𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱ summer has always been the time of love, whether sparks fly at work, during a night out, or on a vacation—summer has it all!
💌 leave a message in the comments if you'd like to be tagged when the stories come out!
room 001 — the wedding play by @izzyy-stuff
・❥・You wouldn’t say lying comes easy to you. Especially not when you’re surrounded by people you care so deeply about. But when you’re forced into a corner, there is nothing left for you to do but to lie your way out, dragging an innocent server down with you. Luckily for you, Soobin, the ever so helpful server, is more than willing to make your time here enjoyable. So what if he has to attend a wedding for people he’s never met before? As lon as he’s by your side, he doesn’t mind anything you throw his way.
pairing → server!Soobin x fem!reader
genre → romcom, fake dating, strangers to friends to lovers
teaser | full fic
room 002 — Mr. incompetent by @nanilis
・❥・The chairman’s son. Corporate’s golden boy. Future executive. Your newest shadow. You’d call Choi Yeonjun many things.
Unfortunately…
“Completely useless” turns out not to be one of them.
pairing → hotel owner’s son!yeonjun x events manager!f reader
genre → workplace romance, enemies (kind of) to lovers, slow burn
teaser | full fic
room 003 — obessica by @gyuzies
・❥・beomgyu who happens to be your best friend and the bartender at the hotel you work at together, and the guy who rearranges your gut when nobody is looking. I mean its just sex — you're looking out for him, so when his 'situationship' comes into the bar and you 'accidentally' spill a drink on her, beomgyu has absolutely no choice but to deal with you the only way he knows how — fuck the attitude out of ya!
pairing → bartender!beomgyu x server!reader
genre → fwb to lovers, jealousy, coworkers to lovers
teaser | full fic
room 004 — driftwood by @filmsbyun
・❥・"I'm giving you all of me so I can hold you better." His lips brushed over yours as the barest touch. "Please don't hurt me."
You had always been good at hiding. Good enough that people eventually stopped asking where you had gone. When your friend convinced you to trade your penthouse and your solitude for a fortnight at his family's resort, you reluctantly agreed with little expectation beyond filling empty days. That was before you met Kang Taehyun, who was not looking for love any more than you were.
Two people with no intention of being found placed inside the same snow globe. That, as it turns out, is not the same as not being found.
pairing → lounge singer!Kang Taehyun x afab!reader
genre → slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers
teaser | full fic
room 005 — a mater of taste by @orbitondgtl
・❥・As a chef in a resort and the reigns completely in your hands, you were exactly where you needed to be. Food was the central point of your life. It was your way of expressing yourself, but like a language that people never truly got. That was until a receptionist and his lunch request unlocked undiscovered feelings. And they were like nothing you'd ever tasted before.
pairing → receptionist!kai x chef!fem!reader
genre → coworkers to lovers, feel-good, culinary romance
teaser | full fic
we are so so so happy to finally bring this collab to you all!! Huge shout out to everyone involved!! If you'd like to be tagged in all of these fics, you can just leave a comment bellow. Otherwise, feel free to look out for individual teasers and/or full fics!
a/n; oh to have all my plans ruined by needy anton..💔
cw: fwb situation, cursing, he’s horny as hell, baby what plot.., smut — dry humping, eating puh, p in v, no condom ( be smart ), male moaning !!!, talking a luh nasty👀
summary: leaving anton’s apartment after everything blew over with your roommate wasn’t as easy as you thought it was gonna be. the apartment was just so nice and.. has so many usable surfaces and like. yeah.
<- previous
this is how it usually started. you were hanging out in anton’s room, both of you laid in his bed and being super social by sending each other tiktoks depspite being right in front of each other. it was the perfect, most innocent, friend activity. until it wasn’t. anton’s head landed heavily on your flat shoulder,
“i wanna fuck you so badly…”
“yo, chill.”
after the incident about a week ago; after letting yourself freak out about it first, you became pretty content with the fact that you smashed your best friend. despite your perfectly rational fear that things would become awkward after, your friendship remained relatively normal. emphasis on relatively. however, the fact that things didn’t become awkward between you two meant there was absolutely no deterrent against doing it again…. and again, and again.
your roommate wondered why the hell you had overstayed at anton’s by like a lot of days... your friends wondered why you were either late or absent to all the recent gatherings. it was because anton was insatiable. like he couldn’t get up off you.
nestled between your open legs in his bed, anton moved his hips over yours, “i can’t help it. when you touch me, i’m instantly hard. it’s like muscle memory.”
“ou, don’t do that.” you sighed out, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs, “i-i need to get— i have to meet my friends.”
he whined in response grinding down into you, “i know, i know. i won’t keep you long…”
“toni…” you knew and he that he was full of shit. but the featherlight feel of his lips brushing your neck pushed all the rational thoughts out of your head. “okay, okay, fine.”
with your permission, anton’s mouth was immediately on yours, kissing you all sloppy and holding your neck to keep you in place. slowly, he continued humping into you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing them at the ankles.
“fuck, you’re so— you feel warm. i could cum like this.” anton whimpered.
you held onto his shoulder, “wait, i want you inside me…”
didn’t you have somewhere to be..?
already sitting up to strip his clothes, anton laughed, “don’t you have somewhere to be, though?”
you rolled your eyes as you started pulling down your leggings. “just— let’s just not ask questions right now.”
through hooded eyes, you watched as anton pushed his boxer briefs down, letting his dick spring up against his lower ab. you were expecting him to start teasing you. anything but the way he immediately leant down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy.
“i could never get tired of doing this…”
you slid your fingers into his soft hair, tugging gently and sighing heavily. “anton, please.”
“hm? give me a second.” the sound of anton humming vibrated through his lips around your clit, making your eyes roll back. “i’m tryna get you wet for me.”
“i already am—” you whined desperately but anton continued with no remorse.
he flattened his tongue against your pussy, licking a long stripe upwards and your hips bucked into his mouth. “this pretty pussy tastes so good…” moaning against you, he pushed his tongue inside of you and with each twitch of your hips, your clit bumped against his nose. you were so overwhelmed with pleasure that you felt tears start to well up in your eyes. it took everything in him to pull away, but he was feeling like if he didn’t fuck you soon? he could die.
anton tapped his dick against your now puffy pussy lips a couple times before sliding in with comfortable ease. you immediately had to dig your nails into him. he should not have gotten you that close.
anton pressed a kiss just below your earlobe, “i’m gonna put it in, okay, baby?”
you nodded at him and he rubbed his tip against you sensitive clit before finally bottoming out inside of you with a quiet moan, immediately starting to roll his hips into yours with rhythmic ease.
“fuck, you’re wet… does it feel good?”
wrapping your legs around his waist, you nodded.
“yeah? it feels good? let me rub that clit, baby.” he sat upright on his knees, still fucking into you and started rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves, making you cry out.
“anton—” you cut yourself off with a low moan.
“you feel so fucking good around me.” anton whined above you, “so good to me… hah.”
the sound of his hips smacking into the backs of your thighs grew louder as his thrusts be came more shallow and irregular. he was making it very clear that he was getting close.
“are you gonna cum for me, toni?” you stroked his hair and his face contorted in pure pleasure. he couldn’t answer you.
“please?” you pecked his lips and he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling back. the tip of his dick pushing against that spongy spot inside you with each thrust had him weak. you wanted nothing more in this moment than for him to cum inside you, because you knew the noises he would make could finish you off.
anton was resilient; determined to keep going for you. he leant forwards again, shifting his weight onto his hands and expertly grinding his hips into yours. this however gave you the perfect angle to start kissing at his shoulders, the crook of his neck, his jaw, his face. he knew it was coming. or was hoping at least. anton opened his mouth slightly and again, your lips met his in a fervent kiss.
he attempted to muffle his moans against your lips but it was no use for him. he was already there. anton pulled his lips away from yours to release a string of high pitched moans and curses as his hips stuttered against you. the friction of his pelvis against your clit triggering your own orgasm.
“anton—”
“mmph.. f-fuck, i’m cumming. i’m cumming for you.” anton’s brows were furrowed in pure pleasure as he fucked his warm load into you. “fuck, baby, take my cum… just like that.”
anton’s body fell limp on top of yours. you gently dragged your nails up and down his back, laughing at the way he twitched as a result.
“toni… you sound so pretty.”
anton breathed out a shy laugh. “stop. i’m embarrassed.” he was breathless.
you let out a content sigh, allowing your eyes to dart around to the clock on your wall. yeah, no way you were making it to whatever plans you had. you were gonna have to start making up some excuse real fast because you knew this wasn’t going to be the last time this happened. nor did you want it to be.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 boyfriend’s best friend sohee x fem reader, infidelity, morally grey characters, slow burn, college au, smut,
synopsis: a psychological slow-burn about ego, bodily obsession, moral collapse, and the humiliating realization that attraction can exist alongside genuine disgust. a story about two people who begin by despising each other and end by discovering that desire, repeated often enough, can rot through every principle they once used to define themselves. the story explores college-age hedonism not as freedom, but as corrosion. sex becomes language. degradation becomes intimacy. shame stops functioning as a deterrent and instead becomes part of the thrill. by the end, neither of you are recognizable as the people you thought you were at the start.
WARNINGS: infidelity ( i swear i don’t endorse this in real life), slight misogynistic undertones, sohee being a dick at first (but it’s low-key justified), reader has a huge lack of morals and integrity, huge heavy dick sohee supremacy (canon at this point), brief mention of sex
a/n: another unintentionally long hiatus from tumblr while i was working on this. interestingly enough i had wrapped up this part by the end of may but editing has been a pain in the ass.
i originally intended for this to be one complete story, but somehow the wordcount reached 21k and i realised i was nowhere near finished with these characters or where i want this story to go. rather than rushing through the rest of the narrative or cutting down scenes that i felt needed space to breathe, i decided it would work much better if i broke it into parts instead. and made it a series i’ve already started outlining and writing part two, so hopefully the wait between updates won’t be too long ;)
this was genuinely one of the most fun things i’ve written in a while, and seeing everyone’s excitement over this idea has definitely been giving me more motivation <3
no filthy smut in this part which is a bummer but i promise it will be worth your while!!
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
the bass was loud enough that you felt it before the door even opened, low violent vibrations bleeding through the warped wood beneath your knuckles while somewhere inside the apartment somebody shouted over the music loud enough to earn a burst of drunken laughter immediately afterward. the hallway outside smelled faintly damp from earlier rainfall still clinging to people’s skin, though most of it disappeared the second sungchan finally pulled the door open and the heat from inside spilled outward into the corridor.
it hit your skin instantly.
thick overheated air dense with vodka fumes and sweat and whatever aggressively masculine cologne one of his friends had clearly drowned himself in, all of it tangled together beneath the stale lived-in smell the apartment permanently carried now from boys sharing one space for too long.
instant noodles, protein powder, and cheap alcohol.
sungchan filled the doorway almost completely when he opened it, one hand still loose around the handle while the other pushed absently back through his dishevelled hair, dark strands sticking faintly against his forehead beneath the hallway light. the sleeves of his top sat shoved messily up his forearms and there was already a faint flush spread across his cheeks that suggested he’d been drinking long before you got there, though the second his eyes landed properly on you something in his expression shifted immediately anyway.
softened. brightened. like seeing you standing there had pulled his attention fully back into focus after hours spent drifting lazily through noise and alcohol.
“you made it,” he said, and even over the music there was something stupidly genuine about the relief sitting beneath the words.
his gaze moved quickly over you after that, not subtle enough to miss. the short skirt, your bare legs disappearing into boots still damp from outside, the tiny black top clinging tightly enough to your body that the silver glint of your belly piercing caught briefly beneath the flickering hallway light. you watched his throat move once before his attention snapped upward again almost immediately, the corner of his mouth pulling higher like he’d just remembered he was supposed to pretend not to stare.
“what?” you asked lightly, though your mouth had already started curving before he could answer.
“nothing,” he said too quickly, smiling wider now. “you just look—”
“you look good,” he says, voice low and scraped raw, like the words had to fight their way out.
he swallows thickly, the pause stretching long and dangerous between you, his eyes flickering dark with thoughts that are anything but pg. the air between you already feels heavier, charged, like one move could make it spark.
“good enough to rip my clothes off?”
the words came easily, shamelessly, and the effect was immediate. sungchan’s expression faltered for half a second before a breathy laugh escaped him, his eyes dropping briefly toward the floor like he needed the second to pull himself back together.
“maybe,” he muttered eventually, though the answer sat too low and too honest beneath the music to sound convincing as a joke.
another burst of shouting erupted somewhere deeper inside the apartment immediately afterward, followed by loud drunken laughter from the kitchen, but sungchan barely seemed to register any of it anymore. his attention stayed fixed on you instead while his hand settled automatically against your waist to pull you inside, palm broad and hot, fingers spreading wide over the strip of bare skin above your skirt. the touch is deliberate, thumb brushing once, twice, slow and firm enough that heat blooms low in your belly and spreads outward in a rush.
even after the door clicks shut behind you, he doesn’t let go. his fingers stay pressed there, warm and slightly calloused, the faint tremor in them telling you exactly how hard he’s working to stay in control. you feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, the clean scent of his cologne mixed with whiskey and something darker, something that makes your mouth water.
inside, the light slides over you again and his eyes follow it greedily, slower this time, drinking you in like he’s starving. his fingers flex once against your waist, pressing harder, almost a warning, then he leans down. the kiss he aims for your cheek lands dangerously close to the corner of your mouth instead, warm, the faint burn of whiskey on his lips and the scrape of stubble against your skin sending a sharp shiver racing down your spine.
when he pulls back he doesn’t go far. his face hovers inches from yours, breath hot and ragged against your lips, eyes half-lidded and dark with want. you can feel the tension vibrating off him, every tight muscle coiled like a spring, the way his chest rises and falls too fast, the faint dampness of his palm where it grips you tighter.
his name cracks through the haze, loud and sharp, yelled from one of his friends in the kitchen. the voice cuts straight through the thick air like a blade, followed immediately by another burst of rowdy, drunken laughter that echoes down the hallway. sungchan’s whole body jolts just slightly, the spell fracturing. he rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, slow and annoyed, the movement pulling the strong line of his throat into sharp relief under the dim light. for a second the frustration is plain on his face, jaw tight, like the interruption physically pains him.
his hand never properly leaves your waist as he guides you further into the apartment, palm resting low against your side while he steers you through the crowded hallway with absent familiarity. the music grows louder the deeper you move inside, bass shaking low through the floor hard enough that you can feel it vibrating faintly up through the heels of your boots, while voices overlap messily from every direction at once until individual conversations become impossible to separate from the noise.
people notice sungchan bringing you in almost immediately.
not in a dramatic way, nothing in the room pauses long enough for that. but heads turn briefly as you pass through the apartment anyway, quick half-drunk acknowledgements thrown in your direction between conversations while bodies shift lazily aside to let both of you through.
“finally,” one of his friends' mutters from the couch, slouched so far back they’re practically horizontal against the cushions already. “he’s been checking his phone every five seconds.”
“shut the fuck up,” sungchan shoots back automatically, though the grin tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth ruins any actual irritation behind it.
the kitchen comes into view a second later, brighter than the rest of the apartment beneath harsh overhead lighting that exposes every smear of spilled alcohol and hands pressed into the countertops. bottles crowd almost every available surface, some half empty already, others tipped sideways beside bowls of crisps and sweets. somebody has abandoned a hoodie over one of the barstools while another person leans heavily against the fridge laughing hard enough that their entire body folds forward with it.
sungchan finally lets go of your waist only long enough to make space for you between the counter and himself, guiding you naturally toward the empty stretch of marble like he’s done it enough times before not to think about it anymore. his hand brushes lightly against your thigh as you hop up onto the counter, skirt dragging higher from the movement while the cold surface presses briefly against the backs of your legs before the apartment heat swallows the sensation almost immediately again.
sungchan moved around in the narrow space between your knees and the counter, half distracted now by the growing list of demands being thrown at him from different corners of the apartment. somebody wanted more ice, somebody else was already complaining the drinks were too weak. another voice cut through the music asking where the vodka disappeared to, followed immediately by a chorus of drunken disagreement from somewhere near the living room.
he laughed under his breath at all of it, one hand braced briefly against the counter beside your thigh while the other reached past you for another bottle, the movement forcing him close enough that the warmth coming off him pressed directly into your skin. every few seconds his attention drifted back toward you automatically anyway, like his focus kept snagging there no matter how many conversations pulled at him from the rest of the room.
the pitcher sitting on the counter beside you filled slowly while he worked, liquor splashing softly against ice beneath the music while he reached for bottles and mixers without really looking anymore, moving with the loose familiarity of somebody who’d hosted enough nights like this before. the kitchen crowded tighter around both of you with every passing minute, shoulders brushing together, people squeezing through narrow gaps behind sungchan while the apartment heat thickened steadily beneath the lights.
at some point his hand disappeared absently into the open bowl sitting beside you, fingers brushing through sweets and chocolate bars before he pulled out a lollipop between two fingers.
“strawberry’s your favourite, right?”
you nodded once.
the wrapper crinkled softly between his fingers while he unwrapped it one-handed, and when he looked back toward you again his gaze dropped automatically to your mouth first before lifting upward. something shifted briefly across his expression at the sight of the gloss still shining there beneath the kitchen light, subtle enough that you almost missed it entirely.
his hand settled beneath your chin a second later, fingers warm against your skin while he tilted your face upward slightly to push the lollipop into your mouth for you. the candy pressed sweet and artificial against your tongue immediately, and sungchan’s eyes stayed there a fraction too long when your lips closed slowly around it.
his thumb lingered briefly beneath your jaw after the lollipop disappeared between your lips, the pad of it dragging once lightly against your skin before he finally pulled his hand away again, though his gaze still hadn’t properly left your mouth yet. the music swallowed most of the room whole around you both but sungchan looked momentarily detached from all of it standing there between your knees, attention narrowing into something quieter and warmer beneath the noise.
you sucked lightly against the candy without breaking eye contact and the reaction was immediate as his throat moved once.
a quiet curse slipped from somebody behind sungchan drags his attention away from your mouth long enough for him to glance sideways again, though the faint flush spread across his cheeks had deepened noticeably beneath the kitchen lights now.
“bro,” another voice cut through the kitchen over the music, lower and rougher around the edges from alcohol, “i think we need more paper cup—”
the words stopped halfway, sohee just pushing his way properly into the kitchen crowd when he noticed you sitting there.
his body stalled for a fraction too long near the counter, eyes lifting automatically toward sungchan first before landing on you between the harsh overhead lights and the cluttered kitchen mess around you both. messy brown hair hung loose across his forehead, slightly damp and curling faintly at the ends from the apartment heat, while the thin silver chains resting against his throat caught briefly beneath the light whenever he moved. his shirt looked wrinkled already, stretched slightly at the collar over the darker long sleeve underneath, sleeves pushed carelessly up his forearms like he’d stopped caring hours ago about fixing them properly.
for a second he said nothing at all.
his gaze moved once over the scene in front of him, sungchan standing between your legs, your skirt riding dangerously high against the counter edge before something shifted subtly across his face, tightening hard enough around the mouth and jaw to sharpen his entire expression almost instantly.
somebody squeezed loudly past him toward the fridge, shoulder knocking against his arm hard enough to jostle him slightly, but sohee barely reacted. his eyes remained fixed on the two of you another second longer while his tongue pressed once against the inside of his cheek like he was forcing something back down.
sungchan looked up first, oblivious to most of it.
“we’re out already?” sungchan asked with a laugh.
sohee’s attention finally dragged away from you then.
“yeah,” he muttered, voice flatter now than it had been when he first walked in, the words clipped short enough that even sungchan glanced at him for half a second afterward.
whatever mood he’d been in before entering the kitchen seemed to have vanished entirely beneath the weight of seeing you there, replaced instead by something visibly restrained sitting tight across his face while he grabbed one of the abandoned cups near the sink and brought it up to his face to demonstrate.
“our friends drink like fucking alcoholics.”
sungchan laughed as he finally moved away from the space between your knees a second later, the sudden absence of him leaving the cold edge of the counter more noticeable against the backs of your thighs, legs dangling loosely over the side now while noise and movement swelled around the kitchen again to fill the gap he’d left behind.
across from you, sohee still hadn’t looked your way again.
his back was half turned while he leaned one shoulder against the counter near the stove, cup hanging loose from one hand while another guy beside him spoke animatedly about something neither of you cared enough to listen to. even from where you sat you could still see the tension sitting visibly through the line of his shoulders though, jaw set hard enough beneath the kitchen lights that the muscle there shifted every few seconds like he was grinding his teeth without realising it.
it irritated you instantly, because the sheer hostility of it had started feeling excessive at this point. every interaction with sohee carried this same unpleasant edge now, this constant sense that merely existing in the same room as you immediately worsened his mood, his responses flattening into clipped little remarks before he inevitably found some excuse to occupy himself elsewhere. the longer it dragged on the more it started getting beneath your skin too.
sungchan returned a few minutes later balancing a stack of paper cups against his chest alongside a tray of brownies somebody had apparently shoved into his hands halfway back to the counter. he dropped the cups beside the bottles before setting the tray down near you, the smell of burnt chocolate drifting upward almost immediately beneath the heat hanging thick through the kitchen.
“hungry?” sungchan asked distractedly. “we have brownies.”
your eyes drifted lazily toward the tray. one side had escaped mostly intact, but the other had darkened several shades too far, the edges bordering on charcoal while the centre remained suspiciously uneven.
“those burnt looking things are brownies?”
sungchan glanced down at the tray before laughing quietly beneath his breath.
“hey, those are the ones sohee made,” he said, already sounding halfway defensive before you’d even answered. “they’re actually good.”
you pressed your tongue slowly against the candy in your mouth before looking back toward the brownies again, unconvinced.
“i'm not putting that in my mouth.”
“you're being dramatic.”
“i'm being sensible. attempting to swallow one of those things feels like a disaster waiting to happen.”
sungchan let out a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a laugh before he managed to stop it, his mouth twitching once as though he had suddenly remembered whose brownies were being discussed.
unfortunately, sohee had heard it too.
you could tell from the way his attention shifted briefly in your direction before settling elsewhere again, the reaction small enough that most people probably wouldn't have noticed it. he didn't say anything immediately. instead he reached for the vodka bottle sitting beside the sink, unscrewing the cap with slightly more force than seemed strictly necessary before pouring himself a drink. the glass knocked softly against the countertop when he set the bottle down again, his focus remaining fixed stubbornly on the task in front of him despite the fact the conversation had very clearly stopped being about brownies several seconds ago.
“crazy,” he said eventually, voice low enough that it almost disappeared beneath the bass rattling through the apartment.
his eyes lifted toward you then for the first time since entering the kitchen properly, the look in them flat and steady enough that irritation prickled immediately beneath your skin before he even finished speaking.
“i didn't realise you'd become so selective about what you chose to swallow now.”
the comment settled neatly into the space between all three of you, ugly in the way it took a moment to register properly, slipping into the conversation with the same ease as everything else that had been said that evening despite the fact it landed infinitely harder. you sungchan freezing almost immediately, small enough that nobody else would, but close enough that you felt it anyway. the way his body stalled halfway through reaching for one of the cups, the easy looseness that had been sitting across his face all night disappearing so quickly it almost felt wiped clean. even his smile dropped slightly at the corners before he looked down toward the counter instead, exhaling slowly through his nose while his fingers tightened once around the stack of cups hard enough to bend the top one inward.
“sohee,” he muttered quietly, exhaustion settling heavily beneath the warning now like this was an argument he already knew too well.
irritation flared almost immediately after the words left his mouth, sharp enough that you found yourself pulling the lollipop slowly from between your lips before you even realised you'd stopped sucking on it. the entire kitchen seemed to shift around the feeling, overcrowded, every passing shoulder an inconvenience, every burst of laughter unnecessarily loud. even the music vibrating through the apartment walls had started to feel less like background noise and more like something pressing insistently against your skull. across from you, sohee still looked infuriatingly composed despite the tension sitting visibly through every line of his body.
except he wasn’t composed at all.
you could see it now the longer you looked at him. there was a strange inconsistency to him, tiny fractures appearing beneath the surface the harder he tried to maintain it. subtle enough that nobody else in the room would have noticed but impossible to miss once your attention settled properly on him. the composure was still there, at least outwardly, but it no longer felt effortless. there was a faint rigidity to him now, an unusual awareness in the way he held himself, as though every instinct urging him to look away was being actively overruled by something stronger.
the cool indifference he wore so comfortably around everyone else had begun slipping in place, yet he kept looking at you.
being looked at by sohee always carried this unpleasant feeling you couldn’t fully explain because there was never anything impulsive or openly emotional about it. nothing softened in his face when his eyes moved over you. no awkwardness, no embarrassment, no recklessness that could be dismissed as drunkenness. if anything, the restraint made it worse because every glance felt too deliberate, dragged slowly over you with the same visible displeasure.
your fingers curled tighter into your palm before you finally snapped.
“grow the fuck up, sohee.”
sohee lifted a cup toward his mouth instead, taking a slow swallow while his gaze stayed fixed steadily on you.
“i think,” he said eventually, voice flat enough to disappear almost completely beneath the bass, “you’ll find the one who needs some growing to do is you.”
beside you, sungchan sighed quietly through his nose, the sound almost disappearing beneath the noise filling the apartment, though you still caught it. when you glanced toward him briefly his hand was rubbing slowly at the back of his neck now, shoulders noticeably tighter than before while his gaze stayed fixed somewhere near the counter instead of either of you.
you laughed softly under your breath, the sound mean enough around the edges that sungchan’s shoulders visibly tightened beside you, clearly not a joyful sound.
“god,” you muttered, shaking your head once. “you’re such a fucking asshole.”
sohee’s mouth twitched faintly at that, though it looked closer to contempt than amusement.
“am i wrong though?”
he sounded calm saying it, certain which somehow irritated you more than if he’d shouted.
“sohee. please,” sungchan cut in quickly this time, voice lower now as his eyes flicked briefly between both of you.
“can we not do this tonight?”
sohee said nothing else, standing there across from you with his eyes fixed steadily on your face, expression pulled tight enough now that it looked almost painful. you could practically see the argument still sitting there behind his teeth, something harsher clearly threatening to surface every time his jaw shifted faintly beneath the tension holding it shut. even the silence coming from him felt hostile somehow and every second he stood there saying nothing seemed only to make whatever was lodged beneath your ribs spread further, sinking its hooks deeper instead of loosening them.
then eventually his eyes rolled once before he took a slow breath through his nose, the kind people took when they were forcing themselves not to say something they’d regret afterward.
“whatever.”
the word came flat and clipped beneath the music before he stepped away from the counter entirely, disappearing back toward the living room crowd without another glance in your direction.
you watched him walk away, expecting some of the unpleasant energy between you to disappear with him, only to find it clinging stubbornly behind. it sat low and heavy inside your chest now, impossible to ignore, colouring everything around it. by the time he disappeared fully into the crowd you were still looking in the direction he'd gone, annoyed by him, by yourself for still thinking about him, and most of all by the fact he'd somehow managed to get the last word without saying another thing.
“he’s actually insufferable,” you muttered under your breath.
it was only then that sungchan seemed to relax beside you, something easing in him almost immediately after sohee disappeared into the crowd. the slight distraction that had lingered beneath his expression throughout the exchange finally disappeared, his focus settling properly again now that he no longer seemed caught between two opposing directions. a quiet breath left him before he stepped back into the space between your knees, one hand finding your thigh automatically while the other reached for the abandoned drink sitting beside you.
“why do you guys have to argue every two seconds?” he asked eventually, though the question sounded tired enough that it was obvious he already knew the answer somewhere beneath it and simply didn’t want to touch it directly.
you let your arms slide loosely around his shoulders, drawing him closer without really thinking about it, his familiar warmth replacing some of the agitation still buzzing unpleasantly beneath your skin. for a moment you only looked at him, taking in the faint crease still lingering between his brows, the way he seemed to be waiting for an answer he already suspected he wasn't going to get.
“i don’t know,” you mumbled lazily. “ask your guard dog.”
sungchan snorted softly beneath his breath at that, though it lacked some of the easy warmth from earlier. instead his forehead dropped briefly against your shoulder, eyes falling shut briefly as though he was allowing himself a second to decompress now. his hand remained resting against your thigh, thumb moving once in a slow absent sweep before going still again.
he stayed quiet after that, his grip resting loose against your thigh while the kitchen carried on around both of you in blurred fragments of movement and colour, conversation and music blurring together into little more than background noise. he seemed content to remain exactly where he was, leaning comfortably into the space between your knees while your fingers drifted idly through the hair at the back of his neck. after a while the exchange stopped feeling like something actively unfolding and became just another passing moment absorbed into the noise of the evening, buried beneath laughter, half-finished conversations and the restless movement of people weaving through the apartment.
and yet some unpleasant remnant of the exchange still lingered stubbornly beneath your skin, refusing to settle no matter how thoroughly you tried to ignore it.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
sunlight filtered weakly through the gap in sungchan’s blinds in thin pale strips, cutting across the room in uneven bands that exposed the aftermath of last night piece by piece. clothes abandoned carelessly across the floor, one of your boots tipped onto its side near the desk, half-empty bottles crowding the nightstand beside tangled charging cables and somebody’s forgotten wallet. the air still carried the stale heaviness of alcohol soaked too deeply into fabric to disappear overnight, tangled together with the lingering warmth of sweat, detergent, and the faint musky trace of sex that clung stubbornly to the sheets beneath you.
you felt sungchan before your eyes fully opened, the weight of his body pressed heavily against your back, one arm locked tight around your waist even in sleep while one of his thighs remained hooked between yours. your body protested immediately the second consciousness returned fully, soreness blooming slow and deep in your muscles, not sharp enough to hurt but lingering everywhere in that heavy satisfying way that only came after being fucked properly.
your eyes narrowed against the stripe of sunlight falling directly across your face while somewhere beyond the bedroom walls the apartment hummed faintly with morning noise, pipes groaning softly and the low distant buzz of a refrigerator motor struggling through the silence. sungchan stirred slightly behind you when you shifted again, his grip tightening automatically on instinct before his face buried deeper into the back of your shoulder, still half asleep.
your own skin felt warm beneath the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him sometime during the night, fabric hanging loose over the bruises blooming darker now along your collarbone and thighs. even swallowing felt dry from the alcohol still lingering in your system, tongue heavy against the roof of your mouth while you stared blearily toward the ceiling another moment, letting the ache between your legs settle deeper before finally trying to pull yourself free from sungchan’s grip.
he made a low sound immediately, somewhere between a groan and complaint, eyebrows tightening without fully waking while his hand slid slowly across your waist like he was trying to keep you there even unconscious.
“where are you going,” he mumbled thickly, voice roughened by sleep, barely understandable against your shoulder.
“kitchen,” you muttered back automatically, already prying his arm loose despite the way he resisted weakly.
sungchan only sighed softly through his nose before finally letting go enough for you to slip out from beneath him, though even then his fingertips dragged lazily across your waist at the last second like his body disliked the distance instinctively. behind you the mattress dipped again when he rolled onto his back, one arm falling across his face while the sheets slipped low enough to expose the fresh red scratches streaking across his chest and shoulder from the night before.
you barely spared the sight more than a passing glance before padding toward the bedroom door barefoot, the cold wood floor biting against the lingering warmth still trapped inside your skin.
the apartment looked worse in daylight.
last night the darkness and coloured lights had hidden most of it beneath shadow and movement, but now everything sat exposed beneath the weak morning sun. sticky rings staining the coffee table where drinks had been abandoned hours ago, empty bottles lined crookedly along the kitchen counters and the general debris left behind by too many people staying up far later than they should have.
the kitchen tiles felt even colder beneath your feet when you stepped inside, the chill climbing briefly up your legs while the refrigerator hummed even louder in the silence. the fridge light spilled pale and artificial across your face the second you pulled the door open, cold air brushing across your skin while you stared blankly inside for a moment trying to decide what you actually wanted. there wasn’t much besides energy drinks, leftover takeaway containers, beer, and half-finished cartons shoved carelessly onto shelves between sauces and protein shakes.
eventually you reached for the carton of orange juice sitting near the front anyway before taking a slow drink straight from it without bothering to grab a glass first, the cold sweetness hitting your tongue sharply enough to make your face tighten slightly.
you hummed absently under your breath without really realising it while setting the juice down against the counter, fingers drifting lazily toward the fruit bowl sitting near the stove before grabbing a strawberry from where it had been abandoned among packets of crisps.
the familiarity of the apartment settled strangely easily around you.
you knew where everything was without thinking. which cabinets stuck when you pulled them too hard. where sungchan kept clean glasses because his friends never put them back properly. which side of the sink leaked if the tap twisted too far left. your body moved through the kitchen automatically, like it had done it enough times before to stop feeling unfamiliar entirely, and there was something almost invasive about how naturally you occupied the space this early in the morning while the apartment still looked half-undressed from the night before.
still chewing slowly on the strawberry, you stretched up onto your tiptoes to reach one of the higher cabinets, fingers brushing uselessly against the edge before finally nudging it open with a soft curse beneath your breath. one hand braced lazily against the counter to steady yourself as you searched blindly for the nutella jar shoved somewhere near the back shelf.
behind you came the slow shuffle of footsteps dragging across the floorboard which you barely thought about at first, presuming it was sungchan. your head turned eventually anyway, expecting to see him stumbling sleepily into the kitchen after you, still half buried in exhaustion from the night before, but the motion stalled halfway through when your eyes landed on sohee standing near the entrance instead.
his hair hung messily across his forehead in uneven dark strands, flattened strangely on one side from sleep while the rest stuck out in different directions like he hadn’t bothered trying to fix it yet. one eye remained barely open while he rubbed tiredly at it with the side of his index finger, shoulders rising and falling slowly beneath the lingering heaviness of sleep and alcohol both. he was shirtless too, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips while the thin silver chain resting against his chest shifted faintly when he exhaled through his nose.
his gaze stayed lowered at first while he moved further into the kitchen still rubbing distractedly at his eye, clearly making his way toward the cabinets beside the sink without really thinking, but the second he finally looked up the movement stalled halfway through. his hand dropped slowly from his face while something in his expression hardened almost on instinct, shoulders pulling tighter beneath the lingering heaviness of sleep as his eyes moved over you once in silence, dragging briefly across the oversized shirt hanging loose against your body, the bruises exposed beneath the hem where your legs were still bare, the darker marks scattered visibly along your neck now that daylight exposed everything last night had blurred softer at the edges.
you watched his jaw tighten hard enough for the muscle there to flick once beneath his skin before his gaze shifted away again toward the counter instead, though whatever exhaustion had still been softening his face moments earlier seemed to disappear almost immediately afterward, replaced by that same familiar tension that always surfaced around you now, restrained but impossible to miss once you knew what to look for.
the silence stretched long enough afterward to become noticeable. you watched him open the cabinet beside the sink harder than necessary, the wood cracking sharply against the frame before settling again, and the sound seemed to linger awkwardly afterward in the already overheated kitchen.
he crossed toward the sink with that same rigid restraint threaded through every movement, like walking into the kitchen and finding you there first thing in the morning had immediately forced something sour beneath his skin that he was trying very hard not to let spill over. the tap screeched faintly when he twisted it on too hard, water crashing sharply into the glass while you stayed where you were beside the counter spreading nutella across bread in slow distracted motions, pretending not to notice the way the atmosphere in the room had shifted completely around him. five minutes ago the apartment had felt sluggish and half asleep, heavy with leftover alcohol and silence, but now the kitchen carried that same ugly tension that always seemed to bloom the second the two of you occupied the same space too long.
you could feel him behind you without looking properly. the weight of his silence settled strangely against your spine while the knife dragged another dark stripe of chocolate across the bread in your hands, your movements slowing slightly the longer he stood there refusing to speak. water dripped steadily from the bottom of his glass onto the counter after he finally lifted it to his mouth, the sound irregular and irritatingly loud against the quiet while he swallowed once, twice, lingering there beside the sink long after somebody else would have either said good morning or left the room entirely.
instead, his voice finally cut through the kitchen low and roughened by sleep.
“so is this the new thing now?”
the question landed wrong immediately. not because of the words themselves, but because of everything sitting underneath them, the irritation threaded tightly through his tone, the accusation buried beneath something that sounding dangerously close to disgust. your hand paused briefly against the bread before continuing again anyway, slower now, deliberate, not giving him an answer.
“you two are back together?” he pushed on after a while, clear that you weren't so enthusiastic to reply.
you glanced over your shoulder at him then.
he was leaning back against the sink now with one hand braced against the marble beside him. there was something rougher about him this morning than there had been the night before, the careful composure he usually carried around seeming slightly out of place against sleep-flushed skin and the faint shadow darkening beneath his eyes. under different circumstances it might even have made him look younger.
instead, it only made the look he gave you feel more honest.
“like it’s any of your business,” you answered flatly.
for a second neither of you moved. then sohee laughed quietly under his breath. the sound wasn’t amusement, it was sharper than that, bitter around the edges in a way that instantly made your shoulders tense.
“right,” he muttered, pushing himself upright again before reaching for the glass again.
“because you hanging around my kitchen every other morning wearing his clothes and helping yourself to my food apparently has nothing to do with me.”
your grip tightened around the knife automatically at the use of his words. irritation climbed hot through your chest at the sight of him standing there acting like your mere existence inside the apartment was something contaminating, like you touching the counters or opening the fridge somehow personally offended him.
you turned fully toward him then, bread still in one hand while the knife rested carelessly against your fingers.
“whatever,” you said sharply. “do you have a problem with it or something?”
sohee’s eyes settled on you properly for the first time since entering the kitchen, the question lingering between you for a moment.
you had expected the answer immediately. a sarcastic remark, an insult or some variation of the same dismissive attitude he’d been throwing at you all morning.
instead, he stayed silent.
it wasn’t a long silence, barely a couple of seconds at most, but it felt strangely significant coming from somebody who normally seemed to have an opinion ready the second your name entered a conversation. his attention remained fixed on you while the pause stretched just enough to make the absence of an answer feel like one in itself.
which, unfortunately for him, told you everything you needed to know.
“we both know i do.”
the words settled into the kitchen heavily enough that the silence afterward felt almost suffocating.
you became suddenly aware of everything at once, the sticky counter pressing faintly beneath your fingertips, the hum of the refrigerator vibrating softly through the room, water still dripping from the tap beside sohee in slow uneven intervals that sounded unnaturally loud now.
sohee stayed standing there with the empty glass hanging loose in his hand and there was something uniquely unpleasant about the composure of it all. the comment had been cruel enough on its own, but what lingered afterward felt worse somehow, because nothing about him suggested he'd spoken impulsively or regretted it the second it left his mouth. he looked exactly the same as he had before, standing there with that same unwavering certainty settled across his face, as though his dislike of you was not something he wrestled with but simply a conclusion he'd reached a long time ago and no longer felt any need to hide.
you opened your mouth to answer him, the words already sitting there ready to leave, but somewhere down the hallway came the heavy sound of footsteps dragging unevenly across the floorboards followed by the low rough scrape of a yawn, and a second later sungchan appeared in the kitchen doorway still half asleep.
he looked completely wrecked by sleep in the most predictable way possible, hair flattened messily against one side of his head, eyes narrowed against the brightness while he rubbed distractedly at his face with the heel of his palm before letting his arm fall again. he hadn’t bothered pulling a shirt on either before following you out of the bedroom, only a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and the second he stepped properly into the kitchen the marks left behind from the night before became impossible to miss. red scratches dragged unevenly across the broad slope of his chest and shoulder, darker bruises scattered beneath his collarbone and throat where your mouth had lingered too long hours earlier, all of it exposed carelessly beneath the harsh honesty of daylight.
his gaze found you immediately.
whatever lingering tension had settled through the kitchen seconds earlier seemed completely lost on him still, buried beneath sleep and whatever soft haze remained from waking up warm beside somebody. he crossed toward you without hesitation, movements slow and heavy with exhaustion while another yawn caught him halfway across the room.
“why’d you leave,” he mumbled, voice roughened by sleep.
before you could answer properly his arms slid automatically around your waist from behind, chest pressing warm against your back while he folded himself into your space like it was instinctive by now. the weight of him settled heavily against your shoulders while his face disappeared into the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin before he pressed two absentminded kisses there, lazy enough to feel unconscious.
you barely reacted beyond shifting slightly against him to keep spreading chocolate across the toast balanced in your hand. the knife scraped softly over bread while sungchan stayed draped over your back, eyes probably half closed again by now judging from the way his body seemed to melt heavier against yours with every passing second. your fingers lifted automatically anyway, brushing once through the messy hair at the nape of his neck out of habit while you took a bite from the corner of the toast.
“couldn’t sleep with you crushing my organs,” you muttered around the mouthful.
sungchan laughed quietly against your neck, the sound low and tired while his mouth brushed carelessly over one of the darker marks there again.
“you're so dramatic.”
across the kitchen sohee hadn’t moved from the counter.
his eyes stayed fixed somewhere near the sink rather than directly at either of you, lingering there with an intensity that suggested the opposite wall had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the apartment.
sungchan stood there with sleep still clinging warmly to his body, face buried against your neck while your scent lingered all over his skin and the marks from last night sat openly across his chest in front of the one person in the apartment who looked least interested in seeing them. sungchan stayed folded around you comfortably enough that the intimacy of it started feeling almost invasive beneath the silence pressing in from the other side of the room.
“jesus christ,” he muttered, voice rough with exhaustion and something meaner sitting underneath it. “you guys are disgusting.”
the words landed flatly into the kitchen air, not loud enough to qualify as a real complaint and somehow worse because of it, the kind of under-the-breath remark that sounded like it had slipped out before he could stop himself.
sungchan finally lifted his head slightly at that, sleep still lingering visibly across his face, softening the sheepish grin pulling briefly at the corner of his mouth while one arm remained looped lazily around your waist.
“sorry bro,” he mumbled, though the apology came out distracted, almost fond in the absentminded way people apologised for things they had no real intention of stopping.
a small ugly thought slipped quietly into place the second you looked at sohee properly again and saw the way his jaw locked tighter beneath the apology, the way his shoulders had gone rigid enough to sharpen the entire line of his posture while he stared fixedly at the counter instead of either of you. something about it scratched at you immediately, something deeply satisfying in watching composure crack visibly across somebody who spent so much time acting above you, disgusted by you, permanently one second away from looking at you like he regretted sharing oxygen in the same room.
suddenly you wanted to see how far it could go.
sungchan had already started pulling away again by then, attention drifting back toward the kitchen half asleep now that he’d acknowledged the comment, but before he could properly step back you caught the silver chain resting against his chest between your fingers and tugged him downward again.
the metal pressed cold briefly against your fingers while his body stumbled back toward yours on instinct, surprise flickering faintly across his face before your mouth crashed against his, hard enough to stop thought completely.
the kiss turned messy almost immediately, not slow or affectionate but excessive in a way that bordered on ugly, all wet mouths and clashing teeth and the sharp pull of the chain still wrapped around your hand while sungchan made a startled sound low in his throat before kissing you back just as hard. your toast stayed abandoned forgotten against the counter while his hands tightened instinctively around your waist again, one sliding upward against your ribs beneath the oversized shirt as the kiss deepened into something far too heavy for the middle of a quiet kitchen at nine in the morning.
when you finally pulled apart for air a second later, it happened slowly enough to feel almost deliberate. a thin string of saliva stretched briefly between your mouths before snapping apart, sungchan still close enough that his breath stayed warm against your lips while his fingers flexed harder against your waist beneath the fabric. his mouth looked swollen already, slightly parted from the force of the kiss, and for a second neither of you moved away properly, still suspended too close together in the thick stale heat hanging through the kitchen.
then you looked at sohee, really looked at him.
sohee remained where he was beside the counter, and for a second his attention seemed to catch on the sight of you still half tangled around sungchan before he remembered himself. the look lingered only briefly, yet it felt longer somehow, long enough for you to watch something dark pass across his face before he finally dragged his gaze elsewhere. whatever composure had been holding together the edges of the morning no longer looked quite as effortless as it had earlier, the disgust sitting openly across his features now in a way that felt almost impossible to misinterpret.
something about the reaction exhilarated you in a way you hadn’t expected, the sheer intensity of his visible discomfort scratching at something mean beneath your skin while the overheated kitchen seemed to close tighter around the three of you. your mouth curled faintly before you could stop it, teeth catching lightly against your lower lip while sohee’s expression hardened further at the sight, and before the silence had time to settle properly again your fingers tightened around sungchan’s chain once more as you pulled him back down toward you.
this kiss deepened immediately, slower this time, but somehow worse for it.
your mouth opened against his without hesitation while sungchan let out another low sound that disappeared into the kiss itself, hands tightening harder around your waist as your fingers drifted downward beneath the oversized shirt, brushing dangerously close to the waistband of his sweatpants. not enough to actually touch him there, but enough that his breathing faltered faintly against your mouth anyway, his body reacting on instinct while the kiss grew heavier, wetter, excessive enough that the entire thing started feeling deliberately uncomfortable beneath the silence hanging through the kitchen.
across the room, sohee shoved himself away from the counter so abruptly the empty glass beside him tipped sideways with a sharp crack against the marble, the sound slicing cleanly through the thick silence hanging in the kitchen and finally pulling sungchan away from your mouth.
the kiss broke messily, slowly, sungchan staying close enough that his breath still lingered warm against your lips while one of his hands remained spread beneath the oversized shirt at your waist. confusion flickered briefly across his face first before the sluggish embarrassment followed behind it, his eyes shifting toward the counter where sohee had already moved away from the sink.
“bro, i—”
the apology barely made it halfway out before sohee cut straight through it by moving again.
he crossed the kitchen too quickly, every movement carrying that same tightly restrained sharpness that had been sitting beneath his skin since walking into the room and finding you there. he grabbed the fallen glass from beside the sink without looking toward either of you once, shoving it upright beneath the tap while water rushed noisily into it. sohee stood there with his back half turned, one hand flattening briefly against the front of his sweatpants near the waistband before dropping away again almost immediately.
sungchan shifted slightly behind you now, finally seeming awake enough to recognise properly that the atmosphere in the kitchen had curdled into something deeply uncomfortable while he stood caught awkwardly in the middle of it. you could feel the hesitation settle through him in the way his grip loosened fractionally at your waist, torn somewhere between lingering embarrassment and the instinctive need to smooth things over before they escalated further.
but sohee clearly had no interest in helping him do that.
he drained the glass of water too quickly before shoving it back into the sink with another dull clatter, still refusing to look directly at either of you while he reached for the hoodie hanging over one of the kitchen chairs. he dragged it over his head in one rough motion, messy hair catching briefly beneath the fabric before stepping toward the hallway again, his voice cut low through the kitchen without him bothering to turn around.
“you guys make me sick.”
the words landed heavily enough to seem to settle into the walls themselves, sungchan going still behind you for a second after that, caught halfway between guilt and frustration while sohee disappeared down the hallway without waiting for a response, the sound of his bedroom door shutting a moment later muffled but firm enough to linger afterward in the silence.
the apartment felt strangely hollow once he was gone, not calmer, just empty.
the tap still dripped steadily into the sink beside the abandoned glass and somewhere behind you sungchan exhaled softly through his nose before letting his forehead drop briefly against your shoulder. you could already feel him trying to think through whatever had just happened, trying to rearrange it into something smaller and less uncomfortable than it actually was, but your attention stayed fixed on the hallway instead, on the lingering echo of sohee’s reaction and the sharp ugly thrill that still sat curling low in your chest because of it.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
a week later, exhaustion had settled so deeply into your body that it no longer arrived in waves anymore. it simply existed there constantly, stitched into your muscles and behind your eyes, dragging everything slightly out of focus no matter how much caffeine you poured into yourself to fight it.
by the time you finally submitted the essay for your literature class due that morning, your brain already felt half rotten from lack of sleep, thoughts moving sluggishly beneath the fluorescent glow of the lamp in your room after spending most of the night switching uselessly between half-written paragraphs and sungchan’s mouth whenever he distracted you from working long enough to pull you back into bed.
college had started feeling like that lately. not difficult exactly, just repetitive in a way that slowly hollowed the days into each other until everything blurred together into the same cycle of unfinished assignments, energy drinks, overcrowded lecture halls and sleeping far too little before forcing yourself awake to do it all over again.
by noon your entire body ached with tiredness. two empty energy drink cans sat crushed inside your tote bag alongside crumpled snack wrappers and loose sheets of annotated readings you hadn’t touched properly in days, and every sound around you felt louder than it should have beneath the dull headache pressing steadily behind your temples. conversations overlapped endlessly through the hallways outside the lecture theatres, hundreds of voices bleeding together beneath squeaking trainers against polished floors and the constant buzz of phones vibrating across desks, while groups of students drifted lazily between classes clutching iced coffees.
you barely registered most of it anymore while making your way through campus, shoulders heavy beneath your bag as another cold gust of wind followed students in through the automatic doors, dragging yourself toward the cafeteria.
the place was already packed when you stepped inside, tables crowded with half-open laptops, untouched salads, coffee cups balanced dangerously close to lecture notes. your eyes found your friends near the middle of the cafeteria almost immediately.
mina spotted you first. her entire face twisted the second you approached the table, somewhere between concern and outright disbelief before she burst into laughter loud enough to make chaewon glance up from her phone too.
“oh my god,” chaewon snorted, shoving her tray slightly aside to make room for your bag when you reached them.
“you look actually dead.”
you dropped into the empty chair beside them without even bothering to answer properly, letting your forehead fall heavily against the cool surface of the table with a groan muffled into crossed arms.
“don’t talk to me,” you muttered weakly. “if anybody speaks too loudly near me i might genuinely throw up.”
jiwon laughed from across the table while tearing open another ketchup packet. the sugary iced coffee chaewon pushed toward you smelled almost painfully sweet when it landed beside your elbow.
still, you took it immediately.
your fingers curled around the cold plastic cup while the girls slipped easily back into conversation around you, gossip bleeding between complaints about assignments and lectures in the effortless way it always did whenever the four of you ended up together between classes.
“what time did you even go to bed this time?” jiwon asked eventually, watching you with the same mixture of concern and judgement people usually reserved for raccoons digging through bins at three in the morning.
you didn’t even bother lifting your head properly from the table when you answered.
“that’s presuming i went to bed.”
“maybe,” mina started, carefully setting her coffee cup down, “if you spent less time fucking sungchan and more time actually doing the work assigned to you, you wouldn’t constantly look like you’re on the verge of death.”
jiwon gasped immediately despite the smile pulling at her mouth while chaewon nearly choked on one of her fries, shoulders shaking with laughter as you lifted your middle finger weakly in response.
“it’s for health reasons,” you muttered flatly.
“stress is bad for the body. what am i supposed to do when i need tension relief? obviously i get fucked by sungchan.”
“yeah but every other night?” she shot back. “surely you’re not that stressed.”
“you’d be surprised.”
mina stared at you another second before something visibly clicked behind her eyes, and then suddenly she was folding over the table cackling so hard she could barely get the words out properly.
“wait—” she wheezed, grabbing jiwon’s sleeve for support while laughing harder. “oh my god, sungchan’s literally just your stress ball. no, seriously, think about it. because he has balls and i bet you squeeze those when you’re stressed too—”
chaewon nearly slammed her forehead into the table laughing while jiwon shouted a sharp “mina!”, loud enough to draw annoyed glances from another table nearby, but you only rolled your eyes despite the smile tugging faintly at your mouth now.
“laugh all you want,” you muttered. “you’re just bitter because jaehyun got a girlfriend and now you can’t call him every weekend to dick you down anymore.”
her smile faltered into exaggerated offence while the others burst into louder laughter at her expense this time, and she pointed at you with a deeply wounded expression plastered across her face.
“that’s a touchy subject actually,” she informed the table solemnly. “i’m still in mourning.”
“thoughts and prayers,” you replied dryly before taking another sip of coffee.
“i do wish i had a sungchan though,” she admitted after a second. “like objectively speaking, it must be nice having somebody that obsessed with you. and he's good in bed.”
“it is,” you answered easily, stretching back slightly in your chair now that the caffeine had finally started hitting your bloodstream.
“when he’s not being emotional about everything. i swear every time we fuck he starts talking about how much he misses me or how i’m the love of his life or whatever.”
“this pussy must genuinely be made out of gold,” you finished with a shrug.
“ENOUGH.”
“oh my god, please shut up.”
“nobody asked for this.”
you only laughed this time, slower and more awake now while mina stared across the table looking personally offended.
“oh,” chaewon muttered suddenly, eyebrows lifting faintly. “speak of the devil.”
you frowned before turning slightly in your seat, following her line of sight across the room.
sungchan had just stepped into the cafeteria, one hand hooked loosely around the strap of his bag while the other pushed distractedly through his hair as though he’d only just dragged himself awake properly within the last hour. people greeted him constantly without seeming to think about it and sungchan slowed for everyone without ever seeming irritated by it.
he reached the table a few minutes later, dropping his bag carelessly beside the empty chair nearest to you before leaning down automatically, one hand brushing lightly against the back of your seat as his mouth pressed briefly against your cheek in greeting.
“you look exhausted,” he murmured quietly.
“i am exhausted.”
his laugh stayed low beneath the surrounding cafeteria noise while he straightened again, finally acknowledging the rest of the table with an easy nod.
“hi.”
greetings circled back casually enough between your friends and him, familiar and brief after two years of watching sungchan orbit in and out of your life in one form or another.
the conversation flowed back into itself after that, with the same careless familiarity that always seemed to exist whenever your friends gathered together long enough between lectures. chaewon had already started complaining again about one of her professors assigning another reading packet nobody intended to finish while jiwon scrolled halfheartedly through her calendar trying to figure out when exactly all of her deadlines had become impossible to keep track of. beside you sungchan stole fries from mina’s tray with the kind of absent entitlement that suggested he’d been doing it for years.
absentmindedly, your eyes wandered around the room, stopping on two girls near the vending machines. you recognised one of them properly now that you looked longer, dark hair tucked behind one ear while she leaned lazily against the wall listening to the other girl speak.
yuna.
you’d seen her around enough times through sungchan’s wider social circle to place her immediately, usually lingering around parties with some of sohee’s friends or sitting near them during campus events. not close enough to matter personally, but familiar enough.
and now she was looking directly toward your table in brief glances threaded between conversation, her attention flicking toward sungchan beside you before shifting quickly back toward the girl she was talking to. the other girl noticed it too eventually, following yuna’s gaze until both of them looked toward your table at the exact moment sungchan leaned closer to steal the iced coffee from your hand without asking first.
normally you probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. people knew sungchan and they looked at sungchan all the time. still, something about the exchange sat strangely with you anyway, even after your attention returned to the conversation unfolding around the table.
beside you, sungchan remained completely oblivious to any of it.
mina slapped his hand away for what was probably the fourth time after catching him reaching across the table to steal another fry from her tray, and the sound of his laugh slipped easily into the noise of the cafeteria while he leaned back in his chair.
“you genuinely eat like somebody raised in captivity,” mina informed him flatly while dragging her tray farther out of his reach.
“you’ve eaten more of my food than your own.”
“sharing builds community.”
“i don’t want to build a community with you, dimwit.”
sungchan only grinned at that, slow and unbothered, before his knee knocked lightly against yours again beneath the table. then, from the corner of your eye, movement caught your attention again.
yuna had started walking toward your table. the girl beside her followed half a step behind while yuna adjusted the sleeve of her sweater absently, gaze fixed toward sungchan now with the casual confidence of somebody approaching a conversation she expected to slide into easily.
“hey,” yuna greeted once she reached the table, voice light while the girl beside her hovered quietly near her shoulder.
most of her attention settled on sungchan immediately, though not naturally enough to completely disguise the awareness sitting underneath it. you caught it anyway in the brief flickers of her gaze toward you and back again, the slight hesitation before speaking, like she was trying to navigate around something awkward without fully understanding where the awkwardness had even come from in the first place.
sungchan looked up first, expression easing easily into recognition. “oh, hey yuna. minji.”
“we’re still doing minseok’s party tomorrow,” she said. “you’re coming, right?”
“probably,” sungchan answered. “i completely forgot that was this weekend.”
“you disappeared halfway through the last one,” minji added with a laugh. “you still owe yuna for abandoning her during beer pong.”
sungchan smiled faintly beneath the accusation, rubbing absently at the back of his neck.“i had an early class the next day. i couldn't stay up late like the rest of you guys.”
“sure,” yuna replied, clearly unconvinced.
the smile pulling at her mouth lingered a second longer before she shifted the coffee cup between her hands and looked back at him properly.
“well, you can make it up to me tomorrow.”
“how?”
“show up before everyone else for once.”
the answer came easily enough that it almost sounded rehearsed.
“i'm serious. everybody always turns up late anyway.” her head tilted slightly toward him. “come early with me. we can get drinks before the place gets packed and i'll decide whether i've forgiven you yet.”
there was nothing overtly inappropriate in the suggestion itself. if anything, the confidence behind it was what made it obvious. the assumption that he would say yes, that there was room for the question in the first place.
the shift in sungchan happened almost immediately afterward, the easy openness he'd greeted her with moments earlier tightened faintly around the edges while his eyes flicked instinctively toward you before returning to her again, like he'd noticed that this conversation was no longer socially neutral.
“uh,” he started, laughter slipping awkwardly beneath his breath while one hand settled loosely against the side of your chair near your waist.
“i was actually planning on going with them.”
his gaze drifted briefly toward you.
“and honestly i don't think y/n would be too happy if i disappeared with somebody else before the party.”
his tone stayed gentle throughout it, apologetic almost, the kind of soft rejection only somebody like sungchan could deliver without making the other person feel openly embarrassed. still, the effect landed immediately.
you watched confusion surface visibly across yuna’s face before she could smooth it away. not jealousy, not even annoyance, just genuine confusion.
minji looked between you and sungchan too now, expression faltering slightly as though the picture sitting in front of her no longer matched the version she’d been carrying around beforehand.
“oh,” she said slowly. “i didn’t realise you guys were..”
the silence that followed settled thickly across the table, because at the exact same moment sungchan answered, you did too.
“we’re not—”
“we’re figuring things out.”
the overlap cut awkwardly through the middle of the conversation before collapsing into silence all over again, and beside you sungchan immediately stopped speaking while minji visibly realised she’d stepped into something far messier than she’d originally intended approaching the table.
“sorry,” she corrected quickly. “i just thought—”
she hesitated briefly, eyes flicking toward yuna before continuing automatically.
“but that’s not what sohe—”
yuna reacted instantly.
“we should go,” she interrupted sharply over the end of the sentence, fingers catching lightly around her friend’s wrist before she could finish whatever she’d been about to say. awkwardness had started creeping visibly into both their expressions now, discomfort spreading fast.
they were leaving before anybody else could properly respond, disappearing back into the noise of the cafeteria while the strange heaviness left behind stretched across the table in their absence.
mina was the first one to break the silence.
“i’ll give you five bucks right now,” she muttered flatly, watching the two girls retreat across the cafeteria, “if sohee’s not the one feeding people bullshit about the two of you."
the mention of his name landed unpleasantly in the middle of your chest, like a match against something already overheated.
you felt it almost instantly, that ugly flare of annoyance twisting sharper beneath your ribs now that the pieces had finally started arranging themselves properly together.
lee sohee. of course it was him. it had to be.
across from you, chaewon rolled her eyes faintly before leaning back into her chair with an expression somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion.
“that guy genuinely needs psychiatric help,” she muttered. “like actually.”
“honestly, at this point i'd be more surprised if it wasn't.”
“guys,” sungchan cut in quietly, the discomfort finally visible now in the slight tension pulling between his brows. “why would sohee even be talking about us?”
mina turned toward him so quickly it almost made you laugh.
“sungchan.”
“what?”
“you cannot be serious.”
“i am serious,” he answered, though the confidence behind it already sounded weaker now.
“because he hates her,” chaewon replied flatly, gesturing vaguely toward you. “have we all forgotten that?”
“okay,” sungchan sighed, rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. “he doesn't like her. we all know that. but that's completely different from him going around talking about us to random people.”
“is it?” mina asked.
the question hung there for a second.
“because yuna didn't act like somebody taking a shot in the dark. she acted like somebody who thought she had a genuine chance.”
“we were broken up for a while,” sungchan replied, though there was already less certainty behind it than before. “people know that.”
“and now we're not,” you said flatly.
sungchan's eyes flicked toward you.
“that's not—”
“then what exactly is it?” irritation slipped into your voice before you could stop it. “because she seemed pretty comfortable asking you to ditch me and go drink with her alone.”
“i'm just saying i don't think sohee would do something like that.”
“really?" mina asked with a lifted eyebrow.
“i don't know,” he said after a moment, quieter now. “i just think there's probably another explanation.”
nobody at the table looked particularly convinced, least of all you.
there was something deeply violating about the assumption sitting underneath it all in a way you struggled to articulate properly even to yourself. the knowledge that somebody who already looked at you with such obvious contempt had apparently spent enough time talking about your private life for it to start leaking outward into other social circles entirely.
you did not care whether people thought you and sungchan were serious. you did not even particularly care whether people thought the situation between you was messy. what you cared about was the fact your business had somehow stopped being yours.
beside you, sungchan shifted slightly in his chair before his hand brushed lightly against your knee beneath the table, tentative enough to feel almost cautious now. you could tell he was trying to smooth things over before they became something uglier, trying to keep the fragile balance he always seemed desperate to maintain between you and sohee from cracking open completely in front of him.
but the frustration had already rooted itself too deeply by then to disappear so easily, sitting low and heavy, simmering steadily beneath your skin in a way that refused to cool no matter how much you tried brushing it aside afterward.
it lingered long after the conversation moved on. through the rest of your lectures while your attention drifted uselessly between powerpoint slides and unfinished notes. through the walk back to your apartment afterward. through the messages mina kept sending later that evening complaining about sohee on your behalf.
it followed you all the way through to the next evening in quiet irritating waves, your apartment slowly filling with noise as music vibrated low through the walls as you all got ready for minseok's party. makeup products cluttered every available surface around your vanity, tangled necklaces mixed between half-zipped bags and abandoned hair clips while the sharp smell of perfume and setting spray settled thickly through the room beneath the heat coming from your curling iron left running against the counter.
outside the windows the city glowed softly beneath the darkening sky, headlights smearing into blurred ribbons of white and gold against rain-damp streets while somewhere below your apartment building groups of students drifted between bars and pre-drinks wrapped in jackets against the cold.
usually the ritual of getting ready helped smooth you back into yourself again. there was something easy about nights like this most of the time, sitting cross-legged on the floor while mina argued loudly about outfits she claimed to hate five minutes after choosing them herself, chaewon stealing your lip gloss without asking, jiwon stretched across your bed scrolling absentmindedly through playlists trying to find music everyone agreed on.
but tonight your patience felt thinner than usual. annoyance sat there stubbornly, dull and oppressive and impossible to ignore no matter how many times you tried pushing the entire situation to the back of your mind.
you stood in front of the mirror dragging eyeliner carefully along your lashline while mina hovered behind you trying to clasp your necklace into place with noticeably declining patience.
“hold still,” she complained.
“i am holding still.”
“you keep moving your head.”
“because you’re yanking my shoulder off.”
mina clicked her tongue in annoyance before finally managing to fasten the necklace properly. “there. god. you act like a difficult toddler.”
you fell quiet, turning back to your hair as sohee's name surfaced again, mina’s earlier jokes about committing acts of violence against him still sitting somewhere in the back of your head.
behind you, chaewon glanced up from where she sat curled against the edge of your bed adjusting the strap of her heel.
“if he says one weird thing to you tonight i’m throwing my drink at him.”
“please don’t,” jiwon sighed from the pillows. “i don’t wanna get kicked out just because drunk chae wants to get activated.”
“why are we acting like i’m the problem? he’s literally evil. spawn of satan even."
despite yourself, a small laugh escaped through your nose at that.
the sound of the apartment buzzer cut briefly through the music, jiwon glancing up first from where she sat cross-legged near the end of your bed.
“that’s probably sungchan,” she said, pushing herself up from the mattress while smoothing down the front of her skirt.
“finally. if mina keeps changing outfits we’re genuinely never leaving this apartment.”
“i heard that,”mina shouted from somewhere inside your bathroom.
the apartment door opened less than a minute later followed by the low murmur of voices drifting faintly down the hallway before footsteps approached your bedroom. you barely looked up at first, attention fixed on the careful line of lip liner gliding across your mouth through the mirror before giving him a glance and he looked good tonight, annoyingly good, honestly.
the black shirt stretched cleanly across his chest and shoulders beneath the leather jacket hanging open against his frame while silver glinted softly at his throat from the chain resting against his skin. his jeans sat low against his hips in that careless way that somehow only made him look broader, longer, and hanging loosely from one of the belt loops near his thigh was the small basketball charm you’d bought for him months ago during one of those stupid little shopping trips neither of you had even planned on turning into a date at the time. you had forgotten about it entirely until now.
“damn,” he laughed quietly, gaze moving over the disaster zone of makeup and clothes covering nearly every surface.
“it looks like a war zone in here.”
he greeted the others easily enough, exchanging quick familiarities. through all of it you barely shifted from the mirror, still smoothing carefully along the edge of your bottom lip while the conversation blurred softly together behind you.
warmth settled suddenly against your back. sungchan’s hands slid loosely around your waist from behind while he leaned forward enough for his chin to rest against your shoulder, the weight of him familiar and heavy.
“hi,” he murmured quietly.
you hummed absently in response without pausing your makeup, continuing to blend the edge of the liner with your fingertip while his hold around your waist tightened slightly for a second like he was trying to pull himself a little closer.
the shift in him afterward was subtle as he straightened slightly behind you before one of his hands slipped upward from your waist. his fingers brushed lightly along your jaw before hooking gently beneath your chin, angling your face back toward him until your eyes finally met his properly through the mirror. up close, the concern sitting beneath his expression became easier to read, softened into the slight pull between his brows and the careful way his gaze searched yours like he was trying to gauge what mood he had walked into tonight before deciding how to handle it.
“you’re still mad at me."
you rolled your eyes faintly, though not with much real energy behind it. “i’m not mad.”
the corner of his mouth twitched slightly at that like he did not believe you for even a second. his thumb brushed once absently beneath your jaw while he continued watching you, warm and patient in that way that normally made it impossible to stay irritated with him for very long.
behind you mina made a loud disgusted noise from somewhere near the bed, complaining dramatically about the two of you, but neither of you paid much attention to her. the previous night still sat unpleasantly between you both, unresolved in that quiet lingering way arguments sometimes became when neither person felt strongly enough to keep fighting but neither fully let the irritation go either.
the argument itself had not even been particularly serious in hindsight. sungchan had done what he always did whenever things involving sohee started turning ugly, trying to soften the situation before it escalated any further while you grew increasingly annoyed by how determined he seemed to be to keep the peace no matter who ended up frustrated in the process. he had told you people talked all the time, that you were blowing things out of proportion and to not let it get to you so much.
“i just think you’re letting it bother you too much,” he said carefully after a moment, voice quieter now beneath the music still playing through the apartment.
“people say stupid shit all the time, it doesn’t matter as long as we know what the truth is.”
you reached automatically for your lipgloss again before answering, twisting the lid of the tube open slower than necessary while irritation curled low and unpleasant through your chest all over again.
“yeah,” you replied coolly, finally meeting his eyes through the mirror once more, “and your best friend seems to enjoy giving them material.”
the discomfort crossing his face afterward appeared immediately, something close to exhaustion, like he could already feel the conversation slipping toward the same place it always did whenever sohee became involved somehow. around the room the others fell quieter without meaning to.
"you sure love defending him too."
“i’m not defending him,” sungchan said softly after a second.
a quiet laugh escaped through your nose before you twisted the lipgloss shut harder than necessary and finally turned properly toward him now, the movement forcing him to take half a step back to make room between your bodies.
“you always say that right before defending him.”
something flickered faintly across his face at that. it was the exact same expression he used to wear during arguments toward the end of your relationship, back when every disagreement somehow managed to stretch itself across entire days because sungchan could never stop himself from trying to keep everybody happy at once. even when things between you had already started rotting quietly beneath the surface, he still approached conflict the same way every single time, desperate to smooth rough edges down before anybody could get hurt badly enough to leave permanent damage behind.
arguments with him never burned hot and fast. they dragged, lingered, turned into exhausted half-conversations at three in the morning and careful apologies neither of you fully meant just because sungchan hated tension enough to keep trying to fix it long after there was anything left worth fixing.
you could already feel this conversation threatening to become the same thing if it continued.
sungchan exhaled quietly through his nose, gaze dropping briefly toward the floor before lifting back toward you again. he opened his mouth like he was about to explain himself further, probably something measured and reasonable and endlessly diplomatic that would only irritate you more the longer he spoke, but before either of you could continue, chaewon abruptly stepped between the two of you holding out a shot glass toward your chest with the exhausted expression of somebody interrupting children mid argument.
“absolutely not,” she announced flatly while pressing the drink into your hand.
“whatever weird divorced energy this is can wait until after the party."
the interruption broke the tension just enough for the room to loosen around the edges again.
sungchan finally gave up on whatever he had been about to say, rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck before reaching automatically for your jacket instead. you tipped the shot back in one swallow, cheap alcohol burning sharply down your throat as everybody finally started gathering their things to leave.
by the time you had arrived near minseok’s house the alcohol had softened the edges of your mood slightly. the drive over had dissolved mostly into overlapping noise from the girls in the backseat arguing over music and shouting half-drunk stories over one another while sungchan drove with one hand loose against the steering wheel, city lights sliding in blurred streaks across the sharp angles of his face every time another car passed in the opposite direction.
the party was already spilling halfway out onto the street by the time you got there.
music thundered loudly enough that you could feel the bass vibrating through the pavement before you even stepped fully out of the car, warm bodies crowding the front lawn in loose clusters beneath strings of coloured lights. the sharp earthy smell of weed already bleeding thickly into the cold night air before you even reached the front door and inside felt worse, hotter.
the kind of suffocating heat that only existed inside overcrowded college parties where too many bodies had been packed together for too many hours already, sweat and cheap alcohol settling heavily into the air beneath flashing strobe lights that painted everything in brief violent bursts of colour.
mina grabbed your wrist almost immediately after stepping inside so nobody lost each other in the crowd, chaewon following close behind while sungchan stayed automatically at your back guiding you through the bodies pressing shoulder to shoulder around the entrance hallway. every few steps somebody stopped him to say hello, and each time he responded easily enough before turning back toward your group again almost immediately.
within the first twenty minutes the party had already started dissolving your group apart in the same natural way it always did once enough alcohol and noise got involved. chaewon disappeared first after loudly announcing she was “finding something stronger before she developed sobriety,” vanishing somewhere toward the kitchen with a determined expression and mina immediately yelling after her not to accept mystery jungle juice from engineering students again. not even five minutes later mina herself had dragged jiwon toward the centre of the living room where people were already dancing with the kind of reckless commitment usually reserved for much later in the night, disappearing quickly into the shifting crowd before either of them could be talked out of it.
you let them go without much thought. honestly, all you really wanted at that point was to get drunk enough for your brain to finally quiet down. the irritation from the past two days still lingered stubbornly and the more you tried not to think about it, the more it kept circling back anyway, ugly in its persistence.
so instead you drank. a vodka soda somebody shoved into your hand near the kitchen. half of mina’s drink that she had abandoned on the counter you leaned against. another shot pressed into your palm by somebody you vaguely recognised from one of your classes.
after a while the alcohol began settling properly into your bloodstream, loosening something inside you. your body felt lighter than it had earlier, thoughts moving a little slower around the edges while warmth lingered steadily across your cheeks. every now and then you caught yourself swaying slightly when you stopped moving for too long, the room never quite spinning but shifting just enough beneath your feet to remind you exactly how much you'd already had to drink.
eventually you ended up leaning against the wall near the entrance to the kitchen, momentarily removed from the worst of the crowd while taking another slow sip from your drink. from there you could still see sungchan not too far away across the room, trapped in conversation with two guys from the volleyball society while somebody else kept trying unsuccessfully to pull him into a drinking game happening near the kitchen island.
after another few minutes sungchan finally seemed to escape whatever conversation had trapped him across the room. not that it made much difference at first. people still kept stopping him on the way back, brief interruptions stretching what should have been a simple walk across the room into something noticeably longer. from where you stood, half distracted by the vodka settling warmly through your bloodstream, the whole thing felt oddly familiar. sungchan had always moved through rooms like that, never quite belonging entirely to himself once enough people were around.
“hey,” sungchan said once he stopped in front of you, voice lowered instinctively now that he was close enough not to shout over the music.
his hand settled automatically against the small of your back while he spoke, fingers spreading lightly over the exposed skin there before his thumb started moving in slow absentminded circles against one of the dimples near your spine. standing this close, the rest of the room seemed to narrow around him until most of what you could see was leather, broad shoulders and the line of his chest. his leather jacket smelled faintly like alcohol and cologne, warmth radiating from him strongly enough after spending the last hour moving through overcrowded rooms that it almost clung against your skin too.
for a few seconds neither of you really said anything while the crowd shifted around you in restless waves, then sungchan’s mouth twitched slightly.
“no dancing on tables tonight?”
despite yourself, a brief grin pulled at your mouth before you tipped your head back lightly against the wall behind you.
“definitely not in minseok’s apartment,” you answered dryly. “god knows what’s been done on that counter.”
the laugh that escaped him came easy, low and genuine enough to pull a quieter one from you too before the sound dissolved naturally back into the chaos around you. afterward the moment softened slightly into something quieter between the two of you, sungchan still standing close while his eyes searched your face more carefully now that you had finally smiled at him properly for the first time all evening.
“and us?” he asked after a moment, voice gentler now beneath the noise surrounding you. “we’re okay?”
instead of answering immediately, you lifted the drink toward your lips only to realise the cup was empty, ice knocking quietly against the plastic while your gaze drifted briefly somewhere over his shoulder.
there was no point dragging this out anyway.
sungchan was not your boyfriend anymore, and the entire reason the two of you had slipped into this strange undefined limbo in the first place was specifically to avoid situations like this, avoid expectations and conversations and the slow exhausting feeling of slipping back into old habits that demanded far more emotional investment than you actually wanted to give him. the relationship had already died once beneath the weight of too many unresolved fractures.
so you just placed the empty cup into his hands instead.
“we will be if you get me a refill.”
something visibly eased across his face at that, subtle but immediate enough for you to catch it anyway.
“one vodka lemonade,” he said while lifting the cup slightly in acknowledgment, “coming right up.”
then he gave a stupid little salute that made you snort quietly beneath your breath before finally stepping away from in front of you and disappearing back toward the kitchen, the crowd parting around his broad frame as your eyes followed him automatically across the room.
halfway toward the kitchen, he spotted sohee. you noticed the recognition immediately in the way sungchan’s pace shifted slightly before he angled naturally toward the opposite side of the room, one hand still holding your empty cup while he lifted the other briefly in greeting across the crowd.
and that was when you saw sohee properly for the first time that night.
the irritation that had been sitting stubbornly for the past two days seemed to sharpen immediately the second your eyes landed on him, spreading through your body in a way that felt almost physical. it settled low beneath your ribs before unfurling slowly outward, hot enough that your chest burned with it.
he stood near the corner of the living room beside one of the speakers, half-leaning back against the wall with a drink hanging loose from his fingers. the heat inside the house had softened him slightly around the edges compared to the version of him you usually saw, dark blond hair messier now where either his own hands or somebody else’s had clearly pushed through it repeatedly throughout the night, strands falling low across his forehead.
the black sleeveless top he wore clung close enough to show the lean definition of his torso beneath it, exposing toned arms already lightly flushed from alcohol while low-rise jeans hung carelessly against narrow hips secured with a dark belt sitting loose enough for the white waistband of his calvin klein boxers to become briefly visible whenever he shifted position or laughed.
and worst of all, he looked comfortable. comfortable enough that something about it felt almost disorientating to witness after months of dealing with the version of him that existed only around you, all cold silences and passive cruelty and sharp little comments designed to poison the atmosphere the second you walked into it.
right now none of that seemed visible anywhere on him. he was laughing quietly at something sungchan said after finally reaching him, shoulders loose while one of his friends shoved hard against his arm and nearly knocked the drink from his hand entirely. instead of snapping like you half expected him to, sohee only laughed again before pushing back at the guy’s chest while the rest of the group crowded around them shouted drunkenly over the music.
you hated that, hated the sharp imbalance of it. hated the fact that you had spent hours replaying unfinished sentences and ugly implications in your head while he apparently moved through life untouched by any of it.
it made something bitter curl tighter inside your chest.
almost like sungchan could physically feel the weight of your stare from across the room and suddenly remembered why he had walked away from you in the first place, his expression shifted slightly. he glanced back toward where you stood against the wall before nodding once toward the kitchen with his head, lifting your empty cup briefly in indication that he was finally going to get the refill he had promised you.
instinctively, your gaze found sohee again, almost before you properly realised you were searching for him, some part of you already anticipating the familiar shift that usually happened whenever he noticed your presence somewhere nearby. over the past few months you had become used to it despite yourself, the visible hardening that entered his expression the second his eyes landed on you, the subtle tightening through his shoulders and jaw, the way entire rooms seemed to cool several degrees whenever the two of you occupied the same space for too long.
but nothing happened.
even after sungchan stepped away, sohee never looked in your direction. he remained where he was near the speaker, one shoulder resting lazily against the wall while conversation continued around him, answering whatever was being said with the same easy familiarity as before without once glancing across the room.
your jaw tightened faintly while you continued staring across the room longer than you probably should have. from this distance it would have been impossible for him not to know you were there. sungchan had literally just walked away from your side moments earlier. there was no realistic way sohee had somehow failed to notice that.
which meant he was choosing not to look.
after all the hostility and sharp silences and passive cruelty that seemed to follow him every time the two of you ended up trapped in the same room together, some ugly part of you had still expected recognition the second his eyes landed on you tonight. at least acknowledgment.
instead you got nothing.
after everything, the indifference felt oddly insulting, the humiliating awareness that you had spent nearly forty-eight hours carrying this situation around in your head while sohee stood twenty feet away looking completely untouched by any of it.
your eyes stayed fixed stubbornly across the room despite yourself, following the careless rhythm of his movements. the absent way he pushed his hair back from his forehead while listening to somebody beside him speak, the slight tilt of his mouth whenever another laugh escaped him, the complete absence of that familiar guardedness while people crowded around him as though nothing in the world required his attention beyond the conversation he was already having.
sungchan finally reappeared through the crowd carrying a fresh drink in one hand while a small group of his friends followed loosely behind him, the familiar shape of johnny immediately recognisable. wonbin walked beside him saying something that made the others laugh while somebody farther behind nearly stumbled directly into the kitchen counter hard enough to send drinks sloshing over the edge.
sungchan reached you first.
“here you go, m’lady,” he said with a grin while holding the vodka lemonade out toward you, condensation already dripping cold against his fingers from the plastic cup. the stupid theatricality of it almost pulled another smile from you, and beside him johnny immediately snorted.
“god,” he muttered dramatically, slinging an arm across wonbin’s shoulders. “you two make me feel violently single.”
“that sounds personal,” you answered dryly before finally taking the drink from sungchan’s hand.
johnny pointed vaguely toward you like he had just been deeply validated somehow while the rest of the group laughed behind him.
the warmth in his expression softened slightly once your fingers wrapped around the drink he had brought back for you, like the simple act of accepting it had eased something inside him again after the strange tension lingering between you both all evening. he stayed standing close enough that his shoulder brushed lightly against yours every time somebody shoved past too roughly through the crowd, broad frame instinctively angling slightly in front of you whenever groups stumbled too near.
“wonbin apparently has some new strain he’s been talking about for like three days straight,” sungchan said after a moment, glancing briefly toward the front hallway where people kept drifting in and out carrying coats and cigarettes. “they’re gonna smoke outside for a bit.”
wonbin lifted his hands immediately in self defence. “because unlike the rest of you degenerates, i actually value quality when it comes to what i'm smoking."
“you bought it from a guy that calls himself spider,” johnny replied flatly.
“that means nothing.”
“that means literally everything.”
another wave of laughter rolled loosely through the group while sungchan looked back toward you again, expression gentler now beneath the flashing lights. “you wanna come?” he asked. “it’s quieter outside.”
“i’m okay,” you answered before lifting the drink toward your lips.
sungchan studied your face for a second longer like he was trying to decide whether he believed you before eventually nodding anyway. he leaned down afterward before pressing a quick kiss against your cheek.
“don’t disappear,” he murmured lightly near your ear.
then he finally stepped away again, johnny immediately slinging an arm across sungchan’s shoulders the second they turned toward the front door while wonbin continued loudly defending his self proclaimed mastery in the art of weed purchasing. you watched them disappear gradually into the shifting crowd beneath the lights until the front door finally opened.
your focus moved vaguely between the drink in your hand and the movement across the room without fully settling on either for very long until suddenly mina appeared beside you again looking flushed and glowing from dancing, strands of hair sticking lightly against her forehead while chaewon followed close behind fanning herself dramatically with somebody’s abandoned paper plate.
“oh my god,” mina breathed the second she reached you, still half laughing from whatever had just happened on the dance floor. “have you literally been standing here this entire time?”
you lifted the vodka lemonade vaguely in response before taking another sip. “i’ve moved at least twice actually.”
“who are you and what have you done with my fun best friend?”
chaewon leaned heavily against the wall beside you afterward, chest still rising slightly faster from dancing while the gloss on her lips had smudged faintly around the edges.
“ignore her,” she sighed dramatically before immediately grabbing your wrist. “listen to me instead because i think i finally found the man who’s gonna help me forget jaehyun.”
you raised an eyebrow slowly. “really?”
“you should have seen her” mina cut in immediately. “she was dancing on this guy like rent was due.”
“okay first of all,” chaewon snapped while fixing her hair in the reflection of the darkened window beside you, “he was really hot.”
“he looks like he hasn't had a single productive thought in a week.”
“i don't need a philosopher, i need a hot guy to fuck me.”
despite yourself, a quieter laugh escaped through your nose at that while chaewon continued ranting passionately about how she deserved to rebound in peace without being judged for it. around you the party seemed almost softer for a moment beneath the familiar rhythm of your friends talking over one another, the conversation managing to pull you out of your own head for a moment. while mina reached over to steal a sip from your drink before immediately grimacing at how strong it was.
“jesus christ,” she coughed. “what is wrong with you?”
“a lot actually.”
another wave of laughter passed between the three of you while chaewon suddenly glanced back toward the centre of the living room where a new song had apparently started, her expression changing instantly.
“oh absolutely not,” she gasped while grabbing mina’s arm. “they’re playing megan thee stallion. we have to go back immediately.”
mina groaned dramatically toward the ceiling before looking back at you again. “come with us this time,” she demanded. “you’ve been standing here looking emotionally unavailable for like forty minutes.”
“i’m fine here.”
“that look on your face proves otherwise.”
you only rolled your eyes before taking another sip from your drink, the cold sting of vodka and lemonade sliding numbingly down your throat while the bass continued vibrating through your chest.
"i don't need a babysitter, im fine."
mina hesitated for a second longer, eyes narrowing slightly like she was trying to decide whether to push harder. “you sure?”
“go dance,” you said finally, softer this time. “i’ll survive without supervision for five minutes.”
for all their dramatics and constant complaining, the hesitation lingering there was real enough that warmth flickered faintly through your chest despite yourself. eventually mina squeezed briefly at your arm before finally relenting.
“fine,” she sighed. “but if you suddenly become fun again, come find us.”
the two of them disappeared back into the crowd together, swallowed so quickly by the house that within seconds it was impossible to tell where they'd gone.
for a while you stayed exactly where you were, shoulder resting lightly against the wall while the night carried on around you without requiring much participation. conversations bled together into background noise, faces becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of the more you drank. the vodka had softened the edges of everything just enough that time started slipping strangely.
your gaze drifted without purpose at first, aimless beneath the haze settling slowly over your thoughts. then, inevitably, your eyes found sohee again.
this time he had drifted slightly away from the larger group, and the sight that greeted you lodged beneath your skin almost instantly. yuna stood close enough to him now that her body nearly brushed his chest while she balanced lightly onto the balls of her feet, one hand resting against the back of his neck to pull him lower toward her mouth so he could hear her properly over the music.
sohee bent automatically at the waist without hesitation, broad shoulders shifting beneath the thin black fabric stretched tightly across his back while his arms folded loosely across his chest, forearms flexing faintly beneath flushed skin from the movement. from this distance you could not hear a single word being exchanged between them, only the shape of the conversation disappearing entirely beneath the relentless bass swallowing the room whole.
still, something inside you tightened immediately at the sight.
because despite the complete lack of evidence, despite how irrational it actually was, you could not stop the immediate certainty settling low and poisonous inside your chest that somehow the conversation had circled back toward you. maybe it was yuna specifically that sharpened the feeling, the memory of the cafeteria flashing unpleasantly through your head all over again. maybe it was simply the fact that sohee had spent enough time occupying space inside your thoughts lately that now every glance around him felt loaded automatically whether it actually was or not.
you hated how much it bothered you.
hated the humiliating awareness that you were standing there trying to read meaning into body language and half-seen gestures like somebody genuinely unstable while sohee himself still looked maddeningly untouched by any of it. across the room yuna finally pulled back first, though her hand lingered briefly against the back of his neck another second longer before dropping away. sohee remained bent slightly toward her for half a heartbeat afterward before straightening again, eyes lowering briefly while she said one last thing that pulled the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
then he nodded once. easy, casual, completely unaffected.
afterward he handed her the drink still hanging loose from his fingers before turning away from the group entirely and starting toward the darker hallway leading deeper into the house where the music dulled slightly beneath the walls.
something inside you moved before your brain fully caught up to it.
your grip tightened automatically around the cup in your hand before you tipped the rest of the vodka lemonade back in one long swallow, the sharp burn sliding cold and heavy down your throat while your pulse thudded thickly somewhere beneath your ribs. by the time you lowered the empty cup again, sohee had already nearly disappeared from sight beyond the edge of the hallway.
you barely thought at all before pushing yourself away from the wall and following after him.
the sound of your heels carried sharply through the hallway once you stepped fully away from the party, striking against the wooden floor in slow measured clicks that felt strangely loud compared to the muffled bass now vibrating distantly behind the walls. the farther you moved from the living room, the quieter everything became, though not truly silent. music still pulsed faintly beneath the floorboards while laughter drifted somewhere upstairs alongside the occasional slam of a bathroom door farther down the corridor. the dim lighting softened the hallway into warmer shadows compared to the chaos consuming the rest of the house, catching unevenly against discarded jackets, abandoned cups and the thin sheen of sweat still clinging faintly to your skin from hours spent inside the crowd.
ahead of you, sohee remained half turned away near the bathroom entrance with his attention lowered toward the phone in his hand, one broad shoulder resting briefly against the wall while his free hand moved absently along the back of his neck. from this close, every detail seemed clearer somehow without the constant movement of the crowd between you both. the black sleeveless shirt stretched cleanly across the width of his shoulders and upper back whenever he shifted his weight, blond strands hanging damp and dishevelled across his forehead while the silver chain resting against his throat caught faintly beneath the yellow glow from the lamp nearby.
the moment the sound of your footsteps fully registered you observed the faint tightening that moved subtly through his shoulders before his head lifted from the screen in his hand and his gaze sharpened instinctively toward the sound approaching behind him. the second his eyes landed on you standing there at the centre of the hallway, recognition settled visibly across his face and erased whatever loose absent ease had existed there moments earlier.
it happened fast enough to feel almost automatic, the line of his mouth flattening slightly while something colder slid neatly back into place behind his expression, familiar in a way that made heat rise low through your chest all over again because finally, after an entire night spent pretending otherwise, sohee looked at you exactly the way you had been expecting him to.
for a few seconds neither of you said anything.
the silence, neither of you looking away from each other long enough to acknowledge it. up close now, the tension that had spent weeks festering beneath every interaction finally felt stripped of all the buffers that usually softened it, no sungchan standing awkwardly between you trying to smooth things over, no crowded kitchen forcing either of you to swallow your reactions before they escalated too far.
there was only the two of you now. and sohee looked exactly the way you had expected him to the second he finally acknowledged your existence again.
the loose ease he had worn across the party had disappeared entirely. the harder version of him had slipped immediately back into place the moment recognition sunk in, visible now in the stillness sitting through his body and the line of his mouth while his gaze remained fixed on you with that same familiar restrained hostility you had spent weeks learning how to read.
your eyes dragged slowly across his face beneath the dim hallway lighting before finally meeting his stare properly again.
“why the fuck have you been talking about me to other people?”
sohee’s expression tightened immediately afterward, not with guilt or surprise but with something closer to pure irritation, like the accusation itself offended him. one side of his mouth pulled faintly while he looked at you for another second before scrunching his face slightly in visible disgust.
“you really think i have so little going on in my life that i spend my time talking about you?”
“well clearly you do,” you shot back quickly, “seeing as yuna’s suddenly repeating information i’m pretty sure didn’t magically fall out of the sky on its own.”
at the mention of yuna, something flickered faintly across his expression before he scoffed under his breath, the sound sharp and genuinely irritated enough that it echoed slightly in the quieter hallway. he shook his head once afterward while looking at you like you were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“so i spoke about you with one of my friends? not like i told her anything that wasn’t true.”
the words landed harder than they should have.
you stared at him for a second while then rolled your eyes slowly, the expression spreading deliberately across your face in a way that only seemed to sharpen the hostility already sitting between you both.
“you seriously don’t hear how fucking weird you sound?” you asked quietly, stepping closer now without properly realising it.
"seriously. what is your actual problem? because every time i turn around you've somehow made yourself part of something that never involved you in the first place."
“because unlike you, some people actually gave a shit about what happens to sungchan.”
“oh my god,” you laughed quietly. “you act like i ruined his life or something."
“but you did.”
the answer came so quickly it almost overlapped your own words.
for a second the hallway seemed to tighten around the both of you. whatever restraint had still been holding his composure together earlier was beginning to crack visibly around the edges, irritation bleeding steadily into something far rougher and more personal beneath the surface, like your complete inability to understand why he hated you this much genuinely disgusted him on some fundamental level.
“so stop standing here acting all shocked every time i make it obvious i don’t like you,” he continued, voice lower now but significantly less controlled than before.
“you don’t get to walk around acting all high and mighty after what you did.”
“for what though?” you shot back immediately, stepping closer now while heat climbed steadily through your chest.
“you don’t like me, okay, great. but you've spent months acting like a miserable prick every time i'm in the same room as you and i just don't get it.”
something snapped visibly across his expression then.
“because you fucking cheated on him,” he said, the words coming harsher this time, disbelief and anger twisting together beneath every syllable. “multiple times. then you walked away from him like he was the one to blame while he was already falling apart.”
your jaw tightened instantly.
“and now i’m supposed to believe you suddenly care about his wellbeing?” sohee continued before you could interrupt, eyes narrowing harder now while the muscles along his forearms flexed beneath crossed arms. “i’m supposed to believe you’re back in his life because of some newfound love for him or because you suddenly want a relationship again? give me a fucking break.”
the bitterness underneath his voice was ugly enough to scrape against your nerves.
"are you serious?" you laughed sharply. "that's what this is? you've spent months acting like i'm some sort of serial killer because i cheated on my ex-boyfriend?"
“you’re standing here bitching and crying over something he’s already moved on from,” you snapped back. “wish the same could be said about you.”
the reaction in him was immediate.
his jaw flexed hard enough for you to notice it beneath the dim hallway light while something genuinely furious darkened behind his expression for the first time since the conversation started.
“because he’s pathetic when it comes to you,” sohee said flatly. “i don’t know what sort of fucking hold you have over him, but it’s clearly clouding his judgement.”
“he’s pathetic because he’s not acting like some overgrown baby over cheating?” you scoffed. “oh my god, sohee, when the fuck are you gonna grow up?”
a humourless laugh escaped him at that, low and bitter enough that it immediately raised the temperature between you another degree.
“of course you’d say something like that,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly while looking down at you with open disgust now. “people like you always do.”
your eyebrows pulled together.
“people like me?”
“selfish people,” he said flatly. “people who leave a trail of damage behind them and then act confused when somebody points it out.”
"i guess being a bitch apparently becomes acceptable when you're pretty enough.”
“watch your mouth, sohee.”
“why?” he laughed bitterly, eyes narrowing now while the muscles in his jaw flexed visibly beneath flushed skin. “because hearing the truth makes you uncomfortable?”
“what makes me uncomfortable is you acting like some bitter fucking ex when none of this had anything to do with you in the first place.”
what had started as hostility had become something far uglier somewhere during the conversation, something raw enough that you could practically feel it tightening through the air around his body. because the second the words left your mouth, something in sohee’s expression changed completely.
the loss of control showed itself in smaller ways that somehow made it worse, the way his shoulders drew faintly tighter beneath the black fabric stretched across them, the way his jaw flexed once so hard you could see the muscle jump beneath flushed skin before he looked away briefly toward the floor like he physically needed a second to process what you had just said. when his eyes lifted back toward you again, whatever restraint had still been holding the conversation together earlier was visibly beginning to split apart around the edges.
“nothing to do with me?” he repeated quietly.
the look in his eyes made the hallway suddenly feel far too narrow.
you opened your mouth instinctively, already prepared to bite something cruel back at him before he could continue, but sohee spoke first, the words coming rougher now.
“you weren’t there,” he said, voice tightening unevenly around the sentence like the memory itself still sat somewhere lodged beneath his ribs.
“you weren’t there when he stopped eating properly for almost a month because every time somebody mentioned your name he looked like he was gonna be sick. you weren’t there when he couldn’t sleep. you weren’t there when he sat on the floor of our apartment crying over you like some fucking idiot because he couldn’t understand why he still wanted you back after everything you did to him.”
the force of it hollowed something briefly out of the air between you. the sharp immediate tightening in your chest at being spoken to like you were some uniquely evil person instead of somebody who had simply done something selfish and messy and human.
you hated the way sohee looked at you when he spoke, like he genuinely believed morality itself sat cleanly on one side of the room with him while you stood on the other dripping rot onto everything you touched.
your chin lifted slightly despite the pressure now building suffocatingly between you both.
“so what?” you answered flatly after a second. “it’s not like you’re the one i cheated on.”
“thank god i’m not sungchan,” he muttered bitterly, eyes dragging slowly across your face with open contempt now. “i’d rather die than let myself get played by the campus communal hole.”
the insult hit low and immediate as heat surged violently through your chest before thought could properly catch up to it. one second there was still space between your bodies, thick with hostility and sharp breathing and unresolved resentment, and the next your fist had twisted violently into the front of his tank top, bunching the black fabric tightly in your hand while you shoved him backward hard enough for his shoulders to collide against the wall behind him with a dull impact.
the movement startled him and you saw it immediately in the brief widening of his eyes before anger swallowed the reaction whole again.
suddenly you were impossibly close. close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body through the thin material crushed between your fingers, close enough to smell alcohol and smoke clinging heavily to his skin beneath the cleaner scent of his cologne, close enough to see the pulse beating sharply beneath the side of his throat while his breathing shifted unevenly.
“go on, use the word you really want to say” you hissed, voice rough now beneath the fury burning through your chest while you jerked him slightly forward off the wall again.
“say it. call me a slut, since you’re suddenly feeling so fucking brave.”
"sohee the great, slutshaming a woman, because of what? because i actually enjoy having sex?because i don't fake purity and virginity for vanilla guys like you?"
sohee stared down at you without blinking, chest rising harder now beneath your hand while tension spread visibly through every line of his body pinned against the wall behind him. the hatred was still there, obvious in the hard set of his jaw and the dark look fixed across his face, but underneath it now sat something far more dangerous than either of you had intended when this conversation first started, something hot and volatile crackling low through the tiny amount of space left separating your bodies.
still, when he finally spoke, the contempt remained intact.
“i don’t need to humour you or your manic ranting.”
“fuck you, sohee,” you spat back instantly, fingers twisting tighter into the front of his shirt until the fabric strained audibly between your fists.
“you know what i actually think? i think you're so busy worrying about everybody else's sex life because you've got absolutely nothing going on in your own.”
the disgust darkened immediately across his face.
“i think you're so miserable watching everybody around you actually enjoy themselves that you've convinced yourself it's some moral failing instead.”
the shove had locked you both into a space so narrow the rest of the party collapses into nothing but distant bass and smeared light. your fist remains twisted in the front of his shirt, knuckles pressed hard to the steady rise of his chest. his back is flat to the wall, shoulders rigid, and the heat trapped between your bodies thickens instantly, humid and suffocating, the summer air itself seeming to clot in the narrow gap that no longer exists. you can feel every shallow, uneven breath he takes, the way his ribs expand against your forearm, the faint tremor that runs through the muscle under your fingers. without meaning to, your fingers tighten, drawing him that last impossible fraction closer, and he shifts against the wall in a small, involuntary adjustment of his hips that registers before either of you can stop it.
the solid weight of his cock presses against your thigh where your skirt has ridden high. it feels immediately wrong, the blunt, insistent pressure dragging slowly along your skin, the dampness of it seeping through the denim in a slow, spreading patch that clings to you. your stomach drops and for one suspended heartbeat your mind goes perfectly still, the alcohol sharpening every detail until the contact feels almost violent in its clarity.
except the sensation refuses to belong to anything happening between you.
the anger is still there. the disgust too. sohee is still looking down at you with the same hostility that had been sitting across his face since the beginning of the conversation, his jaw tight, his breathing uneven from the force of the argument, every line of him still radiating the same contempt that had finally pushed you into shoving him against the wall in the first place. nothing about the moment has changed. nothing about him has changed.
yet the pressure remains.
your attention catches on it despite yourself, lingering there for a second longer than it should, your brain reaching automatically for explanations that make more sense than the one beginning to form at the edge of your thoughts. his phone, maybe. his keys. something caught awkwardly inside the pocket of his jeans. anything other than—
the realisation drags your focus lower before you can stop it. the outline is unmistakable now, stretched tight and heavy against the front of his jeans, the shape of him clearly defined where the fabric pulls. the weight of it is there, the slow, helpless pulse of it pressing into your thigh with every shallow breath he takes.
you’ve spent months making careless, cutting little jokes about him. about how someone so uptight and sexless probably didn’t have much to work with, months spent rolling your eyes whenever somebody mentioned one of his hookups, dismissing them as exaggerations or jokes about how someone like him probably fucked like he argued: stiff, joyless, and underwhelming. you’ve said it to his face in passing remarks, to sungchan when he wasn’t around, even to yourself when his cold stares got under your skin. you’ve been with enough men to know what’s average and what isn’t, and you’d written him off completely.
and now you’re staring, because this doesn’t make sense. the thick, heavy line of him is pressed right there against your thigh, so obviously, undeniably big that for a second your brain refuses to make the connection at all, the shape of it existing separately from the man standing in front of you, like the two things belong to entirely different people.
lee sohee. the same sohee who’s spent months looking at you like you were something filthy he had to tolerate for sungchan’s sake. the same sohee who acts like sex and desire are beneath him. the sheer size of it feels like a private joke the universe decided to play on you at the worst possible moment. your eyes stay there longer than they should, caught between disbelief and something sharper, something you don’t want to name yet.
your tongue drags slowly across your lower lip, breathing shallow and quick as a flush climbs your neck because you can feel how much he is leaking, the warm dampness spreading slowly against your thigh. your pussy gives one involuntary clench, a traitorous little pulse, your gaze lingering on the way another slow throb rolls through him in response, the way his cock twitches helplessly like it has already chosen for him.
sohee feels the exact moment you understand what you are feeling.
his entire frame locks, the muscle along his jaw jumping once, sharp and visible, horror and self-loathing moving openly across his expression as the reality of it settles over him. his eyes widen, then narrow with something raw and sick, his breathing turning ragged in the narrow space between your faces. for one endless second he simply stares at you, the realisation of what has just happened written plainly across his face.
his hands come up fast.
he shoves you back hard enough that you stumble, the sudden loss of his weight leaving your skin cold where it had been pressed. he is breathing like he has been struck, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven drags, cheeks burning dark beneath the dim light. his eyes are wide with something that looks like panic wearing the thin mask of anger.
“stay the fuck away from my friend,” he mutters, voice low and cracked, already turning as though he cannot bear to look at you any longer.
you stand there with your pulse hammering between your legs, the memory of that insistent weight still burning against your thigh. by the time you finally push yourself away from the wall, the memory still hasn't loosened its grip on you, lingering stubbornly beneath your skin in the same way his words had earlier, except infinitely more irritating. because the last thing you wanted was another reason to think about lee sohee, and now he has given you one.
Pairing -> Ice Hockey Player!Lee Jeno x Justrecoveredfromaconcussion!Female Reader.
Genre -> Fake dating. Fluff. Smut.
Word Count -> 33k
Synopsis -> Lee Jeno was a simple person: show up to class, show up to practice, and commit to them. Simple and easy; which was why Jeno never involved himself in relationships. Situationship, late-night hookups? Sure. Relationships were too complicated for his taste so he became infamous for rejecting people with their romantic pursuits. With that aside, one stupid thing he allowed himself to indulge in was bets. Stupid bets. Some were low stakes, some were high stakes, nevertheless bets. So when his friend, Chenle, challenged him to be in a relationship with one person for three months, a low risk bet with a high reward where if Jeno succeeds, Chenle owes him money, but if Jeno fails, Chenle gets Jeno's precious motorbike (Chenle doesn't even have a license!), Jeno simply couldn't refuse such an easy challenge. Whether by sheer luck or not, you were the victim of this subject - the girl he accidentally pucked who ended up in the hospital with a concussion. So, he asked you out, however, the guilt ate him like a parasite and he confessed the truth to you on your date. You, on the other hand, weren't mad that your secret crush of many years, Jeno, asked you out because of a dumb bet and not because he actually liked you, instead, you proposed to fake date each other and split the prize money between the two of you. Jeno agreed to it and had only one condition from him - don't fall in love with him.
Disclaimer -> don’t read this if you hate cliches 😔! one bed trope, motorcyclist Jeno hehe, mentions of murder, stalking, and suicide (not graphic or explicit at all), riding, mirror sex, slight degradation, vibrator, blowjob.
Author’s Note:- A prequel to this and this. All these three one shots can be read as a stand-alone so you don’t have to read the others if you don’t want to. If you want to read all three, you can read the linked stories above first, since it was released first, and then read the prequel. Or, you can start off with this one aka in chronological order. FYI, Chenle appears in both How to Get Your Boyfriend to Breakup with You 101 and this one but he is not the same Zhong Chenle - they are doppelgängers! Same name, same face but two individuals who lead separate lives! Enjoy hehe <3 ao3 ver if u prefer to read it over there instead!
You know how they say your mind replays your whole life in seven seconds right before you die?
Well, yours replayed the most recent event that led up to that moment.
Lee Jeno flew through the ice rink from one end to the other as he dodged the opponent team with only one goal in mind - the perfect last puck of the game to break the tie. The crowd, including you, watched in anticipation with every glide of the crisp blade that skirted around the icy arena. Jeno's movements were too captivating to take your eyes off him, not just because he was your crush, but because he was a star player for a reason with those swift and skilled movements of his! Your bladder was reaching its limits but the game was almost over so you stayed to watch to the very end. This was it! He was near the goal and there was a small opening in the top right corner of the goalpost if he could accurately hit his shot. All the spectators held their breath as the match counted down to the last few seconds of the game, Jeno paused for a millisecond before he whacked the puck with his stick ; the puck flew off the icy ground, into the air, into the direction of the goal net, but it bounced off the metal post, over the barrier, and smacked you right on the side of your forehead. Knocked out.
Your only last thoughts before your vision faded into total darkness were, please don't let me pee my pants.
"Wanna go to the game?" Your friend asked. The last time you went to an ice hockey game, you ended up in the hospital with a raging concussion to the point you had to take the rest of the semester off to recover. So safe to say, you weren't keen on going to another ice hockey game in your life. Ever. Even if your crush was the star player of the team. Now you were back on campus, fully healed and ready to take on the new semester and whatever may come your way.
"Not in this lifetime ever again." You chatted while everyone in the classroom waited for the lecturer to begin the class.
"I totally forgot about that!" Your friend gasped in guilt. "Sorry."
"It's fine," you chuckled at her. "Cute charm." You loved how the small charms decorated her hand and dangled off her wrist.
"Thanks! I've just added this little car charm." She showed you her new charm. "Went on a road trip over the long weekend."
"Fun! Where'd you go?" You asked her.
"We went to-"
"So!" Professor Choi Sooyoung randomly bursted out in a loud voice and clapped her hands together and the chatter of the classroom died down. "Now that we're done with group projects, we will be focusing on your individual project."
"No more working together," you whispered and frowned at your friend beside you while the Professor talked.
"I'm sad." She pouted back.
"You're more than welcome to take the film in any direction you like as long as it focuses on dark themes." Professor Choi Sooyoung sat on the table. "Any questions?"
Someone raised their hand. "Is sexual intimacy on the table?"
"Everything is on the table: addiction, sex. As long as there's a message behind it. We're all adults here. I'll release a more detailed guideline that you can refer to later." She replied. "But don't go around shooting porn." Some people in the classroom groaned in disappointment.
"I will also be submitting these to a local competition, and whoever gets first place, wins a sponsored trip." This information caused chatter and murmer among your classmates including you. "So I expect quality work from each and everyone of you." She commented and then resumed her lecture till class was over.
You and your friend walked out the lecture hall and headed to the library cafe for a quick pick-me-up before you went your separate ways. "Gosh, I thought this would be an easy elective but she's submitting this to a competition!" You groaned and your friend reciprocated.
"I heard she didn't even do this last semester. Some just filmed on their phone and submitted it as is. So many people got an easy A." Your friend huffed and complained.
"What the heck! Shoot, I don't even have a camera!" The class had only worked and submitted on group projects so far this semester, you took this elective solely because it sounded fun and heard that the professor was chill most of the time, so you had different roles like a script writer or the props person instead of the camera man or the director. Your heart thumped raced in your head at the fact you had to carry all these heavy roles just for an elective! You didn't even own a camera! "Do you have any I can borrow or rent?" You asked as you both entered the library cafe.
"Sorry, I'm also borrowing mine from a friend's friend." She frowned in response. Your lips pursed into a thin and nodded understandingly. "Wait! Let me ask my friend!" She screamed almost too loudly where she received death stares from other people around her. Even though there was a cafe in the library, the quiet rule was still heavily enforced throughout the premise. "Maybe I can ask my friend's friend if he has extra cameras laying around? He's super into photography."
"Really? It's fine if he doesn't have any, I'll find a different way." You reassured her.
"Let me just give it a try." She texted her friend's friend and he promptly texted her back."Yes!" She exclaimed. "He has a couple extra old ones that he doesn't mind lending to you but they're still in good condition. Is that alright for you?"
"More than perfect! I'm just trying to pass this class." You smiled brightly and your heart let out a breath of relief. Now you can focus on other things and order your favourite drink.
"Ok, his name is Bae Jinyoung and I'll text you his contact info." She swiftly sent you his contact information via text.
"Thanks! You're the best!" You hugged her while you both stood in line at the cafe, waiting to order your drinks. The cafe was always occupied with people but today was a bit of a quiet day, granted most of them were still in class while yours ended early.
The second you stepped into the cafe, you glanced at Jeno who sat across from Chenle as they both played games on their phones. Well, you didn't exactly see Chenle but you saw the back of his head which was unmistakably his. There was a secret you kept to yourself and never whispered it to a single soul - not because you were ashamed of it but because you felt silly, almost cliche-like, for liking a popular guy who had never noticed you and it wasn't like you made an effort to get acquainted with him like most people do with their crushes, especially since you knew he infamously doesn't do relationships. You've heard the stories from acquitances and classmates, Jeno's a straightforward type of person who makes it clear from the beginning that it would only be physical, but alas, there was something about his charm, his looks, the way he fucked that made girls fall deeper and deeper with him. Some of them were bold and tried to shoot their shot but Jeno would reject them faster than you could say airball. It would devastate you to have all of him, yet, he was never yours to begin with.
"Staring at Lee Jeno?" Your friend teased and nudged your shoulders while you waited behind someone in line.
Your eyes widened at the fact you got caught staring at Jeno. "N-no," your denial made heat crawled up to your back. "You don't see people with red hair everyday." You pointed to Jeno's hairdo.
"Girl, it's fine. He's hot and cute." Your friend also glanced at Jeno was remained oblivious at the two souls staring at him.
"Someone has a crush," you playfully diverted the attention to her instead.
She snorted at your statement. "He's good looking but not my type."
"Not your type?"
"You know, popular, it's like dating a celebrity. I would get so jealous if other girls constantly looked at my man," she explained.
"Yeah, I get it."
"Is that why you've never talked to him?"
Why the hell was she perspective for? "No!" You jumped in almost too defensively. "Yeah he's cute but he gives me the ick." There was a sliver of truth in your statement. "I saw him sneeze into his hands instead of his elbow or a tissue." When it happened, you were both in the cafe library but you were seated in a corner waiting for your friend to arrive. While Jeno stood in line to order his drink. From a distance, you took note how he finally shed his leather jacket and hoodie when the weather was warmer and traded it for a black T-shirt. You were secretly admiring the way his biceps flexed against the short sleeves but that moment was interrupted when his whole body jolted into a sneeze and he covered it with his hands. Ew. Then proceeded to pay and take his drink with the same unwashed hands. Men. Safe to say you called the time of death on your crush.
"Ew," your friend's face morphed into the exact expression of disgust you made when it happened and you couldn't helped but laugh.
"What would you like to order?" The cashier asked as you both now stood in front of her.
"I'll have a Frappuccino mocha with extra chocolate drizzle." Your friend gave her order to the cashier.
"And I'll have an iced peach lemon tea, please." You promptly added afterwards.
"What size for both?"
"Regular, huh." You informed the cashier.
"Alright, thanks. Your order will be ready once this beeps." She handed a small black device once you both paid for your drinks.
Then, you both situated yourself in the corner booth since it was empty while you waited for your order to be called on. "What are you planning to do for your assignment by the way?" You asked her.
"I'll figure it out later but something along the lines of toxic love, domestic abuse or even touch upon Stockholm syndrome since it sounds interesting to me."
"Ooh! Definitely go for it, I would watch that in a heartbeat." You replied enthusiastically.
"How about you?"
"Ooh," you hissed and gave her question a thought. "I'm leaning towards a thriller type of thing, murder just sounds appealing."
She snorted and quietly laughed at your response. "That sounds so weird without context."
Lee Jeno was a simple man: show up to class, show up to practice, and commit to it. Clean, simple, and predictable. Relationships on the other hand, there were messy, too many variables and miscellaneous feelings involved with no clear winner.
Hence why Jeno kept it straightforward and simple with anyone involved; he makes it clear that it's purely a mutual physical relationship with no labels. If they didn't like it? More than welcome to leave. However, there were still people who chose to read beyond Jeno's words and attemptted to pursue a relationship. He could only shake his head at their silly pursuits and sigh in disappointment before he broke it off. Of course, on more than one occasion, he was met with girls who felt upset and betrayed by him so they hit him, cursed him, smeared his name, and he pretty much had braced himself against those reactions - that was fine. The worst of all was when they would act out in public and dragged him under the scrutinizing eyes of strangers. For once, it would be nice to have someone who understood him and cleanly break it off with no feelings involved.
There was something else he loved as much as the concept of simplicity and predictability - the rush of adrenaline. There was something addicting and inticing to the thrill of not knowing the bounds of your limits. He too found it ironic that two matters on the opposite side of the spectrum was something he liked. The rush of speeding through the highway on his bike, the intense countdown from the game to make his bet, and stupid bets that had no real value to it
"I bet you can't do it." Chenle sucked in the last bits of his coconut matcha and wriggled his eyebrows at Jeno with that cheesy grin of his.
Jeno rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his faded red hair; that was another stupid bet with Chenle, which he unfortunately lost hence the red hair, it was a bet to see who could break more eggs with their head, and lo and behold, it was Zhong Chenle. 42 vs 32. "I can, just don't want to." He rolled his eyes at Chenle.
"Not even if you tried." Chenle snorted which provoked the competitive spirit that was slowly burning up in Jeno as Chenle continued to mocked him.
"You're trying to lure me in." He leaned closer to Chenle. "I'm not doing it." Jeno was determined to not be pulled into Chenle's silly antics again.
"I dare you." His signature grin plastered on his face.
"No." Jeno replied in a bored tone.
"Please!" Chenle whined too loudly which received death glares from other people around them.
Jeno grew conscious of the unwanted stares and toned down his voice even more even though he wasn't the one speakinf loudly. "No."
"I'll give you a thousand!" He begged with his hands clasped together.
"A thousand?" Jeno gawked at the preposition Chenle was throwing for a silly little bet. "Really?" He knew that Chenle had more than enough money to burn for silly things like this but, even then, it was going too far. The stakes did not match the reward.
There was smug smirked stitched on Chenle's face. "Need to burn all my money somehow." He shrugged cockily.
God was he sometimes annoying. "Go on." Nevertheless, he was intrigued with Chenle's proposition.
"If you lose, you give me your motorbike."
"Fuck no way, bets off. You don't even have a license." Jeno shook his head. "I saved up money to buy that bike."
"Nah, it would be the perfect practice bike." He leaned back against the chair and crossed his legs. "Gotta scratch something up before I buy a real bike."
"My motorbike is a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R that can speed at 295 kilometres per hour, " Jeno punched Chenle, "while you scream riding at the back."
"It's because I want to feel Jeno Oppa's hard abs." He cackled and teased by simultaneously touching his biceps and and up but Jeno shooed him away.
"No bet." Jeno shook his head, he knew it was too good to be true.
"So, what I'm hearing is that you're a," Chenle paused for a second. "Chicken," he whispered in Jeno's ear and there was a devilish grin on his face.
"It's not wor-" Jeno took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This was just one of Chenle's many tactics to make other people do stupid things.
"Bok, bok, bok." Chenle started clucking with his hands near his armpit.
"I'm not going to do it." Jeno stood firm.
"Bok, bok, bok." His neck pecked out of his body with his eyes wide opened with his arms folded to the side. "Bok, bok, bok."
"Fine." Jeno grumbled and pursed his lips into a thin line. "So, how's this going to work?"
Chenle clapped his hands excitedly, which received another round of angry stares from people nearby. "You have to date the first girl who orders an iced peach lemon tea for three months. No dating apps, no cheating, a full-on committed relationship." He explained the Jeno premise of the bet.
"Fine, deal."
"Yes!" They both shook on it, especially Chenle with his vigorous handshake. Jeno was a hostage since Chenle was insistent that they would find the perfect candidate at the cafe library. Although Jeno was held against his will, he didn't mind spending the rest of the afternoon there since all his classes for the day was in the morning. Chenle, however, skipped his afternoon class in favour of waiting for the person to order the drink, he would occasionally checked for the time on his watch. They hadn't noticed how quickly time passed because they were engrossed with a game on their respective phones.
"You're so shit at this game." Jeno commented.
"Shut the fuck up. One more round." Chenle's competitive streak was burning with passion.
"Let's just pick whoever comes next, easy." Jeno piped up after awhile.
"No, no, we have to pick the person who orders an iced peach lemon tea." Chenle was insistent. "One more round, dude." So they resumed their game until they heard someone order the drink.
"Iced peach lemon tea, please." A female voice ordered which caught both of the attention. Jeno turned around to see the person who ordered the drink and raised his eyebrow as he watched you and your friend slid into the corner booth. His eyes blinked slowly and his eyebrows knitted together; there was something about you that seemed oddly familiar but he couldn't quite pinpoint it. Were you in the same class as him? No. He would've remembered seeing someone as pretty as you in his class. A party? Not that either.
"We found your girl." Chenle cackled while he rubbed his hands together like an evil maniac. "The bet officially starts now. Go ask her out."
Jeno dusted his hands off his black cargo pants, ready to get up from the chair after hours slummed in the chair, when a cashier approached Chenle. "I'm sorry but we have to ask you to leave the premise." She informed about his much needed departure.
"What?" His voice boomed throughout the gigantic, enclosed space. "For what?!"
"People have been complaining about the disruptive noise." She glanced nervously at him. "Which is you."
"I've been anything but disruptive! These bitches should mind their business!" His voice grew louder and louder without his realising it. People stared at him with a frown on their faces.
At this point, heat crawled up from Jeno's neck all the way up to his ears and he had his head down in embarrassment. "Chenle, apologise and leave." He whispered in a hushed tone to Chenle.
"No, I want to watch you ask her out." He whined to Jeno.
"Just apologise and leave. I promise I'll ask her out." Jeno lightly scolded Chenle like was a child.
"Fine, I will leave but I will not apologise for simply existing." He snagged his sunglasses on and sashayed out the door.
"Sorry about the disturbance," Jeno flashed a sheepish smile at her, only for her to return a tight smile before she went back to the counter.
Jeno sat back down again and waited for everyone's to focus on their own thing. He glanced at you and noticed that your friend had gotten up and left the place, leaving you all by yourself. He watched the way your features tightened when you read a specific part of a book and your slightly frown on your on the corner of your lips. That's when it hit him! You were the girl he pucked! He had visited you a couple of times in the hospital while you were still unconscious, you looked frail and grey on your bedside, he even met your parents who were understanding of the whole situation. Despite that, the guilt never faded and he wanted to see you and apologise in person once he heard that you woke up, but your parents informed him that you were focusing on recovering and didn't want to relive the moment - scared that it might trigger you. So, he left you alone. It was like fate had brought you back to him and not some stupid bet.
Jeno got up from his seat and went to you. "Hey, you're yn right?" he whispered softly but it caught your attention as you looked up at him.
You froze. Lee Jeno coming up to you was not a daily occurrence (more of a never occurrence). You took a quick glanced at his attire: team hoodie and black cargo pants. He has practice today. Maybe it was the combination of you noticing anything Jeno related and him being a creature of habit that you instantly knew what he was up to based on his outfit. If he wore his team hoodie with cargo pants or track pants, he had practice and if he wore a simple shirt or his leather jacket, it meant that he didn't have practice that day. "Hi," your confused tone didn't go unnoticed by him.
"You're the girl I accidentally pucked, right? I'm really sorry." He apologised sheepishly. "I'm Jeno by the way," he introduced himself to you like he wasn't one of the most well-known guys on campus and extended his hand to shake with yours.
You muffled a chuckle at his cute behaviour and shook his hand. "Yeah, I heard from my parents that you dropped by often."
"I've been meaning to get in touch with you but your parents said you were focusing on recovering." He shoved his hands in his black cargo pants as he talked. "How are you doing?"
"Well, had a raging concussion but now I'm better than ever. Even got a break thanks to you." You cracked a light joke and he chuckled in return.
"Can I treat you to a meal? As reparation for pucking you." He asked you.
"Right now?"
"If you're free. Or, any other time is fine too, just let me know."
Your heart raced at the thought of being on a one-on-one date with Jeno, even though he didn't say it was a date but whatever. Years of admiring and creeping him from afar, and sure, you've imagined countless of ways how your meet cute would be but this took a surprising turn, "now is fine," you replied.
It was a family-style restaurant with dim-lights, warm ambiance, and cozy food. It wasn't too far from campus and it was a place that you and Jeno frequented often with your respective friends. A heavy guilt settled in Jeno's chest as he watched you happily devour your food with a glint on your face. He has disappointed girls on more than one occasion, even angered them, but to his defence, he made it clear from the beginning what being with him entailed. However, using a girl for his own personal benefit, a stupid bet, was stooping too low for him. Especially a girl he accidentally concussed. With shaky hands he placed his utensils down on the table. "Listen," he braced himself, "I have something to confess."
You stopped eating midway and stared at him. Jeno had a cool exterior implanted on his face but there was a concerned look on his face that you couldn't decipher, yet, it made you anxious.
"I wasn't completely honest with you when I asked you out to dinner." He trailed off for a second before confessing, "this was a bet."
The corners of your lips frowned the slightest and the grip on your fork tightened. "I'm sorry?" You blinked a couple of times making sure your hearing wasn't impaired, "this dinner was a bet?"
"The dinner itself wasn't a bet, dating you for three months was the bet." He explained. "Bet or no bet, I wanted to treat you either way, sorry it had to be like this."
You nodded your head. "And you picked me because…?"
"It was random. Chenle dared me to ask out the person who orders an iced peach lemon tea and we have to date for three months." Jeno explained.
You snickered at the mention of Chenle, "wow, that is so Chenle."
"You know him?"
"Yeah, we're kinda like friends, I guess. He hangs out with my friends a lot."
"Mine too." You both chuckled at this while Jeno ran his hand through his soft hair. "Sorry fuck, it was shitty of me for using you like this, especially after I caused you a concussion."
"Yeah, you did." You nodded in agreement.
"I'll just pay and I won't disturb you ever again."
Jeno's honesty about the whole situation reminded you exactly why you fell for him even more. It was a couple years ago and you and a group of girls were simply having fun at a club, minding your own business, when a guy kept harassing some of the girls in your group for their phone number. He had a sleezy grin on his face and danced way too close to you guys and everytime you guys moved away, he moved even closer, following wherever you all went. You didn't even realise Jeno was also at the club with his friends, he went up to guy and practically scared the creepy dude away with his mere presence. Although he left with another girl that night, your heart fell even deeper for him. "What's the prize?" You asked as you took a bite of your food.
Jeno cocked his head to the side with a slight eyebrow raised, intrigued by your reaction. You were a stranger to him so he wasn't sure what to expect from you: hitting, kicking, or even throwing food at him."If I win, Chenle owes me 1000."
"Real money?" Your eyes widened at the amount for a stupid bet.
"Yes, direct transfer."
"And if you lose?" You followed up with a different question.
"He gets my motorbike." Jeno groaned at the thought of Chenle's grubby hands all over his bike.
"He doesn't even have a license!" You pointed out.
"That's exactly what I said!" Jeno remarked while a small corner of his lips lifted.
"So, are you going to lose your Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R to him now? "
His eyes glinted with amusement at you name-dropping his bike, "most likely," he replied, "probably going to get it scratched or lose it before he completely abandons it at his place forever."
"Or, you can like not give it to him." You suggested. "You are physically stronger than him."
He inhaled a hissed, "a deal is a deal, doll," and a real man, according to Jeno, always lives up to his promises no matter what and it wasn't your problem to deal with but his.
"Ah," a quiet silence stretched over between the two of you as only the cluttered sounds of utensils and faint chatter from other tables filled in the background. "What if you don't have to lose it?" You stared at him right in the eye.
Jeno furrowed his eyebrows at your question. "What do you mean?"
"We can make easy money." You explained to him,"we'll pretend to date for three months, split the money, and then break up." You explained. "And you get to keep your bike and Chenle doesn't have to any know about any of this." Maybe there was a side effect of the concussion. The most logical thing you should've done was throw water in his face and walk away but somehow you weren't angry with the revelation. Disappointed? Yes. Angry? No.
"I don't get into relationships." He commented on your plan.
"I said pretend to date but ok then," you shrugged off the thought of making easy money down the drain and resumed eating your food, might as well get some reparations from him. "You alright if I order dessert?" You asked for the waiter before he even replied to your dessert question - maybe extra food too but he didn't seem to notice since he was busy cutting up his meat. Your eyes gleamed when the waiter brought over the dessert, a decadent-looking chocolate cake, which swiftly came within minutes.
On the other side of the table, Jeno was mulling your offer in his head as you happily ate your dessert; you even offered to share the chocolate cake with him but he shook his head, letting you indulge the entire thing. The proposition you offered meant that he would still win the bet and keep his bike while you get a portion of the prize money too. The more he watched you beamed while eating, the more it seemed like a compelling offer. "Let's do it." He muttered.
"Do what?" The offer no longer swirled your head as you indulged in the sweet chocolate cake.
"What you said," he clarified, "pretend to date."
"Really? You just said you don't date." You scrutinised him.
"I don't date. Like what you said, we'll pretend to date for three months, go to parties and games together, but we'll secretly see whoever we want." He proposed the plan to you.
"Won't people out you as a cheater if you hook up with other people?" You questioned him as you ate the frosting off the chocolate cake.
"Don't worry, they're not from here." He reassured you.
"Ok, that all seems fine but I'm not going to your games. Ever." You hummed in deep thought as you finished up your chocolate cake. "And! I dump you, not the other way round."
Jeno nodded once. "Sure, I don't care about the who dumped whom stuff."
"And!" You piped up one more time. "You have to star in my film assignment."
"Ahh," his body shifted awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I can't act."
"Don't worry about it," you waved off a hand, "there's no script yet but I just need you for your body." A waiter came by with your takeaway and set it on the table but her innocent eyes were wide opened and left but not without giving you and Jeno a shaky stare.
"So, I'm a prop to you?" He playfully asked you.
"Ahhh," you faked winced and touched your previously injured forehead.
Jeno knew you were playing around but he couldn't help but felt a wave of guilt when you pointed to your forehead. "Ok," he let out a reluctant sighed, "I'll do it but I warned you about my acting skills."
You stopped pretending to be hurt and instantly released a satisfactory smile at him. You extended your hand towards Jeno, "deal," your right hand suspended in the air, waiting for Jeno to shake on it.
He hesitated for a second but held onto your right hand without shaking it. "Remember, please don't fall in love with me. People want more from me even though I told them from the beginning that I don't do relationships and I don't want to hurt you a second time." Jeno said in a hushed tone as he stared at you with a determined gaze.
You pulled an easy smile that hid your true feelings for him. "Don't worry, that flew out the window the moment your puck hit my head." You smoothly lied to Jeno, your heart twisted in agony but you kept a light expression on your face.
"What's it about, anyways?" He asked.
"I'm tinkering with the idea of murder."
He cocked his head to the side. "Huh, that's different. Never expected you to do something like this."
"Well, yeah, the assignment was to explore a dark theme like addiction or drugs, really it's up to us."
"Sounds cool."
"The Professor is going to submit all of our work to this local competition and the most critically acclaimed piece, but they will also take account the amount of views from the public, will win a sponsored trip!" You excitedly told him.
A small corner of Jeno's lips lifted upwards and his eyes twinkled in amusement. "So, you're using me for clout." He leaned in closer to you.
You involuntarily moved your head back. You touched your injured spot and let out a faux winced - again. "Ahh, my head," even dropped your head down to make it realistic.
Jeno chuckled at your antics. "Are we going to go with the murder storyline?" He asked. "Am I the murderer?"
"Yeah no, I thought about it and I like the idea of murdering you, not the other way round." The same waitress came by with the check and the card machine. The machine vibrated due to her shaky hands as Jeno tapped his card on it. "Excuse me, can I have extra paper napkins please?" You politely asked the waitress; you loved collecting little knick knacks from places you visited and paste all of them in a journal - a visual diary of the mundane things in your life.
When she came back with your paper napkins, she also gave Jeno an extra one which confused him because he didn't request for one. He opened it and laughed when he saw what had been written on it.
"What's so funny?" You asked him.
He slid the paper to you. Tap on the table twice if you need help. Your jaw dropped to the floor in disbelief while Jeno continued to laughed. You both got up from your seats and before he exited the door, he stopped by the waitress who gave him the paper napkin, "thanks for being concerned about me but I'm more than fine," and left a tip for her.
The notification sound from his phone reminded him that he was running late to meet you for the filming, so he stealthily left the bed without a noise. Goodbye. He glanced one last time at her slumber figure. It happened again, just when he thought everything was going well, she confessed how she wanted more from him: a label, a relationship. And just like that, it ended.
He biked his way to the location you shared since you wanted to film outside of campus. By the time he had arrived, you were already there waiting for him and waved at him. The day before yesterday, Jeno had received the script for the assignment that he could refer to; the film will focus on Jeno's character's daily life, a popular and well-liked guy, who one day receives an anonymous love letter. The letter seemed harmless at first but the more "Jeno" ignored it, the more he felt like someone was watching his every move until his paranoia is what kills him. Shivers. Literal chills went through his bones when he read your script. It was dark and twisted, presented in an everyday life situation, a twist within a twist.
It felt nostalgic seeing him with black hair because the last time time you saw him with black hair was when you went to his first ice hockey game. Then, he dyed his hair chestnut brown, blonde for a brief period, blue when you unfortunately got hit by the puck, red, and now black. Your heart fluttered a bit when he came closer. "I like your hair," you complimented him.
"Thanks, it's been awhile," he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Yeah, I know." Your words slipped.
Jeno quirked an eyebrow at your words. "How do you know it's been awhile?" He crossed his arm with an amuse smile on him. "You like me, huh?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy," you hissed sarcastically and patted him on the back awkwardly. Damn, he's so hard. His back muscles, ok!
Jeno bit back a smile and cleared his throat, "so, what are we going to do today?"
"We're going to be filming some scenes out of order but the main scene I want to film is you on a busy street, going to different places but you're constantly looking over your shoulders because you feel like someone is watching you but nothing is there and your paranoia is feasting inside you like a parasite," you explained the objective of today's shoot.
Jeno took a step back after you explained everything, "this is fictional, right?" His tone wavered with anxiety.
"I promise that no actors will be harmed in the making of this film." You placed your hand to your heart with a smile stitched on you.
Time flew by fast, filming one scene after another, and snack breaks in between, of course, until the sun had set. You stretched out your body since your body was aching from crouching down all day. "Thanks for today, Jeno, you did great," and gave him a thumbs up.
"As long as there's minimal talking." He cracked a joke and you lightly laughed at it.
At that moment, you received a text from your friends asking you when you were coming. Oh yeah! You were supposed to meet them at the food festival on campus tonight. "I gotta go back now, my friends are waiting for me." You told Jeno.
"Alright," he shuffled his feet against the asphalt road, "how are you going back by the way?"
"I'll take the bus if there's time or take the cab if I'm in a pinch." You zipped up the camera in its bag and double checked just to make sure everything was in there.
"Or, I can drop you off." Jeno offered.
"You came here with your bike, right?"
"Yeah, and it's faster if we go back with it," he gestured to his monstrous vehicle and buckled in his helmet.
Pre-injured you would've immediately hopped on without a second thought because no way were you going to turn down a fun ride on a cool motorbike. However, post-injured you discovered how difficult it was to recover from an injury and motorbikes were notorious for it. "I'm not getting on that gigantic thing without a helmet," you remarked.
"Oh, wait." Jeno took out a spare helmet beneath the seat of the bike and placed it on your head. "Ah, this is not going to work," he knocked the side of the helmet and it wobbled over your head, "it's too big."
You removed the helmet off your head, "it's fine, I'll take a cab."
"Nonsense," he took the helmet back and laid it back in its place and then started measured the circumference of your head with his fingers. "I'll get crucified if people found out you went back yourself at night when I'm right here, you know, now that we're fake dating."
"Uhhh, what are you doing?" A bit confused with his random action.
"Measuring the circumference of your head." Once he measured your head, he noted it down on his phone, "wait here," and left with his bike but came back within ten minutes.
"That was fast," you were surprised at the speed he left and came back.
"Yeah, the shop's nearby." He took out another, smaller helmet this time that was identical to his. It was black and, this time, it fitted your head perfectly; he knocked his knuckles on the side of the helmet and smiled. "Perfect, now your head's protected."
You wobbled your head side to side and the helmet stayed perfectly intact. "Thanks!"
"Oh, shit." He realised, "I should've asked you what colour you wanted instead of buying black like mine."
You laughed at him. "It's ok, it's cute. It could be our couple's item." You reassured him.
Jeno's heart skipped a beat at your statement. "Ok, let's go," he gave you a handsome smile. He straddled in the front and patted the backseat for you. "Sit here."
You took a deep breath and position yourself behind him on the edge of the seat, with a respectable distance from him and placed your hands on his shoulders. "Ok, I'm ready!"
"It's safer if you hold onto me." He remarked.
"I'm good." You patted his shoulders. "Let's go!"
He cranked his head to the side, "suit yourself then." Jeno hit the pedal harder than he normally does so the bike jerked, and you ended up slipping forward right behind him - your chest pressed against his wide back. "You good?" He asked.
"Yeah," you held onto the sides of his jacket with a steady hold. "Ride safely."
At first, Jeno rode the bike at a slow pace, for him but not for you, he eventually got onto the highway as a shortcut to go back to campus, and that was when you wrapped your hands around Jeno's waist and felt his hard abs even beneath all the layers of clothing. He drove faster than usual and a sly, victorious smirk appeared when he felt you hugging him tighter.
People knew when Jeno was around because his bike was loud and people naturally looked at him. So, imagine the surprise on everyone's face when they realised, a girl, was getting off Jeno's motorbike - a never seen before phenomenon.
"What-" Ryujin watched you get off Jeno's motorbike at a food festival on campus ground.
"The-" Yeji's eyes widened and her jaw dropped when she realised it was you with Lee Jeno.
"Fuck." Haechan muttered with his mouth full of corndog.
All three of them froze when Jeno took off your helmet first before he did his. "Hey guys! How's the food so far?" You cheerily greeted Ryujin and Yeji like nothing unusual was happening.
"What the fuck is happening here?" Haechan spoke clearly now that his corndog was all chewed up.
You tilted your head at Haechan with a nonchalant expression, "what?"
"This!" Ryujin made weird gestures with her that was directed at you and Jeno.
"Is this why you were late?" Yeji side-eyed Jeno.
"Yeah, he was helping me film."
"Oh," Haechan smirked, "what kind of filming?"
"It's for an assignment." Jeno rolled his eyes at Haechan's obvious sexual innuendo.
"That's how most of my favourite videos start of," Haechan suggestively commented, which pissed Jeno off because the nature of your relationship was far from that, in a quick swift, Jeno headlocked Haechan with his arm until Haechan tapped out and apologised. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jeno released him while Haechan coughed out a choked, gasping for air.
"Is that it?" Ryujin asked you.
You glanced at Jeno before you answered her question, "he's also my boyfriend," and wrapped your hand around his bicep.
"What!" All three of them yelled out at the same time in a disastrous panic full of questions and rage.
"You didn't tell us anything!" Ryujin and Yeji whined and kept on asking questions.
Haechan reacted the same way, "but you don't do relationships, what the fuck!" He pointed out to Jeno. "Is this some sort of dare? If yes, where do I sign up? This shit would be easy money to make."
You and Jeno gave each other a knowing look, and didn't even get a chance to respond to any of the questions because another friend of yours, Wonjin, came back with some fried food and some of Jeno's other friends from the hockey team showed up - unaware of the commotion you both caused.
"Hey, what's happening?" Wonjin asked as he took a bite of his langos.
"They're dating," Yeji replied.
"You guys are dating?! Sungchan piped up instead of Wonjin.
"Since when?" Serim asked with eyes that popped out his socket.
"Dude, are you being for real?" Mark asked while everyone else huddled up even closer to you both, waiting patiently for his answer.
"Yes," Jeno replied in a simple tone.
"I don't trust you, Lee Jeno." Wonjin shook his head as he pointed his finger at him.
"Make her cry and I'll cut your balls off." Ryujin threatened with neck slice motion.
"But you ghost girls after they confess their feelings to you!" Serim pointed out in agony.
"The concussion got to her." Yeji commented while she fawned all over you. "You hypnotized her when she was in a coma."
"No, I don't trust any of this." Sungchan crossed his arms.
"It's super, super, sus." Mark repeated in disbelief. "Like, super sus. Super."
Small beads of sweat clamped up in the palm of Jeno's hands when one of them asked how and when they started dating. It hadn't been that long since your first "date" and you had never discussed your backstory. Jeno glanced down at you and interlocked his hands with yours. "It's real, we went out on a date." The tone of his voice was not convincing anyone, including you.
"Yeah, it's all still very new but we are dating." You added on. "We started texting each other after I recovered and then he asked me out on a date and here we are."
A collective sound of ah's and ooh's chorused within the group, even Jeno was impressed with your quick coverup.
"Why didn't you tell us earlier that you were talking to him?" Wonjin asked you.
"Because it was nothing, and all of a sudden it was something." You shrugged.
"You owe us a detail story later ," Ryujin remarked, "and my threat still remains!" She pointed her fingers at him.
"Can we go eat now or what? I'm over this." Haechan complained and everyone agreed to it.
"We're going to steal her for now," Yeji hooked her arm with yours and pulled you away from Jeno, "you will always be second priority, Lee Jeno."
You flashed a mischious grin when a bright idea popped in your head, "Jeno, is it ok if I order fries?" You asked him in a sweet voice.
"Is it ok if you order fries?" Yeji repeated after you and gave a menacing stare to Jeno.
"Shit," Haechan raised his hand, "I didn't know you were controlling like that."
"We don't fuck with him like that." Sungchan made an "X" sign with his arms.
"What a control freak," Serim commented.
Sweats ran down the sides of his temples and his hands became even clammier over this random accusation. "I'm not! You can have all the fries you want!" Jeno uttered out in a panic.
"Wow, so now you don't care about her sodium intake." Wonjin sighed.
"She just recovered from a head injury which you caused. What sick kind of behaviour is this?" Haechan remarked.
"You don't care for her fucking health!" Mark cried out.
Their scolding and angry voices drowned out of Jeno's ears when he caught your eyes staring at him and watched how you were failing miserably trying to hold back a laughter. Oh, you were trouble.
Rumours floated around on campus that the Lee Jeno, who was infamous for rejecting relationship advances, happened to be in one. People had seen you and Jeno walk around on campus or on "dates" but everyone brushed it off thinking it wasn't real or it was temporary. Especially since you had never shown up to any of his games - classic 101 girlfriend support.
So imagine the surprised or shocked looks on everyone's faces when you walked into the party with Jeno's hand on your back, guiding you through the crowded house, the ice hockey team's house - cementing the fact that you were in fact dating. Some even gave you nods of approval or dapped you up for locking the Jeno Lee down. Being with a popular person like Jeno meant that people would often come up to him just to say hi or make small talk and he never ignored any of them; being his girlfriend meant that you also received a similar treatment.
"There's the man of the hour!" Someone shouted as Jeno and you entered a room in the house that was slightly secluded from the loud music where everybody danced.
"My man makes history shooting the last shot in the last second!" Another one hollered.
"Pew, pew, pew." Some other guy threw Jeno a bro fist.
"Yo! Come join our game." Mark yelled out. There were a quite a few people gathered in a circle including: Haechan, Serim, Mark, Chenle, and Sungchan.
You took a seat first on the floor next to Chaeryeong and Jeno followed suit but Haechan called him out on it. "No couples next to each other!" and pointed him to a different seat beside Sungchan.
Chenle didn't missed the way Jeno frowned when he had to changed seats. "We're going to play Spin the Bottle, and instead of Truth or Dare which has been done to death, it's the Whisper Game." Chenle explained.
"The Whisper Game?" You whispered to Chaeryeong.
"Yup, it's just like Spin the Bottle and whoever the bottle points to, the person can whisper their question and your answer has to be someone within the circle." Chaeryeong explained. "If other people want to know what the question was, they have to take a shot."
"No boring questions or you're out of the game!" Haechan reminded everyone. "Let's gets drunk!" Everyone cheered and Serim spun the bottle first. It started off with easy questions and then it became more intense with secrets revealed or silly pent up emotions from someone else; either way, some people asked you questions, you asked other people questions, and you drank to a lot of it.
It was Chenle's turn to spin the bottle and it landed on you. At this point, your eyes were hazy, barely holding it open, and your sentence slurred with each word. Chenle went up to you and whispered his question, "who has the biggest dick?" Without hesitation, you pointed to Jeno.
"I'm drinking!" Sungchan took a shot,
"Me too!" Chaeryeong shouted.
Soon, the entire circle, including Jeno, had taken a shot so Chenle had to reveal the question. "The question was who has the biggest dick?"
"His 9-inch-dick!" You yelled out loud with a proud smile on your face but you were barely holding yourself together because your mind was so inebriated. "It's so huge and pretty…like," you widened the gap between your hands till it was around nine inches long and giggled to yourself, "this big."
Everyone laughed, hooted, or hollered at this and Jeno's ears were undeniably pink from all the attention. He watched how your head fell over Chaeryeong's shoulder and decided it was time to call it quits for the night. He got up from his seat and crouched down beside you who was still leaning on Chaeryeong's shoulder. "Do you wanna go now?" He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and spoke only loud enough for you to hear. The only response he got from you was a low hummed followed by an indecipherable sentence and took it as a cue to end the night.
"We're calling it in, thanks guys." He wrapped one hand behind your back and the other below your knees and lifted you off the ground.
"Boooooooo!" Haechan and everyone else chorused when Jeno carried
Jeno made his way upstairs to his bedroom and laid you down carefully on his bed. He had planned to pull over the blanket on you but you started muttering utter nonsense.
"Jeno," you whined drunkenly and touched his dick over his jeans. "Let me have it, please," and palmed over him.
"W-what?" He was flustered at your sudden behaviour and dropped the blanket down.
With clumsy hands but a desperate attitude, you unbuckled his belt with such ease for who a person who was not sober. "Just once, please." You pleaded while Jeno held your wrist together.
"N-no." He stuttered and held you down with zero strength from him.
"Please," you cried as you rubbed your face against his cloth dick that was slowly growing hard under your touch.
"No." He had to be more firm with you. You presented yourself with puppy-dog eyes which pulled a tug in Jeno's heart but he still shook his head.
"Fine," you frowned with your head down and he withdrew his hand from your wrist, relief that the worst was over. Or so he thought. Once your wrist was free from his restraint, you pulled down his jeans and boxer at the same time and his cock stuck out halfway because he stopped you once again. You cried at his restrained, "no fun," you pouted against his dick.
Jeno groaned as he tilted his head back; his first instinct was to grind against your face but resisted the urge because of you were clearly not sober. His cock grew harder, and you whining against it, wasn't making it easier for him. "No." He grunted and pulled you off him. The boxer and jeans was immediately pulled back up again but he hissed as his raging cock came in contact with the rough denim. You were still whining and crying at the lost warm contact of Jeno's touch and in desperate need, you pulled down your tube top and kneaded it. "Please, Jeno."
Fuck, you had the most perfect pair of tits he had ever seen in his life. Saliva drooled out just a little before he felt the insane guilt for watching you like this when you were drunk. His boner was now rock hard but he turned around and closed his eyes. He grabbed a hoodie of his and with his eyes closed, headed towards to put it on you but not without you putting up a fight.
"Don't want it, Jenoneno," you whined but Jeno won when the hoodie went through your head, he sighed a huge breath of relief; this was for your own good and his. He tucked you in like a burrito so you couldn't escape, it was for both of your own good.
You pouted at him. " 'jus wanted," you yawned mid sentence and your eyes fluttered closed, "your big dick." You were fast asleep.
Jeno eyes glinted with amusement as he silently chuckled. He tucked in a lock of hair that strayed to the front and with a gentle touch, softly grazed against the injured spot - a very small scar was visible. "Next time," he whispered.
There was a raging headache that pulsed through your head when you opened your eyes to a blurry vision. Your head throbbed from the pain but you let it passed until your vision unblurred itself to your surrounding; there was a computer on the desk at the end of the bed, a black helmet on the side table, and random equipments here and there.
A muffled grunt came out from beneath the blanket on the other bed across from yours. A familiar mop of black hair peeked out from it but the rest of the face was still covered with the blanket. You couldn't be bothered to figure out who it was this early in the morning and focused on the sweat that had uncomfortably accumulated on your body when you realised you were wearing a hoodie that was not yours. "Whose hoodie am I wearing?" You muttered to yourself as you tried to remember events before the game but only a dark and blank image came up.
"It's my hoodie," Jeno responded in a raspy voice and lazily pulled down the blanket to reveal his face.
"Jeno?" You asked, "where am I?"
"My room." He replied while sitting up straight on the bed, "and Sungchan's but I have no idea where he is." He looked at you for the first time and chuckled to himself.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "why are you laughing?"
"Nothing." He denied with a faint smile.
"Listen, did I," you took a deep breath, "do anything weird last night? I seriously don't remember anything after we started playing."
He paused for a second and then answered. "Nope, you just passed out." His eyes glinted with a playful look. "Except, you did call me Jenoneno."
Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth in a gasped. That was your personal nickname for him! Your inner thoughts slipped out while you were drunk! "And that's it right?" You laughed nervously, waiting for his response.
"Yeah, that's it." He nodded at you and you let out a breath of relieved. "Do you want water by the way?"
"Yeah, that sounds nice."
Jeno got up from the bed, still in the same outfit as last night's and searched for an unopened water bottle but only found empty cans of energy drinks that he should've thrown out a couple days ago. "Sorry, there's none here. Be right back," he stopped just as he was about to exit the room, "oh, the bathroom's here if you wanna use it, and don't worry, it's clean," he exited out the room and closed the door.
You stretched out your limbs one more time over the bed before you made your way to the bathroom. Jenoneno. Jenoneno. Jenoneno. It echoed in your mind a million times while you washed your face with water over the sink. The realisation hit you as you turned off the tap, all the memories flooded back to you: you against his dick, pulling his pants down, and flashing your boobs at him. No wonder he put a hoodie on you. He was saving you from embarrassment! You could literally die from embarrassment right there and then. Gosh, you didn't even liked drinking but the atmosphere got you too carried away.
You came out of the bathroom and thought about escaping through the window but Jeno came back with a water bottle and a singular banana in his hand. Darn it! Plan down the drain.
"Do you want to go out for breakfast?" He handed the items to you. "I would've made you something but the kitchen's a mess."
"Thanks," you muttered as you accepted it. "And no, I just want to go back to my room."
"Ok, I'll drop you off." He grabbed his keys and helmet off the table and headed out the door but you stopped him.
"N-no. I can go back by myself." You stuttered.
"Are you sure?" He cocked his head, "it's not a problem for me. I have to go out either way."
"Ye-yeah, I wanna walk by myself, you know, enjoy nature and all." You explained to him with a nervous tone underneath your voice.
"O-kay," personally, he would've preferred to go with you, especially since you didn't seem like you were in peaked condition but he respected your wish at the end of the day. "I'll see you off at the door, then."
"No!" The tone of your voice accidentally went an octave higher. "You stay here, I'll go." You handed back the banana and water bottle to him.
Jeno pinched his eyebrows together at your actions. "Umm, I'll just see you at the do-"
"No. Please stay." He looked like a confused dog with the way you were talking to him. He wasn't offended or anything - simply confused. You stepped forward and so did Jeno but you really couldn't face him right now. "Stay." You stopped him from following you. "Please."
"The do-"
"Stay." You walked backwards as you made sure Jeno was planted in the same spot. "Good boy." And with that, you ran out the house the moment you exited the door while Jeno watched you from the window.
"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked as he walked alongside you to the next location for the video - the campus garden. Even though he often felt awkward in front of the camera, your presence behind the camera and your constant encouragement gave him confidence and comfort to "act" in front of the lens. However, you were acting so differently today, almost as if you were avoiding him.
"I'm not." Your speed fastened up a bit when you felt his presence close to you. You absolutely were avoiding him. It took you a great strength of courage and screaming into your pillows before you dragged yourself to meet Jeno. "Ok, lighting seems good here." You played around with the camera and looked through the camera's viewfinder instead of him.
"You're still doing it." He teased you, seeing right through your facade. "Is this about yesterday?" He asked you.
"N-no. Ok, so now we're going to do the scene where yo-"
"yn," he pleaded in a serious tone that you've never heard before and gazed you with a sincere look in his eyes.
You smacked your dry lips and lowered down the camera, timidly nodded with an apologetic look on your face. "I'm sorry for harassing you like that. I don't know what I was thinking." You finally gained the courage to look at him in the eye.
He let out a hearty laughed and slung an arm around your shoulder, "it's fine, we all do stupid shit when we're drunk." He lifted your chin with a touch of his thumb when he noticed how quiet and sullen your face looked. "There was also a time when I got so drunk that I stole a kitten from its mommy and the next day she showed up and scratched me up real bad." He showed you the a small scar on his arm that was still visible.
"That's a cute story not an embarrassing one." Your lips jutted out just a bit.
He unslunged his arm from your shoulder and took your hands in his, tracing soft patterns on it. "There was a time we got so drunk that we trespassed a property to skinny dip in someone's house while they were having dinner."
"What?! Did they call the police or what?" You gasped in shocked at this revelation.
"Yeah they called the police on us," he laughed, "but jokes on them cause the police squad that they dispatched, coincidentally, ended up being my brother."
You snickered at his story, "that's a funny story, not an embarrassing one," and playfully rolled your eyes at him.
He hissed in a breath and held your hands even tighter in his, "we promised to take this to our graves but there was a time I was so shit drunk that I peed on Haechan."
"What?!" You screeched and scowled and moved his hands away from yours face "Ewwww, don't touch me."
"That was a long time ago!" He pointed out and tried to reach for your hands but you swatted him away.
"Don't touch me," you avoided his touch but he kept trying to grab it just to annoy you because of a grin on his face, so you ran away far away from him.
Jeno merely jogged behind you, "come back here. That's why I stopped drinking heavily!"
"Stay away from me." Although you tried to run as fast as possible, your speed was no match compared to Jeno's, a literal athlete, because he effortlessly caught up to you and tackled you on the ground within seconds. "No, no, disgusting, ew." You cried as he pinned you down on the dry grass.
"Shh, don't say that," his eyes widened and he placed a hand over your mouth, "people are going to get the wrong idea," and removed his hand from your lips. You realised that you were both in a compromising position since he hovered above you with knees straddled on either side of your body and his face was inches away from yours; his pupils dilated when you drowned in his eyes, you followed the movement of his gaze where it dropped down to your lips and back again to your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.
There was another secret that you had kept to yourself; there were days when your feelings for Jeno is so intense and the only way to let them out of their bubble was to write them down in your Jeno journal. It was a small, black notebook that fits into the palm of your hands, very safe and unassuming to an outsider's eye. You bring that little notebook everywhere with you, though there was a possibility of you losing it somewhere one day, at least you didn't write down his address and have someone mail it to him, that would be embarrassing. He was the only crush of yours that made it into your book.
Today was one of those days. You had just finished your violin practice with your club, which always left your neck strained and sore and even a little hickey on your neck from the long practice. You and Jeno had met up with your friends who were still skeptical of Jeno's intention with you so they grilled him to the bones but he answered everything with such ease that you almost believed that everything was real. The little subtle way that he touches you and takes care of you made your heart race but the moment it was just the two of you, the fantasy disperses because he casually mentioned that he had to leave and meet up with someone. That was the reality of your arrangement.
Your fingers flew across the page, word by word, when a knock on the door interrupted your trope of writing. You got up from the chair, thinking it was Ryujin who forgot to bring her key again but it was Jeno who stood at your door. "Jeno? Hi." You couldn't hide the surprise in your voice. "What are you doing here?"
"You accidentally left your water bottle with me." He handed you the item.
"Oh," wow, no wonder you felt parched even after drinking your iced peach lemon tea the entire day, "thanks Jeno, I needed it."
Jeno stood still at the doorway, observing the state of your room which was a lot more spacious than the average dorm room: the big lights were switched off, only your fairy lights, small lamp, and candles lit up the room in a warm embrace, a mini plant whose leaves gravitated towards the ground and another bed across from yours. "You have a cozy room. Who's your roommate?" He pointed to the bed.
"Thanks! It's Ryujin's but she's out right now."
"On the first floor? Damn, that's hard to get." Jeno knew that if he wasn't part of the ice hockey team, it would be difficult to get a spacious room like yours, especially if it was on the first floor.
"Yeah, they offered it to me when I came back in exchange of, you know, the possibility of not suing them." You explained the situation to him.
He laughed. "That's a pretty good trade."
"Eh, probably should've sued." You shrugged casually.
He looked around some more and noticed your pinboard that he could see from where he stood. There were polaroid pictures of you with your friends and family over the years with little tickets that decorated the board and he even recognised some mutual friends on your board like Chenle. One particular poloroid picture that stood out to him amidst the sea of them was the ice arena that was practically his second home; there was Yeji, Ryujin, Wonjin, Taerae, Chenle, and some other people he didn't recognised, and you, smiling brightly at the camera. He could tell this was taken way before you had even gotten pucked based on Chenle's blonde hair. There was a hollow heart ache that settled in his chest and a question that drummed in his mind, why hasn't he seen you before? There were a couple of other pictures of you at the ice arena but he could not believe he had never met you till you were pucked. A silent want to belong there. "You've been to quite a few of my games," he chuckled as he pointed it out.
"Yeah," you noticed his eyes were also looking around at your desk, where you left your Jeno journal out in the open, so you stealthily snapped it shut. Whew. "Dragged by friends for the experience or what not." Truth be told, you had never minded being dragged to his games even though you pretended to be against it, saying it was boring or just not your thing. You liked watching Jeno play and part of the reason you took plenty of poloroid pictures at his games was because you wanted a picture with him. He was always there in the background even though it was hard to see because he was far away but you knew and that was all you needed. You've seen girls going up to Jeno asking for pictures and he was always so sweet and never said no, you even contemplated asking for one too but felt too embarrassed because you were with your friends and you knew they wouldn't live it down. Just then, your tummy grumbled loudly on cue.
He chuckled at the sound of it. "You hungry?"
"Yeah, just one of those days. I'm probably going to make ramen after this." Even though it was the least appetising food that sounded right now.
"You wanna go out?" He asked you out of nowhere.
"This late at night?"
"There's a diner-style restaurant that's open nearby," he said, "they have really good burgers and milkshakes."
"You had me at milkshakes," already slipping on your hoodie that hung on the back of your chair.
"That was the last thing I said." He pointed out.
There was a natural routine that fell into place now that you often ride his bike with him: he helps you with your helmet then he does his, and you jump to the back while he's at the front and tightly hug around his waist before he motors off.
It was a short ride to the 24/7, diner-style restaurant, 90's Love. You had no idea how you missed this place because it had bright neon lights right in front of it - sometimes you miss the things that are right in front of you. You ordered their signature combo burger with loaded fries and strawberry milkshake while Jeno got a double-double burger for that extra protein and a coke.
"The burger is so good," you moaned in contentment as you chewed down another bite of the juicy burger. "The milkshake too!" You took turns sipping the strawberry milkshake and taking a bite out of the burger, a perfect combination.
"And the loaded fries," he stuffed a couple of fries, that was in between the two of you since you sat side by side in the booth so you both decided to share, down his mouth.
"Ooh, haven't tried the fries yet," you took a couple and copied him, "oh, that's good," you beamed happily.
"Got a little sauce on you," he wiped the sauce on the corner of your lip with his bare thumb and sucked the remnants of it before he went back to his burger.
Your heart throbbed at his casual yet intimate display of contact, now incredibly conscious of how close you were together, he probably does it for other people too. "I don't know if it's true or not," you said in between your bites, "but I heard Prof Sooyoung and your coach were a thing back in the day."
Jeno swallowed his bite. "Oh, they were. I think Haechan said that…" the rest of the night was filled with gossips, anecdotes and small laughers shared between the two of you with you gasping and lightly hitting him on the arm
"The last fry," you picked up the singular fry and waved it like a trophy, "you should have the honour because you just introduced me to my new favourite place."
"Wow, this is such an honour," a light sarcastic remarked from Jeno.
"Here you go," you held it in front of him but he didn't take it from you.
He looked at the golden fry and then at you, "feed it to me," his signature eye smile twinkled.
You playfully rolled your eyes, but you let him take the bite from your hand and he did it without dropping his eye contact on you. There was a beat of silence in the thickened air - and it wasn't just the smell of grease - you cleared your throat, "I need to wash my hands," and got up to go to the bathroom. There were no tissues inside the bathroom so you left your hands wet, because let's be real, you would rather have wet hands than use the hand dryer, ew.
Jeno washed his hands in the bathroom but he just wiped them on his pants. He noticed your wet hands and got up from his seat, "be right back," he went up to the counter and grabbed a couple of tissues.
"Hey Jeno," a guy entered with a couple of his friends dapped Jeno up. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, just grabbing a late night meal with my girlfriend." Oh. The word was foreign to him but he didn't hate the way it came out of him. Jeno reciprocated the handshake, it took him a second but he recognised that the person as the guy who occasionally plays basketball with Chenle and he had asked Jeno to be his model for his portrait back then but Jeno turned it down because Chenle asked him first. "How about you, Keeho?"
"Yeah, fresh off the court," he imitated a whooshing sound and threw an invisible basketball in front of him, "yo, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Can you be in my film assignment?"
"Sorry Keeho, yn already asked first." Jeno apologised apathetically.
"Oh." Keeho glanced at you who was sitting at the booth by yourself, "ok."
"See you around Keeho," and Jeno left with a stack of tissues in his hands and went to you. Without a word, he took your damp hands and wiped them with gentle care. You sat there wordlessly but let Jeno do his thing. "All done," a faint smile spread on his lips.
"Tha-thank you, Jeno." A bit embarrassed and shy that Jeno did that for you despite the fact that you were more than capable of doing it. "I could've done it myself."
"Yeah, but I wanted to do it," he hummed.
At that moment, Keeho and some of the other guys walked by with a gigantic bowl of delicious ice cream. Your mouth salivated at the sweet assortments on it even though you already had your milkshake. "Do you want dessert?"
"Not really into sweets but we can if you want." Jeno replied.
"Oh," the corner of your lips frowned at his response. "No, I don't want it."
"Are you sure?" Jeno asked as he saw the visible changed in your mood.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go back." The sparkling night sky blanketed the deserted parking lot with only a couple of dimly lit streetlights that decorated the lot. Jeno's humongous yet sleek motorbike shone under one of the streetlight and curiosity got the better of you. "Can you teach me how to ride your motorbike?"
He hissed at your question, "this bike is not exactly beginner friendly."
"Oh, please!" You put your hands together and begged him but he still shook his head. Then, you grabbed his hands and swung it side to side. "Please, please, please?" You fluttered your eyes at him.
He gulped his throat at your insistence and his heart skipped a beat, almost persuaded by your swaying. "No, it could be dangerous."
"Please, the parking lot is empty," you begged some more.
"Still, the bike-" He laced your hands in his and circled patterns on it.
You frowned in disappointment and tried to let go of his hands but he held onto it. "Fine then, I guess getting hit in the head was good enough." You touched your head and winced out a fake pain.
He laughed, "how long are you going to milk this?"
"Till you teach me how to ride your bike."
"Fine then," he admitted defeat and you cheered, "you're lucky you're pretty," he whispered to himself. "But you have to listen to me, it's for your own good," he reminded you in a " I mean business" voice.
"Sir, yes sir," you saluted Jeno with an upright body.
He playfully rolled his eyes at you. "Ok, helmet first no matter." He put on the protective gear on you and tightened it up. "Now, we can start."
Without a second to spare, you huddled in the front while Jeno stood to the side and started the engine. "This is brake and this is the accelarator,"and showed the two different handles on either side of the bar. "Pull down on this clutch and place your foot on the shifter," he gently directed your limbs to where you needed to go. "Just give the accelerator a bit of a boost and lean in the direction you want to go, like riding a bike, got that?" He asked you.
"Got it." You gave him a thumbs up, nervous yet excited to drive the exotic vehicle.
"Be careful, ok?" He asked you once more before he let go.
"Ok, here I go." The motorbike moved at a snail's pace and the motorbike jerked when you gave it a boost but you kept on going like Jeno said, "ah!"
"You're good, just keep on going!" It was a freeing feeling to be one with the wind!
"Don't go too fast!" Jeno reminded as he watched you go in circles in the empty parking lot.
You felt more confident with the motorbike and boosted it faster around the empty parking lot. "This is so much fun!" You smiled happily when you felt the cold breeze against your face. "How do I stop?"
"Slow down and come to me." He guided you towards him and you followed his directions. Once you were near him, Jeno shifted the gears and switched off the engine for you. "How was it?"
"Exhilarating!" You commented with a bright beamed on your face. "Can I drive back?" There was a glow of excitement on your face. "I think I can handle this."
"Babe, you don't have a license and I'm not about to get in trouble for this." You frowned but Jeno gave in when he saw your sullen expression. "Fine, maybe when we're on campus and near the dorm, then you can drive." Jeno took over the front seat as you scooted to the back and hugged his waist in a tight embrace - you were his backpack.
There was a new profound appreciation now that you knew how challenging it was to ride a motorbike and how Jeno effortlessly slips inbetween cars and traffic. Just as Jeno promised, once your dorm building was within your viewshot, you took over while Jeno sat at the back. Your stomach flipped when Jeno pulled you into his embrace from the back. "First time in this position," he commented. You recalled his earlier lesson and drove back to your dorm, more confident and smoother than your first time.
"We're here princess." You joked and stopped the vehicle in front of your dorm building, Jeno switched off the engine from behind you and kicked the stand into place.
Jeno got off from the bike first and then lifted you off the motorbike with one hand. "Thank you for driving me home," he played along and his eyes twinkled as he took off the helmet for you, his fingers lingering a second too long on your hair.
There was something missing in all the videos you've shot; you compiled all the footages you've made so far and organised them in chronological order according to your script on your laptop. Your fingers tapped on the table as you watched the videos one more time. It was good so far but there was no umph element to capture the audience's interest. You groaned out loud in the empty dorm room by yourself.
It was a Friday night, meaning Jeno had another match tonight. Sungchan's girlfriend, Shuhua, had invited you to sit join and watch the game with them, only to be met with a disappointed yet understanding sighed when you said you were never going to any of his games ever again. Even your friends including Ryujin and Yeji went out to watch the game tonight. You checked the time and the tournament hadn't started yet so you called him on your phone and waited for him to pick up the call. Even though you've never been to any of his games ever since you two became a "couple," you fell into a natural routine of texting or calling him before he started his game to wish him luck.
The phone rang a couple of times, "hey," he spoke a little bit out of breath, presumably just finished warm up.
"Hey! Is the game starting soon?" Your tone naturally perked up brighter upon hearing his voice.
"Soon. Was just warming up." The rhythm of his tone went back to normal. "Why? Are you coming?" He asked in a hopeful tone.
"Hmm, no, I'm not coming. I have to review the footage we have so far." Your tone was slightly down.
What's wrong?" He noticed your sullen tone over the phone. "Do we need to reshoot anything? I can squeeze sometime next week." He offered without even you asking for it.
"No, the scenes are perfect." You exhaled an exhausted sigh. "But somethings missing, there's no hook to reel people in." You placed your head down sideways on your desk and laid your phone on your ear.
"Well, what are others doing for their hook?" Even though his voice was still audible, the chatter and hollering in the background grew louder.
"My friend's doing something with toxic love so she's hooking them in with a makeout session."
"Well, sex always sells." He absentmindedly commented.
You lifted your head off the desk and held your phone in your hand again as an idea popped in your head when Jeno said that. "Jeno, can I see you after the game?" You asked in the sweetest voice you could muster.
"Uhm, sure, I'll drop by after the ga-" He answered with a bit of uncertainty since you had never asked to see him right after the game.
"No, I'll come to you!" You quickly inserted. "Please don't change out of your uniform by the way."
"Don't change out of my uniform?" Jeno was puzzled with your request but it seemed simple and innocent enough.
"Yes! Good luck Jeno!" You wished him luck.
You couldn't tell but he had a smile on his face. "Thanks, see you after the game."
From your previous experiences of going to a hockey game, you knew how long a game took and how much longer for the audience to dispersed from the arena, so you timed it perfectly that by the time you arrived at the arena, you only saw Jeno who lazily drifted the puck with his stick by himself.
"Is it safe for me to come in?" You barely raised your voice but the empty arena echoed your question.
All you heard was a hearty laughter from him, "yeah, come on in, babe." The casual mentioned of the pet name when no one was around made butterflies swirled around in your tummy. Oh, this was so going in the diary. You descended down the metal stairs of the arena until you reached Jeno who was still in his stakes on the ice rink. The stick and puck were safely tucked away, only him and the goal post were on the frozen ground.
"Hi! How was the game?" You greeted him from the dry area.
"It was good, we won." He greeted you with his signature eye smile, "also hi." He took your hand with his gloved one and carefully held onto it. You were face to face with each other and could see his drenched, flat hair and sweat that dripped on his temples; a complete contrast to your sweat-free appearance. A comfortable stretched over the atmosphere but you grew shyer when you felt Jeno's never ending intense gaze on you.
"Is the locker room empty by the way?" You asked to direct your shyness somewhere else.
"The locker room?" Jeno tilted his head to the side because he was still unsure of your plans.
"Yeah, I wanna film in the locker room."
"Oh, ok, sure, the boys are changing though." He replied without wavering his eye contact on you. "Give it a couple of minutes, they'll leave. Do you want to skate while we wait?" He asked with a hint of excitement in his tone.
"Sure, but it's been so long since I last skated." You nodded your head at him.
He chuckled as he got off from the icy floor to the dry, may area with his skates on and grabbed an extra pair of skates from behind one of the chairs. Then, he walked back to you and guided you to the chair. Even though he was still padded up with all his gear, with much difficulty, he bent down on one knee and laced up the pair of ice skates on you. "All done," he beamed up at you with an eye smile on his face.
You held onto Jeno's hand while you cautiously stepped on the frozen ground. The sharpness of the blade slipped, which made you wobbled but you were holding onto Jeno so you didn't fall. Jeno took off his gloves and dumped it somewhere, he then grabbed your cold, soft hands with his warm ones and skated backwards. The skates on your feet glided with ease as he dragged you around the rink with two hands; your feet grew familiar with the rhythm of the skates and you eventually let go of Jeno's hands and glided on your own. "I'm doing it!" You cheered brightly and Jeno mirroed the same smile as he continued skating backwards.
"Show off," you teased him when he effortlessly skated in circles around you while you skated at a slow pace.
Jeno simply laughed and continued to prey around you. "Let's race," he whispered beside your ear which left a tingling sensation in your body.
"Wanna bet?" You confidently proposed.
"Loser buys winner a drink?" He suggested.
"Deal, give me a head start." You weren't going to back down from a race even though it was your first time skating in forever.
"Is ten seconds good enough?" He positioned himself beside you.
"More than enough to beat you." You replied with a cocky attitude and steadied yourself next to him.
"From this end to the goalpost," he pointed to the goalpost on the other side of the rink.
"Got it." The distance was doable enough for you and you had deluded yourself into thinking you might even win because Jeno was giving you a head start.
"Ready, set, go." His skates were planted to the ice whereas you instantly dashed off from your starting position.
"One," Jeno counted down the seconds till it was his turn to dash off.
"Two," shoot! You weren't even a quarter way from your initial position - your pace was slower than you intended.
"Three," you gradually gained traction and you were skating with the ice and not against it.
"Four," almost halfway there! You looked back and Jeno had a proud smile with his eyebrows raised at you.
"Five," halfway there! You were practically gliding and tried to keep up with the momentum.
"Six," the goalpost was now clearer in view.
"Seven," you attempted to slow down your skates but was too scared at the speed you were going. Should've learned how to stop first!
"Eight," your eyes widened when you saw just how close the the metal goalpost was and tried to stop the skates like you've seen the way players do it but failed to replicate it and your knees wobbled.
"Nin-shit," Jeno finally caught on that you were most likely going to crash into the metal goalpost at the speed you were going, and he wasn't going to let you injure yourself under his watch, not again, and zoomed towards you within milliseconds, snatched you by the waist and turned you around so his back was facing the goalpost and was able to stop just a few inches short from the goalpost. "Got you," he whispered as his chest heaved up and down, his eyes flickered to your lips then to your eyes and so did yours. Both of your heads tilted closer to each other, a breath's away from a kiss, when the locker room door banged loudly against the empty arena.
"Oh! Someone's girlfriend is here!" Mark hollered when he spotted the two of you on the rink. You jolted away from Jeno's touch as more of his teammates exited the locker room.
"Awww!" Serim gushed at the sight of you two looking all lovey dovey. "What a cute couple!"
"He's so whipped!" Sungchan yelled.
"He was crying because she wasn't here!" Haechan evilly cackled.
You took a step back from Jeno as heat crawled up the back of your neck from embarrassment, while Jeno's ears turned red from the watchful eyes of his teammates.
"Don't get nasty guys! We all use the locker room." Haechan chortled followed by a chorus of boisterous laughter.
Jeno noticed a discomforted expression on your face and yelled back at them, "shut up." The guys only cackled like evil witches and even stuck out their tongue at Jeno before they hurriedly exited out the premise. They knew that Jeno knew that they were only brave enough to tease him like that because he couldn't physically get to them.
"Sorry about them, they're just weird like that," Jeno apologised sheepishly. "On the bright side, the locker room's free now." He remarked now that the whole arena was quiet again.
The embarrassment and shyness slowly faded away and was replaced with a playful glint in your eyes once you saw how close you were to the goalpost. "Ok," you replied and pretended to head to the exit but instead dashed for the goalpost. "I won!" You cheered happily and waved your hands in the air. "You have to buy me a drink!"
"You cheated!" Jeno's jaw dropped in disbelief but his eyes gleamed at your attitude.
"You're just jealous because I beat the star player at his own game," you patted his back in a pitiful way and glided away to the exit, leaving him by himself.
Jeno scoffed and poked his tongue out against his cheek before he quickly caught up to at the exit. Once again, he held your hands as he guided you to the chair and untied your skates first before he did his - the butterflies made an appearance in your stomach all over again over this simple action. Afterwards, Jeno brought you to the locker room when the mustiness and putrid scent of fresh sweat assaulted your nose. "Ugh," you pinched your nose. "Men smell."
"You get used to it." Jeno snickered in amusement. "So, what are we doing here?"
Right! Filming! "We're going to film the hook scene here in the locker room." You switched on the camera and played around with the angles and lighting to get the perfect view.
"Of…?" He trailed off as he stood there waiting for further instructions.
You cleared your throat for a second and answered in a soft voice, a contrast to your cocky attitude earlier. "Of you taking off your clothes," you pretended to fiddle around with the buttons and angles of the camera and refused to look him in the eyes.
Jeno offered a mischievous grin, "doll, you know you could've just asked me for a picture and I would've given it to you." you were avoiding his eye contact but his eyes followed your gaze everywhere you went. Cute. "You don't have to pretend it's for the assignment."
"It is for the assignment!" You insisted and met his gaze head on. "I need something to lure in the audience."
"Hmm," he hummed while he stroked his chin with a permanent smirk stiched on his face, "or you just wanted a topless video of me." He suggested in a raspy tone.
You shook your head at him, "it's for the assignment, it's the same thing you did for Chenle for his anatomical portrait."
Jeno's eyes scrutinised you with suspicions,"how do you know about the portrait?" The portrait assignment was a few semesters back for an elective class of Chenle's and he begged on his knees for Jeno to be his model, and Jeno agreed if it was only seen by the professor.
"He showed it to everyone." Chenle didn't show it to everyone, he accidentally left his sketchbook opened and you saw the page with Jeno's portrait on it, and maybe you snapped one or two pictures of it. Maybe.
"Wow, I need to have a word with him." He frowned slightly at the information given.
Oh crap! Did you just get Chenle in trouble? "He was just proud of it, no need to hound him about it," you awkwardly laughed. "Now, let's get started. All you need to do is take off your gear like normal, like I'm not even here," you explained the hook scene to him.
"How can I not notice a pretty girl with a camera pointing right at me?" He muttered too low for you to hear, but prepped himself in front of the locker while you started recording. The easy part was shedding of his jersey first, then protective gears off his shoulders and knee pads, until he was left with a tight compression shirt that hugged him deliciously and made his pecs stand out even more. From there on, you moved the camera closer to him and waited for him to rip off, take off, the shirt. Jeno made a show of tilting his head back as he took off his shirt, revealing the ridged abs that glistened under the fluorescent light. You took the time to film his body from his pecs all the way down to his faint happy trail. For the assignment.
"All done." You stopped filming since you were more than satisfied with the footage you had recorded. "Thanks Jeno! I'll wait outside while you get ready."
"Wait!" He caught your wrist before you could leave the locker room, "I know you said you won't ever go to my games ever again and I get it," he let go of your wrist and opened his locker to take a fresh and clean hockey jersey with the number "23" on it - Jeno's jersey. "If you ever change your mind one day, this is for you."
Ever since that day, something had shifted. Texts between you and Jeno usually consisted of "hi, are you free to film?" and a variation of "yes" or "no." Now? Jeno took the liberty to text you random questions about your day and when you asked him about his? He sent pictures to you: pictures of his food, pictures of him in class, pictures of him at practice, pictures of him shirtless at the gym, and pictures of him shirtless in bed. It left you flabbergasted when his texts became increasingly revealing and slightly more on the flirtier side but not once did he mentioned those shirtless pictures of him in bed whenever you two met up; he never acted differently towards you and kept it light and breezy.
"Where's your girlfriend?" Chenle mocked Jeno while he's sprawled all over Jeno's bed, scrolling on his phone.
Meanwhile, Jeno laid on the floor with his arm behind his head, scrolling through pictures of you when a text from a girl he had been seeing popped up, im so stress rn. "Working on her assignment," he replied in a bored tone.
"Yo, when's your movie done? Can't wait to watch it with the boys." Haechan spun around in Jeno's computer chair.
Jeno closed his eyes for a second before replying to Haechan. "It's not a movie, it's an assignment and we're still not done filming." Another text came in, come over n work out my knots. "I think she's working on editing some of the parts right now."
"Whatever, can't wait for it either way." Haechan geeked out.
u know where to find me
"I didn't know she edits." Chenle commented absentmindedly.
Otw rn, was the only response he gave and got up from the floor. He reached for his hoodie and leather jacket off his closet then grabbed his helmet and keys. "Ah, she said someone else is helping her with the editing part."
"Cool. Who?"
"I don't know. Later guys," Jeno opened the door in a hurry to step out but Chenle's question stopped him.
"Oh come on, if she's your girlfriend you must know who's helping her with the editing. That's boyfriend 101." Chenle remarked.
He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to remember the name, "some person named Bae something."
"Bae Jinyoung?" Chenle shrieked.
"Yeah, I think that's the one." Jeno replied with no thought with one foot out the door. "You know him?"
Chenle scoffed. "Do I know the person on campus with the sexiest thighs? Hell yeah, I do."
"And he always looks like he just basked in the sweet sun with that tan of his." Haechan whistled out loud.
Jeno slowly retreated his foot back from the door. "So you guys do know him?"
"Yeah, super good looking and super nice." Haechan remarked.
"It's quite late, but don't worry, you can trust that guy." Chenle commented. "Good thing she's dating you because I would be worried if she was single," he threw Jeno a cheesy wink.
"Yeah, he's got a certain charm, we should hang out more with him." Haechan commented.
Sungchan stepped into the room with his duffle bag. "'Sup guys, what's happening?" and dropped his huge bag without a thought.
"Bae Jinyoung." Chenle said.
"Great guy." Sungchan commented. "We paired up for an elective and he got me hooked with content creation. What about him?"
"Bae Jinyoung is helping Jeno's girl with her video." Haechan explained.
"She's in good hands then." He clicked his tongue. Jeno's stomach churned at the comments, he glanced down at the phone when his phone flashed a topless picture but now that was the furthest thing from his mind. What if you fell in love with Bae Jinyoung? So what? You were free to see other people if you wanted to and so was he but why did it hurt at the thought of you with someone else? Why does it…Jeno shook his head and stopped himself from that train of thought. You guys were friends and friends can check up and care about each other, right?
"Why do you look sad bro?" They all asked him as a sullen expression shadowed his face.
Jeno left the room without an explanation. He jumped on motorbike and let the vehicle lead him to you; he remembered you mentioning that you were going to be in the media room to work on the video. Listen, he has no idea where the hell the media room but no rooms will be left unopened.
Why was there more than one media room? The university was built like a maze and he thought he had hit the jackpot when he found the Media Room, apparently, the entire building was the Media Room? What the fuck?
Two bodies slouched over the screen together, analysing the same footage over and over again, turned their attention towards the door when it creaked opened to a sweaty Jeno. "Jeno?" You whispered, a bit concerned at Jeno's sudden appearance.
"You ok, dude?" Bae Jinyoung asked.
Despite the fact it was late at night, the Media Room was brightly lit under the fluorescent light, with soft music playing from someone else's computer since there were also other people working in the same area since anyone was welcomed to to use the facility. You and Jinyoung were huddled in front of a computer, side by side, with hands to yourself. It was obvious you guys had been doing this for awhile because some of your notebooks were scattered on the computer desk. For some strange reason, a wave of relief went through Jeno's body, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but the guys made it sound so bad that he had to come and check up on you. Just in case. He cleared his throat and offered a light smile, "yeah, I'm good."
"What are you doing here? It's late." You asked while he pulled up a chair and snugged it in between yours and Jinyoung's and manspreaded his legs.
"Craving a midnight snack," he asked, "you guys want anything? My treat." He took out his phone and scrolled through the food delivery app.
"Sure man," Jinyoung replied, "Jinyoung," he extended his hand to Jeno.
"Jeno," and they did their little brofist hand shake thingy that every men knows about despite meeting for the first time, "yn's boyfriend."
You cocked your head a bit at his odd behaviour but didn't say anything about it. "You could've just ordered from you dorm?"
"My room was invaded," Jeno responded with a simple answer and hung his arm over the back of your chair. He checked out the food after you and Jinyoung added your meals to the cart. "So, what do we have here?"
"In the middle of editing, let me show you." Jinyoung went on a passionate and detailed talk on the editing process and you chimed in with your thoughts here and there, while Jeno followed your discussion at first but later zoned out as he traced the several lines on your palm - from your wrist to your fingertips. His line of sight ended right on Jinyoung's thick and muscular thighs which was visible even under those denim jeans. Damn, he does have sexy thighs.
"Wait yn, what kind of effect did you want for this scene?" Jinyoung asked you.
"Sorry, wait, it's easier for me to show you, I have visual references in my notebook." You took out your notebook one by one, including your small diary, from your bag because the notebook you were looking was deep within the bag. "Here it is!" And you showed the visual references to Jinyoung.
A buzzing sound interrupted the discussion you guys were having, someone was calling Jinyoung. "Sorry, my girlfriend's calling, be right back." Jinyoung excused himself out of the room.
"Are you sure you're comfortable Jeno?" Your soft breath in Jeno's ear tingled him just a bit. "Theres a couch if you want to lie down." Within five minutes of you and Jinyoung working on the video, you noticed how Jeno tuned out of your conversation and played with your hands instead.
"I'm good." He pinched your cheek as he stroked your hands in his, which made you shy on the inside. "Food's almost here, be right back."
"Wait, let me go with you. I need a break either way," you got up from your seat and shoved your notebooks and other things that were on the computer desk in your bag and left the room with Jeno without realising that your small diary didn't make it to your bag, instead, it fell underneath a computer desk.
The worst part of being a woman was the period cramps. Well, aside from the fear of interacting with an unknown male individual and unknowingly triggering its fragile male ego and fearing for your life but that's neither here nor there. It was like a sharp knife stabbed you right in the tummy and twisted the insides till you died a thousand small deaths only for you to relive the experience it all over again. Hence, you and Ryujin laid on your bed as you ate chocolates and watched a classic romcom on the laptop, giggling and squealing at the cliche parts, while the heating pad on your belly eased your mind and body from the period cramp. All the small talks in between the giggling while you watched the movie almost made you miss the knock on your window.
"Did you hear that?" You asked Ryujin because you were sure you heard something knocked but you only heard the stretched of the indoor wind.
"Nope, I don't he-" Knock, knock. Your body shivered when you heard the knock from somewhere again. There it was again. Both you and Ryujin looked at each other but stayed completely still until a familiar voice spoke behind the window.
"Are you awake? It's me, Jeno." A voice spoke out behind the window. You slumped your shoulders and headed to the window to open it. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jeno with his black hoodie and a duffel bag that slung over his shoulders. It had been awhile since you last saw Jeno because you had gotten busy with other assignments and Jeno with practice and his away games over the weekends.
"What are you doing here this late at night?" You leaned closer to him.
Instead of responding with a "hi" or a "hello," Jeno cupped your face in the palm of his hands and kissed you on the lips. His lips were soft, although a bit dry, but it had that addicting taste which you couldn't get enough of. Was that your first kiss with him? You didn't realised how much you actually missed him because you chased his lips even deeper and was lost in his touch.
"Ahem-ahem," Ryujin loudly faked coughed to get both of your attention. She had never seen you like this with a guy.
Your lips separated from each other but Jeno gave you one last peck. "You taste like chocolate." He commented, his eyes drowned in yours.
"Just ate some," you bit your lips from the way he looked at you.
"Ahem-ahem," Ryujin faked coughed again while her arms were crossed as she tapped her foot against the floor. "Jeno."
"Ryujin." He finally acknowledged Ryujin's presence and gave her a slight nod.
"Ever heard of texting?" She rolled her eyes but was severely relieved that it was just Jeno and not some sort of psycho by the window. It was truly one of the disadvantages of staying on the ground floor of the building.
"Wanted to surprise her." He tucked a locked of your hair behind your ear and pinched your cheek which made heat crawled up your neck. "Wanna go for a ride? We can drop by the diner." He asked as he played with your hand.
You pouted. "Sorry Jeno, not tonight. I'm not feeling well."
Jeno's hand instinctively went to your forehead to feel your temperature. "Your body feels normal," he commented after a few seconds but his hand remained on your forehead.
You chuckled lightly, "it's my period cramps," you took his hand that was on your forehead and guided it to your lower abdomen.
"Does it still hurt?" Jeno pressed a bit of pressure on it as he massaged in a circular pattern.
A small moaned came out of you when you felt the pressure of Jeno's fingers on your lower abdomen. "Yeah, but I'll get over it." It sucked but it was routine at this point.
"Let me help you." He continued massaging you through the window.
You held his hand that was massaging you and stopped him, "you don't need to, I have heating pads for it."
"I want to," he pouted at you. It was hard to draw a line with him if he was being this nice. "Please," he begged and kissed your knuckles.
"I have to ask Ryujin first. We have this "No Boys" in the room policy." You subtly glanced at Ryujin.
Ryujin heard the entire thing and sighed. "Just stay but no funny business!" She warned Jeno and gave him a menacing side-eye. "You're lucky I have to finish up my assignment." She went to her study table across from yours, put on her headphones and dived into her laptop.
"Thanks," Jeno smiled at Ryujin's response and jumped in through the window, all while he held your hand. He took off his duffel bag from his shoulders and placed it down on the floor. "Movie night?" He commented when he saw the paused scene on the laptop screen on your bed.
"Yeah, makes me forget about the pain." You moved the laptop and sat on your bed; Jeno mirrored your action and sat beside you but pulled you on his lap and wrapped you in his arms. One hand was on your lower abdomen and massaged it like he did before. "What movie do you want to watch?" You pulled your laptop in your lap and scrolled through the categories.
"Any." He leaned back against your headboard and drew you in between his legs as he massaged you, while you picked a random movie to watch and let it play in the background. His fingers kneaded you right where you needed them and eased up your cramps. "How's this?" He whispered in the shell of your ear.
"Better," you hummed a contended sighed. "When did you get back?" Your back leaned even more to his chest.
"Just now." He continued to massage your lower abdomen with both hands.
You let out a confused sound and looked at him. "Aren't you tired? Heard the place was quite far."
There was a faint smile on his face, "slept on the bus." He kissed the side of your temple and muttered, "besides, I missed you."
With that simple action, your heart skipped a beat at the casualness of it all. Your once bitter feelings for him disappeared when he was around. The both of you stayed like that for awhile, tangled in each other's arms while you guys watched the movie. Although Jeno's massage did help you a bit, the pain was still present and persistent. Like you needed something heavy to squash it down. "Jeno, it still hurts." You mumbled against his chest.
"Hm?" He leaned in closer to hear you better. "Still? Do you want aspirin?"
"No," you shook your head. "I just need something to sit on top of it. I think my textbooks might work." You lifted yourself Jeno but he didn't let you go fetch your heavy textbooks.
"What if I lay on top of you?" He asked. "Think it would work?"
"We can try." So, you switched positions with Jeno in between your legs, his body heat and weight radiated off him and helped eased the period cramps. Meanwhile, you ran your fingers through his hair and threaded it and scratched it as the faint noise played in the background.
When you woke up the next morning, it felt cold to no longer have the warm presence that was on you; the warmness from Jeno and the coziness of your bed lulled you to sleep and you didn't even realised you dozed off in the middle of watching the movie. You stretched out your limbs and yawned, your muscles and body were already feeling much better today compared to yesterday, and went to grab your water bottle on your desk. There was your laptop laid neatly on your desk, you assumed Jeno had switched it off and placed it there before he left, with a sticky note on it. Sorry, had to leave without telling u, didn't want to disturb ur sleep. Call me when u wake up - Jeno.
Your emotions swirled at the simple message he left behind and you bit back a giggle because Ryujin was still asleep in her bed. You were too busy gushing and rereading his note again and again that you didn't realised there was a new poloroid picture of the said note leaver on your board which you did not put up.
There was only one bed. A decent sized queen bed, nevertheless, it was only one bed. "Um - there's only bed." You pointed out to Jeno.
"Yeah." He replied without looking and settled down the bags on the floor, and shrugged of his jacket.
It was easy to avoid relationship questions for one night, but to avoid it over the whole weekend was impossible. Jeno's hockey team arranged a staycation at a villa a couple of hours away from campus to strengthen their bond and unwind for a weekend. Even though it was a team gateaway, it was also an excuse for most of them to bring their girlfriend or whoever they wanted on the trip with them.
"Is there any room with two beds?" You sat your half empty iced peach lemon tea on the side table. "Someone we can switch with?" You asked him.
He chuckled, "I think that would raise suspicions, don't you think?"
"Oh." You clamped your mouth shut when Jeno pointed that out.
"All the rooms in the villa only have a king-sized bed or a queen-sized one." Jeno elaborated.
It was a gorgeous and fun villa by the beach and there was an indoor pool, a hot tub, a gaming room filled with arcade games, a pool table, a tennis table, a gorgeous kitchen with an outdoor kitchen and fire pit outside.
"Woah, you guys can afford this?"
"It's one of Chenle's vacation house." Jeno commented. "He was going to join but then he has last minute rehearsals for his play."
The rest of the day was filled with the whole team exploring the local town and you all came back and played in the gaming room. Everyone was spread out either competing in different games while you teamed up with Jeno for the table tennis doubles match.
"Woah! Let's go!" You exclaimed when Haechan and Chaeryeong missed another one of your shots.
Jeno high-fived you with the paddle, "you're going down Lee," which ignited a whole level of competitive spirit for Haechan and Chaeryeong but it sucked for them because you and Jeno were on fire and easily won the game.
"Rematch!" Haechan yelled out of dissatisfaction.
The heated match had left everyone hungry and tired so by the time the sun had set, all the guys were grilling the meats outside in the cold, while you and the rest of the girls were in the kitchen preparing the drinks and some snacks while gossiping. You had rarely crossed paths with them before you became Jeno's "girlfriend," but they were all super sweet and welcomed you like you were always part of them.
"We never see you at the games." Shuhua frowned as she stirred in the random juice concoction that she made.
You felt heat crawled up to your neck as all the girls' attention were on you. "I don't go to his games."
"Oh yeah, trauma, forgot those existed." Shuhua jokingly hit her head and you laughed.
"You know Jeno's always looking for you." Chaeryeong piped up while she cut up some fruits. "You should join us one day, we'll protect you," and fed you some fruits.
Was he waiting for you to show up to his games?
"By the way, how'd you get this guy to date?" Shuhua leaned in closer and so did all the other girls, interested in what magic you put him under to commit to a relationship.
Just then, Haechan, Serim and Jeno walked in with a tray full of smoked meats, "it's freezing cold out there," Haechan walked in to the kitchen all jumpy and blew warm air to his hands while Jeno and Serim set the tray full of meats down.
"It looks so good!" Chaeryeong's eyes bulged at the sight of meats and nimbled on one.
"Are you guys done grilling the meat?"
"There's still a lot more, wanted to give this to you girls first," Jeno stood next to you and fed you a piece of meat, "how is it?"
The smoky flavoured marinated really well with each other and the more you chewed it, there was a spicy after kick to it. "It's so good," and you gave him a thumbs up and fed you another piece once you were done with the first one.
"What were you guys up to?" Serim stole a piece of fruit.
"She was about to tell us how she got Jeno to date," Shuhua wiggled her eyebrows at you.
"You poisoned him or something?" Haechan jokingly suggested.
You decided to play it cool and nodded your head. "He took a sip of my secret potion, one taste and he was mine." You started off all serious and melancholic as if you were telling them your story, everybody was locked in to your story. "For a spell that can't be broken, one drop should be enough." You dramatically sighed and gazed at Jeno and held his chin with your thumb and index finger, his heart skipped a beat. "Boy, you belong to me."
Everyone including Haechan jumped in, "I got the recipe, and it's called black magic."
Everyone jumped up and down as they sang but Jeno, "take sip of a secret potion! One taste and you'll be mine! For a spell that can't be broken, it'll keep you up all night! Boy, you belong to me! I got the recipe! And it's called black magic!"
The first night ended on a high note with everyone joking and eating the delicious food, and everyone went to bed with a happy tummy. It was a bit awkward when you and Jeno were deciding on your sleeping arrangements since he's only ever helped you with your period cramps. Jeno was stubborn and insisted on sleeping the floor while you took the bed.
"Jeno, I'll sleep on the floor, you take the bed." You said with a concerned tone. "I know you have a tournament next week."
"It's nothing I'm not used to," he shrugged your concerned off and dozed off on the floor with the blanket. Maybe it was better this way because you think you would combust if you ended up sleeping with Jeno. At som point during the night, you got up from the bed to go to the bathroom and accidentally stepped on Jeno in the darkness of the room. "Oomf," Jeno grunted.
"Sorry Jeno," you apologised, not realising how close he was beside your bed. When you came back from the bathroom, you felt bad watching Jeno turn and twist in different directions on the hard floor even though there was a carpet underneath him to cushion the hardness. "Jeno, come to bed with me," you whispered in his ears.
He lazily shook his head with his eyes closed. "It's fine," he muttered.
"No you're not. I don't want you to be in pain because of me." You replied in a worried tone and held his hand. "Please," you begged him.
"Ok," his hushed tone carried loud enough in the darkness of the room. He got up from the floor with his blanket and laid down on the right side of the bed while you slept on the other - respectable distance between the two of you.
"Night Jeno," you turned the other way, so he can't see you ugly sleep your way through the night.
"Night doll," he settled in comfortably.
The morning sun seeped through your eyelids and your eyes fluttered open. You tried to get up but you felt a heavy and warm presence wrapped around you; Jeno's face was nuzzled in the crook of your neck you and his arms and legs were tightly sprawled all over you - bringing you even closer when he felt you moved. "Um, Jeno," you whispered not wanting to disturb him from his slumber but you just wanted to get up from the bed, "are you awake?" You asked Jeno who had his eyes closed.
"Hmmm," he groaned and pulled you in even tighter. Your eyes widened in shyness when you felt his morning wood buldged on your ass. What the heck?!
"Jeno," you whispered one more time in hope that he would wake up, "can you please let go of me?"
"Five more minutes," he mumbled with his eyes closed and inhaled the scent of your skin as you accepted defeat and melted back into a deep slumber.
You weren't sure how long you fell asleep for but it didn't matter because it was definitely one of the best sleep you had gotten in awhile. You chuckled when you found that Jeno was wrapped like a burrito, still asleep, and you realised all those late afternoon replies to your morning messages made sense - he was a deep sleeper. So you went off and washed up, had your first meal of the day, and Shuhua invited you to come along with her and Sungchan, since everyone already left the house to explore more of the local town, but you declined and told her you would meet up with them later with Jeno once he was awake.
You made your way back to yours and Jeno's shared room, expecting for him to still be asleep, only to be greeted with him fresh from the shower with only a towel that hung dangerously low on his waist.
"Morning sleepyhead," he greeted you with a smile as he dried his hair with a small towel.
Your eye shifted here and there before you decided to narrow in on his ear - yeah, that would be a good spot. "Morning sleepyhead," you lightheartedly mocked him. "They all went out to town by the way, told Shuhua and Sungchan that we would meet them there." Yeah, keep it cool girl.
"Ok, I'll get ready and then we can head there together. I think Chenle has an atv somewhere, we can ride that if it's in good condition." Jeno rambled but you were my paying attention to his words anymore. Instead, your eyes wondered the deep lines of his abs and his juicy pecs paired up with his beefy biceps, yum!
Get your head out of the gutter! It was still hard for you to make eye contact with him considering how naked he was. Yes, you've seen him shirtless but he had pants on the last time you saw him like this! Who knows what's underneath that towel. Even through the thick material, you can vaguely make out the shape of his dick. How hung was this guy?
The corner of Jeno's lips tugged upwards as he wiped away a drool on your lips; he couldn't pretend to not notice the intensity of your stares anymore. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." He teased you and you could only feel the embarrassment of getting caught.
He smirked, "you can touch it if you want," and brought your hand over the hard ridges of his abs and didn't let go of it.
You followed his sightline and stopped at where his huge dick laid underneath the towel. "Wouldn't it be weird?"
He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn't let go of it. "It doesn't have to be," and laid your hand on line of his abs and let it rest there - waiting for you to make your choice.
Maybe it was all those repressed desires for Jeno because your fingers moved down by itself and played with the hems of the loose towel, while Jeno stood still with an amused expression on his face. You looked up at him with an uneased expression, only for Jeno to give a nod of encouragement. You gave the towel a little tug and it instantly fell on the floor, revealing his big, pink dick. Your jaw dropped at the mere size of it and its mushroom top while it laid all soft. "Can I touch it?" You whispered.
Jeno brought your hand to his cock and rubbed it up and down. "I'm yours to touch." You wrapped your hand around his warm dick and Jeno winced in pain. "Not too tight."
"Oops, sorry." You were intrigued with the way his cock was slowly hardening under your touch; the pink tip curved upwards and your eyes glinted with list.
"Spit on it." Jeno instructed. You gathered the saliva in your mouth and spat it all out on his warm dick. The slimy and wet sensation left Jeno feeling breathless. The tip of his dick looked appetising with the precum that leaked from the tip so you bent down on your knees and licked it and tasted the saltiness of the liquid on your tongue.
You sucked the tip in an agonising slow pace, savouring every single drop and moan that came out of Jeno. He tugged on your hair and pulled it back, "don't tease," he whined. There was a mischievous smirk as you wanted to see him break apart under your touch so you dragged your tongue down his dick and he could only hold on to your scalp in desperate agony. Your tongue trailed up and down, up and down his dick until you reached the tip and sucked it harsh again. Jeno moaned and inadvertently pushed his dick in deeper. So you loosened your jaw to accommodate his huge cock. Jeno went deeper and deeper till he was halfway down your throat. "Fuck, you're so warm, princess." He grunted and you breathed in to your nose but gagged out his dick when you couldn't take it anymore.
You panted heavily for oxygen while his cock stood tall and proud in front of you - you still needed more of him. "Fuck me." You begged.
He shook his head and grazed his thumb against the faint scar on the side of your forehead. "What if you get hurt?" He was concerned if your brain could handle his big dick.
"I'll pinch your thigh if it gets too much, that good enough for you?" Jeno inserted his cock in your mouth again, inch by inch he went deeper till you felt him in the base of your throat as you breathed in through your nose.
"Ready?" Jeno asked as he held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and you could only respond with a muffled yes. He went slow at first, his pace was gentle and his hold on your scalp was loose; he often glanced at you and checked if you were able to take it well since his pleasure was only second to your safety. Eventually you got tired of snail pace and muffled "faster," and that was when he punctured and abused your swollen throat at a fast pace while he groaned until streams of cum went down your throat and you swallowed every bit of it. There was a dark sense of pride as he watched you swallow his seeds. He helped you stand up and kissed you deep, tasting himself as you interlocked tongues. Your lips were swollen and you were out of breath and your pussy was wet and you continued kissing. "What a good girl for taking my big dick, even swallowed all of my cum." He nipped your lips, "wanted it from the beginning didn't you, baby?" And you could only nod as he sucked the air out of you.
"Let me return the favour."
The memory of the villa burned inside of you for days on end. Jeno was true to his words and kept it casual; he didn't treat you any differently than before and would joke and tease you around like usual.
We're friends, I can call and text him if I want. So, you dialled his number and it rang.
"Hello?" Jeno's faint voice came out breathy.
"Hi Jeno." You greeted him.
"Hi princess, what's up?" You heard a woman's moan on the other end of the line and your heart dropped.
"Nothing." You quickly said. "Just wanted to see if you're free tomorrow to film."
"Yeah, I have some time tomorrow."
"Ok, I'll text you the location. Bye!" You ended the call without even letting a Jeno say goodbye and slummed your body against the bed. God, that call could've been a text, and now you actually have to go and write a small script for tomorrow's filming even though you had nothing! What an idiot! You really thought Jeno would fall for you when he was just a nice person, combined with the fact he probably still feels guilty for pucking you, but sure yeah, he has definitely fallen for you, what an idiot! Stupid! You really thought you were the one to change him like you are not Bob the builder.
The blank ceiling stared back at you in frustration. Now you understood why so many girls walked away crying in pain even though they knew what they signed up for; You already fell for him but you fell even more after you slowly got to know him. It frustrated you that you read more meaning into Jeno's actions even though Jeno had always been a man of his words. He told you up right that it was a simple transactional arrangement. It was dumb of you thinking that Jeno would ever fall for you. He was just a nice person. You cried into your pillows last night.
No, you can't fall for him no matter how kind and sweet he is. Him kissing you was a fluke. That night at the villa was a fluke. You were both two individuals with pent up emotions and urges who didn't hate each other hence the physical attraction at the very least. Don't fall for him, don't fall for him. That was the thing, you already fell for him, hard. Just…don't let him know about it.
The feelings bubbled intensely in your body that you had to let the foams out before it exploded. You reached for the diary in its usual spot but it wasn't there! You emptied every drawer, every bag, your closet, flipped the mattress, and even searched on Ryujin's side just in case it was there. That would be the best scenario. Oh crap! It was nowhere to be found! You cried so long that Ryujin and Yeji caught you crying and were ready to immediately beat Jeno's ass but quickly jumped to the rescue and said that you lost something.
Jeno felt like a pervert, scratched that, he was a pervert. Right now, he was beating his meat while listening to a two second, innocent, voice recording of yours over and over again, while his game character hid in the corner of the screen, ignoring the whines and shouts through the chunky headset from his demonic friends. He had no idea how this became a regular occurrence; ever since meeting you, it became harder and harder for him to, well, get hard unless he thought about you. The post-nut clarity came and he had never felt more disgusted with himself, again. The logical side of his came back and it felt so wrong to disrespect you like this, especially since your relationship with him was far from that.
Whenever he was around you, he couldn't help that it was his natural instinct to constantly hold onto you, that his touches lingered longer, the need to playfully tease you, and maybe it was out of sheer stupidity, he sent risqué pictures to you. No, it wasn't nudes, simply topless pictures of him at the gym or in him in bed, and if that incited you to initiate something with him, well, he wouldn't be opposed to it. But you were good at keeping your boundaries - almost too good - there was a line he wanted to cross.
On some days, he wondered in the back of his mind if you were seeing anyone or sleeping with anyone else; the thought of that alone angered and enraged him in ways he didn't expect it to do so. Fuck whoever was touching and pleasing you. The first time that thought flashed his mind was when he saw a bruise on your neck when he first visited your dorm. There were times when a guy lingered his gaze on you for a second too long or you were friends with another guy, but he couldn't ask you that without him being a hypocrite. So, he did what any good boyfriend did - stared down the guy whenever someone looked at you the way he didn't liked.
Then it happened. The kiss when he came back from his away game. The texts and calls you made to wish him luck made him missed you even more, an empty hollow ache dug in his heart, even though he was tired from the game and the bus ride, his body instinctively led him to you. His heartbeat drummed when you opened the window, and without a thought, he cupped you in for a kiss on the lips - and the craziest thing was that you didn't push him away. You even leaned in for more. Well, that drove him a bit crazy.
Second, the villa. Maybe it was because you had to pretend to be a couple for the entire weekend, you naturally acted more couple-like. He loved getting a whiffed of your natural scent when you laid beside him and the warmth of your body against his when he woke up tangled in you - not wanting to leave the comfort of your presence. That memory replayed in his mind like background noise; if a simple kiss from you ruined him, just imagine what a kiss on his dick from you meant. Jeno tried to forget the touch of your soft lips on his with other people. Not because he wanted to forget about the memory but because his mind and body constantly crawled back to you. It was torturous to be toeing in between the lines. That was why he did what he had to do but tt felt wrong the moment another girl touched him and he instinctively jolted away from their touch. However, they were already naked so what else was he supposed to do beside eat her out so she can leave somewhat satisfied and that was when you made that odd phone call to him.
His eyes naturally wonders to you: the way your eyes light up when you drink your favourite iced peach lemon tea, the way you get shy and flustered when he teases you, the way you ride his motorbike with confidence when some of his friends were too scared to even ride in the back, the way you blend in with his friends and their girlfriends, and the way you're always so comfortable to be around that he feels like he can always be honest with you.
Once again, he notice you avoiding eye contact and being a bit colder than usual, your responses were curt and short - it reminded him of the time you avoided him the day after you got drunk. He hated it. At first, he choked it up to you having a bad day but it happened every time he met you, so he thought you were on your period but it wasn't possible because, according to his calnder, you weren't supposed to have it yet.
"Dude, you look sad." Mark observed Jeno's behaviour as they walked out of the arena.
"Yeah, you weren't hitting all the shots at practice today, what happened?" Serim asked.
"Nothing," he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "my girlfriend seems a bit down nowadays and I don't what to do."
"Well, have you tried asking her?" Mark asked him in an obvious tone.
"I did and she said she was fine."
"Wow, it's clear you've never been in a relationship," Serim scoffed at Jeno, "when a woman says she's fine, she's not fine."
"Or, she could actually be fine," Mark interjected, "depending on the situation."
"Yeah, that's true," Serim nodded.
"What? So is she fine or is she not fine?" Jeno asked, more confused than ever.
"Yes." They both answered.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't hurt to make her feel better and happier." Serim said.
"Like what?" Jeno asked.
"You know like show up with flowers and buy her favourite dinner." Mark brought up, "or take her to a special place."
The three of them went their separate ways once the main campus building was in view. Jeno mulled over his friends' advice and decided to follow through with it; he waited for you outside of your class with your favourite iced peach lemon tea in one hand, and a singular crochet flower in the other - he thought the crochet flower would look cute in your room. His palms grew sweaty but he forgot about it once he saw you walking out of your lecture hall, "hi babe," he beamed at you with his natural smile.
You pressed a firm line and gave him a slight smile, "hey, what are you doing here? We don't have filming today," you peeked down and noticed the items in his hands.
"Yeah, I know," a random guy dapped Jeno up and he shakily handed you the drink and the crochet flower.
"Thanks," you were hesitant but accepted it anyways and took a sip of your favourite drink while you put away the cute flower in your bag.
"Are you free right now?" Jeno quietly asked.
Your eyes wavered side to side, "uhm, I have assignments that needs to be done," and took another sip from your drink.
There it was again, the unfamiliar cold behaviour that was uncharacteristic of you. "Ah, ok," Jeno awkwardly shuffled his feet, he did not think it through.
"Is everything ok?" There was a slight concerned in your voice.
"Yeah, everything's fine, I just needed your help with something."
You took another sipped and bit your lips, "what do you need help with?"
"Come with me."
"What are we doing here?" You slipped in backstage of the auditorium and crouched down beside Jeno who was peeking out of the giant curtains.
"We have to keep our voices down," he gently shushed you.
"Why are we here? There's no one," you whispered.
"Sometimes when I know Haechan is rehearsing alone, I like to mess with him when I'm bored." Right on cue, Haechan showed up on stage from the other side and warmed up his voice. It was an empty auditorium with only a singular flash of light that shone on Haechan. Jeno waited until Haechan sang a song and was in his world and that was when he took out a small metronome from his bag. He set the metronome equipment down on stage and turned it on the setting to a beat behind Haechan's singing so it would drive him crazy with the small, clicking sound.
You watched the way Haechan fell into the rhythm of his own singing, completely in sync with himself until he stopped singing and looked around the place, wondering if he had heard something. There was nothing so he continued on but there was the sound again, completely threw him off. This happened a couple of times until he got agitated and yelled, "stop messing with me!" Whether it was a ghost or a person, he was so done with them because it only happened when he was alone. "I will find you."
"He's coming, run," he snagged your hand and ran before Haechan could catch either of you and tried so hard to muffle in your laughs as to not be caught. You stopped running now that you were safe from Haechan's wrath, a bit out of breath from the spontaneous sprint, "what was that?!" You laughed at Jeno's harmless prank on Haechan.
Jeno's eyes twinkled seeing you smile, "he's going to kill me if he ever finds out one day but it's Haechan so I can take him down."
"I'm not here if he ever kills you," you laughed while clutching onto your stomach. It took you a couple more seconds but the laughter finally died down. "Well, um, thanks for letting me on this but I have to go now."
Jeno's eyes widened as he interrupted you. "Let me take you somewhere!"
"I don't know Jeno," you looked down, "I-"
"Please," he carefully linked his pinky with yours, "it won't take long."
Why is it that all men ever do is lie because you wouldn't exactly define going to a park outside of campus as exactly short. But you can't say you hated it, in fact, you loved it because you both were paddling on a duck-shaped boat over the tranquil water when Jeno stopped at where all the ducks and swans gathered. He took out a huge bag of ziplock from his bag and sprinkled seeds at the ducks and swans nearby.
"Do you always carry a bag full of seeds?" Your eyes glinted with amusement as you watched all the little cute animals gathered around the seeds, pecking for more.
"Not always but often enough," he handed you the ziplock bag and it was your turn to sprinkle it around.
"So cute, Jeno look, it's coming to me," you drizzled a generous amount of seeds to them and Jeno did the same - you both watched in complete silence in the stillness of tranquility. "Why'd you bring me here?" A thought ran through your head.
"Honestly?" Jeno asked as he fed more seeds to them.
"Yeah, honestly." You repeated.
"You seem a bit down nowadays, and I don't want to overstep your boundaries, especially if it's personal and I'm probably not your go-to person. But I just wanted to share what I do when I feel down," he paused, "in hopes of helping you feel better, whatever it is you're going through, even if it's just a litttle bit."
"Hmm cool, is this where you bring other girls often?" You chuckled lightly to disguise the bitterness and sharpness of your tone.
Jeno shook his head, "it's my first time showing anyone that I come here," his soft tone swayed your heart. Jeno didn't know but the hardened wax you created around him melted once again under his sincere words.
Jeno was ultra-focused as he scored another goal and the whole crowd cheered for him but it always sounded bittersweet in his ears, especially since you were never around for his games. He scanned the crowd once more, in a silly little hope that he would you in his jersey, like all of his other teammates did with their girlfriends. There was a small inkling part of him that wished you would come to his games and watch you cheer from the stands. But he knew where you came from, he would never even step foot into the arena if it happened to him, and a small part of the guilt resided in him. The tensions were high, only one score left to determine the winner. Jeno clenched his jaw and gripped his stick, the puck flew across the rink from stick to stick. A quick glanced at his surroundings and he already knew which teammate to pass the puck to, in a swift move, Jeno slid the puck to Serim and Jeno instantly skated to the other side. He watched as his other teammates passed the pucked among themselves until it reached Jeno again -they were so close to goal. Jeno was about to strike his stick against the puck when he saw a familiar figure with his jersey and his number on it. Could it be…? It was you! You were cheering in the stand with Chenle and your other friends. The other team took this split second of hesitation to body check him and stole the puck, and they took the win.
The match ended and the crowd slowly dispersed from the arena. You went down to where the team was gathered and greeted Jeno, "sorry you lost, it's like I'm bad luck." You checked him for any injuries and he let's you; Jeno liked it when your attention was on him and loved the feel of your soft fingers on him even more and your concerned tone.
"You're not bad luck, I need to play better." He kissed your forehead.
It was the final scene for the video; Jeno drowning in the pool before he surfaces up, signifying that his paranoia was what killed him. Jeno's acting was more than convincincing, drowning while desperately gasping for air before it killed him. His stomach faced down and he floated in the pool.
One final zoom in on Jeno's body and you were done, "ok Jeno, done!" You reviewed the new footage that you had just shot, satisfied that your vision was coming together. You said once more only to met with the stillness of the chlorine air. "Jeno. I'm done. You can come up now." He wasn't moving at all, face down on the pool. At first, you lightly brushed it off thinking he was just joking with you but you cautiously stepped closer to the pool. "Jeno?" No response. "Ha.ha.ha. Very funny, you got me, you can come up now. The swim team will be here soon." No response. What if he pulled a cramped in between those takes and he was actually drowning?
Nevertheless, you sat the camera down on the bench and stood closer to the edge of the deep end of the pool. "Jeno?" You were panicking now, the worst case possible scenario ran through your head and you had to get him out of there. The only problem was that you can't swim if the pool is too deep so you looked around for those floating device but you didn't see any. So you leaned down flat on the ground and tried to grab ahold of his hand. So close yet so far. "Jeno!" You huffed, your fingertips were close to his, and in the blink of an eye, there was a commotion in the water since Jeno grabbed your hand and dragged you into the pool with him. "Ah!" You yelped as you fell into the pool, creating a huge splash.
"Got you!" Jeno was floating in the pool normally, laughing at his successful prank on you.
You were struggling to keep afloat, your neck barely came out of the surface. Jeno caught on to that and held your waist with one hand as he stayed afloat, while you anchored yourself on him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck - afraid you would drown the second you let go.
He rested one hand on your back, keeping you secure with his hold. "So you can't swim?" His eyes were full of mischief.
Now that you caught your breath and was able to think more clearly, "you jerk!" You let go of one hand around his neck and hit him hard on the chest that it thudded. "You scared me! Why would you do that? I can swim but not when it's this deep!"
"So you can't swim." He mocked with a cocky tone. "What if I," he paused, "just let go." You dipped in the water just the slightest but Jeno caught you in his arms as his laugh echoed in the pool arena.
You gasped and cursed at him as he did that whilst holding even tighter onto him. "You jerk! I'm going to kill you when we're on land," you threatened him again. "Don't let me go." You pleaded with desperate eyes.
"I won't let you go." He spoke in a hushed voice. Jeno's eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes, and yours mirrored his actions. The waves of the pool pulled you in even closer and without even thinking, your lips were pressed against each other. His lips was hot and tasted of chlorine and saliva and he kept on devouring you, pushing you right up the pool tiles. His hardness created a delicious friction and you involuntarily grinded on him, feeling the vibrations as he moaned. He grabbed your ass, pulled you even closer to him even though the gap was nonexistent between the two of you and you whined on his lips when you felt all of him. His lips chased yours when you separated from him because the sound of faint footsteps approaching the pool arena grew closer. Only the loud silence and heavy breaths filled up the arena, and you grew shy as you drowned in Jeno's eyes.
You spoke out first, "uhm, we should go. The swim team, they're here."
"Ye-yeah," he helped you out of the pull. It was an awkward mess of coming out of the pool and hurrying to leave before the swim team started their practice.
There was so much pressure you wanted to relieve the second you came back to your dorm, however Ryujin, out of all the other days, decided to skip class and chill in the room for the entire day. So the second Ryujin left for the evening, you took out your vibrator and went to town with it; there was an instant relief the second it touched your clothed pussy. You increased the intensity by one level and lulled into a daydream about Jeno, the pool, the villa, and god, imagining his fingers on you again. Once again, you upped the intensity by another level and the familiar coil in your lower belly forming when that moment was interrupted because there was a knock on your window. Shit. You turned off the vibrator and shoved it under your pillow and pulled the curtains to see Jeno with a takeout package and your favourite drink, iced peach lemon tea.
"Hi." Jeno greeted you through the window. "I've got food and your iced peach lemon tea," and came in through the window.
"Oh, uhm, thanks Jeno," you hoped Jeno doesn't noticed your flustered face, and fuck, you were itching for a release. "What are you doing here?"
"Movie night?" He brightly suggested and you both ignored the elephant in the room - the incident in the pool. The pool incident felt different than the time in the villa because it seemed like it was a tit for tat type of thing where you were curious about his dick and he was returning the favour. But the pool was impulsive, hot, and came out of nowhere.
You set up a towel on your bed so you both could eat while watching a movie in bed. Jeno settled himself against the headboard and removed the pillow to make himself even more comfortable when he saw the object underneath it.
Shit.
"Oh, baby, is this what you were doing?" You didn't say anything and felt all shy that Jeno caught you. "You must've hated that I ruined it. Did you come?" He was mocking you with a pout on his face.
"No." You said in a meek voice.
"Awww baby, what are you so shy for?" He pulled you in his lap, leaned in closer and pressed kisses against your jaw, you tilted your neck to the side to let him have more access and let out a soft moaned when he sucked a particular sensitive on your neck. "Fuck." He groaned as he took in the scent of your sweet self, "Because I was a fucking douche for interrupting your time," he sucked in that same sweet again to hear your whine, "let me help you."
Anyone could see that Jeno was a strong and muscular person, but the suddenness in which he manhandled you to sit you on his lap, in front of the mirror across from the bed, made your pussy gush with wetness. Jeno anchored your wait with one hand and spread your thighs opened. You were wearing Jeno's jersey with only a white lace panties underneath it. He moaned at the sight of your damp arousal that seeped through the clothing material. "Fuck," he hissed and kissed you hard and sucked the bottom of your lip before letting it go. "Your poor fucking pussy." He pouted.
"All wet and neglected because of me, right?" He lazily rubbed circles over your cloth clit but that pressure alone was enough to let out a desperate whined, relieved there was at least some sort of pressure. "Tell me, what were you thinking about?"
"You," you shyly confessed.
"You probably thought about me like the I way I was thinking about you in the shower jerking off to you," he rambled on. "Open your mouth," he spat in your mouth and watched the translucent liquid dripped, "take it like a good girl." He forced you to swallow and seeing him like this made your pussy twitched.
He stared at you in the mirror with a lustful gaze, "you're going to watch me watch you please yourself." He nipped your jawline and pressed the vibrator even harder against your clit that made your hips bucked up. "Aww aren't you desperate?" He snaked his hand under your, his, jersey and tweaked your nipple, bringing you pleasure from different sensation.
You grinded against the vibrator, wanting Jeno to increase the intensity so you could come. "Please, want to come," you begged him.
"Aww really?" He said in a condescending and pretended to increase the intensity only to lower it and you cried in disappointment. He did that a couple of times, enjoying watching the way you suffered under his touch. "I just started having fun," he cockily laughed in your ear. "Let me see the damage," and pulled off the oversize jersey, making you shy when you saw yourself topless in the mirror with your boobs hanging out, and your white lace panties soaking wet. "Prettiest boobs I've ever seen," he cupped them in his hand as if to prove a point.
You melted in his body, feeling exposed and shy at your naked self while he was still fully clothed. "You're so cute when you're so fucking shy." He bit your earlobe and trailed his hand down your side and took off your underwear. "There she is," he spreads your pussy with his other hand as the vibrator stimulates you on low. "So wet, all for me?" He teased and slowly inserted his ring and middle finger, instantly reaching deep into places you've never reached before. He heightened the sensation even more by increasing the intensity of the vibrator and you muffled your moans in the crook of his neck, taking in his natural scent, all while he made you come.
You stayed like this for awhile and he licked the juices of his fingers, "you did so well baby, thank you, thank you," and he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.
You know how people say a crush is just a lack of information? Well, you knew more about Jeno than you needed, and boy were you in trouble. If you were down bad for him before you got to know him when he was a mere stranger, now was even worse after getting to know him. The lines between what was real and what was fake blurred as you spent more time with each other. It felt like he was truly in a relationship with you, no facade, no pretending, just you.Each moment spent together meant falling deeper and deeper for Jeno. You knew he preferred staying in and in-door dates but he also knew you enjoyed going to new places so he would always go with you. From pottery dates to, to gym dates, to him teasing you to go to a cat cafe when he absolutely knew that you were scared of cats to the hours tangled in bed. There was also the hour-long calls whenever he was at an away game, and the late night drives in between your busy schedules. Even your friends warmed up to him and allowed his presence for your group karaoke night.
It was hour two of your karaoke session and Jeno still had not grabbed the microphone the entire night, he instead drowned himself with a fizzy drink everytime someone offered it to him. "Let's sing together," you pulled his hand since you knew he was shy when it came to these things but he stubbornly shook his head.
"I can't sing." He gave a pathetic excuse and planted his butt to the faux leather booth.
"None of us can," just then, Wonjin and Taerae harmonised a melodious high note to Taeyeon's I. "Well, most of us."
"Let me be your fan," and he pushed you to the stage while he snacked on some of the nachos. He would rather watch you sing and have fun with your friends than ever go on stage.
"Boo," you gave a thumbs down and playfully stuck out your tongue, "you're no fun."
And gosh, the number of times he's tried to drag you to the locker room shower with him when it was empty after his games or a workout session.
You scrolled on your phone as he changed to a fresh pair of shirt and sweats from his locker. Today he was unsuccessful in getting you in the shower with him because you had just washed your hair and you weren't about to do it all over again. You thought you were safe from the water demon but he playfully splashed some on you before you left the bathroom. So you brewed up a petty revenge plan to get back at him for splashing you with the tiniest drop of water. "Have you every thought what it would be like to be athletic?" You turned to him.
"Hmm?" He tilted his head to the side now that he was dressed in fresh clothes. "I am athletic," he said without a thought.
"No, I mean athletic athletic," you emphasised.
"I am athletic," he poked his tongue against his cheek and sat down on the bench, dragging you on his lap. "I play ice hockey competitively, cycle on weekends, lift weights five times a week, and hike up mountains."
You faced him as you settled yourself comfortably on his lap. "Sure, I guess," you cocked your eyebrows in doubt. "But don't you wish could do more?"
Jeno smirked, seeing right through your facade but decided to play along. "I guess I'm not athletic enough." He gripped your hips and you humped him dry. He snaked his hand down your pussy, "already wet, huh?" You wanted to wipe off the cocky smirk off his face but his fingers felt too good playing with your pussy and pinching your clit. He took off your pants and panties and dropped it on the dirty floor, whereas he only pulled down his sweats down his thigh and squished your boobs like a stresss ball, "ride me," he slapped your ass and shoved your perfect tits in his mouth, sucking and biting them.
You sinked into his tip and was already groaning from feeling of fullness and he wasn't even all the way in. It took a bit of trial and error but you had learnt to take it in slow first and let his cock just sink in you. Inch by inch he was filling you up with is huge cock and you whined when he was only half way inside of you.
Jeno alternated between soft licks and harsh sucks on your nipple, tonguing and moaning over your delicious boobs and leaving bites all over it. He let out a delicious groaned when he felt that he was fully in you and leaned even further back against the metal locker. You felt him twitch inside of you and rocked your hips against his; alternating between swirling your hips in a pattern and bouncing on his hard dick up and down, using his broad shoulders as an anchor. He licked all the to your neck and you moaned when he found and sucked on your sensitive spot, making to leave bruises in the process. He slapped your ass, "faster baby," unsatisfied with your slow pace so like the good girl you were, you bounced even faster on his dick, with your breast jiggling deliciously right in front of his face, until your thighs were burning from the intense pace. Pleasure coiled in your stomach, almost reaching that satisfying feeling but not quite there yet, and grinded on him instead.
Jeno exchanged starved kisses with you and sucked your tongue into his. "Jenoneno, I'm tired," you whined as you broke of the kiss and gave him your best puppy-like eyes, silently begging him to take over like he usually does.
He laughed and spanked your ass again, "what a brat silly girl, you're going to make yourself come on me," he mocked a condescending pout.
You cried on Jeno's shoulder, "please, I'm so tired, want to come," lazily grinding on him.
"Awww baby, you want to come?" His sweet voice dripped with threat, "what to do? I'm not fucking athletic like you said so fucking bounce if you want to come," he rasped in a low voice which made you even wetter.
Jeno watched you struggle as he loosely held onto your hips but not aiding it in any shape or form; you whined at the pain and fullness of his cock, regretting ragebaiting him, but did as he told despite the achiness of your burning thigh. "Please Jeno," your cries echoed in the empty locker room, "want to come, please, please, please," you begged and begged, desperate for release, but you were only met with a patronising attitude of the said man.
"Hmm," he hummed as if his dick wasn't also twitching and reaching a point of orgasm, "say you're sorry and do it well," and squeezed your ass.
You were desperate for anything at this point, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you're strong and athletic, please, please, Jeno, I need you," you whined in one go.
Somewhat satisfied with your apology, Jeno places a firm hand on your hips, and thursted you till you were seeing stars and only his name slipped out of your lips. He peppered sweet kisses all over your face, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, before pressing your lips into a melt-worthy kiss. "Thank you pretty girl, you did so well," and sprinkled more compliments and kisses like you were the only thing that mattered.
There was a drop in the pit of your stomach to the days leading to your "breakup." The kisses were sweeter and you never wanted to untangled yourself from him, and he never did. There was a small hope in the corner of your heart that believed that maybe Jeno had fallen for you and what you had with each other was beyond than what meets the eyes. Especially the way he embraced you in your warm bed, whispered sweet nothings in your ear, and moaned out delectable sounds that you would no longer witness. The day of the breakup approached, money was transferred to your account, and until the last second till you bid goodbye to your relationship, you had hoped Jeno had a change of heart. About you. About anything. Of course he left with easy footsteps, he always knew what he wanted. The least embarrassing thing you did for yourself was that you kept your bittersweet dignity even though so many questions and words ran through the back of your mind, what about us?
Jeno stared at the blank ceiling, his fingers tapped on his chest, slow and restrained, but they were itching to reach his phone. Another sleepless night after a battle of tossing and turning where his thoughts were his only companion. No, he cannot use his phone. If he used his phone, the first thing he wanted to do was text, no, call you, and hear your sweet voice for hours on end. There was an unfamiliar hollow ache that pained his chest ever since you two went your separate ways. It was all he ever asked for, a simple breakup; you both split the money, and he kept his motorbike safe from Chenle's reckless hands. There was even a cheery smile on your face when you parted ways. So why does it fucking hurt? At this point he didn't even fucking care if he lost the bet, lost his motorbike, if it meant that he wouldn't be losing you.
Why was it that every fibre in his cell refused to move away from you when you went your separate ways? For the first time in his life, his mind and his body were two separate entities: his mind was relieved that it was over while his body screamed at him to not let you go. He had walked away from plenty of girls with a light heart whenever they crossed a line but his footsteps were heavy when you both parted, he looked back secretly hoping you would do the same. However, you did exactly what he wanted, or what he thought he wanted, and made a clean exit without looking back at him - he walked with heavy footsteps that day.
His phone notification lit up with every ping! sound but he ignored them all because it wasn't the notification sound he had for you. The news spread like wildfire that the Lee Jeno was newly single again, he had constantly been receiving dms and personal messages from various people whom he had never even met. Prior to meeting you, maybe he would've been opened to entertaining one or two of them but now he's so fucking repulsed by the thought of being with anyone other than you. True to your words, the story you gave was that you broke it off with him because you weren't right for each other - a simple reason without tarnishing either one's reputation. Fuck that. Not right for each other? Did all those long calls and late night drive meant nothing to you? Were you not right for each other when…
Jeno got up from his bed and went downstairs for a midnight refresher, something to get his mind off you. His friends tried to cheer him up by setting him up on a blind date or take him clubbing like they used to when his routine only consisted of: class, practice, game, and dorm. But he refused all of their advances and preferred to sulked in the comfort of his room. A classic tale of someone going through a breakup. Instead, he was greeted with the delightful sight of Sungchan and Shuhua acting all lovey dovey with each other, and baking cookies in the middle of the night, making the air smell of comfort and warm vanilla. Yuck! He was sick. Ugh. It annoyed him seeing Sungchan with his girlfriend nowadays. Always on late night calls giggling and whispering about his day, and the exaggerated cries when he talks about his injuries, while Jeno's trying to go to sleep; no one needs to hear that, Sungchan!
"Hey, can't sleep?" Sungchan greeted Jeno as he opened the fridge door.
"Yeah," Jeno mumbled and scanned around the fridge until he spotted his zero calorie soda can in the fridge.
"Hey Jeno, want some cookies? We just baked a fresh batch." Shuahua boxed away the fresh cookies in an open container as the other batch bake in the oven for the time being.
"Sure, thanks." Jeno grabbed a cookie from the container and bit into it - it was delicious. But he knew that if you were the one to taste it, you would say something along the lines of, the chocolate chips melted perfectly into the buttery dough and it was the best kind of cookie because it was a crispy chocolate cookie and not a chewy one. Sungchan and Shuhua exchanged concerned looks as they watched a wistful smile formed on Jeno's face while he puts the cookie down. "It's good," he muttered.
"Have some more," Shuhua pushed the container across the kitchen counter.
"No, thanks." Jeno shook his head and raised his can, "just this for me." He was about to go back to his bed and mull over you and his thoughts until morning comes until Sungchan muttered something to Shuhua under his breath.
"We should set him up on a date like yn," Sungchan mumbled to Shuhua, "like kidnap or trick him into going."
"Did you just say yn's going on a date?" Jeno asked, checking to see if he heard it correctly the first time.
Sungchan's eyes popped wide opened, "n-no, I said what's today's date?" Sungchan covered up with a nervous laugh.
"Ok," Jeno eyed Sungchan suspiciously and left the kitchen but hid behind a wall near a kitchen.
"Oof," Sungchan wiped away an invisible sweat, "babe, imagine if he found out yn is going on a date." Sungchan said it loud and clear to Shuhua.
"So she is going on a date," Jeno appeared in the kitchen with a clenched jaw.
"Idiot! You weren't supposed to say anything," she whispered-scolded Sungchan and slapped him on his arm.
"Shit," Sungchan panicked.
"What date?" Jeno asked warily.
"I heard this guy in her music club or something asked her out." Sungchan replied.
"Oh," Jeno processed the information given to him, "with whom? Where? When?"
"You gotta ask the birdie here," Sungchan pointed his thumbs towards Shuhua.
"So, who's the guy?" Jeno asked her.
"Sorry Jeno," Shuhua shrugged and opened the oven because the cookies were done baking, "girl code."
"Ouch," Shuhua dropped the pan on the kitchen since she accidentally touched the hot metal pan without mitten gloves.
"Aw baby," Sungchan cooed and kissed Shuhua's fingertips, lost in each other and had forgotten about Jeno's presence.
As much as Sungchan annoyed him by flaunting his relationship, Sungchan made Jeno realised that he wanted a relationship with you; all the romance, the dates, the cuddling in bed, arguing but always coming back to each other at the end of the day. It made him puked imagining a life without you.
The only problem was that Jeno didn't know how to do relationships: the romance, the dating. He just did what came natural to him and all he knew was that he hated the thought of of another guy being intimate and getting to know you like he did.
Jeno scoffed when he spotted you and the other guy at 90's Love. It's our spot. Fine, if Shuhua didn't want to give him the details of your date, fine by him. Jokes on her because he knew your entire schedule by heart and waited till you were done with your class for the day and discreetly followed you with Mark's car that he had borrowed for the day.
He hid in the car and watched as you took the booth by the window. The guy you were with was tall and some might even say good looking but who knows. Everything seemed normal at first, you were chatting with the other guy, maybe a bit too happily, but it all changed for Jeno when he saw the guy laughed a bit too hard and wiped your mouth with a napkin and he dashed right in the diner.
"Thank you Zhang Hao," you took the napkin from him, a bit uncomfortable from the sudden touch.
"You're welcome yn." He flashed a gentle smile, "how do you like your food?"
"It's great," you reciprocated the same energy but being here on a date with another guy just felt wrong. It was your to-go spot with Jeno: whenever you were bored, needed a pick me up, or was just craving their delicious strawberry milkshake.
"Thank you for going on this date with me," he blushed shyly, "if I'm being honest, I wasn't sure if you were going to say yes considering it hasn't been that long since your breakup."
You sipped your strawberry milkshake, "you're surprised? I'm surprised you're even sitting down with me because you're always so busy with the club, music, and the student council." You strayed the topic away from Jeno, "like how do you do it all?"
"Do I seem like a loser?" He bit his lips while he gave you a shy smile.
"No, it's cute," you teased him. This was the first time that you had talked to Zhang Hao outside of the music club, you guys would usually say hi to each other or make small talk before practice began but that was it, so it came a bit of a surprise when he asked you out and you thought it would be nice to move on from Jeno after all these. Zhang Hao was a sweetheart, comfortable, and maybe in another universe you would've fallen for him, unfortunately, no butterflies swirled around your stomach when you're with him - just indifference.
Out of nowhere, Jeno entered the diner, slid into your booth, sat beside you, and sipped on your strawberry milkshake like you were still a couple.
"Hi," you glanced at Zhang Hao and Jeno.
"Hey, oh! You got my favourite loaded fries." He made himself comfortable and ate a couple of fries.
"Jeno, um, we're kind of in the middle of a date," you cleared your throat and looked nervously at Zhang Hao, unsure of what was going on.
"How rude of me," he wiped his oily hand on the napkin and extended his hand for a handshake, "Jeno, boyfriend."
Zhang Hao accepted his handshake with confusion, "Zhang Hao," wondering if he heard Jeno say boyfriend or boy friend.
"Boy," you paused for emphasis, "friend."
"Boyfriend," he stated again and took a bite out of your burger. "Ooh, you got my burger order, this is the good stuff."
Zhang Hao stared with his jaw dropped and looked hesitantly between you and Jeno, too scared and confused to say anything. So you stepped up, "can you excuse me for one second Zhang Hao? I just need to talk to Jeno for a bit." and went outside the diner with Jeno who flashed a smug smile at Zhang Hao.
You pulled Jeno to a secluded corner to have a private conversation and crossed your arms, "what's going on Jeno? I've never seen you act like this."
Jeno contemplated for awhile about how he wanted to say what he wanted to say but decided on the straight truth, "yn, I didn't realised this until after our whole deal was done, but I like you and when I heard you were going on a date with another guy that wasn't me, it pissed me off because I want to be that guy. I want to be your," Jeno gazed at you with sincere eyes, "boyfriend," he breathed out the last word.
Your shoulders dropped and your head titled with furrowed eyebrows. "Jeno, listen, I like you too," you started off and there was a gleam of hope in his eyes, "and I enjoyed our time together regardless of the bet," his lips tugged upwards, "but I don't think you like me."
His lips frowned and his heart dropped. "Are you telling me how to feel about you?" A bit confused with your response.
"No, well yeah, well - ok, let me ask you this, sex out of the way, have you ever dated anyone seriously? or spent time with any of the girls you used to hook up with?" You uncrossed your arms and explained.
"No." He admitted.
"Why?"
"I just never did," he shrugged his shoulders, "but I want to be in a relationship with you, you're different from other girls."
Your lips pressed into a thin line, "I'm exactly like other girls. The only difference between me and them is that you actually took the time to get to know me - well, forcibly, but I stand by my point."
"Ok?" He was still confused.
"All I'm saying is that all of this was a coincidence. If it was someone else who ordered the iced peach lemon tea or whatever drink or if you actually got to know the person you fooled around with, you would be confessing to her and not me." There was a pregnant pause. "I just happened to be the girl in this position," you muttered the last sentence.
He shook his head. "So?" He said almost a bit too blunt for your taste. "It doesn't matter because, at the end of the day, you're the one that I got to know."
Your voice cracked with a shallow breath, "Fine then, maybe there's still this unconscious guilt inside of you from hitting me." You tried reasoning with Jeno but you knew deep down that it was for you. It wasn't my possible for Jeno to fall in love with you because he doesn't fall for people and you were an anamoly. Even if was spelling it out for you. Because if you did end up dating him, the crack in your heart will never heal at the inevitability of him, eventually, moving to the next person. This was the only way to protect you from a disastrous heartache. "I forgive you Jeno and I know it was an accident. Water under the bridge. I'm all healed now and you even took me out to lunch the first time we talked to each other because you felt bad. You don't owe me anything anymore nor do I owe you anything." You stood firm on your ground, "take care Jeno," you bid goodbye before you entered the diner to resume your date with Zhang Hao.
Jeno stayed silent even after you left, contemplating and processing your words. The logical part of him agreed with you that it was just the time spent together that made him fall in love with you, but the thing that bothered him the most? Your unwavering reaction to his confession. Maybe you truly didn't see him beyond a friend and a fuck, and maybe, he never truly stood a chance to be with you. He should've known it wasn't going to be easy because all these years asking the universe for a clean goodbye, you served it to him on a silver platter.
It was the Premiere Day showcasing all the films in the auditorium. Professor Sooyoung had booked out the auditorium so all your classmates can enjoy the fruits of your labour together and even opened it up to the public so any student can join in and watch as well. You sat in the middle row beside your friend with the charm bracelet, excited to watch everyone's film.
"Did you invite anyone else?" She asked.
"Yeah I did, they couldn't make though because they all have class but it's ok since we already watched it together. How about you?" You scanned around the room looking for a particular individual but there were no signs of him. Despite the last interaction with Jeno, you had invited him to the Premiere Day since it was his film too. He deserved it. But he never responded to your text so you weren't sure if he was going to be here or not.
"Same, they have lab today." She replied, "is Jeno coming?" She asked.
You slummed your shoulders with disappointment, "I'm not sure," pretending like it hasn't affected you.
The winner for the local competition was announced a couple of days ago, unfortunately, you didn't win but your Professor liked it, so only that mattered. Soon after, the chatter died down, the lights dimmed out, and screen light flashed up - Everyone's eyes were focused on the moving screen in front of them.
In between the films showcasing, Jeno slipped into the auditorium and sat in the back seat with his hoodie up and a cap that covered the top half of his face. Even in the vast darkness of the auditorium, he easily recognized the back of your head, his eyes naturally gravitates towards you. The whole place was quiet except for the sounds that came from the screen, and the people beside him who were munching on their food too loudly. For the first time since he entered the auditorium, he turned his head to the left side, instead of staring at you, to politely asked them to quiet down only to met with a familiar face. "Haechan?" Jeno whispered, "what are you doing here?"
"Watching the films, duh," he obnoxiously shoved in another pack of chips in his mouth.
"Don't you have class right now?" Jeno asked himz
"We all ditched," Sungchan whispered.
"Sungchan?" Jeno was taken back to see another friend of his in the auditorium.
"When is yours going to show?" Serim asked.
"Yeah dude, I'm dying to watch it," Mark added in a bit too loud.
"Just shhh," he placed his index over his lips with a stern face but they ignored him and kept on whispering to each other in the back row.
Your heart drummed when the next film opens to a sound you've heard a million times while editing to the point you got so sick of it - you wanted to be free from the shackles you had created. It was torturous to edit something you once loved so much and all the memories attached with it, only for it to be bittersweet at the end.
The film opened with Jeno taking off his hockey gear in the locker room, you noticed everyone's eyes were locked in as they leaned forward in their seats as Jeno pulledoff his shirt, revealing his toned abs, and you swear you heard someone audibly gulped at the sight of Jeno topless. Yes! Baited!
"Fuck, you look hot man," Haechan whispered-hollered at Jeno and all the guys joined in.
"Just shut up and watch," Jeno rolled his eyes, feeling embarrassed to watch himself like this in front of an audience.
"Ooh, Mr.Actor thinks he's a hotshot," Sungchan mocked.
All the sweet memories flooded in Jeno's mind as he watched the film to the very end. Even though you had shared the final version with him before you submitted it, he didn't have the heart to watch it, and when you texted him about today, he never planned on showing up but his body betrayed his intention. All those hours spent on filming, editing, and complaining was worth it because chills went through his body when his character died in the pool. That day in the pool changed everything.
"Brooo, you can act," Mark patted Jeno on the back even though he was a couple of seats away.
"Goosebumps. Literal goosebumps," Serim commented, "I'm not sleeping by myself tonight.
While that was happening, in the middle aisle where you were sitting with your friend, you were feeling shy from all the compliments that your friend threw at you. "That was incredible!" She gushed over your video, "the hook scene with Jeno and I don't even like him like that! If I were you, I would've kept that to myself." She joked.
"Sharing is caring," you joked back. Once more, you glanced around the auditorium now that the lights slowly came back to life, looking for the main character of your video. Your eyes fixated on the back row, a bit surprised to see them, where you spotted Haechan, Sungchan, Serim, and Mark eating packs of snacks. Then, your eyes caught onto the silhouette with the hoodie and the cap, his face was covered but you had a feeling it was-
"Hold on!" A voice boomed from the stage and a figure emerged from the shadows of the stage with a microphone. You turned your attention back to the stage as the chatter died down once again. "That was an interesting film." Keeho commanded the stage and stared directly at you. Only for you to glanced at your friend, giving each other a, "what's going on look?" considering you've never even had a conversation with Keeho.
"Or was it a real-life-soon-to-happen documentary?" He dramatically continued on stage and people murmured in confusion at his accusation. Your friend held your hand as you sat up straighter and your eyebrows furrowed into confusion - an anxious, inkling feeling pricked through your bones. "This film was not fictional. It was her fantasy." He cackled evilly, "that's going to become her reality."
Keeho pressed a small remote in his pocket which changed the screen from your film to a familiar notebook that you had lost awhile ago, your Jeno Journal. Oh no! You stayed frozen as sweats formed around your temples and heart started racing. The screen flashed all your most embarrassing, inner thoughts for everyone to see: Jeno please notice me, he smells so nice I wonder what shampoo he uses, let me lick his fresh sweats, practically soulmates cuz we like the same brand of gummy bear, hehe going to the cafe library cuz I know hes there to get an iced americano, hes wearing jeans today so no practice for him, and much, much more.
A fusion of anger and embarrassment furled inside of you because these were your private thoughts that belonged to only you, and instead, Keeho, however he found the notebook, violated your privacy and made it his entertainment. Your fingers curled up into a tight fist and you got up from the seat at the same time as your friend; you weren't sure if you wanted to confront Keeho or leave the place, all you knew was that you needed to do something. Before you could even decide which action to take, someone had jumped on stage and punched Keeho in the face. Oof. The sound was not pretty. It was Jeno; his hoodie was down and his cap flew off somewhere. Jeno yanked the remote off Keeho and switched off the screen, leaving it white and blank.
"Ouch, that hurts," Keeho wiped away the blood that oozed out of the corner of his lips.
Jeno ignored Keeho's comment, and without a problem, trapped him in a headlocked on the stage floor. Some took out their phones and recorded the brawl, including his own friends, some gasped in shocked, while others chanted, "fight!" "fight!" repeatedly. Whereas you stood in complete bewilderment at the scene in front of you.
"Do you want to leave?" Your friend was concerned at how fast the situation escalated.
You appreciated the way she was still holding your hand, "no," you whispered back.
"Give back the book and apologise to her," Jeno headlocked him even tighter against his hold, not tight enough to cause him any damage but tight enough to know that he was serious about his threat, as Keeho gasped for air, his hands tapping out.
"O-okay," he gasped out before Jeno loosened his hold on him.
"Journal, now." Jeno demanded and glared his eyes at him as they both stood up and faced each other. Only now that anger had melted off a bit, Jeno realised that people were recording and watching him as he stood under the stage light. The thing he hated most was unwanted attention and here he was, not caring about any of it, and only cared about you.
"Fine," Keeho took out the small notebook from his back pocket and displayed it in front of him and pulled in a smirked, "just so you know, I would call the police if I were you because the things that she has written in the note-,"
Jeno clenched his jaw and poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and cracked his fingers. With menacing steps, he approached Keeho to headlock him again but Keeho was already down on his knees begging for mercy.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he begged for forgiveness.
Jeno rolled his eyes at him and snatched the notebook sfrom him. "Why did you do this?" His voice still dropped with threat.
"It's because you lied to me. You weren't the model for my portrait? Fine. But you said that you would help me the next but didn't! You lied to me! You were already filming with her instead of me." Keeho cried out his reasons.
"Shouldn't you be attacking me instead of her?" Jeno asked, a bit confused. "And, she asked me first."
"Oh." A moment of realisation hit Keeho. "It is what it is?" He offered an awkward laughed.
"Booo you whore." Haechan yelled Keeho.
"Stop shaming woman!" Someone from the crowd shouted.
"Get outta here!" Sungchan booed.
"He doesn't even go here!" Mark howled.
"Misogynistic pig!" Your friend piped up.
"Apologise to her!" Serim yelled.
"We all want to lick his sweat!" Someone else screamed.
The entire crowd booed at Keeho and chanted, "apologise! Apologise!" repeatedly. Jeno himself bunched Keeho's shirt and dragged him down the stage to where you were standing with your friend. He shoved Keeho down on his knees in front of you, "apologise," Jeno demanded once again.
"I'm sorry," Keeho muttered.
"Louder," Jeno ordered, "she can barely hear you."
Keeho cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for invading your privacy and putting it up on public display."
"I don't forgive you but I don't ever want this to happen again, to me or anyone else." You replied.
"Now scram," Jeno said. The crowd cheered when Keeho scurried out of the auditorium, but not without tripping himself first.
"And this belongs to you," Jeno handed you the small black notebook to you.
"Thank you, Jeno," and your hand lingered on each other while the book was passed to you.
"Yo Jeno, what shampoo do you use?" A voice asked from the crowd, breaking the moment between the two of you.
He looked around awkwardly at the crowd who were waiting for his response, "apple scented," he commented. A chorus of "ahs" echoed.
"What brand?" Someone else asked.
"A five-in-one." There were audible gasps of disappointment that echoed throughout the small auditorium.
The crowd left excited, sharing more gossips with each other after the whole debacle died down as they exited the auditorium. "Wanna go get a little pick me up?" Your friend asked.
"Can I take a rain check? I need to do something first."
"Ok, see you!" You hugged your friend goodbye and she disappeared into the long hallway. Whereas you waited outside of the auditorium, in the corner, for Jeno to exit the premise. A minute later, Jeno showed up at the exit door and you pulled his hand to get his attention. "Jeno, can we talk for a minute?"
Jeno was taken aback but he nodded in agreement, "sure."
"Ohhh, they're getting back together," Mark teased and the other guys followed suit with the teasing.
"Privately," you whispered to Jeno, your hand was still holding his.
They were never going to let this down. They were ruining the moment he was having with you so he sent them death glares.
"Guys stop it, he's going to smack us down in front of people," Haechan teased some more and they ran away while laughing.
You pulled Jeno to a secluded corner where people rarely passed by. You were the first one to pull your hand away from his, "thank you for standing up for me."
"That was a fucked up thing for him to do," Jeno shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
You handed the journal to him. "This belongs to you because no matter how much I think about it, I shouldn't have done that to you even if it was for myself. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry Jeno," and waited for him to take the journal but his hands were still in his pockets.
He took out his hands from pockets and stepped forward, "what are you sorry for?" He leaned his face closer to yours.
"I'm sorry for writing all those things about you."
There was a smug smile on his face, "what things?" and leaned in even closer until you were a teasing breath away from him, his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips.
You pulled your head back a bit from Jeno, feeling a bit hot from the sudden tension, "for - um - writing inappropriate things and stalking your schedule, and," your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips back to his eyes. "And - and,"
Jeno lifted your chin up towards him and pulled your waist closer towards him, and he kissed you on the lips; unspoken words between the two of you was translated in a singular moment of passion, guilt, and love. You missed him terrribly and so did he.
"I've missed you, I've missed you, I've missed you," he muttered on your lips.
"You're not mad at me?" You asked him while the journal was in between you two.
"I am mad at you," Jeno remarked lightly. You pouted a guilty look and looked down to the ground but Jeno pulled you to his again. "I'm mad at you for not telling the truth."
You avoided his eye intense gaze. "I'm sorry J-"
"I'm mad at you for not being honest about your feelings with me. The truth that you liked me." He cupped your face in his hands, not letting you get away. "I'm mad at you for pushing me away. Why?" His last word carried a heavy weight.
"Because you said to not fall in love with you, and I already was," you explained, "and because you don't do relationships."
"And I was an idiot for that," he leaned his forehead against yours and intertwined your hands with his. God, did he miss playing with your hands. "I only did what I did on stage because of you. I wouldn't have done it for anyone else," he said, removing any doubts you had of his love and affection for you. "Please give me a chance to prove you wrong. Let's give us a chance, for real this time."
Your eyes flickered with the tiniest bit of hesitation. "I appreciate you, I really do but-"
"Forget about everything else, just tell me you want this as much I want you?" His eyes pleaded with desperation.
You offered a quiet hum at first, secretly making Jeno nervous at your silence. "We can give us a try," you said after much deliberation.
With the softest touch, he flicked the side of your head and kissed it. "We could've had this sooner, silly girl." He embraced you in a warm hug and whispered down to you, "now, what else did my favourite pervert write in the journal?"
"Not a pervert," heat crawled up your entire body so you hid your face in Jeno's chest and let out a small sound of embarrassment.
"It's fine, I'm a bigger pervert than you are," Jeno let out a hearty laughed. You were it for Jeno.
"One more time." Jeno angled the poloroid in front of you since you were perched on his lap.
"Again?" You sipped on your iced peach lemon tea and placed it back in the middle console.
"Yes, sit still and look pretty for me." He said in a serious tone.
"My favourite couple!" Chenle came running to the car on the gravelled road with his huge suitcase and sunglasses perched on his head. "Me too! I wanna join!" He saw the way you both were cuddled up and was envious that you both were taking pictures without him. "I wanna take pictures too!" Chenle attempted to climb on Jeno's lap in the crowded seat but Jeno pushed him away, accidentally a bit too hard, and Chenle fell on the gravelled ground. "Shit, that hurts." There was the tiniest cut on the palm of his hand and he looked like he was on the verge of tears.
"Jeno," you lightly scolded him, only for him to frowned a little.
Feeling guilty from the way he accidentally pushed Chenle a bit too roughly, he patted his other thigh with a defeated look. "Come on, Chenle. I didn't mean to push you hard." Chenle climbed on top of Jeno like an excited puppy and made himself comfortable on his lap, "oof," Jeno grunted when Chenle sat his full body weight on Jeno; two people were now on his lap, you on the right and Chenle on the left,
"Yay!" Chenle caressed Jeno's pecs over his shirt and felt up his biceps.
You flicked away Chenle's hands on Jeno's body. "Don't touch my man."
"I knew him first!" Jeno moved his ear away from Chenle and wiped off the splattered saliva from him.
"Say that a bit louder, I don't think we heard you." Jeno dryly remarked.
Chenle melted even more against Jeno's chest and noticed a, small but sparkling, "J" neck on you. "Nice necklace," he commented.
"Thanks!" You showed off the pretty necklace to Chenle. "Jeno got it for me." This kind of necklace wasn't your favourite but Jeno looked so cute and nervous before he gave it to you that you started loving it because of the meaning behind it.
"Looks expensive," Chenle noted the beautiful shimmer of the necklace.
"Yeah, used the bet money to buy this pretty little thing." Jeno squeezed your hip with one hand.
Chenle snorted. "All of it?"
"Well, half had to go to her," Jeno feigned a heartache as he nuzzled into you closer with a pout, "just for her to spend it on some boy band."
You slapped his chest, "it was vip tickets for The Visionary!"
"What?! What do you mean half had to go to her?" Chenle shouted even louder than last time which made Jeno flinched - he knows who to blame if he ever goes deaf one day.
"I owed her that money, a deal is a deal," Jeno interlocked your hands with his and played with your fingers and ignored the numbing sensation on his left thigh.
"You knew it was a bet?!" Chenle shouted again.
"Yeah." You nodded nonchalantly and leaned your head on Jeno's shoulder.
"Since when? Towards the end?"
"Since day one." You replied.
"And you agreed to it?" Chenle asked.
"It was easy money." You rolled your eyes. "We pretended to date so he could keep his bike," you rolled your eyes, "and see other girls."
"You're the only one for me now," Jeno kissed your knuckles.
"Not to ruin this barf-worthy, sappy moment but you cheated Jeno Lee!" He yelled at him again. "It means you owe me your motorbike! And my money back!"
"If you can ride it, you can take it." Jeno shrugged off Chenle's attitude. "But I already spent all your money."
"Shut up." Chenle was fuming and crossed his arms. "So, I won but it doesn't feel like I won."
"Yeah, I'm the winner." Jeno smirked a cocky smile at Chenle who was still whining, "come on, don't be a sore loser."
"Yeah, you're the loser here." You playfully snickered and made the letter L with your fingers and Jeno joined in on the teasing saying that he was a loser.
On the surface, Chenle sulked and complained like a true sore loser, however, he held back a victorious smirked because what you and Jeno both didn't know was that he, Chenle, was the real winner.
The university ice hockey team had won yet another game and everyone in the stand cheered with excitement. "We won! We won!" Chenle cheered for his hockey friends and jumped up and down with you, Yeji, Ryujin, Wonjin, and Taerae. All of your faces were covered with the university's colour, courtesy of Ryujin. The cheers didn't die down until minutes later because it was the first win of the season, but soon after, people left the hockey arena one by one in an orderly fashion. Most people would just leave the area but some students would stop and take pictures with their favourite player.
"Wait guys, I'll meet you at the exit, I wanna say hi to my hockey friends," Chenle waved at hockey team and skipped towards them.
You squatted down and set your iced peach lemon tea drink beside you, and unlaced your shoelaces even though it was originally perfectly tight and intact.
"Are you coming?" Yeji turned back when she realised you weren't beside them.
"Yeah, go ahead, just tying my shoelaces," you laced up your shoelaces at a very purposeful snail pace as you stole glances of people taking pictures with your favourite player, and secret crush, Lee Jeno. He had freshly dyed his hair dark blue and politely took pictures with everyone who asked for them. Even if some of them were a bit too touchy or a bit aggressive with their touch, Jeno brushed it off with his signature eye smile. At every game you've been to, you had often debated to ask for a picture with Jeno but always chickened out once you saw just how many girls waited and lined up for him. That was part of the reason your crush on him grew bigger, he was always so kind and nice to others despite his looks - although, romantic relationships was not in his dictionary.
Maybe this time? The crowd had already thinned out so you wouldn't be embarrassing yourself and he was already taking pictures with other people so he would most likely take it with you too. You tied up your shoelaces with courage, picked up your drink and stood up from your spot; your feet angled towards the icy rink but you froze when you saw that smile in his eyes, a different smile, the kind that looked like he just fell in love and was on cloud nine, while talking to a girl. With a defeated spirit, you slummed towards the exit. Again.
What you had failed to noticed as you walked out the place was that Chenle was watching your every move. Like clockwork, you always exited the area later than your friends because of your shoes but he never understood that because your laces were perfectly tight and laced up whenever he looked down at them. Out of curiosity, he followed your line of vision and it landed right on Jeno. Ah. He saw how your eyes glimmered at the sight of Jeno and a plan evilly brewed inside his head.
It’s such a bittersweet feeling that this is finally out there because this fanfic, for some reason, I had a lot of ups and downs with it and it didn’t have anything to do with me struggling with the plot line or the characters. The original draft was written awhile ago but I stopped and let it marinate because I didn’t like where the story was headed and wasn’t a big fan of the character. I let the fanfic collect dust with the intention of revamping it one day but I never did so I accepted the fate that it would die and simply be gone. Then I started writing the other Jeno fanfics and was struck with inspiration to revamp the entire thing and I did it! But in between all the writing and editing, there was a lot of doubt and negative attachment towards this for some reason??? Like I can’t even explain it cuz I also don’t know what it is 😭 whatever it is, I thought about dumping and deleting the story halfway when I was done but for some odd reason, I didn’t dump it, and continued working on it. Anyways, thank you if you’ve read this absolutely mess about a person stressing over a silly fanfic and thank u @neowinestainedress for supporting this nothingburger! And thank u for taking ur time to read this fanfic and I really do hope u all enjoyed it despite whatever feelings I have towards it! I always get so happy when ppl share their thoughts about the fanfic with me 💗.
synopsis: your loyal best friend whose feelings have long outgrown platonic ties.
genre: slice of life, i guess. angst. eventual smut. slowburn (if you squint). friends to lovers. mutual pining.
word count: 9.6k~
warnings: both reader and jeno are two idiots so prepare to be ragebaited. mentions of karina and jaemin. jeno gets major jealousy. cussing and a bit of arguing. cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex (uh oh!), dirty talk, petnames, mock sympathy, dom!jeno, praise kink, teensy bit overstimulation... i think that's it lmao ?
mimi's note ࣪ ˖ ི : i first wanted to start off saying thank you all SO FREAKING MUCH for all the support on my blog so far, i wasn't expecting my work to be loved this early 🥹 so as a proper gift of gratitude, i present my first (kinda) full-fledged jeno fic!! i know ncity's a bit fucked rn so hope this helps.. anyways, happy reading <3
it's hard to say when it began, this confidant-like friendship you now share with jeno. you two met through mutual friends, and slowly yet surely, he became the one person you turn to with every romantic disappointment that plagues your life.
ghosted by a man again? tell jeno. regretting a horrid hookup? jeno's hearing of it. developing feelings for a guy from another dating app? jeno, jeno, jeno.
it's not like you set out to use him as your personal therapist or something; he just happened to be an exceptionally good listener. and he never once complained.
this time was no different. you had bombarded jeno with multiple (wildly over dramatic) messages, demanding that he come over at once because of an "emergency conversation" that you simply had to inform him of. of course, being the ever-present and dependable friend he is, he dropped everything and came.
when he arrives, you're already dragging him inside and shutting the door behind him with a tad too much urgency, breaths uneven. you're in simple home clothes: a fitted tank top and relaxed shorts. jeno's attention drifts over your form for a moment too long. he feels his throat close up and his heart begins to hammer against his ribs. you look absolutely radiant. it's a domesticity that feels like a taunt; other men that you involve yourself with that get to have access to the utmost beauty that you are... and he doesn't. he hates it.
he shakes himself out of his trance and deliberately shifts his focus back to your face.
"...alright. what's going on?"
you're practically bouncing on your toes, letting out tiny squeals and excited little exhales. it's so cute to him that he wants to bash his face in. when your energy finally dips slightly, you seize him by his collar and yank him close, until your faces are just inches apart.
"me and you are going on a double date!"
jeno's head begins to reel from your words. a... double date? you've organized a date for yourself and actually found a girl for him as well? the thought alone is exhausting. his unrequited love for you is nearly impossible to suppress as it is, and now he has to spend an entire evening pretending as though he's at all interested in another woman while watching you with another man? it sounds like a nightmare.
but he can't bear to refuse when you look so happy. your wide smile and the way you're jumping and giggling, it's one of the most adorable sights he's ever witnessed. and so, his response spills out of him before he can even reconsider.
"when is it? and where, exactly?"
another soft, delighted squeal slips from your lips, and he feels any remnants of his hesitant resistance to the offer crumble, melting like warm putty at the sound of it.
"it's next weekend! at that one bar/grill joint we passed that one time—you remember, right?" you exclaim, eyes sparkling with that beautiful anticipation. "please, please, please tell me you're free then, jen-jen."
jen-jen.
if you weren't already mercilessly tugging at his heartstrings, that infuriatingly sweet little nickname would have singlehandedly shattered and snapped them completely.
"yeah.. yeah, i'll make sure to free up my schedule for next weekend."
you yelp out of joy, immediately throwing your arms around him and murmuring soft words of gratitude and encouragement while he quietly feels his heart simultaneously break and swell at your embrace.
in what feels like a much shorter time span than a week, the destined weekend double date finally arrives. jeno is all nerves and anxiety, his traitorously unhelpful conscience conjuring up all the many ways this could go very wrong.
the plan is for him to pick you up from your apartment at exactly 6:30 and no later than to head to the place together, since it's already half an hour drive.
he dressed casual, but not too casual. he pulled on a gray-ish henley with dark wash jeans and some brown, small boots. not too shabby, he supposed.
when he pulled up to your apartment and knocked on the door, he barely had time to wait twenty seconds before you swung it open. when his eyes landed on you, you stood there dressed in one of the most beautiful, casually enchanting dresses he's ever seen you in. and considering how many times he's had the misfortune of watching you doll up for other men, that's saying something.
"wow, you look..." he mumbles under his breath. he doesn't even have time to wonder if you caught it because you cut him off before the sentence can fully take shape.
you smooth the fabric of your dress with a quick motion and pick up your delicate purse from the small stand near the door. it then clicks shut behind you as you step out into the very pleasant weather of an august evening. the scent of your feminine, airy perfume wafts up to jeno's nose in large waves of sweetness, which is more than his already precarious restraint can bear.
"oh my goodness, you're perfectly on time!" you exclaim. "we should leave now—i don't want us to be late."
he nods and immediately leads you to the parking lot, opening the passenger door of his car for you, the gesture silent but undeniable in its chivalry. despite the 'just friends' label that you both stupidly cling onto, he can't resist treating you with every ounce of tender, gentlemanly attention a boyfriend would. the same attention you complain to him about not finding in any man you talk to romantically.
if only you bothered to open your eyes...
you climb into his passenger seat, swiftly clicking in your seatbelt with one hand while the other pulls out your phone to type in the name of the joint into the GPS app. jeno walks around the car and slips into the driver's seat, switching on the ignition and clicking in his own seatbelt.
"i'm so freaking excited, jeno, seriously. me and this guy have great chemistry, and i'm sure that you'll love his friend that he's bringing too. she's super pretty. wanna see?"
he's not at all excited. he shakes his head, gently taking your phone from your hands and placing it on his right thigh with the directions on-screen as he pulls out of the parking lot, one arm moving to rest behind your headrest as he reverses.
"i'll see her anyway when we get there, no?"
you blow a lighthearted raspberry at him, flipping down the overhead mirror to take one last glance at your makeup. light brown tones dust your eyelids, while a delicately lighter shade of pink warm your cheeks. your lips, coated with a thin layer of glossy sheen, look succulent and soft under the combined, dim light of the car and the moon above.
it's an entire battle in and of itself for him to keep his eyes on the road ahead, and not blatantly gawk at you the way he wants to.
it kills him to ask—to feign interest in any aspect of this situation—but anything to break the silence that's beginning to envelope the space of the car.
"so... about the guy. and the girl too, i guess. but um.. how well do you know them?"
you snap the overhead mirror back into place, gently tugging the hem of your dress a little lower on your thighs. clearing your throat, you speak with that easy, naturally smooth tone that has developed between you two after months of closeness.
"well, i don't know the girl at all—tonight will be my first time meeting her, too. but the guy, we've been talking back and forth for about a month now. his name is jaemin—he's really hot, actually, but i can't tell if he's just another jackass... guess we'll find out."
jeno simply nods along, his face betraying nothing of his inner turmoil and how every word leaving your lips is slowly chipping away at and dismantling his sanity and emotional control.
"i'm excited," is all he murmurs. you clap and smile widely, beaming with delight at his apparent enthusiasm. you remain unaware of just how violently he's fighting the impulse to turn his car all the way back to your apartment and call this whole idiotic 'quadruple date' off.
for the rest of the ride, he switches on some smooth r&b, velvety vocals and silky instrumentals flowing through the speakers at a comfortable volume, wrapping the car in a cocoon of intimate warmth.
approximately half an hour later, they pull into the parking lot of the bar/grill joint, the sturdy yet inviting brick building's windows already showing flickers of other customers within the establishment, which is bathed in yellow-toned lighting.
you exited the car almost before he had fully parked, and the sight made his stomach churn. he felt the urge to lock the doors and remain seated (possibly for the rest of his days) intensify. only now that he was parked in front of the building, which seemed more like hell on earth than an inviting, fun place to enjoy a night out, was the reality of the situation beginning to crystallize.
when you glanced back and saw jeno still frozen behind the wheel through the windshield, you waved him over with a playful gesture, your expression blooming into one of your signature, sweet, torturously disarming smiles; the very one he wishes he could devour right off your pretty little face.
he sighs softly to himself, muttering "just do it, it'll be fine" over and over under his breath as he opens the driver's side door, climbing out of the car and walking over to your side, following you into the establishment.
he rests a hand on the small of your back as you enter together, the touch effortlessly instinctive. the lively chaos of the combined bar and grill immediately swallows both of you. almost every table is packed with customers, some nursing drinks while others enjoy meticulously prepared meals. a vibrant tapestry of chatter and laughter fill the space as your eyes sweep the room in search of the two individuals you're here to acquaint yourselves with.
finally, your eyes land on a man with jet black hair, the strands artfully arranged to accentuate his striking appearance. beside him stood a woman whose face you couldn't quite discern all the way from here, but from what you can see, she looks drop-dead gorgeous. that must be jaemin and his friend. you practically gripped jeno's arm and led him across the room with purposeful strides to the table in the corner.
as you and jeno approached the table, jaemin and his friend glanced up with welcoming smiles and rose from their chairs to greet you both. and wow... jaemin had not overstated his friend's beauty. up close, she was stunning—every contour and soft play of light on her face seems handcrafted by Aphrodite herself. an almost ethereal loveliness.
"you must be karina, right?"
she nods with a smile of such devastating beauty that you're convinced it has felled hundreds of hearts across her lifetime.
you two exchange quick and friendly introductions, and you greet jaemin in turn, who looks like he's trying his absolute best not to check you out. then her gaze moves to jeno, drawn almost immediately to the way one of his hands is gently resting on the small of your back. she chuckles softly to herself at the sight, and then her eyes meet yours again.
"you sure you two are just friends...?"
you laugh, the sound carrying a unintentional hint of awkwardness, as you nod in quick succession. you reach back and carefully remove jeno's hand from your lower back. you felt it—the way his fingers resisted for a moment, clinging to yours stubbornly before releasing.
another of those quiet, intimate gestures that you habitually ignored for the sake of maintaining the fragile boundary of friendship.
"yeah, yeah, of course! jeno's like a brother to me, i swear."
jeno's jaw tightened at the uncomfortable description, but he schooled his expression to one of neutrality. after all, it was perfectly reasonable for you to see him as a brotherly figure. though the sting of it lingered nonetheless.
jaemin took your hand and led you to the seat beside his, pulling it out with the courtesy of a proper gentleman. jeno watched the exchange with the most weakly masked unease, though he stayed silent, lowering himself in the chair next to karina's. she offered him a warm smile. any other man would have melted at the sight, but jeno returned only a polite grin before facing forward. he bore the girl no ill will - she was strikingly beautiful and clearly kind - but his heart has belonged to another for so long that he can't even begin to feign interest in others anymore.
a few long-ish minutes later, a female server approaches the table, and with the amount of patrons currently in the establishment, how flushed her face is, and how she's slightly panting, you can tell they're slammed tonight.
"hello, i'm terribly sorry for the wait! what can i get you guys?"
the group settled on their orders. jaemin opted for pulled pork paired with complimenting whiskey, karina chose a margarita alongside a New York strip steak, you went with grilled chicken and vodka, and finally, jeno ordered the pork chops, along with the only non-alcoholic drink at the table - crisp apple cider.
the server jotted down your orders on her notepad with a certain impressive speed that only years of food service could hone. she assures you all that the kitchen would begin preparing your dishes shortly, then hurried off with a quick smile.
once the drinks arrived, the table erupted into small cheers and murmurs of gratitude. jaemin raised his glass of whiskey and clinked it softly against yours with a warm, charming grin. "to a fun night," he murmured, voice like silk, "and to the company of an absolutely gorgeous woman."
you giggled softly and lifted your glass to clink it against his, taking a delicate sip of the colorless vodka. the liquid leaves a satisfying burn as it slides down your throat. across the table, jeno observes this intimate interaction with a heavy gaze, taking weak, insufficient sips of his cider. karina either is completely incognizant to how jeno's eyes are blatantly glued onto you and jaemin, or she did indeed detect it and chose not to acknowledge it. it seems to be more likely the latter since she then leans in and rests a boldly flirtatious hand on his thigh.
"hey there," she purred, her voice laced with amusement. "you've been awfully quiet since you got here." she laughed softly and scooted her chair closer to his, despite being right beside each other. "i don't think i've heard you say a single word yet."
jeno is snapped out of his very unambiguous studying of you and jaemin, turning to look at karina. her winsome, inviting eyes stare right back at him expectantly, and he feels slightly shamefaced for glaringly neglecting this girl and barely acknowledging her presence, too focused on the conversation you and jaemin are currently engrossed in. he clears his throat and internally pressures himself to at least attempt small-talk with this hopeful woman.
"hey, sorry about that." he replied, trying to shake off the distance and awkwardness. "i didn't mean to seem aloof. but anyways, tell me more about yourself. do you live around here?"
karina seemed much more animated now that jeno was actually participating in the conversation and not dwelling inside his own head. she nods enthusiastically, her fingers tapping a gentle rhythm where they rest on his thigh.
"yeah, i just moved to this area about half a year ago," she said with a warm, sincere smile. "it's been lovely so far!"
jeno gave her a small nod and smiled back politely, the picture of poise. in truth, behaving as though he was absorbed in whatever karina was going on about right beside him felt far more tortuous than he had projected. he tried to contain himself, to restrict his gaze from perpetually finding you and jaemin across the table. he couldn't. his knee was beginning to jitter uncontrollably, sweat was coating his palms in a thin layer of glistening sheen, and his jaw cinched repeatedly. karina's voice dissolved further into the background while the chatter of you and jaemin became deafeningly loud, echoing throughout the recesses of his mind.
luckily, the food arrived just then - a very crucial distraction from jeno's downward spiral. you all thank the server heartily, taking your respective plates while warm steam rises up from the meals in curling plumes. the ambrosial scent of cooked/grilled meat wraps around everyone, and you all fumble to uncover the knives and forks from their neatly folded napkins. jaemin leans over and whispers something to you that jeno - to his disappointment - couldn't decipher from across the table, earning a small chuckle from you. he reaches over to steal a slice of your grilled chicken and you smack his hand away, pushing him gently. he laughs at it; as do you. and all the while, jeno can't seem to look away from your naturally cute and intimate little moment with jaemin.
why was he condemned to sit on the sidelines, forced to spectate you lavish your warmth and attention onto any man but him?
karina observed it all, naturally. i mean, if you weren't so thoroughly preoccupied with jaemin and his flirtatious charm, you would too. anyone with eyes who bothered to pay even an ounce of attention could see how obvious it was that jeno's awareness was fixed on you and the man at your side.
he tore into the tender pork meat harder than necessary, the sharp line of his jaw clenching with each grind of his teeth. this is pure hell for him. he's not sure how much longer he can sit at this table and watch you glow for another man until he ends up clawing his own face off (and jaemin's too.)
then karina claps her hands, successfully drawing attention from the group as she shifts in her chair. "alright, guys, how about a fun icebreaker? never have i ever, two truths and a lie - a game to actually get to know each other?"
you and jaemin are quick to show enthusiasm, but jeno's face remains meticulously deadpan. you finally notice his contrast of reaction from the group and lean forward, addressing him for what is probably the first time since you and jaemin became lost in conversation.
"you're okay with that, right, jen-jen?"
again, that stupid fucking nickname that sends his heart racing faster than it ever should. sometimes he wished that you were simply ordinary. that you'd call him jeno like everyone else does, look ordinary, act ordinary. that you'd just be the most unremarkable and dull woman that he'd have no issue keeping at a platonic distance comfortably. but of course… you're the farthest thing from ordinary. you're lively, magnetic, fun, and one of the most captivating people he's ever had the pleasure of being around. and if he wasn't so utterly terrified of losing your company forever by telling you that his feelings for you ran far deeper than friendship, he would. he'd have told you the moment he realized the truth himself, would have shouted it from the rooftops. but alas, fear of causing your absence from his life has kept him silent and in suffering. and here he remained.
"yeah, of course. i'm up for a fun game."
you smiled warmly at his agreement, seemingly oblivious to his internal torment. and as if watching you be all lovey-dovey with jaemin since the second you two got here wasn't agonizing enough, he now had to witness you casually lean into his side as jaemin's hand boldly found its place on your waist. he clenched his jaw until it ached and tore his eyes away before he did something he'll truly regret - like dragging you out of this damn restaurant and into the backseat of his car where he'd fuck your brains out the way he's been desperately yearning to for far longer than is acceptable.
right then karina pipes up, speaking excitedly and grabbing jeno's hand under the table to intertwine it with hers, like they're already an established couple. "then let's play never have i ever and if you've done the thing mentioned, you have to take an extra large drink of whatever alcohol you ordered, okay? you have to be honest!"
she then tilted toward jeno and whispered softly to him, her voice flirtatious and kittenish - which, again, he would've wholly liquefied at if every inch of his very heavy heart wasn't served bare on a platter just for you. "i know you got cider, so we can just share my drink for the game, handsome." she purred.
jeno gave karina a wordless nod and a strained smile. although he had no desire to share a drink with her. no desire or pull to play this ridiculous game. and he certainly had no desire in seeing jaemin's relentless flirtation towards you, or even worse, to endure the sight of you and your girlish coquetry towards him. he wanted none of this. yet still, he had let you drag him here without so much as a single objection because of how you had lit up from within just talking about this. and in the end, he knows deep down that here he'll stay, in silent agony, if it was what you wanted.
because what is lee jeno if not a fool for you?
the questions started innocently enough, none of them really pertaining to any of jeno's past (or distressingly current) experiences. things like "never have i ever slept with someone on the first day of knowing them," which jaemin and you, much to his dismay, drank to. the thought of some undeserving man who most likely fumbled through sex - failing to please you the way he knows he could - earning the privilege of taking you to bed on the first day... it burns a hole bubbling with searing jealousy through his chest.
karina comes up with the next question, sitting up straight in her seat as she clears her throat. "okay, what about.. never have i ever had feelings for a friend."
the table goes silent for a few moments. jaemin laughs insouciantly, putting up both hands in a cheeky gesture of mock surrender. "not me. all my friends stay friends." karina giggles and makes no move to drink either. then, jeno gently takes hold of the shared alcohol between him and karina, and takes a large, intentional gulp, far larger than necessary. your eyes hovered on his action, and after a few seemingly drawn-out seconds, you lift your own drink and take a sip.
jaemin uttered out an absurdly immature "oohhh", prompting you to gently elbow him while scoffing. jeno, however, stayed mostly stone faced. if anyone bothered to spare a glance under the table, the only thing to give him away would be the restless bounce of his leg.
you sighed softly and shrugged, letting your back press against the backrest of the chair as though your words held no weight at all. "i don't know," you muttered. "sure, i've developed feelings for a few guy friends over the years, but it was never anything major." but jeno had caught the way your eyes had stayed on him when he drank after the question. how it felt as though you weren't planning to drink until he had, which is when you lifted your glass in tandem. your nonchalance rang hollow in his ears - he wasn't convinced. or maybe it was another false impression.
jaemin then turned to jeno, probably their very first one-on-one interaction of the night, as he jutted his chin to him, a nonverbal beckon for his attention. "what about you? why'd you drink?"
jeno's eyes found yours for a fleeting moment before compelling his eyes back down to his drink, where he traced the rim of it with his index finger. "the same for me, i guess." he carded his fingers through his hair. "i sometimes become friends with women that i don't really have strictly platonic intentions with, and i just hope that over time, the label of friendship will drive my feelings to just fade. but... they usually don't."
a blanket of silence fell over the table before jaemin snorted softly, reaching across the table to gently shake jeno by the shoulder. "damn, man. that's gotta suck."
jeno pressed his lips into a thin, taut smile. his opinion of jaemin was souring further and further the longer this outing progressed, but he kept this sentiment carefully disguised, not wanting to spoil the mood.
the game carried on for another half hour, the restaurant gradually emptying out until only your table remained. jeno had only drank a few more times throughout the rounds and was just a tad bit tipsy, while you most definitely had fallen victim to the alcohol completely. you were all over jaemin now, pressing soft kisses on the side of his neck and murmuring things into his ear that he kept chuckling at. karina had apparently caught onto the way jeno's eyes were hooked onto any physical touch that was exchanged between you and jaemin, so she leaned in and whispered.
"you like her, don't you?"
jeno's head snapped to karina beside him, his stance frozen like a deer in headlights. he blinked at her, once, twice. she only laughed at him, gently patting him on the arm. "if you're gonna ask me how i know, save it. anyone with a working pair of eyes could figure it out. the real question is how she hasn't noticed yet."
jeno looked over at you - how your head was resting on jaemin's shoulder, how he was leaning in to brush his nose against yours. it made his fingers curl, nails digging into his thighs. "yeah. i do." he breathed. "and i'm sick of watching from the fucking sidelines."
karina pulled out her phone, noting the time: 10:05 pm. the restaurant was surely set to close soon. she drew near jeno again, voice low and slightly expectant as she spoke, "then tell that to her, not me. tonight. because if you don't... you'd better believe she'll be waking up in jaemin's bed come morning."
jeno visibly flinches at the thought, and his gaze lifts to find karina's. the flirtatious smiles that she had been offering him throughout the evening had faded completely, replaced by a warmer, more encouraging grin. and for the first time all night, jeno reciprocated her beaming expression. he reached over and gave her hand a gentle, friendly squeeze. "thank you, rina," he murmurs softly.
she waved her hand dismissively, her smile shifting to something more mischievous but still warm. "oh, don't thank me. the last thing i want is to try and pursue a guy whose heart is already taken." then she stands up, her voice louder now to get yours and jaemin's attention.
"alright, guys! it's getting late, let's wrap up here."
you let out a drunken groan of disappointment and latched onto jaemin's arm, shaking your head like a petulant child. he chuckled and began to rise, trying to coax you out of your seat as well. after a few moments of half-hearted resistance, you finally gave in, swaying from side to side as you stood shakily.
"come on, darling. let's get you into the car," jaemin hummed, one strong arm wrapped securely around your waist while he carried your purse in his other hand. jeno glanced at the other man's affectionate touch on you from the corner of his eye, jaw tightening as he willed his feet forward, to the restaurant exit. he reached the door before the rest of you, holding it open.
karina stepped outside first and waited for the group, tapping her foot lightly against the pavement. the moment jaemin escorted you through the doorway, jeno moved. he couldn't refrain himself - he wanted nothing more than to be the one with his arm curved around your waist, holding you steady, feeling your delicate head be supported by his broad shoulder, all of it. he deserved that. more than jaemin, more than anyone.
jeno's large hand gently (yet firmly) slid around your upper arm and carefully extracted you from jaemin, pressing you into his side instead. his gaze shifted to jaemin's face, bewilderment evident on his features. the look swirling in jeno's eyes wasn't outright anger, but it was by no means friendly, either.
"i'll take care of her," he stated unwaveringly. with that, he guided you out of the doorway and into the cool night air, the faint chill skimming across your skin. jaemin blinked in clear confusion before trailing after you three. karina and jaemin made their way to their parked car that they arrived in as jeno helped you over to say your goodbyes.
"i'll text you soon, sweetheart," jaemin said, reaching out to touch your shoulder. a tipsy smile rounded your lips, but jeno deftly tilted you backward before jaemin's hand could even graze you. to any casual observer, it might've seemed like he was simply stabilizing you, but that was far from the truth. in reality, after nearly three excruciatingly long hours of watching you entwined with another man, he can no longer endure even the faintest whisper of jaemin's hands upon you.
after exchanging brief farewells with jaemin and karina (who had an almost imperceptible but clearly present smirk on her face), jeno paused. before he fully walked away and towards his car, he leaned in close to jaemin, just out of your earshot, and muttered, the muscles of his jaw tensing noticeably. "this was a one-time thing. trust me, she's not that interested in you. so move on." jaemin's eyes widened, but his discombobulated brain couldn't even form a proper response before jeno was already turning away, striding across the parking lot with you in his grasp. was any of that true? no. were you actually interested in jaemin? from what he witnessed while on the date, yes. but jeno didn't care. he refused to let this thing between you and jaemin blossom, which would undoubtedly oblige him to endure more instances of flirtatious tomfoolery between you two.
he then opens the passenger door and helps you inside, reaching over you to buckle you in, his large, warm fingers brushing your waist. the accidental contact sends a tingle up his spine, making him swallow deeply in order to collect himself and his unexpectedly improper thoughts. he closes the door and rounds the front of the car to the driver's side, slipping inside and clicking his buckle in as well.
jeno pulls out of the parking lot, observing with mild disgust and annoyance as you roll down your window to wave goodbye to jaemin and karina as the car passes them, and before you can blow a kiss to jaemin, jeno extends one hand from the steering wheel towards the window control panel on his left, swiftly pulling up on the switch for the passenger window, rolling it up.
you turn to frown at jeno, eyebrows furrowed and your bottom lip jutting out slightly in a pout. it would've been a cute sight if he wasn't already brimming with cutting envy and aggravation. "what's your deal tonight? if you told me you were gonna be in such a pissy mood all evening, then i would have just gone on the date alone, with only me and jaemin," you uttered. the words only further fueled the flame that was scorching him from the inside, and he blabbered out something bitter in reply.
"yeah, of course, and then there would be no one there to stop you from making the moronic decision of jumping his bones on the first night, right?"
your face wrinkled with ire, and you sat up straight despite the alcohol, clearly wired up now from his jab at you and your practices with men you talk to. your voice increased in volume as the hostility between you two blanketed the car in suffocating intensity. "oh, really?" you exclaimed. "and who the hell are you to fucking sit here and dictate who i can and can't sleep with?" he went rigid. he didn't have a clear answer to that without revealing the depth of his feelings for you.
he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and extinguished the blistering fire that had begun to engulf his insides, softening his tone. "i'm just looking out for you. i don't want idiots who don't even understand your worth to constantly have access to you... or your body," he breathed. as the words left his lips, he knew they skirted perilously close to the truth.
but clearly, his tone quieting didn't fully appease you the way he'd hoped. the alcohol in your system has made you especially susceptible to your emotions, and they were rapidly taking over for the still remaining twenty minutes of the drive back. the volume of your voice only increased and you spat back, "looking out for me? don't sit here and fucking bullshit me, jeno - you've never said shit about who i have sex with before. so why the hell are you suddenly in my business?" jeno gritted his teeth together at the honesty of your words. it was true, of course. he had rarely let himself bring this topic up and how much it frustrated him, but his composure was evaporating now. the weight of it was pressing down on his chest, trying to smother him in his own love for you.
meanwhile, you weren't entirely unaffected, either. for quite some time now, something had always been twisting your chest whenever jeno was near. a strange, incessant ache that shrunk you like a wrung-out cloth. it happened whenever you felt his hands unintentionally brush your skin, whenever you felt his eyes on you when you weren't looking, only for him to turn away the moment you glanced back his way. it frustrated you to no end, this inability to decipher him. how one second he seemed completely fine with your quest for finding the right guy, encouraging even, while the next he was disapproving of it all, snapping at you and calling your choices idiotic. the inconsistency made your head spin.
his temper was rising again as well, knuckles whitening as his fingers clutched the steering wheel like he was fighting not to rip it off. "because i can't fucking stand it," he growled. "i can't sit there and watch you throw yourself at him all night, let him touch you, kiss your neck like he has any right to. it makes me sick to my stomach, i mean, god damn it, sunshine, he doesn't even know you! you don't know him, and he deserves none of the privileges that you're simply handing to him, god, i just-" he cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath, pressing his lips together.
the car was plunged into a weighty silence for several long seconds. your head snapped to look at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. your eyes burned into his side profile - that sharp jawline that you had privately dreamt of kissing. lower still, they drifted to that prominent bob of his adam's apple, that you had regularly imagined of dragging your nose along just to drown yourself in that masculine, musky scent of his. the bitterness in your tone was now laced with something much more deeply rooted in your friendship with jeno: hurt, confusion... yearning. "then why don't you ever say anything? why do you always do this, act all supportive of me getting to know other men and then randomly lose your shit on a random tuesday?"
jeno didn't answer. he didn't know how to without ripping open a door he wasn't ready to walk through. he didn't want to lose you. the fear of shattering the fragile balance of your friendship, trust, company... it's all that kept circulating in his mind. so, he remained silent throughout the rest of the drive to your apartment. however, you continued to fire off pointed arguments every few minutes, your annoyance and exasperation only fueled further by his stubborn silence. finally, he pulled into the parking spot right outside your building, and the second the car was parked, you unbuckled yourself and stormed out, with jeno trailing right behind. you flew up the lobby stairs and to your door, keys already in hand as you continued to complain. it was clear you were planning to resume this feud inside.
you shove the keys inside the keyhole and twist sharply, pushing the door open as your voice continues to cut through the air, jeno's large frame looming close behind you. "i mean, you have to fucking cooperate, jeno!" you snapped, irritation pouring out of you in large heaps. "i'm trying my best to understand what the hell is going on inside your head, and you just—"
he doesn't let you finish your sentence. the second the door shuts, he locks it and grabs you by the shoulders, walking you backwards until your back is flattened against the wall, leaving you trapped between the white surface behind you and his tall, muscular body in front of you. his pitch is much lower than it was in the car, rougher in a different way. not anger... but want. it made your stomach flip with something like excitement and pure desire. he's never once spoken to you like this. not the supportive, caring, loyal jeno you've grown to know. this version of him was entirely new, and you were shameless enough to like it.
"you wanna know what the fuck is going on in my head? huh?" his eyes bored into you with something you could only describe as raw hunger. "you really want me to say it? fine." his grip on your shoulders tightened, bordering on a sting. "i'm jealous, alright? I'm so fucking jealous of every single goddamn guy that you've gone on dates with, slept with, and spent any of your precious time with. why? because i want it. i want you. all for myself, every fucking piece."
you stood there and blinked at him with wide eyes, heart pounding so hard that it feels as though it's going to leap out of your chest and land right in his palms. his gaze softens somewhat when he sees your dumbfounded expression, and he drops his forehead to yours, breathing in your scent properly for what's probably the first time ever. he murmured, "i'm sorry for not telling you until now, i know, it's a stupid, stupid thing for me to hide it from you. i just... god, i just didn't want to lose you, and now i don't know if i already have—"
now it was your turn to cut him off. rising onto your toes to reach his mouth, your lips silencing his with a passionate kiss. it froze him for a good few seconds. then the dam shattered, and his larger, calloused hands abandoned your shoulders and tumbled into your hair, moving his lips against yours like he's been craving for the taste of you since the moment he first laid eyes upon you. the dominance of him is almost overwhelming as he caught your lower lip between his teeth, demanding entry. the instant your lips parted, his tongue swept inside and began tangling with yours.
you moaned into his mouth, fingers curling into his shirt as he pressed you harder against the wall, his strong body molding perfectly against yours. you can't remember the last time you felt this intoxicated by a man's touch. one of his hands left the strands of your hair to grip your thigh, hoisting it high around his waist as he ground himself against you, causing another soft whimper to roll off your tongue, which he was currently devouring. you could feel the growing tent in his jeans, which was only making your head swim with more indecent thoughts.
he broke the kiss briefly, only to trail his hot, open mouth along the line of your jaw and neck, making your head fall back against the wall and your lips part in a noiseless gasp. "fuck..." he pressed his nose to your neck, inhaling that heady, exquisite fragrance that always clung to you like it was your natural essence. he rasped against your skin, muttering, "you have no idea... just how many times i've dreamt of this. of you." he sounded desperate. like he doesn't know how to contain his passion for you now that he finally had you at his mercy. his hips twitched against yours, silently imploring for any kind of friction as his hand slipped under your dress, fingers poking into the silky smooth skin of your inner thighs.
"please," he whispers huskily between kisses placed to the delicate skin of your throat. "let me have you. i'll make you feel so good, i'll show you just how much i've longed for you—just, please. my gorgeous, gorgeous girl..." his hips still subtly rolled against yours, as if he was hardly holding himself back.
and how could you say no to him when he's pleading so pretty?
your fingers gently twisted the satiny strands of his hair that were fragrant with something fresh and citrusy like mint lemonade. you buried your nose into his hair, immersing yourself into his scent as you hummed against his locks, "then have me, jen. because god knows i've wanted you, too."
he lifts his head for his eyes to meet yours, irises sparkling with something like pleasant surprise and trust. he chuckles, shaking his head as if this situation is one of the most ridiculous circumstances he's ever caught himself tangled up in. "jesus, we are both so fucking stupid and blind."
and then his mouth slammed onto yours again, like any ounce of human etiquette had leaped out the window, leaving an unbridled, primal sense of want that was overriding any other emotion in his body. he lifted you off your feet, both large hands on the underside of your thighs as he carried you to your bedroom. he laid you down on your bed. the same bed that he had sat on many instances prior to this moment, while you ranted to him about another disappointing interaction with a man. all while he was battling not to strip you bare and show you how satisfactory he could really be for you.
his lips attached onto your pulse point and sucked, tongue flicking and teeth nipping gently. it made your back arch just slightly off the bed as you felt your panties clinging to your heat, which was becoming dewy with your juices. and as if he just had some kind of hunch on how damp you were growing because of him, he chuckled almost mockingly, warm palms sliding up your thighs and pushing up your dress.
"are you getting wet already, pretty? is that all it took for you? hmm?" he spread your legs to make room for himself, before his vision fell to the expanding wet spot on the center of your pink, cotton lace trim panties. his breath caught at the sight as he let out a shaky exhale. you felt so exposed - your face was reddening with warmth and your eyes had already gone cloudy despite him barely doing anything to you yet.
he gently reaches one finger between your legs and gently moves aside the strip covering your wetness, revealing your dripping, aching folds to his eyes. he lets out a broken, needy sound at the display - a mix between a low groan and a whimper. he curls that finger and slowly drags the undergarments all the way down your legs, tossing it somewhere, forgotten on your bedroom floor.
he brings his face closer to your heat, breath fanning on your oversensitive flesh as he trailed kisses up your inner thigh with as much patience as he could muster in this moment.
"my god, baby... you can't even fucking fathom how beautiful you are right now.."
you could barely process the flush his words were producing on the apples of your cheeks before you felt his lips press against you, making you choke out a soft gasp. he snickers at how effortlessly he pulls those lovely noises from you. he prefers to believe that none of those other assholes you were involved with got to you as much as he does. i mean, the proof is right here, isn't it?
he begins to place heated, open-mouthed kisses on your pussy, each one provoking a small shiver to ripple through you. then his tongue sweeps through your slit, all the way from bottom to top. it tugged a soft, needy whine from the back of your throat. your fingers hurried to grasp at his locks in between your legs, hips rolling forward and subconsciously seeking more of his mouth.
"there you go, sweetheart," he murmured against you, the sound delivering vibrations through your cunt, only adding to the ecstasy. "doing so good f'me.."
each filthy praise and desperate murmur that dripped from his lips like melted, drizzling honey only made you clench tighter around his tongue. he smirked against your soaked warmth, eyes flicking up to yours, which were half-lidded and pleasure-drunk. he knew what he was doing to you, and he fully intended on making you crumble for him like no other man had. and no other man ever will.
the tip of his tongue began circling and flitting against your extremely sensitive bud, forcing your sounds to evolve from simple whines and whimpers to uncontrolled moans and gasps, back arching off your sheets. and then you felt your eyes roll back and an unbridled wail push past your lips when he applied suction to your clit, your fingers tugging at his hair.
"jeno, fuck—! oh my god..."
he only doubled his efforts at your cry, determined to unravel you completely. one of his thick fingers teased your entrance before fully sinking it inside you, wet tongue still lapping and sucking at your puffy clit. the double sensation made a wave of blissful pleasure wash over you, making multiple whimpers of his name escape you.
and then he sped up. it felt less like he was doing it solely for your pleasure, and more like he himself was taking great delight in having your salty-sweet juices on his tongue.
another finger joined the one that was already curling inside you, scissoring to stretch you further. the tip of his tongue flicked faster against your swollen bud, your back arching and legs twitching. your hips began to buck and attempt to flee from his ministrations between your legs. so, his free hand reached up and placed one large palm in the center of your stomach, pressing down gently to stop you from slipping away. the pressure only made the tightening knot in your abdomen feel as though it was going to burst.
"don't move. i'm not done."
your sounds slowly became more high-pitched and frequent as you started to near your climax, fingers knotting into his hair and pulling as though he's currently your only anchor to this earth. he growl-hissed against your flesh at the sharp yank stinging his scalp, the feeling only spurring him on.
"j-jeno, oh my god... i'm gonna—!" you gasp.
jeno smirked darkly against your clit, still lapping at your clit like a pussy drunk man, a third finger teasing your dripping hole. he mutters the words hotly into your skin, which sends another shock of pleasure through your body. "think you can fit a third finger before you cum, baby? or is your pussy too tight for that?"
you were so close to your orgasm that you could practically taste it, and all that was spilling from you now were barely coherent babbles, broken whimpers, and frantic nods. he exhaled a laugh at your helplessness, the air blowing over your clit and only making your legs twitch once more. and then, one last flip of his tongue and a striking curl of his fingers sent you toppling over the edge. an intensely euphoric surge crashed into you as your orgasm hit: legs twitching, jaw going slack, digits plunging into his locks, all of it. jeno helped you ride through your climax, his movements slowing down so as to not overstimulate or pain you in any way.
after you come down from your high with your chest heaving and eyes fluttered shut, jeno finally withdraws from between your legs. his fingers slowly eased out from inside you as well, one final flutter of your walls punctuating his exit. when your heavy-lidded eyes do open, the sight that greets you is arguably filthier than the entirety of what he just did to you. holding your stare, he stuck his fingers, slick with your essence, into his mouth as he sucked them thoroughly. as if he couldn't bear to waste even a single drop of you.
you couldn't help but ask breathlessly, "been wanting to do that for a while, huh?"
his signature eye smile flashed across his features, the very one that makes him resemble an adorable Samoyed in human form. but right now, on him... it looked like pure, unadulterated sin. the condition he's in - hair mussed from your fingers, chin and mouth area still glistening with your juices, and his eyes, that remained utterly ravenous as they bored into yours. the sight alone made that familiar dampness in your core return, oozing out of your entrance in small driblets.
and then came his voice, raspy and slightly hoarse, and it sent a new jolt of fresh want gushing through your thumping veins.
"for a really long time, sweetheart. and it was better than any fantasy of mine."
he hooked his arms beneath your thighs and pulled you close, until you were pressed snugly against him. he leaned down, face hovering just above yours as his voice came out in a wanting, husky murmur, "and now all this... it's got me so hard, it hurts," he hoarsely declared. "fuck, baby, it really hurts. you'll help me, won't you? please.."
it was his indirect, almost bashful way of seeking permission to take things further than his mouth's devotion to you alone. he was undoubtedly pining for more, his body trembling almost imperceptibly above yours in sheer necessity. yet the way his eyes search yours makes it crystal-clear that he'd instantly stop if it was too much for you. even amidst his ardent lust, jeno's care and affection for you outweighed it all.
however, you found it absolutely ludicrous that he had even a shroud of doubt of your want, primarily because the amounts in which your arousal was dripping out of you and beginning to pool onto your sheets in a mortifyingly obvious stain should've been enough. but of course, jeno needed explicit consent. what a gentleman.
so you nodded, eyes still glassy with unsatisfied desire. you wanted to go further, perhaps even more than he did. you breathed, "yes.. yes, i want to. please?"
and holy shit, that was all he needed to hear. jeno's lips descend upon yours with zealousness, one hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you nearer while the other deftly pops open the buttons of his jeans and tugs the zipper downward. he shoves both the denim and his boxers down his hips impetuously. his throbbing length bounds free from the confines of fabric, slapping his abdomen as he yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor.
his eyes never leave yours as he strokes himself once, then twice, lining himself up to your opening before slowly pushing the mushroomy head inside. your walls immediately clench around him at the intrusion, eliciting a choked-off, squeaky gasp from you. he groans raggedly, one hand on your thigh to spread you wider for him as the other rests adjacent to your head on the sheets to keep him upright. in one more brisk movement, he's fully sheathed inside of you, his hold on your thigh tightening as he lets both of you adjust to the sensation.
"fuck, you're tight, baby—oh my god. gonna make me cum..." he mewled into your ear.
jeno babbled filthy praises and whimpers of pleasure continuously, beginning to rock into you slowly. his thrusts gradually began to accelerate, alongside his rants, which were becoming more frequent and lewd. however, you couldn't find any awareness in you (besides the extreme feelings of pleasure) to reply, so you laid there, twitching and trembling while your whines and moans resounded in the air. every drag of his cock inside your narrow, gummy walls sent shocks of ecstasy up your spine, creating a beautiful arch of your back.
he was so graciously endowed in the dick department that you could feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix every other thrust, despite the fact that he wasn't going as deep as he could.
his hand slid up your spine to tangle in your strands, tugging on them gently to tilt your head back, baring the skin of your neck to him. he left a few hickeys in his wake as he spoke, "this pussy was made for me, baby, i swear... i can feel it in how well you fucking take me. no other man fit this well inside you, and i know it. say you know it, too."
you gabbled out an embarrassingly unintelligible response, too lost in ecstasy to even form any coherent words. he chuckled at this, his plunges into you becoming deeper, hitting your cervix more distinctly now.
"can't talk? feels too good?" the jerk had the audacity to fuck you stupid like this and then mock you for sounding like you've never spoken in your life. and of course, his thrusts only deepened as his hand reached down to toy with your clit.
"well, you're gonna have to speak if you want to come. so say—fuck—that you're mine. that this perfect pussy... every inch of it and of you, is mine and will never be anyone else's. and god, i'll give you anything and everything you want, i swear.."
you cried, "yours, jeno, f-fuck! all yours, please, yours.. w-wanna come, please, please..."
he pounds more relentlessly into you, losing himself to the tight wetness around him as his mouth devours yours. his thumb on your clit presses faster circles, propelling you to your peak. it was clear that you were both on the verge of orgasm, apparent with all the noises of bliss filling the room.
"j-jeno, i'm coming! i'm—"
in no longer than a few more seconds, a second orgasm crashes into you, your hands wrapping around his neck and pulling your chest to his as you moan and wail into his ear. jeno's hips slam into yours a few more times before he buries himself right to the hilt, crushing you against him as he groans deeply, letting his white, hot release pipe into you.
and then he melts completely. any trace of the slightly mocking, dominant, and harsh demeanor he used with you during sex dissipates immediately. you feel his warm lips brush against your cheeks, neck, forehead (where he lingers for a moment.) your eyes are fluttered shut, limbs boneless and bordering on numb from the intense experience.
"you did really well for me, gorgeous. so, so good... all for me."
a few minutes pass like that, - arms and legs entangled with one another, lazy kisses and sweet words of affirmation. finally, he sits up slightly, tucking a couple sweaty strands of your hair sticking to your forehead back into place before softly murmuring, "did you mean what you said? that you'll be mine?"
your eyes flitted open, irises still hazy from the aftermath and swirling with something riskily close to love as you stare at him and nod.
"of course i meant that. i've liked you for a while now, i just never said anything because... well, i didn't know the extent of how you felt. i thought you viewed me as a friend, and i didn't wanna ruin that with you."
jeno lets out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head as he mutters, "and to think that this entire time i hid it from you because i thought the same exact thing. just a pair of dumbasses, both of us."
you both burst out into laughter, hugging each other tighter as he plants a few more kisses on the blue-purplish marks he left on your skin, mapping them like twinkling stars in the sky. he pecks his way up to your ear, which is when he whispers to you:
"i'll take you on a proper date soon. and then we can do this again for the rest of our lives."
you giggle softly, running a hand through his hair.
"possessive, are we?"
he doesn't look amused.
"okay, okay, god! fine, we'll date. loser."
he laughs and scoops you up from the bed, still planting kisses all over your face as he carries you to the shower, kicking the door open.
Summary: When your enemy-turned- roommate goes on a date one night, you're left to deal with your jealousy on your own. That is until Jaehyun returns home early and catches you mid act, his name spilling from your lips like a confession you never meant to make.
Genre: smut,enemies-to lovers, roommates- to lovers(?)
Word count: 4,718
Warnings: oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, self pleasure (fem), hair pulling, calling eachother names, banter/bickering, swearing, jealousy, both lowkey down bad
Taglist: @bridgertonletsgo
Author's note: This is written on 2 hours of sleep combined across multiple nights. And I keep finding new flaws each time I reread, but my brain is too fried to care anymore. Based on that bathroom part in the vcr at the fancon and my previous fic. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated as it helps me to keep writing. I hope you enjoy!
Dislaimer:This work is purely fictional. Any resemblance to real person(s) is used solely for creative and fictional purposes and should not be understood as factual representation.
The first problem was that your roommate moved out. The second problem was that rent was due in three weeks. The third problem was him.
Jeong Jaehyun.
At the time, you naively didn't even realise he would become the biggest problem of all.
You found out about your roommate leaving on a Thursday evening.
"I've got news," she announced.
You immediately knew something was up.
"Why do I feel like you’re gonna tell me something bad?"
She laughed nervously.
Because she was doing exactly that.
Apparently, her boyfriend had gotten a new apartment so they'd decided to move in together.
And she would be gone by the end of the month.
You looked at her dumbfounded.
Then you asked the only question that mattered.
"What happens to rent?"
The answer was exactly as awful as you'd expected.
The apartment wasn't cheap.
You could manage your half comfortably.
The full amount?
Not a chance.
So for the next two weeks, your life became one long search for a roommate.
You interviewed everyone.
Students.
Coworkers.
Friends of friends.
Even strangers from rental websites.
And every single one was somehow worse than the previous candidate.
One showed up forty minutes late.
One asked if you'd mind sharing your room because "walls are kind of a social construct."
Like what the actual fuck?
One spent ten minutes explaining cryptocurrency eventho none of the questions you had asked him were about cryptocurrency.
It was safe to say that you were losing hope fast.
Then one afternoon you got a text from a mutual friend.
Hey. Weird question.
Do you still need a roommate?
Maybe...why?
Jaehyun needs somewhere to stay.
You stared at the message almost offended.
Then immediately typed back.
Absolutely not. I'd rather die.
The response came seconds later.
He said you'd say that.
Of course he did.
You'd known each other for years.
Not by choice exactly, but because somehow, he was always present in your life one way or the other. It started with mutual friends then came the mutual events and it blossomed in mutual annoyance. And every encounter somehow ended in an argument.
You couldn't stand him.
He couldn't stand you.
At least that was what you told yourself.
Then your friend sent another message.
He's desperate.
You almost laughed at the text but then looked around your apartment, and remembered your bank account. And quickly came to the realisation that you had no right to laugh at him when you were on the verge of ending on the streets yourself if you didn't find a roommate soon.
A deep sigh left you.
The kind of sigh people made before making life-altering mistakes.
Fine. He can move in next week.
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The first time Jaehyun stepped into the apartment, he looked around like he was inspecting a crime scene.
"This is smaller than I expected."
"You can leave."
He chuckled.
"You haven't changed."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It wasn't."
You rolled your eyes.
"Whatever."
He grinned wider.
Your friend watched the interaction.
"Wow."
"Wow what?" you asked.
"I forgot how much you two hate each other."
"We don't hate each other."
Jaehyun looked at you.
And you looked back.
A beat passed.
"Yeah, no I definitely hate him."
He scoffed.
"Good. I'd hate to be all alone in this."
Your friend buried her face in her hands, already starting to regret her decision to help.
────────────────────────────
Living together started exactly how you'd expected.
Terrible. No, more than just terrible.
The arguments were immediate.
Who used the last coffee pod.
Whose turn it was to take out the trash.
Which television show to watch.
Whether cereal counted as dinner.
It definitely did.
Jaehyun insisted it didn't. There was no "real" nutrition in it, apparently. Eventho, you don't remember asking for his opinion.
The worst part was that he genuinely seemed to enjoy annoying you.
Especially because your reactions entertained him.
One morning, you walked into the kitchen half asleep.
Jaehyun was already there.
Leaning against the counter.
Coffee in hand.
Hair still messy from sleep.
You barely looked at him.
"Morning."
"Morning, sweetheart."
You stopped walking.
Slowly turned around.
"What did you just call me?"
His expression remained perfectly innocent.
"Sweetheart."
"Don't."
"Okay."
You relaxed. For exactly one second.
Then that smile appeared on his face. The one that told you how wrong it was to think he was actually going to stop.
"Morning, princess." He said, exaggerating the n for added effect.
You threw a napkin at him.
He looked delighted.
That should have been your warning.
Because after that it became a daily occurrence.
Sweetheart.
Honey.
Pretty thing.
Sunshine.
Baby.
Every ridiculous nickname imaginable.
Only for you.
Never for anyone else.
Which annoyed you to no end.
"You know," you said one afternoon, "one day somebody's going to punch you."
He looked up from the couch.
"Maybe."
"I hope it hurts."
He smiled.
"You volunteering?"
You hated how attractive his smile was.
You hated how attractive he was.
Actually, no.
You hated that you noticed in the first place. That was the actual dilemma.
Because somewhere along the way things had become complicated.
It started small.
A glance that lasted too long.
A laugh that sounded nicer than it should.
The realisation that you always knew where he was in a room.
The realisation that you looked for him.
And suddenly you were in love with your roommate.
Your infuriating, annoying, way too cocky, enemy of a roommate.
Which was a disaster, to put it lightly. Because Jaehyun clearly thought flirting with you was a game. A way to get under your skin. But nothing more.
Meanwhile, every teasing grin of his nearly killed you inside.
────────────────────────────
Three months later, things became somehow worse.
You had adapted to living together.
Which was dangerous.
Because now Jaehyun was woven into your routines.
You knew what time he woke up.
What coffee he bought.
What shows he secretly watched when nobody was around.
You knew he hummed while cooking.
You knew he left cabinet doors open.
You knew he got grumpy when he was tired.
You knew entirely way too much.
One Friday evening you were met with a mouth watering smell as soon as you opened the front door.
It seemed like Jaehyun was cooking for once.
There was no way, right?
Following the delicious smell, you walked into the kitchen and looked over to the stove.
"What are you making?"
"Dinner."
"No shit, Sherlock."
"Then don’t ask if you already know."
He pointed a spoon at you.
"You know, conversations are usually easier when people don't start with stupid questions."
You scoffed.
“That’s a bold way to announce that you're too stupid to handle basic conversation.”
He laughed and just handed you a spoonful to taste.
You immediately froze.
Because he was suddenly very close.
Close enough to see every detail of his face. Close enough to feel the softness of his hoodie brush your skin. Close enough that your heart immediately started behaving like an idiot.
"Well?" he asked.
You quickly tasted it. "It's good... I guess."
His grin appeared. "Damn. Such high praise? I thought you'd spit it out."
"Don't get used to it."
"I think I will."
His lips curved into a smile when he got the last word in, and those irresistibly cute dimples made your heart skip a beat
God.
Oh God.
You were doomed.
────────────────────────────
A week later came the date.
You knew something was up with him all day, so when you walked into the living room, you were already prepared to be annoyed, but the sight in front of you nearly took you out.
Jaehyun was changing the middle of your living room, standing in front of the near full-length mirror. And you could swear you heard your brain shut down like those old Windows computers.
A white shirt was hanging loose from one hand while he stood there completely shirtless. Looking every bit like he walked straight out of your wildest dreams.
Endlessly broad shoulders on display. Those defined biceps, which you wanted to take a bite out of. A toned chest and a set of abs that looked like they belonged in a fitness ad instead of your living room.
You completely froze. And for one terrible second, your eyes lingered.
Then another second.
Then another.
His voice cut through the silence.
"Like what you see?"
You snapped your gaze upward.
He was already looking at you.
Smirking.
The worst part, tho?
He didn't seem embarrassed at all.
In fact, he looked delighted.
Absolutely basking in delight.
Your face heated immediately.
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh, I'm not." His grin widened.
"Your expression is doing all the flattering for me."
You scoffed and tried to walk past him.
Unfortunately, that required getting closer.
Which only made you notice things you definitely didn't want to notice.
The definition in his shoulders.
The way his arms flexed as he casually held the shirt.
The absolutely unfair muscle definition across his stomach. All the way down to his v-line that was dangerously peeking out...
You looked away so fast your neck almost hurt.
A low laugh escaped him.
"There it is again."
"There is what again?"
"That look."
"There is no look."
"Right." He nodded. "And you weren't staring at my abs thirty seconds ago."
You cleared your throat in a desperate attempt to play it nonchalantly.
"I was not staring."
"You absolutely were."
"I was distracted."
"By my abs."
"No!"
"By my shoulders, then?"
You hid your face in your hands, giving yourself away.
His eyes lit up immediately.
"Oh my God, it was the shoulders."
"Shut up."
He laughed.
Actually doubled over laughing at you.
The jerk looked impossibly pleased with himself.
"You know," he said, pulling on the shirt at an agonizingly slow pace, "for someone who claims to hate me, you spend a surprising amount of time looking at me."
You folded your arms.
"Trust me. Nothing about this changes the fact that you're insufferable."
"Mm." He buttoned another button.
"That's not denial."
You glared at him.
He grinned right back.
You let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on the couch, side eying him.
He looked back into the mirror, now finally dressed in that white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up neatly, displaying his delicious forearms, dark pants, his hair styled up instead of being in his eyes like usual. And he'd decided to wear cologne.
The exact same one that turns you into a mess everytime he wears it.
It's enough not to be overwhelming.
Yet just perfectly enough to make you painfully aware of it.
Your stomach twisted.
Because he looked good.
Really good.
Unfairly good.
Jaehyun noticed you staring again. And a slow smirk crept back on his handsome face.
"Take a pic. It'll last longer."
You looked away immediately, ignoring his words.
"Why are you dressed like that?"
His grin widened once again.
"Like what?"
"You know exactly what."
Jaehyun made eye contact through the mirror as he adjusted his cuff,
"I've got a date."
Your stomach dropped completely.
A date. Right. Why wouldn't he...
He was attractive, charismatic when he wanted to be, and infuriatingly good at making people like him, so it was only a given that he had dates lined up for him.
You forced a shrug.
"Poor girl."
His mouth twitched.
"Jealous?"
"In your dreams."
He laughed.
"You wish I was."
That was all you managed.
"Oh?"
Jay tilted his head.
"You sound disappointed."
You scoffed.
"In your dreams."
"Mhm."
You rolled your eyes to convince him, or maybe convince yourself.
"Have fun." You said, even if the words tasted like ashes in your throat.
His gaze lingered on you.
Longer than necessary.
Then his grin returned.
"Try not to miss me too much, princess."
"Get out."
He left, laughing at your frustration all the way out the door.
But this time, the sound didn't give you the usual butterflies. Instead, it felt like a knife slowly being twisted inside of you.
Jaehyun wasn't yours.
He never had been.
He never would be.
So why did the idea of him going on a date make you feel sick?
You hated it.
You hated everything about it.
────────────────────────────
The apartment felt empty afterwards.
Annoyingly empty.
And the evening only seemed to drag on.
You watched half a movie, you couldn't focus. You opened a book, didn't read a word. You checked the clock, then, checked it again ten minutes later.
This was pathetic.
Absolutely pathetic.
You weren't jealous.
Why would you be jealous.
No, that definitely wasn't it.
You were—
Okay.
You were jealous.
A little.
Fine.
A lot.
Some girl was probably sitting across from him right now. Laughing at his stupid genius jokes. Looking at him the way you tried not to.
You tried distracting yourself again, but it didn't help. It's like your brain insisted on imagining things just to torture you.
Was he having fun?
Was she pretty?
Was she making him laugh?
Did she get to see that smile?
The one that made you fall in love with him the first time.
The thought made your heartache worse.
Hours kept passing. And you were becoming increasingly miserable.
By ten o'clock, you were stretched out on the couch, phone in hand, trying to scroll through social media, but every few minutes, your thoughts drifted right back to the same thing.
Him.
Specifically, the moment you'd walked into the living room earlier.
You groaned and dropped your phone onto your chest.
This was pathetic. Actually pathetic.
You pressed a pillow over your face.
You weren't supposed to notice things about him. You certainly weren't supposed to remember them hours later. And yet your brain kept supplying details without your permission.
His broad shoulders.
His strong arms.
His stupid abs that were way too unnecessarily defined.
Even the way he'd looked completely at ease standing there while you forgot how to function.
Heat crept up your neck.
You shifted on the couch.
"Seriously?" you muttered to yourself.
The memory should have faded by now.
Instead, it seemed to be getting worse.
Every time you remembered the look on his face when he'd caught you staring, your stomach tightened.
Not in a bad way, which was exactly the problem. A very, very annoying problem.
Why him? Of all people, why him?
The guy was insufferable.
Arrogant.
Smug.
Impossible.
And somehow that only made remembering his self-satisfied grin worse.
Your pulse kicked up at the thought.
You immediately sat upright.
"No."
Absolutely not.
You were not doing this.
You were not lying on your couch thinking about Jaehyun or his perfect body.
Unfortunately for you, telling yourself not to think about him only made his face appear in your mind again.
His laugh.
His teasing.
His deep voice.
A strange restless energy settled under your skin. So you stand up and walk to the kitchen. Get a glass of water. And sit back down, drinking the cold water in one go.
The coldness lasted approximately thirty seconds before your thoughts wandered right back to him.
"You're actually the worst," you informed the empty room.
But no matter what you did, he didn't leave your mind. So much so, it got you bothered.
And there was no way you could ignore it at this point.
Jaehyun wouldn't be back in a few hours if he got back at all tonight. So technically, you could do whatever you wanted right now.
It felt so wrong.
How could you think about him of all people like this? How could your own body betray you like this? But the ache between your legs only got worse the more you tried to reason.
So before you know it, your hands are gliding down your own body all the way until you reach the waistband of your shorts. You could still stop now. You should stop now, but the need for relief overtakes your senses.
The moment your fingers come in contact with your soaking cunt, you let out a deep moan.
"Mmmgh...fuck,"
Your shorts and panties are pulled aside just enough that you can feel the cold air in the apartment on your skin.
Your thoughts drift to how it would feel like to run your hands over his body as your fingers glide through your already soaked folds and you start circling your clit.
"Ohh...Jaehyun..."
The quickly forming puddle on the couch is the least of your concerns as you keep imagining how good he'd feel inside of you. How he'd fil you up just right. All the way until neither of you'd know where he ends and where you start.
The vivid images make your pussy clench around nothing. So you ease the ache by pushing two fingers gently inside and immediately curling them to hit that spot that makes your toes curl every time.
"Fuckk...hnngh"
You slowly push in and out, your cunt squelching at the pace. And you feel the obscene nosies mixed with your loud moans, bounce off the walls in the empty apartment. Making the whole thing feel even more wrong.
Yet so good.
You imagine how pretty his skin would look with your marks all over him. How his deep voice would sound in your ears when he's overwhelmed with pleasure. How good his body would feel against yours as he fucks you into the couch.
"Jaehyunnn...please,"
Your coated fingers desperately thrust into yourself to the thought of his cock twitching inside of you as you'd feel him get close. Which only makes the coil in your stomach tighten as you pick up the pace.
You're almost there already. The combination of your imagination and your movements are enough to bring you to the edge.
Almost-
"Please what, princess?"
For one horrible moment, you can feel your soul actually leaving your body as you lock up and register his voice at the same time.
No! You heard wrong. He isn't home. He can't be-
Slowly, you lift your head.
And to your absolute horror, Jaehyun is, in fact, standing by the doorway. One shoulder leaning against the frame and wearing that infuriating smirk across his face in pure delight.
Oh no.
No.
No no no.
You quickly pull up your shorts and try to hide yourself with a pillow.
"How- how long have you been standing there?"
His grin only widens.
"Long enough."
You wanted to disappear. Have the earth swallow you immediately and forever.
"I wasn't—"
"You were moaning my name."
"I wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
"I-"
"You missed me."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I didn't."
He walked over and leaned down slightly. Close enough that you could smell the cologne again. Close enough that your heart started acting up again.
"Princess," he murmured, clearly enjoying every second of this, "If you wanted me that badly, a little asking would’ve gone a long way."
Before you can react, he’s already on the couch, straddling you and trapping you there, his hands braced on either side of your head.
"Is this what you do when I'm not home?"
He grabs your hand, the same one you just used on yourself, and kisses up your wrist, whilst looking deep into your eyes.
"I- I don't-"
"You're such a bad liar, baby"
Slowly, he kisses up your hand, tongue flicking out to lick the same fingers you just used on yourself.
"Mhmm. How sweet."
You freeze, breath hitching as you stare at him in disbelief.
"That little act of yours—that so-called ‘hate’ you feel for me—isn’t really working, is it princess?”
You unconsciously press your thighs together, and his gaze darkens—something in his expression shifting in a way you’ve never seen before.
"You want me?"
Your breath catches.
"I asked you a question."
"...Yes."
"Yes, what? Use your words."
"Yes, I...I want you."
"But we shouldn't..." You start whispering, not because you didn’t want him. Because wanting him had become the only thing you could think about for months now.
His answer was quieter.
“I know.”
But he didn’t pull back. And you didn’t either.
His thumb brushed against your slightly parted mouth.
"I've wanted to taste these pretty lips for so long now..."
His eyes flicker up to yours, and you see the desperation in them.
"Tell me to stop before I lose my mind."
Unable to deny him—or yourself—any longer, you pull him in by the back of his neck and press your lips to his in a firm, decisive kiss.
The kiss doesn't begin gently.
It starts like something is breaking. Like months of restraint finally giving up at once, like every ignored glance and unfinished sentence collapsing into a single, undeniable moment. His hand rises to your face like he’s been waiting too long to remember he was always allowed to touch you. You, in turn, grab onto his shoulders as you deepen the kiss. His warm tongue glides across your bottom lip, and you instinctively open up as you both can't seem to get enough.
You'd imagined this so many times. To the point a part of you had started to believe the real thing could never live up to it. But the moment his lips met yours, every version you'd ever invented just vanished into thin air.
He slowly makes his way down your jaw, all the way to your neck, leaving behind little kisses like promises on your skin.
He looks up, searching for your eyes, "can I keep going?"
You nod immediately, too breathless to speak a word.
He smiles back at you before slowly settling between your legs.
His hands slide down your body. Over your the swell of your breasts, down your stomach and along your thighs.
"You're so beautiful..."
Jaehyun slowly pushes your thighs apart and gently yet firmly, starts pressing kisses on the inside of your thigh. Every kiss closer to where you wanted him the most. And he doesn't take long either before you feel his tongue licking a fat stripe over your shorts.
You gasp at the sensation.
Jaehyun smirks at your reaction before kissing up your core until he reaches the edge of your shorts. With quick hands, he removes the barrier between himself and what he wants. After making sure with you one last time.
You draw a sharp breath as the cold air hits your pulsing cunt for the second time that night. His fingers gently press into your thighs, keeping them apart.
A deep, unrestrained moan falls from his lips as he sees how worked up you already are.
"What a pretty princess, you are." he praises as he takes in the sight of your glistening pussy.
Jaehyun groans at the way you already start clenching around nothing. "You want it that badly, baby?"
That question makes you hide your face and instinctively try to close your legs as heat creeps up your neck. But Jaehyun’s hands shoot up immediately, holding them apart.
“Uh-uh, princess… don’t hide now. You were doing so well for me.”
The protest in your throat dies down the minute Jaehyun's mouth attaches itself onto your cunt. His smooth tongue flat against you, lapping up your dripping juices.
Fuck. He knew how to use it. It definitely wasn't his first time.
He matches every lick to every curve. And every flick to every angle. You squirm against his face, a hand inevitably reaching out to fist into his perfectly styled hair. And a soft whimper escapes your throat as you press him further into you, feeling a moan vibrate through your body whilst his nose brushes against your clit.
"Fuckkkk," you whimpered, gasping for air already as you look down at him.
And almost come on the spot at the sight of him.
His mesmerising, chocolate eyes, lock with yours as he pulls your legs over his shoulders and moves your hips as he dives in deeper. His mouth glistens with your juices, and a smirk locks back in place as he feels you get wetter by the second.
When you tug on his hair, he gives you a split second to breathe before resuming. Picking up his pace even more as continues to drink you, utterly obsessed by the way you taste. Like he'd never get enough. Like he could die happily as long as he could taste your sweetness.
Your breath catches as his tongue moves to your clit, circling and flicking firmly. "Jaehyun," you gasp, eyes closing at the overwhelming feeling.
He pulls back, chuckling at your state, lips swollen from his effort and your essence dripping down his chin.
"Look at you, baby. So lost for words. You’re usually impossible to shut up when you’re pretending you can’t stand me. Is this all it takes, princess? Just my mouth, and you're already a mess for me. You love it, don't you? This is exactly what you wanted isn't it?"
You shoot him a glare, which only seems to amuse him more. His smirk deepens as his teeth graze your clit, and you suck in a sharp breath.
"You fucker," you mutter.
The look in his eyes turns completely wicked as he stays perfectly still, purely to spite you. "Tell me you love it, and I'll make you see stars, baby"
You narrow your eyes and clench your teeth but can't help and give in, "yes, I love it. Jaehyun."
"That's a good girl."
And that's all it took for him. All he needed before he put his tongue back on you and sucked and prodded every bit of your cunt like there is no tomorrow. The burn of his scalp as your fingers kept tugging his hair only adding to his growing bulge.
The way your hips moved against his mouth, the way you kept pulling him in, the way your pussy only seemed to get better by the minute had him going crazy.
"Fuck, yes, Jaehyun!" you cried out, hips rolling up against his tongue, making him hum against your swollen folds.
Jaehyun couldn't stop. Like his fingers had been glued to your thighs whilst the wetness kept leaking from your pussy. You just tasted so fucking good.
Jaehyun whined as his tongue flattened over you, and he started to slurp all the juices before they could escape.
"Jaehyun...Oh God! Jaehyun!" you kept moaning, and the pit of your stomach started to coil up again.
Fuck. You were so close now.
Jaehyun said nothing, continuing his assault on your clit. Alternating between sucking and licking every few seconds, not wanting to miss a crevicle of your pretty pussy.
"Don't hold back, baby. Come for me,"
The moment those words left his mouth and you felt him adding a finger, you came undone. Your hips shaking against his face as your climax hit. Juices running down your thighs and to your ass, which he happily licked off.
The pleasure rushed through your body in pulses, leaving you seeing stars just like he promised you.
He only stops when you push him off and leans back wiping his mouth, looking at your blissed out state in satisfaction.
You’re still on the couch, trying to get your breathing back under control when you tell him,
“This doesn’t change anything.”
Jaehyun lets out a deep chuckle, like you’ve just told him a bad joke.
“You were singing a very different tune a second ago.”
“That was- That was just momentary misjudgment.”
“Oh? Was it now, my princess?” he murmurs, clearly not believing you.
He leans in again, catching your hands and pinning them above your head with infuriating ease. You shut your eyes on instinct, waiting for it—breath caught, heart already giving you away again.
But nothing happens.
Just as he brushes your lips, he pulls back.
You make a small, frustrated sound before you can stop yourself. His smirk turns cunning, like he was exactly waiting for that reaction.
He gets off you, already turning to his room.
“Come find me when you’re done pretending,” he says over his shoulder.
A pause.
Then, his voice drops dangerously lower,
"And I'll gladly make sure you and the neighbours never forget my name again."
Then he leaves with that calm, teasing certainty, like you’ve already been his this whole time, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to realize it—leaving you breathless and completely undone on the couch.
warnings & tags: smut, fluff, slight somnophilia, unprotected sex, sub (?? I HOPE I DID SUB RIKU JUSTICE) riku, oral (female receiving) … if i missed any tags let me know
a focused heat pressed against the inside of your thigh, followed by a sharp wet sound that pulled you from your dreams. your lashes fluttered open, the dim grey lighting of the early morning casted around you. the sheets were tangled around your legs, and the weight of a blanket was gone, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air of the bedroom.
another soft, slick sound caught your attention.
you shifted, a small movement, and warmth followed. your breath hitched as a pair of lips kissed where your thigh met your hip. a slow, open mouthed kiss. you didn’t need to look down to know who it was, your riku. his hair was a dark mess against your skin, he traced the line of your hip with his tongue, slow and deliberate, an act of devotion. your hands moved in his hair, anchoring yourself in the moment.
he hummed against your skin, before nuzzling his face deeper against you. his lips parted, the tip of his tongue flicked out tasting you, that sent a jolt straight to your core. he was so eager, so completely lost in his need to please you. he shifted lower, his shoulders pushing your legs further apart. there was no hesitation in his movements. his mouth found your folds, a soft broken sigh escaped your lips. he started slowly, his tongue tracing the seam with gentleness. it was slow and deliberate.
he flattened his tongue, lapping at your entrance with firm strokes that gathered your slickness and coated his lips. the wet, messy sounds filled the room. your fingers tightened in his hair, a silent encouragement. he moaned, the vibration shooting through your clit, and his movements became even more desperate. he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, the pressure made your toes curl.
he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice hoarse and breathless against your soaked folds. “please,” he murmured, the word muffled by your cunt. “i need to be inside you, please,” you looked down at him. his face was flushed, lips swollen and glistening with your cum. his eyes were blown wide with desperation, he loomed completely wrecked, so close just from tasting you. you gave a nod, too wrecked to say anything in that moment.
he scrambled up your body, his movements clumsy. he lined himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against you, as he waited. his whole body was trembling, he was holding back, waiting for your permission. “riku,” you breathed, lifting your hips to meet him. “please.”
that’s all it took, with a broken moan, he pushed forward. a slow deep stroke, the stretch was perfect almost overwhelming. he paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his body trembling as he fought for control. “fuck,” he choked out. “you feel so good. so tight.”
he began to move his hips, each thrust was deliberate. his composure was slowly straining. his pace quickened , his thrust becoming harder, more erratic. the sound of skin slapping against skin along with your shared moans and gasps filled the room.
“please,” he begged again, his voice cracking. “i’m so close. can i cum please? i need to fill you up. please?”, he babbled almost to himself it seemed. you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him deeper, meeting his powerful thrust with your own. “yes,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “cum for me.”
your words caused his undoing, he let out a strangled cry. his hips slamming into you one last time, you felt him pulse inside you. the feeling of him losing control pouring into you sent you trembling over the edge. your orgasm crashes over you, your cunt clenched around him, milking him for every last dropped he had to offer. he collapsed onto of you, his weight comforting. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing soft lazy kisses against your sweat-slicked skin.
“thank you,” he whispered. “god, thank you.”
riku’s weight settles as you stroked his hair, your body humming with deep satisfaction. the morning light casts along you both, his hands began to roam, his fingers tracing small patterns on your skin. “let me worship every inch of you.”
—
AN : LOWKEY I DON’T THINK I DID A GOOD JOB WRITING SUB RIKU … it’s more like riku worshiping reader but this is for @nctzenhwa ILY MWAH
(request) anon said: hiiii! i have an idea for a request! what about something with sweet and kind, rich girl y/n, and jisung, her new bodyguard? and y/n has a big crush on him, and ends up hooking up with him? but jisung mistakenly thought that she only wanted to have sex with him, and then y/n tells him that she really likes him! thank you so much! i hope this request is okay
bodyguard!jisung x rich girl!reader, smut, slow burn!! (i tried plek)
words-> 3k
content-> smut! (pretty vanilla), missionary, vaginal penetration, nothing too crazy, probably a lot of language mistakes, i'm really sorry i haven't been to school and i'm getting stupider with each passing day.
cami's notes at the end :3
The first time you saw him, you thought he was a statue carved from marble and shadow. He stood at the edge of your father’s study, a silent sentinel in a perfectly tailored black suit that enhanced his frame, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable.
Your new personal security detail, assigned after a series of vague, unsettling threats your father’s board deemed “necessary to address.”
"Park Jisung, at your service, miss y/n. It's a pleasure." He'd said while shaking your hand with cold efficiency and empty eyes, the moment your father introduced him to you as your new shadow and you sighed loudly.
Another bodyguard. Another shadow to remind you of the gilded cage your family’s fortune had built.
However, Jisung was different from the others.
They had been older, gruff, or overly indifferent. Jisung was young, his silence not servile but intense.
For three weeks, he’d been a silent monument. He was all sharp lines, icy elegance and his responses varied from a list of “Yes, Miss” and “No, Miss,” delivered in a low, steady baritone that gave nothing away.
He was a wall aimed to protect you from everything and anything, and you were the spoiled heiress on the other side, your world of art gallery openings and charity dinners seeming frivolous against his stoic professionalism.
Nevertheless, you were a chronic observer of people.
It was your habit, born from a life spent watching social interactions from behind a veil of wealth and expectation.
And so, you watched Jisung, and you saw it in his eyes.
You saw the way his stern facade cracked in tiny, almost invisible increments.
The slight, unconscious softening of his jaw when a puppy stumbled across your path and wanted you to play with him during a walk in the park, before being picked up by his owner.
The way his eyes, so guarded, would briefly flicker with something like wry amusement when you made a terribly dry joke to your friend over the phone, thinking he wasn’t listening.
His eyes, usually guarded and dark, held a glimmer of pure, unadulterated kindness. It was a flash of light in a deep well, a pure, gentle glow behind the professional gloom, and you found yourself leaning toward it like a sunflower desperate for dawn.
The crush started as a silly, secret warmth in your chest.
It grew with every small observation: the way he subtly adjusted his pace to match yours, never rushing you; the almost invisible smile that touched his lips when you successfully defused a tense donor meeting with your charm, the single time he’d called you by your actual name when you’d tripped on the stairs of a mall and his hand shot out to steady you, the contact electric and brief. It was in the single cup of tea he’d once placed beside your study notes at 2 AM, the exact way you liked it, without you ever having told him.
You began to manufacture reasons to be near him, asking questions about his past that were vaguely answered, offering him coffee that he politely but awkwardly refused, yapping about your day just to hear him give a low hum of acknowledgement.
₊˚⊹♡
The night it happened started with a charity gala that felt more like a prison sentence.
The whispers, the fake smiles, the weight of your diamond necklace feeling like a chain and the zipper digging into your ribs was enough to push you over the edge.
You plead your father with teary eyes to allow you to leave early, to which he only obliges as Jisung's the one who would take you home and watch over you the rest of the night.
Inside the car, a comfortable silence had settled between you and your bodyguard, a silence you’d come to cherish, but tonight it felt heavy.
The city lights blurred past your window, a smear of color against the dark canvas of the night. A lump formed in your throat, unbidden and unwelcome. The stress of the week, the gala, the whispers, the constant pressure, everything caught up to you, all at once.
Without warning, a tear escaped, tracing a hot path down your cheek.
Then another.
You quickly turned your head, staring out the window, hoping the darkness would hide your moment of weakness. You didn’t want him to see. You were supposed to be the boss's daughter, composed and untouchable, not some weepy mess.
But he saw.
The car glided to a stop at a red light.
Through your tear-blurred vision, you saw him shift in the rearview mirror. His dark eyes, usually a shield of professional indifference, were now fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He wasn't just looking…he was seeing.
“Do you ever get tired of it, Jisung?” you asked, wiping your cheeks, your voice quieter than intended. “Of just… watching?”
He was silent for so long you thought he wouldn’t answer. “It’s my job to watch, Miss,” he finally said, his voice low. “But I don’t always get tired of what I see.”
The air in the car changed. It became charged, thick with everything unsaid.
When you arrived at your excessively big house, he did his usual sweep.
“Everything’s secure, Miss,” he announced, appearing at the entrance of your bedroom door.
You turned, your heels feeling impossibly high. "Thank you, Jisung."
"You're welcome, miss." In a gesture to leave, you take him by the wrist, gripping lightly. His usually cold eyes that stare at you from above, spark with confusion as he turns to look at you.
The silence stretched, taut and humming. You took a hesitant step toward him, then another. His eyes tracked your every move, the muscle in his jaw working, he stood perfectly still.
"I feel safe when you're here," you whispered, the admission feeling both terrifying and freeing.
His composure, for the first time, faltered. He looked away for a fraction of a second, a brief but telling break in his armor. When he met your gaze again, something raw and vulnerable shimmered in their depths.
"I shouldn't want to make you feel anything else, miss" he breathed, the words a confession and a warning all at once. He took a half-step back, creating space, a clear line in the sand. "It's not appropriate." Willing to leave again, your slim fingers grip his wrist harder.
“Please, stay,” you whispered. It wasn’t a command from an employer. It was a plea from a woman.
He froze, his back to you. You saw the muscles in his shoulders tense. “Miss, I shouldn’t…”
“Please. Just… not tonight. Don’t leave me alone with all this silence.” You stepped closer, your hand trembling as you reached out, your fingers now brushing the leather of his suit jacket.
He turned back around slowly, his face a war of conflict. The professional mask was gone, replaced by something pained, something yearning. “You don’t know what you’re asking for...”
“Yes, I do,” you breathed, emboldened by the raw emotion in his eyes. “I’m asking you to stop being my bodyguard for five minutes.”
For a long, agonizing moment, he just looked at you. Then, with a shuddering breath that seemed to take all of his strength, he raised a hand. His fingers, slightly calloused, gently, hesitantly, cupped your cheek and you leaned into it. The pad of his thumb brushed away a stray tear you hadn't realized had fallen.
“Just for five minutes,” he whispered, leaning in until your breaths mingled. He closed the remaining distance, and then his lips were on yours.
The kiss wasn't what you expected. It wasn't hesitant, it was desperate and deep, a release of weeks of pent-up tension, a silent acknowledgment of every glance and every unspoken word.
His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, the expensive fabric of your dress and the rough wool of his suit a strange but perfect contrast.
He tasted of mint and the moment your tongues met, a soft whimper escaped your lips, a sound he swallowed with a hungry groan.
He backed you up until your legs hit the edge of your vanity, lifting your figure to sit; the marble cool against your bare skin, none of you caring of the few perfumes and beauty products that fell right into the carpet with a soft thud.
His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your spine, the line of your jaw, as if he were trying to memorize you through touch alone.
He wasn’t a statue anymore; he was a man, warm and solid and real, and he was here, in your room, kissing you as if his life depended on it.
"Take this off...all of it, please Jisung..." You pleaded against his lips and he obliged, his hands found the zipper of your gown, his knuckles grazing the skin of your back.
Hooking your fingers into the knot of his tie, pulling it loose with a single, decisive tug. The silk slithered through your fingers as you tossed it aside.
With a shaky breath, he slowly pulled the zipper down. The dress pooled at your hips, leaving your upper half bare and under the dim glow of the city lights that filter through your window.
He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over you, raw and unfiltered. The look in his eyes wasn't just desire, it was reverence, as if he were looking at something priceless and breakable.
Then he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. His hands splayed across your ribcage, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. Your own hands were busy, working the buttons of his shirt, your fingers fumbling in haste.
When his shirt was open, you pushed it off his shoulders, your palms flattening against the hard planes of his chest. He was warm, so warm, and you could feel the steady, rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch.
He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to your bed, gently laying you down against the silk sheets. He settled over you, his weight a welcome anchor, and you arched into him, craving more.
His lips left yours, trailing a path of fire down your neck, across your collarbone. He paused, looking up at you, his face shadowed but his eyes burning.
“y/n,” he breathed, your name a prayer on his lips. It was the second time he’d said it, and this time, it sounded like forever.
Your hand found the one resting against your ribs, your fingers intertwining with his. That was all the encouragement he needed to take one of your breasts into his mouth.
Tongue drawing circles on your nipple, wet and hot from his shaky breaths that tickled your skin.
A soft gasp escaped your lips as your back arched off the bed, pushing yourself further into his mouth. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
He lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between them, his hands exploring the curves of your hips, the dip of your waist. He was memorizing you, committing every inch of your body to memory, as if he knew this was a fleeting moment, a stolen dream that would shatter with the morning light.
“Jisung…” you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him to you. “Please…”
He lifted his head, his eyes dark with a need that mirrored your own. “Please what, y/n?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” you breathed, the words a raw confession. “All of you.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if her words were both a gift and a curse. When he opened them again, the last remnants of his control had vanished.
He stripped the damp panties off your body, the fabric whispering against the skin of your legs as he slid them down. Long fingers slowly tickling your wet folds, earning a high pitched moan.
"You ready, miss y/n?" He teased as his own hands ripped his own clothes swiftly, stroking his length one, two, three times.
Your head reaching to take a good look at him, completely hard, so much it looked like it hurt a little. A few veins decorate his length, from his shaft to his flushed red tip, leaking just for you. He was beautiful, your mouth watering just by the sight of it.
"Just...put it inside, Jisung, please..." your legs open wide for him, heels pulling him closer by his lower back.
"Are you sure?" He asked, a final, desperate attempt at self-control. The tip of him nudged against your entrance, then went back and forth to get it nice and wet.
With a groan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he entered you, slow and deliberate. Your heels pushing his hips to get him all the way inside.
The world narrowed to the feeling of him inside you, a perfect, aching fullness that stole your breath. He paused, giving you a moment to adjust, forehead resting against yours, and his breath mingling with yours.
“You feel…” he started, but the words seemed to fail him. He just shook his head, a look of pure wonder on his face.
You answered him by rolling your hips, a silent invitation. Your soft hands on his full cheeks give him no choice but to kiss you.
He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that built a fire in your blood. His hands gripped your hips, holding you to him as he thrust deeper, harder. The sight of his abs tightening with every thrust along with the tingles on your belly every time his tip kissed a spongy spot inside you, turning you into a babbling mess.
The sounds of skin against skin, soft pants, and your shared moans filled the room, a raw, primal symphony that eclipsed the city lights outside your window.
He shifted his angle slightly, hips rubbing back and forth and purposely angling, you cried out, pleasure spiking through you. He did it again, hitting that spot deep inside that made your toes curl. Your nails dug into each side of his neck, holding on as the pressure built, a wave rising, threatening to pull you under.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, dark and intense, filled with a desperate, consuming need. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”
His words were your undoing.
The wave crashed over you, a blinding, shattering release that left you trembling and breathless. A string of curses mixed with his name fell from your lips as your body convulsed around him.
He followed you over the edge with a hoarse cry, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he found his own release, pulsing inside you.
"Kiss me Jisung, please..." Your hands pulling him into a messy kiss, lips wrapping his tongue into your mouth. Sloppy and desperate, the need to melt into only one soul bigger than your sanity. He answered by kissing you with raw hunger.
Your hands roam on his hair, the damp strands a tangible proof of the intensity you had just shared.
Everything felt numb, your mind dizzy by the surprising softness of his plump lips, the hard planes of his body that held you as if you might break.
You fell asleep wrapped in his arms, in the scent of him and the shared feeling charged with loving intimacy that you’d never thought could ever happen.
₊˚⊹♡
The morning light felt cruel. You woke to find him already dressed, back in his suit, standing by the window. The distance he had put between you was a physical chill.
“Jisung?...” you murmured, sitting up, the sheets pooling around you.
He didn’t look at you. His profile was the statue again, hard and impenetrable. “The car will be ready in thirty minutes for your brunch, Miss.” he stated, his voice flat, professional.
Your heart sank. “Last night…”
“Was a mistake,” he finished, finally turning. His eyes were shuttered, the light you adored completely snuffed out. “It won’t happen again. I apologize for my… lapse in judgment.”
A lapse in judgment.
The words were daggers. He thought it was just a transaction, a rich girl’s bored experiment.
Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You got out of bed, pulling the sheet around you, facing him not as your employee, but as the woman who had given him everything. “You think that’s what this was?” you asked, your voice surprisingly steady.
“It…it’s what it usually is.” he stammered, his tone implying a world-weary knowledge you hated.
Anger, hot and fierce, mixed with the crushing ache of rejection.
You walked right up to him, hand on his cheeks that forced the cutest pout, forcing him to look down at you. “You see everything, Jisung. You notice the brand of my tea, the way I tap my pen when I’m anxious, the specific streetlight that flickers outside my old dorm window. But you are so, so blind.”
His jaw tightened, a flicker of confusion breaking through his stoicism.
“I didn’t hook up with you because I was bored or because you’re here…” you said, each word deliberate, fueled by a year of silent adoration. “I did it because when I look at you, I don’t just see my bodyguard. I see the man who smiles at puppies, I see the man who remembers I hate the sound of violins. I see you! You, Jisung!, and I have fallen, completely and utterly. I like you, Jisung. I really like you. Not for a night. For every night after.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The professional mask crumbled, piece by piece, revealing sheer, unadulterated shock. He stared at you as if seeing you for the very first time, his breath caught in his chest.
The pure, gentle light you adored flooded back into his eyes, brighter and more vulnerable than you’d ever seen it. He’d built walls to protect himself from a world that saw him as a tool, but in your confession, he found a key he never knew existed.
Slowly, as if moving through a dream, he raised a hand, his fingers brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. His touch was infinitely tender.
“A lapse in judgment,” he repeated, his voice now a rough, awed whisper. “But not mine. Mine was in thinking… I could never be worthy of that light in your eyes.”
₊˚⊹♡
haiiii, it's my first request!! i was soooo excited to finally post it!! i really hope you like it and that it's good enough D: !!
let me know if there are maaaaany mistakes, or the ones that stand out to y'all, i'm open to feedback bc i really want to get better at writing :,3 but do nawt make fun of me i'm sensitive ok
hope you enjoyed it!! let me know if you did!! thxs for readiiiing :3
we don’t hesitate to draw the line, you still send shivers down my spine
/// arrows in action, corner of your mind
pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader
summary: sometimes love and hate exist on opposite ends of the map. other times, on separate floors of the same building.
genre: ex!yeonjun / enemies to lovers au / neighbour au
warnings: slow burn, mutual pining & yearning (it got worse), strong language, some suggestive themes, tons of ill-advised flirting, fluff (wtf), little shit!jjun, anddd we’re back to characters being in denial (jk we never left)
words: 14.4k
[ ! ] this is a sequel to equilibrium
masterlist / read from the beginning
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 4, 2026. 7:45 PM
Yeonjun held the door of his Mercedes open for you, ignoring the five times you’d told him to stop fussing and just get in the car—ignoring, as well, the five other times you’d pointed out that you could just catch a cab.
“I’m the cab,” he declared, gesturing inside again, more insistently. “And we’re going the same way anyway. Come on.”
With a sigh, you ducked inside.
He was glad you did. He feared he was not above begging.
The interior of his car smelled exactly as it had last year: cedarwood from the air freshener clipped to the dashboard, laced with something faintly spicy underneath. The leather seats felt as lush as you remembered, too.
You expected it to feel strange to sit here again. Instead, it felt a bit like tuning in to a film that you’d dropped halfway through some time ago: familiar and surprisingly enjoyable. Enough to drop what you were doing and stand in front of the screen with your hands on your hips.
The door of the car shut with a muted thud.
Outside, the last traces of daylight were still visible on the horizon, glowing red above the distant treetops. The rest of the city had already surrendered to the night. Cars filled the small parking lot bumper-to-bumper, wedged into every impossible gap. Yeonjun had to squeeze past a red Mazda as he rounded the car.
He slid into the driver’s seat with a soft exhale. The engine purred awake, as smooth as always.
It brought an involuntary smile to your lips.
He caught it immediately. “What?”
You shook your head. “Nothing.”
“See,” he said, one corner of his lips lifting, “I don’t believe that’s true.”
“Drive.”
“Seatbelt.”
You pulled the seatbelt across your chest. It clicked pleasantly beside the seat.
Satisfied, Yeonjun adjusted the rear-view mirror and eased away from the kerb. Streetlights spilt through the windows, sliding across the gold satin of your dress in ribbons of amber and white as the car rolled down the street.
It was captivating.
Not staring at you for the entire drive, he realised, was going to be a significant challenge.
Your dress reminded him of a film poster he’d seen years ago, in the lobby of Taehyun’s old theatre, for a Dorothy Arzner film. It showed a woman draped in gold, standing before a stage curtain with outstretched hands. He’d only noticed the poster because it had been enormous; he’d never actually seen the film.
He wanted to watch it now.
“Are you sure taking your car to Nara’s dinner is a good idea?” you asked, your voice cutting neatly through the mud in his thoughts.
Yeonjun dragged his attention back to the road and merged into traffic. There was a strong scent of petrol in the evening air.
“Yeah,” he said, glancing reflexively at his dashboard. “M’not drinking tonight.”
You angled your head towards him, surprised. “How come?”
He released a deep sigh. The small silver star hanging from the rear-view mirror spun lazily on its chain.
“Had enough last weekend, I figured,” he said.
“Hmm.” You watched the star twirl. “Probably wise.”
He turned past the corner shop just off your block and joined the main street. Streams of headlights flowed towards the city centre.
“Won’t be easy, though,” he said, glancing at his phone in the metal-rimmed tray on the centre console. “Gyu spent the entire day boasting about all the drinks he’d ordered for Nara’s dinner.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm. The entire day.” His expression flattened. “Said he only wanted my feedback, and sent this massive list.”
“Well,” you clicked your tongue, gaze flicking briefly to the bottle of Chambord you’d placed by your feet, “you are the self-appointed alcohol expert among us.”
“How am I self-appointed?”
You gave him a flat look. Yeonjun felt the warmth underneath it and gripped the wheel tighter.
“Fine,” he said. “I can see how I might’ve cultivated the reputation.”
“Good that you can.”
His lips curled. “It was good stuff anyway, to be fair. Mead was on his list. Never tried that.”
You shifted slightly in your seat, turning away from the window and a little more towards him.
Yeonjun saw the movement in his peripheral vision and instinctively started turning as well. He caught himself after a second and forced his eyes back to the windscreen before he managed to drive the pair of you into the nearest lamp post.
“Really?” you said. “My gran used to make mead at home. Taught me, too.”
He took a moment to remind himself to breathe. “Oh—yeah? S’impressive.”
“It isn’t very hard.” You crossed your ankles, nudging your handbag aside with the toe of your shoe. “Basically just fermented honey, water, and yeast. Oh, and my gran adds grape juice sometimes, too. S’called pyment then.”
He tilted his head. “Didn’t know that.”
The traffic lights outside briefly turned his face green.
“Soobin didn’t teach you while he was still bartending?” you asked.
“He might’ve.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Your laughter was warm in the car, familiar.
He’d missed it over the past week. He suspected he might turn into a proper clown by the end of tonight.
“So,” he said. “Mead, then.”
“Mhmm.”
“Can you make it at home?”
You considered that, watching the city slide past in fragments of streetlights and windows glowing gold behind half-drawn curtains. There was a massive white bedsheet stirring in the wind on someone’s balcony.
Your thoughts drifted to your grandparents’ farm: the old barn with shelves of empty jars and the beehives just outside. Your grandmother had brewed most of her mead there. You still remembered how warm the jars had been when you carried them inside, heated from the summer sun.
“Technically,” you said, “I guess you can.”
“Oh, fantastic.” Yeonjun tapped the steering wheel with two fingers. The silver bracelet on his wrist jingled softly. “Next weekend’s sorted, then.”
“Would be funny if it was done in a weekend.”
“It’s not?”
You shook your head. “The fermentation alone can take months.”
Ahead, the traffic began to slow. Yeonjun pressed lazily on the brakes, and the Mercedes rolled to a stop in front of a red light. The line of brake lights ahead stretched through the city.
“Alright.” He glanced at you, counted to three, and forced himself to look away again—in small doses, he reasoned, he’d be fine. “What d’you reckon are the odds that people will want to celebrate my birthday for the next few months?”
“Not very high, m’afraid.”
“But I’m loads of fun.”
“I’d say you’ll be lucky if everyone stays for an hour.”
Yeonjun snorted. The red glow outside flicked to green, and the car glided forward so smoothly that your stomach performed a quick flip, caught off guard by the motion.
“Haven’t decided what else I could do,” he admitted after a moment. “For my birthday, I mean.”
You studied his profile, his cheeks warm beneath passing streetlights, then lost to the shadows again.
“Got any ideas?” you asked.
“Well, mead sounded nice, but—”
“Got any realistic ideas?”
A smile spread across his face.
“Not really.” He overtook a Subaru idling half on the pavement and shot the driver a look. “Current plan’s the good old Sit and Drink.”
“Oh, classic,” you said.
“Yeah, timeless.”
“Dull, though.”
He turned to look at you, reflexively preparing to argue. Then he remembered Soobin yelling at him last year, his voice rough from alcohol and panic, one hand gripping the back of Yeonjun’s neck hard enough to leave marks.
He remembered Soobin yelling at him last week, too, after the engagement party. But he’d been too thrown by Reina’s visit to properly process what Soobin was saying on the phone.
“Alright, yeah. Fair.” He shifted in his seat, his hand sliding over the leather cover of the wheel. “Bin threatened to have my stomach pumped last year. Wouldn’t rush to repeat that.”
You stared at him. “That—that’s awful.”
“Yeah. Although the drinking itself was fun.”
“People die from alcohol poisoning.”
He gave you a lighthearted smile. “Bit dramatic, love.”
You didn’t smile back, which startled him enough to look over properly. The glow from the streetlights drifted over your furrowed brows.
It was the nickname, he assumed, already opening his mouth to take it back. Then he realised it wasn’t.
You looked concerned.
Suddenly, he felt a strange sense of lightness, as though he’d just plummeted from the top of a rollercoaster. All breath was gone from his lungs.
“No, really,” he said, more serious now. “It was just unpleasant in my case. Bin mostly wanted to scare me straight.”
“Hmm.” Your gaze dropped to your handbag on the car floor. It rested against the bottle now. “We’re making non-alcoholic mead for your birthday, then.”
His expression brightened, despite another red light ahead.
He remembered the two of you talking about his birthday a year ago, while you still had your bet. You’d made an off-handed comment then, about getting him something stupid as a gift.
Nothing had come of it.
Now he settled for simply hearing that you were a we again.
“Isn’t that technically just water and honey, then?” he asked, clearing his throat to keep his voice steady.
“We can make it with warm water, too.”
He nodded gravely. “Tea with honey, then.”
“Why not?” You swept your hair behind your shoulder, smiling. “Sounds lovely. Good for your liver.”
“And my throat.”
“Of course.”
He laughed, completely lost now to the fresh, fruity scent of your shampoo.
The traffic light changed, but it took him a second to notice. A horn sounded somewhere behind him.
“Alright,” he said, glancing at the rear-view mirror as he pushed the car forward. “Tea for my birthday it is.”
You nodded. “Glad I could help.”
He grinned.
The city lights outside blurred past the windows, each one the colour of your dress.
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 4, 2026. 8:15 PM
You and Yeonjun arrived a few minutes late, but judging by the steady stream of people still trickling through the entrance across the street, no one else had been on time, either.
The restaurant sat at the end of a narrow cobbled lane, tucked between ageing buildings, but still impossible to miss. Deep red brick glowed under the uplighting, visible from half a block away. Three steep gables rose into the night sky, their pointed windows warm with light.
There was a fountain burbling by the entrance. White lights illuminated the spray from below, turning every droplet silver. The breeze carried a fine mist across the pavement; it felt damp and cool against your cheeks.
Nara stood by the door, greeting her guests (and, on reflex, occasionally a random restaurant visitor she’d never met before).
“Right,” Yeonjun said, tipping his head back to inspect the arched windows. “She’s gone for a castle, then.”
Your eyes drifted to Nara’s dark green gown, jewel-toned beneath the lights. She looked stunning and perfectly at home here.
“Yeah,” you said. “Starting to feel a bit underdressed, not going to lie.”
Yeonjun glanced at you.
Your arms were folded loosely across your chest, fingers wrapped around the bottle you’d brought for Nara. The light from the fountain rippled across the satin of your dress.
Ever since he’d picked you up after dropping off Violet and getting dressed earlier, he’d been expecting to find the words more easily. Thought he’d simply take whatever compliment he would’ve given Soobin, adjust slightly, and go with that.
Unfortunately, Soobin had never, to Yeonjun’s knowledge, worn a gold satin dress.
“I think,” he began, drawing a measured breath, “this colour is very—”
The bottle vanished from your hands.
You blinked, turning to see Beomgyu standing right behind you, dressed in a black suit with a mahogany turtleneck underneath, examining the label. He offered no explanation for his actions.
“It’s for Nara,” you said.
“Mhmm.” He turned the bottle over. “I’m in charge of the drinks. Go on ahead.”
You looked at Yeonjun.
Yeonjun looked at Beomgyu.
Beomgyu looked at the bottle.
The bottle, of course, had no eyes and therefore did not look at anything.
“I thought the restaurant was in charge of the drinks,” you said. “Isn’t it?”
Beomgyu sniffled, indignant. “Are you questioning my authority?”
“I’d like to give the bottle to her myself.”
His gaze flicked from you to Yeonjun, and a look of immense satisfaction replaced the previous pride on his face.
“Alright,” he said. “Counter-offer. I—”
“No,” you said.
He snorted. “Haven’t even said anything yet.”
“I know you well enough.” You extended your hand. “Hand it over.”
“I’ll hand it over,” Beomgyu said, pulling the bottle out of your reach, “and then I’ll ask you—just out of curiosity, so I’ll do it loudly enough for everyone to hear—whether you and Yeonjun arrived here together. How’s that sound?”
You pressed your lips tight. Beomgyu’s eyes glinted at that.
Beside you, Yeonjun cleared his throat.
“Personally,” he said, “I don’t think there’s anything odd about that.”
“Yeah?” Beomgyu nodded. “I like that.” He pivoted towards the entrance. “Nar—”
You caught his sleeve and yanked him backwards before he could start making a scene.
“Keep the bottle,” you hissed. “And be quiet.”
A victorious grin spread across his face. He made an exaggerated kissing sound, then jogged away before you could change your mind and take the bottle back by force.
Yeonjun watched him brush a hand over Nara’s shoulders and disappear into the restaurant. She hadn’t even glimpsed the bottle.
“Is it bad,” Yeonjun asked, “that we arrived together?”
You sighed, bringing your hand into your handbag to pull out the rest of the gift you’d got for Nara.
“Did you know they were talking about us in the old group chat?” you asked.
Yeonjun did know.
He’d read every message three times, some of them four, and screenshotted his favourites (Taehyun saying, no but i think they’re actually really cute together tbh, and Beomgyu saying, always suspected they’d end up back together). His least favourite ones, he’d long-pressed and deleted from the chat altogether (Taehyun saying, he’s so desperate it’s endearing, and Beomgyu saying, should’ve called an ambulance to help him stand tf up).
“Uh—yeah,” Yeonjun said. “Saw some of it.”
You glanced towards the entrance, pulling the zipper of your bag closed.
“Yeah,” you said. “If we’re actually going to be friends, then I’d like it if it wasn’t a joke.”
Yeonjun felt his heart skip quickly over a beat.
As you approached the entrance together, he noticed you unconsciously drift half a step away from him—a familiar gesture. Protective this time, though. So that this wouldn’t turn into a joke. Because it was serious.
He suspected he really wouldn’t need any alcohol tonight.
Nara didn’t appear to register that you’d arrived together at all. Granted, you immediately distracted her by handing her a narrow box. An assortment of small gemstones sat quietly inside.
Her face lit up as soon as she opened it.
You’d spent most of last week hunting the stones down, searching for something within your price range and visiting enough dodgy online shops to warrant an apology email to your antivirus software. It had been worth it.
“Oh my God,” Nara exclaimed, taking the box from you and clutching your wrist with her free hand. “Oh my God.”
The gemstones caught the light from the chandelier inside, scattering flashes of colour across her face: white and purple and green.
You chuckled. “Do you like them?”
“Oh my God,” she replied. Then she hooked her arm through yours and peeled you away from Yeonjun without bothering to acknowledge he was there at all.
You barely had time to glance over your shoulder.
Yeonjun remained standing on the doorstep, vaguely bewildered. After a momentary glance at the fountain behind him—it offered neither guidance nor sympathy—he followed you inside.
“There’s this elephant charm I’ve been trying to make,” Nara said, steering you through the vast entrance hall. “But the wire keeps slipping out of place.”
The warmth of the restaurant wrapped around you, carrying the scent of wood and candle wax. Somewhere deeper inside, you could hear glasses clinking.
“I figured,” Nara continued, “I could make the body of the elephant by wrapping the wire around a pearl.”
You glanced down at the box in her hands. Three pearls sat in the bottom left corner.
“That sounds lovely,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “A gift for someone?”
“Not sure yet.” Her fingers drifted absently to the small bear pendant at her neck. “Just thought it’d be cool.”
You smiled—then suddenly stopped as the two of you entered the dining room.
The sheer scale of it hit you at once. Massive stone columns soared towards vaulted ceilings high overhead; you could hardly look down once you’d looked up. Deep emerald banquettes curved around dark, circular tables. Chandeliers hung between the arches, casting pools of warm light across the faces of other diners, all engaged in hushed conversations.
The place had the feel of an ancient cathedral. Or perhaps Hogwarts.
You found yourself wondering, once again, what exactly Nara did for a living.
“Spacious,” you observed, nodding ahead.
Nara followed your gaze.
“Right?” She pointed towards the far end of the room. “I actually had to ask the manager where the toilets were.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Already forgot, though, so don’t ask.”
You laughed softly, suddenly too aware of the crowds around you, and followed her inside. Behind you, Yeonjun’s footsteps kept pace with yours.
“So, where’d the elephant come from?” you asked, glancing at the gemstones.
“Oh.” Nara grinned, pleased to return to her original point. “Beomgyu and I drove past a zoo the other day. He started prattling on about elephants, said they used to have a big enclosure when he was little. Been thinking about that the entire day at work today.”
“Hmm.” You glanced sideways at her. “So, then… uh, what is work?”
She glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “You know what it is.”
“I don’t, actually.”
Nara turned back to the box in her hands. She didn’t say anything else.
“No, seriously,” you pushed. “I’ve heard rumours you’re running contraband.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “S’nonsense.”
“So, what do you actually do?”
She waved even harder, an involuntary smile spreading across her face. You couldn’t tell what it was supposed to mean.
You clicked your tongue. “Fine, then. Keep your secrets.”
Snickering, she brought a finger over the edge of an amethyst in the box.
“They bring luck, did you know?” she said, tucking a stray strand of her curled hair behind her ear. “The elephants.”
“I’ve heard that, yeah.”
“Big fan of luck, personally.”
“Hmm.”
A waiter appeared by her side, giving you both a perfect, welcoming smile. He gestured ahead and guided you the rest of the way towards a long table near the back.
The further you walked, the larger the room seemed to become. People filled nearly every table, dressed in tailored suits and elegant dresses, exuding effortless luxury that made you look down at your feet. Nara warned you not to mind them; she hadn’t bothered renting out the whole restaurant and, in fact, seemed to enjoy having an audience for her birthday.
No one seemed to notice you. You still felt out of place.
At the table, Nara thanked the waiter with another nod before taking charge.
“Sit here,” she instructed, directing you towards an empty chair between Reina and Kai.
As you stepped forward, Reina stood up, throwing her arms around you as though you hadn’t seen each other in eight months instead of eight hours. She was clearly already tipsy.
Once you pulled back, Kai lifted both hands expectantly from his seat. His hug came slightly compressed, as it hadn’t occurred to him to stand from his chair. He was clearly tipsy as well.
“And you—” Nara pointed at Yeonjun, “—across from her, yeah?”
Yeonjun glanced at the table. He didn’t get the chance to respond before Nara suddenly straightened up.
“Wait.” Her eyes bounced between you and him. “No, hang on. If I move Taehyun, you can sit together. Let me—”
“This is fine,” Yeonjun said. He didn’t want this to be a joke either, and crossed the table before he could change his mind. “Thanks.”
You tried not to watch him go.
Nara watched you trying not to watch him.
“Okay,” she said slowly. The vivid red of her lipstick made the smirk on her lips more noticeable. “Settle in, then.”
You exchanged friendly nods with the rest of Nara’s friends, most of whom you’d only ever seen on Nara’s birthdays, and lowered yourself into your chair.
“Happy birthday again,” you said, turning back.
Nara squeezed your shoulder before heading for her own seat at the head of the table.
You set your bag down on the floor beside your chair and let your gaze drift across the restaurant. Two large ceramic vases sat in the centre of the table in front of you, filled with brown branches that twisted upwards towards the chandeliers overhead. Candles flickered between plates, their flames doubling and tripling in the polished cutlery. The entire table seemed to glow.
Yeonjun pulled out the chair opposite yours and sat down. Golden light caught in his dark hair, swept back lightly with gel. Earlier, in the car, he’d worried about not having time to do anything proper with it. You thought his hair looked good exactly as it was, but wisely chose to keep that to yourself.
Beside you, Reina elbowed you lightly in the ribs, then gestured at Yeonjun. There was a question glimmering in her eyes.
You gave the smallest nod.
She grinned. Without a word, she reached for her wine and nudged Soobin’s arm. Understanding immediately, Soobin stood and filled your glass. Beomgyu, apparently, had left him in charge of the drinks on this side of the table.
Shortly after everyone settled into their seats, Nara rose to give a speech. You inhaled automatically, bracing yourself.
Across the table, seated to Yeonjun’s right, Taehyun caught your eye.
“Bet it’ll go over half an hour,” he whispered to you.
You smiled despite yourself.
Nara, bless her, had a tendency to get very emotional on her birthday. A few years back, she’d ended her speech with an improvised Pink Floyd song that no one at the table had heard before. It had gone on for over ten minutes. You’d had the song stuck in your head for days afterwards.
Mercifully, Nara’s speech tonight was only three minutes long: she thanked everyone for coming, thanked everyone for the gifts, thanked everyone for being born at the same point in history as her, then sat back down again.
The applause lasted longer than the speech.
At some point afterwards, perhaps inspired by the dark red arches framing the windows, or the wallpaper borders that looked like they belonged in a circus tent, the conversation turned to clowns.
“D’you know that story about the clown statue?” Beomgyu asked, already on his second glass.
Taehyun and Yeonjun groaned softly beside him in impressive unison.
Beomgyu went on anyway.
“There’s this babysitter watching her neighbours’ kids,” he began, “and she gets creeped out by this clown statue in the living room. So, she calls the parents and asks if she can cover it up with a blanket or something. And the parents—”
“The parents say they haven’t got a statue,” Yeonjun cut in, leaning forward across the table to give him a pointed look. “And the clown turns out to be real and murders the babysitter. Yeah?”
Beomgyu clicked his tongue at him. “Actually, the parents said they have got a clown statue. The babysitter covered it up, and all was well.”
Yeonjun snorted and leaned back to take a sip of the apple juice in his glass. He frowned as he swallowed, smacking his lips. It tasted like expired cider.
“Isn’t the clown statue story just a variation of those ‘the call is coming from inside the house’ stories?” Taehyun asked. “They always end the same way.”
“Mine didn’t,” Beomgyu retorted.
“Then it’s a story about nothing,” Yeonjun said, still gazing absently at the table.
He looked up, suddenly, and your eyes met. You’d been smiling, but looked away the moment you realised he’d noticed.
Yeonjun suddenly felt as if he’d just pulled off five successful somersaults. He lost all track of the conversation around him.
“It’s a story about how we overcome adversity in life,” Beomgyu argued. The only indication he’d been drinking was the rising volume of his voice. “You see a creepy statue, you cover it up.”
“You hear a phone call when you’re home alone,” Taehyun added, “you don’t answer.”
The table laughed.
Kai jumped on your other side, nearly splashing his drink over your dress. You shifted a little to the left.
“Didn’t Soobin live through that?” he asked. “The phone call from inside the house?”
You turned to Reina. The smile on your lips made her snort into her wine.
Soobin, beside her, lowered his glass to the table. Immediately, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in a week.
“I did not live through that,” he said. “If anything, I lived through the opposite of that.”
Reina placed a hand on his knee under the table, encouraging. He shook his head.
This was, clearly, a sensitive subject.
Naturally, the whole table was intrigued.
“Come on,” Nara said, waving her glass in his direction. “S’my birthday. You have to tell us about this.”
“I already got you a very nice gift,” Soobin replied. “Think I’ve done my part.”
It was Reina, technically, who’d helped him collect the set of plates Nara had wanted, but he didn’t think the distinction mattered at this given moment.
“And I appreciate it very much,” Nara said. “Now I want entertainment.”
“It’s not entertaining at all,” Soobin said.
“I feel like it is.”
“It isn’t.”
“I want to hear it, too,” Taehyun interjected. He was leaning over the table, right in front of Soobin, as if he could physically wring the story out of him.
“Me too,” Beomgyu said, then nodded at Kai. “How come you know and we don’t?”
Smiling smugly, Kai leaned back in his chair.
Reina nudged Soobin’s side softly with her elbow. He realised he wouldn’t have her on his side for this—she loved this story too much. She was the one who’d told Kai, wheezing every third word.
Soobin lowered his eyes and sighed.
“Fine.” He drained what was left in his glass. “I’ll tell you. But it isn’t funny or scary.”
A few people across the table clapped energetically. Across from Soobin, Yeonjun was already grinning. He was one of the few people here who was part of the story.
“This was back when you and I lived together,” Soobin began, nodding at him. Yeonjun responded with a deeply encouraging nod. “So, uh—one night, I was sitting in my room, scrolling on my phone. And then I heard this massive bang from across the wall, in Yeonjun’s room. I assumed he’d fallen out of bed, so I went back to my phone.”
Taehyun nearly inhaled his wine, his eyes already bright with amusement.
“Mm. Good to know you’d have my back,” Yeonjun deadpanned, “if I was having a medical emergency.”
Something nudged your foot. You glanced down automatically, but it was impossible to find the culprit. There was a forest of legs underneath the tablecloth.
“So, a while later,” Soobin went on. “I heard another bang. I was slightly concerned by that point, so I went to knock on Yeonjun’s door.” He demonstrated by rapping his knuckles against the tabletop. “No response. But there’s usually no response, because he’s got headphones on, or he’s daydreaming, or someth—”
“Hmm.” Taehyun rested his chin on his palm. His lips were dark red from the wine. “About whom, I wonder.”
His gaze drifted, elegantly, towards you.
You met it with a flat look that only made him laugh again.
Yeonjun took another swig from his glass. The juice didn’t taste quite so bad this time.
“Anyway,” Soobin continued, reflexively following Taehyun’s gaze to you. “I, uh—I started walking back to my room, but then I heard another bang.”
“Just pounding away at the walls, were you?” Nara asked Yeonjun.
He laughed, setting his glass down. “Just listen.”
Beomgyu took the quick interlude as an opportunity to refill Soobin’s glass. Years of experience had taught him that words flowed more easily for Soobin after a drink or two. Or five.
“So, um, I text him,” Soobin went on, giving Beomgyu an appreciative nod. “I go, what the fuck is that noise? And he texts back, what? So I go, open your door. And that’s, uh—that’s when Yeonjun says, I’m not home right now.”
Nara’s eyes widened across the table. “What does that mean? What’s making the noise, then?”
“Exactly!” Soobin pointed his glass at her with an immediate sense of vindication. “Spot on reaction.”
“Tell them what you did next,” Yeonjun prompted.
Soobin took a sip of his wine and caught Reina’s eye. She was already smiling, eager. After a moment’s resistance, he gave her a nod.
Reina set both her elbows on the table.
“He called me,” she took over. “Said he was convinced they’d got a poltergeist.”
The entire table exploded. Laughter bounced off the ceiling, forcing several nearby diners to glance over, then quickly turn away again, as though prolonged eye contact with any one of you might prove fatal.
Oddly, that made your shoulders relax against your chair. With everyone so boisterous around the table, you started to feel much more comfortable.
“Oh, you think s’funny, do you?” Soobin fixed everyone with a determined glare. “Try being alone in a massive house at night while something keeps banging on the walls.”
Nara was shaking with giggles so violent that her liquor sloshed over the rim of her glass, staining the white tablecloth.
“Kee—keep going, Rei,” she managed. “Please.”
“Right.” Reina glanced at Soobin and, smiling warmly, hooked her arm through his. “I asked why he thought it was a poltergeist. He gave me the whole recap. And I said maybe he should just go into the room and check. Unfortunately, uh—he said he didn’t want to die, so going inside wasn’t an option.”
By this point, Beomgyu was clutching Taehyun’s arm, trusting it to support him through his wheezing.
Soobin shot them both a withering look.
“That was terrible advice on my part, to be fair,” Reina admitted.
“Thank you,” Soobin said immediately.
“It could’ve been a robbery—”
“Yes, thank you.”
“—and I was just sending you to check.”
Soobin gave another nod. “Thank you.”
She patted his knee, her engagement ring flashing under the candlelight. Soobin caught sight of it and felt himself relax at once.
It had that effect on him, the ring. He could stare at her wearing it for hours.
“You’re welcome,” Reina said. He watched her fingers trace the lines of his trousers. “But, uh, there was someone—” she turned towards you, “—who disagreed with me about it being robbers.”
You scoffed, setting your wine glass down.
Yeonjun felt his smile widen before you even said anything.
“I just thought it was statistically unlikely to be a robber,” you said. “Especially on the second floor. They’ve got cameras everywhere. How could they’ve missed him?”
Reina nodded. “Mhmm.”
“You know what would be easier to miss, though?” you continued. “A poltergeist.”
Nara toppled into Beomgyu in her laughter; he reached out to catch her so quickly that he nearly smacked the back of Taehyun’s head. His glass slipped and the wine poured across the tablecloth, violently red.
Soobin, alive again, raised a hand above Reina’s head for a grateful high-five. You had to lift yourself slightly off the chair to reach it.
“Anyway,” Reina continued, snickering at the chaos, “I FaceTimed him. He’s holding a broom and a bottle of—”
The laughter around the table swallowed the rest of her sentence.
Taehyun, currently in the middle of throwing napkins onto the wine stain, wheezed out, “di-did he have a wand, too?”
“The broom was a weapon,” Soobin said. His ears had gone pink. “Wasn’t going in there unarmed.”
“I think the broom was fair,” Reina replied, patting his knee again. “It’s the bottle of hairspray that I didn’t get.”
“Thought I could use it instead of pepper spray.”
“Oh.” She leaned back to look at him. “That actually makes sense.”
“Thank you.”
You smiled, caught in the whirlpool of laughter. Then someone kicked you under the table again.
Before you could glance down, you noticed Yeonjun shifting in his seat opposite you, suddenly very interested in his glass.
Your eyes narrowed.
“So, right, then,” Soobin said, dragging his chair closer. It made a dreadful noise against the stone floor. “I eased the door of the room open with the broom. It creaked and everything.”
His voice dropped. Everyone at the table instinctively leaned closer; even the candle flames seemed to swell.
Kai was practically draped across his plate by this point, positively giddy. You could feel his leg bouncing against yours under the table.
“There was nothing inside, just darkness,” Soobin said, gesturing with both hands. “I could make out the outline of the bed, the window. Nothing else. Then—bang.”
He smacked his palm on the tabletop.
Nara and Beomgyu both jumped.
“Another fucking sound,” he said. “I nearly—nearly sprayed hairspray into my eyes.”
The roar of laughter that followed was loud enough to make a waiter pause halfway to your table with the first course. The tray wobbled slightly in his otherwise practised hands.
“What was it, then?” Nara asked, leaning back from the table to make room for a plate of carpaccio that the waiter set before her. Her eyes were brimming with tears.
The sight of the beef made you frown.
“It—it was his fucking storage room,” Soobin said, shooting Yeonjun a glare across the table. “He’d built shelves there over the weekend, and they were collapsing one by one. Thank God that door was already open, or I’d have never gone that far into his room to check.”
Nara raised a hand to dab carefully at the corners of her eyes. Her makeup remained immaculate.
“How’d you attach the shelves?” she asked Yeonjun, her voice still light with laughter. “With glue?”
Yeonjun gave a mournful shake of his head. Several of his canvases had perished in that incident; it was a tragedy.
“With screws,” he said. “I just put too much weight on them, I guess.”
Kai speared a slice of beef on his plate and gestured with his fork.
“I would’ve loved it,” he said, “if it’d actually been a poltergeist, though.”
“I’m still half-convinced we really had one,” Soobin replied.
Yeonjun groaned. “My God—”
“No, seriously.” Soobin leaned forward. “Especially upstairs. The toilet doors would swing open on their own, and there’d be these weird shadows and creaking noises at night. I don’t know.”
Across the table, Taehyun had just finished cleaning the spilled wine. Noticing the bottle beside him was nearly empty, he picked it up and took a swig straight from it.
“How come,” he said after swallowing, “you’re the only person who’s ever experienced any of these things in your house?”
Soobin looked affronted by the implication. “It—well, maybe I’m more observant.”
Yeonjun was already shaking his head.
“The house might’ve been weird,” he said, “but s’not poltergeists. They’re apocryphal anyway.”
“They’re—” Soobin frowned. “What?”
“Apocryphal,” Yeonjun said, gesturing around vaguely with his glass. “You know, dubious. Not proven to be real.”
Soobin blinked. “Then—then just say that, what’s with the apogrifuck stuff.”
The table was laughing again before Yeonjun could find a retort. He glanced down at his plate.
You finally tried the arugula on your plate and remembered, with quiet horror, that it was carpaccio that Yeonjun’s parents had served the only time you’d been to their house.
It suddenly tasted like cardboard.
You set your fork down and took a heavy gulp of your wine.
Yeonjun, in front of you, picked at the beef on his plate. He remembered the carpaccio as well, and couldn’t bring himself to take a bite.
He found himself thinking that he might have to try this same dish again soon. Face the real poltergeists.
Eventually, as the waiters brought out the main course—lamb with roasted vegetables and a sauce so tangy and splendid that you’d have fancied a whole bowl of it—the conversations around the table splintered into smaller groups.
At one end, Beomgyu and Taehyun had moved on to horror films. They spent several minutes discussing favourites before dedicating a solid half an hour to The Blair Witch Project. Soobin joined in the moment he overheard and dragged Reina along as well. She was the film expert at the table, having watched a concerning number released before 2000.
Meanwhile, Kai was busy devouring the tomatoes on his plate and telling you about a mug. He said he’d picked it up from the post office earlier today – it had come wrapped in old newspaper and heavily taped. There was no sender’s address, and he was certain he hadn’t ordered anything.
Before you could respond, something shoved your foot under the table again. You looked up.
Across from you, Yeonjun was nodding along to Kai’s story.
“Maybe you’ve got a stalker,” he suggested, swirling the dregs of his apple juice around his glass.
You braced yourself for another kick, but none came. Still, the longer you stared at Yeonjun, the more insistently he didn’t look at you.
“A stalker who sends me mugs?” Kai replied, skeptical.
Yeonjun shrugged. “Maybe it starts with mugs, but will keep getting progressively worse.”
Your lips twitched.
“Pots,” you suggested, “and pans.”
Kai speared another cherry tomato from his plate. “I like that. Cutlery later, yeah?”
“And a blender,” Yeonjun added.
“An air fryer, eventually,” you said.
“By New Year’s,” Yeonjun said, “they’ll have renovated your whole flat.”
Laughing, Kai lifted his wine glass and washed down the tomatoes. You glanced across the table. This time, Yeonjun was waiting to meet your smile.
“It was white,” Kai went on. “The mug. With some black markings inside, at the bottom. Looked painted on, but I didn’t want to touch them.”
You took another sip from your glass. The wine went incredibly well with the lamb. You assumed Beomgyu had made the choice; you had to give him his due.
“Are you sure it wasn’t just some—” Another nudge at your foot cut you off.
Your gaze snapped upwards.
Yeonjun blinked and realised he hadn’t looked away in time.
“Sorry,” he said with a small smile. He’d stopped being sorry the first time he got your attention. “Not much room.”
“Mm.” You held his gaze for a second before turning back to Kai. “Anyway. You sure it wasn’t something you signed up for by accident? One of those subscriptions?”
Kai considered it. “Definitely nothing for mugs.”
“Do you subscribe to anything at all, then?”
“Just the cheese.”
You raised your eyebrows. “What’s that?”
“There’s this collective,” he explained. “They send me a different brand of cheese to try every month. September’s mimolette. I can’t wait.”
You pursed your lips and took another bite from your plate. The lamb nearly melted in your mouth, leaving a leftover taste of chives.
A cheese collective, honestly, sounded very intriguing. You decided to ask for details later.
“Well, could they have sent you a mug?” you asked.
“Don’t think so,” Kai said, leaning back in his seat. He’d left the mug on the windowsill in his kitchen and hoped it’d be gone by the time he returned home.
Across the room, Beomgyu was watching him while grinning into his glass.
Kai caught his look and frowned. “Was it you?”
Hardly managing to swallow before he burst into laughter, Beomgyu turned away to resume whatever conversation he’d been having with Nara and her friends. He hadn’t heard a single word.
Confused, you looked back at Kai.
“He’s been sending me cryptic photos for months,” Kai explained, sitting up straight. He began to gesticulate, so you quietly moved his wine glass out of the potential danger zone. “Wrappers. A leaf, a parking ticket, a random—random fucking shoe. Never explained anything.”
You pressed your tongue against your teeth. “Mhmm.”
“I text him normal things,” he continued, agitated, “like hey, are you free today? And he sends back a photo of a bowl of crisps. I go, what time are we meeting? Photo of a pigeon. Have to actually ring him to properly talk.”
You nodded slowly, determined to keep your lips in a straight line.
“Assuming there’s even a reason,” you said slowly, “why?”
Kai finished the wine in his glass before replying.
“Been doing it since we moved out,” he said with a shrug. “S’pose he likes reminding me he exists.”
“That’s quite sweet, actually,” you said. “Wants you to remember him.”
Kai shook his head. “S’harassment. It’s not sweet.”
“It is, a bit.”
“No.”
“A bit.”
“No.” He pointed at you, then, suddenly, at Yeonjun. “Would you like it if Yeonjun did that to you?”
Across the table, Yeonjun visibly brightened at the sound of his name, like Violet hearing her food bowl rattle.
You didn’t think Yeonjun occupied quite the same category in your life as Beomgyu did in Kai’s, but that was a discussion for another day. You cleared your throat and glanced down at your plate.
“See, um,” you said, “Yeonjun wouldn’t need to do that, because he’s already got a cat who keeps coming to my flat every morning.”
Kai’s eyebrows shot up. He forgot all about his mug.
He’d only met Violet once, before Yeonjun had moved out of his old house. She seemed to like him considerably more than Beomgyu (Kai based this solely on the fact that his shoes hadn’t been peed in, a luxury Beomgyu was not afforded). Kai loved her.
“Does she, then?” he asked, shooting Yeonjun a look.
Yeonjun disliked whatever had appeared behind Kai’s eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned back, balancing on the rear legs of his chair.
“You think I’m sending my cat over there on purpose?” he asked.
“You’re not?” Kai replied.
“Of course m’not,” Yeonjun said. His foot pushed yours under the table again. “The cat’s—”
“Right, then,” you cut in sharply. “Been kicking me the whole night.”
Yeonjun’s arms loosened. “I—have I?”
Kai’s head swivelled between the two of you.
“Do that one more time,” you said. “See what happens.”
Yeonjun’s grin returned instantly.
His foot found yours under the table and nudged it again, softly.
Keeping your gaze locked on his, you kicked his foot away firmly enough to make his chair lurch sideways, three legs in the air. Yeonjun grabbed the edge of the table to steady his balance, sending a tremor through his empty glass.
Half the table looked over.
Mildly embarrassed on his behalf, Kai politely found something else to look at. The white tablecloth by his knees served him quite well.
“You alright?” Taehyun asked, twisting around in his seat.
Yeonjun straightened. He settled the chair back onto all four legs and took a breath.
“Yes,” he said. “Got a bit dizzy.”
Taehyun frowned. “Have you had too much to drink again?”
Yeonjun caught your gaze across the table. There was an infuriatingly pleased glint in his eyes.
“No,” he said. “M’actually sober.”
Taehyun stared at him for another second. Then he glanced at Reina beside you. She’d seen the commotion too and was visibly suppressing a smile.
Clicking his tongue, Taehyun turned back around. He knew what the problem was; Yeonjun was still unwell.
Restless all of a sudden, Yeonjun turned back to you. He drummed his fingers lightly against the stem of his empty glass.
You could see the thought forming behind his eyes and shook your head in a silent warning.
Yeonjun grinned and nudged your foot again.
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 4, 2026. 10 PM
As the evening wore on and the main course was cleared away, everyone began to mingle.
By now, you and Yeonjun had kicked each other under the table enough times to obtain matching bruises. You were glad to have a chance to walk around.
A few of your friends wandered off to peer at the desserts that a senior couple were sharing nearby. Someone else stole a chair from beside the kitchen doors and dragged it halfway across the restaurant to your table, producing a noise that made everyone within earshot suffer.
You ended up going to the bar. It occupied a quieter corner of the restaurant and smelled of lemon as you approached. Behind the counter, rows of bottles glimmered under the warm lights.
A bartender stood drying glasses at the far end, looking bored. You slipped onto an empty stool and gave an awkward half-raise of your hand to get his attention. He nodded and made his way over.
While you waited for your drink, you turned slightly in your seat and glanced back towards the dining room. Your friends were easy enough to find – Beomgyu had his hands in the air as he explained something to Kai across the table.
You realised, while watching a waiter duck to avoid being clipped by Beomgyu’s elbow, that your shoulders felt heavier than they had an hour ago. The weight of this week was finally catching up to you.
Suddenly, the stool beside yours shifted. “Fancy running into you here.”
You turned your head. Yeonjun was already grinning.
You looked away, lips pressed together to fight off a smile. “Came to kick me here, too?”
He laughed, resting his forearms against the bar.
“Came for a refill, actually,” he said. “Nothing’s on that table suitable for me.”
You glanced back at the far end of the restaurant again. “Didn’t like the apple juice?”
He clicked his lips. “It wasn’t a good juice. Puts shame on the name of all apples.”
“Mm.” You felt your lips stretch despite your effort and turned your head, nodding towards your friends. “Beomgyu seems to think you’re having some sort of spiritual awakening tonight since you’re not drinking.”
Yeonjun glanced over his shoulder and groaned softly. The moment he’d left his seat at the table, Beomgyu asked him if he was alright five times in a row.
“Yeah, he thinks I’m about to join a priest seminary,” he said.
“Oh.” You turned back to him. “Are you?”
“No. Think I’d be bored.” He gave you a meaningful look, a smirk spreading on his lips. “No one to kick.”
He saw you trying not to laugh and counted the twitches in your lips until you finally gave in. He laughed, too.
Finally, the bartender—Joe, according to the golden nametag on his chest—brought you your Elderflower French 75. You’d never tried the cocktail before, but you didn’t recognise any of the others listed behind the bar. You figured you’d risk it with this one; you knew what a French 75 was, and elderflower sounded nice, too.
Yeonjun ordered a Sprite.
Joe looked up, surprised. He had Yeonjun repeat his order, then smiled in evident appreciation. Joe said he’d made forty-seven cocktails tonight (he shared this information with immense pride and just as much exhaustion) and was happy not to have to make a forty-eighth. You felt a little guilty for contributing to the number.
You watched him talk to Yeonjun and sipped your drink. The lemon hit you first, tart and sharp, but the sweetness settled as soon as you swallowed. The glass smelled faintly like perfume. You weren’t sure if you could taste the elderflower.
Beside you, the pendant lights above the bar caught along the edges of Yeonjun’s face, scattering golden fragments across his cheeks. Pale flowers cascaded from the ceiling, their reflections drifting across the surface of his glass.
It all made him look faintly cinematic.
You decided it was in your best interests to look elsewhere.
Once Joe walked away to make the forty-eighth cocktail for someone else, Yeonjun picked up a napkin and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. You glanced back just in time to see him pull out a marker and begin scribbling.
A moment later, he slid the napkin across the bar to you.
what’s up? the handwriting said.
You looked up.
Yeonjun nodded towards the napkin and held out the marker. The same brand, you noticed as you took it, that he used to keep in his car.
Feeling incredulous, you wrote back: drinking, you?
He picked up the napkin, read it, then lowered it again.
just hanging out, he wrote back. it’s quite nice here.
Tilting your head, you straightened the napkin and started a new line.
you do realise, you wrote, we could just talk?
He grinned, taking the marker back from you.
sure, he turned the napkin sideways to squeeze in another line, but this is more fun :)
The smile on your face distracted him enough that he dropped the marker while passing it back to you. It bounced off the bar and clattered onto the floor. He slid off his stool to retrieve it.
Your dress, he noted as he handed the marker back to you, looked even better from this angle.
Taking another sip from your glass, you scribbled back: you always carry markers to birthday dinners?
Yeonjun climbed back on his stool and took the napkin back. His cheeks felt very warm.
no, he wrote. Then paused briefly before adding, your dress is very nice btw, i like the colour.
You had to squint; his handwriting had grown steadily smaller as he tried to fit everything into the remaining space. The dress in question felt much warmer against your skin.
thank you, you wrote back on the other side. Then looked up to give him a quick once-over.
He caught it immediately.
“You don’t need to return the compliment,” he said. “I already know I look nice.”
Snorting, you let your gaze wander down his outfit, lingering briefly on his ridiculously red socks. Then you finished writing your response and slid the napkin back to him.
you’ve got sauce on your shirt.
Yeonjun did a double-take at his clothes as he read. There was a small, pale yellow stain on the bottom corner of his white shirt.
He hadn’t even seen it.
He was amazed you had.
you always notice everything about me <3, he wrote on the napkin.
You scoffed, then pointed at the holder and waved your hand. Yeonjun, very enthusiastic, handed you a new napkin.
You tilted your head at the blank space. A new idea occurred.
You traced the edges with the marker, drawing a rough rectangle, and wrote at the top: draw something on here.
Yeonjun raised his eyebrows at the request, then grinned. Taking a sip of his Sprite, he picked up the marker and bent over the napkin, deliberately shielding it from view with his arm.
The restaurant continued to murmur around you as you watched him work, with music playing faintly overhead. You couldn’t recognise the song, but you didn’t particularly care for it anyway.
Yeonjun’s brows were furrowed, his lips slightly parted in concentration. All you could see was the top of his marker moving across the napkin and the occasional twitch of his wrist. Every now and then, he leaned back to inspect his progress, then immediately bent forward again.
The seriousness of it made you chuckle.
Finally, he slid the napkin across the bar.
It was a slightly blurry doodle of a cat with questionable proportions (one ear nearly twice the size of the other) and a dark blot of ink over one eye.
You smiled immediately.
Violet, you wrote in the corner.
Yeonjun nodded once and reached for another napkin in the holder. The marker squeaked softly as he started drawing again. A minute later, he added a note beneath it and pushed it towards you.
This time, it was a drawing of a very cheerful cow, its back decorated with patches shaped like puzzle pieces.
this is what i imagine your violet looks like, he’d written underneath.
Something inside you lit up, sudden and warm. Smiling, you brought your fingers over the edge of the napkin before turning it over.
now draw them together please, you wrote.
Yeonjun let out a long, focused breath through his mouth, rolling both of his shoulders back. He snatched another napkin.
Unfortunately, the marker had begun dying. He gave it a few vigorous shakes, then scribbled hard on the corner of the napkin until he finally coaxed enough ink to continue.
Once he’d finished, he handed you the drawing with a big grin.
It showed a cat sitting primly on a cow’s back, both looking delighted about this arrangement. There were two stick figures standing in the background.
You laughed.
Yeonjun immediately thought he should draw you something else. Maybe two cats on the cow.
“I’m keeping these, by the way,” you said, gathering all three napkins together. “Might as well sign them, too.”
“Oh.” He snorted. “In case you decide to sell them when I’m famous, yeah?”
“And dead,” you said. “Posthumous art is usually worth more.”
“How soon am I going, then?”
You shrugged. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Laughing, he uncapped the marker again and took the napkins back. His signature wandered off course between the different versions, and he added a tiny heart beside each one.
“There.” He slid them back to you. “Autographed. For free.”
You examined the work.
“The heart’s part of your signature?” you asked.
“No.” His grin widened. “That’s only for my biggest fans.”
“Oh, you think of me so highly.”
“Of course. No need to thank me.”
Snorting, you set your handbag on the bartop and carefully tucked the napkins inside. Yeonjun hurriedly swallowed his Sprite before he made a comment about the careful way you smoothed out the creased corners.
A sudden cheer erupted from the far side of the restaurant.
Both of you turned.
“There he is!” Nara shouted, pointing across the room. “Finally!”
Her younger brother stood near the entrance, looking mildly alarmed and profoundly exhausted. A suitcase stood beside him, a jacket slung over one of his arms.
Nara had mentioned he’d be arriving late. Apparently, he’d been somewhere in South America (she’d lost interest after he left Argentina) and his layover in Frankfurt had stretched longer than he’d planned. Judging by the three times he yawned as he crossed the restaurant, he was still operating from a different timezone.
With his arrival, the celebration restarted at full volume.
You turned back towards the bar. A Kehlani song was playing on the speakers now, soft enough to disappear into the conversations around you.
Yeonjun propped his head on his hand, resting against the bartop, and watched you for a moment.
Behind you, a passionate chant of cake! cake! cake! broke out. You recognised your friends just by their terrible rhythm alone.
“Should we head back there?” Yeonjun asked, noticing your slower movements. “Or do you want to go home?”
You glanced over your shoulder. Reina spotted you immediately; she’d been waiting for you to look her way and considered this proof of your paranormal connection. She waved you over.
You smiled and lifted a hand back.
“Kind of,” you told Yeonjun. “But I also want cake.”
He slipped the marker back into his jacket pocket. Knowing you might argue—might start reciting numbers for taxi services in the city, too—he made sure to phrase his next words as if there was no other option.
“Cake,” he said, “and then I’ll take you home.”
You didn’t argue.
Together, you crossed the restaurant towards your table, where Nara was already instructing the waiter in the cake-cutting process.
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 5, 2026. 12:30 AM
You should’ve known better than to expect to leave Nara’s birthday early. She flitted from conversation to conversation, effortlessly drawing the whole table into every debate she started, energetic as if she was getting younger by the hour.
Naturally, by the time you stumbled out of the restaurant, everyone was well-muddled and giggling uncontrollably at anything and everything.
You lingered by the fountain, chatting to Reina and Nara while they waited for their respective taxis. A minute later, the two cars rolled up at the end of the street, their headlights flashing in the dark.
“Don’t do anything else that would warrant an intervention,” Reina warned you with a grin, pulling you into a quick hug goodbye.
Near the door, Yeonjun pretended not to understand and then pretended not to smile.
“Why?” Nara asked, having overheard. “What’d she do before?”
“Nothing at all,” you said before Reina could even consider answering. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Send me a picture of how that elephant’s going.”
“Oh, yeah!” Nara burst into a new fit of laughter. “Of course!”
After the girls had gone—Soobin barely managed to shut the door behind himself and Reina before the taxi pulled away—you turned back to Yeonjun. Despite the crowd outside the restaurant thinning, the two of you still had an audience on the way to his car.
“Off on your honeymoon, are you?” Taehyun shouted from the entrance. “Bring souvenirs!”
“And use protection!” Beomgyu added beside him. “I’m not ready to be a grandad!”
Kai, the final member of their party, was wheezing, one hand clamped over his mouth.
Yeonjun glanced at you, weighing whether he ought to shout something back to shut them up. You were already shaking your head.
You were too tired, he figured, to muster proper embarrassment.
Yeonjun decided he liked that.
By the time you climbed into his Mercedes, you weren’t convinced you’d make it home conscious. The last few drinks had left you feeling deeply sleepy.
You rested your temple against the cool glass of the window. It vibrated faintly with the engine as the car rolled down the street.
Beside you, Yeonjun drove with one hand loose on the steering wheel and the other resting on the centre console. He felt every centimetre separating your hands as you kept yours curled against the edge of your seat.
He didn’t want to go home.
“Do you want ice cream?” he asked.
You dragged your attention away from the window. “Hm?”
“Ice cream.” He nodded ahead. “From the corner shop.”
You followed his gaze. The small shop near your block glowed against the otherwise dark street. You hadn’t noticed how quiet the night had become; the windows of the surrounding buildings were pitch black.
You quite liked it. Quite liked being here, too.
“Alright,” you said.
Keeping his smile conservative, Yeonjun turned into the nearly empty parking lot. Only two other cars stood beneath the streetlights.
The automatic doors pulled open, and you stepped into the warmth of the shop. It smelled strongly of coffee. Yeonjun claimed to know exactly where the freezers were.
Ten minutes later, the two of you were still wandering the aisles.
“Swear they used to be by the milk,” he mumbled, head turned to scan the aisles on the left.
“Have you even been here before?” you asked, raising a hand to cover a yawn. You were now completing your second lap of the shop.
“Of course,” he said. “Once or twice.”
You sighed, trailing your fingers lightly across a row of perfectly aligned boxes of cereal.
“Should we just ask someone?” You pointed towards an employee stacking deliveries near the counter.
Yeonjun looked offended.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “That’s admitting defeat.”
“Well, we’re hardly winning right now, so—”
“Give me a second, there’s a bunch of new—oh!” His eyes lit up. “There. By the eggs.”
You turned to look. Pushed against the shelves of eggs stood two freezers with colourful wrappers behind the doors.
“See?” Yeonjun said, absurdly pleased with himself. “Told you I’d find it.”
“Very impressive,” you mumbled. “The shop’s a whole ten metres wide.”
Ignoring that, he guided you towards the freezers.
The ice cream selection proved underwhelming. Still, the two of you stood in front of the four different brands for another ten minutes, shoulder-to-shoulder by the glass doors. There was an alarming amount of pistachio flavour; one brand alone offered five different versions.
“Right, then.” Yeonjun folded his arms. “We’ve looked at every single one now.”
“Twice, I think,” you said.
“Twice,” he agreed. “Seen anything you like?”
You scanned the shelves another time. The greens and yellows of the wrappers were starting to blur together.
Honestly, if you’d been here alone, you’d have picked the first one you saw and left.
“I don’t really care,” you said. “S’long as it’s on a stick.”
“Not feeling up for a waffle cone?”
“Not today.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Yeonjun bent at the waist to inspect the lower shelves. His reflection washed over the freezer glass.
“I want something sour,” he decided.
You pointed towards a blue wrapper. “Lemon?”
He looked up, nose scrunched. “Maybe a bit sweeter.”
You shifted to the ice cream next to it. “Pear?”
“Pear,” he repeated, contemplating. “Okay, yeah. Pear sounds nice.”
You opened the freezer door, cold air immediately spilling over your hands. The wrappers crackled softly as you reached inside and pulled out two.
On your way to the tills, you passed the drinks aisle. Yeonjun had taken the ice cream from you and was inspecting the wrappers when you caught his sleeve and tugged lightly. He looked up.
You nodded towards one of the shelves. A dark amber bottle sat between rows of cider, its red label catching the lights overhead.
Yeonjun squinted.
“Oh.” He pointed, raising his eyebrows. “That’s mead.”
“Yeah,” you said. “Want to grab it for your birthday?”
Yeonjun watched the bottle for another second.
He realised he’d completely forgotten about the mead and Beomgyu’s list of spirits tonight.
It struck him as odd.
Then it struck him that if you’d pointed at the shrubbery outside and asked him to grab some of that, too, he’d already have bags full of leaves and branches.
“Yeah, of course,” he said, reaching for the bottle. The glass felt cool against his palm. “Can’t just leave it here, s’clearly been waiting for me.”
“Mhmm,” you said, “and there you were, circling the shop five times.”
“That was only twice.”
“Could’ve asked for help and it would’ve been zero.”
Yeonjun stopped walking suddenly. You took another step before you noticed and turned around.
He stood in the middle of the aisle, gripping the ice cream by the edges of the wrappers and watching you with a faintly worried expression.
“Are you not having a good time with me?” he asked.
Your eyebrows lifted. “What—walking circles around the shop?”
“Walking circles around the shop with me.”
You studied the straight line of his lips for a moment, and the small, hopeful glint in his eyes. Then you smiled despite yourself.
Truly nothing at all has changed since you’d last been out with him.
“No, I am,” you said. “Having the time of my life.”
He dropped his shoulders dramatically.
“Good,” he said, turning back towards the tills. “S’what I like to hear. Come on, love.”
You followed him.
After a scuffle over who would pay—you nearly swiped your card when Yeonjun knocked the scanner sideways and paid in cash while you were yelling at him to be careful—the two of you found yourselves sitting on the pavement behind the shop.
The parking lot stretched out before you, completely vacant now except for his Mercedes. Beyond it, the surrounding trees swayed gently in the rising wind.
The night had cooled, but the breeze felt refreshing against your skin as you raced to eat your ice cream before it melted. The flavour was sharper than you’d anticipated—sweet pear followed by a clean tart finish that lingered on your tongue.
Beside you, Yeonjun watched the bottle of mead sitting by your handbag and tapped his fingers against his knees. The ice cream in his hand was beginning to trickle down the stick.
He’d been waiting for this: some time with you outside your building, somewhere planned and a little inconvenient. So you wouldn’t just be neighbours running into each other in the lobby anymore.
Now, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to go home.
“Tell you what,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of ice cream, “s’only about a mile home. What if we actually try the mead now and walk the rest of the way back?”
You glanced towards the street leading to your block, then turned back to him.
“What about your car?” you asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll come back for it tomorrow morning.”
You looked down at the bottle.
It wasn’t anything special. You’d had mead before. And, realistically, another drink might just put you straight to sleep.
If you didn’t agree to the drink, however, you’d have to call it a night soon.
“Sure,” you said.
Yeonjun immediately shoved the ice cream into his mouth, far too much at once. His eyes widened.
You raised your eyebrows. He held up a single finger, then squeezed his eyes shut. The inside of his skull seemed to freeze solid.
Several painful seconds later, with his temples throbbing, he finally swallowed.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, picking up the bottle.
“Bit eager, yeah?”
Snorting, he gripped the bottle harder, twisting until the cap gave way with a metallic crack.
“There we—oh.” He looked up. “We’ve got no glasses.”
A gust of wind caught a few strands of your hair and blew them across your face. You lifted a hand to brush them away.
“We’re drinking mead in a parking lot,” you said. “We’ll survive without glasses.”
He handed you the bottle.
You balanced your ice cream in one hand and took the bottle in the other. The label looked surprisingly extravagant up close, decorated with ornate golden lettering.
You took a slow sip. It tasted incredibly sweet at first, heavy and almost syrupy.
You tried another sip, slower this time. The flavour softened as it lingered, unfolding into something warm. Faintly floral.
It wasn’t as good as your grandmother’s, but for mead from a corner shop, it was perfectly respectable.
You handed the bottle back to Yeonjun and clicked your lips thoughtfully.
“And?” he asked.
“Alright,” you said, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “You’ll like it.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm. Very sweet.”
Yeonjun lifted the bottle to his lips. He could taste your ice cream on the rim, and his eyes squeezed shut. He tipped his head back farther.
Under the streetlights, the mead looked slightly darker than it had in the shop. You watched him take a swig, hold it in his mouth for a second, then swallow. His throat moved.
His eyebrows rose just as you looked away.
“Oh, s’nice,” he said, glancing at the bottle as though he’d forgotten what it was.
“Yeah?”
He nodded and took another bite of his ice cream to balance the flavour. A pale drop had already splashed on the asphalt beside his shoe.
“Reminds me of something,” he said, “but I can’t think of what.”
“Honey?” you offered, licking your own ice cream.
“Mhmm—yes, dear?”
You snorted. “Fuck off.”
He laughed, catching a drip before it reached his hand, and slurping the melted base. The pear lingered against his throat.
“You’ve got a bit…” you said, nodding towards his face.
“Oh.” He swept his tongue across his upper lip, hand lifting instinctively. “Did I get it?”
You leaned closer, squinting, and caught a faint whiff of his cologne. It felt stronger in the night air, with the mead still warm inside you.
“No,” you said. “Still some.”
He tried wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
You pointed higher.
He frowned. “Where the f—”
Tsking, you reached forward and brushed your thumb over the corner of his mouth.
Yeonjun felt something spark beneath his ribs. It spread through him with embarrassing speed.
This was fine.
You’d touched his face before.
This was alright.
This was—
“Watch it before it melts.”
He blinked down. The ice cream was now oozing over his fingers.
“Oh—shit.” He hurriedly brought it back to his mouth. “F-fank—thanks.”
You leaned back again. As your hand settled on the pavement, your fingers brushed his. Warmth lingered against his skin.
Yeonjun didn’t dare move.
God, he did not know how to be friends.
Who the fuck had invented friendships, anyway? Was there a rulebook, or perhaps some sort of guidelines that he’d missed? He felt like he was doing everything wrong.
He finished the ice cream and accidentally bit into the wooden stick, wincing as his teeth protested. He tossed the stick next to yours, beside the bottle, and wiped his hands on his trousers. They remained stubbornly sticky.
“M’thinking,” he said eventually, looking up at the sky. Only a handful of stars were visible; the blanket of clouds was growing thicker.
You turned towards him. “Yeah?”
“Why d’you think we weren’t friends back then?” he asked, turning slightly to meet your gaze. “At uni.”
You turned back ahead, lips parting. You hadn’t expected this to be what he was thinking about.
“Well,” you said after a moment, resting a hand on your knee, “you were stealing all my answers in class, for one.”
He smiled faintly. “Mhmm.”
“And you were always sneering.”
“Well, that could’ve been friendly.”
You gave him a look. “How is sneering friendly?”
His grin widened. “How’s it not? Bit of a friendly banter.”
Clicking your tongue, you stretched your legs out in front of you. The hem of your dress flowed softly in the wind.
“You were also patronising and derisive,” you said. “And horribly smug.”
His smile softened a touch. “Right.”
The breeze lifted the bottom of your dress over your ankles. You leaned forward to smooth it back down. The wind felt colder against your skin now, perhaps from the ice cream.
“Don’t mean to say that I was perfect, of course,” you added.
Yeonjun was still watching your ankles. “No?”
“Of course not,” you said. “You said it, too. Called me controlling. And a sycophant, I think.”
“Hmm. Good word, that.”
Your mouth twitched slightly as he licked his lips, momentarily self-conscious. He didn’t soften the adjectives, though. Didn’t try to reframe them.
You appreciated that.
You’d said a lot to each other back in the day, and being friends didn’t mean you had to rewrite it all.
“Yeah,” you said. “Think we were trying to one-up each other too much back then.”
“Think we’ve stopped now?”
You glanced up. “Suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”
“Hmm.” He nodded, dropping his gaze. “S’pose we will.”
The trees swooshed softly around you. For a while, the two of you listened to the wind rustling the leaves. The pines up ahead smelled heavenly.
Across the street, a dark silhouette was walking a tiny dog. You caught a glimpse of it under the glow of the streetlight and found yourself smiling.
It was a brown dachshund—Alfred, perhaps, you thought wistfully—with a bright green vest. You didn’t know they made vests in this size. The dog’s legs moved so quickly against the pavement that they looked mechanical, like a little wind-up toy.
Yeonjun was watching it, too.
“Looks a bit like a nutria,” he observed.
You turned to him slowly. “Hm?”
“A nutria.” He nodded towards the dog. “S’a rodent. Bit like a beaver.”
You stared at him. “Where’d you get that from?”
The dog had discovered a patch of grass and was now running in excited circles around its owner. Yeonjun smiled softly.
“I think I’ve seen one once,” he said, tapping his fingers against the pavement. “There was this river not far from my parents’ house when I was growing up. Loads of silt, cattails everywhere. Completely overgrown. My parents loathed the place; told me to steer clear. Initially, I thought they were worried I’d fall in. But really, they were just worried I’d come home and get mud everywhere.”
You dropped your gaze to the asphalt underneath you. It still had an effect on you, any mention of his parents, even if the conversation on your balcony felt more distant now.
“I went there anyway,” he continued. “Saw all these little caves dug into the riverbank. And one day, I saw this—uh, creature eating the cattails. A nutria, I assumed.”
“That sounds cute.”
“Yeah.” He let the breeze stir the trees for a moment. Then he picked up the bottle of mead and turned it slowly by the neck. “‘Course, I was a kid, so I didn’t know better. Might’ve been an oversized muskrat.”
A smile made its way to your lips. Across the street, the dog and its owner took a turn past the trees and disappeared from your view.
“Might’ve been,” you said. You had never seen a muskrat.
Yeonjun nudged the bottle towards you. You picked it up and took another slow sip. The flavour surprised you once again, sweeter every time you tried it.
A drop caught on your lower lip.
Yeonjun watched you swipe your tongue across it and, as a result, lost control of his mouth.
“Muskrats are usually much smaller than nutrias,” he said. “But both have vibrissae, which was my main method of identifying rodents at that point.”
Snorting, you lowered the bottle.
“You’re killing me,” you said. “What’s vibrissae?”
“Whiskers.”
“Right.” You handed the bottle to him, grinning now. “So, you never found out which it was?”
Yeonjun took a generous swig. Without the pear ice cream to dilute the taste, the mead was outrageously sweet.
“Mm—no.” He lowered the bottle. “Could’ve been either. They can cohabitate. Though, of course, nutrias are more aggressive.”
You gave a solemn nod. “Of course.”
Yeonjun watched the smile spread on your face for a second before lowering his head, suddenly sheepish.
Perhaps in the week he’d spent sober, he’d forgotten how to drink. Now he was sitting in some parking lot, alone with you for the first time in a long time, and all he was doing was talking to you about fucking nutrias.
Perhaps this was what friends did.
“Sorry,” he murmured anyway. “Didn’t mean to go off there.”
“No, it’s nice,” you said. “I like hearing about them. Did you go to that river often, then?”
He rolled the neck of the bottle gently between his palms. The glass was warm now.
“Sometimes,” he said. “Had nothing better to do. Didn’t dare to get too close, of course, but I did name the one I saw.”
“What was it?”
“Isolde.”
Your cheeks were starting to ache. “From Tristan and Isolde?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’d just seen the film with Sophia Myles and—”
“How old were you?”
“Maybe ten.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself. Yeonjun laughed, too.
“I was really not supervised very much,” he explained.
“No,” you agreed. “Clearly.”
“Yeah, so anyway.” He took another swig from the bottle. “I’d just watched the film and thought it was brilliant. So the nutria was Isolde. My neighbour’s poodle was Melot, by the way. So it all made sense.”
Your eyes softened in the dim of the streetlights.
You accepted the bottle from him and held it, thoughtfully, on your lap for a moment. Neither of you spoke.
“My grandparents live near woodland,” you said then. “We’ve got martens there. They come down to steal blueberries and murder squirrels.”
He turned his head. “Aren’t martens small?”
“Sort of, I guess,” you said, “but they’re proper quick. Adorable, too, though. They used to remind me of little bears when I was younger, maybe because of their paws. Very bear-like.”
Yeonjun laughed, and you took a sip of the mead before the warmth in your chest could spread any further.
“They’re not rodents,” you added, “but it’s the closest thing I’ve got with vibrissae. Well, I assume they’ve got it anyway.”
You glanced at him with a small frown.
He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, I reckon they do.”
“We’ve had otters near the farm, too,” you said. “Oh, and ermines! Those are tiny.” You pinched your fingers together. “Like this.”
Yeonjun watched the light dancing in your eyes and remembered his kitchen—the first time you’d told him about your animals. He’d been mesmerised, then. He still was now.
“Your grandparents’ farm sounds lovely,” he said.
“Yeah.”
You looked across the empty parking lot. The glow from the streetlights reflected faintly off the asphalt; it seemed to glitter under the lights.
You traced his shadow with your gaze.
You thought you could easily imagine Yeonjun at your farm, leaning against the fence and watching the sheep, probably after you’d told him not to lean against it. Laughing when one of the goats—probably Gertrude, she was always up to no good—stuck her nose into his jacket pocket.
It startled you how quickly the picture arrived, how calm it felt.
The wind picked up, distracting you from your thoughts. It slipped beneath the thin straps of your dress. You rubbed your arm instinctively.
“Getting cold,” you murmured, turning your head away to hide a yawn.
Yeonjun looked up as though he could physically see the wind and ask it to fuck off.
“We can go,” he said, though he didn’t sound sure.
You realised you didn’t want to go.
It was lovely here. Not much to look at, really—even ugly when you thought about it. But lovely, nonetheless.
You wouldn’t have minded taking a quick nap on the pavement, too.
“Yeah,” you said at last, exhaling quietly. “Maybe we should.”
Yeonjun stood first. He brushed dust from the back of his trousers and held out a hand.
Your vision was swimming lightly around the edges. You took his hand; his fingers were still slightly sticky as they closed around yours. He pulled you to your feet.
The parking lot rotated momentarily. You gripped his hand tighter.
“Thanks,” you said.
“Any time.”
Your hand briefly stuck to his as you tried to let go.
After tossing out the rubbish in the nearby bin, the two of you made your way home. The streetlights cast dim pools of golden light across the pavement, broken only by your shadows stretching and shrinking as you walked under them.
This part of the city seemed asleep. Even the traffic lights had given up and blinked a restless yellow.
“You sure you won’t mind coming back for your car tomorrow?” you asked.
“No, it’s not too far,” Yeonjun said, glancing back towards the shop. The bottle in his hands reflected the lights around you. “And I could use the walk.”
You nodded.
The alcohol and the late hour had left a pleasant warmth beneath your skin, but the wind still found its way in. It settled across your shoulders like icy fingers, and you shuddered reflexively, as though trying to shake it off.
“Cold?” Yeonjun asked.
“I’ll be alright.”
Humming, he shrugged off his jacket, sleeves catching briefly on the bottle of mead, and held it out. You looked down at it, then at the thin white shirt he was wearing.
“You’ll be cold, then,” you said.
“I’m very warm,” he replied.
You glanced down at his jacket again.
This wasn’t the first time he was offering it to you. It reminded you, helplessly, of the scarf you’d kept in your box. You probably should’ve given it back to him.
Quietly, you accepted the jacket and draped it around your shoulders, gathering the collar beneath your chin.
It felt warmer than it had last weekend.
“I’ve, uh…” Yeonjun rubbed the back of his neck. The wind pushed his hair across his forehead. “I’ve actually got some other plans tomorrow, too.”
You glanced at him. “Yeah?”
“Mm.” His gaze dropped to the pavement. “Been thinking about those nutrias.”
“Isolde?”
“Yeah.” His lips barely twitched. “Going to find her.”
Your gaze dropped to your shoes. “Oh.”
The pine scent from the trees around you seemed to settle inside him. It reminded him of something nice; he felt his chest expand, but couldn’t quite feel the warmth.
“Yeah,” he said, turning the bottle slowly in his hand. The label was already peeling at one corner. “Don’t know how that’ll go. Thinking I’ll just ring my mum tomorrow and see where that takes me. I haven’t spoken to her in—in a long time.”
There was a sudden tightness in his shoulders. You recognised it straight away.
He wasn’t going home for the nutrias.
“What brought this on?” you asked.
Yeonjun didn’t know how to answer. He turned the bottle around another time.
“Well, uh—you,” he said. You looked up. “Our conversation on your balcony. And—I don’t know. Been thinking about that river just now. Haven’t thought about it in years.”
You glanced back ahead, tightening your grip on the collar of his jacket. It smelled like his cologne.
At some point, you seemed to have accidentally trained yourself into smelling bergamot on something and immediately assuming it belonged to him.
“You sure?” you asked after a moment. “Said you’d cut your parents off.”
A car passed you on the street, its headlights so bright that you had to squint. For a second, your shadows vanished altogether. Then the car was gone, and they returned.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “But I need to see where we stand. You, uh—you were right about that. And there are things I want to say to them anyway. Been building up. You know.”
“Yeah.” Your bag bumped against your hip with every step. “Well, um—I hope they listen.”
Yeonjun glanced at you. “Yeah.”
“Good luck.”
The smile on your lips was small and uncertain. You weren’t convinced luck would help, but you couldn’t offer him much of anything else.
“Thanks,” he said, lifting the bottle slightly. “Might need a fair bit more of this to recover.”
Your laughter was soft, but felt louder in the stillness of the night.
“I’ll have it ready for you,” you said.
The warmth inside him finally blocked out the biting wind.
This, he knew, would help him better than luck.
“Thank you,” he said.
Your building stood just ahead, the entrance lit by the glow of the same streetlight Yeonjun had leaned against last week. The same one under which he’d given you his jacket the first time.
The memory sat heavily in your mind, but felt a lot lighter on your chest.
“You’re welcome,” you said. “S’what friends are for, yeah?”
Yeonjun lowered his gaze. Under the streetlights, your shadows slid together across the pavement until they became one dark shape.
“Mhmm.” He stretched his arms above his head. His joints clicked softly. “What else are friends for?”
You gave him a look. “What do you want them to be for?”
He smiled and didn’t answer.
You wondered what he was thinking about. Then wondered if you really wanted to know.
Just outside the building, Yeonjun pushed the heavy doors open and gestured for you to go in first. His eyes were weary at the corners.
The air in the lobby was stale and smelled faintly of onions; someone in the building had evidently been cooking. Your eyes watered as soon as the door shut.
The letterboxes seemed more crooked than usual today, with several new black-and-white stickers decorating one edge. Yeonjun drifted towards them automatically and placed the bottle of mead on the floor.
You turned around. “We’re staying here, then?”
He smiled reflexively.
We again.
“For a second,” he said, resting his back against the wall. He was more tired than he’d initially realised.
“Oh, you like the smell?”
He grinned. “I like your dress.”
You stopped in the middle of the lobby. Yeonjun leaned his head back. You found you couldn’t really look at him for longer than a second at a time.
“You mentioned that,” you said.
“Did I?”
“Mhmm.”
His fingers ran idly over the edge of the letterboxes.
“Well,” he said, “I think s’really nice.”
Your lips stretched. “I can lend it to you sometime.”
He snorted. “Doubt I’d look any good in it.”
You glanced down at the satin peeking out from under the jacket. The gold appeared darker in the dim light of the lobby.
“Why?” you said, looking back up. “Think gold suits your skin tone.”
Yeonjun didn’t know what to make of that. Didn’t know what to make of the sudden vibrations under his skin, either.
“Does it?” he asked, nodding towards himself. “Come closer, then. Let me see.”
Scoffing, you took a step forward. “Sounded a bit like the Big Bad Wolf there, but alri—”
Laughing, Yeonjun pushed off the wall and wrapped himself around you, his arms circling your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck. It was quick and easy, almost like a habit. It made your heart startle.
“Oh,” you murmured, your breath leaving your lungs in a quiet laugh. “Getting the dress measurements, yeah?”
“Mhmm.” The sound travelled down your spine. You tried very hard not to think about it. “Seeing if it’ll fit me.”
His jacket slipped from your shoulders and landed softly on the floor behind you.
Neither of you moved to pick it up.
“And?” you asked quietly. “Will it?”
His arms tightened around you.
“Just a bit more,” he said. His chest rose and fell steadily against yours. “Still calculating.”
Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, only slightly.
You did not know what you were doing.
You decided you were too tired to worry about it.
“Taking a while,” you whispered, making no move to pull away.
His head shifted against your shoulder in a tiny nod. “Never been good at maths.”
“Mhmm.”
The two of you stood there for another minute while the wind murmured beyond the lobby doors, almost comforting now. You could barely remember the chill of the night. Could barely smell the dreadful onions.
Finally, Yeonjun lifted his head. You felt his absence immediately, cold against your neck.
You looked up as he took a step back. His eyes were dark in the dimness, but open in a way that made your breath catch.
You looked down.
“Let’s go, then,” you said, gesturing towards the stairs.
Nodding, he bent to retrieve the bottle. It felt heavier than it had at the shop, despite being half-empty.
Your shoe nudged his jacket. You picked it up.
“Shit.” The entire back was dusted white. “It’s got dust on it, I’m—”
Yeonjun let out another slow breath. He took the jacket from your hands before you could brush the dust off, warm fingers grazing yours.
“S’fine, love,” he said, tossing it over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
You looked at him. He was watching you with something absurdly warm and peaceful in his eyes.
You moved for the stairs.
The scent of onions blissfully faded the higher you climbed, replaced instead by a familiar, suffocating warmth. You wondered if it would be this hot here in the winter. Wondered about the dark windows of the stairwell, too. Wondered about everything you could, so you wouldn’t wonder about Yeonjun, climbing the stairs right behind you.
You stopped again outside his door on the fifth floor. The corridor lights buzzed overhead.
“Tell Violet I said hi,” you said.
The corners of his lips lifted. Violet was probably asleep inside. He could picture her curled up on his bed, the edge of her tail twitching every now and then.
“I will.” He pulled his keys from his back pocket. “She’ll be back at yours tomorrow morning, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, probably.”
He smiled.
You smiled back.
The night lingered between you for a moment more.
Then you turned and climbed the rest of the stairs home.
Later, when you slipped out of your dress, your skin smelled faintly of bergamot.
⌗privatepartyforthree — a day out with sohee and sungchans turns into you three fucking in a karaoke bar
( bamttolz x fem!reader ) • warnings. bfs!bamttolz , public sex , multiple locations , fingering , oral ( m. receiving ), handjobs, unprotected sex , double penetration, dirty talk , name calling 𓄵 word count. 2173 { back to library }
( yeni’s notes ). i got this idea from @riizebangtan
you didn’t even really like pc rooms , you barely played video games. however sohee and sungchan managed to drag you out of the house , straight to a pc room. “just a few games then we can go to the karaoke room.” he promised you before hand — so you agreed , so there you sat after dying rounds ago and no interest in playing anymore , watching them yell at the screen ( at each other or the game you don’t know ).
“i can’t believe i let you drag me here.” you spoke up. “i wanted to go to the karaoke room.” looking around the room , it was a private room with just the three of you. “i told you , we will.” sohee hands flew across the keyboard. “just let us finish this game , i promise.” sungchans eyes not leaving the screen. “shit!” you jumped as the younger boy slammed his hands on the table. “i fucking died.” snatching the headset off. “can we go now?”
“he’s still in the game , we have to wait.” sungchan was too immersed in the game to notice the boy had died , or your growing impatience. “you can wait a little longer, right?” his hand resting on your knees. “be a good girl.” lightly pinching your thigh , teasing. “look he’s almost done.” you leaned over looking at sungchans screen. “doesn’t look like it.” you said — sohees mind somewhere else , you were leaning over him , you low cut shirt giving him a clear view of your chest.
it was no secret between the three of you that both the boys had some sort of feelings for you , most people thinking your relationship with them was odd , you were aware they liked you — sometimes you even played into it , cheekily flirting with sungchan , or letting sohee touch you in not friendly ways; not going further than that. “there’s one round left.” sungchan finally said something after almost 20 minutes of hurling curse words at the computer. “just sit there and look pretty , sohee keep her entertained.”
“i could be entertained at the karaoke room.” sitting back in your seat , sohee smiled. “i’m here to keep you entertained.” you rolled your eyes. “how are you gonna keep me entertained?” his hand that you forgot was on your knee — now higher than before. “i have my ways.” he said , his hands still moving upwards. “sohee.” you warned , that boyish smile working on you like it always did. “live a little.” he said.
“sungchans right there.” you whispered , he shrugged. “please i doubt he’d mind , and he probably can’t hear.” you watch his hands disappear into your jeans , you bit down on your lip. “see i know you want it , always letting me touch you.” his fingers tracing the line of your clothed slit. “you’re so wet.” his fingers slipped inside you , you moaned. “oh? you must want him to hear.” your eyes going to the boy playing the game. “all he has do is turn his head.” he moved his fingers. “look to his side and he’ll see you making a mess on my fingers.”
his thumb circling your stiff clit. “he’d be so jealous , he wanted to be the one to touch you first.” his scissored your cunt open , your chest moving vastly up and down. “too bad , you’re gonna cum all over my fingers.” he leaned over , kissing behind your ear , your eyes closing as you felt your orgasm approaching. “i can feel you clenching my fingers , you wanna cum don’t you?” you nodded. “cum.” curling his fingers. “look at you making such a mess.” your eyes tightly shut as he fingered you through your orgasm. “fuck look at that so pretty.” you felt his fingers slip out of you , your eyes slowly opened , adjusting to the light —
making direct eye contact with sungchan , his headphones sitting on his neck. “sohee.” he said , literally catching the you as the boy was pulling his hands from your jeans. “i didn’t expect your fingers to be stuffed inside her when i said entertain her.” your face flushed , the younger boy shrugging like it was nothing. “it kept her quiet while you played didn’t it?”
“not when i could hear her moaning through the headset.” increasing your embarrassment. “i told you.” he scoffed. “you told him? that didn’t stop you did it?” his eyebrow lifted with his question. “both of you let’s go.” he stood up, turning the computers off , his face unreadable. “aren’t we supposed to be going to karaoke? you were so eager to go before this no?” the both of you looked at each other before standing up , he took in your appearance smirking. “fix your clothes , they probably already heard you , but you don’t want them see that you were fucked in here do you.” he wasn’t going to let it down , sohee smirked condescendingly , following the boy out , you pushed him. “this is your fault.” he shrugged. “is he mad?” you whispered. “mad? no. jealous and turned on? hell yeah.” he said. “walk faster.” sungchan didn’t even turn around.
the karaoke bar wasn’t that far , a walk down the street and you were walking into the building. “one room please.” he paid for it , taking back his card. “come one.” he said , the three of you following the worker down the hall , completely oblivious to the growing tension between the three of you as he guided you guys down to the room. “have a good time.” he walked away. “go on.” he said, opening the door , the three of you spilling into the room.
the tension was still there , but you still picked up the keyboard — you were serious when you said you wanted to come , the two boys watching you choose different songs , sohee eventually joining you in some songs; but sungchan? he just sat and watched the both of you jump around , more so screaming then singing for multiple songs non-stop. “yn?” sungchan called you turned around , he beckoned you over. “come take a break…” you sat the mic down , sitting on the couch. “sohee you can keep going.” he said , the boy didn’t even question it which made you wonder how he was always so controlling over the younger , and how the younger was always so compliant in his orders. “are you upset? because of what happened.”
“of course not,” he said. “i am a little jealous though.” he confessed , the music and sohee’s loud singing in the background. “why?” you asked , he rolled his eyes. “because i wanted you first , and he knew that.” he said , your cheeks flushing at the sudden confession. “normally he listen to everything i say.” that peaked your interest. “what does that mean?” he smiled teasingly. “don’t worry about that , i’m not mad though.” he said. “wish i could’ve seen the whole thing though.” rubbing his thighs — you were fighting demons to not look down at his lower half. “watching you cum around his fingers.” he stopped , groaning; the fire in you belly from the pc room re-igniting. “fuck i’m so hard.”
finally giving in your eyes fell to his lap , his hard on evident. he was already smirking when you looked up. “just can’t help yourself, can you?” his hand coming behind your neck , not locking you in place , just lightly stroking the lower part behind your ear. “was sohee not enough?” he hummed , the younger boy still singing , you couldn’t even tell if he knew what was going on and was just choosing to ignore it. “come closer.” he guided you slowly into a kiss , dragging his hand from your neck down your stomach to your waistband , his hands slipping into your jeans much like sohee. “already dripping , good.”
his fingers slipping inside you. “fingers slipped right in.” he smirked , his long slender fingers moved fast. “fuck i can you over the music.” he leaned whispering into you ear , his voice low making you even wetter. “fuck sungchan.” you moaned. “making such a mess on the couch , pussy is begging to be filled isn’t it?” you nodded , he smiled. “be a good girl.” he whispered , unbuckling his jeans , lifting his hips to feel his cock — he was big; his tip a blush pink color , already leaking. “touch it baby.” your hand wrapped around his base , moving your hand up and down. “fuck that’s it.” he groaned , leaning his head against the wall behind the coach. “just like that.”
sohee who was so immersed in singing , finally turned around realizing what was happening. “fuck put it in your mouth.” your body half way in his lap as you took him into your mouth. “shit!” he moaned out , sohee stood there watching his friend guide your head up and down on his dick , he felt his own getting hard. “fuck , stop watching and just get over here.” he dropped the mic , making his way over to the couch , sitting down. “get on your knees.” sinking down in between sungchan legs , taking him back into your mouth — the mics all abandoned as sohee freed himself , guiding your hand to his cock , your hand moving. “fu-fuck.”
sungchan hips bucked up into your mouth , pushing your head down; sohee using your hand , fucking into your fist. “good slut , keep sucking me like that.” sungchan running his hands through his hair. “fuck i’m gonna cum.” holding your head down , bucking into your mouth , your hand tighten around sohee making moan loudly — at least this room was semi-soundproof. “oh shit.” sungchan pushed your head down , holding it bucking , his cock twitching as he shot his load into the back of your throat , sohee letting out a loud moan as he came into your hand.
he let your head go , wiping the cum from your lips pushing it back into your mouth. “fuckkk good girl.” leaning down to kiss your swollen lips. “get up.” he pulled you into his lap , laying down on the couch so you were straddling him. “you can’t take both of us right?” sohee’s cock immediately getting hard at the thought of fucking you. “i know you can.” you took your pants off , re-straddling his waist , he slapped your ass. “fuck.” he pulled your panties to the side , his cock kissing your clit. “sit on it.”
both of you moaning, feeling him entering you , your cunt sucking him in. “such a tight cunt.” sohee’s cock was fully erected , his hands coming to your waist. “you ready?” you nodded. “pl-please.” you felt his cock stretching you open , he groaned from behind you as he stuffed himself alongside his bestfriend. “shit.” they both moved simultaneously , the music still playing , the sounds of your skin slapping together filling the room. “su-such a fucking slut.” sungchan groaned. “anyone could walk by and hearing you being fuck like a whore by your bestfriends.”
his hands gripping your waist as he moved his hips , sohee pounding you from the back. “i think -fuck- i think she likes that , her pussy clenched at that.” he groaned , slapping your ass , you moaned out. “she does , such a pretty slut , just ready to be fucked.” they both began to sped up , both taking turns hitting that spot that made you see stars. “oh fuck!” you screamed , sohee pulling your head back by your hair sungchan attacking your neck. “fuck i’m gonna cum.” you warned , your legs shaking as you squeezed them tight.
“oh fuck.” sohee groaned. “fuck , hold it.” slapping your ass. “sh-shit i’m almost there.” he groaned . sungchan hips not faltering as he felt his orgasm approaching. “want us to fill this pretty pussy up.” the elder spoke. “leave you leaking with our cum.” you nodded , tears streaming down your face due to the pleasure. “please , please cum inside me.”
“begging like a whore.” he said. “so-sohee , she wants to be filled up so bad let’s give it to her.” both of them grabbing at you as they sped up , moans filling the now quiet room due to the music shutting off , skin slapping; room smelling of sex. “shit.” sohee hilted his hips , cock twitching inside of you as he came , triggering your orgasm. “oh fuck fuck fuck!” you clenched tightly around them both , sungchan hissed , cumming soon after , pushing both their loads back into your cunt. “fuck!” he groaned , slowly thrusting his hips riding out his high , before they both slipped out of you , your arms and legs feeling like jelly.
“fuck someone definitely heard that.” sohee said , helping you clean up. “we’re gonna get banned.” both of you lowkey panicking , sungchan being the one who was calm like always. “just don’t look them in the eye.” the two of you turned to him. “what , if i’m embarrassed with something , i just don’t look anyone in the eye.” he shrugged. “that’s gonna have to do because i need to shower.” you said , sungchan reaching over to wipe your face. “see now they won’t notice.” he smiled , you rolled your eyes. “come on.” you said. “head down and walk fast.”
safe to say none of you went back to that karaoke room… but you surely did fool around much more after..
genre: figure skating AU, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, PR relationship/fake dating, speed skater!Jaemin x figure skater!reader, female identifying reader
warnings: light partying, a lil suggestive
playlist: true romance (pinkpantheress) | the perfect pair (beabadoobee) | prague (jack harlow) | with me (0WAVE) | next to me (JUNNY) | sexier (nct jnjm)
summary:
In the midst of a career comeback following a major injury, a reckless night cements your fall from grace as the Nation’s Skating Sweetheart. As everything comes crashing down, an opportunity presents itself: your childhood crush, Jaemin, proposes a PR relationship to support both of your returns to the skating world.
As your fabricated relationship throws you further into the spotlight, you’re not sure which is harder – redeeming your reputation, or trying not to fall for Na Jaemin all over again.
disclaimer: be warned that I'm not a skater but I tried my best LOLL also the nationality/country is kept vague intentionally, however I am American so be aware that some aspects of that culture might bleed through - ty!
taglist: @honeybeehorizon
When you step onto the ice, you think it might really be over.
It’s Nationals, which means that this is your last chance to make it. To prove, to everyone in the figure skating community, that you still have what it takes.
The pressure is on, especially since your childhood friend, Sunghoon, is dubbed the favorite within the men's program. You surpassed all expectations and are coming off an incredibly strong short program, which makes you the last one to leave it all on the ice.
You cross one skate over the other, gliding toward center ice. You lift your arms as you hear your name announced over the speakers. Through your nerves, like you’ve done a hundred times before, you flash a bright smile at the crowd. The only face you somehow manage to catch is Sunghoon’s that’s nearly pressed up against the glass. The rest are a blur, but it gives you some comfort to know there’s at least one person still rooting for you out there.
The first half of your program is hands down your favorite, as it features enough technical difficulty while allowing you to lean into your artistry. You hit your jump combinations flawlessly and execute the elements just the way you want. For the first time in years, your competitive spirit is confident. Unhindered.
Your fire carries you through the first half, until you feel a familiar fatigue pulling at your right hip.
Leading up to this season, almost all skating forums, live commentators, and journalists always positioned your narrative over one central detail: the fact that this is your first season back on the ice after an almost career-ending hip tear.
That was enough reason for you to skip over articles and most social media commentary—reliving your surgery, post-op, and shaky comeback through the eyes of other spectators was too much. You remembered the heartache and depression that manifested when you were injured as an Olympic hopeful, and you’d be damned if you let skeptics drag you back into that mindset. You deserve to be here. You are here to prove that you deserve to move forward.
You grit your teeth, fighting through your spins and pushing into each jump. It’s working until you realize what’s next.
An element highly contested by yourself and your coach was your last jump combination: the double axel, double toe, single loop jump wedged into the second half of your program for maximum point potential. It’s something you’d struggled to execute in the past, but it was a stretch for your recovering body post-injury.
Your coach is probably off to the side praying that you opt for an easier version of this combination, but you decide to press on.
Watch me, you think as you take off. Your entire face scrunches with the effort, but it pays off. You hit the double axel, and the adrenaline rush carries your momentum to hit the double toe as well. As you’re continuing into the last jump, your hip muscles pinch in sharp pain. You flinch, and the falter causes you to underrotate the last jump completely and land on two feet. At this point, it’s a miracle that you don’t fully eat shit in the process.
The crowd gasps. You recover your bearings just enough to finish out the program with somewhat convincing artistry. Your hip burns at the scar site, the muscle underneath fatigued and tender. When the crowd applauds, you skate off to the kiss and cry, trying to keep a smile steady as you hug your coach.
“At least you left it all out there,” he says. That’s his way of saying Not perfect, but it might do.
You force a neutral expression on your face as the camera focuses on your reaction. It’ll be close, especially since a good amount of the women had skated clean. To podium, you need a score close to your season’s best, so the question is obvious: did your mistake ruin your chances?
You fidget with the pink bunny plush from your childhood in your usual kiss and cry tradition. The audience pauses in anticipation, and you feel like you’re going to vomit. Then, you hear your total score.
You’ve done it by two measly points. By the skin of your teeth, you’re making it to the podium. You cry in front of the cameras, too shocked to hold in the sobs heaving from your chest.
❅˚
In your daze and general shock at medaling, you’re hyped up into attending an afterparty before you even know it. It’s hosted by the main sponsor of today’s competition, and you typically never like to go to things like this. Of all people, it’s Sunghoon who ultimately convinces you to go.
“We should celebrate both of our comebacks,” he says with a smile. “Plus, only other skaters will be there.”
It’s enough to get you out the door in the black dress you’d managed to pack in your carry on just in case.
You’re regretting it an hour in as Sunghoon’s pulled into conversation after conversation. He’s always had the larger network between the two of you, which leaves you sipping your drink in the corner as you avoid dragging down his conversations.
You’re feeling buzzed when you feel a tap on your shoulder and hear a familiar voice speak your name.
Your jaw drops to the floor. “Jaemin?”
For the first time in a year, Na Jaemin stands in front of you. He wears a suit that’s a little too formal for this event, but it somehow makes him even more handsome than you remember.
“It’s me,” he laughs.
“I thought this was for skaters only.”
“Ouch,” he pretends to be hurt. “Are you saying I’m not a skater?”
You roll your eyes. “A skater that actually competed today, Jaemin.”
“I know some people. Come on,” he grins. “Are you really that unhappy to see me?”
Along with Sunghoon, you’d grown up attending the same rink as Jaemin. Your trio had been three peas in a pod throughout skating school; you’d even trained as an ice dance pair together for a year until Jaemin and his family decided to specialize him into speed skating. From then on, to your dismay, interactions with him had been few and far in between with your conflicting schedules. The distance only grew as you moved from juniors to then seniors in your respective disciplines.
If Sunghoon was like your brother, Jaemin was the schoolyard crush that never quite faded away. Sure, you’d dated some guys here and there over the years, but any whispers of Jaemin dating sent you scrolling on Instagram in full investigation mode. Considering that he was considered an athlete-turned-influencer with his own fan base, you saw these rumors often.
Even so, you try to play it cool by taking a long sip of your drink. “Of course I’m glad to see you, but when was the last time you even laced up your skates?”
“Ah,” Jaemin shoots you a bright smile, although you can see the nerves peek through his facade as he hesitates. “Well…last week?”
“Last week?” You raise an eyebrow. “As in…you’re thinking about coming back?”
“It’s a work in progress,” he says with a wink.
“Hmm.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest.
He seizes your sarcasm to change the subject. “You look like you’re fully back out there, though.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you podiumed, which is more than something.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “you looked really good out there.”
The knowledge of Jaemin watching your near-disastrous free skate sends hot embarrassment crawling up your neck.
“My lead from the short program saved my ass. It would’ve looked better if this,” you point to your bad hip, “would behave the way I want it to.”
He frowns. “It’s not fully recovered?”
“It is, but it’s not. Since I spent so much time off, the muscles on my right are weaker than my left, which sucks since my right is my landing leg.” You force a smile. “The road to full-strength recovery is long.”
“As always, you need to be nicer to yourself,” he sighs. “At least you kept Mr. Hops to comfort you in the kiss and cry.”
Your face burns even hotter. “I didn’t think you would remember him.”
Mr. Hops had been Jaemin’s gift to you for your tenth birthday. You’d taken the pink plushie for your first serious competition as a junior, and you’d continued taking him well into adulthood as a good luck charm. Your hip tear had occurred during a competition where you’d left Mr. Hops sitting in your hotel room, which, in your eyes, verified your long-standing superstition.
“Of course I remember,” he smiles wide. “I’m just glad you’ve gotten a bunch of mileage out of him.”
If the earth could open under your feet and swallow you whole, now would be the time. Not only does your childhood crush remember your pink bunny’s name, but he also knows that you’ve been hauling it around everywhere for at least the past decade.
“Well,” you clear your throat. “I think Mr. Hops and his well-traveled wisdom at least reduces the odds of me having a full mental breakdown.”
“You really didn’t need to worry about anything,” he insists. “Out of everyone, I think you were the most bea–”
“Jaemin!” Sunghoon calls. His face is flushed and his breath carries the trace smell of alcohol. “Guys! Everyone wants to drink!!”
You look at Jaemin wildly for help, but he shrugs in a way that conveys what am I supposed to do about it?
You’re pulled into the main group of fellow skaters that are much too drunk; one look at the three of you together has them hollering and forcing drinks into your hands in the name of reunion. You’re not used to partying, and you’re sure as hell not used to being the center of attention among your peers. Even during your prime, you’d preferred to hang around only a couple close friends after any competition.
The spotlight puts you in a vulnerable position to accept any and all drinks. You stay much later than expected, even when Jaemin offers to help you make a quick exit. You’re the most drunk you’ve ever been, both on the physical drinks as well as the atmosphere. Once you're dancing on a table with someone who you think is Cha Jun-hwan, the night is long gone.
The next morning you wake up to banging on the door of your hotel room. Running to the entrance, you peek through the peephole first, which reveals the livid face of your PR manager, Mei.
“God!” Thunk. “Wake up, already!” Thunk thunk.
Mei isn’t the most level headed person, but, even for her, it’s way too early to be this aggressive. Whatever it is, it’s serious.
You take a deep breath, trying to will away the hangover pounding in your head as you swing the door open. “Hey, Mei–”
“Don’t hey me.” She growls. Mei stalks around your room, sticking her head into your bathroom and closet. She only hesitates when peeking around the corner toward your bed then exhales in relief.
“What on earth is going on?” You ask in bewilderment, and your gut twists. The first thing that crosses your mind is that there must be some sort of serious scandal—a failed test for a controlled substance, maybe. You don't know what else would warrant this level of panic.
“Did you have anyone over last night?”
The question catches you so off guard that you nearly trip over your own feet as you follow her erratic path around your room. “What? No!”
Mei searches behind the curtains and even bends down to look under your bed. “Just reminding you that, as your PR manager, it’s to both of our advantages if you’re forthright about any indiscretions…”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You shriek. You didn’t need to hear this from someone who’s known you since your teen years.
Finally registering your genuine confusion, she squints at you. “...I thought you were ignoring me, but have you really not checked your phone at all today?”
Numbness cascades down your nerves. Your phone currently sits charging on your nightstand. “No?”
Your manager shakes her head and fishes out her laptop from her bag, placing it on the hotel dining table. The display immediately brightens into a gossip article published an hour ago.
ICE ROYALTY TO PARTY ANIMALS: A WILD NIGHT FOR THE NATION’S SWEETHEARTS
Your heart sinks low into your chest as you scroll through the contents of the article. It’s you, alright, down to last night’s little black dress while arm-in-arm with both Sunghoon and Jaemin. It’s you, leaving the car disheveled and dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. It’s unfortunately you, previous child prodigy, downing shots and dancing on the front page of one of the most popular gossip sites.
Shit, you think. Sunghoon must be freaking out. Jaemin, too.
While both men had gathered the nickname of Ice Prince, it was for entirely different reasons. Sunghoon carried the name for his public aloofness, while Jaemin's persona fulfilled the image of charismatic royalty.
While you’d long accepted the unfair scrutiny of being labeled a “controversial” female athlete, both Sunghoon and Jaemin ruled their private lives with an iron fist. Every post and press release was curated and picked through in order to protect their squeaky clean Ice Prince images–especially with the rising cult following of girls.
And you had messed it all up in one night.
“Was it worth it?” Mei snaps. “Did you have fun? Because it sure looks like it.”
Opening the full slideshow, almost every attendee from last night has been captured. However, the most prominent features are still yourself, Jaemin, and Sunghoon.
Wordlessly, Mei pulls up multiple social media sites, where all commentary centers on the three of you. Most old skating fans remember your friendship as a trio, but many new ones—particularly Jaemin’s new legion of followers—fixate on your presence.
did he fly out just to see her? they’re so together y’all
that picture of her on both of their arms makes me sick THAT SHOULD BE ME
embarrassing that her boyfriend had to witness such a mid program, she should retire already
You nudge the laptop so that you can no longer read the words on the screen. “I was not aware of this.”
“I see.” Mei thinks before gathering all of her things back into her bag. “Take some time to process this. Don’t make any statements to anyone yet. If you’re smart, you’ll turn off your social media notifications. We’ll talk.”
“Okay.” You’ve learned not to question her. She’s gotten you out of enough sticky situations. “I’m sorry, Mei.”
“This is just the beginning, kid,” Mei shoots you a pitying smile as she lets herself out. “Just get yourself ready for the storm that’s coming.”
❅˚
Mei gives you two days.
When she requests your presence at her office, you don’t protest. You get there ten minutes ahead of time and wait politely.
“I’m not going to yell at you,” she sighs when she sees your too-straight posture.
“Wouldn’t be unwarranted,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have gotten swept up in the atmosphere.”
“As your manager, I agree.” Mei shoots you a look. “As someone who’s always telling you to enjoy your life—I’m glad you finally stopped punishing yourself.”
You tug with your sleeve without commenting.
Mei continues. “Obviously, you already posted the official statement that we sent over yesterday. Nothing else public on social media, aside from the official pictures we got from Nationals. After that—no posting for a while.”
You nod. It’s fair enough. You’d already gotten too many unsolicited comments from strangers. Notifications were decidedly turned off, and only the bravest of souls could field your direct messages.
“There’s been something else I’ve considered for this season,” Mei hesitates. “If you’re open to it.”
Alarm bells go off in your head. “Interviews? Variety content?”
“The ice show,” Mei says.
“Classics on Ice?” You frown. “Sunghoon and I were already planning on skating.”
“You’ll skate there, sure,” Mei says, “but now it’s more.”
“More as in…promotions? Volunteering?”
Your manager shakes her head. “Yes, benefit shows usually yield good coverage. It’s also an opportunity to showcase your relationships within the skating community. During and leading up to the event. Public perception and opinions are unavoidable, but I think if you’re seen out and about being friendly with respected athletes…”
You cringe at the implication: you are simply an athlete—not a respected one. “That’s a fine idea and all, but wouldn’t that harm those athletes? I’m friends with a lot of skaters, but those friendships are away from the cameras. Except Sunghoon.”
“Right. It would be out of the blue to suddenly hang out with skaters you’ve been training and competing against for years, especially with no public history.” She leans forward. “But if there was suddenly an old friend re-entering the community—maybe that would be believable?”
Your blood chills. You recall what Jaemin told you: it’s a work in progress.
“Jaemin?” You fight to push the words out. “Jaemin’s actually returning to skating?”
Mei nods. Her shoulders relax, perhaps relieved that she didn’t have to directly break the news. “His team is making the announcement at the end of the week.”
You’re happy for him—really, you are—but disappointment tugs at your gut. Why hadn’t he told you when you asked?
“So you want me to skate in this ice show and prove that I have at least two friends. Got it. I can do that.”
Mei’s expression twists. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“With Jaemin coming back into the skating world, and the rumors already circulating between the two of you…” Mei bites her lip. “His management reached out to discuss, and we came to the conclusion that showcasing a…closer relationship would likely be beneficial for both parties.”
It’s her pleading expression to not freak out that makes the last puzzle piece fall into place. “A PR romance? With Jaemin? How on earth would that benefit either of us? He’ll get angry fans, and I’ll get the angry fans’ death threats!”
“You don’t need to be over the top with it,” Mei’s waving both hands, which could be her attempt to calm you down or to enact a physical barrier from you. Maybe both. “Nothing crazy or formal—people already think you're dating! Just lean into the rumors. Hang out with or without Sunghoon. Jaemin is popular, but it’s common knowledge that you all were rink rats together. You’ll get some fan hate, but we see people overall getting really into it.”
You’re speechless. You run through the impending possibilities in your mind. Jaemin, back in your hometown. Seeing him in passing. Existing in the same sphere for the first time in years.
“I still don’t understand how that would benefit him,” you say.
Mei hums. “His team can explain it more.”
“His team?” Your stomach drops. “They’re coming here? Today?”
“Oh, no,” Mei says. “We’re grabbing lunch with them.”
–
Mei whisks you away in her car. You barely process that you're heading somewhere at all. When the car pulls up in front of the nicest restaurant in the city, you think, briefly, that you must be hallucinating this entire ordeal.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs as you stumble out of the passenger’s side.
You follow her lead, baffled at the long roman-style columns at the entrance and dim, ambient lighting. Inside, you can’t even tell that it’s daytime, let alone high noon.
You’ve walked through the interior for minutes before you make a sudden left turn into a more private section of the restaurant. There, at a table around the corner, sits Jaemin with his manager.
His manager rises to shake both your and Mei’s hands. “Jeff.”
“Nice to meet you,” you manage to say, although your throat scratches like sandpaper while speaking.
When Jaemin stands up to face you, your brain glitches on the protocol. Is it proper to shake hands with a childhood best friend, especially when you’re both portrayed on the front cover of tabloids together? When you just saw him a few nights ago, and he only hinted at a comeback? When his team is proposing a PR arrangement? Is a hug too casual for this heavy atmosphere?
“Hi.” You shoot him a pained smile and sit down to avoid confronting the issue entirely. Confusion flickers across his face, but he lowers back down into his seat.
Jeff immediately transitions into business. “Thank you for meeting us today. I hope Mei was able to explain our current situation, especially since the headlines have complicated things.”
Mei nods. “She’s aware. Obviously, we’ll have to be very intentional moving forward.”
Your gaze bounces between the two as they discuss details such as social media use and public outings. You try to catch Jaemin’s eye, but he pokes around at an appetizer on his plate.
You try to listen to their brainstorming of strategies, but you can only take so much before your curiosity gets the best of you. You blurt out to Jaemin directly. “What do you get out of this deal?”
Jaemin’s eyes widen, but he still jumps to speak, as if he’s been waiting for your permission to talk. “Well, I—”
“Jaemin wants to re-enter the skating world,” Jeff interjects. “This…relationship could renew interest in his previous success, since you’re very deeply linked with that time period.”
You frown, but you’re starting to get the picture. You’re sure that this morning’s article alone has most likely sent fans hunting for old skating footage. There’s even some old trio pictures still visible on both your and Sunghoon’s Instagram profiles.
You’ve also seen enough fragments of Jaemin’s fanbase online to know that a public girlfriend would likely alienate the most unhealthily attached fans.
Maybe that’s what someone like him needed to be taken seriously in the athletic world again, just like how you wish people would speak about your current skating and instead of the old.
“Anything else I should know? Any stipulations before I offer myself up as bait for one of the most viral athletes known for having crazy fans?”
Jaemin’s gaze shoots up at you in the corner of your eye. You ignore it as you glare down Mei and Jeff.
“There’s one thing our team is thinking of,” Jeff starts. He side eyes you as if you’re a wild animal ready to pounce. “The charity ice show you’re skating in.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What, they’re having a speed skating demo?”
Your sarcasm falls on deaf ears; if he picks up on it, Jeff doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve been told that both you and Jaemin trained together in ice dance before settling in your respective sports.”
Your jaw tightens. “No. I’m not committing to an ice dance routine. It’s way too late to be practicing for that.”
Mei says nothing, but she nods her head.
“As you wish.” Jeff seems unfazed. “We’ll find something else for Jaemin. If you change your mind, please let us know.”
“I won’t. I mean, I don’t foresee that changing, but we’ll let you know,” you hastily add after sensing Mei’s disapproval. “Thank you.”
Mei and Jeff dominate the discussion throughout lunch, and they’re still chatting as you all rise to leave your table. You find yourself in stride with Jaemin, who seems to be looking everywhere but you.
“So. You're moving back,” you say.
He turns towards you, surprised. “I am. I’m moving out of my old place next Monday.”
“So it was a work in progress, after all.” You try to keep your tone light, but it doesn’t prevent the sour edge in your voice from seeping through.
His expression twists with guilt. “I was going to tell you, but then things started moving too fast. I lost the opportunity. This relationship—PR situation—was not my idea.”
You don’t respond. Your ego stings; you’d asked him so many questions out of a genuine interest to catch up, and the whole while he'd held you at arm's length. Your teams concocted this plan, rather than talk it through first with you as a friend.
Jaemin searches your face. “What do you think of all of this?”
You think that you want to delete Instagram altogether, retire from skating, and tell everyone to stuff their clout-chasing proposals up their—
Really, you should calm down. You have to admit that you could benefit from this arrangement. Sure, there would be hate and an uptick in public interest in your private life, but Mei is right. After these headlines, you’re bound to receive more criticism anyway—maybe returning the focus to your oldest friends would remind the world of your younger self. Before all of the hardship. Nostalgia as a vehicle of empathy.
As for Jaemin, you’re not sure what to make of his sudden re-appearance in your life. Any giddiness is now tempered by the jaded realism of your position. Maybe knowing his true intentions is better for your working relationship, since, moving forward, you should be treating this as a professional arrangement.
“Let’s do it,” your laugh sounds harsh and flat. “What more do I have to lose, right?”
❅˚
Upon returning home, you’re allowed one day of sweet radio silence from any obligations. You mute almost all notifications and lose yourself in your favorite shows.
Then, Jaemin’s announcement drops, and all hell breaks loose.
The overall response shows widespread support for Jaemin’s return to speed skating. The speculation of his move, however, has everyone up in a flurry trying to figure out why. Technically, his city’s rink is superior in all of their facilities and amenities. His coach was based mainly in your rink, but he was so close to retirement and was open about only coaching Jaemin.
You’re not sure why he’s chosen to return here, either. From what you know, a large portion of speed skating training isn’t always in the rink, anyway.
Everyone online, however, is staunchly convinced that you must be the reason. You scroll past everything from pregnancy rumors to social media accounts posting threads surrounding the early “evidence” to prove the existence of this secret relationship. As far as your social media feed is concerned, you're practically married.
Half of it seems to be in good fun—a lot of supportive fans make jokes about finally glimpsing into Jaemin’s notoriously private life. The other half of it is not so fun, manifesting in hate comments and threatening direct messages that trigger you to crack down on your account privacy.
Hey, Jaemin texts you after you temporarily set your Instagram to private. You okay?
You don’t respond. Something stubborn and petty wants to double down . So what if you got photographed drinking with friends? Was society really so fucked up that you had to put in work to protect your peace while both of the ice princes got off scot-free?
When you pull your car into the rink parking lot to a couple of flashing cameras, you know that the answer is undoubtedly yes. You’d hoped for a serene first practice back, but you anticipate Jaemin’s presence before you even open the door.
In fact, he’s literally on the other side, sitting at one of the benches between the back entrance and the ice.
Jaemin stands when he sees you. “Hey, good morning—”
You cut to the chase. “What do you want, Jaem?”
“I just thought I’d say hi before your practice,” he says. He seems encouraged by your use of his old nickname; you make a mental note to avoid using it again.
“You got up at the ass crack of dawn to send me off to practice?”
“Uh—no?” Jaemin points over his shoulder. “I’m doing some strength training first in the gym, then I’ll take over the ice for some light stuff after you.”
“Alright then,” you say. You step past him and continue on. “See you.”
“Will I?”
You turn around. “Will you what?”
“Will I see you soon?” Jaemin studies you. “You’re not answering my texts.”
“There’s nothing in our contractthat requires me to text you back,” you point out. You’re all too familiar with the terms and conditions, as you reviewed and signed the paperwork in the days prior. “I can talk to Mei to put a staged outing on the calendar.”
“No.” He exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to say that we should actually do something together. No calendars, no managers. Definitely no cameras.”
You frown. “Why would we do that?”
“Because we’re friends?” There’s a slight gravel to Jaemin's voice. He’s losing his patience with you, and you’re relishing in it.
“We were friends,” you say. Your grip on your duffel bag tightens. “I thought we were still friends up until Nationals. Before you wanted to use our friendship for notoriety.”
“We can still be friends through this,” he says. “It’s not one or the other. And I told you, this wasn’t my idea.”
You sigh. If he’s going to be so persistent about this, you might as well be direct. “Let me be clear. I hate this arrangement. I’m only doing it because Mei thinks it’s a good idea, I trust her, and for once I’d love for people to stop betting against my skating. That’s it. I’m not doing this because we’re friends. That was pretty much ruined once the paperwork was signed.”
Jaemin opens his mouth to argue, but he’s cut off by a voice from the other side of the rink.
“Hey!” Your coach shouts. “That’s a whole lot of talking and not a lot of warming up.”
You give Jaemin your fakest smile. “You heard the man. Have a good work out, Jaemin.”
You put your all into practice to clear your mind. It’s hard, but the determination to stand on your words keeps your focus razor sharp.
When you’re wiping your blades down and stowing away your things, you think that’s the end of it. Then, you hear the sound of the doors to the ice shutting. You straighten your back and peek through the glass.
Jaemin’s already set up a series of small cones that you assume must be to simulate the short track path. He skates around in long, fluid circles.
Your throat catches. He’s always been so beautiful on the ice. Sure, speed and power were par for the course with speed skating, but his edge control and maneuvers are so finely tuned that you're impressed. Even after all these years, Jaemin still looks like a top athlete.
Jaemin’s skates scrape across the ice as he stops. As if he has a sixth sense for your presence, he turns his gaze towards you. He nods, then, after a moment, raises his hand in a wave.
You turn away and stuff your last remaining item into your duffel. You don’t look back as you leave.
Over the next few weeks, your encounters with Jaemin go more or less the same. He waits to greet you in the morning, and you shut him down every time. You’re not sure what he aims to achieve by waiting it out— you’ve made yourself quite clear—but nevertheless he seems to show up day after day, morning after morning.
Until one day, he doesn’t. When you march through the rink one morning, you’re not met with Jaemin but by an old man that you haven’t seen in a very long time.
You start and nearly drop your bag. “Coach Brown?”
Coach Brown’s smile lines spread over his entire face. While he’s gotten older, you haven’t forgotten the kindness that your childhood coach exudes. “I had to come by now that the three musketeers are back under this roof.”
You laugh, but it’s held taut by guilt. “It’s definitely an unexpected development.”
The old man’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Although the three of you are in a bit of a rut, aren’t you?”
Your palms sweat. “You saw Jaemin this morning?”
“Just ten minutes ago,” Coach Brown shrugs. Then, his expression darkens. “You know, the worst thing you could do is turn your back on your past.”
You blink. “Sorry? What did Jaemin—”
“Sunghoon,” he waves you off before continuing. “It’s been explained to me that you are…less than enthused about the situation, but you still should treat your peers with respect. Carving out a path for yourself doesn’t mean you need to block out the others.”
“Coach—” You can’t even fully process his sentence before he cuts you off again.
“You’ve always had the worst temper of the three,” Coach Brown wags his finger in your face. “Calm yourself down and face it like an adult.”
As fast as he came around, he marches away and disappears through the doors leading up to management’s office.
You stare after him long after the doors close, dazed. You feel twelve-years-old again, getting nagged at to be nice to the boys.
After your training ends a bit early, you happen to catch Jaemin as he puts on his skates. “Morning,” you say.
Jaemin’s head whips up so fast that he swings too far back and bumps his head against the back of the boards. “Oh shit—hey?”
“I saw Coach Brown this morning,” you say.
He brightens. “Me too. I hope I’m half as active as him when I’m that age.”
You don’t respond, instead searching his features and body language for any dishonesty. It’s a stare-off—you, chewing on your lip and Jaemin, confused and massaging the back of his head.
That’s it, you admit to yourself. He didn’t tell Coach Brown anything.
And admittedly—both from the open hope in Jaemin’s expression and your shame from being nagged at—perhaps the old man was right about some things, after all.
“Would you be free to grab lunch tomorrow?” You ask before you change your mind. “There’s a new ramen place that opened up last weekend—”
“Yes!” He answers before you’ve fully finished your sentence. “I know which one you’re talking about. I can pick you up?”
“Oh—uh—that’s okay, I think.”
Jaemin shakes his head. “You’re on the way, let me do it.”
Your jaw tightens, but you swallow your pride. “Sure. Noon?”
He nods without saying anything. The two of you stare at each other.
“Well,” you break the awkward silence first. “Have a good practice.”
“You too.” Jaemin cringes. “I mean, shit, have a good day. See you tomorrow.”
At that, you turn away.
Take that, Coach Brown, you think. Look whose temper is adequately controlled.
❅˚
Twenty minutes before noon, you nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock at the door.
You rake over your appearance in the mirror and make desperate last-minute touch-ups. Sure, it's just lunch, but you were never sure when a rogue camera might snap pictures of you in public. The paparazzi had ceased showing up outside of the rink after the first two days, but the initial onslaught had left you paranoid of any flash or loud chatter.
“You’re early,” you say as you open the door, a little breathless.
Sunghoon blinks back at you. “I am?”
It’s your turn to stare. “Sunghoon. Why are you here?”
Regardless of your confusion, you step aside to let him in. As always, Sunghoon makes himself comfortable on your living room couch. “I was bored. Wanna get lunch?”
“About that.” You cross your arms. “Jaemin is picking me up in fifteen minutes.”
Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise. “You finally decided to stop hating him?”
“I don’t hate him—” you fume. “I still disagree with how he went about things, but I might have just gotten a little too mad.”
Your friend snorts and mumbles something under his breath.
“What?” You punch his arm.
“Ow!” Sunghoon swats away your swings. “I said big surprise—clearly you’re the most hotheaded one out of all of us.
“Brown said the same thing,” you mutter.
Sunghoon pauses. “Isn’t it a little crazy that people are just letting him go right back to work? Right after his surgery, too.”
You shrug. “He seemed healthy enough to lecture me about Jaemin. He said I had the worst temper out of us three.”
He smirks. “Wow. The old man needed to get involved to get your head out of your ass.”
“And who tipped him off in the first place?”
“And who with the worst temper gave me this red mark on my arm just now?”
Touche. “Anyways,” you change the subject. “Wanna go with us?”
“Um,” Sunghoon grimaces. “Not if it’s going to be awkward.”
“It won’t be,” you insist. You shoot out a quick text to Jaemin: Sunghoon randomly showed up at my place. Mind if he comes?
Within thirty seconds, your phone vibrates again. Of course. The more the merrier, it says.
“See,” you hand your phone to him. “Jaemin doesn’t care.”
“He’s not in the position to object,” Sunghoon laughs. “From that wall of text? This is clearly the first time you’ve texted him in weeks. He’s probably just saying yes so that you don’t change your mind and run away.”
You roll your eyes. “So you’re not coming?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sunghoon says. "I'm hungry."
You would’ve been more nervous about merging the group if you’d known about Sunghoon’s intrusion beforehand, but it works out well for the car ride over. Jaemin and Sunghoon seem to pick up right where they put their friendship down.
Their conversation goes from topic to topic, but your mind is reeling. It’s too easy, riding as a passenger in Jaemin’s old car, to feel like you’re a teenager again.
The new ramen place is tucked away in a plaza constructed in the last two years. It’s still finding its niche—the only other businesses in the center are a pharmacy and a dollar store—and the ramen place is the most exciting thing to have happened to it.
“Oof,” Sunghoon says as you approach the shop. From the outside, you can see that there’s only a handful of people inside. “Is that too awkward?”
Jaemin steps forward. “It’s not empty.” He swings the door open before any of you can think about it further.
Jaemin and Sunghoon are full steam ahead with their conversations. You’re jealous, in a way. Both of them have so much natural charisma that it overflows into all their interactions. On the other hand, you feel like you always have to work for it.
You all end up ordering different things from the menu. You’re halfway through observing the interior decor when you realize the rest of the table has gone silent.
“So…” Jaemin says. He leans his head into his hand. “How’s it been?”
“How’s it been?” You repeat.
“Since Nationals,” Jaemin clarifies.
Sunghoon stiffens in the corner of your vision. You try to level your facial expression.
“I mean,” you can’t help the wry smile rising to your face. “I deleted social media from my phone. Mei’s posting for me so I don’t have to see the hate. I’m avoiding the news outlets for the same exact reason."
Jaemin swallows. “Right.”
“What about you?” It’s as much as a way to change the topic as it is genuine curiosity. “How are your fans taking the return announcement?”
“Mostly well,” he admits. “Older fans are excited. Younger fans are confused but trying to be supportive, which I appreciate.”
The elephant in the room goes unaddressed. You saw the comments before officially deciding to hand the reins over to Mei. You know for a fact that there were rumors on top of rumors swirling around your connection to both Jaemin and Sunghoon.
“I delete all of the hate comments,” Sunghoon says as if reading your mind. “Just for my own peace of mind, really. I can’t stand seeing that shit on my page.”
“You should try filtering words,” Jaemin suggests. “That’s helped diffuse some of it for me.”
You frown. While you can tell that both have good intentions, it doesn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it’s worse—you feel like a taboo to hide from the world, despite your status as a well-known figure in the skating world.
“You don’t have to delete or filter anything.” You feel a deep sense of resoluteness. “Let them talk.”
The guys exchange glances. “Sure, people will talk,” Jaemin says. “Doesn’t mean you need to entertain seeing it.”
You shrug, looking between the two as your bowls of ramen are placed in the table space in front of you. “Filtering out words won’t stop them. We’ll just give them something to talk about before they move on.”
Jaemin’s smile curls. A hint of his teeth pokes through. “What do you suggest we do to make them talk?”
You think for a moment before holding your phone in the air with a shake of your hand. “Pose for me?”
❅˚
After that first lunch, talking to Jaemin gets easier. You chat briefly whenever you run into each other at the rink, and sometimes you grab a post-practice coffee if your schedules line up. You don’t text, but Jaemin sends a few skating memes after you log back into Instagram—a cautious way to test the water.
“What’s your goal with coming back?” You ask during one brunch after training.
Jaemin’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t lose his easy smile. “My goal?”
“I mean—” you scramble to find the right words. Hell, you should think before speaking sometimes. “Why decide to come back now? You have so many opportunities outside of skating.”
Skaters who would kill for his following. Not many people would intentionally halt their own momentum, let alone actively endanger it with a fake relationship.
Jaemin leans back in his chair. “Why did you come back? After your injury?”
“Rude. I asked first.” Regardless, you think out loud. “No one’s actually asked me why. Everyone just assumed that I would try to come back after I was ready.”
“Would you have, even if they hadn’t assumed?” He asks.
“Yes,” you say without hesitating.
“Why?”
“It’s not what people would expect from me,” you start. “I knew it was going to be a long road to any sort of podium, and I didn’t even expect to get there at all. I came back…to see if I could, I guess. Skating has just been such a big part of my life; I wasn't ready to give it up.”
Jaemin’s smile brightens. “That’s my answer too.”
“Uh…” You bite your lip. “It’s not that I don’t admire you for coming back, but you weren’t injured. You left first.”
“I did.” Jaemin thinks for a moment. “When I quit, I genuinely thought that skating had nothing more to offer me. But the more time passed, the more I realized that something was missing.”
This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk about his choice to leave. He had never spoken about it outside of the initial press statement, and he’d all but disappeared from the community after. “What made you realize something was missing?”
“Ah, you know.” Jaemin scratches the back of his head. “Just intuition.”
You stare at him. “You came back after years based on some magical intuition? Right out of thin air?”
His cheeks turn pink. “What’s wrong with trusting your intuition?”
“Just seems too good to be true, I guess.” You take a long sip of your drink. “Ignore me. I’m a pessimist nowadays.”
Silence. Then, Jaemin speaks up again. “If you have to know, I saw some old footage. I got the urge to get on the ice, so I did. Casually skating didn’t feel like it was enough. I felt the pull to do everything—compete the right way, by coming home and reconnecting with everyone.”
It’s like his dark eyes are looking through you and your thoughts.
You think back to the months following your injury. In the darkest moments when you considered giving up skating for good, it always led to reminiscing via old videos. Everything from old competition footage to videos of you messing around with the other kids—sometimes it was your last anchor to hope. More than the nostalgia interwoven in the past, you craved to perform again.
“I know exactly what you mean,” you smile, then hesitate. “I’m glad you’re back.”
The seriousness melts away. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Mean it?”
You snort. “Forget it.”
“Too late,” Jaemin points to his temples. “It’s already saved here. No camera needed.”
❅˚
You push on your bike, fighting for your life to pedal to the music while trying to follow the spin instructor’s directions. Beads of sweat roll down your skin, and your throat feels dry.
You sneak a glance at Jaemin. The bastard looks like he’s barely breaking a sweat. In fact, if it he wasn't right next to you, anyone could easily mistake him as the instructor.
He leans toward your bike. “Are you doing okay?”
“I have decent cardio!” You pant over the bass-loaded music. “I’m fine!”
You sound so not fine that Jaemin throws his head back in laughter.
“You two in the back!” The instructor calls out. “Less talking, more pedaling!”
There were only so many cafes close to the rink to try, so working out together is your most recent attempt at activities together. Jaemin insisted that it’s valuable cross-training for your respective sports—you’re not sure that you agree with the sentiment for your discipline, but it’s a nice supplement to your training schedule.
“What did you think about that instructor?” Jaemin asks as he holds the door open for you.
You snort. “Too intense and too much bass boosting.”
Your phone vibrates with texts and phone calls. You don’t even flinch as you start blocking and reporting the unknown callers.
“Wow, you’re popular,” Jaemin jokes while he backs out of his parking spot.
You don’t say anything. There’s no use in dragging Jaemin into it; not when there’s nothing to be done. At the very least, you appreciate that Jaemin always offers to drive.
“Can I ask you something?” Jaemin asks as he pulls up to your place.
“No,” you laugh before registering the nervousness creeping in on his expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Well,” Jaemin clears his throat. “Remember when my team brought up performing an ice dance together at that benefit show?”
“I do.”
“I know that it wasn’t brought up in a very good way.” Jaemin’s eyes flit around your face. “But do you think there’s any part of you that would be open to reconsidering that decision?”
The question makes you freeze. “Why?”
“My team won’t let up about it. I keep telling them that there’s really no need for me to participate…”
He’s continuing into some sort of explanation, but you’re hung up on the first part of his sentence. Sure, Mei and Jeff had been the catalyst for your reunion, but something about the mention of my team douses you as a cold reminder. In the midst of early morning rides and deep conversations over brunch, you’d forgotten that this was all manufactured.
“Our agreement ends right after the ice show, right?” You ask.
He nods. “But it’s just the official clause—of course, I want to—”
“Can you please tell your team that I will not be entertaining this notion again?” You reach for the door.
“Wait, stop. What did I say?” Jaemin’s climbing out of the car too, and a high pitch beeps over and over as he abandons the driver’s seat.
“Maybe I’m just tired,” you huff. “I see you almost every day, and I’m still training. Am I supposed to be all happy-go-lucky all the time? It’s not like we’re friends.”
Jaemin physically recoils. “This again? We are friends.”
“I hadn’t talked to you in years before you decided to come back,” you state matter-of-factly. “We’re bound by a contract. We’re not friends, Jaemin. We’re coworkers.”
You turn on your heel and walk towards your place.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Jaemin calls after you. “You just get to say your piece and storm off?”
You face him. “Go on, then. What do you want to say?”
He stands there for a minute, and his face flashes through a chain of expressions. Jaemin opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again. He shakes his head before shutting himself back in his car. The tires squeak against the asphalt as he drives away.
You pace around your house in angry circles. You should feel better, but instead you generate new reasons to be mad at him. Aside from the contractual nature of your arrangement, didn’t he understand that interfering with your art was an entirely different matter? You could go on a million fake dates and post content on social media, but your time on the ice is the only thing that’s truly yours.
You’re halfway through rage-cleaning your kitchen when your screen lights up with Jaemin’s name. You ignore it, but then Sunghoon calls second, then Mei calls next.
You choose to call Sunghoon back, ready to defend your outburst, but your stomach plummets when you pick up the phone to Sunghoon sniffling.
All your anger dissipates into fear. “What happened?”
“Coach Brown collapsed today,” he rasps. “They're not sure if he's going to make it.”
❅˚
Mei and Jeff sit at the front of the conference room. Mei openly observes you and Jaemin. Jaemin sits scrolling on his phone with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. You cross your arms and try to look anywhere else.
Mei and Jeff review the last month in social media posts and general media coverage. You nod to yourself without listening—they always say the same things anyway: good reception, decent reach, more posting if possible. Today’s presentation is much shorter than expected, with no concrete dates to post strategic content.
You take it as a sign to leave and grab your bag. Jaemin moves as well, putting his phone into his pocket.
“I’m sure you both are worried about Coach Brown,” Mei says suddenly.
You both freeze in place. Your eyes dart to Jaemin, to gauge his reaction, but he’s already looking at you.
You had thought about texting Jaemin a million times since the news broke. You’d checked in on Sunghoon, but he was the type of person to hold things in until later down the line. You didn’t want to push him too hard, since you’re sure that he’s hurting just as much as you.
Looking at the glassiness of Jaemin’s eyes, you’re certain that he’s thought about reaching out to you, too.
“He'll fight through it,” your voice croaks against the silence. “He was a great man.”
“The greatest,” Jaemin says without taking his eyes off of you.
“This may feel a little premature, but the foundation reached out,” Mei prefaces. “They’re having part of the ice show's proceeds go directly to Coach Brown’s family. They asked to confirm if both of you—and Sunghoon, of course—are still planning on participating?”
“Of course,” you answer.
“Are they sure they still want all of us?” Jaemin asks. “I’m not competing in figure skating or ice dance.”
Mei shrugs. “You were in talks before, but I’m guessing it’s because the three of you are his most prominent students. Of course, you went to speed skating eventually, but you were still under him for the entirety of your juniors career.”
Jaemin nods to himself. “It’s relatively short, right?”
Mei hesitates. “Well, I’m not quite sure of the hard details—”
Jaemin shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m in. I’ll figure it out.”
“We can skate together.”
It’s like the entire room has forgotten about your attendance; all three heads snap toward you, eyes wide.
“You want to?” Mei’s eyebrows climb to her hairline. “Now?”
That’s not exactly a great vote of confidence, but you persist nonetheless. “It’s going to help Coach Brown and his family. It’s as simple as that.”
“Will that be okay to prepare for?” Jaemin blurts out. “While you’re training for everything else, I mean.”
You shrug. “Sunghoon’s also competing.”
“It’s just a lot to balance.”
You stare at him. You’re flush with irritation, but you manage to keep your voice level as you respond. “I’ll manage.”
“Well,” Jeff interjects. He clears his throat loudly and moves to disconnect his computer from the room's screen. “That should be more than enough for today. We’ll both be in touch for details on the exhibition, but our next meeting should be in two weeks as usual.”
“Thanks, Jeff,” you drone as you gather your bag and exit.
You’re not even halfway down the stairwell when a hand latches onto your elbow.
“Wait,” Jaemin rasps. “Talk to me. Five minutes. Please.”
He’s panting like he’s run a mile. You nod. “What is it?”
“You don’t need to say yes, you know.” Jaemin says. “I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to work on your own program right now.”
You bristle. “Are you going to ask Sunghoon the same question?”
Jaemin leans his weight against the stairwell railing. “One day we’re laughing and talking about anything and everything, and then the next day you’re telling me that we’re not friends. One day you draw the hard boundary that we will never perform together, and then now you’re willing to. Why are you so upset with me?”
“I’m willing only for the sake of Coach Brown.” Your restrained and rational side snaps. You talk a step forward into Jaemin’s personal space. “I’ve been mad, Jaem. I’ve been pissed since you made your stupid announcement to come back to our rink—some of your crazy fans have found my real phone number, did you know that?”
He's speechless.
You continue. “Ever since coming back from my injury, I can’t do anything right. If I talk about my mental health as an athlete, I’m seen as complaining. If I can’t land a jump? I’m washed up. If my makeup is looking a little off on competition day? My age is showing, and I should feel lucky that someone so old can still compete. People hate me so much that it’s my best PR strategy to become someone’s hated girlfriend, because the new hate is considered an improvement from my old hate.”
“I didn’t know you were being harassed on your personal number,” he mutters.
“And why would you?” You scoff. “It doesn’t matter that we used to know each other, okay? Even though everyone down to Coach Brown wants us to be so close—”
“Coach Brown said something to you before?” Jaemin leans in, which makes you take a step back.
“Well, kinda—”
“Please,” he begs. Desperation lines his eyes. “Tell me what you talked about. I could barely catch him here because of my odd hours, let alone talk to him. I regret that more than anything.”
Your anger wanes. You feel a flash of pity followed by a stark reminder of your surroundings—what were you doing, yelling at Jaemin in a stairwell?
You wrack your brain for a white lie, but nothing comes up on the spot. You’ve already exposed it anyway, so you might as well tell the truth. “He told me to control my temper and stop being mad at you for nothing.”
You expect something like a snarky comment, but Jaemin just looks surprised. “He knew it’s fake?”
You shrug. “I didn’t tell him anything. He either knows us too well or heard something through the grapevine. Or he heard me yelling at you and put two and two together.”
Jaemin snorts, but he doesn’t respond.
You shift uncomfortably. “That was pretty much it. He said the worst thing I could do was turn my back on my past.”
Jaemin pauses for a long time before speaking. “Can I say something to you? No Mei, no Jeff, no social media?”
Your heart feels stuck in your throat. You swallow thickly. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” His gaze burns through you. “I should’ve talked to you more during and after Nationals. I definitely should’ve warned you about the batshit plan our agents were making—I know that probably made you lose trust in me instantly.”
Jaemin glances at you, no doubt expecting some sort of correction or flash of emotion, but you remain silent. He continues: “I know it’s stupid, but they presented me with possible options for a PR relationship — it was going to happen regardless to acclimate the public to my return to skating. They suggested you last, but I think I agreed too fast. I should’ve talked to you before my team made contact with yours.”
Your mind swims with the new information. A laugh slips from your throat without realizing it. “I think I might’ve been the worst choice possible.”
He reddens. “Coach Brown gave me the idea, if I’m being honest.”
Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
“I ran into him here while practicing. Before everything, and before I officially planned to come back.” He admits. “I was venting to him about the concept of a PR relationship—I promise you I didn’t want to—and he started to rehash his past troubles with the media.”
“He got mad when Sunghoon got coverage about his real high school girlfriend,” you recall. “He would’ve lost his mind at a fake one.”
“He didn’t say anything weird,” Jaemin shrugs. “Just a hypothetical: ‘wouldn’t it be nice if someone you feel comfortable with could stand in, instead of doing something like that with a stranger.’”
What was it that Coach Brown had said to you? You should be grateful that he’s someone you feel comfortable around.
The edges of your mouth curl into a bittersweet smile. “That bastard.”
Jaemin smiles back, and your heart flips.
Coach Brown had essentially influenced this entire production. The realization causes tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. “Jaemin—”
“I should've talked to him more.” His eye grow misty. “I fucked up. I should’ve spent time with him, instead of focusing on all of the drama.”
You twitch forward, but you stop yourself short of hugging him. You pat his back in slow taps while holding back your own tears. “It’s not your fault. None of us knew that this would happen.”
He stiffens at your touch. “You don’t need to comfort me, you know. I know you hate me.”
Your stomach drops. “I never hated you, Jaemin. I was just hurt—it felt like you were using me.”
Once you speak it, you know it to be the truth. Try as you might, you could never hate Jaemin. Even if given away ten years ago, you know that he will always hold part of your heart.
“That was never my intention,” he whispers. “I know it’s hard to believe.”
“I see that now,” you acknowledge. “I’ve been an asshole, Jaem. I want to start over. ”
Jaemin sniffs back his remaining tears. He offers you a weak smile. “I’d like that.”
You reach towards him with your hand. “Friends?”
His hand closes over yours, only to pull you forward into a big hug. “Friends. Always.”
Your hands rise from your sides and travel up his back. You squeeze him tight. “Always. I’m sorry it took me so long to remember.”
“One, two, three, turn, two, three—” your choreographer, Maci, counts your steps with a patient tone.
You focus on your footwork. You’re still practicing without music; it’s just Maci’s voice mixed with your shoes squeaking against the floor. You extend your right arm behind you in a soft sweep, and you imagine it making a perfect line with your posture.
Instead, your tricep sticks against something soft yet clammy.
“Mmph—” Jaemin grunts behind you. “That’s my face.”
You stop and wipe your arm. “Sweaty.”
In sync, you both walk to the edge of the room to chug your water.
Practice for the ice show was truly underway, and you all had spent the last week learning choreography off ice. You and Sunghoon had quickly picked up on your routines for your individual portions. Sunghoon would do his routine completely by himself, as he would for any normal exhibition. You, however, would split yours into two: one minute by yourself, then one minute with Jaemin.
It wasn’t a complete disaster, but you were picking it up together slower than either of you anticipated. Jaemin struggled to lead, while you would misjudge your distance and step on his foot—or, in this case, slap him with your tricep.
“I might as well not be there,” Jaemin jokes with you during water breaks. “What happened to all of our training?”
“Our ice dance training from nearly ten years ago?”
“I think you legitimately forget that Jaemin is there if you don’t see him,” Sunghoon observes from the back. Although he almost always finishes before you, he tends to stick around. “You should skate with a rearview mirror.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Actually…” Maci looks lost in thought before nodding her head. “You have a point.”
You gape at her. “You think I need a rearview mirror?”
“Of course not,” she says. Noticeably, Sunghoon deflates slightly in his corner. “I just meant that he has a point…somewhere in there. You guys are taking up completely different spaces”
You both blink at her.
She rolls her eyes, then taps through her phone. A classic waltz plays over the small speakers overhead. “Dance in hold. Just a basic waltz, please.”
Jaemin grins and bows deeply. He extends a hand toward you. “May I have this dance?”
“Corny,” you groan while taking his hand with your right. You straighten your posture and bring your other hand to hold onto his bicep. Likewise, his right hand tucks over your shoulder blade. You’re both glistening with sweat, but you feel goosebumps raise where his hand glides over your skin.
The music continues to play overhead, but neither of you move. Jaemin waits another two measures before leading you across the floor. It’s a simple waltz, but you feel hyperaware of every movement, big and small. You swear Jaemin’s fingers tighten where your hands are clasped together.
“There you go!” Maci calls out.
Right when you’re thinking that’s a green light to call it, she shouts out again. “Now hold eye contact!”
You look up, ready to break the silence with a joke, but your smile drops when you see Jaemin's eyes. They’re dark and captivating—that much hasn’t changed—but there’s an undercurrent of something else that leaves you paralyzed. You nearly forget to breathe, as you have to focus all of your attention on matching his steps.
“How does this pace feel?” He asks while holding eye contact. There’s a ghost of a smirk.
Your heart races so fast that you can’t hear the music over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “It’s a great pace. Feels good.”
You only realize the innuendo after it’s too late. Your face heats as he laughs at you.
“Alright!” Maci shouts out. “First run through of the partner section with the music! I’ll count you off.”
You start alone in the center of the floor with your arms extended, since that’ll be your position on the ice once your solo wraps up. Similar to how it will be on the ice, you don’t see Jaemin as he approaches; his hands rest on your waist first.
Your heartbeat instantly spikes; you’re unsure if it’s due to the contact or the adrenaline.
You brace your core as he lifts you and turns the two of you in a slight spin.
We’re really doing this, you realize as you extend through the lift. It’s a little wobbly—both of your faults, you think—but you get through it. Jaemin lowers you back onto your feet. Even though the landing is a little rough, a lift is a lift.
You turn out to face each other. Jaemin extends his arm toward you. His features are bright and confident, as if teasing you to come closer. For a split second, it reminds you of the easy stage presence he always carried as a performer.
You take his hand and continue with the rest of the routine. As this is an exhibition show and your dance together is an homage to Coach Brown, all of the elements within this showcase are mostly basic in nature. Sure, you both can tackle the various step sequences with a languid artistry not intuitive to non-skaters, but it’s nowhere close enough in difficulty to a competition program.
“You’re thinking too much,” Jaemin murmurs through a spin.
“I’m worried we’ll look silly,” you say as you part.
“No worrying when we’re dancing,” he says. “Just think about me.”
You do. You hold eye contact throughout the remainder of the step sequence, and all your thoughts revolve around him. His positioning—should you adjust a bit so you’re a little closer? You even focus on how your lines are extending towards him. Mostly technical things, but above all—Jaemin is like the sun, pulling everything towards him, and you can’t help but be swept into his orbit.
Your last element is a stationary lift where Jaemin anchors you by your waist and legs to hold you horizontally. Your entrance works, his hand grips your waist, but you flinch the second his other hand grabs your inner thigh.
“Oof—” your lower half drops to the ground, although Jaemin’s hold on your torso is enough to prevent full impact. “Thanks.”
For the first time, you glance around at your audience. Sunghoon looks away and scratches the back of his neck. Maci’s cheeks tinge with pink as she frantically reaches to stop the music.
“What’s wrong?” You ask with a frown as Jaemin pulls you to your feet. “Did it look bad?”
“No, uh—” Maci claps her hands together in light, awkward taps. She clears her throat. “It’s like you never left, Jaemin.”
“You guys are going to get questions about this routine for the rest of your lives,” Sunghoon snorts. “But it’ll get the donations going.”
Jaemin releases his hold on your hand. You flex it thoughtfully; you hadn’t realized that you hadn’t let go.
You look at your dance partner, but Jaemin’s expression tightens into something unreadable. “Yup, great for charity.”
Your day continues as usual—more individual runthroughs, a snack after practice, and mindless chats with your little group. But when you sleep that night, parsing through your day, you can’t shake the phantom feeling of his hand in yours.
❅˚
“I have to ask you a question,” Sunghoon says before you even have the chance to shut the passenger door.
You blink at him through sleepy eyes. “Right now? It’s 5am.”
Sunghoon puts the car into drive and heads in the direction of Jaemin’s apartment.
“So?” Your crankiness asks. “What’s your question—?”
“Do you have feelings for Jaemin?”
“Uh,” you’re genuinely at a loss for words. “Are we talking about currently, or when we were in middle school?”
He doesn’t respond. There’s not even any music playing in the car, so you squirm in your seat against the silence.
You clear your throat. “Why are you asking?”
“Because the two of you look like you’re ready to jump each other at any moment.”
“Ew, Hoon.”
"You're also acting different." Sunghoon gives you a look. “You would’ve already told me if it was anyone else.”
You break eye contact. Dancing with Jaemin again had asserted one thing: you could not deny your physical attraction to him. The chemistry overflowed, even when you watched practice footage back. Sure, he’s always been your type, but his face had grown more handsome and his body more chiseled into adulthood.
When it came to your emotional connection to him, however, your feelings are a big, jumbled mess. Becoming close again has been easy, but something in the air lingers between you two. It's difficult to differentiate the layers of physical attraction, nostalgia, and genuine fondness. How could you explain the complexities to Sunghoon when you barely understood them yourself?
“It’s just partner chemistry and the tone of our routine.” You groan. “Calm down.”
Sunghoon glares at you as he pulls into Jaemin’s apartment complex. He doesn’t respond, but his expression is crystal clear: I’m going to ask you about this again.
“Good morning,” Jaemin sings as he enters the car. “You guys are grumpier than usual.”
You and Sunghoon exchange a look; when he pointedly looks back at the road without a word, you figure he’s leaving any explanation to you.
You cross your arms. “You’re five minutes late.”
Jaemin snorts. “Touche.”
The rest of the drive is quiet. The heater in Sunghoon’s car fights against the cold air outside, but you pull your jacket around you nonetheless.
Starting today, the two of you are practicing your routine for the show on the actual ice. While the cast was just formally announced last week, the post had generated buzz almost immediately. All the marketing team had to do was put the list of names in their caption, and the internet did the rest. After all, what other opportunity would there be to watch the Na Jaemin skate outside of his discipline?
You’re happy that the show guaranteed to have a sold out audience and likely record breaking fundraising. It’s the whole reason why you both chose to participate in the first place, but you’d underestimated the pressure that came with it.
“You’ll finish your section with a spin,” Maci says as she walks you through the last of your solo steps. “And that is where Jaemin will come in.”
“Finally! I’m here!” Jaemin chimes in.
Both you and Sunghoon roll your eyes.
“Let’s see how many of the skills you remember,” you say as you catch your breath.
“I’ll tell the instructors to save a spot for you in Basic 1,” Sunghoon adds on. "You can learn how to skate with those new ice dance boots you bought."
Jaemin flips both of you off.
You step onto the bench while Sunghoon skates away to run through his third of the program.
You scroll through your phone as Sunghoon starts his routine. It’s not as if you don’t respect his skating; on the contrary, you never miss a performance. You just tune in for the big moments, which means that you don’t have to be as alert for these initial sessions.
While you’re nonchalant, Jaemin can’t tear his eyes away.
“If you told me ten years ago that he would be this graceful, I wouldn’t believe you,” the words fall out half under his breath.
You laugh. “Feed that line to the press.”
Jaemin’s eyes flit to yours. “You wouldn’t.”
You raise your hands into the air. “Kidding. I know exactly what you mean.”
From the beginning, Sunghoon had taken the most time to progress. All three of you had been considered advanced for your age group, but you and Jaemin had always been ahead of the curve.
Now, your friend was known for his focus on artistic elements; in many ways, you felt like he truly embodied the emotions of the characters he was portraying. You’d found that element of skating more difficult after your injury—you’d never been that good of an actor in the first place, and post-accident you didn’t find yourself that invested in pretending to be someone else.
“Do you ever regret not sticking with figure skating or ice dance?” You find yourself asking.
He shrugs. “Hard to say since we’ll never know my real potential. Although I did like the acting aspect of portraying a character.”
“So speed skating still has your heart,” you laugh. “Has it at least been worth diving back into it for a little bit? The theatrics of it all?”
Jaemin turns to you. He doesn’t smile at all, and his tone is dead serious. “It is. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.”
Your body hums in response from your heart down to your stomach. “Why’s that?”
He pauses. Then, without breaking eye contact, he smiles and leans in toward you. “What do you think?”
Jaemin smells faintly of oranges. Your head spins at the proximity. You can’t come up with something witty, even if you wanted to. “I–”
At the same time, Sunghoon loses his footing and falls to the ice with an oof. Both of your heads whip towards your friend, who rises and wipes the ice off of his clothes.
“You good?” You half-shout toward your friend.
He shoots you a thumbs up in response before continuing.
Jaemin gazes at you, but you’ve lost your nerve.
“It’s nice to be here with both of you again,” you say as you unlock your phone and sit back down. “It’s as if you never left.”
“Me too,” Jaemin says softly. “It’s just like old times.”
❅˚
It’s three weeks before the show. You rush to the rink alone this time to fit a makeup practice into your and Jaemin’s busy schedules. You groan internally knowing that it falls on your rest day, but the practice is needed. Between both of your training schedules, you had to take the free moments when they come.
You pick up coffees on the way. It’s the first time you’ve driven to practice by yourself in a week, and your nerves rise as you drive closer and closer.
There shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Sure, you and Jaemin still have parts of your routine to work on, but progress has been smooth up to this point.
You’re unable to shake off the feeling as you arrive thirty minutes early. You turn off your car and linger in the driver’s seat. You have two options: scroll on your phone in the car or head in early. The latter wouldn’t make sense under normal circumstances—if Jaemin wasn’t practicing.
You glance at the two drinks sitting in your cupholders. Surely there’s no harm in peeking?
You exit the car, both drinks in hand, before you can change your mind. You enter the rink with a sheepish energy, although you’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.
Jaemin’s alternating through basic circle skills. His coach watches at the sideline with a stopwatch in one hand and a phone recording the drill in its entirety from a stand.
More than the difficulty of speed skating itself, you can’t believe that Jaemin has been balancing it alongside the training for the gala. Not only are the skates completely different, but the main mechanics require raw power and endurance. Much different from the slower, technical precision of ice dance.
Despite no spins or jumps, he makes it look graceful. You make a mental note to attend his first competition. You could watch him skate forever, regardless of discipline.
Jaemin’s coach calls him in, reviewing the footage and giving feedback. His expression is neutral, and Jaemin merely nods and repeats the drill each time. It goes on that way until the end of his practice time.
You wave as Jaemin exits off the ice and down the ramp toward you. He blinks, and his steps stutter for a moment before he continues.
“Morning,” you avoid eye contact as you hold out his iced coffee. He hadn’t noticed you during his practice, but you feel shy nonetheless. “Got here a little early.”
“Oh,” Jaemin grimaces. “So you saw all that?”
“What do you mean?” You ask. “I thought you looked great.”
He scoffs. He focuses on something distant over your shoulder. “I don’t know if I would describe it as great.”
You’re at a loss for words. The scenario feels familiar—hell, you’d gotten this way during practice for your solo exhibition—but you don’t have enough technical knowledge of speed skating to immediately understand what happened. Beyond that, it’s rare to see Jaemin so quiet.
Your expression must be comically transparent, because you watch his eyes lock to yours and register your wide stare.
“Sorry, you just caught me at a weird practice,” he clears his throat. “I’ll be ready in fifteen?”
The gesture does little to settle you, but you manage your own uneasy smile. “Take your time. I’ll warm up.”
You’ve never been more grateful for the familiarity of center ice. You run through a quick warmup routine and even squeeze in a couple rough rehearsals of your solo routine for the show.
“Looks good,” Jaemin says as he finally steps onto the ice. “I almost feel bad to make you split your program in half.”
“You’re not making me do anything.” You frown. After everything the two of you have been through to get to this point, his sudden minimization makes you worry.
“Well, you know,” he says, alternating between the inner and outer edges of his blades in small swizzles.
“No, I don’t know,” you shake your head stubbornly. You glide in front of him without breaking eye contact. “I’m doing this because I want to. I want to skate with you.”
It’s the most forward you’ve been, but his expression doesn’t budge. Instead, he just nods. “Shall we?”
The two of you run through the routine a few times, but it’s as though the last few weeks have been for nothing. No matter how many times you restart or run through the counts slowly, the two of you struggle to sync. Rather—you know you’re hitting your movements, but Jaemin merely seems to be going through the motions.
When his hold on you wobbles on the ending pose, you snap yourself out of his arms and huff. “Okay, seriously. We’re done for today. Let’s go.”
Of all things, that seems to wake Jaemin from his daze. He skates after you. “Wait, I’m just off today—”
You ignore him, stepping off of the ice and into your skate guards. You briefly turn around to catch his eye.
Jaemin’s hovering on the ice by the door, watching you. His eyes plead.
You wave your arm towards you in a come here gesture. His face brightens, and he hurriedly follows after you.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out when he’s close to you.
You shake your head. “Wanna get lunch?”
-
You stare at each other from across the table.
“You first,” you point to Jaemin’s burger, which has arrived at your table first. “Don’t wait for me.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited to eat, but,” Jaemin crosses his arms. “Do you have to stare at me?”
You say nothing even as the server brings your own food over.
Jaemin sighs but starts eating nonetheless. “Happy?”
“Yes,” you say as you pick at your fries.
“If this is a way to make sure I’m eating, I don’t have issues with dieting while competing,” he mutters between bites. “Luckily.”
“Trust me, it’s not about that,” you laugh. “I know you can eat.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So then…?”
“You were just super out of it today,” you shrug. “You’ve been training pretty intensely this week, right?”
He frowns. “I have, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Compared to the work schedule I was doing before coming back to skating, it’s more or less the same.”
You point a fry at him accusingly. “There. That’s the issue.”
“That I work?”
“That you’re not taking time to not work.”
“No offense,” the words come out slowly, “but aren’t you, like, famously known for never taking breaks?”
You shake your head. “That was pre-injury me. Current me takes breaks. I have hobbies.”
“I have hobbies,” he insists.
“That you’ve invested in recently?” You ask. "Actively?"
He hesitates. “So what, burger eating is supposed to be my next hobby? I don’t struggle with diets, but that one might be hard.”
“Ha ha,” you say flatly. “I just wanted to get you away from training. You love burgers.”
Jaemin looks down at his burger, as if the sandwich itself has betrayed him. “I do,” he sighs. “You don’t need to baby me. I’m a grown man.”
“I know,” you say, looking away. “I just wanted to get your mind off of everything. You’re doing a lot.”
A small silence stretches between you. You can feel Jaemin’s gaze probing over your side profile, but you pretend to look around the restaurant.
“Do you still like bingsu?”
“I–” Jaemin’s smile is bright as day, and, more importantly, it’s genuine. You relax“I do.”
“Wanna go to the cafe near Sunghoon’s place?”
You exhale a relieved breath. “That sounds amazing.”
❅˚
“Quick break?” Jaemin pants after a full run through of your routine.
You simply nod, trying to catch your own breath. The two of you skate to the side without a word.
You pull out your phone. Mei’s sent you three images over text with a short question—Received all the photos for promo. You sure you’re okay with the team using these?
As a part of promotional material for the ice show, all three of you—Sunghoon, Jaemin, and yourself—had submitted throwback pictures to be posted by the official account.
Your picture depicted five-year-old you at your very first skating lesson—pink puffer and helmet in full display. It’s one of your favorites.
Sunghoon’s picture, to your surprise, has both of you in it. It must be from middle school, since you’re dressed in costuming from your first and final pairs competition together.
“What the hell?” Your jaw drops as you inspect the image. Jaemin glances over your shoulder, and you turn your phone to show him. “This is the last thing I would’ve expected him to send. I don’t think I even have any pictures of us from that era.”
Jaemin laughs. “Maybe since they asked Sunghoon for something from middle school? He was complaining about it. They asked me for elementary school pictures, so I had it easy.”
Sure enough, the last picture shows the three of you after a group private lesson together. Jaemin’s in the center smiling wide and bright. Sunghoon’s smile is reserved and slightly awkward to Jaemin’s right. You, on the opposite side, cling to Jaemin’s side in a big hug with an even bigger smile.
There it is. A wave of shyness. “I don’t think I have this one either.”
“It’s my favorite.”
“It feels like forever ago.” Your throat constricts as you speak.
“It’s certainly been a long time since then,” Jaemin says. His eyes are glued to the picture of the three of you. His lips soften into a smile.
“I can’t believe Sunghoon and I thought we could be partners,” you cough and wrinkle your nose. “I don’t think his arm strength would’ve kept up. And we would’ve killed each other.”
It’s as if Jaemin doesn’t hear you. “Do you wanna hear something funny?”
“Does it involve that one time Sunghoon dropped me on the ice, your mom took me to urgent care, and then that incident single-handedly made me quit pairs?”
“No, but that’s good.” Jaemin’s smile still floats on his face with a hint of mischievousness, like he’s keeping a secret.
“What is it, then?”
“I used to be so jealous of Sunghoon,” he laughs. “And look at us now, practicing the choreography for an exhibition performance as partners.”
Your mind goes blank. “Jealous? Why?”
He seems to snap out of his reverie at your question, expression growing a little shy. He shrugs “Well, you know.”
“Um, no, I don’t know.”
“Well, childhood crushes and all that,” he says quickly. He queues up the music on his phone. “So jealous over random things. Anyway, ready to practice the second half?”
He skates away to put his phone down on the ledge and start the music before you can respond. What he hasn’t calculated is that he will need to skate right back to you to practice the step sequence. Two can play at this game.
“Funny you say that,” you mutter as he takes your hand. “Considering my childhood self would’ve killed to be paired with you.”
He swallows thickly. You can tell he’s trying to tune into the music, but his steps are half a beat off. “Meaning?”
You’re not going to make it that easy for him. “Same thing that you meant.”
The step sequence is naturally push-and-pull as Jaemin leads you through each stroke and turn, but today it feels like something more: a balance of power.
“We were partners before,” he murmurs before his hands anchor on your hips to guide you into a synchronized spin.
“Briefly,” you say once you complete it. “But I was devastated when you quit altogether. I would’ve done anything to keep skating with you.”
You maintain eye contact through the remainder of this practice. There’s a charged feeling in every movement, every touch. Even when the steps call for distance, you feel the inevitable pull to come back together. In fact, it never feels close enough.
The two of you slide into a stop at the end of your choreography, but you keep staring at each other long after the song has ended. Jaemin’s brown eyes roam your features hungrily, until his gaze settles on your lips.
Jaemin's going to kiss you.
Time slows. The rink lights overhead make your eyes water, and your mind resurfaces into a complete blank. There's not much choice otherwise—not with his lips nearing yours.
You close your eyes, trembling from your head to your blades as your heart rattles against your ribcage.
Lips graze against your cheek. Gentle hands drift onto your cheeks after.
Your eyelids flutter open. Jaemin's face hovers in front of yours. His features flush in a soft pink, but his eyes seem to droop. The corners of his lips quiver up in a sad half-smile.
"Not now," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sorry."
You come to your senses as he skates away, blinking around at your surroundings, as if you've woken up from a long sleep.
No words are exchanged as you both grab your things and exit. It's hardly mumbles of goodbye before going your separate ways.
You slam the car door closed and exist in the silence.
Although it just occurred, you're already winding back the events and weighing what could've been done differently.
You should've demanded answers; pushed him away and left in a storm. Or, maybe, you should've done the opposite—allowed all of your real emotions to sweep and pull at your face.
In actuality, you have no real confidence in the efficacy of either. You just hate the way it ended: neutral, as if you're two strangers rather than friends pushing at something more—not that you had the faintest idea of what. Just…something.
Even later that night, the exact details blur together, feeling more like a hallucination more than a memory. Had you made it up in your head? No, Jaemin was definitely flirting with you. Again. But Jaemin flirted with everyone—well, no, it does feel different when Jaemin flirts with you. Tender.
The moment replays over and over again, trapped within your thoughts. You try to sleep, but your mind is too busy fixing itself on the minute details: how his hands felt around you, the soft brush of Jaemin's lips against your skin.
All of your previous confidence feels like it evaporated from your body. All that filled your mind at the time was the near-aching urge to unleash your pent-up feelings. There had been absolutely no regard for the meaning afterwards, not that it mattered—he pulled away anyway. A wisp of a rejection.
If it happened, would it have even meant anything? You muse to yourself as you trace the lines of your ceiling. It could totally have just been harmless flirting.
For yourself, you know there's only one answer. You're well beyond dismissing your behavior with Jaemin as remnants of an old crush. Still, you wonder when they turned into more, as you can't pinpoint when they intensified. It's as if these new feelings could consume the old ones in their entirety.
You wonder if this newfound hunger will ever be satiated. This is more time than you could've imagined spending with Na Jaemin, but it never feels like enough.
You wonder if Jaemin is thinking of you half as much as you're thinking of him right now.
The thought barely fades when, like a sick, cosmic joke, your phone vibrates on your nightstand. Na Jaemin flashes on the screen.
You lunge for it and straighten your posture, clearing your throat and sliding a finger across the screen to answer. "Hey. What's up?"
"Hey," Jaemin says. "Did you see the group chat? What do you think?"
"Uh, no. I didn't see it," you admit. "What's up?"
"Coach Brown's wife asked if we want to visit him. Since he was cleared to finish his recovery at home."
"Oh—yeah, of course." The words come out rushed. It's as if you're speaking with a mouth filled with cotton balls. "I'm down."
"Cool."
"Are…are we all going?" You ask, then immediately regret it.
"Yes, of course." A pause. "I can take you tomorrow. Since we'll be going after the team meeting."
"Team meeting—?" Ah. The meeting with Mei and Jeff. "Right—yeah, we can carpool. If you don't mind."
"I don't," he says. "I'll pick you up at 1:30?"
"Sounds good."
"About today," Jaemin blurts out. "I'm sorry."
You slouch and close your eyes. "Sorry for what exactly, Jaem?"
"Well—we almost—you know." It's the most you've ever heard him stumble over his words. You would kill to see what flustered looks like brushed over his face. "Right?"
"So you're sorry that we almost kissed." The words flatten as you speak.
"God—can we talk? After our meeting? Or after we visit Coach Brown?"
Stress laces through his tone. Your heart sinks. "Of course."
Jaemin waits for a beat, but you refuse to give in. You don't want to have this conversation over the phone either, and he already offered.
"Good night, Jaemin," you offer.
"…Good night," he murmurs. "Sleep well."
You toss your phone back on the nightstand and cover yourself with the blankets. After that, you're in for the most restless sleep of your life.
"Last alignment meeting," Jaemin says on the way in. "Ready to do this thing?"
You force a smile. Not only are you reeling after a grand total of four hours of sleep, but the car ride over had been little more than dull niceties. "Something along those lines."
He frowns, but you pick up your pace and barrel inside.
Jaemin ends up drifting towards Jeff, although he looks over his shoulder at you.
You shrug and sit at the other end of the table, waiting for Mei to arrive.
Jaemin and Jeff huddle at the front of the table, gesturing and whispering among themselves. They only snap to attention when Mei strides in and shuts the door closed with extra force.
"Good afternoon," Jeff greets with his usual professionalism.
Mei and Jeff jump into reviewing the analytics from the last month. It lives up to your expectations; ever since the ice show announcements and promos ran, it was like someone hit a switch. You—according to sources, since you still avoided social media like the plague—were showing up less in search inquiries. If you were, then content leaned more supportive.
Still, looking at the cold hard numbers, it's clear that Jaemin's growth is unstoppable. Your followers grew by nearly triple, sure, but his total follower count still runs laps around yours.
"I think fans are just grateful to see you so active," Mei explains.
You steal a glance at Jaemin. His face gives away nothing. He looks like a statue, his expression carved in fierce stoicism.
By all metrics, both of your social media profiles look healthier than ever. Buzz has calmed down, and, by some miracle, your "relationship" appears to be accepted by the general public.
"In my opinion—we'll wrap with the ice show, both parties can post the photos from the event, and I think the performance will speak for itself!" For someone so corporate, Jeff looks downright giddy.
You and Mei meet his enthusiasm with tempered applause. Jaemin doesn't even look up.
"Well, there is one matter we should discuss, now that we're at the tail end of things." Jeff's voice turns into the poised tone you're familiar with. "When to announce the breakup."
It shouldn't have this much of an effect on you—it's a fake relationship, after all!—but your body stiffens on its own. You cross your arms over your chest.
You expect Jeff to defer to Mei, but he clears his throat to continue.
"A development that we will not be officially announcing anytime soon…Jaemin is planning on moving back to his old rink."
Your eyes snap to Jaemin. He's already looking at you, assessing your every minute reaction.
"His current coach divulged that he's moving up his retirement timeline. Jaemin's going to add his new coach onto his official team as support for now, then he'll make the hard switch next season."
The same sad glimmer from yesterday shines in his eyes. You understand in an instant—he knew it, even then.
"We're thinking, to leverage the speed skating season, we'll have Jaemin withdraw significantly from posting on social media. That way, breakup rumors and potential fallout can be addressed outside of the season for both sports."
"So no official announcement," Mei muses. "Just a fizzle out."
Jeff nods. "Just a fizzle."
"We'll discuss." Mei glances at you in the corner of her eye, so quick you almost miss it. "For now, we'll just aim to keep social media normal following the show."
You don't want to discuss it. You want to eject yourself from this meeting and dash under the covers, but today is not an option. Not when you, Jaemin, and Sunghoon have a scheduled visit with Coach Brown.
"Ready?" Jaemin asks after the meeting wraps.
You nod without a word and follow him to his car.
"I know you're mad," Jaemin rushes through his words right when your door closes. "Let me explain."
"No need," you say while pulling the seatbelt tight across your torso. "I think Jeff gave us the appropriate context. You're switching coaches, so you already decided to leave."
He runs a hand through his hair. "It's really not my choice. I didn't expect this at all."
You shrug. "Things happen."
Jaemin glances at you, but you train your gaze ahead. "Are you mad because—"
You cut him off. "This isn't a guessing game. It's either you have something to say, or you say nothing."
Jaemin's temper is rarely put to the test, but today you come very close: clenched jaw, sharp brows.
"You know what?" He says. "We'll just talk after we see Coach Brown."
"Fine by me."
Jaemin starts the ignition and snaps the gears into reverse. As both of you have decided there's nothing to say, you spend the entire car ride in pointed silence.
"It's so sweet of you kids to come out here and visit him," Mrs. Brown leaves a bowl of fruit on the center of the table. Not even thirty seconds later, she's back with pretzels. Thirty seconds after that, cookies.
"That's all right, Cynthia," Coach Brown chuckles. "You're going to scare the poor things off."
You, Jaemin, and Sunghoon sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the coach with small smiles. Sunghoon, with his endless generosity, insisted that Jaemin sit in the middle. You initially wanted to strangle Sunghoon, but you also can't help but be hyperaware of Jaemin's muscles pressing into your own.
Despite the current weirdness between two-thirds of you, this was something that didn't need to be discussed at all. Although, sitting here, you and Sunghoon fiddle with your hands and squirm a little in the heavy atmosphere. In situations like this, it's difficult to know the right things to say.
Jaemin leans forward, stands up, and shuffles over to Coach Brown's bedside. "You gotta look at this, coach," he laughs.
While you and Sunghoon sit glued to the couch, the whispers of what you want to say lodged firmly in your throats, Jaemin chatters on like it's just another day.
You feel a flash of pride. Then hurt.
How was it so easy for him to go about and act as though nothing affected him?
You shake the thoughts from your head. This isn't about you.
The three of you relax more through the visit, although Mrs. Brown gently cuts it short to allow Coach Brown to rest.
You all wave goodbye and promise to come again, then you're standing in the parking lot, hovering by your cars.
You're about to ask Sunghoon to drive you when he speaks first. "Jaemin, you can take her back, right? I have something else after this that I already committed to."
The bastard is lying; you know for a fact he's playing nothing but video games tonight. He meets your eyes and grins.
Your welcome, he mouths, none the wiser.
You roll your eyes.
"Yeah, I was going to take her anyway," Jaemin says, shooting you a suspicious side glance.
The two of you say bye to Sunghoon and step back into Jaemin's car. Instead of saying anything, he turns the music up until the bass reverberates the entire car. You spend the drive listening to bass boosted music and wonder if he's lost his mind. Still, you tolerate it—until he takes a couple wrong turns.
"What the hell are you doing?" You try to shout, but the music drowns out your words.
He doesn't even glance at you. You realize, scanning the horizon, that he's driving you to the park nearest to your house. Jaemin pulls into a spot, turning to you when he turns off the engine.
"Want to go on a walk and talk?"
You've often driven past your local park on weekends, swarming with families and soccer games, but today, on a random weekend evening, it's peaceful. The sunset just barely kisses the horizon, blending shades of orange and pink across the sky.
Jaemin walks at your side in shorts and a gray sweatshirt. His hoodie's pulled up, and you're wearing one of his baseball caps over your head.
You walk side-by-side for a while, kicking rocks down the pavement.
After a while, he finally speaks first. "I'm sorry for not telling you directly about the move."
You stiffen. Your legs are still in motion, but your movements feel robotic. Yeah, you'd wanted him to figure it out on his own, but you weren't expecting him to actually know so fast.
Your surprise must show, because Jaemin then clicks his tongue and exhales. "Whew. That must've really pissed you off, if you're that surprised that I got it right."
You find your voice. "Yeah. I didn't love hearing about it through your team. Again."
He winces. "I know. I told him not to mention it, but he kinda went a little rogue there."
"No." You shake your head. "It's not just that aspect of it."
Confusion. "Then…?"
You shrug and throw your arms up. "I wish you told me yourself, Jaemin. No team. Not because you need to tell me in the name of the contract. I wanted you to tell me, face to face, friend to friend."
His jaw drops. "I—"
"I thought we've grown since the start." You hate how your voice trembles. "You knew how upset I was when this started, but you went ahead and did the same exact thing. No mention of these deliberations, even when I see you every day. It's like I mean nothing—"
A shadow crosses his face. "Don't finish that sentence," he snaps.
The two of you are stopped in the furthermost part of the path by a cluster of trees, hidden in the corner from the rest of the park-goers.
You poke a finger into his chest with each word. "I. Mean. Nothing. To—"
It all happens in one swift motion. Jaemin grabs your wrist before you can poke him again, then he tugs you wholly into his chest. His eyes flash before he crashes his lips onto yours.
Your first kiss with Jaemin is the opposite of your near-kiss; from the beginning, you collide, rough and wild, pushing against the other.
This is what you missed out on; it could've just been like this at the rink, too. The realization fuels another flash of irritation paired with a slight thrill. Kissing Jaemin gives you the same rush as competing. Pure adrenaline and dopamine override your senses.
All you can think about is his lips on yours. From the way he pulls you close, hands firmly placed on your back and hips, you know he's equally as lost.
More, you think. The urge completes the thought you've pushed back for months: regardless of the extensive time you've spent together, it will never feel like enough. Down to the level of comfort, the silent understanding, and now the physicality—in this moment, you never want to let Jaemin go.
Probing, you swipe your tongue across his lower lip. He hesitates, easing the pace into slow rhythms. It's not an outright denial—you try again, this time lightly nibbling.
"Alright," he pulls away and presses his forehead to yours as you both catch your breath. "That's enough."
"You started it," you huff with a laugh.
He laughs, then scans around your surroundings. It's not the smartest thing, but there's no one around now, at least.
You lean back in, but he shakes his head. "Can we just…talk?"
He sits down on the closest bench and gestures next to him. You follow.
"I'm sorry for not telling you. It was true though—I wanted you to hear it from me."
You bite your lip. "I believe you."
"I'm sorry for…doing that, too. Just now," he adds.
The relief evaporates immediately. "And you're sorry about…what, exactly?" You ask coolly.
He pales. "I—"
"No more beating around the bush, or going through our teams," you say. "Just tell me what you're thinking please. I think I deserve the truth."
Jaemin thinks for a minute, then grins. "I have feelings for you."
"Jesus, Jaem—" Your whole body feels like it's burning up and smoking into the evening sky.
"What?" He shrugs. "I wanted to just get that out in the open, before you start getting ideas that you don't mean anything to me."
He gives you a pointed look. You stick your tongue out at him.
"I'll say that too. You mean a lot to me."
"I get it," you grumble. His charm has completely disarmed you. "You mean a lot to me too."
His smile shines bright and blinding, even against dusk. "I'll be here for this season before moving, then I'll be three hours away. I still want to give us a try. We can try to make it work even through our schedules."
Even through the warmth of his confession, a cold dose of reality hits you when reminded of your own impending training. "Jaemin…that might get a little crazy, don't you think? Training schedules are one thing, but competition and travel are another."
"I want to go to your competitions," he declares. "At least a good amount of them. I want people to see me supporting you."
You should be happy—after all, Jaemin's discarding his notorious privacy—but the thought of the general public remaining permanent witnesses to your private life makes your stomach coil. Your mind leaps to the worst possibility—what if you flopped next season? Would you retire, disgraced? Would they talk about you online—Na Jaemin's girlfriend, a washed-up skater anchored to him by memories?
"Even if your girlfriend doesn't reach the same legend status?" You ask with a bitter smile.
Jaemin deflates. "You've had a great career."
There it is: had.
You sigh. "Can I think about it?"
"Why?" He demands.
"I just—I want to think about it Jaemin, jeez! One day you don't want to kiss me, the next day you're kissing me and telling me that you want to be together—it's a lot."
"You wanted me to be open and honest," he says quietly. "So I'm leaving it all out there."
He's right. You're being a massive hypocrite, and he's presenting everything that you've wanted right there.
Even with the perfect man offering you everything, you can't shake the rotten doubt that it's too good to be true. You'll ruin what you have, just like you've ruined everything else.
"I mean, I've said it before, but I still think that my image benefited from this arrangement more than yours."
"Come on," he says, hugging you from behind. "You know I don't care about that stuff. "
"I know." You lean back into his chest. It's almost easier to speak openly when you're not looking directly at him. "It's just…when I think about it—really try to think about it—I don't know how everything's supposed to fit together. Once we both go back to training full-time."
His hug on you loosens a little, although you feel his shoulders tighten. "Like…you don't know where I fit into your life after this?"
"No," you respond, then hesitate. "It's like…"
That was the thing—for all of the time you'd spent out of the other's orbit, it was now hard to picture your life without Jaemin's presence. You could see the possibilities laid out clearly: going to his competitions or watching them online if you were out of town. Calling him before your events to calm your nerves, then calling him again after to debrief.
Undoubtedly, Jaemin brought the levity into your life that had been missing for years. But when you tried to conjure your role in his life, your mind drew a big, looming blank.
"I just don't know how I'm going to fit in your life, Jaem," you admit, your voice low and quiet. "We're so different. You're a success that's able to just climb and climb, and I've been struggling for the past five years. I don't know if I belong in your world."
His voice drops. "It's the same world."
"You know I don't mean literally." You untangle your limbs and turn to face him.
Jaemin's lips tighten into a straight line that's neither a smile nor a frown. There's the slightest crease bending between his eyebrows.
Your chest constricts at the sight, and you struggle to breathe. More than the sadness pooling in his features, there's something worse under the surface: disappointment.
You open and close your mouth, forgetting your words, but Jaemin speaks first.
"Do you know you have a tell when you jump?" He says.
"I—excuse me?"
"It has nothing to do with your speed, or even your technique right as you load into it," his eyes turn fiery. "I can tell if you're going to land it based on your expression alone. When you're about to land it, you get this cute, determined scrunch across your whole face. When you're about to pop it or mess up the landing, you get this scared look in your eyes. Like you're about to cry, even before you take off."
"So what?" You manage to choke up. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're giving me the same face right now, babe." Jaemin looks tired. "You look like you don't believe in this at all."
"I just need time."
"Then you can have it."
Silence stretches and expands between you. You hate this. You want to grab his hand and tell him that everything is going to be okay, but you can't make promises that you're not sure you can keep. You're hurting both of you in the process, but you can't stop.
"I just need time," you repeat, a broken record. "After the show?"
"Okay. We'll talk about it then." You see it cross his face again. Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. "Let me take you home."
You finish the final touches of your makeup. You take a deep breath.
You're wearing the same dress from your Nationals free program. The ice blue fabric clings to your torso before flowing down your legs in sweeping waves.
You'd selected this dress for the show shortly after Nationals concluded—it was one of your favorites, and you hadn't been in the mindset to pursue a new look on a tight timeline, anyway—but you feel a brief flash of regret.
Dressed like this, it's impossible to not think about the last time you wore this dress. What started as yet another sad stamp in your fractured career pivoted to so much more. Your near-catastrophic failure of a program turned comeback, followed by the return of Jaemin into your personal life.
You pick up your phone, thinking to text Jaemin your revelation, only to remember and put it back down again. You'd left for the rink without checking whether he'd extend an offer to carpool or, at minimum, reach out at all to clear the air. He didn't—now, your first time seeing him today would be within the next thirty minutes, right before your show together.
A deep urge digs at your gut. You want to march right into the room you're mostly sure Jaemin's getting ready in with Sunghoon, drag him out, and demand answers. That, despite everything, he hasn't given up on you.
It's just an instinct. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes. A deep breath.
As you are choosing to handle this maturely (which rules out marching into his dressing room), you brace yourself for what's bound to be your first encounter: your off-ice warm up.
You've shown up ten minutes early. You're cycling through your second round of dynamic movements—light jogs, lunges, leg swings—until the remaining skaters begin to turn the corner.
You hear the slight lapse in chatter, but you ignore it. You're only looking for one face in the crowd.
A hand grabs your bicep. Sunghoon. "Hey, what's going on?" He hisses low into your ear. "Jaemin's pissed."
You swallow. "How pissed?"
"Pissed." His eyes narrow. "You don't seem surprised."
"Well, I…" A familiar figure rises in your peripheral. You free yourself from Sunghoon's grip. "I'm handling it. Promise."
Worry crosses his face. "Is that…good timing right now? Right before everything?"
Your confidence droops a little, but you push through it. "The timing is shit, but it has to be now."
Sunghoon releases your arm. You step forward toward the corner of the space, where Jaemin warms up with a small group of skaters.
He's wearing full-length black trousers that elongate his legs. His long-sleeved top echoes yours in shades of white blending into ice blue. A perfect pair.
You haven't seen him in days. It's like observing him through the lens of a stranger as he enraptures the attention of all around him with endless charm.
For the first time, it occurs to you; if you truly step away, this could be your new reality. Rooting for him from a distance rather than working through each struggle together. Polite yet restrained smiles of acknowledgement that refuse to reopen old wounds. The thought makes you ache.
You know it, then. You can't bear the thought of becoming strangers to one another again. As much as it stings to face your fears, the possibility of losing Jaemin hurts you more.
Rationally, you know that you can only blame yourself for this current situation—after all, it was your insecurities that had pushed him away.
Time after time, Jaemin had proven his genuine feelings and intentions toward you. This time, it was your duty to do the same.
Despite your reassurance to Sunghoon, you're scared to confront him. You're scared, but you push through anyway. You know, deep down, that going on the ice with Jaemin without addressing anything first will crack something deep in your foundation. You don't know how he'll react, and you don't want to find out.
"Hi," you breathe out from a slight distance.
Jaemin steps away from the group. His expression controls itself in an even neutrality, but he scans over your costume and over the details of your makeup.
"Hi," he responds.
A pause. There's a million things you want to say—what you know you should say, but you have no idea where to start.
"Are you ready?" You ask weakly.
"Yes." Then, he adds. "You don't need to worry. We'll give them a good show."
A good show. They're innocent words by themselves, but the accompanied tone leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
"Performance," you can't help but correct. "We'll give them a good genuine performance."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that not what I just said?"
He's messing with you. The cold shoulder sends hot desperation down your spine.
"Please don't be like this," you plead with him. "Can we just talk?"
"We are talking." He doesn't even look up at you.
"Come on, Jaemin. You know what I mean."
He leans down to retie the laces on his skate. He pulls so tight that the fibers creak against the boot. "I have been talking to you. Ever since we crossed paths again—I think I've been more than clear about where I stand. You're the one that needs more time."
"I don't need any more time." You admit. Your throat is raw. "I don't."
He stops.
This is it, you think.
Except, it's the opposite. Jaemin finishes lacing up his skates in a flash of panic and darts away.
"Jaemin," you call after him. You double back, grabbing your bag before taking off after him.
He weaves past the other skaters, who look at the pair of you with either curiosity or confusion. You're sure that some sort of account of this will end up on some sort of gossip blog or forum later on.
It's not hard to catch up to Jaemin, given that he's hobbling on top of blades covered by blocky skate guards. You end up cornering him in his own dressing room.
"Are you done?" You ask, exasperated. "We don't have time for this. I'm on in fifteen, then you're on with me right after."
"Yeah," he mutters, eyes darting around the room to and fro. "Let's not do this now. Let's wait."
"No way." You're blocking the door now. "God, just—listen to me, babe."
The pet name hangs in the air between you.
Realization dawns on his face, and an uneasy smile stretches completely across his features. "I'm listening."
"Thank you," you cough. Your face feels hot enough to melt ice. "I messed up yesterday."
He nods and waits for you to continue.
"Ever since you came back into my life, it's just felt like everything spiraled out of my control. Having you back and supporting me wholeheartedly while I've been struggling for so many years…" You frown while trying to find the words. "I guess I didn't believe it. I didn't feel like me or any of the work I've done for the past few years was worth that sort of blind optimism."
"It's not blind," he offers.
You ignore him. "You're perfect in, like, everything you do. I had you up on this crazy high pedestal, and I thought I would never be able to actually meet you there."
You look at Jaemin. His gaze is soft.
"You show everyone the best sides of you, but I want to see all of it. Whether you're excited or irritated at how training went, if you're annoyed at your fanbase." You draw in a breath. "I want to see all of you. I want to be with you, after this. Away from the cameras, and just for us."
Jaemin's eyes roam over your face. Then, he exhales loudly and hangs his head on top of his thighs. His shoulders shake as he laughs to himself. "Good god…"
Everything burns. "What?"
He rises to his feet and stands above you. His hands cradle your chin, their touch cool yet gentle. "I shouldn't have lost my temper at you. I'm sorry."
Your throat is dry. "Then…?"
"I got carried away even letting myself think that an idea of us would be possible." Jaemin admits. "I wasn't thinking enough about how you felt."
You nod your head wordlessly, transfixed by his words.
"You don't give yourself enough credit. Your work ethic, your charisma…you don't have to prove anything to anyone." He pauses. "It's not like anyone's perception of us will change, since I guess we're already publicly dating, but I'm ready to love you out loud. Whenever you're ready."
"Love."Your head spins. "Jaemin—"
"Jaemin, you don't know that you love me. Wrong." he anticipates your words with a shit-eating grin. His thumbs caress your cheeks. "I didn't realize it at the time because I'm such a dumbass, but I think I've loved you my whole life."
You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks, which slightly overlaps with his hands lining the sides of your face. "You have?"
"Yup." He takes one of your hands in his and presses a soft kiss to your skin. "No pressure to say it back, though. Take your time."
You don't need time; you've always known it deep down. Regardless of location, age, or circumstances, Jaemin's always reserved a space within your heart.
"One minute," you murmur, reaching for your bag. A pink bunny plushie slides out, and you hand it into the hands of the original gift-giver.
"Mr. Hops?" Jaemin tilts his head.
"I don't compete without him," you lower your gaze shyly. "So I guess you'll be in charge of making sure I have it at competitions."
Jaemin hugs him tight. "I—"
"What I'm trying to say is," you take a step towards him. "I love you too."
Jaemin closes the gap between you. The kiss carries all of your conflicting emotions and promises that you're still a little scared to say out loud. All you know for sure are two things: first, you love Jaemin, and second, to love Jaemin, you're determined to be more comfortable with the unknown.
"Jaemin, I've been knocking, you're on—" Sunghoon lingers in the threshold, jaw dropped. "What the hell?"
The room falls into wide stares. You jump away with your arms raised in surrender, Jaemin squeezes Mr. Hops to his chest, and Sunghoon points a silent, accusatory finger around the room.
"I've been looking for you, Jaemin," his finger moves to you. "You're on in like, five minutes." Finally, it lands at Jaemin's arms. "Why is Mr. Hops here?"
"We can explain," you blurt out.
Sunghoon glares at you. "You're going to explain, you dirty liar. After. You guys have to get your asses out there first."
The corners of Jaemin's eyes crinkle as he looks at you. You feel a warm swell of affection in your chest.
There's so much more you want to say to him, but the show must go on. For now, you press a quick peck to his lips and interlace your fingers together. "Ready?"
Jaemin's smile is so wide that it looks like he might explode with happiness. "For you? Anytime."
Sunghoon fake gags but holds the door open for you.
You hold hands the entire way to the ice. The crowd loses it. You faintly perceive the screams and camera flashes, but all you focus on is the feeling of Jaemin's hand in yours.
When you step on the ice, you think, this time, that this is just the beginning.
cw: a luh inappropriate, smutty — mentions of sex, pretty sure i cursed oops
ok so fuckboy anton🤤 he’s not in a frat. like sorry, he’s just not,, but for the sake of the fic we are in college. i live for a college au, so here we are, and it is known amongst your entire student body that anton is one that guy. like people don’t wanna invite him to parties cs they don’t want their talking stages to get took.
not even in a super negative way. he’s generally quite chill & quiet so fuckboy!anton would never be a sleazy guy who just picks up as many women as possible. he’s more of a pussy magnet — the ladies love him (& do), he can’t help it.
for example. that one time he met you at a college party, and let’s be real, you approached him, because he’s just so sweet looking and approachable and you felt like you could just talk to him all night and you end up drawn in by the fact that he’s so soft-spoken and polite; he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
and he’s sooo interested in your life and what you have to say; “oh what classes are you in?” “which dorms do you stay in?” “you like it? yeah? that’s good.”
and then a few hours later he’s putting your ass through the mattress. like he’s going in. and from his general demeanor, you never would have expected him to have you like this, which honestly just amplifies the whole experience.
i’m talking he got your legs up over his shoulders, thumbing your clit with one hand and holding your face with the other while he fucks into you at a calculated rhythm. like he knows what the fuck he’s doing and he wants your pleasure just as bad as he wants his own. and looking up from under him, you swear you’ve fallen in love.
& lemme just say he’s not a fuckboy boy on purpose.., he’s really a gentleman. the fuckboy life just chose him.
he’ll kiss you like he loves you and call you all the pet names in the book. and he does you so good that when you don’t hear from him again because he forgot to give you his number — you’re not even mad. you can’t be. cs on some level, you don’t even know whether you did bag him for that one night, or if it was just a wet dream.
a/n; thank you for the many anons about anton ive expanded out of nct territory,, keep the asks comin
cw: cursingggg, reader likes em submissive🤣 she just like me, making out, mama as a pet name, smut — anton gets hard from kissing, p in v sex, him talking nasty asf, he kinda cries, very switch vibes from him
summary: having a boy best friend is so embarrassing
“you know i almost died last night, bro?”
absentmindedly tapping on his bowl of cereal, anton leaned forward against the counter of his kitchenette. his brows furrowed in confusion. “you what?”
“so, i was using the bathroom last night, right,”
“uh… huh.”
“and some random girl just walked in and flicked the light on.” you reached into anton’s fridge to get a bottle of water, “i thought you were getting robbed.”
anton almost choked on his cereal, “oh no, i’m sorry. i think i actually heard you both yell.”
“yeah, you need to fuckin’ warn me, man. don’t let me stay over and then have girls over. i got cussed out.”
anton tried to stifle his laugh — to absolutely no avail.
all you wanted to do was quietly use the bathroom and you decided to leave the light off to like… save energy. only to end up being scared out of your skin by one of anton’s late night companions.
“god, what the hell!” the girl jumped backwards, almost hitting her head on the doorframe as you reached to cover yourself. “who are you??”
you raised a brow. you knew who she could have been, but—
“girl, who are you?” you countered.
you knew damn well you should have kept your mouth shut, because you got called the fuck out. ‘well, anton didn’t say he had a girlfriend, are you his girlfriend? did i just wreck a home?’ uh.. no. ‘how come you weren’t here when we got back but you’re here now?’ uhh… ‘if you’re not his girl, and he has no roommates, why are you here in the middle of the night?’ … — deep down you knew you were the problem here.
unlike anton, you weren’t lucky enough to have parents who would pay for you to live in a nice little apartment for the entirety of college, so you lived with your two roommates; one of which was at the height of a lover’s quarrel with her partner. things had gotten so bad between them that the morning of this incident — or rather the morning before — seeing as it happened at around 2am, anton kindly agreed to let you come back to his place after you finished work, and spend the weekend there. and so, you weren’t there when anton and this poor girl got back to his apartment, because your shift ended about an hour after they had knocked each other out. you poor soul.
“why would you say that?” anton laughed at you, “you don’t live here.”
like you didn’t know that… asshole. you flopped down in one of the dining chairs, attempting to flip your half drank water bottle, at his kitchen table. and failing. “i just couldn’t stop myself from giving attitude. because, why are you trying to talk to me and i’m on the toilet… i needed her gone out the room.”
“well. she’s never gonna text me now.”
“no?” you rose a brow at him, “well, would you have responded?”
anton was notorious (within your two person friendship) for losing the numbers of girls that he slept with. that or somehow indirectly manifesting for them to lose his number, so he had no choice but to move on to the next. he didn’t see this as sleazy, fuckboy activity, however. he was simply just moving forwards through life. so in response to your question? anton just smiled back at you from where he was stood in the kitchenette. he didn’t know the answer. not for sure at least.
“you know she thought we were dating. she was so mad at you.”
his eyebrows shot up, “well, did you defend me?”
“i said i would never date you, and that i was visiting because of the thing with my roommate.” in a display of nonchalance, you pressed down on your baby hairs and just looked on at him.
“wow,” anton pushed up off the counter and took his bowl to the sink. “that’s sweet of you.”
“y’know.” you waited for him to turn back and face you. “if i was one of these girls, i would hate the both of us.”
“why?”
you looked towards the ceiling, as if to try and find the words to say. “well, i feel like i’m always here— like at your place. and we know almost everything about each other, i got a key to your house; we’re just, like, a little too close.”
“first of all, you’re not here enough—”
you shot him a glare and he threw his hands up in defence. “anton, do you not see the problem with that statement?”
anton pursed his lips in supposedly deep thought. “damn. i think you’ve been cockblocking me.”
the way your brain short-circuited hearing him say that— usually it was you cursing. never him. “you’ve been cockblocking yourself, toni.”
“no, but i’m being serious. the girl i brought home was not the first girl i talked to that night. that usually doesn’t happen.” anton came to sit by you at the table, putting a chair right next to yours but turning it the opposite direction so he could be facing you. subconsciously, you rest your feet on his thighs causing him to catch your ankles in his hands as you tried not to roll your eyes at possibly the most sleazy, frat boy coded statement you had ever heard.
“do you actually hear yourself sometimes? this is not the sweet toni i grew up with. you’re something else.”
“god, you’re right.” he laughed out. “i think all the attention is getting to my head.”
you leaned forward towards him, “oh, you think so?”
anton pushed your shoulder gently, “leave me alone, i’m coming to terms with it, i’m—“ he struggled to find the word, “i’m self-reflecting.”
and then he paused. “does our friendship get you any less romantic attention?”
“hmm.” you had to think about it. though anton claims not to be a fuckboy intentionally — or what you liked to call a ‘self-proclaimed pussy magnet’ — you knew yourself that you weren’t as… sexually outgoing (?) as anton. “no less than i had before, i guess. people that know you, know about our weird little friendship and then; you poor thing, you have to talk to two girls before you can get laid. but the people that know just me don’t necessarily know about our weird little friendship.”
“huh.”
“‘cause i’m not trying to be like one of those girls that tells everyone about, ‘my homeboy this, my homeboy that’ and then everyone assumes we’re fucking and i cant even defend myself.”
anton tried to ignore his face warming up, “no, yeah. hah, is that really a thing?” a thought was definitely being formed.
“yes, bro, even i cringe at it. i don’t wanna be that girl.”
“wait so, some of these guys, these friends, are actually like, sleeping with each other?” anton scratched the back of his neck, that was prickling with nerves.
“i mean, yeah, probably. the way they act.” you just laughed obliviously while anton’s mind started to fill up with ideas. like, say, if you were the kind of person who talked to others about your friendship with anton. would people think you’re so close that you might as well just.. be with each other? would people accuse you of sleeping together or dating even if you weren’t?
“yo, imagine if that was us…”
your head jolted in his direction and pure confusion painted your features in an incredulous expression, “anton, can you not… oh my god.”
his head dropped in laughter. as well as defeat.
but you missed that, so you continued. “no, that would be horrible. why would you even put that in my head?”
“so, i’m actually right here.” anton waved his hand at you and you laughed.
“no, no,” rushing to defend yourself, “not in a mean way, i just. i wouldn’t like the attention from people and, yeah, no. i don’t know.”
“yeah, okay. i get that.”
“why do you ask anyway? what would you think if it was us?” you prodded back. you would never let him ask such a stressful question without getting him back. you needed to get even.
“oh.” anton was starting to think he should have never tried it with you. however. you getting that nervous from his initial asking the question gave him a slither of confidence. “i mean. i think that it would be interesting. it’d be kinda cool to see if we could get to know each other any more than we already do.”
“in what sense?”
“like sex stuff.” anton’s voice was soft and quiet. “like what you’re into, stuff like that.”
“wouldn’t you like to know, chanyoung.”
he smiled at you, squinting in acknowledgement of your teasing “i would. tell me something.”
you gave it some thought before replying, “are you serious?”
he replied, “are you?”
you weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but you took at as a case of ‘i am if you are, and if you’re not, neither am i.’
“okay, anton. it’s 9 in the morning, but uh.. i like a submissive man.”
the tips of anton’s ears grew hot. “oh, wow. tell me more.”
you laughed in his face. because no way these are the lines he uses when he’s picking up girls every other night. this was going to be the most embarrassing conversation you had ever had. like, ever. you crossed your legs over each other, still over anton’s thighs.
“there’s nothing more to that statement really. your turn.”
“i like… kissing. but not just kissing like.. kissing.” he dragged the word out a little, really putting umph on it like you were gonna know exactly what he was talking about. you were so annoyed.
“be so for real for a second.”
“what?!”
you sighed. “no, cause i really got a lot from that, thank you. now, i wish i’d kept quiet.”
“what, no! i’m just bad at explaining things.” you tried to retract your legs from anton’s and he grabbed your calf in attempts to stop you from curling in on yourself out of pure embarrassment.
you covered your face. “yeah, really bad.”
“listen, i could show you better than i can tell you.”
“i bet you could, toni, but that’s not gonna turn back time.” you immediately shot him down. before you realised. “wait okay, show me.
“oh, i didn’t think you’d agree. i thought the idea of getting intimate with me was horrible?”
“i mean that’s if people are aware of it and like… try to talk to me about it at school.
right now, nobody knows. so i guess it’s less horrible.”
“alright, c’mere.” anton held out his hand for you to lean into, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. gently pecking your lips a couple times before ghosting the time of his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission. he ran the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip before pulling away just slightly to whisper, “can you open up a little?”
you furrowed your brows up at him and he took that as confusion, laughing a little “i wanna put my tongue there.”
you parted your lips a little and he kissed you with tongue, making the both of you sigh quietly. with each movement of his jaw and of his lips against yours, his tongue made contact with yours and it triggered a build of warmth in your lower abdomen. each time his tongue licked into your mouth, it pulled a whine out of the back of your throat. your hands rose up into his hair and you breathing started to quicken. at this point, even though you were feeling significantly warmer than you did a few seconds ago, you still didn’t realise what made this any different from ‘regular’ kissing. you figured anton was just being dramatic. that was until he sucked your tongue into his mouth along with your bottom lip. this made you straight up moan — you had to pull away.
“holy shit, anton.”
anton wiped the saliva off of his plush lips with his thumb. “see it’s like kissing but it’s kissing.”
“what the hell.” you huffed out in a deep exhale, twisting a curl around one of your fingers. you didn’t even know what to do with yourself after that.
anton tried to stop his eyes from dropping down to your heaving chest in the tight baby tee you were wearing as pajamas. he wanted to remain composed after putting the moves on you; maintain his shy, yet simultaneously confident demeanour. and then he remembered what you mentioned earlier. anton softened his voice ever so slightly. —if that was even possible.
“you know, you’re a really good kisser.” he held eye contact with you and the delivery of his sentence immediately made you wet.
“um, thank you.”
anton leaned closer to you, keeping his voice hushed despite the fact that you were the only two people in the apartment. “i didn’t expect it too, but kissing you made me really hard.”
“shit, really?” you were overwhelmed. you had just been kissed breathless by your best friend and now he was laying his truths all out on the table.
“i know you feel a type of way about it, but… i wanna fuck you."
“anton…”
“please,” you felt his thumbs rub you from both sides of your hips that he was now holding in his hands. he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth that made your eyes flutter closed. “i know it would feel so good.”
“toni, when you ask me like that—“
“you like that?” anton practically purred before attaching his soft lips to the curve of your neck. his hand slid down the front of your pajama pants to start rubbing you over your panties at a torturingly slow pace. “when i beg you like that? i know you do, you’re soaked.”
“fuck, toni…” you grabbed onto his shoulder for balance, lifting one of your knees higher to grant him a better angle at rubbing those tight circles over your bundle of nerves.
“hey, look at me.” he rubbed your clit faster, “can i make you cum before i fuck this pussy? huh? please?”
you could only lean back and moan in response.
“come on you gotta tell me. can i please?”
“mm-hm. yes, yes, baby.”
you dug your nails into his bicep and he groaned. “can i get i kiss, too?”
in a low whine, you pressed your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as you started getting closer to orgasm.
“yeah, moan for me just like that, baby. that’s so fucking hot. you gonna cum for me?”
you nodded at him and he continued with the same relentless pace of his fingers against your clothes clit until your hips started to shake with your orgasm.
“fuck, you’re so sexy when you cum for me. you gonna let me fuck you, mama?”
you were breathless in shock. in all your years of being friends with this anton, he had never talked so nasty.
anton swiftly lifted you onto the table and yanked your pajama pants down with your panties. with big, soft hands, he kneaded your thighs, “you’re dripping in front of me.”
“well, i just came.”
this made anton laugh, “well, i’m gonna make you cum again. ‘kay?”
you nodded as he pulled his dick out of his basketball shorts and started to jerk himself off, rubbing his tip against your slit. you went to hold onto his back with one hand and he took this as a sign that you were ready for him. pushing into you slowly, he muffled his own moan against your lips.
somehow, after only just put his dick in you, he was already a mess. “mmh, fuck you feel good. you feel so good around me.”
anton’s arms wrapped under your thighs, and started bringing your hips to meet his faster.
“fuck, toni, right there!”
he moaned into a sloppy kiss to your lips, “mm, right there? ‘m i hitting it right?”
“yes, keep going. you’re doing so good..”
anton didn’t change his position, only moving one of his hands to start rubbing your clit again. “fuck, keep talking to me like that.”
you held his neck to pull him closer to you, “you’re so good. and you look so pretty when you’re fucking me.”
all of your praise was going straight to anton’s dick. he was visibly finding it increasingly harder to keep himself together. he leaned forward to get closer to you, grinding his hips into yours. peppering kisses
“ah- uhm, i wanna cum. wanna cum for you.” anton’s voice was barely above a whisper as he rambled against your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth to mumble his pathetic sounds. although, to no avail, he was still mumbling to you, teeth grazing the skin.
“you can cum toni, i’m close too.”
“you gotta cum first, baby,” what a gentleman. “if you cum first that’s gonna make me c-cum.” anton whined flicking his tongue against one of your nipples as if to punctuate, “ugh, please.”
maybe about 30 more seconds of anton’s desperate whimpering pushed you over the edge. and you didn’t want to dwell to much on why this was, but it was surely one of the most pleasurable orgasms you had ever had. and the irregular clenching of your pussy around his dick was the final completely it for him. he pulled out of you cautiously and instead of jerking himself to completion all over your naked body, he was reduced to grinding against your wet pussy, panting and sighing until his own orgasm washed over him.
“shit, anton are you crying?” you cradled his face, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb. he couldn’t even reply — he was inside of you, but you fucked the shit out of him.
“i’m a fuckin’ mess. i think we might have some built up tension or something.” anton got up from where he was leant against your chest. he pulled his shorts up and flopped down into a dining chair, dropping his head down onto one of your thighs where your legs were hanging off the table.
you shifted from your position of sitting up on your elbows to laying your back flat on the kitchen table. “don’t even say that.”
“okay.”
the two of you sat in your silence. it was comfortable silence for you, you hoped it was for him too.
without moving from where he was laid on your thigh, anton’s hand tapped against your leg to grab your attention. “so was that horrible for you, or?”
( l. anton x fem!reader ) • warnings. 𓄵 word count. 1043 { back to library }
( request ). I would like to request older but shorter female reader x anton. I just feel like the combo would be really cute since Anton yes, it's used to being the youngest but he's also the oldest sibling, and reader whom is older but is the youngest sibling and is used to being taken care of (yes, lemme proyect myself here for a sec). Could be an scenario where its fluffy like they're out at a party and just having fun (kinda highlighting their dynamic where reader is taken care of) but then smutty towards the end?.
( yeni’s notes ). hope you like it !!
anton searched around for you , your drink and your purse in his hand , along with your phone in his pocket so he was unable to contact you , not like you’d hear him , your phone is constantly on dnd , he told you to stop doing that.
you were older than him , not that much but still noticeable; but anton still loved to take care of you , him being the older brother in his family made his caring nature coming out when it came to you. he loved taking care of you , and you being the younger sibling you liked being taken care of.
“baby.” he finally found you; sitting on a chair. “i told you to stay behind me while i got your drink.” he handed you the drink. “what happened.”
“my feet started to hurt.”
he sat in the seat next to you , holding your purse in his lap. “let me see.” that’s how you ended up in wearing his shoes that were 7 sizes too big for you , your heels dangling in his hands.
“is yn wearing your shoes?” sungchan asked , anton nodded. “her feet hurt , i just stole a pair of house shoes from shotaro.” he said. “i’m sure he won’t mind.”
you were getting hungry — so that was anton’s cue to grab all your belongings , saying goodbye to his friends before guiding you out of the house , helping you into the car , putting a blanket he kept in the car for you over your skirt. “comfortable?”
after getting you comfortable , he climbed onto the drivers seat , making sure the air was to your liking before he drove off. “what do you want to eat?”
his hand on your thigh , rubbing it softly as you went back in forth about what you want , smiling when you got frustrated. “you want me to pick?” already knowing the answer - you liked when he took control , so even watching him order at the drive through had your panties soaking.
“why are you looking at me like that?” he said, driving to the second window. “like you want to eat me.”
“it’s hot…” you started , eyeing him up in his seat. “when you take care of me.” he watched your eyes darken in real time.
his cheeks were red , he smiled as the worker handed him the food , driving off. “well i love taking care of you.” he said , squeezing your thigh , rubbing inside of his , his hand half way up your skirt — the tension in the car hotter now that you both gave off the silent alarm that you wanted each other… bad.
you were on him as soon as the door of your apartment closed. “baby.” he said through your kisses. “baby you need to eat first , you -fuck- you said you were hungry.” his words turning into moans as you kissed his neck.
“we can eat later.”
“no , baby we can eat now , don’t need you passing out , we both know that piece of chicken did nothing yesterday.” sometimes you hated when he took care of you. “eat.”
he watched you eat , telling you to slow down when you sped up do to his need , wiping your lip with his thumb — you wrapped your lips around his thumb . sucking on it. “fuck.”
he moved away seeing what you were doing. “baby stop being so needy , eat your food.” you groaned , finishing your food quickly making him laugh. “such a needy girl.”
he finally took you to your shared room , laying you on the bed. “been such a needy girl.” he kissed your calf as he pulled down your skirt; spreading your legs.
“look at how wet you are?” biting down on his lip. “you’re dripping.” rubbing you through your panties , you moaned.
“plea-please fuck me.”
“not yet princess.” pulling your panties down your legs , he lifted your hips up , throwing your legs over his shoulders , kissing in between your thighs. “want to eat your pretty pussy.”
feeling his lips on your cunt , licking your folds. “fuck tonie.” you tugged at his hair , he groaned against your pussy , your legs digging into his bag. “fuck that feels good.”
his plump lips wrapping around your tiny clit; you clutched the sheets. “you taste so fucking good.” he spit on your folds , licking a fat stripe up his folds. “such a pretty pussy.”
two of his fingers curling up inside you suddenly making your eyes widened , a loud moan falling from your lips as he fingered you. “ton.” you cursed. “m’gonna cum!”
“cum for me.” he sped up. “cum all over my fingers.”
his cock now begging to be released as you rode his fingers. “there we go.” he said softly , unbuckling his pants. “such a good girl.” he kissed your clit , pulling away to get rid of his clothes.
“you look so pretty , all fucked out for me.” rubbing his cock along your folds , pushing just his tip inside; you moaned. “you’re so pretty baby -fuck- sucking me in like this.”
he slowly pushed his cock in , stretching you out. “fuck.” he cursed , holding your waist as he fully bottomed out. “you’re so fucking tight.”
your cunt fluttered around his cock as he began to move , his cock sawing in and out of you. “tonie.”
“hmm.” he kised your neck , his cock hitting that spot , he smirked seeing your eyes roll back. “speak to me pretty , how can i help you?” his big hand coming to toy with your nipples.
“fa-faster..”
“faster?” he chuckled in your ear. “you want me to go faster?” you nodded , pleas fall from your cock drunk lips. “okay princess.”
his pace fastening , his name falling from your lips like a mantra. “you feeling good, baby?” you could barely understand what he was saying. “you gonna cum for me?”
“cum for me , be a good girl and cum.”
you came with his name on your lips , he cursed , cock twitching inside you as he reached his peak as well. “fuck.” his face dipping into your neck as he came down.
he took a good look at you , eyes glazed over. “you with me princess?” not getting an answer , you were too far gone. “it’s okay baby.” kissing your cheek.
Summary: You and Wonbin go out on a date for the first time after having a baby. Things get hot fast, and you end up having sex in the car.
Genre: established AU, girl dad!wonbin, y/n is breastfeeding & wonbin is very eager, smut, oral, p in v
Word Count: 2k
“Remind me never to mix tequila with vodka again!”
Your husband Wonbin leant his head back against the headrest. He was sitting in the passenger seat of your Range Rover, cheeks flushed a dark red.
His hair, which had been styled into neat black curls at the beginning of the night, was now sticking out in all directions. Somehow, it made him look even sexier.
You giggled at your tipsy husband, as you reversed the car into the driveway of your house.
“That was fun! I can’t believe this was the first time we’ve gone out since we had Nina. It felt so good not to talk about baby stuff for one evening.”
Wonbin nodded, loosening his bow tie.
“I barely missed her tonight,” he said. “Does that make me a bad father?”
You shook your head. “It just makes you human. Plus, she’s in good hands. It was nice of your mom to offer to babysit.”
Wonbin smiled to himself, as if he was thinking of a private joke. “Oh yeah… about that.”
“What?” You said, turning off the car engine.
“My mom said that she doesn’t mind if we stay out late, and that she’s happy to look after Nina all night. She really wants us to… you know… connect.”
Wonbin looked at you through his lashes, his large eyes shining in the dim street lights.
“Mama Park is so dedicated to our sex life.” You laughed.
Wonbin blushed. “I think she just wants another grand baby as soon as possible.”
You gasped so quickly you almost choked on your own spit. “Nina’s not even one yet!”
Wonbin leaned over and squeezed your hand lovingly. “I know, I know. But… I do miss your body.”
You bit your lip.
Wonbin unbuttoned the top few buttons of his crisp black shirt, revealing his firm, brown chest. He noticed your eyes being drawn to his bare skin, and he smiled.
“It has been a long time since we…” you whispered, your mouth suddenly dry. “You want to do it right here? In our driveway?”
Wonbin leaned over the centre console and kissed you on the mouth, giving you his answer with his lips.
He tasted like tequila and lime. The feeling of his soft, warm tongue brushing against yours sent little shivers of pleasure straight to your pussy.
You reached your hands over to caress his broad shoulders. Except you were sitting in the driver’s seat, with the steering wheel in the way, so the angle was quite awkward.
Wonbin pulled away, his lips plump and shining with your gloss.
“Let’s take this to the back seat, mama,” he said, licking his lips. “I want to eat you out.”
You felt a swoop in your chest. Wonbin barely ever offered to give you head of his own accord.
“I dunno,” you mumbled.
“Come on,” Wonbin said, kissing your neck. “You used to love it when I did it in college.”
You gently pushed your husband off you. “That was a long time ago.”
Wonbin pouted. With his big eyes and thick lips, he was hard to resist.
You both got out of the car, the cool night air making you shiver. You closed the car door as quietly as possible, so as not to wake your family inside. Silently, you slid into the backseat.
You slipped off your heels whilst Wonbin unlaced his shoes.
Wonbin closed the space between you and kissed you again. He was more eager this time, smiling as his tongue pressed inside the cavern of your mouth.
His hands brushed over your shoulders, pushing down the straps of your dress, and then glided over your chest.
He pulled his mouth off you to get a better look. He pushed the silk fabric of your dress down below your breasts.
“Fuck, look how big they’ve gotten,” Wonbin said, eyes transfixed on your exposed breasts.
He cupped your heavy, milk-filled breast in his hand. He squeezed it gently, careful not to hurt you, groaning as he watched tiny beads of white drip from your dark nipples.
“Just a taste,” Wonbin murmured to himself, as he leant down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth. He began to suck.
You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple. You were embarrassed at him tasting you, a little grossed out too, but way to turned on to care.
You felt moisture dampen your underwear.
“Wonbin, enough,” you said, pushing his head away. “Leave some for the baby.”
“Now for the main course,” Wonbin said, looking up at you and grinning.
He kissed down your stomach, towards your hips.
Crouched in the cramped space of the back seat, his large, athletic frame was way too big for the space. He shuffled so that he was kneeling between your thighs.
“Wait!” You tried to close your legs, but Wonbin’s heavy body made it impossible for you to do so.
Your cheeks burned.
“I didn’t think… well I wasn’t expecting that we’d… ugh!” You slammed your head back against the head rest and looked up at the roof of the car, too embarrassed to meet your husband’s eyes.
“What is it, Y/n?” Wonbin said, in a voice that was so gentle it melted your heart.
“I’ve been so busy with the baby that I haven’t had time to get my… you know, waxed. And I know you don’t like it when there’s hair there, so we don’t-”
“Shh,” Wonbin said, kissing the soft swell of your inner thigh. “I want to see my girl.”
“Are you sure, though?” You were shivering. You didn’t know if it was from the cold, or your current predicament.
“I’m sure, Y/n.” Wonbin said, eyes dark with a passion that you hadn’t seen in years. “I want to make you come with my mouth. A little hair isn’t going to stop me from doing that.”
“If you say so…” Sighing, you shifted your hips closer to Wonbin’s face.
That was all the permission he needed.
Wonbin reached forwards and brushed his fingers over the cotton of your panties. He pushed his finger into the damp patch, directly over your clit. You let out a quiet moan.
Wonbin curled his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He started to pull them down, over your ass and to your thighs. But the space in the back of the car was too small for him to take them off properly.
“Fuck it,” he murmured. With one sharp yank, Wonbin ripped the panties clean off your body.
You yelped.
The cool air caressed your pussy.
Wonbin leaned closer, his dark brows furrowed in concentration. You could feel his breath on your sensitive skin.
You felt your cunt throb for him, the deep ache of it surprising you.
Wonbin reached forwards and spread your pussy lips with his long, bony fingers. You could feel your wetness sliding out of your hole.
“Don’t tease,” you gasped. “Just-”
You were cut off by the feeling of Wonbin’s mouth on your clit.
He didn’t hold back. He sucked your clit with so much force that it actually made you shudder. He opened his mouth wide, moaning as he lapped up your juices.
The pleasure was so intense that it took all your might not to push Wonbin away. Your hands flailed, and you grabbed onto the carseat beside you for support.
You imagined what you might look like to an outsider peering into the back of the car. Naked, silk dress bunched around your stomach, with a man’s face buried between your thighs.
The two of you were wild in college - one time, you jerked Wonbin off in the middle of a lecture, and he had to use a textbook to hide the wet patch in his pants. But in the last few years, you only ever had sex under the covers, and usually at night. It was loving, but tame.
Wonbin slipped two fingers into you, and pushed against the soft, jagged ridges just a few inches inside your cunt. It made a lewd squelching sound.
“Just like that- don’t stop!”
You could feel your orgasm approaching fast. The pleasure started building in your toes, curling up your legs and stomach till it burst, white hot.
The feeling was so strong that it was almost painful.
Wonbin tightened his grip on your hips as he licked you through your orgasm. He only stopped when you pushed against his head, whining.
“That was hot,” Wonbin grinned, lips shining. “I’ve been dreaming about that for ages.”
You reached out and wiped the slick of Wonbin’s dark red lips.
“You’re such a dork,” you said, sighing. Post-orgasm, your body felt limp, like a stretched out noodle.
“Hey, you married me!” He said, laughing.
Wonbin crawled up your body and captured your lips in a kiss. You felt him fumble with the zipper of his trousers as he kissed you. He pulled himself out of his boxers.
You felt his cock, hot and stiff, press against the bare skin of your thigh. You could tell that he wanted to penetrate you.
You both looked down at the space between you.
Wonbin’s cock, as wide as a can of cola and flushed a deep red, was standing to attention.
He gripped his cock in one hand and rubbed it over the slick curves of your pussy. He was coating the tip of his dick with your wetness, groaning at the feeling.
Every time his cock slid over your clit, you jolted.
Wonbin guided his cock down towards your hole. He positioned himself so that all he had to do was push his hips an inch forwards. One easy slide, and he’d be buried deep inside you.
You could tell Wonbin was thinking about it. His dark eyes were almost crossed in concentration, and glued to your pussy.
“Wonbin. Condom.” You breathed.
Wonbin didn’t respond. He was staring at your cunt like it held all the answers of the universe.
You placed a hand on his chest. “Wonbin. Seriously, we can’t do this without a condom.”
The tip of his cock squeezed against your hole. You could feel his girth begin to stretch you out, even after all these years of fucking him.
You reached down and wrapped your hand around his dick, stopping him from penetrating you.
“Baby, do you really want another kid?” You said, squeezing the firm, solid flesh of his cock.
As if waking from a trance, Wonbin pulled his gaze away from your cunt. He stared at you with wide, glassy eyes.
“Fuck. Sorry. You’re right. What was I thinking?”
You pouted. You were looking forward to getting speared by your husband. But it looked like it was going to have to wait.
Your hand was still wrapped around the base of his cock. Wonbin jerked his hips forward, almost on instinct, desperate for some friction. He began to thrust pathetically into your hand.
“Wait!” you gasped. “Glove compartment! I bought some last month, and I’m pretty sure I forgot to bring them inside.”
“You’re serious?” Wonbin said, eyes lighting up.
You nodded, smiling.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Wonbin said, pressing kisses to your lips and cheek between every word.
You giggled. “Just hurry up and get one.”
Wonbin twisted his long and narrow body through the gap between the front seats, reaching for the glove compartment.
It was a funny sight. Wonbin’s pants and boxers were around his thighs, leaving his firm, muscled butt completely naked.
He turned back towards you, a shiny foil wrapper in his hand.
Wonbin's face lit up in a smile. His cheeks were flushed dark. A light sheen of sweat on his skin made him glow. You couldn't help but admire just how handsome he was right now.
Wonbin pulled the condom onto himself, hissing from the stimulation.
He stroked the curve of your hip.
“Ready?” He asked, searching your face.
You nodded.
Wonbin guided the tip of his dick to your wet pussy. He pushed in, slowly at first.
You felt the pleasurable stretch as he buried his fat cock inside you. It was a dull ache - half pain, half pleasure, like pushing a bruise.
“Fuck, Wonbin, you feel so good,” you moaned.
It had been a long time since you'd last been fucked. The stretch was almost unfamiliar. Your pussy throbbed, and to your surprise, you came around his cock. Your second orgasm washed over you, less intense than the first one, but just as nice.
Wonbin felt you clench around him. The feeling made him almost come on the spot.
“Did you just come again?” He asked.
“Uh huh,” you said, blushing.
You felt his dick twitch inside you. Wonbin pushed himself in until you were full of him.
He started to thrust into you. Fast. Not gentle. His solid, narrow hips smacked against you with every thrust. His hip bones were sharp against your pelvis.
You let your head fall back against the seat.
The sound of your pussy squelching bounced around the small space of the car.
You leant up to suck on Wonbin's neck as he fucked you. When you pushed your tongue into the groove of his collarbone, he whimpered.
Wonbin gripped your waist as he pummelled into you, chasing his own release.
Your thighs knocked against the car door. There would probably be a bruise tomorrow, but right now, you couldn't care less.
Wonbin let out a strangled sob.
He pushed himself deep. So deep, that in the cramped space of the backseat, you almost felt like one person, not two.
“Fuck, Y/n-”
He groaned as he came, spilling hot and deep inside you. You felt a warm, tingly feeling as he filled the condom.
His whole body shook above you. He was using his muscles to hold himself off you, but in that moment, his body gave in, and he slumped down onto you.
You both lay there, panting, in the back seat of the car. The air smelt like sex and sweat.
You wrapped your arms around Wonbin and pulled him into a hug. You smoothed your hands across the broad expanse of his back.
Wonbin hugged you back, tightly.
“I love you,” he murmured into your neck.
With his arms wrapped around you and his cock inside you, you felt so safe. Perfection.
A light turned on inside the house.
You peered out of the car window, to see that a bedroom light had just been switched on.
You tapped Wonbin’s shoulder.
“We should go. I think your mom's awake with the baby.”
Wonbin nodded. He took a deep breath, and then slowly, agonisingly slowly, he pulled his cock out of you.
“That was so fun,” he said, handing you your heels.
You grinned. “I know right.”
Wonbin’s dark eyes twinkled mischievously as he helped you out of the car.
“Now that I think about it,” he said. “Another kid wouldn't be such a bad idea. At least then we'd have an excuse for a round two.”
You gasped. “Wonbin!”
—
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content: soft dom!gyu, situationship? it's something, he's bold but nice w it, inexperienced!reader, fem bodied reader, a little vague jealousy moment, grinding / dry humping 😬, he finishes in his pants but so do you.
A/N: this one's kinda messy oopsies
Another early evening sitting on the leather sofa in his tiny apartment, TV left on to some american action film neither of you care about while Beomgyu tells you about his plans — some friend's party he has to go to tomorrow. Or, something like that.
“Who?” You ask again as you stretch your arms over your head.
Beomgyu's eyes shoot to your exposed midriff briefly. “You're not listening.” He pouts. You roll your eyes.
“Is it just the guys?”
Beomgyu shakes his head. “It's a party,” he says, “Lots of people.”
You roll your eyes and adjust to face him better. “I’m just asking.” you shrug a little. “Like, who you're gonna be hanging with, ’n all that...”
Beomgyu's eyes narrow at you. He examines your face with a small smile pulling at his lips.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don't look at me like that.”
“Don't be jealous,” he teases.
You furrow your eyebrows in annoyance. “What-”
“You heard me.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” You can feel your face heating up, avoiding eye contact as he turns to you.
Beomgyu pushes some hair out of your face and cups your chin. “Don't be crazy.” He grins. “I probably won't even mingle much.”
“Crazy?” you scoff.
He nods. “Don't worry about it.” He taps your nose, then moves his hand to your waist. His fingers run over the thin material of your t-shirt. You don't even know what you're supposed to say — or what the hell he's thinking right now. When he flicks his gaze up to meet yours again you swear you catch a certain glimpse in his eye; something you can't quite describe but you're sure you've seen it before, in stolen glances on a hot day, behind a wink while out with friends...
“Gyu?” Your voice comes out embarrassingly quiet, and you clear your throat as you tear your eyes from examining his.
Beomgyu hums in response, cocky, knowing smile still stuck on his pretty face.
“What... uhm...” You feel his fingers slip under the edge of your shirt, just barely grazing your hip above your pants and making you lose whatever words you were trying to scramble together.
With a subtle nod to himself, Beomgyu lets out a light sigh. “Yeah.” He says, “Turn that brain off for a bit, hm? Probably better that way.” He finds a firm but gentle hold on your hips and pulls you in, placing you over his lap and adjusts his own body beneath you, ignoring your shocked expression. “Gonna distract you. Don't want you worrying about nonsense, y'know?”
You only furrow your brow at his words, your fingers absently gripping the softness of the hoodie on his shoulders.
“Anyone ever got you like this?” He asks. You follow the way he's looking down between the two of you.
“... No.”
Beomgyu nods, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin as he leans his face toward yours and asks; “You're good, though?” his soft, low voice makes you feel like you're melting. Are you?
"Uh..." You swallow, and nod quickly.
Beomgyu's face comes closer, hovering before his lips brush over your jaw, then under your ear. You find yourself leaning your body into his, and he presses his mouth lightly over your neck before trailing back up your jaw to find your lips. You push them to his, earning a small sound of surprise before he takes over, swiftly regaining control (not that it was much of a battle).
Your eyes fall shut and your lips part to grant access before he can even ask. His tongue slips in to explore, pressing against your own as he pulls your hips to gently rock against him — just once.
You sigh into his mouth, “Beommie-”
“I know,” he murmurs against your lips. He then pushes you down on him again, slowly, a few times til he finds a position that draws a quiet whine from you. You can feel him through the layers of your pants; his hardening length under your core. You can tell exactly how big he is and it has your breath hitching.
He kisses you again, then leans his forehead against yours. “Tell me if we need to stop.”
His hands squeeze the flesh of your sides and pull you against him at a slow pace, his cock straining at his sweats like it's just asking you to keep staring. Is he even wearing boxers?
Fuck, you can't believe this is happening. You should have known he wouldn't just ask you out first like a normal person. He'd been so bold lately, a hand on your waist at a cafe, extra hearts in his goodnight texts, sneaky little suggestive jokes you didn't always process right away—
Beomgyu hisses in sync with you as he pulls you against him at a nice pace, “Shit, baby,” he breathes. “Mm, need you to show me how you feel, hmm? Gotta— gotta let me know how I'm doing...”
It doesn't take much convincingly to get you to let yourself make noise for him. The nervous cloud hovering over you doesn't entirely dissipate, but that voice you've thought of every night for the past who knows how long helps you ignore it better. You burry your face in his neck, inhaling his scent as he grinds you against him, one of his hands gliding downward to your ass for better leverage. You're so wet it almost feels gross. You swear it's gonna start seeping through your sweatpants soon. “Nh— Oh my god,” You whine, your clit perfectly hitting against his cock with every motion.
Beomgyu groans. “S-So good, baby, just- fuck.” His grip grows stronger, but he's clearly holding back as to not hurt you. Much.
•
You soon feel his lips meet your neck, teeth and tongue over your flesh while your mind goes fuzzy, legs tensing and shifting on either side of him with little moans and whimpers of his name.
“I know,” Beomgyu breathes against you. “I know, you can— just let go for me, hm?”
Your fingers hurt from the tight, unrelenting hold you have on his hoodie. The sounds of his breathless low voice go right through you, quiet praises you're too blissed out to catch as you ride your high.
“Shit.”
•
When you come down, Beomgyu is brushing your hair out of your face again while the other hand soothes over your hip. His eyes are on you when you look up, your hands unfurling from fists to move flat onto his chest, and he looks uncharacteristically flustered. Catching your questioning gaze, he only offers a light shake of his head, leaning his head back.
“That wasn't suppose t’ happen,” he laughs under his breath to himself.
You open your mouth to ask, but he hushes you and pulls you gently off his lap to lay on the couch cushions. He leans over your body and holds your gaze for a second.
“I have to change,” he says. Oh. If possible, you feel your face flush more.
Beomgyu nods with another quiet laugh, and kisses your forehead, your nose, then the corner of your lips. “I'll be back to clean you up too, stay still.”
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