it was your first year ever working at the santa's workshop in your local mall. it was a short seasonal job, which oddly enough had a pretty good pay. now, let's talk about the co-workers. oh— na jaemin. yeah he's cute but your co-worker likes him and you suddenly don't know how to feel about your little crush on jaemin. who will he reciprocate the feelings to, or will he just let the both of you down.
or alternatively: you think your co worker is into jaemin but it turns out it was just you all along. though, the realization doesn't come without damaging your friendship with jaemin. the damage has been done.
└> GENRE; friends/coworkers to lovers, angst, fluff
└> PAIRING; jaemin x fem!reader or... jaemin x rea
└> FEATURES; jaemin (nct dream), naeun (apink),
└> WARNINGS; alcohol, probably swearing but tbh idek if it's there
└> AUTHORS NOTE; i made this for the ficscafe holiday event thing i forgot the link but i'll embed it later when i do fully publish it. to be honest i would like feedback because this plot was not thought out at all and i just typed whatever i thought worked. if there are any grammar mistakes in the post please alert me so that i can fix it because i do transfer from my phone since i got used to that when my old laptop was broken. i still use my new one but it just switched between phone and laptop and a lot of times it glitches on phone... so ya
pairing: na jaemin x art major! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 24k
synopsis -> mr. cupid — anonymous radio host. running the #1 most popular radio show on campus. famous for his thoughtful advice and classified as a true hopeless romantic. na jaemin — photography major, the sweet fuck-boy. described to be affectionate and gentle…but don’t fall for his tactics! once he’s done with you, he’s gone with the wind. your best friend unfortunately happened to be on the receiving end of this. what happens when you find out that the anonymous radio host is none other than na jaemin himself? sweet revenge.
warnings -> tooth rotting cheesiness you’ll roll your eyes, a hundred different synonyms for a gentle smile, pet name unlocked: angel, lots of stolen kisses, there’s only one bed, reader and jaemin are stupid and selfish sometimes, a tiny bit of angst, a hole in the wall, +18, crude language, fuck-boys, mentions of drugs, alcohol, make outs, one night stands, more than one boner, smut! oral-m/f receiving, fingering, slight nipple play, blowjob, handjob, sex, a brief conversation with his cock, jaemin is whiny and vocal and big, masturbation, public sex if u squint.
an -> the first installment of the loverboy series is finally yours. i hope you love (and hate) it as much as i do. i had so many moments in the three months i’ve had with this work where i almost scrapped this as i couldn’t figure out how to progress the story without it being so cheesy. i wanted something grand, something never been done before! but (fortunately) with rom-com, and the amount of lovely fiction out there, everything has been done before. so i succumbed to the inevitable cheesiness and made something i was happy with. hope you enjoy! with love, c.
dear, mr. cupid,
my best friend slept with her crush! problem is, he’s a total fuckboy and doesn’t even remember her. he walks around pretending he doesn’t know her. what can i do to get back at him?
love,
heart
mr. cupid reads the anonymous confession of the day, ready to give his think piece.
“hi heart, hmm,” he pauses, seeming to be in deep thought, “first of all, i think you should be there for your friend. let her know that no man, especially a fuckboy, is worth any of her precious time. as for the guy, let him have a taste of his own medicine, he deserves it. no man should ever treat a woman like that,” he sweetly advises through the radio, making you scoff in disgust.
his fake persona was sickening considering you couldn't even count the number of girls he has been with in both of your hands in just a span of one year.
taste of his own medicine, huh?
two days later, you got all dolled up, looking exactly like the girls you know are his type – all pretty in pink, a cute skirt around your waist, pretty bow adorned on your hair, paired with heels that made your legs look longer.
you couldn’t even recognize yourself when you looked in the mirror. gone were the oversized t-shirts and sweats that usually hugged your body. you were going to make him notice you, one way or another.
it was all part of the plan – it’s simple, really! the entirety fitting in a page in your notebook, titled the downfall of na jaemin:
step one - introduce yourself.
step two - make him fall in love with you.
step three/four - break his heart and reveal to the whole world (university) that their beloved mr. cupid is a phony.
see, easy!
hence, we begin.
you’ve mapped out the trail he took after his first period. and like the mastermind you are, you were right where you needed to be at the right time. walking hurriedly past him and “accidentally” bumping into him, the books and papers in your hand flying out of your grasp, an exaggerated gasp slipping past your lips.
jaemin, quick to his feet, was already on the ground, picking up your fallen items, “sorry about that,” he apologizes.
“no it's okay, i wasn’t looking where i was going, sorry,” your sweet voice captures his attention as he finally gets a good look at you. a devilishly sweet smile growing on his features, eyebrows ever so slightly raising in a way that if you weren’t so observant, you wouldn’t have noticed.
“just be careful next time, beautiful,” he flirts, handing you back your things, the smile on his face never leaving. you fight back the urge to roll your eyes.
“thanks handsome, i’ll see you around?,” matching his energy, voice going softer, eyes flirtatiously but calculatively drooping, as you grab your books out of his hands, making sure your fingertips touch, just a little bit, before turning away and quickly walking the opposite direction.
the boy quickly called out to you, “hey!, what's your name?!”
leaning over your shoulder, plastering on the sweetest smile you can give him, you waved away like you were some kind of princess – classic romantic first meetings.
he watches your retreating figure, a small smile visible on his features. he has half the mind to follow you until the sound of his phone buzzing snaps him out of his daze.
mark: where are u? need help setting up
jaemin: omw
𓏲𝄢
“did we get new students?,” was the first thing that jaemin asked when he entered the room, his friends quickly glancing at his direction before continuing their tasks – setting the house up for the fraternity’s highly anticipated valentines day party that was two days away. it was really the only party (besides halloween, christmas and new year) that they prepared for. all the other ones, didn’t require this much work.
“not that i know of?,” mark — leader of the dream fraternity, music major, the favorite fuckboy. unlike jaemin, he doesn’t hide under sweet pretenses. he tells you what he wants from the beginning, never leaving you doubting his actions. whether or not you continue, is up to you. so you can’t exactly blame him when he breaks your heart in the end.
“huh..,” he ponders.
“why?,” his leader ask, curiosity piqued.
“saw the prettiest girl today, never seen her before,” he says nonchalantly.
“maybe she was just passing by?,” haechan — member of the dream fraternity, theatre major, the most popular fuckboy. girls love him. boys love him. he’s funny and charming but also very straightforward. you won’t catch him in a single lie because he doesn’t tell any, even if that means ruthlessly hurting people’s feelings.
“can’t be, her books were from our library,” jaemin reasons, remembering the ‘step by step: how to art?’ book that he picked up from the ground stamped with the university’s seal. maybe you were an art major?
“what does she look like?, i can ask around,” jeno — member of the dream fraternity, architect major, the chill fuckboy. doesn’t really like the whole hopping from one girl to another so he ends up in a bunch of meaningless situationships. his current one has been going on strong – a good new record of four days.
“exactly my type, long hair, soft skin, pretty smile, dressed in the cutest outfit,” jaemin sighs hopelessly, like he was just shot with the lust arrow.
“uh oh there you go again, falling for nameless girls,” chenle smirks, throwing him the streamers he was assigned to put up.
chenle — member of the dream fraternity, business major, the lowkey fuckboy. doesn’t get around as much as the rest but also doesn’t do relationships either and he makes that very clear. no use of pet names, or flowers, or chocolates or anything romantic.
“actually, she was holding an art book. renjun, have you seen anyone today wearing a pink top with a white skirt, a pretty white bow on her pretty head?”
renjun — member of the dream fraternity, art major, the fuckboy by association. only got labeled a player due to his friends. doesn’t actually care too much for romantic relationships, but he will have one night stands here and there, he still has a working dick after all. #1 person to call out the boys if they over step a line but will also fight a girl for his friends.
“didn’t go to class today, too busy setting up,” he shrugs, “leave the poor girl alone jaemin, we don’t need a repeat of last time,” he adds sternly.
“hey!, that one was not my fault, that girl was crazy,” jaemin reasons out earning a snort from jisung.
“yeah, hyung, crazy because she told you she loved you and you said it back then proceeded to avoid her,” jisung — member of the dream fraternity. dance major, the fuckboy in the making. he was in a relationship, once. the girl cheated on him so now he’s decided that love’s not real and is taking fuckboy 101 classes from mark and haechan.
“who tells you they love you while your balls deep in!?,” jaemin practically shouts, “my dick was my brain, okay!, besides who even says i love you to a guy you’ve only been talking to for a week, not to mention we barely talked!,” jaemin quickly defends himself for the umpteenth time.
“yeah, yeah we’ve heard it all before and well…that’s what you get for being sooo sweet,” haechan points out, laughing at his friend.
“that’s why next time you don’t put so much effort in,” chenle adds, joining in on the laughter.
“yeah dude, or maybe next time just tell them you just want sex? it works for me all the time i never have anyone crazy coming in like that,” mark teases, the entire group laughing as they recall the situation.
“well damn! god forbid i actually throw in a little bit of romance before i fuck their brains out,” jaemin sighs.
he can’t help it, he was a romantic at heart.
“fuck your brain out you mean?,” jeno snorts, causing jaemin to chase him around the house, fist ready for a punch.
“be careful! if you break any of the decorations i am not helping!,” renjun yells after them, the rest of the group breaking out into a chaos of laughter.
𓏲𝄢
dear mr. cupid,
i accidentally ran into someone today…my books flew everywhere! i swear some even landed on his feet but he was so kind about it, picking it up for me and calling me beautiful and now i can’t stop thinking about his sweet smile. problem is i don’t even know his name, what should i do?
love,
angel
jaemin’s jaw drops, this has to be his mystery girl…right? how many people go bumping around others and dropping their books?
he found himself liking the fact that his identity was unknown. to you he was just the kind boy who helped you out and not one of the school’s residential fuckboy. he thinks this is somehow a work of fate and was sure he had to thank divine interventions for landing you straight into his lap.
clearing his throat, he starts with his advice, “interesting, what should you do, angel?,” he clicks his tongue, “i think you should go to the place you saw him at, maybe he’ll be there again? who knows, he could have felt the same thing…i guarantee you if he did, he’ll walk up to you and say hi…men are simple creatures, after all. if they like you they’ll do something if not, well, you deserve a better man, angel…”
angel — a pretty name for a pretty girl, jaemin thought.
“and of course to all you lovely ladies out there, advice of the day from your favorite cupid is: never accept anything less than the best…goodnight lovelies,” ending the session for the night.
“angel, angel, angel,” the name glides off his tongue. did he just use mr. cupid to get to you? of course he did, but you didn’t have to know that.
just like how he didn’t have to know that everything was falling into place, exactly the way you planned it.
like clockwork, you end up meeting him at the exact same place at the exact same time, your books safely secured in your bag — it was time to put things in motion.
jaemin spots you first, walking up to you this time, “hi angel,” you turn towards the sound of his voice, taking in his appearance, noticing the camera that hung around his neck.
“y-you listen to mr. cupid?,” you ask, playing dumb, of course he listens to mr. cupid. he is mr. cupid. you just didn’t expect him to bring the persona up at all.
“who doesn’t? it’s the number one radio show on campus,” he smirks, “and thank god i do or else i would’ve never known you were looking for me,” he shoots you a wink and it makes sense to you now how he’s never gotten caught. it’s because he doesn’t hide the fact that he “listens” to mr. cupid. he talks about mr. cupid like he was just a casual listener.
too bad for him, you saw him sneak out of the studio late that one evening, catching sight of the mr. cupid neon sign before the door shut.
you let out a playful laugh, “of course, i guess we have mr. cupid to thank…so what’s your name, handsome?,”
“you truly don’t know?,” it takes every ounce of you not to scoff.
“should i?,” you ask innocently, completely opposite from the rage you were feeling inside.
“of course not,” he shakes his head, “jaemin,” he introduces himself, hand reaching out for a handshake. you give him a soft smile before slipping your hand in his, “nice to meet you jaemin, i’m y/n.”
“not angel?”
“you didn’t think i’d actually tell mr. cupid my real name did you? it would be so embarrassing for me,” you explain and jaemin just shakes his head lovingly.
“do you want to get coffee?,” you ask, making jaemin’s smile grow wider.
𓏲𝄢
dear mr. cupid,
how do I get a fuckboy to fall in love with me?
love,
heart
“it doesn’t matter if he’s a fuckboy or not, to get anyone to fall in love with you, you have to dig deep, find out what they like and get to know them beyond surface level.” - mr. cupid.
the air in the coffee shop was buzzing with the faint hum of quiet conversations and light tunes playing from the cafe’s speakers. you sat across from him, sun rays from the window illuminating his sharp features. na jaemin, the playboy who had stolen hearts without a second thought, was now sitting before you, completely unaware of your secret identity.
“tell me about yourself,” you say as soon as the two of you got comfortable.
“well, i'm a photography major, part of the dream fraternity,” he gives the basic answer, not giving you anything else.
“girlfriend?,” you ask, eyebrows raising up as you took a sip of your drink.
“wouldn’t be sitting here with you if i had one, angel,” he responds smoothly, the use of the nickname he has insisted on continuing to call you rolls off his tongue, making you want to gag every time you hear it. perhaps you should have just given your real name.
instead you force yourself to blush, breaking eye contact like it was all too much, smiling down at your hands.
he finds it adorable of course. from his perspective, he had you right in the palm of his hands, all he had to do was catch you.
“you said you were a photography major…can i see your photos?,” you point to his camera, an innocent look displayed on your face, catching jaemin slightly off guard.
no girl has ever asked to see his work, always only curious about his reputation and seeing him as a challenge – maybe this was your ploy, pretending to care about him just so he would sleep with you.
he almost wants to tell you that you didn’t have to go through all that effort. just say the word and he’ll be in between your legs in a second but this is amusing and he’ll let it drag on for as long as you want.
“hmm, maybe later angel, how about you tell me about yourself first?,” his shit-eating grin appeared as fast as it disappeared and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to crack him so easily. you were prepared for that. in the three years you’ve heard about this boy, you have never heard of him being in love. you knew this would be hard. you had to break down your walls first if you ever wanted to see through his.
“okay, i'm an art major with a focus on painting, my favorite color is pink and i love iced americanos,” you point down to your matching drinks, letting out a soft giggle.
“hey, we’re pretty similar,” you hear the smile in his voice. of course, you calculatively said things you knew he also liked, things he’s mentioned in his show, you were an avid listener after all…before you knew it was him.
“what is it about painting that draws you in?,” he continues.
then it clicks for you — this was his own test wasn’t it?
he was using his own advice against you. he was digging deeper. his own personal trick to get you to fall for him. you give him exactly what he’s looking for.
“i guess i just love watching simple colors and lines all come together to create something beautiful…the way it can be interpreted in so many ways by different people, you know?,” you take a quick pause, making sure he was still listening to you. he nods encouraging you to go on, “the way it can carry emotions, i can look at it one day and feel happiness and then another day i could look at the same painting and feel sadness,” you continue, letting your heart talk for you. the passion you had for art clearly on display.
“tell me more, angel,” jaemin looks at you with a soft glow in his eyes like he's really taking in everything you’re saying and storing it somewhere safe. maybe it was because of how the sun rays hit his eyes? maybe it was genuine curiosity? or maybe he’s just mastered the act of pretending to care? you wouldn’t know. but you do know that it was easy to get lost in his gaze and it makes sense how he has succeeded in making everyone fall for him.
“hmm, i like how you can find a story within each painting if you look deep enough and i love the way that story changes depending on who’s looking,” you finish.
he smiles, a gentle smile — this one different from the grins that you were used to seeing and you knew you hit the spot.
“you know something, y/n? i think you and i are a lot alike,” he starts, “except for me, my photos are my painting,” he reveals a little but not too much, hushed voice, leaning towards you as it it was a secret. maybe it was? maybe it was something he’s never shared to anyone but you? again, you wouldn’t know.
you watch him reach for the camera sitting quietly on his side of the table, and before you could process what was happening the shutter of the flash has blinded you.
“w-why did you take a picture of me?,” you asked in quiet shock.
“i like this story, i think i want to keep it forever,” he casually admits, making your heart skip a beat. he was good and you realize now how tough this could be as you sat there thinking, was it this easy to fall for someone’s words before?
“what do you say angel, you want to go to a party with me tomorrow night?," and just like that, the grin was back on his face, snapping you out of your trance.
the NCTU valentines party – you’ve always heard about it being one of the best parties on campus, whether you’re single and ready to mingle or taken and want to party with your significant other, everyone goes to have a great time: sex, free alcohol, drugs and good music. how could anyone pass it up?
“i would love to,” you reply sweetly.
you needed to get into his room.
after all, you had no physical proof that he was mr. cupid.
𓏲𝄢
“i need to borrow a dress,” you rummage through your best friend’s wardrobe, looking for something pretty and pink.
“for what?,” giselle’s attention snaps toward you, her curiosity at its peak. she doesn’t even remember the last time you wore a dress.
“umm for a party,” you mumble, “excuse me?,” she walks over to you, not entirely sure if she heard correctly, “did you say party? you’re going to a party?!” she practically shouts, excitement bubbling through her.
“calm down, it’s not that big of a deal,” you sigh, still looking through her closet.
“uhm, yes it is! i’ve been trying to get you to a party since freshman year and you always turn me down,” she pouts, “in your own words, ‘parties are sooo lame, i have much better things to do,’” she playfully mocks, earning an eye roll from you.
“i don't sound like that,” you snarked, eyes narrowing at her.
“yes…you do,” she says, pushing you out of her closet and pulling out a pretty pink dress you’ve never seen before, exactly in your size. it was the perfect dress for the perfect girl you were currently playing.
giselle hands it to you with a smile on her face, “here, i bought it for you just in case this day ever happened,” making you chuckle, “i can’t believe you, thank you,” taking the dress out of her hands.
“whose party are you going to anyway?,” she asks.
“uhmm,” you take a second to think about whether or not you should lie but giselle knows you more than anyone else, she’ll see right through your words, so you decide to come clean, “theNCTUvalentinesparty,” you mumble and giselle’s jaw drops in shock, “the wildest party of the year for a party virgin…are you sure about that?,” she asks, voice laced with concern.
“don’t worry, i’m not gonna drink or anything,” you shrug and you see the way her mind works, piecing it all together.
“who are you going with?,” she inquired, afraid that she already knew the answer to the question.
“doesn’t matter,” you gulped, looking everywhere but your best friend.
“oh my god!,” she gasped, “don’t tell me you’re going with na jaemin?!”
“ok, i won't tell you i'm going with na jaemin,” you joked, trying to keep the energy light but you see the way her smile has disappeared into a thin line, eyebrows slightly furrowing.
“y/n-, i told you…you don’t have to do anything,” she breathes out, almost angry.
“giselle, you lost your virginity to him! and then he pretends you don’t exist?!,” you point out, reminding her of his faulty actions and how much he deserves what’s coming to him.
“so what!?, i probably would have lost my virginity to another jerk if not him, at least he gave me a good time,” you actually can’t believe she’s defending him right now, a frustrated expression appearing on your face.
“are you kidding me?! you cried over him for a week!,” you cursed, remembering the time you had to pick up the mess jaemin made.
“yes because i lost my virginity to a fuckboy!…not because that fuckboy was him, it could've been any one of them and i still would have cried,” she explains, “...but i'm over it!, i’ve been over it!,” she yells, arms flinging around, “besides virginity is a social construct anyways i feel much better without that word hanging over my head and since he’s slept with me i’ve had soooo many guys in my dms—,” she reasons out, rambling, almost losing focus until she caught herself.
“—so please y/n,” she snaps her attention back to you, holding your hands “—don’t waste your time on na jaemin and just…enjoy a good fucking party,” she practically begged.
“no,” you reply sternly, letting go of her hands “he needs to know how it feels like to get his heart broken. if not for you then i'm doing this for all the other girls who have cried over him,”
giselle sighs, your stubbornness was always a problem and she knew well enough that once you’ve set your mind on something, nothing can change it, “whatever y/n, don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face, he isn’t as dumb as you think,” she walks out, leaving you to wallow in your thoughts alone.
𓏲𝄢
dear mr. cupid,
i’m going to my first party ever! how can i make sure i catch the attention of the person i like?
love,
heart
“be safe. don’t let anyone take advantage of you. and for the person you like? confidence is key. wear your head high, flash on your beautiful smile and always be one step ahead.” - mr. cupid.
loud music, red solo cups, couples sticking their tongue down each other's throat, a guy wearing a diaper holding a toy bow and arrow drunk in the front lawn and it’s only 9pm.
this is the infamous valentines day party?
you wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back to the safety of your dorm room, hide under the blankets and binge watch cheesy rom-com movies until the sun comes up.
before you can psych yourself out, an unknown voice makes its way to your ears, “you must be, angel?,” the figure walks up to you, a smirk etched onto his face.
“and you are?,” you ask, already feeling a bit uncomfortable.
“haechan,” he introduces, hand going up for a handshake. he waits for yours but you never give it, only glancing at his hand with a slight look of disgust. quickly retracting it, the boy runs a hand through his long dark hair, laughing it off.
“he was right,” he comments, looking you up and down, “sorry?,” this is by far the most confusing conversation you’ve ever had. you’ve decided you hated parties.
“...long hair, soft skin, pretty smile and dressed in the cutest outfit, you are exactly his type,” he mumbles, sipping from his cup and taking a step towards you.
ahhh so he’s talked about you.
haechan’s figure towers over you and you’re now very aware that he’s an intoxicated man and you’re in nothing but a tight pink dress who forgot to bring some sort of self defense weapon. you hold onto your purse a little tighter, ready to swing if it comes down to it.
“back off, haechan,” jaemin’s deep voice echoes from behind you. his familiar presence brings you a sense of comfort. you’d take him over this random guy in front of you any day. though you’re not entirely sure it’s better.
“just introducing myself,” haechan smirks, raising his hands in mock surrender as the taller boy steps up beside you, “see you later, angel,” haechan bids his goodbye, walking back into the loud frat house.
“sorry about that, he gets a little too confident when he’s drunk but he’s never physically hurt anyone…just a whole lot of talk really,” jaemin snaps your attention back to him.
“physically?,” you question, head tilted.
“well, i can’t say the same for emotionally, he’s a heartbreaker you know?,” jaemin chuckles, taking a step closer to you.
“and you’re not?,” you look at him quizzically, smirk on your lips, challenging him.
“you look really beautiful, angel,” he ignores your question, choosing to lean in and compliment you instead, playful smile on his lips, “stick close to me tonight okay, you don’t want another heartbreaker getting near you,” he whispers, sending goosebumps throughout your skin.
jaemin watches you intently, “now, c’mon…let’s go inside,” he leads the way to the entrance with you following right behind him, head held high.
if you thought the outside was bad, the inside of the house was a whole different nightmare. the music booming filling up every corner of your mind, sweaty bodies bumping and grinding against each other, more lip locking, not entirely sure who’s paired up with who, everyone just kissing everyone, one side of the room chanting “shot, shot, shot,” the other side carrying someone on the keg stand. the air was thick with the stench of alcohol and a mix of different flavors of vape smoke, hitting you all at once. you were definitely out of your element, panic settling in the pit of your stomach.
jaemin quickly senses your discomfort, your feet frozen to the ground, wincing as you look around the room, taking it all in. he walks towards you, gently lacing his fingers around yours, “just stay close to me, okay, y/n?,” gone was the smirk that you swore was glued on to his face, eyes full of concern. you nod, tightening your grip around his hand before he led you deeper into the room and into the kitchen where there were less people.
“ahh, there they are, took you guys long enough, i thought you may have just led her right to your bedroo-oW,” haechan fumbles over after the guy next to him punched him in the stomach, “what the fuck, mark?,” he groans in pain, mark ignoring him.
“please ignore hyuck, he’s had too much to drink…i’m mark,” mark smiles at you, he seems normal enough. this time you accept the handshake, “im y/n,” you reply, shooting him a quick smile, “i thought his name was haechan?,” your eyes darted between the three boys, pointing at haechan who was still soothing his pained stomach.
“haechan when he’s flirting, donghyuck to his friends,” mark says, clearing it up for you.
“you don’t have to tell her that, we’re not friends,” the boy chimes in and you agree, “he’s right,” making him perk up, “on a second thought, maybe we can be friends,” he says cheerfully, “sorry about my behavior, y/n,” he drunkenly apologizes, pout on his lips and you’re confused at the sudden change in his behavior.
“praise him once and he’ll do anything for you,” jaemin explains, chuckling at his friend’s antics and handing you a cup, “drink?,” he asks.
you eye the red cup suspiciously, “it’s just coke and henny,” jaemin says, taking a sip out of the cup to let you know that it’s safe to drink. you appreciate the action, “thanks,” you say, taking the cup from his hold and taking a sip. the taste was absolutely repugnant and you try your best to not let it show on your face.
“oooh that’s basically a kiss,” renjun from your art class walks in, teasing, and your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. there’s no way he’s here right now? renjun was so polite and proper, what the hell was he doing here?
you realized now that you actually had no idea what happens in your university. too absorbed in your own bubble to know who’s friends with who, “ooooh jaemin and angel sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” haechan sings making the boy’s chuckle as you tried to hide your face behind the red solo cup.
jaemin shoots you a smile before getting dragged away by mark to the other side of the room, creating more mixed drinks for the party, leaving you with haechan and your fellow art classmate.
“hey, i’m renjun,” he walks up to you casually earning a slight nod from you, “you must be angel?,” he questions and all you do is nod, downing your drink, trying to ignore the burning in your throat, “okayy?,” he eyes you suspiciously and you’re afraid your cover has been blown until haechan grabs his hand, “don’t stare at my friend, it makes her uncomfortable,” he steps in and suddenly you’ve decided that haechan is your favorite.
“let’s go look for jisung, i still gotta teach him how to do that tongue thing,” haechan says, grabbing renjun and mark out of the room. you don’t even want to know what tongue thing they’re talking about, just grateful for the fact that renjun was finally gone.
“woahh, slow down angel,” jaemin makes his way back to you, taking the cup out of your hands, “what?,” you didn’t even realize you were still drinking it, too caught up in trying to not get caught.
“you finished it,” he says, almost proud, chuckling at your actions.
“oh…,” you sigh, looking at the empty cup. well, that’s not good. you’re not exactly a pro when it comes to alcohol and you can feel it catching up to you now, the heat in your face growing as a carefree laugh slipped from your lips, “i guess i did.”
jaemin finds you absolutely adorable, “let’s go dance, angel,” grabbing both of your hands and dragging you out of the kitchen, into the crowded living room, a strong hold around your waist, making sure you don’t trip amongst the crowd of people.
the music sounds so much better with the alcohol in your system. for a moment you let yourself enjoy it as you swayed to the beat, singing at the top of your lungs, jaemin right behind you, hands on your waist as your bodies were pushed closer and closer until there was no longer any space in between you.
maybe you understand parties now? you have never felt more free than you did now, all the worries and anxiety that came from school completely leaving your body. the only thing on your mind is the alcohol and jaemin’s warm hands electrifying your waist.
he turns you around in his embrace, coming face to face with his huge smile, “are you having fun!?,” he yells over the loud music.
the red heart shaped lights flashes around the room, illuminating his features, making him glow.
mr. cupid’s words ringing in your ear — be confident.
and so with the help of liquid courage, you wrap your hand around his neck, the smile on your lips never leaving as you made the first move, pulling him towards you, and catching him by surprise, “yes,” you whisper against his lips before finally connecting like they were magnets.
his lips were so soft against yours, jaemin quick to lead like this was a rehearsal he’s rehearsed a million times.
if you were to ask him, he knew you wouldn’t last long — this whole act of pretending to care about his photography. he’ll give you credit for being clever, for letting the romantic in him live for a couple of hours but at the end of night he is who he is. you want one thing from him and he wants one thing from you. he knows how this goes.
his hold on your waist tightened pulling you even closer, the growing bulge in his jeans felt hot against your thigh. one of his hands made its way to your cheeks, thumb softly grazing your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss, tongue swiping at your bottom lip for entrance. the taste of alcohol and spearmint lingers as your tongue meets – he was a good fucking kisser and so dangerously intoxicating. he lightly bites your bottom lip, slowly pulling away and making his way down your neck.
“what do you say, we take this up to my room, angel?,” he whispers, sucking the sensitive spot right below your ear, earning a light moan from you. the mention of his room reminds you of why you were here in the first place. that’s the location you needed to get to. you nod, giving him the go signal, the smirk back on his face as he led you up the stairs. you hear the hollers of the people around you. to them, you were going to be another name under his belt and you’ve never felt more sick to your stomach than now. to think, for a brief moment, you were actually having fun with him.
as soon as you entered the quiet of his room, the only sound that filled the air was the faint hum of music drifting from downstairs, helping you think a lot more clearer. jaemin’s lips were littering kisses down your neck, body trapped between his large figure and his bedroom door. this was enough.
“jaemin-,” you sigh, “yes, angel?,” he murmurs against your skin. you lightly push him away, “i-i don’t want to do this,” you mutter out, looking down at the floor, making sure you look embarrassed from your actions.
jaemin immediately stops, taking a step back and giving you space, “that’s okay, we don’t have to do anything,” you look up at him, expecting to see an annoyed expression at you wasting his time but all that greets you is a quiet shock on his face, a momentary confusion before his eyes turned upwards, kind and gentle. the same genuine smile you briefly saw at the cafe making an appearance and it surprises you.
“sorry,” you whispered softly.
“no need for apologies, y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he says gently, grabbing your hand and leading you to sit on his bed. you take note of the way he calls you by your actual name when it matters.
“uhm can i get you anything?,” he asks you sweetly, a little awkward.
this entire situation has got you wondering if he was more like his fake persona in real life…but you can’t be blinded by his sweet actions. this is his tactic.
ladies and gentlemen — the sweet fuckboy.
“could you get me a glass of water?,” you ask and he quickly complied “of course, i’ll be right back, make yourself comfortable,” he smiles at you, still that same genuine smile and you almost believe it.
the sound of the door shutting has you on your feet in no time, ignoring the dizziness and blurred vision that came with the alcohol.
you quickly look around his room for any signs of mr. cupid, taking note of his bare walls — absolutely nothing that leads to him being the anonymous radio host.
making your way over to his dresser, you rummage through his drawers, shutting the first drawer as soon as you opened it, the space filled with packets and boxes of condoms and a bottle of lube. the next drawer you opened, to your luck, was his underwear drawer, you shut that one tight as well. you quickly look through each one, not finding a single thing, eyes quickly scanning the room, heart beating quicker as you feel yourself running out of time and then you see it…a box hidden at the bottom of his desk tucked all the way in the back…jackpot.
you open the box to pictures of him at the studio, the mr. cupid neon sign logo right behind him as he sits prettily behind the microphone. you find yourself laughing like a maniac, here it is! proof!
you can finally take him down.
quickly taking one of the pictures, you neatly tuck it in your purse before placing the box back where it belonged, running back to his bed to compose yourself, feeling like you just ran a half marathon.
𓏲𝄢
“that was quick,” jeno snickers as jaemin enters the kitchen, grabbing you a cold glass of water.
jaemin shakes his head at his friend’s comment, “we didn’t do anything, she actually told me to stop,” he explains leaving both of them dumbfounded.
“really?,” chenle inquired, a puzzled look on all of their faces.
“really,” jaemin confirmed, “i told you, she might be different,” he smiled a lovesick smile and they knew their friend was in trouble – he was letting his hopeless romantic side win once again.
“you’ve only known her two days, jaemin,” jeno reminds him, “how can you be so sure?,” he challenged.
“well, if she was like the rest, i would be inside her right now,” jaemin points out, earning a playful punch from the two boys.
jaemin was used to girls wanting him for one thing and one thing only – bragging rights.
it’s not a secret that he was known for only sleeping with the hottest, prettiest girls on campus. in turn, he has been a personal target for them, feeling justified and confident when jaemin gives them the time of the day and well, how could he pass up the offer?
they used him for reputation and he wasn’t a saint. he used them for easy sex. everyone wins. after a while he stopped trying to remember their names but the hopeless romantic in him lives on through his persona. he tries his best to add in a bit of romance but no girl could even fathom the idea of one of the fuck boys falling in love. no girl could even trust him to do so. only one girl told him she loved him but how could she? when all she knew about him was that he was incredibly good in bed.
so this, right now, the rejection he just received from you – it feels sweet on his tongue.
jaemin notices your disheveled appearance as he walks back in his room. you’re still sitting where he left you, sweat trickling down your forehead. he glances around his room, concern creeping into his voice, “you okay?”
were you okay? hell yeah, you felt fucking great you could hardly control the giddiness seeping out of you.
“i-uhm, don’t think the alcohol is settling in my stomach properly,” you lie. well, it was a half truth. the alcohol coursing through your system doesn't feel as great anymore and now that the adrenaline has worn off, an overwhelming wave of nausea hits, leaving you feeling sick to your stomach.
“c’mon, drink this,” he makes his way over to you. the cool water is refreshing, but it does little to ease the churning in your stomach.
jaemin grabs something on his desk before making his way behind you, gently brushing your hair out of your face, carefully tying it up into a ponytail. he was surprisingly really good at it and you can’t help but wonder how much practice he’s had.
he kneels before you, gentle eyes matching his kind smile, “not much of a party goer are you?,” earning a soft nod from you, “it’s my first party” you confess, earning a shocked expression from him, “i shouldn’t have given you that cup,” he sighs, grabbing one of his jackets and softly placing it around your shoulders.
“let’s get you home, angel,” he says sweetly, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before helping you up and leading you out of the fraternity.
𓏲𝄢
“you really don’t have to walk me all the way to my dorm,” you say again for the third time.
“i told you y/n, i’m not letting you walk home alone, you’re drunk—”
“i'm pretty sober now! i really am okay!,”
“—and it’s late, i don’t feel good about leaving any woman out here at this hour,” he insists, tightening the hold he had on your hand. with his caring nature, he reminds you more and more of mr. cupid.
it’s confusing. or maybe it was still the alcohol?
“well, here we are,” you point to the building of your dorm room, “thank you for walking me home, i'm sorry i crashed your party so early,” you apologize, taking note of the time, it was almost midnight.
“there will always be another party,” he shrugs, not at all caring about missing out on the fun, “thank you for showing up by the way, for letting me walk you home and–,” his hands finding that same spot around your waist, “happy valentine’s day, y/n,” eyes gazing into yours, voice barely a whisper, “can i kiss you goodnight, angel?”
instead of the usual teasing tone that accompanied the nickname, this time it was soft, calm, almost hypnotic.
he was so close, invading all your senses, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, fingers clenching his shirt as you waited, heart racing…you’re definitely blaming this on the alcohol.
jaemin takes this sign as a yes and soon enough his lips were on yours in a slow, intimate kiss — different from the rush kisses you’ve shared earlier that night.
before it could get deeper, jaemin pulls away, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, eyes fluttering open, “goodnight y/n,” he says, soft smile on his lips and your breath catches in your throat, unable to speak, “g-goodnight, jaemin,” you whisper.
he finally lets you go, but doesn’t leave until he’s sure you’re safely inside.
his lips still seem to linger on yours as you stood there, body pressed against the door, replaying everything that just happened.
𓏲𝄢
“STOP!-,” you point at the mirror, “what are you doing!…stop it now!,” you tell your reflection, who was looking back at you with a giddy smile.
“you’re still thinking about the kiss, i know you are!,” you talk to yourself and you swear maybe you’ve finally lost it.
“you can’t do this! this is part of his game plan and you have your own!,” you continue, arms flinging around like a crazy person.
“stick to the plan!,” you huff out, grabbing your laptop and shooting an email to mr. cupid.
dear mr. cupid,
i found that sweet guy i told you about. we spent valentine’s day together and i know this is cheesy but there were butterflies and all. i wanted to thank you for the helpful advice. please don’t read this out loud because i know he listens to this show and this is a bit embarrassing to say.
love,
angel
the next morning was a saturday and lucky for you, you had no saturday classes which meant you could go run to the safety of the art studio and paint to your heart’s content.
a way to debrief and just be yourself, shut your mind out from the rest of the world, even if it is just for a couple of hours. ditching the cute pink outfits, you settled for your go to paint splattered oversized t-shirts, matching your oversized sweatpants, hair in a messy bun, ready for the day.
as soon as you stepped outside, the sunlight blinding your eyes, a familiar voice hit you, halting you in your tracks, “good morning, angel!,” na jaemin stood before you, radiant as ever, eyes sparkling, smile beaming.
oh…why the hell did you bring him here last night?
now he knew exactly where you lived. now he knew exactly what you looked like. the real you, anyways. the alcohol truly was a horrible idea because him showing up here unannounced was something you didn’t plan for.
“what are you doing here?,” you say, almost harshly.
“i thought you would be hungover, so i brought you tea,” he says, walking over to you, finally taking note of the cup in his hand, “i promise you this is the only remedy you need to get rid of any headaches, proven and tested,” he smiles proudly.
you wait for him to say something about your appearance – a snide remark, a look of disgust, anything that shows his feeling of indifference but all you were met with were his eyes that for some stupid reason, can’t stop shining as he looks at you.
“thanks,” you say, grabbing the cup, “i’m busy right now though, so i’ll just take this and be on my way,” you finally shoot him a quick smile before turning around and briskly walking away.
“hold on, angel!,” jaemin yells out, quickly jogging up to you, making you curse under your breath. there’s no way you’re going to the art studio now.
“jaemin, i would really like to just have a me day,” you force out a smile before he could say anything else.
“of course,” he nods, completely understanding, “i-just, i-,” for the first time since you’ve met him, his confidence falters a bit, words getting lost in stutters.
“-is everything okay?,” worry laced in your voice. you can’t help it. this was abnormal behavior coming from him and you had a tendency to care too much.
he gives you a shy smile, “everything’s okay and i promise to leave you alone, i just need to ask for your help,” he finally says, you look at him quizzically, urging him to explain, “i have a project due at the end of the month, the theme is ‘recreating romantic cliche scenes,’ it’s exactly how it sounds…i was hoping you could be my partner,” he finishes, expectantly waiting for your answer.
“why me?,”
“there’s no one else i want to do this with but you, y/n,” he quietly confesses, cheeks turning pink, slightly embarrassed – different from he's usual flirting.
truth is, jaemin saw your confession in mr. cupid’s mailbox this morning. it was his final confirmation. you truly were different from the rest and he can’t help but feel those butterflies you were talking about.
you ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. it would be weird to say no, besides you have yet to accomplish step 2 - make him fall in love with you. so you answer with one word that captures jaemins attention, a smile of gratitude on his lips, “ok.”
as promised, jaemin left you alone for the rest of the day after asking for your phone number and an agreement to meet on monday which is when you would start. you agreed on one scene per day, a total of three scenes for his project.
you can’t expose him just yet and this project is the perfect way to stop finding excuses to meet up with him. it’s easier this way. the more time you spend with him, the more you can play the perfect girl.
the faster you can get na jaemin to fall in love with you.
𓏲𝄢
jaemin: hi angel, i'll meet you tomorrow at 7pm at the cafe at 127th street, wear something cute
the text message pops up on your phone on sunday night. you ignore the slight tingle in your stomach seeing his name on your phone.
the cafe at 127th street was a vintage coffee/bar, popular for its retro style and smoothies. you already know the kind of cliche scene he has prepared – sharing a smoothie.
y/n: can’t wait! see you there, jaemin <3
dear mr. cupid,
how can i tell if the guy i like, likes me back?
love,
heart
“if a guy likes you…you’ll know it, not a single doubt will cross your mind. you’ll see it through his actions, hear it in his words. he’ll share with you things he’s never shared with anyone else,” - mr. cupid.
the sound of 80’s love songs hit your ears as you entered the cafe. seeing as it’s a monday night, the space wasn’t filled and as loud as it usually is on weekends – most of it being taken up by retired senior citizens coming for a good time, away from the crowd of college students this place usually brought.
jaemin waves at you from the red booths, his angelic smile on his lips, the one you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. the smile that annoys you because of the feelings that were starting to appear every time you saw it.
you notice the camera has been set up to face the booth you will be sitting on, proper lighting placed around it to really illuminate the space, “hey, quick question,” you ask, greeting him. he gives you a quick side hug, before letting you ask your question, “since this is for your photography class, shouldn’t you be behind the camera?,” you wonder.
“well, photography is also all about the proper lighting and the editing which is the main focus for this project,” he answers your questions while clicking buttons on his fancy camera, eyes focused on the task at hand, “—and besides, if i have to take pictures of you acting these scenes out with someone else, i might crash out,” he winks at your direction, earning a playful eye roll from you.
“okay so what am i supposed to do,” you await his instructions, standing awkwardly.
“just wait a while, i’m still waiting on that chocolate smoothie,”
“ahhh so we are doing the ‘sharing a smoothie’ scene?,” you ask, eyes full of curiosity. he sends you a smile of confirmation, finishing his set up as you continue to watch him work. his eyes flickering around his camera, making sure everything is perfect. in a quick second, the flash of the camera blinds you.
“sorry angel, practice shot,” he smiles apologetically as you got up to see the photo he took. he moves to the side a bit, giving you room to see behind the lens. “oh my god, i look ridiculous,” you giggle at the expression you were making, a light shock on your face as you were staring not right at the camera but the figure behind it, “you look beautiful…as always,” jaemin whispers by your ear, a small smile starting to form on your face as you take note of all the colors and shadows the camera has picked up, “it looks really pretty,” you comment and jaemin observes the way you're taking every detail in.
you turn your face towards him, finally realizing how close he was to you. so close to the point you could remember the lingering feeling of his lips on yours. you could feel yourself leaning in when the waiter’s voice snaps you back to reality, the chocolate smoothie being served.
jaemin instructs you on what to do. sitting right across from him, the chocolate milkshake placed right in the middle of the table in between you, one straw for him, one straw for you.
“ready, angel?,” he asks you from across the booth, starting his countdown “…3, 2, 1…” as soon as he reached 1, you both leaned in, taking a sip out of your separate straws, eyes locked together, FLASH, you held your breath, making sure not to move, only focused on the warm brown eyes that seemed to look right into you.
after making sure the camera captured the moment perfectly, you finally break away, giggles erupting from both of you as you reach over to wipe the whipped cream that painted the corner of his lips, before getting up to check the picture.
“looks good to me,” you say, opposite to jaemin sighing next to you, “there’s a glare on the corner,” he comments, his attention to detail spot on as you looked a little closer and noticed exactly what he was referring to.
“let’s take it again,” he instructs, ordering another chocolate milkshake.
“jaemin, can’t we just drink from the same one?,”
“no, the whipped cream is already a mess,” he pouts and you respect it.
as an artist yourself, his attention to detail was admirable and you find yourself liking this serious side of him. how much time and effort he puts into it — completely opposite from the way he treated his relationships. this was a side of him you’ve never heard of, a side of him that you wished to know.
the waiter comes back again, serving a new set of chocolate milkshake, snapping you out of your thoughts as you make your way back into the booth, ready to pose for the camera.
this time the picture turned out perfectly. you can tell by the way jaemin's eyes lit up like a child on christmas day, the way his smile grew on his face before turning to you and nodding his head in approval.
you find yourself getting lost in him. he was so beautiful like this — indulged in his work, an innocent glow radiating off of him, “come, take a look,” he invites.
immediately, you could see the difference. you’re not sure what he did, which buttons he pressed to make this picture turn out like this but it looked straight out of a movie scene and he hasn’t even edited it.
the two of you spent the rest of the night finishing the two chocolate milkshakes, listening to whatever song people chose to play on the coin jukebox. at one point, jaemin even got you dancing with him, joining the crowd of elderly’s on the dance floor. he shows off his silly dance moves, like he was one of the grandpa’s in the cafe.
“you’ve got a charming young man, my husband was exactly like that when we first met,” a lady whispered in your ear, a blush appearing on your cheeks at her comment.
“he’s not really my man,” you confess to her, smiling sheepishly.
“oh but he will be sweetheart, no one will act that foolish if they weren’t interested,” she points out, directing your attention back to jaemin, who was already looking right at you before joining the grandpa’s dance battle, making sure you were watching every move he made — making you laugh like you’ve never laughed before.
the night ended with him walking you to your dorms, a soft kiss placed on your lips before the two of you bid your goodnights. you swore your cheeks hurt from smiling too much.
and what’s worse? you couldn’t blame this on the alcohol. you walked up to your room with a heavy heart. the weight on your shoulders getting heavier as you remembered this was all part of the plan and there was no way you were going to lose to his charms.
𓏲𝄢
dear mr. cupid,
i like his serious side. i hope he’s serious with me too.
love,
angel
the next day, jaemin tells you to meet them at their frat house for the next scene. you hoped to god, renjun wasn’t there. you’re not entirely sure how you were going to hide from him this time around. but just to make sure he doesn’t recognize you, you amp up the makeup a tiny bit more, completely opposite from the minimal to none makeup you usually go for during classes.
you rang the doorbell once before coming face to face with none other than renjun himself – of fucking course, just your luck.
“hey, it’s you,” he greets you and suddenly you’re frozen in place, does he know?
“you’re not much of a talker are you?,” he asks, eyeing you up and down, “uhmm-,” you try to find your words but not a single sentence escapes your lips, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.
renjun sighs, definitely weirded out, “he’s upstairs,” he says before stepping aside and letting you in, it takes you a second or two to find your steps, walking into the house. it was much bigger now that no one was around and surprisingly, it was clean, like it wasn’t filled with boys 24/7.
“-it’s so clean,” you weren’t aware you said it out loud until renjun’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
“ahhh and she does talk,” renjun grins,” jaemin’s a clean freak so we have to keep this space clean or he starts nagging,” he explains and you nod in response. that was definitely a fun fact.
“anyways, just go up the stairs, i think you already know where his room is,” he smirks, before walking away and leaving you to it.
as soon as he was gone, you felt like you could finally breathe. he didn’t know it’s you. shaking your worries away, you make your way up the stairs, knocking against the door you remembered.
“come in,” you hear jaemin’s voice from the other side before turning the knob and entering his room. it looked exactly like the night of the party.
he immediately lights up as soon as you enter, attention focused on you, as he greeted you with a kiss. it was starting to get ridiculous how much your heart skips a beat every time his lips touched yours.
you weren’t really expecting to be kissing him this much to begin with but that doesn’t stop you from kissing back, your lipstick staining his lips, “sorry,” you giggled as you gently wiped it off of him.
“that’s okay, pink is my color anyways,” he says before stealing another quick peck. at this rate, you’re not entirely sure who was making who fall in love anymore.
“okayyy,” you push him back playfully, chuckling, “what scene are we doing today?,” making jaemin wiggle his eyebrows as he made his way to his closet, pulling out a vintage boombox.
“where the hell did you get that?,” you ask, inspecting the old device.
“i have my ways,” he winks, “so…you ready to win me back?,” he smirks and your jaw drops, “i have to be the one holding it?,” you ask, flabbergasted. boomboxes aren’t exactly the lightest objects in the world and you barely had any arm strength. for god’s sake you were a painter, your hands were as gentle as a feather.
“you’re my muse angel, you gotta be in the picture,” he flashes you an apologetic smile in a way that he wasn’t really sorry, instead finding that pout on your lips amusing.
so now you’re here standing a little outside the porch of his steps, boombox over your head, as jaemin angles the camera from the balcony, capturing you perfectly…well, not quite, “wait, the sun is in your eyes!, move to the left a little bit!,” he shouts from the second floor, as you quickly follow his instructions, “is this good?!,” you yell back, earning a nod of approval from the boy.
he takes another snap and another and another – this time around, you curse his attention to detail, your arms starting to burn, back starting to ache, legs getting tired from standing for so long with the heavy boombox over your head, “jaemin, are we almost done!,” you yell out, annoyance seeping through you.
“just one more shot angel, i promise!,” he shouts back. and so you do one more shot for him, posing in the way he wanted and just like he promised, it was finally over.
jaemin hurries down the steps of the fraternity house as you head back inside, “sorry, that took longer than i expected,” he says, gently taking the boombox from your hold, swapping it instead with a cool glass of water he had readily prepared for you.
taking a napkin, he carefully dabs away the sweat that has formed around your temples, “it’s okay, did the pictures turn out okay?,” you ask, offering him a warm smile.
“come see for yourself,” his hand envelops yours, tugging you up the stairs and onto the balcony where he had been standing. and just like the diner photo, this one also looked exactly out of a rom-com movie.
“wow, guess it only takes an amazing photographer for me to look like a lead in a movie,” you compliment and jaemin can’t help but grin from ear to ear, your praise going straight to his heart.
“well, a photographer also needs a beautiful muse, so thank you,” he smiles warmly, “and since you went through all that trouble for me, i want to show you something,” he says shyly before taking your hand in his once again and leading you back to his bedroom.
you make yourself comfortable, sitting on his computer chair as he rummages through his shelves, looking for something. after a minute or two, he takes out a large book and slowly, hesitantly, makes his way over to you, carefully landing the book on your lap.
“what’s this?,” you ask, curiously inspecting the outside of the book.
“that day in the cafe, you asked to see my photos,” you realize now that what you were holding was a photo album.
“i’ve never really shown them to anyone before so please be kind to me,” he says, rambling nervously, “of course constructive criticism is always welcome and you don’t have to like it,” he chuckles softly, trying to play it cool, hoping you won’t notice how loudly his heart was pounding in his chest.
“jaemin, you don’t have to show me this,” you say, your breath catching in your throat, heart aching.
for the first time since all of this began, you realize that jaemin is being entirely sincere with you. and here you are, sitting on his bed, taking up space, with a knife hidden behind your back.
“y/n, i want to show you,” he admits, “you’ve been entirely honest with me and i’m ready to do the same,” he says, nudging the album in your hand, wanting you to finally open it.
if only he knew.
you couldn’t take looking into his warm brown eyes any longer, focusing instead on the photo album.
finally turning a page. the first picture that greets you is of a woman that resembles the man in front of you, a shining smile on her face as she sat on a picnic blanket, the green scenery behind her making it look like she was straight out of a fairytale.
“that’s my mom, most important person in my life, she loves going on picnics,” he quietly comments, snapping your attention back to him, you give him a smile, “she’s beautiful jaemin, you captured her perfectly,” your voice faltering, before turning to the next page.
you recognize the next picture was of the boy you met during the party - mark, his name was. holding a guitar, and just like his mother in the previous page, he had a happy smile on his face, clutter of music sheets surrounding him.
the next couple of pages were all the boys you recognize from his fraternity, each one sporting a look of contentment in a place where they seemed to belong.
jaemin watches you flip from page to page, taking in the way your eyes would widen, the small smile that would appear in your lips as you looked over every photograph. his heart pounding in his chest. he wanted to impress you.
you turn and turn, getting to the photos where he was in, with his family and his friends. the sweet smile that he would share with you all marked in these pages. you realized those were your favorite. you wanted to paint it. wanted to capture every detail and keep it to yourself.
then, at the very last page was the picture of you – sitting in the cafe, on that very first date the two of you had.
you felt like you lost the ability to speak, just staring at the photo, guilt creeping in your heart. you didn’t deserve a place in these pages yet here you were… and he has managed to make you look as beautiful as the rest, like you were a part of everything good and true in his life.
“why am i on here?,” you shakily whisper, trying to push back the lump forming in your throat.
“these are all stories i want to keep forever,” jaemin softly whispers, “and i told you y/n, i like this story,” you turn to look at him, reading him. looking into his eyes, you see nothing but honesty.
the boy in front of you has finally let his walls down but you don’t feel an ounce of accomplishment. none of the feelings of gratification that you were supposed to be feeling came. the thoughts of revenge so far back in your mind.
instead you sat there, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life as you inched closer, closing the space in between you and capturing his lips in yours. jaemin quickly responds, kissing you back just as sweetly. the gravity of the moment hanging in the air.
“i'm guessing you like it?,” he asks.
"i love it," you confess, just before he pulls you in for another kiss, feeling his smile against your lips.
𓏲𝄢
jaemin walks back into the fraternity just right after dropping you off. head all up in the clouds, a love arrow happily pierced right into his heart as he hums a tune. he’s loving the constant goodnight kisses, loving the thought of being able to kiss you forever.
“jaemin–,” a voice strictly calls out to him, bringing him back to reality.
“yes, my lovely friend, renjun,” he sighs happily, sitting across from him on the living room couch.
“how long have you known, angel?,” renjun inquired.
“a week now, why?,” jaemin asks, nonchalantly. if he was here to tell him that he was being a hopeless romantic again then he doesn’t really want to hear it. this time he knows it’s different.
if the butterflies in his stomach weren't proof enough, the messages you leave for mr. cupid sure was.
“there’s something off about her,” renjun comments, making jaemin roll his eyes, “oh c’mon, you say this about every girl im with,” he points out. renjun has always been picky with the company his friends kept so this wasn’t really new to him.
“i’m serious jaemin, she seems familiar but i just can’t place my finger on it,” renjun ponders, earning a scoff from the younger boy, “there’s no placing your finger on anything, she goes to our university, you’ve probably seen her walking around campus,” he reasons out.
“whatever jaemin, just be careful,” renjun advised before walking out of the living room and up the stairs.
jaemin shakes his head, thinking back to the memory of you looking through his photo album and once again, find himself humming, smiling at the ceiling. there was absolutely nothing anyone could say to ruin this for him.
dear mr. cupid,
i think i'm falling for him.
love,
angel
you hated yourself that night.
𓏲𝄢
jaemin leads you to the parking lot, hand in hand. you inspect the location, wondering what romantic scene he had planned out for the last scenario. you’ve been dreading this moment, realizing that it’s soon coming to an end. every tick of the clock leads you to step three: breaking his heart.
you stop in front of a silver car, your brain not connecting the pieces together. turning to the boy right next to you with a set of curious eyes.
“we're going to a new location for this one,” he explains, opening the car door up for you. you don’t question it, somehow you trust him enough to hop into the passenger seat.
jaemin ensures you're securely buckled in before stealing a quick kiss, leaving a surprised flush on your face. with a smile, he jogs around and settles into the driver’s seat, putting the car in drive and hitting the gas.
you sat in silence, gazing out the window as the scenery shifted, the soft hum of the radio barely audible, allowing your mind to wander.
as you reflected on the past few days, each quiet moment seemed to lead you back to this – the heavy weight of dread and guilt slowly taking over.
the once alluring idea of revenge now tastes bitter on your tongue. you expected it to be difficult, but you never anticipated that the true challenge would be the way he’d quietly capture pieces of your heart and how you didn’t mind it at all.
in fact, you liked it. you liked being around him, liked his stolen kisses, his stories, his gentleness, the warmth that he left on your skin with every touch, his laugh and most of all, that stupid sweet smile he always seems to be sporting around you.
you’ve replayed it in your mind a thousand times, torn between the devil and the angel on your shoulders, unsure if this plan is worth risking the bond you've built with him. but every time, the same side wins — the side of pride, the side that tells you this is all still a lie. and if it’s not, then the truth remains. this relationship was born from anger and hate.
jaemin interlaces his fingers around yours, grabbing your hand, bringing you back in the car with him, “what are you thinking about?,” he asks softly. even without looking at him, you can see the smile on his face, the gentleness in his tone.
“just thinking about where we're going,” you lie, staring at your interlocked fingers that somehow seemed to fit like two perfect puzzle pieces.
“hmm, we’re going down south, to busan,” he answers and your eyes almost bulge out of your head, “what?!,” he chuckles at your expressive reaction, “jaemin that’s like a 4 hour drive,” you sulk in your seat, hand still in his, “why do we need to go that far?”
“for rain,” he shrugs, bringing your hand up to his lips as he placed a soft kiss upon your knuckles. you fight the urge to smile.
“what exactly do you have planned, loverboy?,” you tease him, pushing all your previous thoughts to the side and focusing on this moment.
“oh you know, pretty rain, pretty girl,” he tosses you a look, confirming your thoughts. he was planning to do the ever so famous rain kiss.
“if you wanted to kiss me, you don’t even need to ask,” you teased, earning a playful laugh from him, “-will keep that in mind, angel,” he winks.
the rest of the car ride was spent singing to whatever was on the radio, learning each other’s favorite things, sharing fun stories and a few more stolen kisses, some of them coming from you.
it all felt comfortable, almost like you were always meant to be here with him by your side. eventually, sleep crept up on you, leaving jaemin in the warm silence, eyes occasionally drifting to your figure, finding peace in the calm as he drove.
the next time you open your eyes is when you finally get to the location jaemin had in mind. it was cloudier here, the sky already casting a soft gray hue. jaemin sets up his equipment, preparing for the rain, while you rush to assist, quickly placing everything into the makeshift set. the lush green landscape stretches around you, the open field decorated with blooms of pinks, whites and yellows, while the river in the distance adds a cool touch of blue. you’re not entirely sure if the camera could capture the beauty of nature but you trust jaemin will find a way to make it come to life.
the rain came at the perfect moment.
jaemin decided to hit record on his camera instead, explaining how it’d be easier for the two of you, since he didn't have to run back and forth to take the picture.
he led you to the right spot, flashing you a smile before his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and without wasting another second his lips were on yours. heart immediately racing in your chest as you move in complete synchronization, lips chasing his as he took the lead.
the rain continuously pouring over you.
when you could no longer breathe, you pull away, giggles erupting from both of your chests.
the rain pours harder and harder. jaemin feels like he’s been struck by lightning, your giggles melodically ringing in his ear.
he pulls you back in again, kissing you gently, so intimately, like he forgot there was a camera a couple feet away. every kiss, he loses himself in you, melting under your fingertips and for the first time in forever he says words he’s never said to any girl.
“i really like you, y/n,” he confesses, the words floating in the air, replacing the sound of the rain thumping on the ground, filling every corner of your mind. he rests his forehead against yours, warm brown eyes filled with sincerity, making you unable to breathe.
and just like that, the other side won — the side that has fallen for him. the one that believes this is real. the side that likes hearing your name slip from his lips, the stolen kisses, the warmth of his hand in yours, the laughter and of course that sweet smile forever etched in your mind.
you don’t want to let go of any it.
instead, you decide to throw your four step plan out the window, casting away all thoughts of revenge that once burdened your heart.
in that moment, you felt light, free.
the rain fell in an endless rhythm, drumming against your skin, soaking every inch of you, but you barely noticed it as you kissed him again. this time with a passion that made it feel like your life depended on it.
he’s a dream you couldn’t bear to lose, a fleeting moment you feared would vanish the moment you opened your eyes. but then you feel him smile against your lips, warm hands tightening around your waist as he pulls you even closer and you’re reminded that this is real and exactly where you want to be.
you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s embrace until the cold slowly crept in, seeping through your clothes.
the rain never letting up.
𓏲𝄢
jaemin did not plan this well at all. besides the fact that he didn’t think to bring extra clothes, the light showers the weather app had predicted had turned into a brutal rainstorm and it was getting harder for him to drive, the droplets continuing to pour heavily on the car window.
“angel, we’re gonna need to stop and stay overnight somewhere,” he suggested in which you quickly agreed to, prioritizing safety. which is how you ended up sitting on the bed with nothing but the bathrobe that came with the hotel, your clothes drying in the bathroom that was currently occupied by none other than jaemin, himself.
the hotel only had one room available and of course, like this was all a part of your doom, that available room happened to have only one bed.
you’ve already taken your shower, washing off the remnants of the cold rain sticking to your body. now that you're in the safety of the warm room, waiting for the boy to finish, your mind can’t help but wander at the possibilities the night held. you’re not entirely sure you could stop yourself if he decides to advance. in fact, you’re not entirely sure you could control yourself around him.
shaking the thoughts away, you finish drying your hair before getting under the bedsheets and tucking yourself in, making sure your robe hugged tightly around your body.
grabbing the remote from the bedside table, you switch the t.v. on, hoping the noise could drown out the nerves. you settled on the channel playing harry potter and the goblet of fire, forcing yourself to focus on the movie instead of the boy that was as naked as you just on the other side of the bathroom door.
jaemin steps out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, his robe hanging loosely around his body, a bit of his toned chest exposed to the cool air. you try not to stare for too long as he walks around the room, eyes on the t.v. he quickly shuts off the lights before finally settling on the chair, farthest away from your side of the bed, “i love this movie,” he comments, your heart pounding in your chest at the sound of his voice, somehow raspier in the night.
the effect he had on you was absolutely insane. you’ve had sex before, had a couple tricks up your sleeve but nothing like what you’ve heard about jaemin. the fact that he was amazing at sex was a known fact throughout the entire university, girls always giggling about how they had the best night of their lives and how they couldn’t walk the next morning.
turning your head towards him, you’ve realized how engrossed he actually is in the movie that’s playing and it makes you feel silly. jaemin has never made you do anything you didn’t want to do and not once has he ever crossed a line. you really needed to get your head out of the gutter.
“why are you sitting all the way over there? this bed is big enough for both of us you know,” you say, capturing his attention, reminding him of the fact that this bed is a queen sized bed.
he sends you a soft smile, “i’m a gentleman, angel”
“oh please,” you scoff playfully, “we’re both adults, we can control ourselves,” you point out, completely contradicting your thoughts and burying yourself in a bigger hole. it’s not that you were trying to provoke him, it’s just that he was the one who paid for the room and you would feel absolutely awful if he had to squeeze himself in the chair, that was obviously too small and uncomfortable, the whole night.
you pat the empty space beside you, “c’mon, i won’t bite,” you playfully tease.
unbeknownst to you, jaemin was in a way tougher spot.
he accidentally caught a glimpse of your pink lacy underwear, the one you left behind in the shower, tucked in between the rest of your clothes, and couldn’t get the image of you in a matching set out of his head. then his mind started to get a little out of control, if your underwear were here then that must only mean you were completely naked underneath that white robe.
he had to relieve himself in the shower, hand wrapped tightly around his hard cock, biting back his moans as his mind brought him to images of you. he thought jerking himself off in the bathroom would help push away all his desire for the rest of the night but as soon as he stepped into your room and saw how small you looked, tucked into the queen sized bed, he felt his cock twitch under his robe again. which is why he had to resort to turning off all the lights in the room, afraid you would see his boner poking out. then he sat there, focused on harry potter, as he tried to drown out your presence.
but now, you’re inviting him to take up the space next to you and god, you have absolutely no clue what you’re doing to him, it’s unfair. he feels disgusted at the fact that all he could think about is how much he wants to fuck you.
he really needed to get his mind out of the gutter.
slowly, he got up. surely this would not help his case but he didn’t want you to think he was a horndog that couldn’t control himself. he usually was better at this. it was just the fact that it was you and he wants you so bad. needs you. all those lingering touches and kisses finally catching up to him.
he focuses again on the screen ahead, the t.v. illuminating the dark room, light bouncing off of your faces as you sat in silence, just watching the movie play out. though if you asked him what just happened in the scene, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. his mind racing with anything that could help soften his dick.
at one point it got way too hot beneath the sheets and you made the mistake of releasing your arm out from the under and onto the bed, right next to where jaemin’s arm was lying. you try to ignore the heat radiating off of his body, try to ignore the rapid rhythm of your heart. pulling away would be suspicious so you kept it there.
jaemin’s eyes flicker from the t.v. to your hand. you were so close, all he had to do was move his pinky and his hand would be in yours.
his self-control was becoming thinner with every second that passed and before he even realized what he was doing, his pinky moved — bumping into yours and in the next second he had your hands locked together.
he turns his head towards you only to see you were already looking up at him, starry eyes locked on his for a second before you quickly turned away, blush creeping up your cheeks at being caught.
he can’t help himself anymore, moving away from the headboard and lowering himself down to the pillows as he turned his body in your direction. this time, when he turned to look at you, you were only a couple of inches away from him.
“angel,” he whispers. you cautiously turned your head towards his, knowing that there was absolutely no going back from this. the tension in the room has got you clenching at nothing and you were getting sick of it. you wanted him and you’re not entirely sure why you were holding back, considering the confessions you shared earlier.
jaemin takes a second to study your face, memorizing every freckle before he let his eyes finally dart down to your parted lips, “i really want to kiss you,” he confesses into the night air, like it was a secret no one else was allowed to hear.
“i thought i told you if you wanted to kiss me you don’t even need to ask,” you quietly tease and that was all jaemin needed to hear before giving in to the cravings of the night, harry potter long forgotten as he finally pressed his lips on yours.
he kisses you once, twice, three times before his tongue darts in begging for permission. your mouth immediately parting as you gave him access, tongues moving in melody.
the make out session grew heavier and heavier, fingers finding their way through his hair, lightly tugging, eliciting a messy whine from him, his moans sending tingles throughout your body. “fuck, y/n, i need you,” he groans against your lips and you couldn’t agree more.
you wanted his hands all over you, regretting how tightly you tucked yourself into the blankets. swiftly, and with jaemin’s help, you pushed the blanket off of you, never once breaking the kiss, leaving both of you in your robes. the lack of the heavy covers made it easier for your hands to roam, wandering down to his chests as jaemins hand settled on your back, a little bit above your ass, pulling you so close you could feel his bulge against your clothed core.
“take this off,” he demands, untying your robe and pushing it off of your shoulders, jaemin quickly tossing it somewhere across the room before hovering over you.
he takes a moment, taking you all in for the first time, practically drooling at the sight of you, you’re so beautiful to him. it’s as if an actual angel was right in front of him and the thought of him ruining you makes his cock twitch. he didn’t even know he could get this hard.
“jaemin, please do something,” you say, starting to feel insecure under his gaze. your small voice snaps him out of his daydream. “you’re so fucking beautiful,” he praises before his lips latched onto your nipple, sucking, licking, making your back arch towards him, moans slipping past your lips, other hand playing with the other bud, twisting, pinching and you feel like you could cum just from that.
“f-fuck jaemin, want you please,” you sigh in pleasure, hips bucking up in response to his actions.
“what do you want, angel?,” he asks, teasing you and it takes every ounce in you not to pounce on him.
“i want you to touch me, p-please,” you don’t even care how desperate you sounded right now.
“i am touching you, angel,” he was loving this way too much. the way you were unraveling underneath him and he hasn’t even touched the neediest part of your body.
“lower,” you plead, earning a smirk from him, “hmm, right here?,” he asks, his hand, wandering down to outline the curve of your waist and landing on your hip, rubbing soft circles around your love handles. you don’t know how much more teasing you could take, your pussy dripping with arousal, “lower, please,” you cry out, “tell me where, angel, want to hear it from you,” he grunts against your ear, leaving marks all over your neck, “i want your fingers inside of me, please,” you plead for the third time.
“anything my angel wants, she gets,” jaemin playfully whispers before his fingers found its way to your folds, rubbing up and down, “so wet already, all this for me huh,” he praises, your head nodding vigorously in response, “only for you, jaemin.”
happy with your response, his finger slides into you, finally giving you what you wanted. even with your pooling arousal, you were still so tight around his digit, making him curse. he curls his finger, immediately hitting that spot that made you see stars, eliciting a high pitched moan from you, pussy clenching even tighter.
“fuuck angel, im gonna need you to open up for me,” he slides another finger in, curling and scissoring againsts your walls, pleasure coursing through your veins, he was so so good.
“i need to taste you,” he warns before he was diving into your pussy, mouth sucking and blowing against your clit, lapping up your juices, catching your breath, “holy fuck, jaemin,” your stomach clenches, heat traveling all throughout your body as you feel your orgasm coming to a close embarrassingly soon.
“i-m gonna come, baby,” the new pet name drives jaemin absolutely crazy, fingers practically moving at a speed of light inside your walls as he continued to suck on your clit, “go ahead angel, come for me,” he moans against your pussy, the added vibrations rolling your eyes back as you lost the ability to moan, head falling backwards, mouth wide open as you came.
jaemin coaxes you through it, savoring every drop before his lips were back on yours, pulling you back down to reality as you taste yourself in his tongue.
“you okay?,” you hum in approval, a smile taking over your features as you kiss him back, hands quickly untying his robe. jaemin quickly responds, pushing the last piece of clothing away, cock springing free.
in one swift motion, you push him back down to the pillows, taking the lead as you straddled him, “your turn,” you whisper, a light shock appearing on the boy’s face before he settled into the bed, getting comfortable. one of his hands coming up to support the back of his head as he watched you, the other roaming all over your skin, a smirk displayed on his lips.
you were fucking nervous, you’ve never been this upfront in the bedroom but due to how much experience he had, you wanted to show him that you could keep up.
“want to make you feel good,” you whisper in his ear, making him shiver, he swears you were going to be the death of him. your lips found its way to his neck, decorating him with the same pinks and purples you’re sure he has left all over your body.
jaemin was very vocal, already whining under your touch, helping you completely push away any of the remaining worries you had. your fingers found it’s way around his nipples, lightly squeezing and you realized how sensitive he was as he squirmed below you, hips immediately thrusting up, “fuck, angel you’re gonna kill me,” he whines and you can’t help but let out a soft giggle as you travelled lower and lower, hand softly wrapping around his hard length, earning a breathily groan from him. you understood now why your body really needed to open up. he’s huge and you were definitely intimidated.
you start by kitten licking his tip making jaemin hold his breath as you stare up at him, his eyes completely blown out. you can tell how much restraint he’s trying to hold on to to not shove his cock down your throat. you don’t tease him for too long before finally taking his length in your mouth, sucking on his tip, jaemin’s groans immediately increasing as his hand found its way to your hair, gripping tightly, orgasm already creeping up.
you bobbed your head up and down, tears brimming in your eyes at his size. he has no idea what you’re doing to him, how you managed to have him coming undone in seconds, body shaking under your touch. no girl has made him cum this fast before, “fuck angel, i can’t last,” he manages to mumble in between heavy pants. the words encouraging you as your hand finds its way around his balls, gently cupping.
you barely touched him before he was toppling over, cum shooting down your throat with no warning, making you choke.
your hand continued to work him through his orgasm as you cleared your throat. jaemin had to practically push you away, “angel, please stop, i need to feel you,” he groans, pulling you back up to his lips and kissing you passionately.
carefully, he switches the position, having you under him once again. he reaches out for his wallet placed on the nightstand, taking the pack of condom and ripping it open with his teeth before placing it on his already semi hard cock, “god, look what you do to me,” he grunts.
your hand rubs up and down his thighs as you watch him swipe his length between your wet folds, the tension in your stomach building up once again.
he wraps your legs around him, kissing you slowly, so intimately, “i really fucking like you, y/n,” he admits for the second time that day, sending you what has now became your favorite smile.
“i really like you too, jaemin,” you reply, pulling him closer as he aligns his cock against your entrance.
jaemin wasn’t a fan of missionary but god, you’re so fucking beautiful, he wanted nothing more but to look at you when he entered, watching your face contort as you adjust to the size of his large cock, harmonized moans mixing in the air.
for the first time, he finally understood all the sentiments his friends in relationships would say — this feeling was so different from the regular hook ups. the passion, the intimacy of it all. you were so dangerous to him and yet he was obsessed with the way you have him wrapped around your finger.
he loves the way your eyebrows furrowed in between pleasure and pain as he bottomed in, your walls finally hugging the size of his cock, sucking him in deeper and deeper. the way your lips fell into moans once he started thrusting in and out of you. your eyes shutting as he increased the pace, faster and deeper and always hitting that spot that got your head rolling back, toes curling. the way you gripped his back as he rubbed harsh circles around your clit, sending you to overdrive. the way your body went completely limp against the pillows, face in complete bliss as your walls tightened around him, sucking him in. his abs clenching in response, a guttural moan from his throat escaping, reaching a high he’s never felt before as he burrowed his face into your neck to control his shaking body.
you enjoyed the feeling of his skin against yours, reveling in your shared orgasms. staying that way for a minute or two, his body heavy against yours before he snuck in a gentle kiss to your lips.
you hiss as he pulled out, already feeling empty without him. he fucked you so good that all you wanted to do was slip into the peaceful darkness, sleep begging to take over.
the distant hum from the t.v. continues, playing the credits, as the rain pounded on the windows filling your ears. you feel the bed dip beside you as he moved around, feel the soft cloth against your pussy, wiping away your arousal, feel him take the spot next to you once again, shutting off the t.v and pulling you close to his chest.
“goodnight, angel,” he whispers, gently draping the blanket over your bodies, before placing a soft kiss on your temple and finally letting sleep consume you.
jaemin wakes up the next morning, your figure right next to him. it was strange, waking up to a person but he liked it — liked that it was you.
the sunrise peeks through the curtains as the memory from last night vividly replays in his head. he softly pushes away the layers of hair that have covered your face, taking in your angelic appearance as your chest rises and fall to a steady rhythm, sleep still hugging you.
he starts tracing the outline of your cheekbones, fingers softly grazing the curve of your nose, down to your lips. he takes in every detail, taking a mental screenshot.
your eyes flutter open at his light touches, “take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease which you figured was the wrong thing to say to a photographer as soon as the words lef your mouth, jaemin wasting no time to reach for his phone and snapping a shot.
“oh my god! i was kidding, i look like a mess,” you scream playfully, bringing the blanket over your head and covering your face in embarrassment, earning a laugh from the boy beside you.
he tugs the blanket off of your face, “you look even more beautiful in the morning, angel,” he compliments, making you blush.
the rest of the morning was spent well — shared selfies, slow kisses, lazy sex, touches lingering all over your skin, an innocent shower with millions of stolen kisses, laughter and more stories.
everything truly felt like a dream, like you were sitting on a cloud occupied by only two. hands never leaving the other’s as jaemin drove back to seoul, the car ride filled with sweet nothings.
𓏲𝄢
jaemin was worried sick. it’s been two days and you haven’t reached out to him. his texts being left on delivered. fear was starting to creep up on him in the form of doubts and mistrust. he thought maybe you were exactly like the rest and you did only want him for sex and now that it’s done, you were also gone and he was nothing but a fool being hit by his own karma.
he realizes now that he’s too deep into this, that it’s too late now to take it all back. too late now to make sure you can’t hurt him. he’s never given anyone this much control over him and he was absolutely losing it.
his phone dings and he scrambles to pick it up, hoping that this time it was you on the other end. his prayers being answered when your name pops up, letting out a sigh of relief.
my angel: jaemin i’m sorry…
his heart races in his chest, not entirely sure what you were apologizing about. he watches as the three dots appear on the screen, an indication that you were still typing.
my angel: i’m sick :(
my angel: i think the rain finally caught up with me
he reads the message, feeling absolutely awful and guilty that his mind could even taint your image like that. that he could even let doubts fill his head.
all he wanted to do now was take care of you.
on the other side, you were really regretting staying out in the rain for so long as you sat in your bed rotting, body burning up, head hurting, nose red, throat dry. it’s been two days since you last saw jaemin and you missed him…a lot. but you didn’t want him to catch your virus so now you’re here, hanging on by a thread as he spammed your inbox with messages filled with tips on how to get over a cold quickly.
the next morning, after asking around, jaemin finds himself knocking on your dorm room’s door, a bag containing hot soup and medicine in hand.
he couldn’t stand the thought of doing nothing so here he is, ready to be your nurse for the day and cure you back to health.
the door swings wide open only to reveal a familiar face, “jaemin?,” the girl with long black hair asks, head turned like a curious puppy.
“uhmm,” he mutters, quickly racking his brain for information, searching for a name he definitely knew. he remembers her face, remembers the fact that they shared a night together but he can’t quite pinpoint who she is exactly.
for a second, he thinks he’s in the wrong room, until her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, “are you looking for y/n?,” she asks.
he nods in response as she gestured to the door across the room, “she’s in there,” she said before stepping aside, letting him in and quietly shutting the door behind him as she hurries into her own room.
jaemin stands there, bewildered, if she was your roommate, who he’s sure he definitely knew, then surely you must have known who he was when the two of you first met. surely, you’d heard about his reputation. so why did you say you didn’t know him?
the sound of a cough coming from behind your door snaps him back into place. when doubt clouded his mind yesterday, he turned out to be terribly wrong. pushing the confusion aside, he steadies himself and gently knocks on your door.
“giselle, don’t come in, i’ll get you sick,” you respond, the raspiness of your voice evident.
your roommates name echoes in his ear as he finally unlocked the memory of who she was – the girl who told him she loved him. the girl he said the words back to…on accident.
he quickly pushes the memory away, turning the door knob as he finally makes his way inside your room, eyes scanning the space. he notices the various trinkets scattered on shelves, paintings and posters adorning the walls, books stacked in neat chaos, brushes cluttered on your desk.
“jaemin?,” you manage to croak out, eye squinting at the bright light coming from the living room. you’ve been pent up in the dark for too long, the only light coming from the small lamp on your desk. your hair sticks up in every direction and you had absolutely no color on your face. you look like a total mess. but somehow, seeing you like that only makes his heart skip a beat.
god, he was down bad.
“hey angel, i brought you some chicken noodle soup, it’ll help you feel better,” he says softly, completely forgetting the thought of giselle as he sat on the edge of your bed, taking out the bowl he had prepared.
“jaemin, i’m gonna get you sick,” you pout, hiding under the covers to try and contain your virus, earning a soft chuckle from the boy, “angel, i’m pretty sure you’ve already contaminated the air in this room,” he points out, playfully poking your side until you came out from underneath.
“you don’t even have a humidifier,” he teases, reaching over to smooth down your messy hair before bringing the spoon filled with the hot soup to your lips. you let out a resigned sigh, rolling your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you give in.
he spends the rest of the evening taking care of you, checking your temperature, making sure you take the proper medicine. his quiet care speaking louder than any words could.
carefully, he tucks you both in, ignoring your sleepy protests about him catching your cold as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, your head resting against his chest. it's warm, safe, and comfortable. so comforting that the next minute, sleep takes you, carried off by the side effects of the medicine and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
𓏲𝄢
the sound of clutter jolts you back to reality, waking you up from your slumber. blinking slowly, you spot jaemin’s figure hunched over, quietly gathering the things he must have knocked over, “you okay?,” you groggily question, rubbing the sleep away.
“sorry angel, i accidentally bumped into your desk, i’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he says softly, already rearranging your things back into place.
but then you see it – a little too late. your stomach drops, everything inside you stills. instantly you knew your world was about to crumble down, “wait, jaemin–” you call out, urgency creeping into your voice, but he was focused on the task at hand.
jaemin picks up the fallen journal, a photo slipping out from between the pages.
it takes him a second to process that the person in the photo was his own reflection but once he did, everything shifts – there he is, staring back at himself, the mr. cupid sign right behind him.
a wave of realization crashes over him, bringing all his doubts to the surface, “why do you have this?,” he demands, turning around to face you, the photo gripped tightly in his hand.
the guilty expression on your face was enough to shatter any remaining illusions – he knows he’s been playing the fool. he should’ve known that this was too good to be true.
in a flash, jaemin flips through your journal, looking for answers, “jaemin, don’t!,” you get up, ignoring the way your vision momentarily blurs, threatening to pull you under. but you were too late. jaemin has stumbled across your four step plan.
“the downfall of na jaemin. step one - introduce yourself. step two - make him fall in love with you. step three and four - break his heart and reveal to the whole world that their beloved mr. cupid is a phony,” jaemin reads out loud, his entire figure rigid as he connects all of the clues, his mind replaying every memory like it was some sort of cruel punishment crafted just for him.
“you didn’t think i’d actually tell mr. cupid my real name did you? it would be so embarrassing for me,”
dear mr. cupid, i'm going to my first party ever! how can i make sure i catch the attention of the person i like? love, heart / “not much of a party goer are you?,” earning a soft nod from you, “it’s my first party” you confess.
the way you walked out that saturday morning he brought you his hangover cure, ditching the pink outfits because you knew he wasn’t going to be around.
renjun voicing out his suspicious concerns and telling him to be careful.
the door opening to giselle, a girl he had sex with at a random party. the same girl that was standing just outside your bedroom door – your roommate.
every single moment, every confession, every word that he believed to be true led to this – your four step plan, cold and calculated, had no other intention but to hurt him.
every ounce of trust he’d placed in you, every bit of affection, it was all nothing but a step forward.
every time he was being honest, you only showed him what he wanted to see.
he didn’t know the person in front of him. all he knows now is that this is all a lie.
“jaemin, please let me explain,” you plead, voice shaking as you fight back the tears that were daring to escape, taking a cautious step towards him, unsure if he’ll let you get any closer.
he meets your gaze, pain and betrayal flashing all over his features – raw, gutting, all-consuming and gone in a second.
his face goes stone cold, “there’s nothing to explain,” he says, each word cutting clean, final.
“have fun with step four, y/n,” he mutters, voice deep with frustration before tossing your journal and the now crumpled photo to the ground. without another word, he storms out of your room, angrily slamming the door behind him, your heart dropping.
you rush after him, voice breaking as you cry out, “jaemin, please,” you grab his hand, desperation flooding your every movement, holding on tight, trying to make him stay, “it’s not what it looks like, please,” at this point you don’t stop the tears from flowing. you don’t care anymore. you just can’t let him walk out the door.
the loud ruckus catches your best friend’s attention. giselle quick to join you in the living room, eyes wide with concern, “what happened? is everyone okay?,” she asks, frantically looking between your broken expression and jaemin’s seething anger.
her presence was enough to pull your focus away, jaemin taking the opportunity to yank his hand out of your grip and finally making his way out.
you tried to follow him out but before you could take another step, your body finally gave up on you and you came crashing down the living room floor.
jaemin hears the sickening thud of your fall and giselle’s frantic shout of your name. for a brief moment, he hesitates, just long enough to almost turn back and check if you’re okay…but he doesn't.
blinded by rage, jaemin stormed into the fraternity house and without a second thought, his fist crashed through the living room wall, no longer able to contain his anger. he was seeing red.
“dude! what the fuck?!,” chenle yells, everyone turning their heads in surprise. but what shocked them the most was the next scene — watching their friend drop to the floor, quiet sobs escaping his lips as he burrowed his face into his hands.
jeno was up in no time, making his way over, “what happened?,” he asks, checking his friend for any injuries.
“you were right, renjun,” jaemin choked out between his broken sobs, feeling absolutely defeated.
the room fell silent as everyone turned to face renjun, wanting for an explanation, “y/n, isn’t who she says she is,” jaemin muttered, wiping tears that refused to stop. he felt pathetic — so this is what heartbreak felt like.
he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even on his worst enemies.
“who’s y/n?,” renjun looks around, confused, earning a light punch from donghyuck, “angel, dude,” he whispers under his breath like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
renjun pieced it all together in an instant. he knew you looked familiar, he just didn’t know you were that familiar, that you were the same girl who sat behind him in art class — you disguised yourself so well, you fooled even him.
he watched his broken friend on the ground, jaemin’s figure slumped against the wall he’d struck moments earlier, lips trembling, tear-streaked face buried in his hands.
𓏲𝄢
“renjun, please just let me talk to him,” you ask for the umpteenth time. it’s been three days since your fight with jaemin and in those three days, his friends have done everything in their power to keep you away, rightfully so.
when you showed up to the fraternity house, ready to explain your side and apologize, haechan immediately shut you down, slamming the door in your face.
when you saw him in the university’s cafeteria the next day, jeno was right next to him in an instant, pulling him away before he could even see you.
every single message you sent him was left on delivered, every call going straight to voicemail. you were desperate to reach him and renjun was your only access. he couldn’t exactly ditch class to avoid you.
renjun rolls his eyes, scoffing, “again, the answer is no, angel,” he says sarcastically, the nickname dripping with venom, his tone laced with disgust.
you wince, desperation creeping into your voice, “i just need to explain and i promise i won’t ever show my face again.” your eyes are full of conviction, pleading for a chance to right your wrongs.
he sighs. truth is, him and the boys have no idea why jaemin was so upset, only telling them that you lied to him about who you truly were but what does that even mean?
after mulling it over he finally says, “his showcase is on friday at the university’s gallery, 3 p.m., he has to be there for his project which i’m sure you know all about,” he pauses, “you can talk to him there if he wants to but all the boys are gonna be there too,” he warns.
renjun and the boys practically hated your guts but they also know how important you’ve become to their friend, otherwise he wouldn’t be sat at home, moping around, watching rom-coms as a form of self destruction, muttering “love is a lie,” every time the two characters get together in the end.
“thank you,” you nod in understanding, your gratitude mixed with a quiet tension.
“let’s get something straight y/n,” he says, his tone hardening as he starts to walk away, “i’m not doing this for you.”
with that, he leaves you standing at your station, the weight of his words sinking in.
𓏲𝄢
the university's art gallery buzzed with life, lined wall-to-wall with projects from various photography majors. you hadn’t expected such a crowd, the room filled with chatter and laughter as the bright lights illuminated the spacious room.
you take your time, making your way around, palms clammy and heart pounding as you move through the room, quietly practicing the speech you've prepared for days. gone were the sparkly pink outfits and the persona that came with it. replaced by just jeans and a plain t-shirt. you continued weaving through the art gallery, the panels shifting from artist to artist, until you finally reached his.
jaemin’s name stood boldly against the wall, his project titled, “stupid cupid.”
your breath caught as your eyes dropped to the description beneath it:
“love in the movies feels effortless and looks beautiful but all those picture-perfect moments turn out to be nothing more than echoes of a love that was never real to begin with.”
the word’s, achingly beautiful in their bitterness, struck like an arrow piercing your heart. you scanned the pictures on the wall, trying to contain your emotions.
each image held a memory, fragile and glowing – the moment in the cafe, the boombox in your hand, the kiss in the rain, now looping endlessly in video, truly playing like a haunting echo of what once was.
you stood frozen, emotions tightening in your throat, eyes brimming with tears as you wanted nothing more than to step into that scene and live in the moment just a little longer.
you wipe the tears from your cheeks, steadying yourself. you had an apology due, you couldn’t let another day pass without telling him everything you wanted to say. this was possibly your only moment and you weren’t going to let it slip away.
your eyes searched the crowded room, until they landed on him.
jaemin stands a little further back, deep in conversation. you recognize mark and jeno right next to him along with some girls from campus who were obviously flirting with him, one of the girls laughing a little too loudly and you almost scoff.
taking a deep breath, you force your feet to move, making your way through the crowd, heart pounding.
mark notices you first, eyes widening for a split second as he immediately grabs jaemin’s wrist, steering him further away from you, “hey winter! have you met my friend, jaemin?,” mark calls out, his voice ringing loud and clear, every word sharp and intentional.
jaemin looks at him suspiciously before greeting the new girl in front of him. you catch the subtle glance of the previous girls lingering behind, clearly disappointed that he walked away.
you cursed under your breath, frustration mounting, they really won’t make this easy for you.
“what are you doing here?,” a voice to your right captures your attention.
“donghyuck!,” you quietly exclaim in surprise, a hand to your heart.
“haechan,” he corrects immediately, “so what’s the angel in disguise doing here?” he laughs like he just said the funniest joke, “god that’s a good one, gotta tell the boys about that,” he snickers to himself, completely lost in his own amusement.
every conversation with him felt like some weird episode you didn’t sign up for. you still couldn't figure out how he managed to charm everyone. his mocking tone was grating, but deep down, you knew you’d earned it.
“i’m just here to apologize,” you sigh, too tired for an argument.
“huh, you’d think you’d get the hint after all the text messages and calls jaemin ignored,” he says, voice dripping with malicious amusement, “don’t flatter yourself too much, y/n, you’re not special, this is just what he does, you were just another girl who fell for it,” he taunts, his words sharp like a dagger before he walked away, leaving you in your thoughts.
they’ve been trying to stop you from reaching him and you’ve had enough. all you wanted was to have a chance to fix things. so you abandoned the careful apology you’d been rehearsing and did the one thing you hadn’t planned.
you called out his name.
your voice rang out, echoing through the large room as the chatter slowly diminished. one by one, every head turned in your direction, but you only saw him.
jaemin's eyes locked with yours and for a split second, something softened in his eyes. then, just as quickly, the wall was back up and that cold, unreadable mask slipped right back into place.
you ignore the hush whispers around you, even the one that cut through clear as day, “wait…she’s the girl from his photos..,” as you slowly walk towards him.
jaemin doesn’t utter a single sound, doesn’t make an effort to move away, he just watches as you approach, silent and unmoving, until you were standing just a few feet away.
“hi”, you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. you ignore haechan’s mocking chuckle, as he now stood next to jaemin.
“im sorry!,” you blurted out, not wasting another second. jaemin doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react, only looking at you like you’re a stranger.
“alright, you said it, you can go now, we’re a bit busy,” jeno cuts in, sharp and dismissive, a devilish smirk on his face as he spoke for his friend. the audience snickers in the background…but you weren’t finished.
“i’m sorry i lied to you,” you say a little more composed this time, standing your ground.
a shaky breath escapes you as the words you’ve been dying to tell him tumble out.
“i hate iced americanos, i hate the color pink and i definitely hated you…at first,” your voice cracks slightly, but you push through it, eyes locked on his.
you don’t care about the stares or the whispers or the way you knew this moment will be dissected by everyone watching – none of it matters, only him.
“and i know, i know everything must feel like a lie now. i wouldn’t blame you if you never believed another word i said,” you laugh bitterly, pushing away the ache in your chest.
“i only did it because i thought it was the right thing to do, i thought you deserved it for leading so many girls on…it’s stupid, i know,” your gaze softens, slightly shaking your head as your voice drops to a fragile murmur, regret and embarrassment written all over your face.
you look up at him once again, his expression still as hard as stone but it doesn’t stop you from saying your next words.
“—but i also know that i’m in love with you,” you quietly confess, the words rolling off your lips for the first time, hanging in the air – honest, bare, terrifying but all so right.
you notice the flicker of something behind his eyes that betrays the coldness in his expression. something almost soft. but it’s gone as soon as it came.
“i’m in love with you,” you repeat, hoping.
“and i'm sorry that we started out this way but this is me, the real me,” you continue, voice shaking as you ignore the lump forming in your throat.
“i prefer iced matcha over iced americanos, my favorite color is white and i have completely, stupidly fallen for you,” you finish your speech, letting the last words hang there, raw and unguarded. there’s nothing left to hide behind, no more reason to pretend.
this is your truth.
the room is silent – so silent that it felt suffocating. not a single person dared to speak, no one even moved, everyone holding their breaths with you, waiting for something…anything.
finally, jaemin takes a step forward, each step he took was slow, deliberate. his expression unreadable, eyes still cold, and you can’t tell if he’s angry, hurt or just tired of it all.
he stops in front of you, close enough that you can see the way his jaw clenches.
“well, angel,” he say, voice low and quiet but cutting all the same, the nickname sounds nothing like it used to – no warmth, no teasing. just ice.
“this was fun,” he snickers, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.
it wasn’t the smile in his photos – it wasn’t the smile you fell in love with.
“-but that was all it ever was,” he continues and you feel like someone has just punched you in the gut.
“thank you for letting me use you for my project,” he adds, his tone light, casual, like it’s just another throwaway line in a script he’s already performed before.
“but you, of all people, should know–,” he leans in just a little, voice dropping, and for a second his warmth consumes you until his words turn everything cold, “-i never fall in love.”
his friends start chuckling at the back, the crowd joining in. other’s looked at you with pity having fallen for the boy in front of you but you didn't pay attention to them. you don’t even look at them. you’re still staring at him and you don’t buy a single word.
not with the way his hands are clenched at his sides. not with how his voice trembled, just barely, when he said never.
he’s lying. protecting himself the only way he knows how – by pretending not to care. trying to convince himself more than you but even knowing that doesn’t dull the sting. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, blurring the sharp lines of his face as you blink them back, forcing yourself to stay composed.
you nod once. small. almost imperceptible. a silent acknowledgment. not of belief but of acceptance.
then, carefully, you pull out the white envelope tucked in your back pocket, “this belongs to you,” you say, voice soft, barely hanging on. you hold it out to him and then you turn.
you don’t look back, running out of the gallery – out of the stares, out of the suffocating stillness that had begun to close in on you.
your vision blurs completely now, hot tears streaming freely down your face. you can’t breathe. you’re not sure if you even want to.
jaemin watches you retreat. he doesn’t call out, doesn't make an effort to stop you. he just watches.
only when you were finally out of his sight, he felt it – that sharp swell in his lungs, the ache in his chest unraveling into something hollow and brutal.
he thought it would feel satisfying to hurt you the way you hurt him. he thought having the last word would fix the damages of his broken ego and piece back the heart you shattered. but as you left he realized that parts of it were still in your hands.
the crowd begins to break apart, quiet murmurs replacing the earlier hush. now that the show’s over, their entertainment has ended and one by one, they leave, continuing on with their day, until he’s standing there alone, the envelope in his hands.
he opens it slowly, like he’s afraid of what’s inside, even though some part of him already knows.
and there it is. the photo. the one you stole from his room. the one in your four step plan. his secret.
for a split second, all he can feel is the surge of anger and betrayal, remembering everything that has happened in the past two weeks. his heart pounds in his chest, a sharp sting of violation threatening to overwhelm him.
but then, something shifts.
he looks at the photo again and it hits him – you’re giving it back to him. you’re not using it. you’re not following through with your plan to expose him. you had returned the evidence with no strings attached. you were telling him the truth.
the confessions you made, your voice trembling with sincerity, resonating in his mind.
renjun snaps him back to reality, the rest of the boys next to him, “hey, you okay?” he asks his friend, tone sharp with concern.
he forces a half-hearted laugh, voice laced with self-deprecation. “i feel like absolute shit,” he quickly tucks the envelope in his pocket, hiding it away from prying eyes, mind still reeling.
“well, i know just the cure for that,” haechan teases, slinging an arm around his neck. “a pretty girl and some drinks,” he continues, his voice is playful, trying to pull jaemin back to the surface and he’s grateful for the distraction.
“yeah, come on,” mark chimes in, grinning. “we gotta celebrate your gallery’s success!...party at the dream fraternity tonight!” he calls out, his enthusiasm infectious as cheers erupt from the crowd, a wave of excitement sweeping through the room.
jaemin feels disconnected from it all, but he can’t ignore the energy around him. he shakes his head, finally allowing himself to breathe. maybe they’re right. maybe a party is exactly what he needs. maybe he can continue to pretend that this doesn’t hurt him until it finally doesn’t.
𓏲𝄢
jaemin can’t get it up.
“i thought you were supposed to be good at this?,” the pretty girl from the gallery comments, making him sigh in frustration.
“just give me a second,” he grunts, furiously pumping his cock up and down, hoping a miracle would happen. this has never happened to him before and he’s beginning to get really worried.
“you said that five seconds ago,” she cuts in, looking at him with those judgmental eyes, like he doesn’t fucking know he said that five seconds ago. the urge to run to the doctor’s getting stronger with every second.
“you know what? just get out,” jaemin says annoyed, tossing her clothes back to her as he made his way to his bathroom, not caring at all about the girl sitting on his bed. he hears the girl scoff, followed by shuffling and a, “thanks for absolutely nothing!,” before his door slammed shut.
jaemin rolls his eyes, hopping in the shower, the lingering touches she left behind felt sticky and gross on his skin. he knew she wasn’t going to tell anyone, knowing her reputation was also on the line and he didn’t even feel bad. the girl should’ve known he wasn’t in the right mind for some ego boosting. or maybe she should’ve tried harder for him.
yikes. maybe he did deserve the heartbreak you served him with.
as he stood there, under the hot shower, his intoxicated mind can’t help but wander back to you and the time you’ve spent together.
he can’t help but remember that morning of your first night together, the innocent shower you took together as he admired your body – thoughts of your scent consuming him, the way your lips left trails of kisses, soft skin against his.
then he feels it, his cock hardening.
all it took was the memory of you, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he scolds his dick.
“really?, a pretty girl on your bed and absolutely nothing from you and just one thought of her and you’re up,” he talks to his member, feeling absolutely crazy before his hand got to work – mind flashing with scenes of you and only you.
hopping out of the shower, jaemin feels a little more refreshed, his mind clearer than it was a few shots of alcohol ago. the party outside his bedroom door has now died down.
he picks his clothes up from the ground, ready to toss it into his hamper, when the envelope peaks out, reminding him of the picture.
he takes it out again, staring into his own image, the slight crumple on the top left marks the photograph, evidence of his anger. he sighs as sadness takes over once again.
flipping the image, he sees your handwriting, words that you have left behind just for him. words that has signified the mark you left on his life.
dear jaemin,
thank you for showing me this side of you. im sorry.
love,
y/n, angel, heart
it was your last confession and right away he knew what he had to do.
𓏲𝄢
“hi my lovely listeners, it’s mr. cupid here on a surprise live session, i couldn’t prolong this any longer,” jaemin’s voice filters through the mic, softer than usual.
he pauses, a shaky breath pulled in as he braces himself for the inevitable, “i haven’t been completely honest with you.”
there’s a beat of silence and then, “i have been keeping a secret and lately i’ve realized how much secret’s hurt.”
“so today, im finally telling you who i am,” jaemin continues, fingers tightening slightly around the mic stand as he braced himself.
“i am mr. cupid, your #1 go to for all things love and heartbreak but i am also third year, photography major, member of the dream fraternity,” he takes a quick pause, finding his courage, “my name is na jaemin,” he finally confesses into the microphone.
the words land like a stone thrown into still water, rippling through the space between him and the hundreds of people listening.
his inbox immediately lights up, emails flooding in. he could already see the previews. lots of surprised listeners, lots of angry listeners.
his phone quietly flickers by his side, messages from the boys swarming his screen as the group chat blows up — all of them shocked and confused.
he would have to deal with all of that later.
“i want to take this moment and apologize,” he continued, voice soft but firm, “to every girl i’ve hurt, every person i made feel disposable…i’m sorry. i wish i could remember all your names but the truth is, part of me was that player, part of me liked being that player,” he sighs in embarrassment, the weight of it all sinking in.
“—and i’m sorry for hiding behind this persona, for pretending i had it all figured out while calling out the very things i also did,” he continues, a bittersweet feeling rising in his chest.
he took care of this radio show, he wouldn’t have climbed the #1 spot if he didn’t. but every truth must be revealed someday.
“—i need you to know, i meant every word i’ve ever said on here. the advice, the stories, the moments where i told you to believe in love even when it hurts…that was all real. i was just too much of a coward in real life to admit that i wanted that too,” he continues, feeling lighter with every word.
“there’s a girl i met recently,” a nervous chuckle slips from his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, gaze unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond the studio walls.
“she knew who i was, from the very beginning” he rambles, “she had this four step plan to make me fall in love with her…the last step of her plan was to expose me but she never followed through with it,” a quiet moment passes.
“somewhere along the way, she fell for me anyway…the player, the romantic, the scared, complicated mess,” he shakes his head, a halfhearted smile tugging at his lips.
“i always thought that i had to be one or the other, turns out i was just waiting for her to freely be who i truly am,” a heavy sigh leaves him, full of everything he’s carried alone until now. his thoughts catching up to him.
“—and i really need to follow my own advice and get her back,” the words left him in a rush as he finally reached his own conclusion.
love was a strong word and unfortunately it took him a while to accept that this is what it was and it was all he wanted.
without another word, he abruptly ends the session. running out of the studio, finally seeing things clearly.
he runs, lungs burning, heart pounding. he ignores the students who were still outside this late hour, calling out his name, calling out mr. cupid, until he finally reaches your building, sweat forming around his forehead, as he tries to catch his breath.
he knocks on your door, practically pounding on it, adrenaline rushing through his veins, nerves and excitement coursing through him at the thought of seeing you again only to be met with none other than your roommate.
“oh, if it isn’t mr. cupid,” giselle greets him, voice laced with mockery, her expression twisted with subtle disdain.
“you know i was wondering why y/n was so adamant on getting revenge, i thought it was just because of what you did to me, turns out you’re not just a huge player you’re also a pro liar,” giselle continues, a pointed look on her faced, eyebrows furrows, lips pointed.
“pretending to be mr. sweet angelic guy just to be a fuckboy behind the scenes, man, how did you fool everyone?” she chuckles, almost disbelievingly.
jaemin shifts uncomfortably, his confidence briefly faltering, “giselle, im sorry,” he says, catching the girl off guard, “i do remember our night together and i’m sorry…i shouldn’t have said those words so lightly, i wasn’t thinking, just putting my needs first,” he confesses, completely owning up to his actions.
she blinks, then lets out a small, surprised laugh, “it’s fine, i just wanted to give you a tough time for what you did to y/n at the gallery,” she says, “besides, i used you that night too, we both win,” she shrugs, really not caring, “i would actually prefer it if we never talk about it again.”
jaemin nods, a quiet gratitude in his eyes for her unexpected grace, “is y/n here?,” he asks.
giselle ponders for a second or two, studying him, eyes narrowing slightly, reading him like a book until she nods, “second floor of the art building,” she says.
“thank you,” he breathes, already turning, “wait jaemin!,” giselle stops him in his tracks, “you hurt her again and i will kill you, okay pretty boy?,” she says with a sugar-sweet smile, almost like she didn’t just threaten him. it wasn’t a question, not really.
he chuckles, not entirely sure if she’s joking or not, either way, he would not like to find it.
“wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, flashing her a smile before sprinting off.
𓏲𝄢
jaemin stepped quietly into the art room, spotting your back to him as your fingers worked like magic, brushing smoothly against the canvas seated on your easel, completely immersed in your work. he notices the iced matcha sitting on the table to your right, your paint-stained jeans and oversized t-shirt on display, hair in a messy ponytail.
even with your back turned to him, you looked so at ease, like the world had melted away and left only you and your art behind. he stood still, taking it in, wishing he had his camera with him.
content hums slip past your lips as your hand glided from your palette and the canvas. then he notices what you’re painting and he can’t look away, transfixed by the way you captured the scenery of the luscious green landscape blurred by the gentle rain, the pink and whites of the blooming cherry blossoms, opposite to the gray hues of the clouds floating on top.
it was like he had stepped into that day once again. almost like he could feel your lips on his again.
he clears his throat before finally finding his voice, “that’s beautiful.”
your head turns quickly, jumping slightly at the sound of your intruder’s voice, eyes wide with surprise. you weren’t exactly expecting anyone else to be here this late.
“jaemin?,” you question, voice uncertain, wondering what he was doing here at this hour.
“hi,” he smiles sheepishly, hands awkwardly tucked in his pockets, almost shy, as he walks closer to you, your breath stuck in your throat.
“you uhm…you have paint right here,” he points at his own cheek, mirroring the spot on yours as you quickly tried to wipe it away, missing completely.
“not quite, here let me-,” before you could protest, he closed the gap, licking his thumb and wiping the smudge away from the apple of your cheek. the moment was so intimate, his light touch igniting that spark all over again.
“thanks,” you whisper before taking a step back and trying to ground yourself.
“what are you doing here?,” you asked, voice soft.
“i was looking for you,” he responds like it was the simplest truth in the world.
“i-i thought you didn’t want to see me again?,” you say, brows furrowed in confusion.
“i thought that too,” he admits, “but as soon as you left, all i wanted to do was see you again,” he continues, looking for any signs of rejection on your face.
“how did you know i was here?,” you ask, puzzled, you never brought him here before so you wouldn’t expect him to even know it.
“i asked giselle,” he replies simply, leaving you confused, your brows knitting, “you talked to giselle?”
he chuckles slightly before saying, “i actually stopped by your place first and you weren’t there and then i got an earful from giselle about being mr. cupid and now i'm here,” giving you a quick rundown of what happened.
“wait, what? i never told her your secret,” you say, wide eyed. that’s when he realizes then that you had no idea what happened in the last hour.
“i uh…i actually finished your four step plan,” he explains and you’re left speechless, “you didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, voice soft.
“no, i did,” he quickly retorts, “it was time,” a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
“he wasn’t all a fake persona, you know?,” he exhales, voice laced with honesty.
“i know,” you say quickly, eyes meeting his. “i saw him,” voice filled with sincerity, “fell in love with him,” you whisper into the night air, making him look up, hope flickering behind his eyes.
“i thought i had to hide that side of me,” he admits, “i’ve been very aware of the whole fuckboy label and yeah…i got caught up in the ‘cool’ image of it all. it was easier to be who everyone expected me to be, it’s stupid, i know,” he smiles softly, his words reflecting your confession.
“but that’s not why i came here tonight,” his eyes find yours, unwavering.
“i'm sorry about what i said earlier at the gallery,” he adds softly and you shake your head before he can go on, “it’s okay jaemin, i get it, i know why said it, it’s not like i didn’t deserve it,” you reassure him.
“no,” he says, a little firmer this time, “it’s not okay because it wasn’t true and i'm tired of all the lies between us so…here it goes,” he takes a breath, almost like he’s steadying himself.
“you’re not the only one who fell,” he says, a quiet smile forming, tender and nervous,“i did too.”
“—and i’m pretty sure i hit the ground way before you did,” he pauses.
you looked at him like he had somehow brought the stars to you and that was all the courage he needed to continue.
“i think white looks perfect with pink, i’m not a big fan of matcha iced tea but i’d still love to see my glass of americano sitting next to yours, and i am completely, stupidly, undeniably in love with you,” he confesses, voice steady and full of conviction, “that’s what i should’ve said earlier.”
you blink, heart pounding, the corners of your lips lifting into a smile you can’t fight, every emotion rushing to the surface.
“better late than never, right?,” you softly tease, making him chuckle before finally taking a step closer. this time, you don’t move away.
“you told me i didn’t have to ask,” he whispers and then he kisses you, soft and certain, and full of emotion.
for the first time since he walked out of your bedroom, angry and overwhelmed, jaemin feels like he could finally breathe again.
his hands gently make their way to your cheeks, deepening the kiss as yours clasped around his neck, pulling him in closer.
“god, i love you,” jaemin whispers against your lips as he moves down to litter kisses on that spot below your ear, eliciting a breathy whine from you.
“i love you too,” you whisper in his ear, large hands making their way behind your thighs as jaemin picks you up, sitting you on the long wooden table, now eye to eye level, his lips were back on yours in an instant, as he stood in the place between your legs.
you could feel his growing bulge against your thigh, making you dizzy, “jaemin, i need you,” you whine desperately. he gives in to your request quickly, no longer wanting to deny the pleasure coursing in between your bodies.
unzipping your pants, he slides it down, before pushing your panties to the side and shoving two fingers in, “so fucking tight, angel,” he groans as his fingers curl drawing out breathy moans from your lips as you tried to be as quiet as possible, afraid someone would walk in. usually no one was here during this time but you could never be too sure, you were still in a public place after all.
you could feel the tension in your stomach rise, heat starting to travel down to your toes, but you needed more, “please, n-need you now,” you plead, “you sure angel? it might hurt,” he grunts, his fingers brushing your walls repetitively, trying to prepare you as much as he can.
no longer able to wait, your hand reached for the wallet in his back pocket as you took out the condom you knew he always carried.
jaemin’s pants falls to the ground, pooling around his ankles, his boxers soon to follow as you wrapped the condom around his throbbing cock, the warmth of your hands making him groan into your shoulder as he tried to control the urge to bust right then and there, “have i told you how much effect you have on me?,” he grunts.
“show me,” you whisper, kissing that soft spot below his ear.
“you make me so fucking crazy,” he says, looking you in the eyes as he pushed his tip in your entrance. you bite back your moans, the expression on your face between pleasure and pain as you looked up at him, trying your best not to shut your eyes at the way he was slowly expanding your walls, pussy molding to the shape of his large cock.
“fucckk, you feel so fucking good,” he compliments as he bottoms in, tip kissing your cervix, your shared moans mixing in the air as you burrowed your head in his shoulder, leaving trails of wet, sloppy kisses, trying to distract yourself from the pain of the stretch.
“missed your pussy so much,” he whines. carefully, he pulls the hair tie out of your ponytail, letting your hair fall freely down your shoulders as he starts thrusting, setting a slow pace. you were so incredibly tight around him, he knew he had to be gentle, “so fucking pretty,” he whispers, watching your every reaction.
“d-don’t stop,” you sigh, getting used to his size, as he continues to thrust in and out, the slow pace becoming more addicting with every push. jaemin’s warm hands gripping your hips, massaging slow circles around your thighs, the added pressure adding on to the coil tightening in your stomach as your body arched up, hips starting to move in rhythm with his.
“faster, jaemin,” you moan. his name spilling from your lips immediately increases his speed as your hands rest on the table, trying to stabilize yourself. moans heighten as the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. you don’t even care about wandering ears anymore, or what would happen if a professor happened to catch the two of you in this position.
all you cared about was this high — the way his cock seemed to be made for you, hitting that spot that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud as angels sang all around you. jaemin feels the same way, absolutely lost in the feeling only you could give him.
it was getting harder to keep it together as he starts losing his rhythm, “i’m c-close, angel,” he grunts, finger finding your sensitive bud, rubbing slow but harsh circles, “cum with me, please,” he groans and it was enough to snap the coil in your stomach, eyes rolling back, pussy gripping his cock as you gave into the pleasure that is na jaemin.
𓏲𝄢
it’s been a week since that night that brought you back together. a week filled with “i love you’s,” and everything sickeningly sweet.
the boys have all apologized to you, spilling repetitive sorry’s about their behavior. forgiveness came easy. especially since you knew they were only like that because of how much they loved him and you were happy jaemin had people like them on his side.
mr. cupid became “love, na jaemin” — jaemin decided to continue it after emails upon emails of request from his viewers to come back. this time, he promised complete honesty, no longer hiding behind the fake persona. the show was back to #1 spot within a day, everyone loving this side of him even more.
there were still parties, almost every night, but instead of sneaking around with random women, jaemin had you by his side every single time — hand wrapped in yours, playful stolen kisses all over your skin, dancing and laughter. and in the days where you couldn’t go to a party, he’d simply have fun with the boys before retiring into his room alone, preferring to facetime you on the phone.
today, jaemin surprised you with a picnic. the sky was painted with soft blues and golden sun, a warm breeze curling through your hair as you sat on the picnic blanket in the park. he pulls out a bag filled with two mini canvases and a small set of watercolor.
“what’s all this?,” you giggle, as he hands you your canvas.
“i saw it on tiktok, we have to paint each other and then show each other the results,” he explains excitedly, a sparkle dancing in his eyes, like a kid getting a new toy.
“winner gets whatever they want!,” he continues, explaining the rules as you laughed, “you know i’m gonna win, right?,” you tease, raising a brow.
“hey! you’ve never seen me paint, you don’t know that,” he cutely defends himself, a pout on his lips.
“okay baby, you’re right, sorry,” you giggle, kissing his pout away, frown instantly melting into a bright smile.
“quit distracting me, angel” he said softly, grinning as he picked up his brush.
the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you start, eyes flicking between your painting and each other. the air was filled with quiet focus and unspoken affection. you could feel it in the way his gaze lingered on you, the way your fingers moved slowly, like trying to capture every piece of him with love.
but while you were focused on painting him, jaemin had a different mission entirely.
he knew you were going to win, of course you were. this was just his little ploy to finally make you his girlfriend. a week has been long enough and he was starting to go crazy every time he wanted to call you his girlfriend but couldn’t. he’s never wanted to the boyfriend title so badly in his life.
he kicked himself over and over, wondering why he didn’t just ask you during his confession but that night was powered through by overwhelming emotions of love, hope and desire that the words had slipped his mind.
since then, nothing had felt romantic enough and you deserve to be asked properly…in the most special way. and he has finally figured out how.
after a couple more minutes of painting you break the silence, “i think im done,” you announce, setting your brush down with a satisfied smile.
he glances up at you, pretending to be busy as he continues to paint the background of his artwork, “hmm, give me one more second,” he chimes before adding his final touch.
“okay, you ready?,” he wiggles his eyebrows as you nod, your heart fluttering.
3…2…1…
you both flip your canvases, showing each other your board. your eyes immediately widen as you process the words written on his board in bold, messy paint: will you be my girlfriend? — decorated by a ton of pink and red hearts.
a happy squeal escapes your lips as you launch yourself at him, sending him back onto the picnic blanket. you pepper his face with soft kisses, laughter bubbling from both of you.
“yes, yes, yes, of course i’ll be your girlfriend!” you say happily, dreamily. he was laughing too, arms wrapped around you, holding you close like he never wanted to let go.
“by the way, i want to go to busan again,” you smile up at him, letting him know that you still win. he breaks into a soft laughter, “whatever my angel wants, my angel gets,” he says, kissing you softly, sweetly and full of promise.
jaemin swears he’s in heaven — laying under the open sky with the girl of his dreams, the girl who he loves and loves him, and the word finally echoing in his heart.
𓏲 the end.
—
an: ahhh! if you’ve made it this far thank you so so much for reading <3 i wish you all find yourself a na jaemin (the real na jaemin of course, he’s better than the one written here lol >.<) while i have you! please please please help me decide who’s story to write next by voting here -> click!
likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated ⏦゚♡︎
PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)
GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting, edging, squirting, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)
PLAYLIST: here.
SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.
WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).
A/N: hihi, angels! i'm finally back with a jeno fic aaa thank you my girls @jaeminvore @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo for giving me ideas and listening to me losing my shit over this fic <333 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33
Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine.
Comparison.
The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing.
That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to.
It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family.
The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye.
Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with.
The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar.
Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed.
It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was.
That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that.
Others didn’t bother doing the same for him.
Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football.
Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return.
Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma.
“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.”
Fuck.
Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place.
“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin.
“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled.
Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man.
“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone.
Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes.
He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back.
He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day.
The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month.
“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before.
Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes.
With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before.
He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same.
You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”
His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised.
“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level.
You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.”
“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?”
“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.”
“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes.
“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you.
“You—”
Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe.
Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions.
“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time.
You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way.
“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands.
Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”
“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld.
It was ridiculous.
It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that.
He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background.
He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother.
With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother.
It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day.
And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met.
Jealousy was indeed a bitch.
Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt.
Two days passed by and Jeno’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study.
It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better.
Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place.
Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone.
Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?
Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.
You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a black tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles.
“Why are you here?” Jeno asked with a bored tone.
“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look.
“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside.
“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts.
“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly.
That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place.
“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”
You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk.
Jeno groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it.
“What’s the catch?” Jeno asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat.
“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason.
“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere.
You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jeno was staring at your body.
He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.
You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jeno though.
“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Lee.”
“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all.
“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision.
Overconfidence. He sighed.
Jeno stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying.
Downside? He’d have to face you each day.
Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk.
“So, where are we gonna study?”
Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind.
Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jeno.
Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules.
Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human.
Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind.
It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jeno couldn’t stop doing.
Overthinking.
It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed.
It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.
That’s all what people in his life did anyway.
“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.
He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly.
“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely.
Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him.
He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”
You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added.
“Rightfully so.”
Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jeno’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see.
Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jeno’s mood turning fowl that very second.
“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/n. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so.
“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jeno’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm.
“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you.
“You done daydreaming?” Jeno asked, deadpanning once his brother had left.
“You done solving the question?” You retorted.
He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere.
It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you.
He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study.
“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly.
It should’ve been insulting to Jeno per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you.
He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session.
You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was.
Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being—
He looked beautiful with a smile.
Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips.
As much as Jeno loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.
Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jeno never understood why, it was no joke that Jeno was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further.
Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you.
Heck, even Jeno didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.
Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress.
“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jeno further.
He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked.
“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”
He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially.
He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear.
Na Jaemin. Another of Jeno’s football teammates.
“Why are you hiding from Jaemin,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you.
“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jeno smirked devilishly.
“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second.
You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled.
Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jeno’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?”
“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears.
“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”
“I’m literally helping you study, Jeno,” you seethed out.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body.
“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Jaemin had left, pushing Jeno away the second you confirmed it.
Jeno, however, wasn’t having any of it.
With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”
“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly.
“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled.
“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him.
Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you.
Jaemin was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jeno into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right?
“Y/N,” Jeno hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Jaemin roaming around the halls of the library.
It was quite amusing to Jeno if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jeno’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly.
“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Jaemin) now.
“That’s my car in case you forgot—”
“Now.”
“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips.
You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Jaemin, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully.
You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jeno’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing.
It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes.
You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jeno, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him.
You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke.
A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jeno looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state.
Once Jeno caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected.
“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve.
“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving.
Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jeno pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex?
Or because you almost kissed. Almost.
The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jeno glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car.
“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone.
Jeno was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment.
That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind.
No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Jaemin’s account.
He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Jaemin, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jeno didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Jaemin fucked up when he cheated on you.
And now the asshole is running after you again.
You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you.
He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful.
Beautiful.
Jeno thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry.
He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile.
Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark.
Jeno made you smile.
You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jeno’s sweet chuckles.
Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jeno almost kissed—
No.
You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal?
Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jeno at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way.
“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy.
Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jeno’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday.
Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park.
You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jeno’s place.
Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jeno, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—
“Hey,” he whispered, looking around.
He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?”
“Shh,” Jeno mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion.
Now you get why Jeno was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine.
You felt Jeno stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so.
“You must be the new tutor for Jeno,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jeno’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze.
“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off.
“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jeno, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.”
You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever.
“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jeno because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jeno’s hand dropping down from your wrist.
“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”
You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jeno’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression.
Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do.
You spoke for him.
You defended him.
No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation.
“W—Why?” Jeno couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”
That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer.
“Jeno,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer.
You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jeno of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jeno is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it.
That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody.
“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally.
He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours.
“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that.
Jeno didn’t realize his eyes were glistening.
“What?” You breathed out.
He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”
“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his.
“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes.
You stayed mum, letting him speak.
“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”
Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him.
“Jeno,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath.
“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him.
“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”
He blinked.
He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed.
“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up.
Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you.
“You scare me,” he muttered.
“Why?”
“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”
“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”
He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t.
“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse.
You nodded softly.
Jeno took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back.
You inhaled sharply once Jeno’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape.
“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently.
“Tell me,” you mumbled.
If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jeno’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered.
The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.”
You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jeno’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body.
“Jeno—”
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“Say what?” You breathed.
“That you’re glad I’m not him.”
You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.”
His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity.
You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere.
You held your breath as he leaned in—
Knock.
Jeno swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back.
“Jeno?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two.
Your hands trembled as Jeno moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jeno a few seconds back.
“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door.
“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.
“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.
Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight.
You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing.
A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain.
If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him.
Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want.
Jeno hadn’t texted you all night.
Not that you waited, except, you did.
He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity.
So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully.
Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.
Jaemin.
“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does.
“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”
“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jeno.”
“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out.
“I mean, trading me for Jeno?” Voice full of pity.
“As if you were an option, Jaemin,” you turned sharply.
That shut him up for half a second.
“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”
Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm.
“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”
“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”
“What does he have that I don’t?”
“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal.
Jeno was here.
“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap.
And Jaemin did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”
Jeno raised his brow, “you done?”
Jaemin chuckled, “not even close.”
You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse.
“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jeno but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.”
Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense.
Jeno moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply.
“Ask him to leave.” Jeno said, voice low.
“Jaemin, just leave,” you said, turning to him.
But he didn’t, and so Jeno did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Jaemin’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly.
“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jeno spoke.
“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jeno?”
“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.”
Jaemin blinked, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jeno.”
“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth.
“You’ll come back,” Jaemin’s jaw ticked as he said so.
“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.
That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back.
Once he was gone, you shoved Jeno, hard.
“The fuck was that?”
“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”
“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jeno following you behind.
“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty.
“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Jaemin is just as worse, Jeno.”
“I—”
“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”
His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jeno couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be.
“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you.
“Fuck—fuck!” Jeno punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall.
“How do I even tell you I want you?”
Chapter 7: I stayed, even when it was easier to run.
The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment.
It had been three nights since the library fiasco.
Two nights since the almost kiss.
One night since the blow up with Jaemin.
You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jeno to show up—hoping he would.
The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened.
He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?
He hesitated.
You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you.
It was unbearable.
This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table.
Just yesterday, he burned through Jaemin like jealousy was oxygen.
He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened.
He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once.
“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check.
“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper.
“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jeno always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you.
“You came late,” you said, still not looking up.
“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched.
“Not my problem,” you retorted.
“I was thinking.”
“You should study instead.”
“You hate me now, huh?” Jeno leaned forward, voice flat.
You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.
“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No, Jeno. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”
He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, jaw tight, like he was keeping a war behind his teeth. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you.”
“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered.”
You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.
Jeno sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”
Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”
“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”
You shook your head slowly. “No, Jeno. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you want to.”
His hands balled into fists. “And you’re not?”
“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away.
He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch.
“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”
You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were.
“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down.
“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”
He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you.
“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.
You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jeno, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.
“I’ll be waiting.”
You turned to leave then, leaving Jeno with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting.
You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong.
It wasn’t about the question, it was about him.
He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time.
Jeno couldn’t sleep at night,
I’ll be waiting.
That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail.
He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jeno didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today.
You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jeno. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case.
He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.
He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.
When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did.
Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results.
Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat.
You waited, not loud, but silently.
Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jeno, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that.
Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jeno was just a hoax.
Did you imagine it all?
On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jeno was drowning in darkness.
The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want. From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself.
He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt.
Results were out.
He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open.
83%
Not perfect. But more than enough.
Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.
Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.
Jeno:
I passed.
Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.
Your reply came back six minutes later.
You:
I knew you would.
It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jeno? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t.
He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him.
You knew it was hard for Jeno, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jeno needed time, but you had to check.
You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jeno to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered.
Jaehyun.
Of course, it had to be him.
“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”
You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jeno home?”
He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”
“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright.
There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to.
Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”
You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation.
“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”
“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”
Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”
“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically.
“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jeno in them.
“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jeno so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”
“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”
Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jeno. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun.
“Hey,” you breathed out.
No reply.
“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again.
However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat.
Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone.
“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice.
“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.
Jeno stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jeno? He just could not believe it.
“You were talking to him,” Jeno said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken.
“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jeno.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”
Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done.
“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”
“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”
“Didn’t look that way.”
That hurt. You flinched. “Jeno, why are you doing this?”
“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”
“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that.
“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said.
Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jeno, every single one. He just couldn’t see it.
“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”
“It was,” you whispered. “Jeno, it is. I am proud of you.”
“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.
You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.
“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”
“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”
He turned away. “Then go.”
“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”
That one landed like a punch.
Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.
“Fine.”
You turned.
And you left.
And this time, he didn’t stop you.
Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay
You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did.
You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different.
Jeno, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left.
Maybe you shouldn’t have.
It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave.
And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.
Until now.
Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.
His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.
He had to find you.
So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking.
That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman.
“Fucking hell, Lee Jeno, you look like shit.” He grinned.
Jeno didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—
“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Jaemin told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”
Jeno froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Jaemin in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that.
“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke.
“The fuck did you just say?”
Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”
Jeno’s vision turned black.
“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.
Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”
The punch landed before he could finish.
Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jeno back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.
Jeno wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him.
His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jeno stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire.
It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jeno stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest.
“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Jeno didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you.
Jeno:
where are you?
please say something
i’m so fucking sorry Y/N
i didn’t mean it
i didn’t mean any of it i swear
Y/N please
No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why.
He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands.
You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank.
The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t.
You kept thinking about Jeno, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications.
17 Missed calls.
6 Voicemails.
26 Unread texts.
The last of which made your blood run cold.
Jeno:
Y/N please
i’m outside
You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy.
“Jeno,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him.
“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”
“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.
“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”
“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room.
You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”
He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him.
“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable.
“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jeno, I do.”
He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry.
You were glad Jeno was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jeno stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in.
His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him.
His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet.
Then Jeno opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him.
The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles.
“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew.
He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact.
“Sorry,” you breathed out.
“I deserve worse,” he breathed back.
“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him.
He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”
“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jeno,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”
“Not my first time.”
You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”
“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”
You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.
“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”
“God, Y/N—”
“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”
You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.
“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”
His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”
“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.
He didn’t pull away.
“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”
“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”
“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”
“You told me to go!”
“I didn’t mean it!”
“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”
“I didn’t think you’d stay.”
“I stayed!”
You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jeno’s legs, him looking up at you. Jeno ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.
“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”
Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”
You stared at him.
He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.
Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”
“I know.”
You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.
“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”
“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jeno.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”
Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.
“Then be more, Jeno.”
He stared at you.
“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”
That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.
“You’re in love with me?”
The words dropped like a bomb between you.
You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”
Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled.
“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support.
It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough.
“You’re mad at me,” Jeno stated.
“I should be mad.”
“I’m mad too,” he added.
“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.
But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek.
That was it. That was when Jeno finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you.
He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.
Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second.
You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.
You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting.
“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”
You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jeno kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap.
“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”
You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”
“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”
Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.
He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.
His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.
You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”
Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over.
“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him.
“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.
“It’s not.”
“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You—like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”
You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jeno.”
“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”
“Then tell me.”
His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”
You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”
His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.
“Can I?”
You nodded.
He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.
Like something sacred.
You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.
His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.
He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”
Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”
You kissed the bruise.
He gasped.
“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”
His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”
“I want to,” you whispered.
Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.
“Fuck, Y/N—”
“Jeno,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”
He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.
“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”
He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”
Jeno wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him.
He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you.
“Jeno—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you.
The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jeno wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt.
“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jeno mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed.
All his life Jeno couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jeno, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else.
“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago.
“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jeno was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this.
You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jeno, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said.
His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.
Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jeno’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jeno, and the burning hunger that consumes you both.
Jeno’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him.
“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him.
Jeno chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?”
“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts.
“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles.
You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jeno wanted, you’d let him do it to you.
That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over.
In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin.
You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.
He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now.
You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral.
He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jeno was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be.
That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely.
His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you.
Jeno zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.
“Fuck—Jeno, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.
He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.
Jeno chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.
“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jeno was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air.
Jeno pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”
You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jeno,” you begged, fueling his ego.
“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—
He stopped.
You let out a frustrated groan and Jeno only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed.
“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously.
He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked.
He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jeno was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Jaemin went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you.
“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.
“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly.
“What—Jeno what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.
“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed.
You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jeno.
“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip.
“Nothing.” You mumbled.
He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”
Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jeno’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching.
“You know, Jeno, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up.
Jeno’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”
He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”
You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.
Jeno chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”
Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.
He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jeno would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.
“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”
He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”
“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and—ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff.
“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice.
And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jeno was for being the one in control.
You squirmed beneath Jeno, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jeno’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.
“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jeno growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”
His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.
“Hm—so responsive,” Jeno purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”
“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.
But Jeno seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jeno taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”
His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jeno just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue.
Jeno was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?”
“Fuck—Jeno, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms.
“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”
You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud.
Jeno’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.
“Fuck—baby,” Jeno groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”
You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jeno’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.
“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”
You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.
Jeno’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”
You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff.
God he loved you.
Jeno growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso.
Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.
“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”
With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jeno set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.
You let out a sharp cry as Jeno’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.
“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”
Jeno grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.
“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jeno mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”
His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.
“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jeno. I’m so fucking close.”
He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.
Jeno snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.
“Cum for me,” Jeno demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”
With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jeno because you weren’t just having an orgasm.
You were squirting all over his cock.
Jeno followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.
“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”
You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jeno held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.
“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”
“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could.
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Jeno.”
“Fuck—again.”
“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.”
“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive.
After a few moments, Jeno carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.
“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”
You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”
“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed.
You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”
That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started.
Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more.
You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jeno kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count.
It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated.
Turns out, Jeno can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds.
He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jeno doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily.
“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him.
It was perhaps the best day of Jeno’s life.
The air felt different today.
Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jeno was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it.
It was.
You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.
Someone definitely said your name. Then his.
And then, clear as day, they whispered.
“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”
Jeno didn’t flinch.
Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?
You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”
“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”
“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”
He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”
You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.
“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”
“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”
“Yeah? What’s the title?”
You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”
That made him stop walking.
You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.
“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me. Even when I made it so damn hard.”
You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”
“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”
You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Jaemin and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Jaemin looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jeno—who didn’t even spare him a glance.
He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.
Jeno followed. No hesitation.
Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.
And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.
if you could describe him with one single feeling or emotion what would it be and why?
GENRE — written stories, interview format that conducts the story
WARNINGS — none so far but def more tba
AUTHORS NOTE — hi i don't know when these will come out or how long they'll be but this is inspired off of a tiktok i got on my fyp and literally all of the feelings were stolen off of it 😭 i wrote it all down in my notes and forgot to save the tiktok link to credit it up until now but credits to that original tiktok!! also all of these stories are meant to be smut since i'm trying to explore that field for my writing so i did not add chenle or jisung to this series, sorry!!
RECENT UPDATES — july 5th, continuing on writing jaemin's story
TAGLIST — @myaheartsmarkie (send an ask, dm, or comment to be added!)
reader survey will not be provided for this series.
❝ i don't think i'd be here without him, and for that i'm grateful. ❞
while you couldn't see much in everyone else, you saw hope in mark lee. after leaving a toxic and abusive relationship that left you in a dangerously concerning mental state mark was the one who put his feelings aside and put all of his time and energy into you. you will eternally be grateful for what he's done, but what do you do once you find out about his lifelong crush on you?
PAIRING — mark x fem!reader
GENRE(s) — angst, fluff, unrequited love (but not really)
WARNINGS — severe mental health issues for reader, mentions of suicide and self harm, discretion is advised to those who are sensitive to this kind of content
STATUS — not started
teaser | full fic
❝ awww is someone upset? gonna cry, baby? ❞
you and renjun had been friends forever considering the fact your mothers were best friends while also being neighbors. you and renjun were inseparable but your friendship consisted of teasing each other and usually irritating the other. it's all fine until someone crosses the line and somebodies feelings get hurt. it turns out the only line that was crossed was the friendship betweeen you and renjun. what do these encounters hold for the future of your friendship and will it turn to something greater?
PAIRING — renjun x fem!reader
GENRE(s) — smut, crack, fluff, angst, childhood best friends to fwb to lovers
WARNINGS — LOTS of bickering, tba
STATUS — not started
teaser | full fic
❝ it's not bad, i just think it's a little delusional to think jeno lee is the greatest being to exist. ❞
you and jeno lee know each other quite well considering your older brother is married to his older sister, but he's never been someone you took a particular interest towards. he's much too full of himself and thinks the world revolves around him. the one time you decide to attend a college party, your dynamics change after a confession. the question is, will you give him a chance?
PAIRING — jeno x fem!reader
GENRE(s) — crack, angst, fluff, smut
WARNINGS — tba
STATUS — not started
teaser | full fic
❝ out of everything i thought love could be, wishing i was in lee donghyuck's arms was definitely something i was not expecting. ❞
lee donghyuck. god, how much rage you feel when you hear that name. everyone knew that no room would ever be silent if y/n and donghyuck were in there. you were both enemies and neither of you made it a secret. but if you're both enemies, why do you feel jealousy when donghyuck shows off his new girlfriend?
PAIRING — donghyuck x fem!reader
GENRE(s) — e2l, crack, fluff, angst, smut
WARNINGS — tba
STATUS — writing (in progress)
teaser | full fic
❝ his eyes were so empty like an endless void. i just want him to know he deserves better. ❞
na jaemin and you only knew each other by mutual friends. both of you were in relationships, and both of you were unhappy. everytime you stared into his eyes you saw a mirror. jaemin unknowingly helped you end your relationship and start your journey into finding yourself. you wanted to repay the favor, but it turned out to be much more difficult than you thought. how could you so selfishly fall in love with someone who can't even love themselves?
Hi!! I can’t WIAT for your haechan bad boy x sad girl fic😭😭 I love u writing sm!!
hello!!! i'm so happy to hear that🤗🤗🤗 i've been so stressed out with school especially exams coming up and how behind ive been so my progress has been incredibly slow but i will try my hardest to get it out when i can 🥹🩷🩷
SUMMARY. how are you supposed to explain that you and na jaemin started dating just to prove each other wrong and ended up catching feelings.
PAIRING.na jaemin x female! reader
GENRE. strangers to lovers, college! au, matchmaking! au, yet another richkid! au, jaemin is an asshole again, romance, humor.
WARNINGS.excessive swearing, a near death experience, drinking and smoking, more than a handful of illegal shit, mentions of vomit, blood, violence, too much sexual tension it’s unhealthy, again jaemin is kind of a dick but he’s an attractive dick, jaemin also likes it when you tell him his personality is trash.
WORD COUNT. 16k
TAGLIST. @alwayswithjaemin @carelessshootanonymous @sundamariis @nominsgirl @shentingz @jvjsssnaa @neozws @urfavtallgirl @dakneeee @wonforgyu @fullsunbabe @luv4jeno @rxnexxi @argooose @jaemsushi @stopeatread @lovesuhng @jaehyunicrecream @byunbaekcult @haedgaf @sehunniepot @lebrookestore @ghouerry @lanadreamie @rum-gone-why @ririlovesrenjun
NOTE. upon posting the preview, this was already set out to be a one-dimensional word vomit on my most favorite guilty pleasure— jaemin being a weirdo and an asshole— but as i kept writing, i accidentally gave it a little more depth and development and oopsies. there’s 6k more words than the estimation. but this is still essentially plotless, mindless, and self-indulgent.
hope you enjoy this characterization of jaemin because i do. way too much. this is the first long fic i’ll be posting after a year of inactivity so feedback would be appreciated haha i’m so fucking nervous to publish this hope u all like it.
“Do I really have to go with you?”
You see, when your parents told you you were going to have dinner together with the family of your dad’s friend— explicitly mentioning that their son, who just happened to be the same age as you, would be joining— you already knew that this isn’t going to be an innocent dinner.
They think they’re slick. They act like they haven’t already done this five times before. You’re getting sick and tired, and you express your dissent once more while entering your dad’s car, pretending like you have a choice on the matter as if you hadn’t already prettied yourself up as per your mother’s request.
❝ i wouldn't be here without you, and i'm forever grateful. ❞
a short series between a lost, hopeless girl and a young reckless boy. she learns that there's more. beyond the surface to a person, and he learns to love and not let others opinions define him.
L> PAIRING; haechan × fem!reader
L> GENRE(s); hurt/comfort fic, sns/text au (there will still be a lot of writing involved; more than usual), angst, fluff, bad boy x sad girl
L> WARNINGS; depression, attempted suicide, a lot of issues (goes for both mc and hc), overall very heavy topics incorporated throughout the whole story
L> STATUS; unreleased; in the works
L> AUTHORS NOTE; i hope y'all like this one 🫡 i wanted something more heavy and comforting for my mentally ill folk out there (let me say that without getting canceled pls im ill too)
L> TAGLIST; @myhaechan @sundamariis @mark-wife-renjun-whore cmt or send an ask to be added whichever one works im too lazy to make a form for this
hey guys i was on vacation im back home now but my body is sore and i just wanna sleep the whole day today so the next o!mm episode comes out tomorrow 🤗
summary: When you're hired as the band's hair stylist and don’t fall for Jaemin's charm immediately, he takes a special interest in you, and makes it his mission to break you down and get you on your knees.
pairing: player!Jaemin x hair stylist fem!reader
genre: porn w plot, slow burn, angst, eventual heavy fluff bc i’m too soft
trope: rock star, bad boy, co-workers to lovers
a/n: yeeee sorry this is late & 6x longer than i originally said... also?!? hard dom Jaemin? did april fools day come early ??
warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (f&m), mirror sex, exhibitionism, manhandling, choking, restraints, lil corruption kink, brief p*ssy slapping, over stimulation, brief dollification, camera use, Jaemin kind of gaslighting y/n but not sexually, drinking, smoking & drugs, me pushing the JM big dick agenda, sweet hard dom Jaemin, super sub reader
Danger in a leather jacket waltzes into the salon, unannounced and expectant, just before the work day bleeds into night. The emerging rock star looks down at his phone, reading the directions Haechan provided before strolling down the aisle like he owns the place.
It’s almost closing time when he shows up, and after a long day of work, to say you’re a bit hungry would be a massive understatement. Although, within three seconds of spotting the new visitor, a craving for something other than food blooms in your stomach.
“Hi, I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, as if you didn’t recognize the musician standing a few feet away from you. He plops himself down in your salon chair, swiveling to face you and extending a polite hand. A mere three words have rolled off his silver tongue and yet you can already sense his flirt-ometer is dialed up to 12.
Everything about him screams trouble! with a capital T. The cheeky smile plastered on his devilishly handsome face, stylish black outfit that fits his lean body like a glove, blinding confidence that radiates off of his glowy skin, and swoon-worthy charm embedded into his DNA are all more than enough to make you weak in the knees. You’re not the first to react this way in his presence and you certainly will not be the last. He’s used to this response… actually, he expects this response.
Jaemin’s reputation precedes him.
Gossip travels fast in a beauty salon and whether it’s whispered behind the backs of hookups or recapped by the girls who have physically gotten to their knees for the bad boy. You have collected a dozen statements and the warnings that follow what is typically a one-night-only good time with him.
“He only thinks about music, getting high and getting his dick wet.”
“He’ll use you up and ghost you the next day.”
“He’s railed a girl backstage at every concert hall he’s performed in.”
So this begs the question… do you really want to become another conquest for the cocky musician to scratch off his “to-do” list?
Over the past few seasons, his band, Bad Dreams' popularity has soared through the roof. They recently signed with a new record label and there’s a rumor floating around that they’re preparing to release their second full length album soon. You have a sneaking suspicion that the fact that they’re shaking up their appearances, or more specifically, their hair styles, confirms that fan theory.
Their label routinely directs their artists to the upscale hair salon you work at. You have been here for six months and during your employment, you have seen plenty of musicians pass through the salon. But it was only two weeks ago that you first encountered an artist that left you downright starstruck.
It was late evening when the vocalist walked through the door. Your last client of the day had already left, and you were sweeping up the strands of hair scattered along the floor when one of Jaemin’s bandmates, Haechan, showed up without an appointment. There wasn’t a single stylist available at the time, and although you were basically on your way out the door, you stayed later to finish dying his hair because how could you not? It was Lee Haechan. The lead vocalist from your new favorite rock band that you'd seen in concert a few months ago when they opened for another band you liked. It felt surreal even being close to him, let alone touching him in some small way.
Haechan’s girlfriend accompanied him to the salon as well, not that you would’ve made a move on him or anything. Getting involved with an artist like him would be unprofessional and you have a strict policy against that sort of thing. You thought their banter was cute and couldn’t help but think they’re fortunate to have found someone that seemed so perfect for them. She teased him for screwing up the times and accidentally missing his real appointment earlier in the day and he threatened something about not wearing a few certain pairs of jeans...whatever the hell that means…
The couple must have put in a good word for you because following his impromptu hair dying, Mark, Renjun and Jeno booked appointments with you the following week. It’s not uncommon for the band members to change their hair colors fairly often, which meant it was only a matter of time before every member of the group had taken their turn in your salon chair. The thing is, you had no idea you would be meeting the final member this evening with no prior warning to his arrival.
If you knew he was coming, maybe you would’ve dressed more appealing or done your makeup nicer than usual. But on the other hand, he would’ve expected you to do something like that, right? And if you intend to heed the warnings from those past girls he used up and tossed aside like trash, you wouldn’t go the extra mile to look more presentable. He is a client that showed up unannounced on a night that you feel particularly exhausted. No matter who he is or how much you want to straddle his lap, you have a moral obligation to abide by.
“Hi, Jaemin! I’m…the stylist that wishes you would've made an appointment with me first.” You shake his hand, repaying his smile with a polite one, then resume sweeping the hair below his feet.
You don’t look back up at him, focusing on the task you were attending to before he appeared. In many ways, this incident is similar to when Haechan showed up. The difference is that the previous guy was apologetic about the mistaken time and very gracious when you agreed to do his hair despite showing up out of nowhere — something you feel is partially credited to being in a relationship with someone who is constantly humbling him.
“Well, Haechan told me your name is y/n. So, y/n, I was wondering if you would do my hair?”
You stop sweeping and lean your weight on the wooden broom handle. “I would love to, Jaemin!”
“Great! I’m sick of my dark hair and I was thinking-”
“When would you like to make an appointment with me?”
Jaemin pauses for a second, thrown off guard by rejection. “You mean...you can’t do me now? Haechan said he came here around this time a few weeks ago and he didn’t make an appointment with you then.”
“True, but I wasn’t as tired and hungry that night.” You shrug, dispensing of the hair and moving on to wiping the counter with a sanitary cloth.
“Oh… hey, how about I buy you something to eat?”
You make eye contact with the captivating gaze studying your movements in the reflection of the mirror, and raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”
Jaemin clutches his chest and leans back as if surprised. “Me? Asking you out? No! This is just getting food since, like you said, you’re hungry! Unless…” He relaxes into the chair again, dawning that same smile he wore when he first introduced himself. “... you want me to ask you out.”
“Oh…hmm.” You rub your lips together.
Last week’s you would have said yes in a heartbeat but the effect of meeting his bandmates one-by-one must have made the shiny novelty of being in the presence of the remaining rock star less intimidating. He’s still drop dead gorgeous and you’re still attracted to the infamous playboy but, again, he is a potential client and you are a strong willed professional. You have no intention of treating him rudely and you hope it hasn’t come off that way; you simply need to set some boundaries with Jaemin.
“Thanks but I think I'll have to pass.” You toss the wipe in the trash and pick up your appointment book. Flipping through the pages to the next available slots, you don’t notice his stunned expression. “Okay, the next time I’m available is next week on Tuesday from 3 t—"
“I’m sorry, what was that? You’ll pass?”
“Yes.” You crouch down and rummage through a cabinet at your workstation to grab something to write with.
“Yes, as in you will go out with me tonight?” he says hopefully.
“No. Yes, as in I’ll pass,” you giggle at the surprising optimism in his voice as you turn to face him for once. “And didn’t you say this wasn’t you asking me out?”
Jaemin clears his throat. “I’m not. I wasn’t asking you out, you must be hearing things.”
Both of you hear your stomach rumble with urgency and you let out a fatigued sigh. You could practically taste last night’s leftovers impatiently waiting for you in the fridge and as fun as it is staring at a pretty face like his, you are eager to leave. “Jaemin, do you want the appointment or not?”
Jaemin nods defeatedly. “Yes… I won’t pass on seeing you again, princess.”
You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t comment on it, penciling in his name and writing the details out on a tiny appointment card for him to avoid looking into his eyes. He likes to imagine that the name has the desired effect based on the way you avoided looking at him when “princess” left his mouth. He picks out a different pet name for every girl that catches his eye and to Jaemin you just look like you’ll melt if he calls you his princess enough times.
You hand the paper slip with the appointment time and date to him. His fingers brush against yours and, as cliche as it sounds, you feel tiny electric sparks tingling through your body stemming from where you made the slightest, brief contact with his skin.
Undoubtedly, it’s all in your head though. Perhaps the exhaustion is catching up to you and your mental capacity for rational decision making is short circuiting. There is absolutely nothing even remotely special going on between you two because at the end of the day, you’re just another girl he’s trying to sleep with. To get close to Na Jaemin, the embodiment of bad news, would be a major mistake on your part.
“Can I walk you to your car?”
You peek over his shoulder into the dark, empty parking lot. Being that you can make out your car in the shadows from where you’re standing, you feel that there is no need for accompaniment to your vehicle.
“Thanks, but I think I’m good.” Jaemin slightly pouts his lips adorably as he follows you like a scolded puppy out the door. “Um, well I’ll see you next week I guess.”
He looks down at the appointment card one last time and a mischievous smile spreads across his face. You gasp when he quickly plants a tender kiss on your cheek. He backtracks a few paces to look you up and down, drinking in your body one last time before he hits the road. “Yes, y/n. Yes you will. Tuesday. 3:00 pm… it’s a date,” he says confidently. Jaemin sends a flirty wink your way then jogs off to his car somewhere around the corner of the salon.
“It’s not a- !” you shout after the drummer who vanishes before you finish your rebuttal.
You reach up to the spot he kissed your skin, touching where his lips met your face. You slide into your car in a daze. The steering wheel is cold to the touch but the frozen leather doesn’t register with you right away. You take a deep breath after a moment and remind yourself that Jaemin is nothing to you because you’re basically nothing to him. You’re not playing into his hands like puddy to be molded however he pleases.
It’s not like you are the type to have a "I’m not like other girls'' mentality; you don’t believe yourself to be better or smarter than anyone else. You simply want to show Jaemin that his lousy, half-assed shot isn’t hitting the target he painted on some new girl’s ass. Maybe, just maybe, knocking him down a few pegs will serve as a learning point and he won’t pursue any future strangers with the same self entitled sleazy behavior.
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Jaemin is used to getting what he wants. He gets away with practically everything he does, sweet talking his way out of sticky situations that arise and using the art of persuasion to obtain anything that he could possibly ever desire. What’s more is that he rarely needs to put in much effort to get the outcome he’s seeking.
He couldn’t care less about whatever lesson you’re trying to teach him. Anyone with eyes could see that you are playing hard to get and he bets you will be eating out of the palm of his hand by the end of next week.
It is only a matter of time before you are his to ruin.
“Nah, dude, I really like her!” Mark objects when Jaemin reveals what actually happened between you two after only giving his housemates half the details the first night he met you. He flops down in a cheap bean bag chair in the corner of the small living room then lurches forward with wide eyes. “Wait, like, not like-like her. I mean, um, I think she’s really cool and I don’t want you to, like, mess up the band’s connection with y/n, you know?”
Jeno snickers, reaching over the coffee table to pass him the bong after taking a hit. “Calm down, Mark. We know you've got a crush on that one songwriter at the company, you don’t need to freak out.”
Mark's ears burn cherry red at the mention of the girl he's completely smitten over. “I’m not freaking out! All I’m saying is Jaemin’s idea is fucked up and I don’t know why I’M the only one who thinks that.” Mark pulls a lighter out of his pocket and finishes off what’s left of the bowl that hasn’t turned to ash.
Despite their newfound fame, the band still shares the same house. Although there is very little privacy among the five, it’s not the worst situation in the world. They all have their own rooms and there are enough parking spaces for those of them that drive so they haven’t found a need to move out yet.
Nevertheless, if the band had to complain about anything, one of the first things Mark, Renjun, Jeno and Haechan would bring up is the frequency in which Jaemin brings home new hookups and how loud the combination of hot moaning and squeaky bed springs tends to be in the middle of the night. Sometimes they’re one-night stands and other times they serve as Jaemin’s little plaything that he’ll keep around for a short period of time — emphasis on short. Most of them grow attached to him, assuming it's an unspoken relationship sort of thing, but Jaemin hasn't had a relationship in several years and he doesn't plan on having a girlfriend anytime soon. He's perfectly content with the revolving door of girls he's set up nicely.
He hasn’t always been this way though. Heartbreak can do that to a person, fucking them up so badly that they spiral into this fiercely independent thrill seeker who views attachment as a death sentence. They’ll do nearly anything under the sun just to distract themselves and feel something other than heartache once and awhile until it’s a distant, foggy memory. Jaemin has found success in this field, putting off what normal, healthy people feel and diving deeper into this numbing pit.
Even if the nightly disturbances prevent them from getting sufficient shut eye, the other four members would rather lose sleep if it meant that they could keep his bad practices in check, preventing those from potentially worsening or him experimenting with harder drugs on a regular basis if not under their supervision. It's one thing to snort a line of coke at a party, but addiction and dependency on a dangerous drug is what they're concerned about him doing someday.
“You’re not the only one, Mark. There’s no way she’s dumb enough to cave within a week,” Renjun concurs from the couch. He turns to Haechan on his left and softly requests that he packs the bowl for him because Renjun doesn’t like doing it himself. Naturally, he gets what he wants, as per usual when he asks nicely in a way that the others can’t say no to.
“So what? You’re saying you think it’ll take longer?”
Haechan snaps his tongue disappointedly, not looking up to address the speaker as he concentrates on crumbling the weed on Renjun’s behalf. “It’s not about ‘how long.’ It’s about leaving her alone because you’re harassing her and she’s obviously not interested.”
“Why? Does she have a boyfriend? Orrr, I don't know, girlfriend?” Jaemin sits down at the coffee table and folds his legs in front of him.
“As far as I know she’s single,” Renjun informs him before taking a hit that’s too big for him and heavily coughing.
“Okay, so what I'm hearing is that you don’t know that she’s not interested for sure-for sure.”
“Come on, Jaemin. She’s, like, the only stylist that’s fried my hair the least out of all the others we’ve been to,” Mark points at his blond hair.
Jeno tilts towards him to pat his head and verify it’s less straw-like than previous trips to the hair salon. “I wish she could be the one to do our hair regularly, even for this album and the tour.”
“Me too,” Haechan agrees. “Actually, my wish is that somebody doesn’t fuck up our chances of y/n even agreeing to do our hair again and maybe even get us banned from the salon.”
“Quit being so dramatic. I’m not going to do something to that scale.”
“‘Do something to that scale?’” Renjun says with a faded drawl to his voice. “Even after we explicitly told you that we don’t want you to hit and run y/n, you’re still going to do it anyways. Great. Our friendship means nothing. Got it.”
Jaemin holds his hands up as if being held at gunpoint by their barrage of criticisms. “Ugh, okay! I get it! You guys don’t want me to mess with her. I’ll back off, okay?”
Jeno lightly kicks Jaemin to get his attention. “Wait a minute. Don’t you have an appointment with her tomorrow?” he recalls, receiving a nod of confirmation. “So are you going to cancel it to make her less uncomfortable?”
“Why would I do that? If you guys can be friends with y/n, why can’t I be friends with y/n too?”
Haechan snorts, painfully blowing some smoke through his nose as it flows out from his lungs and into the thoroughly hazy air. “Because you can’t force friendships and you’ve probably already creeped her out, that’s why.”
“Well it’s too late now. I can’t cancel this late, that would be incredibly rude! And friends don’t do that to other friends.”
“Surrre,” the singer replies sarcastically. “Like you don’t already have some ulterior motive behind wanting to be friends with her. We all get it, you want to fuck her brains out. But could you just consider what we’re saying and keep it in your pants? For once?”
“Actually, when you think about it, she's lucky that we’ll be too busy getting ready to drop the album that you won’t have, like, all the time in the world to bug her,” Mark comments.
“And your hair is lucky you won’t be frying it every week just to see her again,” Jeno pokes fun at his best friend. He smiles widely when he, Lee Jeno – new residential funny guy of the band, receives a chuckle from the bunch.
After its second trip around the room, the bong returns to Jaemin’s grasp. A lightbulb goes off in Jaemin’s head as he brings the mouthpiece to his lips. Knowing they would disapprove, he doesn’t share the ingenious idea that popped into his mind. “Yeah, you’re right…if only we had more time to see her.”
─────────────────────
“Mmmh, that feels good,” Jaemin practically moans as you massage his scalp in the wash bowl. “Are you usually this quiet during appointments? You’ve barely said anything this whole time.”
“No, not all of them. Just during the appointments with guys trying to flirt with me the whole time,” you reply with a smirk.
“Who said I was flirting with you, y/n?”
“No one had to say anything. You literally asked me out last week.”
“Woah, woah, woah, hang on a minute. I thought we went over this? I was simply asking if you wanted to get food as friends,” he poorly attempts to persuade you.
“Oh, so we’re friends now, huh? I guess I didn’t get the memo that we were already friends.” You stop running your fingers through his soft hair and rinse the nourishing conditioner out with warm water.
Jaemin frowns a bit when you pivot around to retrieve a neatly folded towel from the rack behind you. He liked the view from this position, looking up at your concentrated face and memorizing your features in a situation where you couldn’t avoid facing him. Sadly, all good things must end, including this one.
You ring the fluffy towel around the halo of his hairline and help him pat his freshly dyed hair dry. He sits up from the position he was laying, tilted back with his head hovering over the wash bowl.
“Yeah, well, now you know. We’re friends… and as your nicest, most considerate and utmost reliable friend, I went ahead and got you a new, better job,” he states proudly.
“You what?” you ask, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
Jaemin takes over from there and holds the towel in place himself. He twists his torso around to face you with an excited expression. “I talked to the guys and they all love how you did their hair, sooo I went to the company and talked about you and ta-da! You have a new job with us!”
“With… you?”
“Yeah, well not just me, silly. It’s all of us! and shhh, don’t tell anyone but-” Jaemin leans in closer and motions for you to do the same. Cupping one hand around his mouth he whispers, “-we’re releasing our second album in a few weeks! AND going on a short tour right after that!”
“Um, congrats! But what does that have to do with me again?”
Jaemin rolls his eyes teasingly like the answer is right under your nose and if it were a snake, it would have bitten you already. “Tour! T-O-U-R. We’re going on tour. And we need someone to do our hair because the old stylist left the day after we shot the music video and now that someone is you.”
Your eyes widen slowly while you absorb the new information that he sprung on you unexpectedly. “I-I don’t know what to say…when is–”
“Princess, this is when you say ‘thank you, Jaemin! I never imagined having such an amazing, handsome, and talented friend like you!’” he exclaims in a higher pitched tone with no regard to the judgmental side glances from other occupants of the beauty salon.
Although you hate to think that you owe the notorious playboy anything whatsoever, he is 100% correct. His questionably kind deed deserves your gratitude. You never would have imagined having someone like Jaemin, a borderline b-list celebrity from a rock band that you had just started listening to a few months ago, would have thrown around his weight to earn you a role at the legendary music label. Come to think of it, you are surprised he has any influence on staff-related matters at all, considering the band joined the company relatively recently themselves.
Jaemin lets the wrinkly wet towel slip onto his muscular shoulders, throwing his arms around you. He embraces your stunned body in a bear hug, thawing your frozen frame with his hot body heat. Water droplets trickle down from his hair and land on your blouse, nevertheless, similar to the soured opinions directed at you two in the establishment, the dampening of your clothing means very little to the both of you at the moment.
“Um, i… thank you, Jaemin.”
“Hold up, wait. Are you saying you’ll do it? Really!?”
The damp towel rung around his neck falls to the floor when he suddenly steps back. He holds both of your shoulders, looking you square in the face. His eyes lit up hearing your words due to the fact that he was half convinced you would turn down the offer, prioritizing loyalty to the business without second thought.
“Yes, I’ll do it,” you laugh lightly at his cute, unexpectedly animated response.
Jaemin becomes self aware a second later, bringing him to drop the smile and clear his throat. He resumes the trademark smooth rock star composure, his seductive, half lidded eyes searching your face for hesitation. “You’re not going to make the mistake of passing on me again, are you?”
“No, I’m not passing on this opportunity you somehow got for me.” You teasingly roll your eyes at his attempt to salvage the cool image he abandoned for authentic elation. “Wait, you’re not messing with me are you? This is a real offer, right?”
“Of course it’s real, y/n,” he assures you.
He bends over to pick up the towel that dropped at your feet. He returns to the upright position a handful of inches away from your face. You hold your breath, heart beating out of your chest, butterflies fluttering up a storm in your abdomen, core clenching around nothing — all byproducts of ending up in such close proximity to him. Being so close, you can smell his clean, cotton cologne, see the teeny, almost invisible crescents of amber rimming the bottom of his irises and, despite a thin of concealer, faint purple pigmentation under his tired eyes.
It’s different than looking down at him as you massaged the dye from his hair. You can back away at any given moment, putting distance between your bodies if you are uncomfortable, just as Jaemin has an equal opportunity to take one step forward at any given moment, colliding your mouths together like he has envisioned not only this whole appointment, but all the days before. Looking at him in 4k clarity, he is nothing less than perfect from your point of view… and that’s a problem for you in both the short term and the long run.
His hypnotic gaze flicks to your lips for a moment then back up to your glossy eyes. “Princess, I’d never mess with you like that. I’m no saint but I’m not the devil,” Jaemin whispers in a hushed voice for only you to hear before booping your nose. He walks a short distance from the washbowls, returning to the styling chair he had eagerly awaited to sit down in since he saw you last. “How about you dry my hair and then we go sign the paperwork? What do ’ya say, y/n?”
You nod dreamily, removing the blow dryer from its slot next to your styling station cabinet. Almost still in disbelief, you feel a bit light headed, whether from the unimaginable job offer or the dangerous heartbreaker sitting in front of you, you have no clue. “I say you got yourself a deal, Jaemin.”
“Perfect,” he approves with a cunning undertone you don’t catch while you’re preoccupied with multitasking, deeply reflecting on the present situation and blow drying his freshly dyed hair.
He may not get you by the end of this week, but the sweet taste of victory is almost on the tip of his tongue. You are at the threshold, barely restraining yourself from letting go and admitting you want him in every way possible.
He wants you to be the one to lean in and kiss his lips. You have to want it so badly that you make the first move and he’ll be patient until he gets what he wants. Jaemin is absolutely certain this time that one more flirty encounter should do the trick before you’ll be kneeling at his feet, mouth wide open and desperate eyes pleading for him to fuck your throat, brutally.
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Before your first day of work, you had spent an incredibly long time stressing over what awaited you now that you have signed at the bottom of a long, binding contract, your name sworn with dark navy blue ink in swirly, scribbled cursive letters that, when put all together, vaguely resembled your name.
The two weeks of your time as an employee was much easier than you thought it would be so your adjustment period as the band’s hairstylist went by in a breeze. You went over their typical weekly schedules with their managers and got a good look at the upcoming promotion timetable, finding out which appearances of theirs would be more laid back and others that will likely require more exertion based on their level of physical activity. There are a few upcoming radio shows, interviews and live performances of their title track song, as well as self-made content of the band doing various fun activities that the company believes will let the fans get to know the band better.
In a short amount of time, Jaemin constantly hitting on you has become nothing more than a minor inconvenience. You’re aware that he sees that as somewhat of a challenge but it doesn’t bother you as much as you worried beforehand. You wonder if the previous hair stylist received the same amount of attention from Jaemin and if he had been flirting up a storm with her too.
…
“So, Mack! Tell us-”
“It’s Mark, actually,” he meekly muttered under his breath, not knowing that the mic-pac would pick up his voice during the tv interview.
“Oh, sorry! What was that again, dear?” The disarming, middle aged interviewer leaned forward and looked down the line of five at the misnamed member on the furthest side of the couch.
The cameraman panned over to Mark, live broadcasting his startled expression over national television. Being that Jaemin had been sitting next to the band’s leader, his face was also captured staring off into the distance with a lost look in his eyes.
He’s typically quiet and introverted in public or around strangers, which is why one might think he pays great attention to the little details of his surroundings. Though this theory sounds reasonable, they would be dead wrong. His bad habit of zoning out happens in the middle of relatively every scheduled event, interview, or activity, and this occasion was no different.
His attention was drawn back to the present when Mark’s elbow accidentally bumped into him subconsciously brushing his hand through his hair in a nervous sweat. “Um, it’s Mark! Sorry for interrupting! Continue, continue,” he said, gesturing with both hands for the host to carry on with the interview questions.
…
“Okay, what were you thinking right there?” you ask him. You pause the video on youtube and point it out to the member whose hair was weirdly textured on just the right side of his head. It’s the first day of promoting their new album and so far they’ve completed two out of the three interviews on the docket. With one last stop to go, his hairdo required more correction than the others when they arrived at the final destination.
“I don’t know!” he squeaks defensively. “Like, how can you forget a name like Mark? It’s basically the easiest one to remember!”
Haechan joins you, Mark and Renjun in the dressing room. “Really? I think you’re pretty forgettable.” Haechan takes a seat on the couch next to him and scoots closer to pat his back. “You should go by Mack from now on. Doesn’t he look like a Mack?”
Unsurprisingly, he ends up on the opposite side of the couch after Mark shoves his shoulder. Haechan slumps to his side, pretending to be wounded and pouting as if he didn’t intentionally aggravate Mark to get wacked, pinched or elbowed on purpose.
“Hey, don’t mess up your hair playing the victim,” you say with amusement.
“Yeah, listen to y/n.” Looking over your shoulder, you see Jaemin enter the room, wagging a finger at him with one hand and holding something behind his back with the other. Jeno nudges him forward a few paces to maneuver around his best friend practically blocking the doorway.
Mark reassures you that he will be more mindful to avoid fidgeting during their last interview in an hour and you shift your attention back to the flirt. You look at him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes. “What’s that behind your back?”
He smiles and reveals a cardboard tray of four Starbucks drinks. “I hope I guessed your order correctly.”
Haechan pops up at your side excitedly. “Did you get all of us coffee? Is the cold brew for me?”
“No, it’s for y/n,” he snaps. He removes the can from the slot in which it was safely stored, holding it out for you. “Besides, there are six of us and four drinks. Can you count?”
You take it from him. “Thank you, Jaemin… but I don’t like cold brew coffee, but thank you., anyways.”
Jaemin watches you hand the drink off to Haechan. He smiles gleefully and cracks open the can, taking a swig of the drink intended for your mouth. He gives you an appreciative half hug before returning to his seat. “Yeah, thank you, Jaemin.”
Jaemin selects another drink from the cardboard tray for his second attempt. “Okay, how about this one?”
You read the markings on the side of the cup to deduce the flavor. “Hm, what if I don’t like cafe lattes?”
“Then what about a mango smoothie?”
“Can I have that one, please?” Mark speaks up from behind you.
You accept the third unwanted drink from Jaemin’s grasp and pass it to the member who asked nicely instead of keeping it in your possession. Jaemin sighs, frustrated by the unexpected failure. He plucks the last one from the carton and brings it up to his mouth for a sip of the drink he ordered for himself personally.
“Wait, is that an iced americano?” You flick your chin at the cup.
He pauses and rolls his eyes. “Lemme guess. This is what you usually order.” The irony of the situation and his expression makes you giggle briefly, nodding to confirm his statement. He looks down at the drink and back to you before reluctantly holding it out. “Fine. You can have my drink. But! You should know that I already drank off of it.”
“I don’t mind,” you answer. Receiving the drink, he watches you slip the straw past your lips and you smile up at him, whether triumphantly or appreciatively, there’s no way to tell the difference.
The gesture was so basic and the result of the situation shouldn’t have mattered but Jaemin felt like you have won this round. Your job isn’t supposed to be a game and yet in his mind he’s losing every match to a girl that he deemed an easy opponent.
─────────────────────
“God, I hate this game,” Renjun grumbles.
Haechan comes up behind him, throwing his arm over Renjun’s narrow shoulders. “God, I love this game.”
“Of course you do.” Renjun attempts to push him away but Haechan koalas his slim frame tighter.
“What does playing ‘Mafia’ have to do with us? How do you even do that with five people?” he adds to the long list of complaints you’ve heard from them since they arrived on set early this morning.
"The show has two hosts, which makes it a total of 7 players," Mark explains. “It won’t be that bad, you guys. It's only a few rounds.” Jeno backs him up with a supportive grunt.
Jeno turns to Jaemin to finish their census on the last filmed content video they are putting out before the tour starts next week. “What do you think, Jaemin?”
“Hm?” Jaemin stops nursing his iced coffee absentmindedly. “Oh, yeah. Mafia doesn’t sound too bad…” As you join them, aiming to fix any hairs out of place with a precise tiny tool in your hand, his tonal inflection shifts to the trademark flirty one you’re so familiar with nowadays. “Hey, gorgeous! What do you think of Mafia?”
“I don’t think that Mafia is as terrible as you guys make it out to be.” You start with Renjun then direct your attention to Jeno. You get on your tiptoes to carefully fix a few pink lemonade strands of hair on the top of his head and make a mental note that the color is fading faster than you anticipated. The members taller than Renjun have grown accustomed to lowering themselves to make your job easier. Moving on to Mark’s hair, he does the same thing automatically.
“Oh my god! We finally agreed on something for the first time ever!”
You roll your eyes, smiling at his silly, false assertion. “This isn’t the first time we’ve ever agreed on something. There's definitely been some other time that we can’t remember where we agreed on something.”
Jaemin strokes his chin considering your statement. “Okay, maybe it’s not the very first but I beeeeet it’s one of the first.”
You scoff and shift to Haechan, correcting the flyaway hairs sprouting where his dark hair is parted. “You’re always using that word: bet. It’s like you’d “bet” on nearly anything like you’re psychic.”
“And what if I am, huh?” he says, words laced with the promise of a challenge. “I bet I can read your mind right now.”
Jaemin’s eyes ping pong from your face, down your body, to your feet and back up again before you approach him to fix his hair. He deviously ruffled his hair on purpose to grant himself more intimate time with you. He studies your face closely, looking for all the tiny tell-tale signs that you are on the verge of cracking and letting him use you like a pliant sexdoll.
“Yeah, right. And I’m not doing that ‘pick a number between whatever and whatever and I’ll say it’ thing either.”
“I wasn’t talking about numbers. I know what you’re thinking… I know what you’re imagining…and I’d say it out loud but–” Jaemin leans in closer to your ear, whispering a heavily suggestive comment. “–I think it’s a bit too explicit for so many people around us to hear your wild, dirty thoughts about what I'm going to do to you.” He rocks back on his heels, retracting his mouth that was nearly skimming the sensitive skin of your neck close to your ear. You turn around to face the other guys and not the playboy.
The ten seconds of silence is broken by Jeno asking “Wait, so what’s y/n thinking?”
“No, what do you think y/n’s thinking, Mr. psychic?” Renjun corrects him. “I’m sure you were correct since you’re just so good at reading minds.”
“Hey, isn’t it funny how Jaemin can read minds but he has the worst memory? Peak comedy right there,” Haechan laughs along with Renjun at the irony.
You avert your eyes from a few curious pairs awaiting the rejection of what he said. You turn your back on them, reaching for Jaemin’s locks of hair that stand up in different directions in an attempt to deal with the embarrassing heat rippling across your face and neck in the most private way possible in this current situation.
“No, he was dead wrong! I was thinking about going home because I’m really tired,” you remark truthfully over your shoulder then tune out whatever conversion follows your nightmarish one where you were put on the spot.
What you were imagining wasn’t anything remotely close to sexual before he spoke. Although, just as he planned, a certain kind of fantasy is the only thing clouding your mind. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is beating alarmingly fast due to the high tension moment. The somersaults in your stomach coax an arousal to simmer just beneath your skin. You wish you could hide it, compartmentalize or, even better, squash the thrilling attraction you feel towards Jaemin so he wouldn’t be able to detect even a fraction of your flustered condition at the moment.
Why do you feel like he has all the power in this situation?
After all, when you think about it for a second, Jaemin is an alleged sex addict. If anyone was going to feel turned on beyond control, wouldn’t it be him? So if you are going to have to suffer through the sexual frustration he caused for the evening, your new job (that he also technically got you) is to make it so he will too. You don’t know how sensitive he is to the little things that turn you on as well, so basically all you can do is hope you can at least kind of bother him to regain some power.
You’re overtly aware that he watches your reactions like a hawk, which is the exact reason why you lick across your top and your bottom lips, slow and sensual, followed by biting your bottom lip to torment him. You keep your bottom lip tucked between your teeth until you’re down sculpting his hair to perfection again. With the comb’s final stroke through his hair, you lean in to Jaemin’s neck even closer than he did for you. Your lips barely graze his smooth skin while whispering, “I don’t know how to explain it but I think doing things in public, with so many people around us to accidentally hear or see, is really fucking hot…but if you pull something like that again, I will shave your fucking head.”
Mark clears his throat awkwardly to try and disturb the tense scene but Jaemin doesn't waver right away, stunned and aroused in a way he didn’t expect from a girl he believed to be so innocent and pure. “I think I just heard them call for us!”
“Uh, no they d–” Jeno starts, giving him a puzzled look but being cut off by Mark nudging his shoulder.
“Let’s go guys,” he calls on them. He flicks his chin in the direction of the nearly blindingly bright set and high definition cameras. Jaemin doesn’t budge until Jeno loops his arm under Jaemin’s, hauling him away from where you stand cemented to the floor in shock.
Why did you do that?
You just made the situation worse by tempting him back. You can’t remember a time when you were more turned on than this moment with him and you could easily imagine yourself getting addicted to that pulsating feeling between your legs. You cross your arms, mind scrambled and unsure what to focus on after his public stunt. With nothing to do, you watch the game of deception.
Every member is animated, lively and competitive today, making for the most entertaining content that their fans can devour. Per usual, Jaemin doesn't really take the game seriously. In the three rounds of the game, he’s chosen as mafia twice and, by total luck, wins both of them simply because his partner deceived the innocents.
Jaemin rides back to the house with a pack of Korean beef in his lap and a temporary crown of superiority sitting atop his inflated head. It occurs to him that upon the hustle and bustle of wrapping up filming, he didn’t see where you ran off to. He sums up why it means so much to say goodnight as wanting you to part ways with him being on your mind for the whole night yet that regret of not doing so only bonds you to his mind.
─────────────────────
“Hey, do you know what time y/n left? I didn’t see her at the end of the night and this is the fourth time she hasn’t said goodnight to me.”
“Why would she go out of her way to say goodnight to you, of all people?” Jeno chuckles. The safest driver of the five keeps his eyes on the road heading home while carrying on with their conversation. “You didn’t see her at the end because she left with Mark and he didn’t have to stay as long as I did waiting for you to– ”
Jaemin sits up suddenly. “She left with Mark?”
“Yeah, they’re going out for drinks– ”
“They’re WHAT?”
“-but it’s not like how you’re thinking of it! They’re just friends, Mark and I were talking about her earlier and he’s not into her like that. Haechan and Renjun might meet up with them later too so I don’t know if we’ll see them when we get back right now.”
“Ugh, inviting them but not inviting us? That’s just plain rude.”
“Welll… I was invited.” Jeno pulls into the garage and turns to face Jaemin. “I just knew that you’ll feel extremely lonely sitting at him by yourself.”
“What the fuck. Why wasn’t I invited?”
“I don’t know, maybe she didn’t want to be hit on all night.”
Jaemin shuts the door to the garage a little harder than he intended to as he heads inside. “She’s going to a bar. She’s going to be hit on no matter if I was invited or not.”
“True… but nobody at Neo Bar would be trying to get her number while also having been harassing her for weeks. She’s not gonna run into anyone creepier than you tonight.”
“ah-HA! So they’re at Neo tonight! Roger that.” Jaemin races up the stairs to throw on what he considers night-appropriate attire. Descending swiftly to swipe the car keys without tell his best friend, Jeno catches his arm in the doorway
“Argh…I can’t believe I’m saying this but if you’re going, I’m going with you,” Jeno concedes, sighing. He holds out his hand, motioning for Jaemin to hand over the car keys he took. “But I’m driving.”
…
Initially, when he and Jeno arrive at the scene, Jaemin is surprised to discover there’s a considerable number of patrons in and around the establishment, leading Jeno to remind him that the place is considered more of a rock club than it is a bar. He also mentions how the place is well known for being a hotspot that bands, songwriters, producers and all the alike frequent, which explains why even if it’s a Thursday night and a bulk of the people vibing to the music inside and scattered across the parking lot have jobs they need to show up bright and early for in the morning, they would hang around here to increase their chances of encountering someone famous within the industry.
The air is dense and smoky, its jumbled, incomprehensible chatter blending together. Various rock songs ranging from legends like The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC, to the newer rock bands that aren’t credited as household names yet, blare through Neo Bar’s speakers, engulfing the room in a nearly overwhelming state of chaos. They played a Bad Dreams song a half hour ago and you'd never seen Mark smile wider.
Beginning to elbow his way through the overgrown forest of people, Jaemin wonders about your drinking habits too. Are you the kind to not give a damn about potential hangovers the next morning or do you take precautions and limit your intoxication? He theorizes that a majority of the people he bumps into are hovering at a reasonable level of inebriation with the threat of work in the A.M. looming over the horizon of their foreseeable futures.
The setting reminds Jaemin of the painful, soul-souring memories he’d rather not hash out today, nor tomorrow, nor forever until the day he’s six feet under in an overpriced, wooden box. Jaemin presses onward in search of his elusive target, albeit feeling the faint ache in his chest resurfacing after four years of suppressing it.
“Hey, man, are you okay?” Jeno yells. Even in the low lighting, he notices Jaemin looking a bit gray around the gills. Jaemin nods and gives him a thumbs up, brushing off his visible discomfort and pretending like he doesn’t feel the walls shrinking inwardly with every step he adventures deeper into the tangled sweaty, compressed thicket.
They scour the stuffy, packed bar, seemingly going in circles until Jeno spots you and Mark in one of the very back corners. Your secluded nook leads up a handful of stairs to a platform with two wide lounge couches, slightly angled to face each other. There is enough room to fit all four of you comfortably if you double up on who's sitting next to whom. Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name" begins to play as the newcomers tread up the sturdy stairs to join you two, you and Mark get to your feet from the couch you were sharing.
You throw your head back, in one thick gulp downing the rest of the drink bought for you by some stranger who was hitting on you half an hour ago. At the time, it was when Mark was in the bathroom and you were picking up beers. He tried several slimy pick up lines on you, and, because he didn’t notice you came with someone, got the impression that you were here alone.
Honestly, it made you appreciate the way Jaemin speaks to you – not overtly predatory, but rather smooth and silky. Even if they both have the same end goal in mind, you don't feel as icky when Jaemin tries to sweet talk you.
You hiss as the alcohol sears your throat and the numbing heat bubbles within your chest. “What are you d-doing here?” you hiccup, poking Jaemin's toned chest.
He smiles fondly, finding your tipsy behavior both adorable and amusing. Unsurprisingly, he winks at you, and takes your hand into his the next time you try to poke his chest. Threading your fingers together, your clasped hands fall in between your bodies. He lightly swings them like it’s a natural occurrence for your hand to be enclosed in his larger one.
“Isn’t it obvious? I came to see you, princess.”
“Well what if I wanted a break from seeing you right now?” you pout. You half-heartedly try to pull away, making zero progress when he doesn't budge. Realizing, however, that it's quite comfortable and nowhere near as foreign of a feeling as you might've imagined it to be, you leave them conjoined.
“Well then I’d say you’re too drunk right now and can’t think straight.” Jaemin boops your nose out of nowhere and you giggle easily.
You tug him over to sit next to you on the vacant lounge chair that was reserved for Haechan and Renjun if they hadn't bailed. You plop down and Jaemin follows your lead. The limited space that the piece of furniture offers means that it is inevitable for your thigh to press against his. You slouch to the side in the opposite direction he’s sitting, leaning your upper body weight on your elbow against the armrest. You cup your chin in your hand and close your eyes momentarily to enjoy the buzz underneath your skin and vibrating off the walls.
In what feels like a minute later, it’s brought to your attention that you’re still holding hands with Jaemin. You can’t help but smile when you feel him draw gentle shapes into the back of your hand with his thumb. You subtly side glance at him. He’s wrapped up in a conversation about what to pack for next week’s highly anticipated departure.
“I’m not packing too much so my bag isn’t the one you need to worry about,” Jaemin tells someone.
“Yeah, because you store a lot of your stuff in my bag and you’re anti-pajamas,” Jeno inserts, before going down to fetch another round of drinks that neither you nor Jaemin plan on participating in – his reasoning being that he finds alcohol to be repugnant, both in terms of taste and the burn that ripples down his throat; and yours having to do with taking precaution against potential alcohol poisoning.
You haven’t even taken a single sip within the last few minutes, and yet, with each passing second, you feel further away from your physical form.
“Anti p-pajamas?” you hiccup.
“Yeah. I read that wearing pajamas to bed is bad for your health,” Jaemin smirks. He adjusts your hand's position, resting it in the middle of his thigh. “And because I care so much about my health, I sleep naked.”
“Oh,” you replied simply, sounding unimpressed.
You passively listen to them chatter about the upcoming tour and wearing the same outfits at the airport for no particular reason, before Jeno and Mark get up for something. You sit up straight, watching them put greater distance between themselves and you and Jaemin, then slump against your seat companion when you feel too dizzy to stay upright. He readjusts himself, shifting his entire body to be at an angle that would make you more comfortable. Lolling your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into the crook of his neck and hum dreamily. “So do I.”
“You do what?”
“Sleep naked,” you murmur, using your last spurt of energy to curl your legs up and mount his lap.
His hands circle around your middle, squeezing your love handles, possessively. Staring up at your shadowy face, his eyes light up with concern, piecing together that your mannerisms are too out of character for the fault to be placed on the alcohol alone. “y/n, how are you feeling right now?”
A small part of you knows that he’s trying to communicate with you but a faded numbness swallows the words on your tongue before they can leave your mouth.
“Hey, did you take something? You can tell me. I won’t judge, sweetie. I’ve definitely taken worse.”
"Hm?" You blink at him, disengaged and lethargic, failing to form sentences.
You fixate on his mouth where he subsequently performs your favorite habit of his: lightly licking at the corner of the seam of his lips with his indisputably talented tongue. You don't need him shove his tongue down your throat to know that. It's common knowledge.
In a daze, your vision blurs and you melt further into him. You unintentionally grind on Jaemin’s crotch, moaning softly from the pleasure that the friction provides. You do it again and again, still unaware of its origins, or that you are the culprit behind your own stimulation.
He licks his lips again, indecisively. On one hand, he wants you to continue grinding against his growing erection, making yourself feel good while he gets off to the sound of your airy noises – the noises that you don’t realize you’re letting slip from your mouth. But on the other hand, he’s growing increasingly worried about your lack of sobriety.
If you’re going to be on top of him, getting off on the feeling of his hard cock rubbing into your core, he wants it to be of your own free will. Jaemin wants you to choose to pleasure yourself in this scenario, not by compulsion from some substance strong enough to numb all of your senses and strip you of your agency. If he's ever given free reign to do whatever he pleases to your body, it's not going to be because you’re incredibly vulnerable and barely know what's happening, you are going to have to be the one to hand them over.
Properly translating your body language, Jaemin knits his eyebrows together and gathers his scattered thoughts. Your two friends reappear on the outskirts of the crowd. As they climb the stairs, they see what looks to be Jaemin guiding your severely inebriated frame to grind on top of him. The soft moans that spill from your gaping mouth absentmindedly go straight to their crotches.
"Jaemin, what the fuck, man?" Mark gestures at the blatant power imbalance going on here. His voice squeaks, embarrassed to be hearing something he feels like he shouldn't.
“Mark! Where did y/n get this drink from?”
Mark points a thumb over his shoulder towards the bar in which they returned from. “She went over to get us another round of drinks and, I don’t know, she just, like, came back with that one too. I'm pretty sure it was from some guy that was hitting on her earlier.”
To you, their voices sound like distant memories from a past life as you nod off into the clouds. Jaemin feels your muscles power down, your limp body collapsing on his, mobility reduced to paralysis.
“Fuck,” Jaemin curses. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, careful not to disturb you too much, despite that being impossible based on how far you’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole.
Going to the search engine app on his phone, he types out “roofied symptoms” into the search bar with one thumb. Clicking the first site to come up, Jaemin reads down the list, tightening his hold on you protectively when you match every bullet point’s descriptions.
“Wait, dude, what’s going on? Is y/n okay?” Mark staggers a bit closer, wobbling and almost falling over the edge of the platform but successfully making his way to the lounge couch miraculously.
Jaemin sits up a bit straighter, supporting your rag doll body against his. “No, she’s not okay. She’s been fucking drugged,” he spits out angrily.
“Ah, fuck… shit, I’m sorry, man. This is all my fault for not looking out for her when that one guy was hanging around. I should’ve warned her about the drink.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Just help me get her up,” Jaemin huffs impatiently.
Jeno springs into action, filling in for Mark who’s too far gone to be of much service whereas Jeno has taken a total of two sips from the liquid poison in his cup. Jeno helps drag your body up and off of Jaemin’s lap, propping you in between them temporarily until they’ve devised a course of action. They decide that it would be easier if Jeno is the one to carry you back to the car while Jaemin and Mark dig through the crowd in front of you two, clearing as much room as they can afford to get you out quickly and safely.
Setting you down in the back seat of his car, Jeno accidentally bumps your head into the door frame and when Jaemin climbs in to sit next to you, he kisses the newly bruised spot at a moment that Mark and Jeno aren’t looking his way. He clicks your seatbelt into place and settles your body against his side again. He angles his position to mirror the one he did inside to add to your comfort – which again, doesn’t matter since you can’t feel anything, but it means something to Jaemin so he does it anyway. Jeno gets into the driver's seat and Mark, the passenger seat.
It would be a different situation if one of them knew your phone passcode, but since they have no way of getting in contact with any friends or family member of yours, they figure the best and only option here is taking you home with them.
─────────────────────
The next morning, you awake to the smell of burnt toast.
You suspect that it’s nothing more than your roommate’s typical misfortune with anything involving food and rollover to get some extra, much needed shut eye. Your cheek hits the left side of the pillowcase and you instantly detect a different scented fabric softener instantly when sniffing the material
You shoot up out of bed in a panic. You don’t recognize the room and you have no recollection of the night or how you even got here. You squint your eyes, sensitive to the mid-afternoon sunlight pouring into the room from tall windows. Your throbbing head feels extremely heavy like a bowling ball and you press your palms to your temples, applying minimal pressure to try and relieve an ounce of the pain.
You stumble a bit, vision blurring and head spinning, prompting you to hop up and perch yourself on the corner of the relatively tall bed. Looking down at your legs, you realize you’re not wearing the jeans you picked out the previous evening. Instead, you’re dressed in dark blue and black plaid boxers and this is when the real panic sets in.
“Y/n? Are you, like, awake?” a stranger calls through the door. “I made breakfast!”
You snatch a selfie stick from the potentially dangerous man’s desk and wield it in two hands as if it were a formidable opponent weapon. Seeing the lock on the door is twisted to signify open, you leap towards it to prevent the stranger from allegedly harming you again. He swings the door open at the moment you lunge for the lock and your bodies collide. You knock him into the hallway, landing on the wooden floor smack dab on top of him.
“Ow… so I’ll take that as a sign you’re awake?” Mark wheezes.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Mark! I didn’t know where I was and who you were and I kind of freaked out.”
Hearing a loud thud, Jaemin rounds the corner of the hall. The scene he witnesses is one he would never have expected, your lips within inches of Mark’s for a moment before you unsteadily push off of his chest. The way Jaemin sees it, you appear elated to have an opportunity to straddle Mark’s waist. When you sit upright, he would even testify that you slightly roll your hips and grind on his crotch.
Not like it matters to him or anything.
He could not care less that you’re on top of someone that isn’t him. You could fuck anyone you wanted, including any of the band members.
Did he want to be the first rock star to make you come? Yes. But would he throw a fit over it? No. Besides, he erased the word “jealousy” from his vocabulary years ago. Jury's out on whether or not he’ll hold a grudge against Mark for a while, on the basis of bro code. Although, does bro code apply when you call dibs on someone in a non romantic context?
You roll off of Mark’s body. Attempting to get to your feet reminds you of your body’s limits and that you’re aching all over. You throw in the towel, giving up on standing this very second and crawl over to the wall to prop your back up against it. You squint up at Jaemin with a sour expression on your face which he initially believes is directed at him.
“Hey, would you please close the windows in there? It’s so fucking bright it hurts,” you ask nicely, throwing him off guard.
“Um, yeah, no problem.” Jaemin hops over you and Mark’s bodies still sprawled out in the hallway to close the flimsy curtains in Mark’s room, yet despite doing everything possible to block out the sun’s rays, the glow through the mostly transparent, white curtains remains an issue.
He remembers reading photosensitivity being a side effect that victims of the drug experience the next day, along with a few others that Mark and him deemed too worrisome to let you leave and deal with on your own for the time being. Right on cue you feel a wave of nausea hit you. Jaemin crouches down to thread his arms around your body as best he can and helps you to the bathroom quickly. In between your uses of the toilet, he folds up a shower mat and shoves it under your knees to cushion them against the tile.
Jaemin sits on the dusty floor of the bathroom with you, refusing to leave your side until you’re feeling well enough to get up.
He fills in the blanks for you about what happened the night before explaining how you were drugged and why they took you back to their house. You discover that the reason you’re wearing his boxer shorts is that one of the rowdy bar patrons had spilled most of their drink down your legs when they were on their way out. Jaemin said he washed your jeans so you wouldn't be able to tell where the wet stain on your jeans once was and you thank him. You will never tell a soul that after a few hours, you felt comfortable wearing something of his.
He almost jokes that that wasn’t the only “wet spot” he found on the material but bites his tongue because 1. he doesn’t know how uncomfortable you would be knowing that your arousal seeped through your underwear when you were subconsciously grinding on him and 2. you deserve a tiny break from his pick up lines and borderline occasional obnoxious flirting.
─────────────────────
“Wait, are we changing our clothes back there half way through the first show?” Jeno questions. He points into the shadows behind the black curtains.
“Dude. We’ve gone over this so many times already. It’s the right side, not the left,” Mark answers.
“So our right, right? Not their right?” Jeno looks over Mark’s shoulder at the empty space where raging fans are going to be swaying in a few hours.
“Yes. Wow, have you been paying attention at all?” Renjun scoffs. He scans the faces of the other few, searching for any stragglers that may have fallen behind on the concert protocol for their first show of the tour. All except one was up-to-date on the info. Jaemin was the only member staring off into the soon-to-be crowd with a blank look in his eyes.
Math was never Jaemin’s forte. In fact, he never graduated at all. It comes as no surprise to the band for him to have miscalculated how easily you’d cave and get on your knees without him saying a word.
He wouldn’t call it a full blown identity crisis but he has been second guessing who he’s become as of recent. He feels like he has lost his touch and what was once his specialty has been whittled down to a never ending struggle.
Why have you taken so long to win over? He thinks he is making progress, bit by bit chipping away at your thick defensive walls everyday especially after what happened last week at the bar and taking care of you after you got drugged. But has all the time he’s spent on you even worth it? You’re just one girl. He could’ve fucked +20 girls in the time span that he’s dedicated to breaking you. So how much longer is he going to try to get you naked and obedient?
Jaemin has a reputation to uphold and involuntary abstinence isn’t exactly something a womanizing bad boy rock star would stand for. The thing is, he doesn’t want to admit defeat; maybe it’s stubbornness or pride that’s driving him to double down on his dedication, a sunk-cost fallacy mentality driving him mad, but he doesn’t want to move on to someone that would easily spread their legs for him.
Jaemin wants you, and Jaemin always gets what he wants; he never plans on ruining that record.
The longer he’s waited, the more often he pictures folding your legs up just the way he wants them so he could easily guide his cock into your wet–
Renjun snaps his fingers in front of Jaemin’s dazed face. “Stop thinking about her.”
Jaemin blinks a few times. He didn’t even realize he had zoned out in the middle of the band’s mic check turned band meeting. “Hm? What? Thinking about who?”
“Come on, Jaemin. You know who I’m talking about.”
Mark skirts around the drum set and puts his hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. “For real, man. This is the longest I’ve ever seen you go without getting your dick wet. Two months is, like, forever to you.”
Jaemin gasps. “Has it really only been two months? I feel like I’ve known her longer than that.”
“Nope, it’s been two months. And in that time, you haven’t gotten anywhere.”
“What are you talking about? ‘Haven’t gotten anywhere,’” Jaemin says mockingly while doing air quotes with his hands. “Yes, I have.”
“Maybe a little, but it’s like you’re just harassing her now. You’d be lucky if she doesn’t get a restraining order against you when the tour is over,” Haechan jokes, mirroring Mark’s gesture to his shoulder.
Jaemin permits the invasion of his personal bubble by the first hand but swats Haechan’s away. “She wouldn’t do that.”
Mark exchanges glaces with the other band members. “Jaemin-”
“Don’t ‘Jaemin’ me,” he snaps.
“Fine. But after tonight, if she doesn’t budge, you need to give it a rest, okay? One last shot or she’s gonna feel like quitting.”
“Seriously? Does she talk about me? Did she tell you that?” Jaemin questions, mildly worried by the band's ultimatum.
“Well…no, she doesn't but-”
“Then how do you know what she’s feeling?”
“Jaemin, do you like her: yes or no?” Renjun puts him on the spot.
“Like her? You’re asking me if I like her? Ha!" Jaemin holds his stomach, forcing laughter that exactly -4 people are falling for. "What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because if you like y/n that’s a different story than just wanting to rail her in our dressing room.”
“How? And since when did that matter to you?”
"Argh! I'm tired of worrying about if the couch I’m sitting on backstage has your cum on it because you’ve hooked up with some random girl at every concert venue.”
“I have not–”
“Wait, you didn’t answer the question, Jaem,” Jeno points out.
“So? Why should I?!” Jaemin huffs, standing up and throwing his hands in the air.
“Any particular reason you guys don’t want your hair done tonight?” You step out into the light from the stage wing Jeno had been referring to beforehand.
You went looking for the band when they didn’t stop by to get their hair done on schedule. Every member’s attention shifts to you with noticeably startled faces and you begin to grow suspicious of the uncharacteristic silence since no one responds right away.
“What’s up? Nerves?”
“Nah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Haechan speaks up in the most even toned manner any of them can manage. “Hey, quick question, y/n. How long have you been there?”
“Like two seconds. Why?”
“Hmm, no reason. I was just…” Haechan looks back at Jaemin with a devilish smirk. “... just wondering.”
You smile questionably with a furrowed brow. “Okay, well when you’re done ‘just wondering’ can you five come backstage so I can actually do the job I was hired for?”
“Oh, you mean the job that Jaemin got for you? That sure was nice of him, wasn’t it?”
You make eye contact with Jaemin for a second, taking notice of his new lip piercing, before he looks away. “Um, yeah, I guess?”
The band follows your lead, moseying over to the stage exit, and you turn your head, missing when Jaemin elbows the loud mouth in the gut.
─────────────────────
For Bad Dreams' first show of the tour, the company instructed the stage director that they wanted the band to make a splash and there’s no doubt in your mind that the band will do just that. The makeup artist, your new friend Yeri, rim their eyes with black eyeliner and applied subtle, smoky eye shadow on each of them. By the looks of their attire, plus the cosmetic touch ups that accentuated their most prominent features, you’re positive every person who lays eyes on the band, whether in person or through fan filmed videos, would surely be drawn to them for more reasons than their music.
They all possess that rebellious, dangerous, bad boy rock star vibe despite being some of the most caring and down to earth guys you have ever met. Although, admittedly, out of the five, one of them was on a whole nother level of irresistible.
Jaemin wears a high fashion, ridiculously expensive jacket thrown over a paper thin black muscle tee. He has on dark jeans, paired with loosely tied black boots. But the highlight of his look tonight is his new annoyingly distracting double loop lip ring, intentionally bringing more attention to his sweet red mouth by sucking on a cherry lollipop.
The only thing left to tie it all together is in your department. Through your employment with the company, you have grown to admire the lengths he’s gone to at times to try and get his way. He’s brought you beverages, praised you with endless compliments, paid for all of your food, offered to take you on what he calls “friend dates” like the kind he claims to have asked you out on the first evening you met.
Every time he has asked, you have declined, electing not to spend too much alone time with Jaemin. There have been a little over a half dozen times where you happened to be alone together and you don't dread them. You worry about how attached you could grow to him (and inside refuse to acknowledge that you already have grown quite attached). When it’s just you and Jaemin, those moments tend to be sincere and vulnerable and caring and you hate that you like it. You hate that you like it because it’s him.
So recently, you've made the effort to guarantee that at least a few other band members will be there. Whether it’s grabbing food, getting drinks, going to the movies or other concerts, he has practically fought to claim the seat or space next to yours.
It’s similar to the attention you feel like he expects from every girl he encounters. For better or for worse, you expect that attention from Jaemin on any given day that you see him on the job or off the clock.
The volume of that once immutable little voice in the back of your head that used to scream “No! Don’t trust him! Don’t fall for his charm! Don’t end up like the others eating out of the palm of his hand!” has become nothing but an echo as time has rolled on, dialed lower and lower the longer you have been around him and further silenced with every tiny “accidental” touch of his hand on your arm, shoulder, or waist.
It hurts your head to think about what would happen if you break that little policy of not getting involved with clients. After all, he is still kind of your client, right? He got you this job and his boss signs your paychecks, but then again, you still perform a service and, in return, receive payment for completing said service.
Some may consider you two coworkers, and if that’s the case, it is debatable whether that violates some other policy you should expediently draw up and write into your moral constitution as soon as you get some alone time.
The ambiguity of your relationship to each other has never been louder than the present and both of you can hear it ringing in your ears. The blurry, gray area between client and colleague, quick fuck and genuine friend has grown thicker while the time to clear the air ticks by.
Your mind races, calculating the unpredictability. Who knows how long Jaemin will be bending over backwards to treat you like a princess? In the period that you have known Jaemin, you have learned that he yo-yos between highs and lows quite frequently. When you take that trait of his into consideration, it is not too far-fetched to assume that he could wake up tomorrow and be done with you within the drop of a hat.
“Hey, we’ll be waiting for you out back. Try not to take too long with your hair and, you know… anything else,” Jeno tells him, peeping back into the small dressing room on his way out. He winks before closing the heavy door and leaving you two alone.
You giggle, noticing Jaemin throwing daggers at where the newly departed guitar player had been standing in the doorway. He pretends that he doesn’t feel his face and the back of his neck prickling with heat, but he can’t as easily hide his rosying cheeks when his best friend bid you adieu suggestively.
“Care to explain what that means, Jaemin?”
“Out back? Oh, sometimes a few of them like to smoke a little to calm the nerves before a set.” Jaemin gestures at the door nonchalantly. “Just one or two hits, no big deal. Not enough to mess with how we play.”
“Duly noted. But you know that’s not what I meant.”
You get to work with his hair, combing a few strands then curling them a certain way for a few seconds on low heat to keep the sculpted hair in place. The band has never performed a full set list of songs live and in concert since the time you have been styling their hair. You’re concerned about how well your handiwork and the hair product will be maintained as the sweaty, high spirited show progresses.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, I know, princess.” Jaemin tilts forward to toss the lollipop away in the small trash can under the vanity, leaving his mouth cherry tinted red.
You sigh at his laissez-faire attitude, nevertheless dropping it because you know pressing him for an answer won’t get you anywhere. Jaemin has never been the kind to share anything he doesn’t want to, leading you to believe this is not a superficial topic.
You’re slightly ashamed to admit it but eventually, after all the personal questions he threw at you about your life, in the vulnerable moments when it was just you and him, you’ve let loose most of the details from your upbringing, your childhood dreams and where you hope to see yourself in 10 years. This job is great and all, but in the grand scheme of things, you would like to be your own boss someday and have a popular salon much like the one he met you in.
You have come to terms with the fact that his engagement in a public setting is very lax and withdrawn. Although, in a different context, he’s all ears during one-on-one conversations with you and (for the most part) band discussions. Jaemin practices his good listening skills more often than you would like him to when it comes to just you and him conversing. He’s the one to ask questions and listen intently whereas when you broach the subject of his intimate details about him and his own life, he changes the topic.
“Nevermind then…” The room goes quiet for a moment as you ponder the answer he gave you instead of the truth.
“What’s on your mind, babe?”
“Babe?”
“Yes, princess?” Jaemin has that playful grin of his spread across his lips, predictably.
You roll your eyes, but fail to hide your smile. “Ugh, shut up. Don’t play dumb with me.”
“Why? What if I told you I like playing with you?” He raises an eyebrow and the grin morphs into a cocky smile.
His smiles are always different from yours, like he knows something you don’t. They vary on a daily sliding scale, representing how straightforward he will (or will not) be with his pickup lines or flirty zingers. Some of the most flirty are accompanied by a wink…which he gifts you 2 seconds after.
Typical Jaemin.
Always looking for another way to get under your skin with suggestive comments, and then subsequently, your clothes.
“Well then I’d say I don’t want to play any of your little games.”
“Hmm and why’s that? Afraid I’ll win?”
Yes.
Cotton mouthed and out of responses to his flirty remarks, you stall for time by purposely knocking over a can of hairspray that lands on your foot. Tonight, you unintentionally picked out a pair of boots that are relatively similar to Jaemin’s and thick enough to make it so a can of hairspray won’t hurt the top of your foot. Your outfit has the same amount of layers as his but when you got dressed, you didn’t account for how cold it would be backstage. The band would be performing and in the midst of a rock concert, their body temperatures would predictably be leaning towards the warmer side.
At first, when you stand up and Jaemin sees you shiver, he thinks your involuntary movement is owed to him. It takes him a moment to identify your reaction is temperature based and not from a lustful desperation flowing through you. He’s not exactly wrong in his assumption, but the frigid cold is a tad more apparent to your senses than the throbbing between your legs.
He springs up and slides his leather jacket off the back of the chair without second thought.
“Here, put this on.”
“Oh, no thank you, I’m good,” you respond before flicking your chin back at the chair. “Now, sit back down so I’m not blamed for making you late…please.”
“I’m not sitting down until you put on my jacket,” Jaemin pouts. “You’re obviously cold.”
You sigh again, this time with a slight frustration. “Come on, Jaemin. You’re being immature.”
“Not until you put on the jacket.” He folds his arms, holding his ground like a stubborn child.
“Seriously, I’m fine. Don’t worry about m-”
Within the blink of an eye Jaemin quickly steps around you, holding the jacket open for you to slip into it. He makes eye contact with you in the reflection of the mirror like he has done countless times while you’re supposed to be concentrating on his hair and not falling for his alluring eyes.
“I’ll always worry about you.”
You hold your arms out wordlessly, feeling the butterfly wings in your abdomen flutter up in your chest as your heart grows warmer. The tiny acts of kindness and those moments when it feels like he truly cares about you are worth more than every cup of overpriced coffee he has ever purchased for you without asking your favorite order. After drink three he knew exactly what you wanted and depending on the weather, he would get you your favorite drink for the outside conditions because he knew your preferences so well.
I guess you could say he knows you so well.
“i-uh… thank you, babe,” you mumble mindlessly before realizing how you referred to him. Your eyes pop open in disbelief. “I mean Jaemin! Thank you, Jaemin.”
“Nope, no take-backsies! You said it yourself!” he sing-songs pleasantly.
Your mistaken term of endearment has a joy blossoming on Jaemin’s face that can only be compared to the moment you accepted the job offer he extended to you weeks ago.
He settles into the chair with a new found happiness that he hasn’t felt in months. It’s strange that one word made him light up like a christmas tree, one accidental word — and from a target, no less. Or someone who was supposed to be a target. But when he’s happy, he tends not to question it too much so as to not ruin the moment.
Jaemin knows all too well that true contentment is fleeting. Reality is cruel and brutal. Nothing lasts forever and no one knows what the future holds for us. Throwing around a word like “forever” with such certainty would only be done by someone naive enough to believe that those seven letters hold weight behind them.
Someone once made a promise to him, sealing their intimate bond with a short kiss. From there, it’s pretty easy to put two and two together and figure out that it was the word he resented most to this day. She had dragged him to a club overflowing with people, comparable to the one he rescued you from and it, too, had an abnormally rowdy crowd. They were at the bar, squished together because of how packed the place was. She was directly behind him when she leaned in close to his ear, whispering at a volume that prevented him from understanding the entire message. The only part he could catch over the pulsating music clogging the air was “-and forever” he turned his head just enough to get one last kiss from her – a kiss he didn’t realize was their last.
When he fully turned around, his first love, the person he envisioned marrying and having kids with and buying a house together that had a white picket fence, had already disappeared into the sea of sweaty bodies without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again. She completely ghosted him and he couldn’t find any way to get in contact with her again.
Nowadays, even if it’s someone he trusts more than anyone in the world, if they promise to do something and use the word forever, he automatically grows skeptical. It takes him a moment to rationalize that even if there are circumstances in which he needs to keep a watchful eye out for people he thinks may betray him, his bandmates don’t fall under that umbrella.
The promise of forever means nothing and the sooner you realize it, the better your chances are for warding off potential heartbreaks. As soon as a sense of fulfillment and pure joy is within your grasp, reality could yank it away within the blink of an eye.
You wish that it would work to hold what’s most valuable against your chest with all your might, whether that be a physical object or person, period in time, or sentimental, deep feeling in your bones. But unfortunately, there are incidents where someone might hold onto their single valuable too tight, squeezing it close for security purposes but with such increased pressure that it bursts.
Jaemin has been staring off into space for the last two minutes while you sculpt his tousled hair to perfection. He flinches away from where you’re standing, not realizing this whole time that you had been standing half in front of him and half to his left side, leaning forward.
It’s easier for you to lightly spray his hair from this stance and you were surprised he didn’t sense your presence so close to his before you first used the product in your hand.
“Do you smoke?” you curiously question the daydreamer out of nowhere. “You said they went out to smoke so I was wondering.”
“Uh…over the past two weeks, not as much,” Jaemin answers. By the tone in his voice, you’d bet big money that he’s holding back any follow up explanation on purpose. “I’m trying not to like multiple times a day like before.”
“hmm…why’s that?”
His eyes wander around the room, considering whether it is best to hold his tongue or share something about himself. He settles on trusting you for what he thinks is no particular reason. It's only fair to answer your question to the fullest extent since you have divulged so much of your life to him over the past few weeks.
“My mom. She-” Jaemin takes a short pause and you patiently wait for him to continue whenever he feels comfortable to do so. “-doesn’t want me to.”
You laugh briefly, interpreting it as a joke. “You still follow all your mom’s rules?”
“Well, I guess it’s not really a rule, she just worries about me a lot. And one of the things I can do to kind of give her some peace of mind is to quit smoking- or at a minimum, smoke less than before.” Jaemin shrugs like it is no big deal that he finally released some personal details about himself.
“Oh, um,” you clear your throat uncomfortably when he answers your playful question with an unexpectedly serious answer. “Sorry for laughing. Uh, so your family must mean a lot to you, yeah?” You withdraw your statement when you sense Jaemin’s hesitation to answer more of your curious, lighthearted interrogation trying to get to know him even the tiniest bit better. “Hey, I don’t mean to pry! It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”
You pivot away from him but he grabs your wrist gently. “It’s okay, y/n.” His lips prick up in a lopsided smile thinking about his family. “My family means everything to me. Everything I do, I do to support them. I’m determined to buy them a house nearby so they can live a little closer to me.”
“How often do you see them?”
A sorrowful sigh leaves his lips and you relax your hand to let him slip his fingers between yours. “I barely see them anymore. But I hope that changes when they move here into the city.”
You give his hand an encouraging squeeze to comfort him. “I’m sure you can make it work, Jaemin.”
It is safe to say that only a handful of people know these little things about the rock star’s private life which is why you can’t figure out why your name is being added to that exclusive list. They were mere morsels about his private life that he keeps guarded and close to his heart and he still shared them with you.
“I hope so.” He offers you a soft smile, looking up at you with only pure admiration swimming in his eyes, absent of the daily lust and raw desire he usually wears. Seemingly staring into your soul and yet you don’t feel uncomfortable about it.
If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind it in the slightest getting lost in them forever and ever.
“Jaemin! I’m sorry but we have to go!” Mark calls through the door urgently.
He tears his mesmerizing eyes from yours and raises his voice to project it through the door. “Just a minute!”
“Dude, I’ve already stalled 5 minutes for you! We need to go! Like, now!”
Jaemin looks back to you, but your body has curled away from his already, the intimate moment nothing more than a shriveled up fantasy he’s been imagining for far too long.
“You should go,” you tell him as you begin to pack up the rest of your things.
“Princess, i– ”
“Seriously, go. You shouldn't be late for the first concert of your first tour.”
“Y/n, look at me,” Jaemin says softly, trying to get your attention in the reflection of the mirror. Despite being pressed for time, he waits until he captures your eyes again.
“I don’t care about being late for you, y/n.”
You sigh, closing your eyes for a few seconds then returning what he waited patiently for. “But I do. I do care, Jaemin. And I don’t want to make you late.”
“Will I see you at the after party?” He slightly pouts seeing your hesitant expression. “I really want you there.”
“I don’t know, I think–”
Jaemin steps around the chair and stands directly behind you to plead his case before you turn him down for good. He correctly guesses that he can silence you by pressing his body to yours. His bulge is hardening by the second protruding into your ass. To balance out the sexual nature of the moment, he slinks his arm under yours to slip his hand into yours.
“Please? It’s called The 127. And, lucky for us, it’s right across the street. The company rented the place for the night so it’s a private party…no one to try anything with you, I promise.”
“I’ll…” you start. It takes all your effort to suppress a moan when you part your lips and he grinds against you briefly. “...think about it.”
“Okay, I’ll see you there.” Jaemin smiles brightly and squeezes your hand. At last, he pulls away from you and opens the door, albeit, against his will.
“Hey, I didn’t say–”
“Wish me luck!” he says. Jaemin closes the door behind him only to yank it open and poke his head.
“What are you doing?! Go!”
“No, wait. Aren't you supposed to say something about my leg?”
You sigh heavily and roll your eyes. “Break a leg, Jaemin!”
He hums in approval, giving you a wink. “Thank you, princess.”
Jaemin leaves the dressing room excited for what’s to come (or should he say, who’s to come) later tonight, whereas you are left behind with an important decision to make and pulsating sexual frustration.
─────────────────────
You were previously acquainted with The 127’s neon green sign prior to your reluctant crossing of the street to the band’s after party. It is impossible to miss the huge letters, large enough to catch anybody’s attention during the day. After the sun has gone down, the borderline blinding fluorescent flashing draws late night enthusiasts like a moth to a flame.
The long line wraps around the corner of the club. You're vaguely familiar with club culture and feel underdressed standing next to people in designer clothes and girls in cocktail dresses from brands you can’t afford. Yeri loaned you some high heels to make your outfit look somewhat more glitzy, but after ten minutes, you regret accepting her offer.
“Name and ID card?” the lanky-bodied security guard recites for nearly the 400th time at The 127’s entrance. His bored eyes don’t leave the clipboard, awaiting whoever intends to join Bad Dreams' party inside to give their name so he can check the typed out sheet of paper listed with executives and famed members of the industry before physically seeing them. In his mind, it saves time, but in practice, it’s not the best idea.
“Jisung, you’ve known me for over 6 weeks.”
His head pops up. “Oh, y/n! Sorry, I still have to ask the people that aren’t on the VIP list no matter what and I was told I'd be fired even if it was my mom.”
“Fired? Seriously?”
The boy who was hired specifically because he was tall, despite lacking a single intimidating bone in his body, looks down at the board again. “Shit, I forgot Jaemin put you on the VIP list.”
“He did?”
“Hurry the fuck up, bitch!” some guy barks from the sea of people waiting to be let into the party.
“Language, Jisung!” a voice scolds him.
He flinches when Jaemin appears out of thin air by his side. The drummer had been hovering just past the entrance at the top of the staircase, hoping you would actually show up after the sold out concert. Coming down the stairs from a different perspective, he had seen what the rude man looked like unlike you and the younger security guard.
Jaemin holds out his hand and you hesitate for a moment. “Come on, hurry the fuck up, princess,” he mocks the man quietly so only you and Jisung can hear it. His charming smile returns to his face when you give in and clasp it in his hand. Jisung unlatches the velvet leash, receiving a detailed description of the man brazen enough to yell something so crude at you, and is given instruction to refuse the man entry no matter how high up or important he claims to be in the company, or the entire industry, for that matter.
Jaemin leads you up the stairs and into the afterparty. The club doesn’t play rock like the band does; instead it blasts electrifying edm music, thumping so powerfully that the club itself quakes. Your heart beats rapidly, pounding through your chest, as the music rumbles through you. It has a bass that pumps the clubbers up for nothing in particular but to dose them with an elated feeling on the dance floor. Lively hordes of people occupy the spacious lower level, swaying and grinding on each other to the intoxicating music. Even sober individuals experience what mimics true inebriation in the middle of a boisterous throng of clubbers.
The massive double-floored club has what you count to be five separate VIP lounges on the top floor, similar to Neo Bar but clearly more exclusive and costly. Each posh VIP area flaunts luxurious furnishing with four cushioned, crescent-shaped couches and two circular tables in the middle of them. Strip of LED lights, controllable by remote, ring the secluded spaces and the tables. Most importantly, each individual space has a canopy hanging overhead and curtains close around the whole area if someone wants privacy for whatever reason.
The air is ripe with lust and promiscuity and you catch Jaemin looking at you like pure fruit ready to be picked from the vine when you arrive at one of the premier lounges. His eyes are glossy with a look of longing.
“Have you been drinking?” you ask cautiously once you sit down.
Jaemin takes a seat next to you. Maybe it’s the fact that the wide couches here give you more space but where Jaemin sits is not as close to you as the last alcohol distributing establishment and you have mixed feelings about that. “Me? No, I don’t really drink.”
“Oh, I feel like…” You look at the ceiling trying to recall something.
“You feel like what?” Jaemin asks.
“I feel like I remember that for some reason.”
Jaemin clears his throat and ignores your statement. “So do you want me to get you something to drink? I promise I won’t drug you.”
Your eyes bounce around the noisy place in search of potential danger instead of laughing at what Jaemin phrases like a joke. “No, I’d rather stay sober this time. Sober sounds...safe tonight.”
Looking noticeably wary, Jaemin gets to his feet to close the curtains and block your view of the club. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, trust me.” He takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to place the most tender of kisses on your knuckles. You feel the metal of the new piece of jewelry on his lower lip touch your skin.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, when did you get your lip pierced? I saw you yesterday morning so did you go last night or this morning or something?”
“Hmm, very observative, princess. I went last night but I feel like not many people have pointed it out… have you been staring at my lips often?”
“Hm, not as much as you stare at mine.”
“So you admit it.”
“What?”
“You do stare at my lips,” Jaemin catches your slip up, smiling triumphantly.
You roll your eyes and try to play it off. “Well, um, why does it matter if I look at your lips? Especially right now! Because I’m just wondering if your lip ring gets in the way of eating or, you know, like, kissing or something.”
“I can eat and drink perfectly fine, but thanks for your concern, it means a lot,” Jaemin replies, putting his hand over her chest like he was sincerely touched. “As for kissing, I don’t know. When would I have had the time to hook up with someone since then?”
“Oh, right, right. I didn’t think about that.”
Your eyes bounce around the closed off, private booth, searching far and wide for distractions in the relatively small place. Despite your efforts though, your eyes find his lips again.
“Do you want to find out with me?”
“What, find out if your lip piercing gets in the way?” You gulp.
“M’hmm. You’re the only one I want for it. Will you help me?”
You bite your own bottom lip, silent and still as stone for a moment before nodding a tiny bit. Jaemin slowly inches himself out of the slumped position he was sitting in. His dilated pupils are trained on your mouth like they always tend to be when you two are within this close of proximity. You follow his pace, leaning in closer to his face, drawn to his lips and the thought of how amazing it must feel to have the taste of heaven on your tongue.
Gravitating towards each other is natural, a magnetic pull that you were resisting, afraid you would be stuck on him if he left you for some other girl. You both close your eyes, bracing for the highly anticipated impact…that doesn’t happen as misfortune strikes for the second time tonight.
Alas, the world has other plans, and this untimely wrench in Jaemin’s plan comes in the form of nasally voices from whiny, obsessive, radically invasive teenage girls yapping shamelessly through the blood red curtains.
“Jaemin? Jaemin! Hi! Can we please get your autograph?!”
“Yeah, pretty, pretty please!”
“Sorry for bothering you, we’re just, like, totally your biggest fans!”
You jerk back as if you had seen a ghost, petrified by the thought of what it could have meant for you two if there wasn’t a disruption.
Did you want there to be a disruption?
Jaemin irritatedly snaps his tongue as he storms across the small space to stop their assault of the curtains surrounding the you guys for privacy by their persistent, aggressive shaking back and forth to get his attention.
If you based your assumption on how he would speak to them solely on his facial expressions when he got up, you might have expected him to yell at the crazed fans who snuck inside not only the after party but the VIP section as well. You should have known that that isn’t who he is.
How well do you believe you know Jaemin anyways?
He looks back at you as if asking for your permission to step outside of the curtains and you gesture for him to go with a smile like you’re not feeling wary of his character. There is a good chance that it is just paranoia since you feel nervous being in a place like this again and you don’t want to be left alone. He’ll be back soon though so you shouldn’t be alone for very long.
You know Jaemin has more than a few tricks up his sleeve but, based on how enthralled the trespassers had been from simply breathing the same air as him, it’s clear that he could do the literal bare minimum. They hang onto his every word like they will need to recite it by heart when they leave – if they ever leave at all.
He has a wide collection of ways he can select from his arsonal of charms. To name a few, starting off at the basic, beginners level, these techniques vary from flashing his pearly whites, sweet talking in either a compassionate or suggestive tone, and skinship with light touches here or there to make them think of his fingers on (and in) other places of their bodies.
The unhinged girls begin taking frantic pictures with him the second Jaemin steps through the curtain. Taking turns amongst themselves with who holds their belongings, who is taking the pictures and who gets to be by his side.
Jaemin stands there awkwardly, knowing they want more from him but quickly deciding that you were more important than taking his 50th picture with any of them. He holds his hand up to say goodbye but before he can return to the VIP space with you, a strict hand catches his wrist to stop him forcefully.
You haven’t the faintest clue what’s going on outside and that the person who caught his wrist meant serious business. You scroll through twitter, becoming engrossed in threads that usually pose no interest to you but that’s how badly you want to be distracted. The time in which Jaemin has been gone feeds your growing skepticism so you get up to go and peek through the curtains at what is taking him so long.
The person who had grabbed Jaemin’s wrist beforehand was gone. And so are the girls.
And so is Jaemin.
You slip through the curtains to investigate, but it doesn’t take a genius detective to find where they had run off to. Jaemin is sitting on the couch three VIP spaces done from yours, in the same exact place he had been in with you. But you're not the one sitting next to him, it was the three girls from before. They curl up around his body, one girl on either side and one straddling his lap. The two girls at his sides have their cleavage signed with his autograph and you can only assume that the one on top of him does too. You spot some sleazy photographer taking pictures of them from afar and you almost go and stop him but don’t have it in you to care right now.
Mark happens to be walking by when he sees you. “Hey, y/n! How’s it go-” He stops in his tracks and you both momentarily stare at the scene in shock.
And there you have it. The answer to your previous question.
You know who he is – or you knew who he is, as in past tense. Your past self knew him but the person you became, the person you are today, wanted to see further than that with which you saw on day one.
You were afraid of becoming another victim to the serial heartbreaker yet ignored every sign because you wanted to feel wanted. It’s sad that you had to be reminded by being a first hand witness to him hooking up with three girls at once.
Happening right before your very eyes, you immediately question how he could so easily revert back to his ways when the opportunity arises but you correct yourself. He can’t revert back to something if he never changed in the first place. Old habits die hard.
Disappointment and regret swallow you whole. You should have known this was coming. The moment he exposed his true nature once again, even after the vulnerability he expressed to you; even after disarming you of all hesitancy for letting him into your life; even after stealing all those intimate moments with you when you were alone together, the ones that lasted a mere few seconds but felt like an eternity.
There was always an ulterior motive that you were too blinded by a foolish longing to see.
This is not the first time you’ve been burned for wearing your heart on your sleeve. You thought you had learned your lesson the last time, swearing from that point on that you will lock your heart up in an iron chest and hide away the key until someone truly worthy of your affections comes along.
[ Enter Jaemin ]
The boy you instantly identified as danger in a leather jacket, trouble with a capital T, swoon-worthy charm embedded in his DNA and three things on his mind: music, getting high and sex.
Despite intending to heed the warnings of his past leftovers, you personally stitched a bright red heart into the vulnerable material on your arm – cherry red, just like his favorite flavor.
You bear the brunt of this fucked up situation. You’ve been a chew toy for him to chase for weeks now, probably for him to pass the time and entertain or distract himself, since he doesn’t particularly like leaving the house in the day-time without good reasoning. For someone so introverted and radio silent amongst most strangers, Jaemin can surely pull off a convincing personable attitude when he puts in the effort. Eventually, at some point along the way, his efforts dedicated to breaking you down began to work more effectively than you care to admit.
You watch Jaemin lounging on his mock throne, charming the trio of younger fans and being worshiped like a sex god, for what might as well be forever. You finally tear your eyes away from the inappropriate physical display when one of the girls grabs his face and forcibly pulls him into a kiss.
The one that was supposed to be your kiss.
You were supposed to be the first girl to feel the metal of his new lip ring on your lips. So much for “You’re the only one I want for it.”
Mark asks if you want him to accompany you across the street to pack up your styling tools and belongings but you politely decline. Your lungs sting, suffocating on the atmosphere's smoky lust that drives people to make bad decisions, and maybe, like in Jaemin's case, just show their true colors.
Adrenaline sends you hurdling to the club entryway alone, more alone than you’ve felt in a really long time. You expect Jisung to be at the front, manning his post per usual. You're kind of hoping to talk to him about the whole situation. Finding out that he's absent is just another example that proves to you that life is disappointing and you shouldn't be surprised something you wanted ultimately didn't work out.
You stumble out of the building onto the empty sidewalk in front of The 127. Kicking off your high heels, it occurs to you that you didn't even feel that your feet had been hurting the entire time you were in the club. You were too immersed in the moments, the good and alternatively, the bad and ugly.
Your cheeks are no stranger to tears when it comes to relationships. Wiping your nose with the back of your hand that Jaemin kissed, you question if this...whatever you have with him even falls under the category of relationship in any way, shape or form. If only you had left things as they were before, no complications with the messy feelings or worrying about if he was fucking other girls. You wouldn’t be crying if you had only trusted your gut from the very start. You wouldn’t be in pain, nor would you have been torturing yourself for putting yourself in harms way like you are right now.
It's devastating to know that it turns out your heart isn’t as durable as you thought it was this time around. At the end of every heart break, you pick up the shards of broken glass that encased your fantasy of true love. You’ve thrown yourself into relationships, loving madly and deeply too fast and having your expectations held far too high for what the future holds with you and your significant other.
Perhaps you have no clue what true love is; therefore, making whatever it is you're searching for impossible. If you knew what true love is you wouldn’t have imagined a future where Jaemin’s name just might have pricked the surface of your definition.
It was a pitiful, pathetic, naive runaway idea that you wish you could drown in a river of your tears.
─────────────────────
“What-” Jaemin takes his fifth deep breath within the last half hour. He rubs both of his blood shot eyes with the heels of his palms, red from frustration and borderline tearing up instead of relapsing and being high. “What did she see, Mark?”
“Dude, like the entire thing. You weren’t exactly being subtle about that shit you were doing!”
“That was the point!” Jaemin waves his hands erratically as if the theatrics today in the first hotel they’ll be staying at of the tour will save you from misunderstanding the situation last night. “And you didn’t defend me at all?!”
“No?! How was I supposed to know that the company was, like, going to forcibly make you look like Bad Dreams' party animal playboy to keep up the reputation, huh? No one told me about that!”
Mark looks around at the rest of the band who share similar expressions to the leader. Jaemin flops down in the chair adjacent to Mark who's sitting on the second queen bed, refusing to make eye contact with him.
Jeno stands up to go sit next to the inconsolable drummer. “Jaemin, they didn’t tell any of us that they were going to ask you to-”
“Force. I think the word you’re looking for is force, not ask."
“-okayyy, going to force you to hang around those girls and make it look like you were drinking and going to hook up with them.”
“It shouldn’t have mattered if they told you or not! You guys know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do that!”
“Jaemin, I can’t even count the number of times I’ve seen you in that position or something like it with two hands," Haechan inserts.
“Hey, don’t act like you haven’t done the same thing!"
“I haven’t done something like that since I got a girlfriend months ago!”
Jaemin gets to his feet and gestures at Haechan. “Exactly! A girlfriend! Why would I do something like that if I had y/n?”
“Had y/n? You literally told us-” Renjun checks his watch for the time, calculating the number of hours since the band’s last discussion involving Jaemin’s behavior. “-21 hours ago you claimed you didn’t even like her!”
Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I never said I didn’t like y/n.”
“So you do like y/n then?" Mark pressures him for the answer he's apprehensive to broach in his mind just yet.
“I- well, um, y-you know, can we not talk about this right now?”
Haechan climbs onto one of the two queen mattresses and pulls the comforter to his chin. “I agree! Be quiet and let me nap or my voice will suck tonight!”
The band disperses and Mark pulls Jaemin aside to talk to him in the hotel hallway. “Look, man, I’m sorry I didn’t stop y/n. Let me try and talk to her, okay?”
“What could you possibly say to y/n that would make her change her mind?”
Mark shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, I’ll think of something. But you should give her some space until after the concert. ”
Jaemin sighs, again. “Okay, fine.”
─────────────────────
When Mark knocks on your hotel room door and says it’s something serious, Yeri leaves the room to give you and Mark some privacy.
You expect him to be checking up on you after seeing how distraught you were last night but you haven’t exactly been the best judge of character. He shares Jaemin’s side of the story, where the man who Jaemin told Jisung not to let in was a big time CEO of some foreign broadcasting service you’re not familiar with, and when Jisung was interrogated about who told him not to let such an important figure inside, they threatened to fire him. Jisung really needed this job, he admitted it was Jaemin.
The company had been looking for a reason to stir up some gossip with the band again with their second album release and the tour. Jaemin is known for being a womanizer, sculpting himself a reputation amongst the industry and the fans. They didn’t want him to change. The bad boy heart breaker role was his position in the band.
When he said no, they threatened to cancel the whole tour because if the band wasn’t meeting the company’s revenue quota, the band would be put on the furthest back burner he can imagine. Basically, he was told that the band is expendable. If he wanted to make up for his mistake, he would stir up some publicity and garner attention to the band, ergo making the company more money in the long haul.
You hear him out before giving him your interpretation of the sequence of the events and how with Jaemin it feels like he has always been emotionally distant, leading you on with meaningful conversations and then pulling a 180, returning back to the fuck boy you pegged him as.
Jaemin is never going to change. You need to stop pretending like you can save him from the shameless egotistical persona that he let consume him from top to bottom along the course of his time as a cocky artist. Even if Mark claims that he wasn’t always like this, you provide a detailed analysis for him to understand why it shouldn’t be your job to put him back together if you’re only hurting yourself in the process. Nowhere in your employee contract does it say “revive Jaemin’s frozen heart.” You weren’t hired to fix him.
Never having been in a relationship, or anything that even resembled a relationship, Mark didn’t have much to offer except one observation. “Dude, you know what? I’ve never seen such bad miscommunication between two people before you and Jaemin.
You roll your eyes and continue talking like he didn't just say something that’s going to keep you up at night. Mark knows it’s not his place to force his opinions on you, especially because he’s biased to the person you dread working with. All he can convince you of is talking to Jaemin after the concert today.
“What’s the harm in, like, one talk, y/n? At the very least, you’ll get closure and tell him never to talk to you again…what do you think, man? You in?”
You start at your shoes, deep in thought. You have been trying to convince yourself he doesn’t matter until eventually, at some point in time, you’ll fall for it and be tricked into getting over him. The opportunity for closure sounds like a good place to start. Reset your feelings for Jaemin to factory settings – he’s just a client, not even coworkers because he’s not on par with where you stand.
“One talk. That’s it.”
─────────────────────
You underestimated how difficult it would be doing Jaemin’s hair when all he does is stare at you and watch every move you make observantly. To ensure that Jaemin leaves the dressing room as soon as possible and doesn’t say a peep to you during his turn, you do his hair first so that the rest of the band is there with you two.
As appealing as it sounds to remove yourself from the situation and put at least a mile between you and the sex addict, you can’t do that right now. You have a job to do and you intend on carrying out your duties diligently, no matter if you’ve started to silently wish that you had the ability to snap your fingers and teleport out of the room right now.
There's a vague sense of guilt weighing on your shoulders, reflecting on how ungrateful of your position it sounds when admitting you wish you could disappear into thin air. It would be wildly irresponsible to abandon your obligation to that one specific band member with no notice given to a single soul, all because of personal qualms.
You feel relatively lucky to have been given this opportunity to work in the big leagues. Through networking at the company, you have met other stylists and received pointers on things you hadn’t thought of before. Beauty school was one thing, but being a hairdresser turned stylist was a little daunting at the start. Learning from the big names in the styling business has been a privilege.
In contrast to that chunk of positive energy embodying “luck” and “hope” there’s a larger part of you that doesn’t think you deserve the praise, skeptical about how you got the job in the first place. You consider yourself a good hair stylist but, honestly, if it wasn’t for Jaemin, you never would have encountered a chance to join a company like this, a stepping stone to gain experience on your own personal journey to pursuing your dreams.
You need to remind yourself that you are working towards that. Your own dreams and the trajectory of your life are at stake. There’s no question about whether you would leave the company and undergo the tedious process of early contract termination. You would endure far worse than the insufferable playboy that you have foolishly grown to trust and more foolish than that, grown to L- ugh… do you have to say it?
Maybe if you don’t say the L word or even think about the L word the budding feeling would flicker and fade into the darkness of discarded feelings and devastating heart breaks faster than the average-joe, run of the mill tragedy.
When you are finished with your duties and the band has left the room one by one, you sit down in the chair that they had each occupied. You spin around twice, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Opening your eyes you see Jaemin’s reflection standing beside you. He was so quiet you didn’t even hear him open the door.
“My hair is already starting to fall and I was hoping you could fix this front part? There are a few hairs that are a little in the way,” he pleads cautiously. You don’t answer him, picking up your phone and your small bag. You have to come back here later anyways so you leave the hair supplies scattered across the vanity desk. He steps further into the room, nearly in the middle and actually giving you some space. “Please?”
You turn back to look at him one last time. You almost fall for his act, like every other performance he has put on with the express purpose of charming his way into getting what he wants at that moment in time. You’d like to say you resisted his spell a majority of time, but you know that there have been too many times when you were bewitched by his alluring eyes and focused on his sweet mouth to claim that that statement was true.
You don’t want to stick around but you promised Mark you would talk to Jaemin after the show and you can’t go back on a promise. Some people have standards, unlike Jaemin, you believe.
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t do that yourself as an excuse to see me again before we talk after the show. Besides, it looks fine that way, just leave it alone.” You step through the doorway and do what Jaemin did two days ago, poking your head back in. “Oh, forgot. I hope you break your leg for real this time,” you say to him in a chipper tone, giving him a two second long fake smile.
“Oh, yeah, princess? Well I hope-” Jaemin starts although you flee the scene before he can finish. “Fuck…so that’s what that feels like.”
─────────────────────
The second concert of the tour is even more lively than the first. You were slightly worried Jaemin would appear downcast during the show because of what you said to him but he was even more energetic than the night before.
Much, much after the encore has ended, you find yourself sitting across from Jaemin in the dressing room, him on the couch and you perked on the vanity. You regret saying something so petty right before leaving him alone in the dressing room and internally debate whether or not you should apologize. Being the bigger person, you decide to admit your faults like an honest, responsible, mature adult – or at least more mature than him.
You take a deep breath, putting the kettle on the burner in your mind. You patiently await the brewing of your potential verbal match, blowing its whistle and commencing the aggressive game. “So…”
Jaemin looks up at you after having been staring at your shoes in complete and utter silence for ten minutes. “So…”
“I’m sorry for saying I wish that you broke your leg. I just feel…hurt, I guess? And I kind of want you to be in pain...like me.”
Jaemin’s face goes through a rainbow of emotions before landing on blue. “Hurt because of, um, me?”
You snap your tongue. “Yeah? Obviously it's about you.” He’s quiet for five seconds so you lead him in the right direction. “Jaemin, this is where you say sorry for hurting me.”
“I am sorry! I didn’t really think you needed to hear it though. Like, it happened but it was out of my control, okay? I’m sorry you saw that.”
“Sorry I 'saw that' huh? So you’re not sorry for doing it, is that what you’re telling me?”
Jaemin rubs his temples and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry for hurting you, y/n. I’m sincerely sorry…look, I know you don’t trust me and I don’t really know how else to do it at the moment. Ask a question, any question at all, and I will tell you what you want to know.”
“Hmm, okay. Is it true that you’ve hooked up with a girl backstage at every concert venue?” you press him, failing to ward off the rational course of action and let it lie, ignoring its existence for better peace of mind. You don’t know what answer you’re hoping to hear.
“You heard our conversation yesterday and lied about it? Look who’s the liar now.”
You huff and tighten your hold the edge of the vanity in frustration. “That’s not an answer. Is it true that you’ve hooked up with a girl backstage at every concert venue? Yes or No?”
“Why? Are you volunteering, princess?”
“Ugh, you are unbelievable,” you scoff.
“What? It’s a legitimate question about volunteering.”
“Well you don’t get to ask any ‘legitimate questions.’ My question was a simple yes or no question to try and get me to trust you and you can’t even answer the very first one.”
Jaemin sighs and looks up at you with puppy eyes. “I was only trying to make you laugh, y/n.”
“No, it was a cheap attempt at trying to make me all flustered and I'm not falling for it anymore. Go find one of those girls you humped in public yesterday. I’m sure they’d looove to volunteer.”
“You’re the one that asked! Why are you thinking about me fucking someone anyways? You jealous or something?”
“Why on earth would I be jealous of some poor girl that you’re going to forget the name of the next day after you hookup?”
“Because you almost kissed me yesterday!”
“Wow! The first girl you will remember the name of! Tell me, how do you contact all your nameless sexual partners about if you ever test positive for an std? Or do you not get tested because you don’t care?” You jump down and pace in front of him.
“Are you kidding me? Of course I regularly check to make sure I’m clean. Actually, a few days before we met, I was confirmed clean.” Jaemin gets to his feet and stands in front of the door, watching your pace with frustrated feet.
“So? That was two months ago. You could’ve contracted something in that time and not know it.”
“No, I’m clean. I know I’m clean.”
“There’s no way you could know if you haven’t been tested! What part of that don’t you understand?” you practically yell.
“I know because I haven’t been with anyone since I met you, y/n!”Jaemin raises his voice to be just above your volume and if anyone were outside the door they would certainly have heard it.
You open and close your mouth, at a near loss for words. You look to your right and your hands fidget with the dozen styling tools on the vanity. There isn’t a single comb out of place but all of a sudden, their placement is your #1 top concern, not the conversation nor the attractive speaker. “Okaaay? And? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Argh!” Jaemin lets out a heavy, calmer sigh. “I’m supposed to mean something to you.”
“Why?” You spin around to face the play boy who had the audacity to suggest you owe him your undivided attention. “Because you mean something to every other girl? Is that it?”
“God, y/n! No, it’s because you mean something to me, okay!?”
You both stare at each other for a moment after the revelation. Jaemin looks almost as surprised as you do to have burst out something he hadn’t fully processed for himself.
He had seen you storm off last night after seeing him and the crazed fans. Before seeing your crestfallen expression, he’d never experienced any resemblance of guilt or shame about his nightly activities – or at least for a really long time – and yet since seeing your face, it’s been gnawing away at him from the inside out.
That’s how he knew you were truly more to him.
Never has he reflected on his actions for very long, instead quickly moving on and indulging in the pleasure of those who volunteered to be used next. He’s never had a problem finding a new toy and letting off some steam with whomever it was that ended up ensnared in his bewitching trap.
It’s all about the chase for Jaemin, zeroing in on his target like a predator to its prey. Although, there have been very few times in which he has been on the prowl for more than two weeks and he can’t figure out why you’re any different. Jaemin is known to be selective about which challenges he pursues and which challenges he blows off, deeming them of no importance. The “challeges” having to do with potential fuck dolls are usually a breeze, taking them to bed being a walk in the park for him. This explains why he is so fascinated by those who resist his charm, finding the most interesting girls to be stubborn, headstrong, and iron-willed and you checked off all those boxes ten times over.
Whereas it bothered the hell out of Jaemin to not have you under his spell since first acquaintance to practically an eternity later in comparison to those other challenges, that might you add, he always eventually overcame, for once his hubris got him somewhere, not someone.
A place where he feels something that he has neglected for years all because he didn’t want another “forever” to be whispered in his ear by a girl that disappears into the wind the next second. He used to consider himself a romantic but only now is it that he feels he can articulate his affections again without regret or the fear of vulnerability after intricately tangling one’s heart strings with another.
“I think…fuck. I know you won’t believe me but you mean so much more to me than you could ever imagine.”
Jaemin takes a deep breath, preparing to admit out loud something that his mind pretends he hasn’t been doing on a daily basis because it conflicts with who he is supposed to be.
“Every dandelion I blow away, every shooting star I intentionally look for at night, every four leaf clover I search for in the grass for luck and every time the clock hits 11:11, I wish for you. I wish that you were mine – ”
“Jaemin, how many times have we been over this? I don’t belong – to – any – one.”
“I know you don’t, y/n.... and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your strong sense of self, your confidence, your iron will and your fierce independence.” He comes closer to you and takes one of your hands in both of his. He clasps your hand delicately, like the last sparse snowflakes falling from the sky in the first week of Spring.
You look up into his dreamy eyes before ripping your hand out of his. “What about those girls from yesterday, huh? What are your top three favorite qualities from them?”
“God, it’s all an act! It’s like a role I play! How many times do I have to try and tell you this? I don’t fucking care about every other girl I meet! They’re just fans or acquaintances that I treat with the same behavior! I’ll flirt and charm them into believing what they want to hear and, yes, I was terrible with ending things with the girls that I got with once or twice or had a week long relationship with; but it was different, and I… I was different. And that was before you.”
“How am I supposed to trust you, Jaemin? How do I know that you didn’t say the same thing to every other girl you want to fuck? When you say that I’m ‘the only girl,’ I have no reason to believe you.”
Jaemin sighs, almost defeatedly. “I thought I’d given you several reasons to trust me.”
“You didn’t even answer my first question that was from a little game you came up with for me to learn how to trust you more!”
“Well, I got you out of that club when you had been drugged and –”
“Yeah, after you stalked me there.”
“You’re one of two girls on this planet that I’ve talked to about my family."
You snap your tongue. “How am I supposed to believe that? It could easily be another lie to add to your collection.”
“Fuck…what about all our intimate moments where it felt like it was just you and me and we were the only ones in the universe because everything else faded away. Where we were vulnerable and honest and –”
“You could’ve used those same moments and repeated all the same lines to make them think that they were special to you too. You just said how you charm girls into believing what they want to hear and they wanted you to care about them and you faked those deep, intimate moments to get what you wanted. And what was so different about me? I wanted this so badly that it hurts. I don’t know when it happened but seemingly out of nowhere, I wanted you to think of me as more than just a quick fuck and then I wanted to believe you’d changed because you were soft and I did feel those moments when it was just you and me and no one else in the universe existed but– argh! I can’t put into words how it felt to see you with all those girls at the after party. You were the same –”
“Princess, it was just acting! I was playing a –!”
“No, don’t you dare ‘princess’ me, Jaemin. And don't cut me off,” you snap. “You’re the one who asked ‘can we talk?’ So, please, let me talk.”
Jaemin can feel the threat of stinging tears emerging in his eyes, so much of the waterworks’ impetus being the desperation threaded through your tone. “I’m sorry…go on.”
You take a deep breath and pick up from where you left off. “The closest thing I can think of to how it felt seeing you with those girls fawning over you and you just eating it up, letting them take turns sitting on your lap and feeding you by hand and kissing your neck and…you were having the time of your life while I stood there with Mark and watched. And that was when I finally went up in flames…
When you first walked into the salon two months ago, I knew that you were trouble. I knew your reputation because I heard all the girls gossip about you constantly. I knew getting tangled up with you was playing with fire and getting burned, sooner or later, was almost guaranteed; yet I voluntarily lit the matches – I lit so many fucking matches that eventually I was carrying a torch for you that I never imagined I’d lift for anyone, let alone a guy like you. And in that moment, it slipped from my hand and fell at my feet and the fire that I willingly started engulfed me from the bottom up.” You gulp and wipe your soggy cheeks. “So here I am now, blistered, charred and still smoking with regret… and I never wanna go near fire again.”
You avert your eyes because you can’t stand to see tears rimming his waterline. Examining the dressing room that’s probably home to hundreds, if not thousands, of wonderful memories tied to these four cream painted walls but all you can see is a bare and desolate dressing room that you're stuck in with him and a boatload of feelings you never wanted to scratch the surface of. Even if Jaemin is standing right behind you, you feel alone.
“You have some of the worst trust issues ever. But wanting to be independent and not rely on anyone too much out of fear of getting burned isn’t independence, it’s isolation.”
You scoff, shaking your head at the irony. “Well, it takes one to know one.”
“Hey, I’m trying here. I thought that you knew that? If I could have any wish come true I would want you to have stayed an extra 5 seconds at the party to see me push her off and go after you. I’m tired of the isolation and I’m tired of pretending to be someone that I’m not… when I went running after you I wanted us, together doing the most mundane, average coupley things. It could be literally anything on the planet and I’d have the time of my life being with you, holding your hand, wrapping my arms around you when you’re cold and giving you my leather jacket too. And I don’t want to hide any of it out of fear that the fans would like me less. I would still do it even if some of them created a petition to have me thrown out of the band… I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m so, so incredibly, sincerely sorry and I don’t know what else to do here except…”
Jaemin spares no time tossing his old playbook out the window. He closes the gap between you two, cupping your jaw with both hands, leaning in and bringing your lips to meet in the middle. A fuzzy static numbs your body, mobility defective for a moment, his touch frying your nerves and causing your eyes to pop open widely. Within seconds of the initial shock setting in, you willingly part your lips and let his tongue slip inside your mouth.
Your heart swells, falling victim to what feels like a classic silver screen kiss, romantic and passionate enough to inspire anyone else’s longing for their own other half to show up.
You yelp when he hoists your body up without warning and sits you down on the surface of the vanity desk that isn’t crowded by cosmetic products and styling tools. You instinctively part your thighs for him to slot his body in between your legs and you loop your arms around his neck.
Jaemin caresses the undersides of your thighs and slowly slides his hands further in the direction of your ass. You shift your weight back onto your palms so your upper torso is pressed to the mirror, scooting your lower body closer to the edge for his hard bulge to grind against your covered pussy with better accessibility. Reaching your ass, he squeezes handfuls of your skin and manipulates how you roll your hips exactly how he likes it.
You don’t remember grinding on him accidentally last week but since that momentary arousal, Jaemin has specifically fantasized about you grinding on him and getting yourself off. That idea will have to be saved for another day though. For your first time together, he wants to spoil you. He doesn’t want you to move a finger, just relax and take everything he gives you, appreciative of his efforts.
He hooks his fingers on your belt loops and you lift your hips up from the vanity desk to assist him wrangle your jeans down your legs. He’s determined to remove your remaining clothes in record time, impatient to get you naked since day #1. He yanks the zipper down the thick, dark chocolate jacket you wore this evening with knowledge of how chilly it can get backstage and you refuse to wear anything of Jaemin's, especially his leather jacket, again because you hated him – or at least that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of. Jaemin grabs the bottom hem of your thin long sleeved shirt, and you raise your arms up for him to whip it over the top of your head.
His mouth returns to yours momentarily, distracting you by trailing wet kisses down your neck and nipping at your earlobe while his hands snake around your back. You squeak, suddenly feeling your bra pop open behind you as the metal clasps are undone masterfully. The stretchy straps are hanging off your shoulders one moment, the next thing you know, the article of clothing he viewed as a material barrier from his hands is flung across the dressing room.
Whereas Jaemin remains fully dressed, he leaves you in only your socks and underwear. Every time you try to reach out and undress him, he gives your hands a light slap to deter you from trying again. After your third attempt, you get the message and give up on that mission.
Your bare ass sits on the cool surface of the vanity and goosebumps appear on your thighs. You sit with your knees pressed together and your arms crossed over your chest to hide your breasts. His gaze is polished with lust, giving your body a once over, pride swelling naturally.
Finally, You're here. And he has you in the palm of his hand. Jaemin smiles, licking the corner of his lips more often than he would regularly (almost 2x as much really) since he knows you think it’s hot.
“What?” you ask him quietly, finally meeting his eyes after averting them when your pants were first removed. Your face is angled at the ground and you peer up at him through your eyelashes timidly.
“I didn’t expect my baby to be so shy,” he comments as he closes in on you.
“i-i’m not shy,” you lie through your teeth. “I’m just cold.”
“Hmm, it’s a good thing I know how to warm you up then,” Jaemin says. He clasps his hands around your wrists and you let him unfold your arms without a struggle. He pins you to the cool mirror behind you and attacks your skin with open mouthed kisses, his frenzied lips meeting your skin and getting to work kissing your newly exposed skin. His mouth trails from your jawline, down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts. Noticing that you watch every move of his, he smirks against your skin.
“Tell me how good this feels on a scale of 1-10,” he instructs you, surveying your facial expressions as well.
His tongue skims the perimeter of your nipple slowly, barely making contact with it before engulfing the bud in his warm mouth softly. You hum blissfully. “Um, 7.”
“Only a 7, huh?” he mumbles before beginning to flick his tongue back and forth on your nipple. He slides your wrists to meet together over your head, securing both of your wrists against the mirror with one hand. His free hand palms your neglected breast, massaging it with mild pressure.
“8… .5.”
“Interesting, interesting,” he muses.
“What is?”
“How rough you like it. Or at least what your limit is.” Jaemin raises his hand to your mouth. “Baby, say ‘ahhh’ for me.” You eagerly part your lips to suck on his pointer and middle fingers for him. “I don’t want to ruin you or use you like my little fucktoy if you’re not ready for it,” Jaemin tells you, tone simultaneously intimidating and sincere. “I don’t want to scare you off.”
He lets you suck for another few seconds before pulling his fingers from the warmth of your mouth, making a little pop sound. He lets your wrists go, lightly running his hands up and down the top of your thighs. “What do you think, princess?”
“I think…” You rub your lips together looking for the right words to say. “... I want to be ruined.”
“Are you sure?” He looks at you hesitantly, stroking your cheek tenderly with the back of his fingers that aren’t coated in your saliva.
“Jaemin, I trust you to use me responsibly,” you answer, voice hardly above a whisper. “Make me your little fucktoy, I want you to, I mean it.”
“God, y/n. I’ve been dreaming of those words coming from your mouth for weeks,” he groans and strokes his erection through his black skinny jeans. His tongue pushes into your mouth, smashing your lips together and you moan into the kiss.
His lips then return to your breasts, alternating between biting and sucking hard enough to make wet, lewd noises with his mouth. His hand roughly squeezes your other breast, pinching or flicking your cold nipple in between rough squeezing.
Jaemin sweeps you off your feet and sets you down on the salon chair. “Princess, can I tie you down so you don’t squirm and I can do my job better?”
“Tie me down with what, exactly?” you ask skeptically.
Jaemin holds up a half dozen zip ties that he had found sitting on one of the speakers that were low to the ground. He didn’t know what he’d use them for, he just took them to have them.
“Where did you get those?”
“I got them from the set director. Now, are you up for this?” Jaemin lightly shakes the zip ties in his hand and like the other times you agree and let him do what he wants.
Jaemin kneels down to secure your wrists to each armrest. He raises the chair so you can see your whole body in the mirror now instead of just the top.
You press your thighs together again, squirming in the chair as he finishes the task. He cups your knees with gentle hands and looks up at you with adoration. “How about you part those legs for me like a good girl… or do you need a little help?” You bite your bottom lip, letting a whine vibrate in the back of your throat to answer on your behalf. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it myself.”
He tightens his grip on your knees and pries your thighs apart for a picture-perfect, close up shot of your wet slit. His eyes flick back and forth between your face and your bare pussy until you close your eyes from embarrassment.
“Hey, baby, no, no! It’s okay! Don’t be embarrassed!” Jaemin coos, getting to his feet and kissing your lips. You try to bring your thighs back together again but his legs get in the way and he pries them open. He tsks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I need you to keep these open for me. Can you do that?”
You reluctantly nod while feeling your face growing hotter by the second. “Um, okay.”
“Good girl,” Jaemin places a soft kiss on either of your knees. “Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are, princess?” Jaemin kisses up the inside of your thigh until his mouth hovers over his own personal jackpot.
“M’hmm, I’ve been t-” you begin to answer when Jaemin places a tender kiss on your clit. You gasp at the unexpected contact of his mouth to the sensitive spot.
“Well you haven't been told enough,” Jaemin mumbles, mouth still lightly grazing over your slick torturously. Rocking back on his heels, he gently spreads your wet lips with his fingers to admire you closely. “Absolutely…gorgeous.”
The infatuating smile Jaemin flashes you before dragging his tongue through your pussy is one that will haunt your wet dreams for quite possibly the rest of your life. You squeeze your eyes shut and cling onto the armrest as he slowly laps up your arousal, gaging your response by keeping his eyes on your face. He detaches his mouth and stands up, wiping the back of his hand across your favorite pair of messy lips.
“I think you’re too beautiful for only one pair of eyes to be watching,” Jaemin says. He circles around the salon chair until he is directly behind you. “You should see for yourself, baby.”
Slinking his arms around you, his fingers graze your slit from this new position, compelling you to mewl at the sensation of Jaemin rubbing tiny soft circles on your clit. His other hand massages your breast moderately aggressively.
“Keep your eyes open, y/n. You need to see this. Need to see how pretty your pussy is when I play with you.”
You gulp. “Okay, I'll try.”
Jaemin relocates his hand to sternly grasp your throat instead. “No, you will.” He gives your throat a five second squeeze and feels you struggling to swallow against the palm of his hand. “Say it after me: I will keep my eyes open.”
He loosens his grip to hear you swear. “I will keep my eyes open,” you rasp.
“And I will keep my legs open.”
“I w-will keep my legs open.”
Jaemin tightens his grasp again, not as strict as the first time but enough to make you feel a bit floaty. “Mhmm, now that’s my girl.”
You watch yourself wriggle in the salon chair as he increases the pressure applied to your clit. They dip lower and dive inside you, curling up masterfully. By this time, he's got you bucking your hips into his hand to meet the rhythm of his fingers. He smirks with satisfaction, holding eye contact with you in the mirror.
“Am I making you feel good, princess?” You nod lazily but struggle to move much since his hand restricts further mobility. “What about now? Tell me, does this feel better?” He moves his hand, roaming down from your throat, between your breasts, across the span of your stomach to arrive at your clit, focusing now on working you over your limit.
You hiss and attempt to suppress any loud cries, fearful of being caught like this, secured to the styling chair leaking cum on the leather, exposed to anyone that might walk in on you being so feverishly abused by Jaemin’s fingers. “Fuck…y-yeah that’s amazing.”
He leans to the side of your head and kisses your cheek then leaves a short trail of feathered kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “No, you’re amazing,” Jaemin whispers in your ear. He seals his open mouth to the sweet spot just below your ear and sucks on your neck. While the throbbing pressure in your core mounts, the pornographic wet noises from your pussy occupy every inch of the room.
Your eyes roll back in your head and flutter closed momentarily. He pulls his fingers out of you suddenly, slapping your clit briefly and ripping a cry from your lips. “Remember your promise, y/n,” he whispers again, tone less nurturing and more threatening than any tone he’s ever spoken to you with before. He returns back to dutifully ruining you without forcing an apology out of you. Jaemin is aiming to shoot you into the heavens and isn’t settling for anything less. He’s not petty enough to demand an apology when all he wants to bring you is bliss.
You instantly open your eyes and three seconds later, feel the tingly pressure inside you burst and bloom through your body in waves of heat. As insanely difficult as it is, you manage to keep your eyes open the entire, elongated high. Jaemin’s fingers hasten the excessive stimulation and maintain the same merciless motions until you’re bawling and thrashing in the chair.
“Aw, baby, you did so well,” he coos.
“I did? Really?” You look up at him lethargically and he rewards you with a kiss on your forehead.
“Yeah.” Jaemin crouches in front of you, smiling to himself when you make no effort to close your legs this time. You jolt from the zing that fires through your abdomen and down to your toes as he touches your aching core and collects some of your arousal on his fingertips. He gets a taste of your wetness and hums delightfully. “Mmmh, your cunt tastes so good,” he compliments you, fully diving two fingers inside you. He recovers another small amount of your juices and rubs it over his lips. “Here, you try, princess.”
Jaemin clasps his hands over yours on the armrests, leaning in close and bestowing upon you the taste he savors so much. Like a dream, you open your mouth against his obediently. He hums, getting to his knees to finish his uneaten meal.
“Jaemin, wait! Are you going to-” You whimper and twitch as his tongue swirls around your folds and slides inside your heat.
He eats you out for a dozen seconds before peering up at you. “Do you want me to stop? It doesn’t sound like you want me to stop but if you rrrreally want me to then–”
You loll your head to the side, breathlessly huffing something that sounds like, “No, don’t stop.”
“Hmm, now that’s what I thought.”
Jaemin pets your walls with two fingers and sucks harshly on your clit until you’re spiraling for the second time and sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure.
He teeters back, looking you up and down like a work of art that he just added to his own personal gallery. “Perfect,” he murmurs to himself. “Perfect and all mine.”
It would be a dream come true if he could ever convince you to let him hang you up in his room for a day. In his fantasy, you would be naked and untouched the entire time to make you desperate beyond imagination and soon enough, he would get to hear you whimper and beg to be put out of your misery but would deny your every request to edge you on further; bonus points if he got to keep his door open all day to show you off.
It’s a nice thought, although thinking from a realistic standpoint, he wouldn’t last an hour without giving you everything you ask for. Plus, now that he thinks about it, he’s not too keen on the idea of sharing you with anyone, so that open door policy is off the table too.
“When can I touch you?” you ask, eyes like a wounded puppy.
Jaemin kisses both of your cheeks, the tip of your nose and finally your lips, mumbling, “say please” against them.
“Please? Can you let me loose… please?”
“God, I’ll never be able to say no to you, y/n,” he says as he clips the zip ties, setting you free.
You quickly scramble to the grimy dressing room floor before he can object. Now on your knees in front of him, you fumble with his belt buckle and unzip his worn-in black jeans. “Baby, I said I wanted to make tonight was about you, remember? I wanna make you happy, this isn’t about me.”
You delay the removal of his pants and question him in an innocent voice. “Well, what if giving you head will make me happy?”
Jaemin grins, huffing air through his nose a few times slightly amused by your eagerness to take him down your throat. He pets the top of your head gently. “Hmm… only if you want to, princess.”
“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to,” you answer, pulling down the garment to reveal his dark gray boxer briefs. There’s a darker spot where his precum has seeped through the material. It’s less prominent than yours but the resemblance is indisputable.
“And you had the audacity to call me out for being wet when you were making a mess in your pants too?”
You peer up at him with a teasing expression that he doesn’t appreciate, but he lets your taunting comment slide when your puckered lips meet his tip. You suck him in with ease, taking your time so you don’t gag right away. His head hits the back of your throat and Jaemin pulls your mouth off of him. A string of spit connects your mouth to his cock which he takes in his hand and gives a few pumps, using your saliva as lubricant.
“I’m not patient enough to wait to be inside you,” Jaemin says in a low voice that demands respect. After clawing at his clothes and ridding his body of the remaining pesky garments getting in the way, he sits himself down on the stylist chair. He motions towards you, beckoning you over for filling to which you oblige, like you will always. You can’t envision a time when you might refuse his advances or propositions.
Before his mouth met yours, you couldn’t stand to be around the person holding their jar of hearts where everyone can see the kind of person they are. It becomes so blatantly apparent, everyone knows how cold his own heart is.
It’s sad when you think about it. He is the kind of someone that holds out a jar of what might as well be honey in front of him, luring bees into the trap and dosing them with white smoke to put them to sleep. Difference between the bees and the girls he cuts loose is that the bees fly away unharmed and with no long term memory of that jar and how the honey was basically their charm.
Obviously, there are girls that are completely fine with one night stands and prefer to hook up once or twice and then never see him again, but a great majority of them end up with shattered hearts, crushed by the hands of none other than Na Jaemin.
Your opinion of him reverted back to that of which you had when you first met him because of the incident you witnessed at the club.
You’re faced with the question: did you actually like Jaemin this whole time but wanted to obliterate those feelings so badly that you found a way around those affections, latching onto an excuse (seeing him at the club) to leave him high and dry? Has your mind created this emotional defense mechanism to save you from heartbreak in the distant future?
It hurts now but it’s almost like you’re choosing this small amount of pain to avoid perhaps suffering through a much deeper, earth shattering pain that could be waiting for you somewhere along in life.
All you know is that his touch on your skin feels right. You welcome every single action he takes gladly, showing him your appreciation by whimpering and moaning when he squeezes your skin, or sticks his fingers or tongue inside one of your needy holes.
Jaemin traces his fingers through your pussy as you stand in front of him, tilting forward a bit and holding your cheeks apart for him to have optimal access to you. When he has gathered enough of your wetness, he smears the natural lubricant all over himself, a mixture of his precum and your arousal making his stiff cock slick and slightly sticky. You let out a whine, impatient to be stuffed full of him to which he chuckles apathetically.
“Awww, poor y/n has to wait a whole 30 seconds,” Jaemin coos with a tone void of pity and painted in sarcasm. “That’s nothing compared to how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
He reaches out to your hips and guides you in the right direction for him to line himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready, princess?”
“M’hmm,” you hum, in a higher pitch than normal. “Fill me up.”
Jaemin holds the base of his cock, keeping himself in place as you slowly sink down, inch by inch. You pinch your eyes shut from the sting of your walls spreading further by every second. He leans back to observe your reaction to the ceremonious first thrust inside you through the reflection of the mirror. From your mouth slips a broken, mildly pained whimper as your pussy sucks in his entire length, not stopping until your ass is pressed firmly against his lap and his cock has completely disappeared inside you.
“y/n… you feel like heaven,” he purrs close to your ear, skilled lips barely feathering your ear lobe. The tight sensation is infinitely better than what he imagined you would feel like. His hands get a stern grip on your waist, rolling your hips in his lap while he’s buried deep inside you.
You gasp and wince. “J-Jaemin? i, um, it hurts, can w–”
“Baby, just focus on your breathing. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here,” he couches you through the transition from empty to stuffed full, rubbing your back soothingly. “Just relax. The pain will be over soon, I promise.”
“i– okay. If you say so,” you snivel.
He stays still for nearly a minute before softly rolling your hips again. “Better?”
“Better,” you sigh, this time blissfully.
Jaemin’s fingers dig into your skin and he starts off by lifting you off his lap slightly. He repeats this level of intensity of shallow thrusts for about half a minute before accelerating. He won't bounce you with the highest degree of brutality until he deems your hole has stretched enough to handle more.
Picking up the pace, he awakens something inside you, eliciting a weak cry from your parted lips. Your eyes bulge out of your head, preferring not to get caught if you’re too loud. You squeeze them shut, focusing on your attempt at silencing your involuntary noises. Although, even if you tuck your lips together between your teeth, he can still hear your tiny, pleasured whimpering half suppressed in the back of your throat.
“Feeling good, princess?” he grunts, clearly hearing how he’s making you feel beyond simply ‘good.’
You open one eye and then two a moment later, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “Sooo fucking good.”
Jaemin licks his lips, smiling wickedly, in total contrast to how he is in the outside world. He has his moments when he’s a gentle softie; however, the mysterious bad boy look has always screamed dark, hard and sore – three words you would confirm.
“Baby, what’s up?” Jaemin asks when you close your eyes.
“Hm? I didn’t s-say anything.”
“You promised me you’d keep your eyes open…and I expect that from you the whole time, got it?”
Jaemin’s arm wraps around your front to deliver a light slap to your clit. You squeak and move the position of your hands to the armrests instead of your quivering thighs. He gains momentum, lifting you above his lap and then forcefully bringing you down. You weakly try to help him, bouncing on his cock with an exhilaration that ultimately overwhelms your limited life bar.
Arriving at that point where your body is too worn out to contribute a single ounce of energy into riding him, you cry out for him to stop. When he does, you finally relinquish control, telling him through soft whimpers that he can use your body however he wants, while you'll graciously take everything he gives you. For Jaemin, hearing you completely submit to him, and 100% soberly hand over the reins to your body willingly, is nearly enough to make him shoot his cum inside you on the spot.
“God, y/n…so you really are mine then, huh? You belong to me now? You’re just a hole for me and me alone to fuck and use up however I want?” Jaemin asks, a possessive, crazed glint shining in his eyes. Paradoxically, at the end of every question, he gently presses a kiss to your neck.
“I’m yours, Jaemin,” you rasp. “All yours.”
“That’s right, baby. You’re allll mine,” he says with a haunting dominance.
He rapidly slams you down his cock, heaving your body into the air, almost to the point where he slides out, but every time, yanking you down, shoving himself deeper inside you over and over and over again until you feel high as a kite from the experience of having your walls roughly spread.
The sound of your naked bodies slapping together, as you ride him and bounce on his cock, rings around the room. He gives it to you passionately with his endless defiling and gushing pleasure, almost brimming, almost too much. He doesn’t restrain himself, snapping his hips up and fucking you so savagely that he'll have to carry you out tonight, since you'll struggle to walk after he's pummeled your pussy with such high intensity. Jaemin is dead set on watching you melt in his lap, right before his eyes, and he won’t stop bouncing you on his cock for anything, using you like a lifeless sex doll and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.
You feel a rush of tingly pressure quickly forming, on the precipice of mounting your senses. The icing on the cake is his abuse of your aching clit, hurried circles with skillful fingers, whispering sweet words of praise in your ear to trigger your high. Your consciousness levitates off the ground, every sensation besides a numbing tightness ceasing to exist. You dig your nails into the chair and quiver against his chest uncontrollably. The faded dissociation from reality like an edible suddenly hitting out of nowhere after you've waited nearly an hour for the feeling to conquer your body completely.
You wilt back against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder, which bobs every time he bounces your body. He continues to pound you vigorously into oblivion, in tune with him this time. Jaemin, again, rubs your puffy clit ruthlessly, ensuring that you, once more, peak at the same time he does. He watches your face twist up in pleasure while you convulse against him.
“Hold onto that feeling. Hold on a tiny bit longer, okay? Do it for me, y/n."
“I’ll…I’ll try,” you pant. Your walls clench around his cock, concentrating with difficulty on the pulsating pressure as long as possible. A mere seven grueling seconds in heaven, that honestly feel a lot like hell, pass before you’re too overwhelmed by your orgasm to carry on, twitching erratically. “Jaem, I c-can’t-”
Your pleading is drowned out by his shaky huffing, his lazy thrusts picking up speed before he reaches his breaking point, toppling over the edge of pleasure as euphoria surges through his veins. Jaemin shoots his cum deep inside your pussy, blessing you with a warm, full feeling. A distorted version of your name woven into a thick, gravelly moan tumbles from his lips.
When he’s completely emptied himself into you, he heaves your connected bodies up, carefully guiding you both over to the couch with his cock still buried inside. The two of you lethargically collapse there, on the black Egyptian cotton. He turns you on your side after a handful of seconds, and then cautiously pulls his softened cock out. He keeps an eye on the white cum that dribbles from your throbbing hole. In an attempt to keep it inside you, you roll on your stomach, causing Jaemin to snicker briefly.
He nudges your thighs apart, aiming to clean up the mess he made of you. "Up on your knees, princess." You whine but do as he says, leaning your front half on your elbows and arching your back for him to watch the cum leak out of you.
“Can I take a picture of you? It won’t have your face, just your pretty dripping pussy…please?”
“Yeah. Jaemin, it belongs to you, remember?”
“Fuck, yeah. I can’t believe I forgot about that,” he mutters to himself.
He gets his phone and the roll of paper towels on the vanity as quickly as possible but some of the cum drips on the couch in brief moment he steps away. He curses and dabs the material, trying his best to clean the newly forming stain. Folding a paper towel underneath you as a precaution, he finally gets to capture the image of how well he fucked you into the stars.
He takes a video of his fingers reaching out and parting your glistening lips, getting a good close up of the cum trickling from your pussy. The pussy he owns. “I love the sound of that…your pussy belonging to me. You’re mine…are you okay with that, y/n?” He smears the cum through your folds, brushing your overly sensitive clit and forcing a whimper up your throat, involuntarily.
“I’m-I'm more than okay with being yours. Every part of me being yours,” you answer sincerely, unashamed to admit what you really want now. Jaemin hums and massages your bare ass for a moment after cleaning you up with the paper towels, thinking of his marvelous, treasured new ownership.
He throws a blanket that Jeno forgot on the couch over your limp body and climbs underneath it. Wedging himself between you and the back of the stained couch, he wraps his arms around your frame, skin pressed to skin, your back nested to his muscular chest as you and Jaemin spoon happily.
─────────────────────
You spent weeks trying to perfect your tactics for facing him in tempting, tense moments but your iron borders had grown faulty. At some point or another, you were willingly unlocking the door to let him in easier and you had been fearful of the weakness that he brought out of you. You might even hold the door open for him at some point. You would be waiting and waiting for him to return soon, holding your breath, and leaning against the front door in hopes that he will come back at all.
And yet despite that fear he would ghost like the others prior to your introduction – that massive red flag you could see from a galaxy away – you felt your strength deteriorating and the weakness seeping into you and you did nearly nothing about it because you had a shred of hope it wouldn’t turn out that way. And by some miracle, your fantasy of true love encased in glass and vulnerable to shattering at any moment, wasn’t so illogical or impossible as before. Maybe you and Jaemin will embody that fantasy and for the first time in a long time you have pure hope, not the kind where you try to convince yourself things will turn out well or looking forward to something insignificant in the grand scheme of things; it’s a hope that empty is nothing but a distant memory to you and him alike.
Lying on the couch with you encompassed in his arms, Jaemin feels something more than high, restless, horny and empty. There’s no turning back once he musters up the courage to leap off the top of his secluded, emotionally distant nest because you’ve promised to teach him how to fly. Looking in the mirror, he recognizes himself again, and it’s no coincidence that you will be by his side practically every time he sees his reflection in the styling chair.
His brooding eyes now sparkling, the dazzling smile on his face genuine, the inconsistent silly, erratic behavior he does to entertain his friends and the playful, flirty comments that slip from his tempting lips aren't for the purpose of getting some girl naked backstage, but to make you laugh instead.
He chews on his lip subconsciously while he ruminates on the word “forever” for the billionth time today until reaching a conclusion: even if you and him fall apart someday and the heartache eats him alive, having you for even the tiniest pinch of time, would be worth it.
All the unforgettable memories he’ll cherish until he’s six feet under, the meaningful, romantic moments that seem nearly too good to be true, the passionate, steamy nights and days where he’s always determined to make you come first, and the pure, tenderhearted love that flows through his veins because your name is written on his heart with blue ink, in swirly, scribbled cursive letters just like the contract you signed that brought you two together at last.
“What are you thinking about?” you ask softly.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just about how Renjun’s going to kill me for getting cum on the dressing room couch.”
Amused by something so trivial to murder a person over, you crane your head around with a smile to look at him. Jaemin abruptly attaches your lips for a brief moment, like you would vanish into the crowd if he didn’t kiss you that very instant.
“What was that for?”
He hums sweetly in contentment, tightening his embrace. “I feel whole when I’m with you and no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at us, I promise I’ll be by your side, forever holding your hand for as long as you’ll let me.”
Holding your body close to his chest protectively, he has faith that your bubble of budding love won’t burst, leaving behind the insecurity and fear of attachment for the sake of saving oneself from heartbreak. He knows the girl in his arms worth the risk.
seriously though, I'm sorry for delaying the release of ROCK ME a thousand times. i hope you think it was worth the wait ? i know a ton of you were disappointed. the reason it was so late is mainly attributed to it's length. i was banking on it having a shorter word count & then it kept growing and somehow it ended up being this long fucking story that actually has a plot. i type ultra slow & couldn't keep up with the dates i thought i would post by. don't hate me. shit happens.
this is the longest thing i've ever written and i'm really proud of it! i poured my heart into this one, so please take 2 minutes to give me feedback!
okay, i think that's all i have to say. i hope you and your loved ones are/stay healthy and safe!
stream Red Velvet's *Feel My Rhythm* & *WILDSIDE* (my fav song of the year so far)
na jaemin, the college heartthrob and a part of your large friend group. he was also your best friends long term ex boyfriend. that's what you should've reminded yourself before you started sneaking around with the boy. oh god... when the truth comes out you're gonna be so done. well, thats IF the truth comes out.
a/n: just saying this now, soojin is a VERY important character in this story due to her being jaemin's ex, this taking place in the middle of her and jaemins drama, and the fact that the whole story revolves around reader hiding the relationship from her
na jaemin, the college heartthrob and a part of your large friend group. he was also your best friends long term ex boyfriend. that's what you should've reminded yourself before you started sneaking around with the boy. oh god... when the truth comes out you're gonna be so done. well, thats IF the truth comes out.
a/n: just saying this now, soojin is a VERY important character in this story due to her being jaemin's ex, this taking place in the middle of her and jaemins drama, and the fact that the whole story revolves around reader hiding the relationship from her