synopsis: when you're somehow roped into being the school's temporary mascot for a basketball game, star player kim taehyung (aka the guy you've had a massive crush on for the past two years) mistakes you for his friend and reveals a secret you'd never be able to guess.
genre: one shot, kim taehyung x reader
content: high school au (because i wrote this like 4 years ago lol), literally just fluff and pining lol, also um secret identity lowkey haha
word count: 4.0k
a/n: hellooo this is a repost of one of my old oneshots from my old blog @meiadore lol. i barely edited it so if it's a little goofy then i am sorry i wrote this soo long ago hahah. but it's really cute and funny i promise!! enjoy and thank u for reading<3
masterlist
Jungkook groaned as he trudged into the classroom, dark circles decorating his pale, sickly complexion.
“You look like shit,” Jimin, his friend, chimed in, scoffing at how miserable Jungkook appeared.
“You don’t have to tell me. I know.” With a thump into his seat, Jungkook settled into the confines of his arms, where he’d probably be sleeping for the duration of this period. “Kill me now. I have to be the mascot for the final game of the season today.”
You listened as the two boys across from you talked about the game, careful to not seem interested in the conversation, although you actually were. The classroom was bustling with noise; kids were scattered around to talk to their respective friends, you being part of the few that preferred to sit down and bury their noses in a book. Despite not conversing with anyone, you remained tuned in to Jimin and Jungkooks’ chatter.
They were friends with Kim Taehyung, the guy you’ve had the hugest crush on since freshman year. Two years later, and you were still hopelessly infatuated with him. It started out as a simple attraction to his appearance, but it grew over years into the spiralling crush you had on him now. He was more than a pretty face to you; he was unbelievably kind, never cocky despite being perfect at everything other than math, and amazing on the court. Oh yeah, he was on the freaking basketball team, too.
You were also enthralled by the little things he would do, from his face lighting up upon seeing any type of small creature, be it a little kid or a puppy, to his oddly attractive habit of pretending to chew gum when he didn’t even have any in his mouth. You had tried to catch his attention before… but never by talking to him. (Styling your hair differently, wearing his favorite shade of red, watching the shows that he liked so you could wear merch from it but never actually discuss it with him… yeah, you did it all.)
Your only close friend, Joy, didn’t seem to be impressed by your attempts to get him to notice you, so you stopped talking about him altogether. You’d rather admire and fantasize about him to yourself, as it was less embarrassing and less pressuring. As much as you’d like him to see you in the same way, it just wasn’t possible.
“I don’t want to fucking mascot. I have a fucking chem test tomorrow and I still have no idea what gas laws we covered,” Jungkook complained again, this time actually on the verge of tears. “I’m literally dying.”
“You’re literally dramatic,” Jimin countered, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you just get someone to fill in for you? Can’t you ask?”
Jungkook’s back straightened, eyes widening at his cheekily smiling friend. “That’s genius.”
Pretending to be invested in your book, you turned another page. The great thing about always being quiet was that people never knew what you were thinking, or to be specific, what you were interested in. You were actually pretty easy to read once engaged in a conversation, but you avoided those. A lot.
“I know, I’m pretty awesome.” Jimin grinned, slapping his friend on the back.
“Wait,” Jungkook said with realization striking his features. “Who would I ask? None of my friends are going to be free tonight because they’re either playing at the game, or they’re dicks.”
“I’m telling Jin that you said that,” Jimin scoffed. “And I don’t know, try asking someone who usually goes to games anyways? The only thing that they’ll have to do differently is jump around like a maniac and play with kids before the game starts. Then, they just watch the game normally. There has to be someone who’s interested.”
Someone, AKA you, perked up at that. If you were behind a costume, you wouldn’t mind jumping around like an idiot. No one would know who you were and you’d get a front seat view on Taehyung in his element.
Jungkook sighed. “Really? The game’s in like, two hours.”
At that, even Jimin deflated. It was true; who would be willing to go that last minute? “Man, tough luck. No one would say y—”
“Yes!” The words came out before you were aware of it.
You gulped under their surprised gaze, about to take it back, though Jimin spoke up before you could. “Y/N, right?” Somewhere between his mask of confusion, you sensed a hint of a smirk. “I think I’ve seen you around at games before.”
“Um, yeah, I guess,” was your nervous reply.
Jimin and Jungkook looked at each other, some sort of unspoken communication happening via aggressive eye contact. As they were doing that, you decided that today was the day. The day you would pass away. Why the fuck did you say that? They were going to think that you were a psycho! No one simply volunteered to be a mascot like that. It was weird. Taehyung probably didn’t like weird people. In fact, he probably didn’t like you, at all.
Heck, you were invisible to him! He was surrounded by girls who were much more put together than you, and they could actually talk to him. You’d probably combust the moment you stepped within a five foot radius.
“Are you sure Y/N?” Jungkook coughed before continuing. “I don’t wanna bother you so no pressure, but if you want to that’d be really great.”
Where were your words? Seeing his sickly form made you feel sympathetic, but you wouldn’t deny that the main reason for this kind gesture was to see Kim Taehyung. You forced the nerves down your throat.
“Yeah, I don’t mind.”
His face lit up, a grin appearing along with a shimmer of mischievousness in his eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. Jimin was also exuberant at your response.
“I’ll see you after class to explain what you have to do, ‘kay?” Jimin said, and you simply nodded, unsure of your speaking capabilities all the sudden. “Kook’s probably going to take off home right after class,” he continued, chuckling.
“You got that right. I need a nap,” Jungkook croaked, voice evidently on the verge of disappearing. They laughed a bit more, and the conversation quickly dispersed with the teacher coming in, ready to start class.
You sank into your cold seat, grateful that you no longer had to talk to them but also trying to calm down your raging nerves. Sure, mascoting couldn’t be too bad, but it was unsettling to be in such close proximity to the players, especially Taehyung. You’d probably have to hang out in the bleachers first, but for most of the game, the mascot stood at the side of the court. And since yearbook pictures were going to be taken today—after all, it was the last game of the season—you’d have to get in the pictures, too.
Though you were usually pretty focused during your fourth period, today you could only think about the upcoming game, and how you were going to survive with Kim Taehyung being there too.
ʚɞ
“So that’s it. You think you can do it?” Jimin said, definitely sensing that you were nervous; it was pretty obvious with how jittery you had been. You two stood outside the girls’ bathroom, with you struggling to carry the large mascot suit(Why was your school mascot a freaking bunny?).
“Yeah, I got it.” You nodded and tried to be discrete about wiping your sweaty palms on the sides of the costume. He was kind enough to explain exactly what you had to do and where to stand.
“Look, relax.” He laughed, probably finding your meek voice amusing. “The game starts in a few so I have to head in, but don’t worry about it too much. Even if you mess up, no one’ll know who you are.”
He brought a hand to your shoulder to playfully shove it, and you actually found yourself relaxing a bit. He was right. No one would know you, so you shouldn’t overthink it.
“Okay. Thank you,” you smiled, finally feeling less like you’re going to explode in nerves. You were regretting this decision quite a bit earlier, but now it wasn’t too bad. “Good luck at the game!”
Jimin beamed, and in the same quiet, soft tone, he mocked, “Good luck to you too.”
Sharing laughs, you watched as he scurried off to his team, clutching onto the fuzzy material of your costume. You sighed, brushing off any remaining nerves and going to change.
Though unbeknownst to you, a pair of keen eyes were locked onto you, or more specifically, the scene that had just unfolded. The person furrowed their brows before leaving, thousands of thoughts circling their head.
ʚɞ
Mascoting was tiring.
The suit was clammy, you could barely see through the tiny eye slits, and moving around was nearly impossible; you were close to face planting several times as you went around the bleachers, greeting other people with your best mascot voice. You spotted Joy earlier with her yearbook friends, and realized that you hadn’t told her that you wouldn’t be coming with her. Unfortunately, you couldn’t access your phone right now, and even if you could, being in the bunny suit rendered your hands useless.
Now, you were sitting at the bottom of the bleachers, where you could see all of the action but still remain pretty unnoticeable. The yearbookers were only focusing on the game, anyway. Feeling safe, you decided to let yourself fully indulge in what you came here for: Kim Taehyung.
He played in the middle of the court, bouncing around other members and smiling that stupidly boxy smile every time he scored. Dark brown locks stuck to his face with sweat, though the headband he wore held it from completely flopping onto his tan, dewy skin.
Taehyung was ethereal. It was captivating to watch him have fun on the court while still staying prudent, focused, and serious. He wasn’t the captain—Jimin was—but he still displayed good leadership, always hyping up his teammates and cheering them up when they messed up.
You were actually quite a big fan of basketball as your father forced you to watch it with him a lot as a kid, so you originally came to these games just for the heck of it. Joy only tagged along most of the time to ogle cute guys with you(once you had finally admitted that you thought some of them were cute, that is) and occasionally to take yearbook pictures, like today, but you genuinely liked the game itself.
Sometime between going to games and running into Taehyung in various classes, you found yourself enamored. It was weird at first, having a crush, but you couldn’t call whatever you felt for him a measly attraction anymore. Now, two years into it, calling him your crush would almost be an understatement.
You really liked this guy. So much so that when he misstepped and crashed onto the ground with a booming thump, you audibly yelped. Everyone chorused a series of ‘oohs’, and the game stopped completely. All eyes were on Taehyung, who was still clutching onto his ankle and back in agony.
Immediately, teammates were at his side and the manager was there with an ice pack, trying to help him get back on his feet. He scrunched his face in discomfort when he stood up, and you winced at seeing him in pain. He forced a few chuckles as people helped him walk, but there was no doubt that he was hurting; he couldn’t play this game anymore. A nasty, purplish bruise was already starting to form at the joint of his ankle, and some members of the other team even came over to make sure he was okay.
“Sorry guys,” he grunted, the deep, velvety voice echoing in your ear despite him being meters away. “I’ll probably have to sit out today.”
“Take it easy, man,” Jimin mumbled, holding his arm and searching around to find you on the sidelines. The mysterious glint from earlier resurfaced in his eyes. “Tae, you can sit over there, at the bench.”
“Got it, thanks.” Taehyung smiled reassuringly, limping as he began to hop away from the court. With one last worried glance, Jimin left Taehyung to fumble to the side benches… also the exact place that you were sitting at.
You were frozen in your spot, unable to breathe.
The coach blew the whistle, and everyone started shifting their attention back to the game. Taehyung got closer to you as he hopped your way, the rushing bodies in the background a blur of blue and yellow jerseys. He was right in front of you—granted, you weren’t able to see him that well with the barrier that was your bunny head, but he still took your breath away.
“Hey Kook,” he greeted cheerfully despite the likely throbbing pain in his back. He slowly plopped down next to you on the silver bench(that was more like a long slab of metal), and elbowed you lightly. “Glad you could make it. Thought that Jimin said something about you being sick.”
You couldn’t tell him that you weren’t Jungkook. Matter of fact, you couldn’t tell him anything at all. Though it was already sweaty in this stupid bunny costume, you felt yourself heating up even more at the unexpected contact.
He leaned down to grab some water, taking a swift chug of it before looking back to you.
“You good?”
Again, your words failed to come out. You only managed to make a thumbs up, which to him, looked like you were pointing to your throat.
“Oh!” He laughed—a beautiful and airy sound, you might add—and set his water down. “I forgot that you probably can’t talk right now.”
At this point, you might as well pretend to be Jungkook. It seemed much easier than taking out your bunny head and yelling, ‘Hey! I’m not Jungkook. I’m Y/N, and I’m here because I’m madly in love with you and being a mascot meant that I could see you up close! Because I’m weird!”
So you nodded, going along with it.
Taehyung smiled, though you think that it was strained. “Gosh, today’s been such a bad day,” he laughed again, but this time, you know that it was strained. “Can I rant about it?”
You gulped. It did seem like a pretty sucky day for him. He not only got injured and had to sit out, but it was also the last game. If you were him, you’d probably cry. The last game was like the final hurrah as a team. Sure, he had next year as well, but some of his teammates now would be in college then.
You nodded again.
“Thank you,” he sighed, “So much has happened. Where do I even start?”
Feeling more confident in your suit, you gathered courage to mumble: “Anywhere.”
Immediate regret filled your gut. What if you didn’t pitch your voice low enough?The costume muffled your voice to an extent, but not by much. What if he found out that you weren’t Jungkook?
Taehyung whipped around to you. “Damn, you really are sick. You sound like a different person.”
You shrugged, opting to not speak again. Ever.
He didn’t seem too bothered, thankfully, and took a deep breath before starting his rant. “So first, I saw Jimin earlier, and guess who he was with?”
You shrugged, again.
“Y/N.”
Suddenly air was scarce and you started coughing like a madman. Taehyung straightened up in concern and patted your back—which caused you to continue coughing even more. He saw Jimin with you? How was that important to his day at all?
“Holy shit Kook,” he vocalized, handing you his water. “Water?”
You furiously denied with the rapid waving of your hand, and even made an ‘X’ mark with your arms to indicate how much you did not want to take off your bunny head. He interpreted it differently, of course.
“Aw, you know I don’t mind if I get sick. But thanks,” he said, putting the water bottle away. He watched as you again, nodded, because that was the only thing you could do. He sighed. “Anyway, I saw Y/N and Jimin talking together. Alone!” He emphasized how absurd it was by widening his eyes and waving frantically.
Your mind was muddled, and you weren’t thinking when you let out your next question. “When?”
He didn’t mention your very not-Jungkook-voice this time, and turned around to pout to you. It was adorable.
“In front of the locker room earlier,” he explained, “They were talking and laughing and—ugh—don’t get me wrong, I love Jimin, but he knows that I’ve been crushing on her since like, freshman year.”
At that, your world froze. Literally, it froze. People stopped moving. Taehyung stopped talking. And you stopped working. He, Kim Taehyung and the love of your miserable high school life, had a crush on you? Since freshman year? Was this a dream?
“He would never break bro code—I know that—it’s just uncomfy to see him get close to her so quickly when I’ve barely been able to make conversation with her in three whole years of highschool, aside from that one time I asked her for a pencil.”
That day was ingrained into your memory. It was a Wednesday, and during bio, his mechanical pencil snapped in half while he was fooling around with some other loud boys in class. During that time, you were finally coming to terms with just how much you liked him. So when he turned around in his seat, flashed a charming, boxy smile, and requested for a pencil, you gave him your best one, fighting the red that threatened to tint your cheeks, and quietly asked for him to return it after.
He ended up not returning it, because he and his friends also accidentally broke that one by mistaking it for someone else’s during a pencil breaking contest. He did try to apologize, but since you were too embarrassed to be in a conversation with him, you ran away. That was the only time you’d ever talked to him, and you remember it like it was yesterday.
You didn’t expect him to remember it too.
“And that wasn’t even a good conversation! She probably hates me. I broke her fucking pencil,” he groaned into his hands, “Ugh, I’m getting off topic.” Shifting on the bench, he turned to you again. “And you know how Y/N usually comes to all of our games?”
Nervous laughter. That was all you could do.
“Well, she didn’t show up this time!” Flopping his hands down, he frowned childishly. You swoon. “Maybe it was kinda good that she didn’t… since I probably looked really dumb just now.” He glared at his bruising ankle. “And that’s the other thing that ruined my day, messing up like that on the last game…”
Goddammit. How the hell were you supposed to comfort him? Your mind was still reeling from the previous revelation. He liked you. And you liked him. What the fuck.
“Anyways, thanks for listening, Kook,” he seemed to have cheered up in the few seconds of silence when you were still trying to compute everything he had said. You were as still as stone, and you saw Taehyung furrowing his brows slightly. “Dude, did you pass out in your suit?”
“N-no.”
“Oh good.” He exhaled in relief, before bursting out into laughter. “Hah, and even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to answer me!”
His laughter bubbled away as did your sanity. You literally couldn’t think. Your mind was simply: Taehyung likes me and I like him. Taehyung likes me and I like him. Taehyung likes me and I like him.
So a silence fell over the two of you, something your erratic heart was grateful for. The moment was short lived, as you found Joy tapping Taehyung’s shoulder, camera in hand.
“Sorry guys, do you mind if I take a picture for the yearbook?” She asked, gesturing to her camera.
Taehyung lit up, replying, “Of course not!” He stood up, and you were about to follow suit until you realized that: A) you were much shorter than Jungkook, and B) his ankle and back were probably still hurting, so he shouldn’t stand.
With an inability to use your voice, you softly tugged onto a corner of Taehyung’s jersey sleeve. He cocked his head to the side, and watched as you desperately pointed to his ankle and then to his back. Finally understanding your message, he sat down next to you again.
“Y’know, for some reason, you’re acting weirdly cute today,” he laughed, completely unaware of the haywire your heart was sent into at that simple comment. “Hey, you should take off your bunny head! People need to know who’s been our bunny all this time!”
You furiously shook your head, to which he rolled his eyes to.
“Uh, guys? Can I take the picture now?” Joy was holding her camera up, ready to take the picture.
“Wait!” He grabbed onto the head of the bunny costume, trying to pull it off, though you brought your own hands up to pull in the opposite direction. “C’mon Kooks! You gotta be in it!”
And then it happened. He managed to pry it off, and your sweaty, flushed head became exposed to the world.
The two of you stared at each other for a while. His mouth dropped in shock, face burning an equal scarlet to yours. Brown eyes scanned your face and he gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing down his exposed neck. You were blown away by his beauty, now able to see him clearly, and he seemed to be just as enthralled by you.
Click.
ʚɞ
“Why the fuck are we on the front cover of the yearbook?” You barked the question to Joy, who was cowering behind her boyfriend, Jimin. Taehyung stood behind you, hands on his hip and equally in need of an answer.
“Y’all were cute,” she giggled nervously, “I may or may not have used my authority as head of the yearbook committee...”
“Are you serious?” You fumed, ready to attack with a lunge, but Jimin stood protectively in front of her. “Let me kill her with tickles! She knows that I hate attention.”
“Unless it’s from Taehyung,” Jimin commented cheekily. You groaned, returning to Taehyung to lament over the atrocity that was the yearbook’s front cover this year.
It was of you and Taehyung, when he had just pulled your bunny head off. The two of you were staring at each other with wide eyes and pink blushes. The picture was adorable. You, on the other hand, looked like a sweaty pig, and your hair was an actual rats’ nest.
“Well, I can’t say Jimin is wrong,” he said, pulling you onto his lap.
“Traitor.” You cuddled reluctantly, though quickly relaxing after.
“Admit it, you can’t deny it either,” Joy chimed in, climbing into Jimin’s arm on the opposite couch as well.
The four of you were at your house, celebrating the last day of junior year together with a movie night. Jimin and Joy started dating a few weeks ago, while you and Taehyung had been dating since that day at the basketball court.
After running away from him, you had frantically dragged Joy to the bathroom to explain what happened. She took the information in seriously, before casually asking why you were so nervous. He liked you and you liked him. You knew that, yet you were groveling in the girl’s bathroom. You smacked some sense into yourself, Joy encouraging you along the way.
Just as you had gathered the courage to face him, he was already outside the door and accidentally overheard the conversation. Two (proper, though a bit shaky) confessions, one fleeting kiss, and a (slightly sweaty) warm hug later, you two were together—and inseparable ever since.
“Fine, I guess I can’t deny it,” you relented. Taehyung chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your ear as you leaned into his chest. “But I’m still mad about the yearbook picture.”
Everyone being shocked at how good Maya hawke is at playing a awkward gay yet do you not remember who her dad is, playing the awkward gay runs in her DNA
SYNOPSIS: Let’s play “Casual” by Chappell Roan. How far can you sink for a guy who only sees you as a bed warmer? Somewhere between the silences, you start to wonder. If it’s just casual, why does it feel so real? And if it means nothing, why does it hurt so much?
genre: angst warning: profanities, heeseung is an asshole (his friends also), reader is a sucker for bare minimum :(, smoking, contains 2nd hand smoke too, mention of pregnancy, sad and kinda happy ending (if you squint), lots of crying and self sabotage, explicit content (smut) contains unprotected sex, doggy style, pussy eating, mention of squirting, blowjob, shower sex.
WC:12.3K
A/N: damn 233 followers already? thank you so much! here's some angsty heeseung fanfic for y'all
"Why are you so dumb for crawling back to that man? We all know you're just one of the girls he likes to bang."
The words hit like a slap, burning through your chest, Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table, nails digging into the cheap wood, the pressure grounding you as frustration bubbled in your throat. You shouldn't care. You shouldn't. But fuck, it hurt.
Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck everything about him.
You knew his reputation. Everyone did. He was the guy people whispered about in dimly lit hallways, the one whose name was laced with envy and lust.
Lee Heeseung wasn't just wanted—he was craved. His sharp cheekbones, the way his thin upper lip curled when he smirked, the small face that somehow made his presence even more intimidating. And that nose—slightly arched, just perfect enough to make your stomach twist when he looked down at you. He wasn't an academic genius, far from it, but intelligence was never his selling point. It was the way he carried himself, the lazy confidence, the quiet arrogance that made people flock to him like moths to a flame.
And you? You were just another moth.
But no—no, that wasn't true. You were different, weren't you? Heeseung doesn't fuck twice. That was his rule. One time, one night, then you were nothing but a name on his list, a passing memory in his beautifully wrecked life. Yet with you... it wasn't just once. He kept coming back, kept pulling you in with his heated stares, his late-night texts, the way he said your name like it meant something.
And maybe that's why you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that you were special.
But were you? Or were you just another girl foolish enough to think she mattered?
Your breath hitched, throat tightening as the weight of it all pressed down on you. You were exhausted. Exhausted from convincing yourself that he was just "figuring things out." That he was complicated, not careless. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted you the way you wanted him.
But he didn't. He never did.
And you were done.
Fuck him. Fuck his stupid, perfect face.
You were going to leave. You are going to block him, ignore him, and dragged him out of your heart with bloodied hands if you had to. It was what you deserved.
Sike, bitch.
"Heeseung!" You screamed his name, fingers twisting into the sheets as he drove into you from behind, your body arching under the force of his thrusts.
"Fuck, you're always so tight," he groaned, voice wrecked, half-laughing like he knew exactly how weak you were for him.
His grip on your waist tightened, his hips snapping against yours with punishing speed. Every thrust sent a shockwave through your body, pleasure and frustration tangling into something dangerous, something that made you forget why you wanted to leave in the first place.
His hand slid up your back, rough fingers ghosting over your spine before settling around your throat.
He forced you down, pressing your chest into the mattress as he continued to drive into you, deeper, harder, making you feel every inch of him. Your breasts bounced with each movement, and then—fuck—his other hand found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your legs tremble beneath him.
"You're shaking already?"
You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape, but then he tightened his grip on your throat just enough to make your head spin.
"Hee—fuck—" Your voice broke as the pressure coiled inside you, too much, too fast, overwhelming.
"Come for me," he ordered, his breath hot against your ear.
And you did. Hard.
Your orgasm hit, your body clenching around him as pleasure crashed through you in dizzying waves.
Heeseung groaned, his pace faltering, and then he was spilling inside you, his hips jerking as he buried himself to the hilt. His lips found yours from behind, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, claiming kiss, the kind that made your heart stutter even as you hated yourself for it.
The both of you collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavy, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.
Heeseung didn't move immediately. Instead, he slid his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly as he kissed the back of your neck—slow, lazy.
Your chest tightened.
Was it casual?
Your brain screamed yes.
But the way your heart fluttered said otherwise.
Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck him for making simple things feel intimate.
Fuck him for always making you stay at his place, for the way he hugged you from behind in the morning, lips warm against your neck as he whispered a sleepy "Good morning, baby." Like you were his. Like this was more than just a cycle of fucking and pretending it didn't mean anything.
And fuck him—most of all—for never wearing a condom when it came to you.
Your legs shook as you sat on the edge of the bed, his cum dripping down your thigh. The room still smelled like sweat, sex, and Heeseung—faint cologne mixed with something distinctly him. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, fingers clutching the sheets as you glared at him.
"I told you not to cum inside me," you snapped.
Heeseung, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his hips, only grinned as he reached for you, spreading your legs with ease. He looked down, watching the way your swollen cunt twitched, still messy from him.
"I always thought you weren't the type to let that happen," you muttered, frustration bubbling in your chest. "I heard you always wear a condom with other girls."
His smirk deepened. "Maybe you're not like other girls."
Your stomach twisted. You hated how easily his words got to you, how they made your heart stumble, made you want to believe you were different—even when you knew better.
Before you could snap back, Heeseung licked his lips, then slowly, wiped the mess between your legs with a towel.
You sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, the rough fabric making you flinch. "I told you to take a pill," he murmured, his voice half-amused, half-serious.
Your glare hardened. "Fuck you? You're the one who needs to adjust, bitch. If I get pregnant—"
He cut you off smoothly, not even blinking. "It won't be a problem." He looked at you, eyes dark and unreadable. "I'm ready to be a father, babe."
Your whole body locked up. What?
Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you raised your hand to slap his shoulder. He laughed, dodging easily, catching your wrist in his grip before kissing your knuckles.
"You're so cute when you get mad," he teased, leaning in, his lips barely brushing against yours.
Your heart stupidly skipped a beat. He kissed you again—gentle, slow, as if this wasn't just another night of mistakes. As if he meant it.
"I'll buy you Plan B tomorrow," he murmured against your lips.
You swallowed hard, fingers curling against his chest.
Was it casual?
Fuck him for ghosting you after spending the whole weekend in his bed.
You stared at your phone, fingers tightening around the device like you could crush it, like that would somehow erase the ache in your chest. The message you sent two days ago still sat there, unread. Or maybe it was read, and he just didn't care enough to reply.
And screw you—screw you for being so fucking stupid. For always checking your notifications like some pathetic, desperate girl waiting for scraps of attention. For letting your heart lurch every time your phone vibrated, only to sink when it wasn't him.
"Just get over him already," your friend sighed, sipping her iced coffee as she leaned back against the café booth. "He's not worth it."
How could you?
How could you just get over the way he kissed your forehead in the middle of the night, the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, like he needed you there? How could you forget his sweet smile, his stupid Bambi eyes, the way he looked at you like you were something special—only to turn around and act like you didn't exist?
And screw you—screw you for being a fucking loser.
And that's why you were here, drowning in cheap alcohol, trying to forget him.
"God, I really need a drink." You muttered, rubbing your temple as the bass of the club pulsed through your skull.
Your friend side-eyed you, unimpressed. "It's fucking Wednesday, babe. Middle of the week. Calm your ass down."
You ignored her, slamming back another shot.
"Fuck Lee Heeseung!" you suddenly shouted, voice slurred, drawing a few stares from nearby tables.
Legs swaying, balance unsteady, you barely noticed when someone grabbed your waist, steadying you before you could fall flat on your face.
A familiar grip. A familiar presence.
Your blurry vision focused just enough to make out the sharp jawline, the messy dark hair, the annoyingly pretty face you spent too much time thinking about.
"Ohhh, it's you—Lee Heeseung!" You pointed at him, laughing as if this wasn't a complete fucking disaster. "What ya doin' here?"
His jaw ticked, eyes dark as they scanned over you—messy hair, smudged lipstick, a dress that rode up dangerously high on your thighs.
"I'm here to pick your drunk ass up." His voice was flat, irritated, but his hold on you was soft and steady. He slid your arm over his shoulder, gripping your waist tighter as he started leading you toward the exit.
You let him, but only because walking felt impossible.
Then, with a giggle, you leaned in, breath warm against his skin. "Ohhh, was it casual for you to pick me up at 3 AM because I'm sooo drunk?"
Your voice was teasing, but underneath it—hurt.
His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around your waist for a brief second before loosening again.
"Shut up." His voice was quieter now, almost strained. "Let's go."
"No!" You ripped your arm from his grasp, stumbling back, your vision spinning.
"Why are you always like this, Heeseung?" Your voice cracked, but you didn't care. You jabbed a finger into his chest. "You fuck me on the weekends, make me feel like I actually matter, and then act like I don't exist after? You cuddle me, you kiss me, you hold me like—like I mean something! And then suddenly, you're back to being a complete dick?!"
You let out a bitter laugh, raising both middle fingers at him. "Fuck you! You couldn't even text me. Couldn't even take me out on a proper fucking date. What am I to you, huh?"
Heeseung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a scoff.
"Is that the reason you got yourself wasted here?" His voice dripped with condescension, his lips curling in amusement like this was all some fucking joke to him. "Because I didn't text you? That's pathetic."
His words stung more than they should have. Your nails dug into your palms.
"Why do you even care about how I act?" he continued, "We're not even together, so you don't get to tell me what to do or what not to do."
You stared at him, breath shaky, chest tight.
"Not together." The words felt like poison in your mouth. "Right. That's your excuse for treating me like shit, huh?"
His eyes flickered with something more, but his face remained impassive, like he wasn't affected at all.
"I never made you any promises. You're not getting attached, are you? I just want to fuck you." he said simply, and somehow, that hurt the most.
Your throat burned. Fucking bastard.
"Right," you whispered, voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. Your nails dug into your palms so hard it hurt. "So I guess I was just some easy fuck to you, then?"
His expression didn't change, not even a flicker of guilt. His gaze swept over you lazily, bored, like he was already done with this conversation.
You could feel your resolve crumbling.
You wanted to slap him, to scream in his face, to put a fucking ax in his head for being such a heartless asshole. But you never did.
"You know what, Heeseung?" You took a step back, blinking away the sting in your eyes. "I actually thought—fuck, I actually thought you gave a shit about me." You let out a breathless chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't, do you? You never did."
"God, I was so fucking stupid." You wiped at your face angrily. "Waiting for you to text me back like an idiot, hoping that maybe—maybe this time, it meant something." Your voice wavered, but you kept going. "But nah, right? It's just sex. Just another girl warming your bed. Just another weekend before you move on to the next."
"Fucking say something, Heeseung!" you snapped, stepping closer, shoving his chest. He didn't even budge. He just looked down at you, dark eyes blank.
And then—finally—he spoke.
"What do you want me to say?" His voice was low. "You knew what this was. I never lied to you. Whatever what's happening between us, it's just casual fuck."
Your stomach twisted. Right, casual.
"Fuck you." Your voice cracked.
You turned your back on him, forcing yourself to walk away, each step heavier than the last.
And the worst part? He didn't even follow you.
No "wait." No "don't go." No "I'm sorry."
Just silence.
The street felt too empty, the cold night air biting at your skin, but nothing compared to the hollowness settling deep in your chest. You had thought—no, you had hoped—that maybe Heeseung saw you as more.
But he didn't.
Because Heeseung wasn't the kind of guy to need anyone.
Not the way you needed him.
And you were done.
You were going to free yourself from this. No more late-night texts that made your stomach flip. No more rearranging your plans just to see him. No more pretending that his touches meant something when, in reality, they meant nothing.
You weren't going to be his puppy, following him around, saying yes to every last-minute "come over" text like some desperate loser.
You were leaving.
Right.
...
So why was it so fucking hard?
Why, after days of stubborn silence, after forcing yourself not to check your phone, were you back here again?
Why were you in his fucking passenger seat, his fingers buried inside you, his mouth pressed between your thighs, making you fall apart like the past week never even happened?
And why—why—did it still feel so fucking good?
You hated this. Hated him. Hated yourself more.
"That's it, baby. Moan for me." Heeseung groaned against your soaked folds, his voice low, dripping with hunger. His hands were everywhere—one gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open, the other palming your breast, his thumb lazily flicking over your nipple.
It felt so good, so maddeningly good, and that made you want to fucking cry.
"More—please, please." Your voice came out breathless, a plea wrapped in desperation.
Heeseung let out a low groan against your cunt, the vibration sending another shudder down your spine. "Can't get enough of you," he muttered, voice wrecked, needy—but you knew better than to believe it.
Because Heeseung never needed anyone.
He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, teasing strokes before dragging it down, tracing messy patterns over your entrance.
Then—his fingers. His hand slid down, tracing along your slit before thrusting inside suddenly, stretching you open, curling perfectly to hit that spot that made your legs tremble.
"Fuck—Heeseung!" You gasped, hips bucking, your back arching off the seat.
He was too good at this—too good at knowing your body, too good at making you fall apart, too good at breaking you down piece by piece until you forgot why you were mad, why you ever wanted to leave.
Your hands tangled in his hair, your fingers twisting at the roots as your legs shook. Heeseung groaned at the sting of your pull, pushing his fingers deeper, his tongue working faster, dragging you closer to the edge.
"Heeseung," you whined, voice high, breathless. "Getting close—please—"
And this was why you kept coming back. Because he knew you. Knew your body. Knew exactly how to ruin you.
Because the way he touched you—the way he kissed you, the way he fucked you—it felt too real.
Heeseung was right. He never made you any promises. Never gave you any reason to believe this was something more than sex.
You were just a dumb, stupid girl who kept misreading his actions. Who kept thinking she was special. But you weren't.
And yet, despite knowing all of that, despite the anger twisting in your chest, your fucking heart fluttered when he pulled himself up, his lips crashing into yours while his fingers still worked inside you. And you hated it.
Hated how he kissed you so slow, like he was savoring you.
Hated how he moved his fingers just right, drawing out every last wave of pleasure, dragging out your orgasm until you were crying against his mouth.
Hated how he made it feel intimate—
And hated yourself the most. Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times he ghosted you, ignored you, acted like you were nothing—
You knew you'd still come back.
Like a fucking idiot.
And you really were stupid. Because after everything—after the nights he spent inside you, after the way he kissed you like he meant it—Heeseung was still the same.
Still cocky. Still stupidly attractive as he leaned against the lockers in the university hallway, a lazy smirk on his lips, talking to some girl. Did it shock you? No. Did it hurt? Absolutely.
The lump in your throat grew heavier, thick with something you refused to name. You forced yourself to walk past him, shoulders stiff, steps quick—like he was nothing to you. Like last night, when he had you moaning his name in his passenger seat, never happened.
But he didn't even look at you. Didn't glance up. Didn't acknowledge you.
Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you swallowed the sting.
Because that's what you were, right? Nothing.
Not his girlfriend. Not someone he cared about. Just another name on his list, another girl who meant nothing the second he zipped up his jeans.
And yet, you still hated the way your stomach twisted when the girl he was talking to giggled, leaning in closer. Hated the way he smirked, tilting his head like he was already picturing her naked. The same way he did to you.
Your chest ached.
You felt the bed shift, the mattress sinking under his weight. Then, warm hands—his hands—sliding over your waist, fingers pressing against your bare skin.
Soft lips ghosted along your neck.
"Who the fuck let you in?" Your voice was flat, uninterested, even as your grip on your phone tightened. You didn't turn to face him.
"Natty."
You scoffed. "Ha. I doubt it."
"Swear on my life, baby." Heeseung's voice was low, teasing, the way it always was when he wanted something.
You laughed, sarcastic.
"Missed you," he whined, arms tightening around you, his tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive skin just below your ear. That spot he knew drove you crazy.
"What happened to the girl you were talking to yesterday?" you asked, voice dripping in bitterness. "Couldn't get into her pants?"
Heeseung laughed—laughed—like this was all some joke to him. His hands slipped under your shirt, palms gliding up your stomach, his breath hitching when he realized—
"Fuck, no bra?" He cursed under his breath, squeezing your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple.
Your body arch, you hated it, but still reacted.
"Nah," he continued, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. "Just... nothing compared to you."
You almost wanted to choke him. But instead, you swallowed the frustration bubbling in your chest and forced your voice to stay steady.
"Your sister told me you should come home this weekend." You changed the topic, ignoring his fingers still lazily squeezing your chest.
Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh against your neck, completely unfazed.
"Huh? You guys always talk." He sounded amused, like this was cute to him.
You rolled your eyes. "Because you're not replying to their messages. Your mom worries about you."
His hands didn't stop. Of course, they didn't. He was still kneading, still playing with you, his thumbs rolling slow, lazy circles over your nipples as if you weren't trying to have a serious conversation.
He hummed in response, shifting slightly to lie back against your bed, tugging you against his chest.
"Hmm, okay." He finally said, completely casual.
You swallowed, your heart thudding stupidly at the way he pulled you in, the way he tucked you against him.
"Want to come with me?"
Your breath hitched.
You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him over your shoulder. A small smirk tugging at his lips as if he was already expecting your reaction.
Wide eyes. Stupidly hopeful heart. Fucking idiot.
"Why?" Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.
Heeseung's fingers trailed down your stomach, dipping just under the waistband of your shorts, making your breath hitch.
"What do you mean why?" he murmured, lips brushing against your shoulder. "Wouldn't it be fun?"
You clenched your jaw, fingers curling into the bedsheets.
"Right," you muttered, looking away. "Just fun."
And of course, you still said yes. Because who wouldn't want an instant vacation?
At least, that's what you told yourself. That this was just a trip. Just an escape. Not another excuse to be near Heeseung. Not another way to keep fooling yourself.
So you ignored the nagging in your chest, ignored the way he carried your bag.
Ignored how fucking easy it was to slip into the illusion of being his as both of you stepped into the small, cozy house.
The moment the door swung open, a woman who looked exactly like him rushed forward, eyes bright, a tearful smile on her face.
"I missed you, my boy!" She practically tackled Heeseung, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that even he seemed a little surprised.
He scoffed but hugged her back, his usual lazy smirk softening just a little. "Ma, I told you I was gonna visit soon. Tell Haneul to stop bothering us."
You blinked, shifting awkwardly as the woman—his mother—finally pulled back, wiping at the corner of her eyes before her gaze fell on you.
And before you could react, she hugged you, too.
Your whole body stiffened. What the fuck.
"You must be the girl Haneul keeps talking about," she said warmly, stepping back just enough to study your face. "Is Heeseung treating you right?"
Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You had no idea how to respond to that.
Your eyes flickered to Heeseung, who had already dropped both of your bags onto the couch, watching you with a raised brow, completely unbothered.
You swallowed, forcing out a tight, awkward laugh.
"We're not actually together, madam." You admitted, your voice stiff, uncertain.
His mother blinked, the warmth in her eyes faltering just slightly. "Oh."
You could feel Heeseung's eyes on you, but you didn't dare look at him. Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, heart hammering in your chest.
And then, his mother smiled. Soft. Knowing. "I see."
You spent your days with his family wearing a smile, pretending it didn't hurt to exist in this space that wasn't really yours.
His sister, Haneul, was a breath of fresh air—constantly chattering about life, relationships, and the latest dramas, seamlessly pulling you into conversations that felt easy. She told you how glad she was that you were here, that someone like you was easy to talk to, unlike her emotionally constipated brother.
"Heeseung doesn't get it," she had said with a playful eye roll, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I swear, he's impossible to talk to sometimes. But you... I can tell you actually listen."
Her words made something warm stir in your chest.
His mother, on the other hand, couldn't stop talking about him—stories of him as a child, wild and reckless, stubborn and free.
"You should've seen him," she laughed, eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "Always climbing trees, always getting himself into trouble. One time, he fell and scraped up his entire knee, but do you think he cried? No. He just looked at me and said, 'It doesn't hurt, Ma,' even though his leg was bleeding like crazy."
His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid boy still complains like hell when he stubs his toe, though."
You laughed along, your chest tightening as you glanced at Heeseung, waiting to see how he would react to their teasing. But he only sighed, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.
Later, at the sea, you sat on the warm sand, toes buried in the grains, watching the waves crash against the shore. But your eyes weren't on the water. They were on him.
Heeseung was playing with his younger cousins, his laughter echoing through the salty air as he ran across the sand, chasing after them with an easy, boyish grin you had never seen before.
His usual cocky, indifferent mask was gone. No teasing smirks. No smug glances. No careless words designed to keep you at a distance.
You watched as he scooped up one of the kids, tossing them playfully over his shoulder while they shrieked in laughter. Heeseung's eyes crinkled at the corners, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he spun them around before dropping them gently back onto the sand.
He was so different.
This version of him—the one who smiled without arrogance, who laughed without restraint, who looked so effortlessly warm and real—was a version you had never been allowed to see before.
Then, as if feeling your stare, his gaze flicked up to meet yours.
Your breath caught.
His lips curled into a familiar smirk, the mask slipping back into place, and suddenly, he was walking toward you.
Your pulse spiked.
Oh, fuck no.
You scrambled to stand, to put distance between you before he could ruin you any further, but you had barely taken two steps when strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you off the ground.
"Heeseung!" you shrieked, kicking your feet as he lifted you effortlessly, his grip firm.
He laughed, breath warm against your ear. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"
Your stomach twisted.
You should be mad—and you were—but the way he held you, the way he pressed his forehead against your temple as he spun you around, made something deep inside you crumble.
"Put me down, you asshole!" You squirmed, trying to sound pissed, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your ribs.
But Heeseung only grinned, holding you tighter.
"Not a chance, baby."
As the days of your so-called vacation slipped by, you found yourself in Heeseung's bed, again, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting shadows across his face.
Both of you lay tangled in the sheets, talking, laughing—about nothing, about everything.
You stared at the ceiling, heart pounding a little too fast, stomach twisting a little too tight.
Was it casual for the both of you to stay up until 4 AM, talking shit about the people you hated, exchanging knowing glances as you made fun of your professors, the fake smiles of people you both barely tolerated?
Was it casual to hear him laugh—really laugh—not that cocky, arrogant chuckle, but something softer?
Was it casual that he traced lazy patterns on your bare thigh while he talked?
One second, you were talking. The next, his lips were on yours, hungry, as if he couldn't help himself.
What was supposed to be one last fuck before sleep turned into something more, something too much. The way he touched you was different tonight, his fingers coaxing sounds from you you didn't even recognize as your own. The way he fucked you was relentless, teasing, overwhelming, pushing you past your limits until you squirted—until you were too tired to move, too weak to even change the sheets.
So you stayed there. In the mess of it all.
The damp sheets clinging to your skin, the scent of sex still lingering in the air, the weight of him pressed against you.
His arms draped lazily around your waist, pulling you close. His head resting on your chest, his breath warm, steady, as he slept so soundly—like he didn't just ruin you all over again. Like this wasn't killing you inside.
You lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the way his fingers twitched in his sleep, the way his breathing hitched slightly before evening out again.
On the last day of your stay, the two of you sat at Heeseung's childhood hideout—a small, secluded clearing behind his house, nestled between overgrown trees and old memories he never talked about. The sky was dark, the moon barely peeking through the leaves, and the only sounds were the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crackle of burning cigarettes between your fingers.
Heeseung exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his head tilted back.
"I hate my father for always shouting," he muttered, his voice flat, detached.
You watched the cigarette between your fingers, tapping off the ash, not saying anything. Just listening.
"My mother always tolerated him. Always crying, always forcing a smile, pretending he didn't just spit the ugliest words at her."
You nodded, silent, because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?
"She wasn't any better, though." He let out a humorless chuckle, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. "I love her, but I can't fucking stand how she talks about everything I should be doing. Like I'm still some little kid who needs to be told how to live my life."
You took a drag, the bitter taste settling heavy on your tongue.
"That's why I'm not fond of visiting this place."
You hummed, watching the way his fingers twitched slightly as he took another drag, like this conversation was pulling things out of him he wasn't used to sharing.
"Your sister misses you, y'know." You finally spoke, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "She told me she kinda hates you for leaving her alone."
That made him pause. His lips parted slightly, brows furrowing, before he shook his head with a laugh, blowing out another cloud. "God, I forgot you two are close."
You smiled faintly. "We always talk on the phone. She said she found me through some Facebook post where your arms were around me. She probably assumed we were friends and added me. Then the first thing she messaged me was, 'Tell your ugly-ass boyfriend to text me, or I'm disowning him.'"
Heeseung let out a real laugh at that, shaking his head. "She actually called me an ugly dick once."
"She's not wrong." You snickered, inhaling the last of your cigarette before pulling it away. "Shit, that fast?" You huffed, flicking away the short remains.
"Come try mine."
Before you could react, Heeseung took one last drag, then leaned in, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers warm against your skin.
You froze as his face came closer, his lips parting slightly, and then—he exhaled.
The smoke passed between you, warm and heady, sinking into your lungs as your lips hovered inches from his.
His nose bumped yours, eyes dark and lidded, waiting.
Your mouth opened, your lips brushing against his, and then—he kissed you. Tilting his head, as he deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours, tasting of smoke.
As you broke the kiss, your fingers ghosted over his, plucking the cigarette from his grasp. You kept your eyes locked on his, refusing to look away.
You took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle in your lungs before exhaling, the faint haze lingering between you.
"I love you, Heeseung."
The words left your mouth like a gunshot.
His smile faltered.
"Not just love that wants to fuck." Your grip on the cigarette tightened. "I want to date you. Take me on a date. Buy me flowers. Be my boyfriend."
Heeseung just stared at you.
"Let's go back." No hesitation, no acknowledgment, like you hadn't just laid your heart out in front of him.
He stood up, grabbing your hand as if nothing had happened, pulling you up without meeting your eyes.
"Heeseung, I love you." Your voice was firmer now, but he walked faster, avoiding it, avoiding you.
Your stomach twisted. Your fingers curled around his wrist, trying to stop him from running away.
"Heeseung, I said I love you." You said it louder this time, forcing him to hear it, forcing him to acknowledge the words that hung between you like a curse.
Heeseung let out a sharp exhale, pushing the house door open.
His parents looked up as you both entered, his mother smiling sweetly.
"Oh, I was just about to cook your favorite—" she started.
"I'm gonna go shower," he cut her off, already heading toward the stairs.
"Okay, come down after," his mother replied, still warm, still gentle, still unaware of the way her son was running from you.
You swallowed hard, forcing a smile at them before following him upstairs, your heart pounding against your ribs.
Heeseung entered his room without a word, shrugging off his jacket, then his shirt. You watched as he stripped without hesitation, his toned back flexing before he disappeared into the bathroom.
"Heeseung, say something." Your voice cracked,
He turned on the shower, stepping under the stream of water, not even looking at you as he finally spoke.
"I'm gonna take a bath. It's either you leave—" He finally turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours, voice dropping lower. "—or I'll be fucking you."
Your breath caught.
There it was.
The only thing he could offer you.
Your fingers trembled at your sides. The ache in your chest was unbearable, clawing at your ribs, threatening to break you apart.
You should leave. You should. You should turn around, walk out, let this be the moment you finally let him go.
Your vision blurred. You felt the hot sting of tears slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.
Fuck it.
Before you could think, before you could let the pain settle, you reached for the hem of your shirt, tearing it over your head. Then your shorts, your underwear—every piece of clothing stripped away, tossed carelessly onto the floor.
When you looked up, Heeseung was staring.
The steam from the shower curled around him, water sliding down his bare chest, dripping from his hair. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you.
You stepped forward, your skin meeting the warmth of the bathroom air, your bare feet silent against the tile. Heeseung didn't move, didn't pull away as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his.
His skin was hot, wet from the water, his breath shaky as your lips brushed against his.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers slipping into his damp hair as you tugged him down, your lips brushing over his—soft at first, then deeper, needier.
Your toes curled against the cool tile, your body tilting, stretching to reach him, but he was too fucking tall.
He let out a quiet chuckle at your struggle, hands sliding down to your waist, gripping tight as he adjusted, leaning lower to meet you, kissing you back.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his tongue tangled with yours, deep and slow, tasting of heat. Your body burned as his hands roamed freely.
His fingers slid up, trailing to your breasts, squeezing, kneading, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, arching against him.
Your hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his hardened cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.
Heeseung groaned, his grip on your breast tightening for a moment before his head dropped against your shoulder, breath heavy, unsteady.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips twitching slightly into your touch.
Your lips curled, satisfied, pressing kisses along his jawline, teasing nips along his skin. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, the way his breathing hitched as you kissed your way lower, lower.
Until you were kneeling in front of him.
Face to face with his cock, thick and throbbing, precum already dripping from the flushed tip.
His hand curled into your hair, you look at him with your eyes before slowly putting his tip on your mouth. Then—slowly—you parted your lips, letting the flushed tip press against your tongue before taking him into your mouth.
Heeseung groaned, his grip tightening, his hips giving a slight, involuntary jerk forward as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper. The warm water from the shower dripped over both of you, rivulets sliding down his abs, over the flex of his thighs.
Your tongue dragged along his shaft, tracing every ridge, every vein, before pressing flat against the underside as you swallowed him further. His breath came out in a shudder, his jaw clenched as he watched you—watched the way your lips stretched around him, the way you let him slide deeper, let him use your mouth the way he wanted.
His hips began to move, slow at first, then rougher.
"Fuck—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice wrecked as you took all of him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choked, eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away.
One of your hands slipped between your own legs, fingers pressing against your aching cunt, rubbing slow circles over your clit as you lost yourself in the mix of pain and pleasure.
Heeseung’s gaze flickered down, and the sight of you touching yourself while sucking his cock had his restraint snapping.
"Shit, you’re too good for me." His voice was nothing but a rough whisper, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting tile.
His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, forcing you to take all of him, tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. He stopped suddenly, backing away.
You gasped for air, lips swollen, throat raw. But before you could process the loss, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet.
Your back hit the cold, slippery wall as he spun you around, his chest pressing flush against you, trapping you there.
The heat between you was suffocating.
You moaned as his cock slid between your thighs, not inside you yet—just teasing, just rubbing against your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness. He moved slow, dragging himself along your entrance, letting you feel every inch before he pushed in.
You gasped, your nails scraping against the wet tile as he filled you completely, stretching you, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you still as he buried himself inside you to the hilt.
"Fuck—" Heeseung panted against your shoulder, his breath hot, ragged, his body shuddering at the feeling of you wrapped around him.
He started slow—savoring it, dragging it out, rolling his hips in deep, deliberate strokes that had you clenching around him, your legs trembling.
His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, needier, the sound of skin against skin mixing with your ragged moans. Your knees buckled, your body going weak, but his arm wrapped around you before you could collapse, pulling you closer.
Then, without warning, he hooked one arm under your thigh, lifting your leg, changing the angle.
You cried out his name, your head falling back against his shoulder as he slammed into you deeper, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.
"You sound so good moaning my name—fuck—but keep quiet for me, baby, hmm?" Heeseung whispered against your ear.
You tried—tried to muffle your moans, biting your lip so hard you nearly drew blood.
But when his hand slid up, fingers tweaking your nipple, and his other hand dipped lower to rub slow, cruel circles over your clit, you couldn’t hold back.
"C-close," you choked out, pressing your forehead against the wall, your body tightening around him. "Can I? Please, please—"
His fingers moved faster, his thrusts turning relentless, dragging you to the edge.
"Shh," he hushed, his free hand moving from your breast to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.
Your orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling violently as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls fluttering around him as you came hard, legs shaking.
But Heeseung didn’t stop.
Didn’t even slow down.
He spun you around effortlessly, lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the wall, thrusting up into you with reckless abandon.
You were whimpering, your body too sensitive, too raw—but the way his cock hit all the right spots had you falling apart all over again.
"Fuck, take it," Heeseung groaned, his grip on your hips bruising.
You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but feel.
Your hands slid into his wet hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pushed it back, forcing yourself to look at him—really look at him.
His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his lips parted as he moaned your name.
You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, forcing his gaze onto you.
So close. So yours.
Then, with a sharp gasp, his hips stuttered, his cock twitching deep inside you.
And as your walls tightened around him once more, dragging him over the edge, his mouth met yours in a desperate, messy kiss, swallowing each other’s moans as he spilled inside you.
His grip on you tightened, his thrusts faltering, his body shuddering as he rode out his high.
You stayed close for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in sync.
Heeseung let out a soft exhale before slowly lowering your feet to the ground, his hands slipping from your body.
You blinked up at him, searching for something—anything—in his face. But he was already turning away, reaching for the soap, brushing his hands over his own body as if nothing had just happened.
A pang of disappointment settled deep in your chest.
Your thighs trembled, his release still dripping out of you, and without thinking, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. Holding onto him like he wouldn’t slip away.
But he froze.
And then—slowly, carefully, deliberately—he peeled your arms off of him.
Your throat tightened.
Heeseung didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you. Instead, he grabbed the soap again, rubbing it between his palms before sliding his hands over your body—cleaning you.
You wanted to say something. Wanted to break through whatever invisible wall had gone up between you.
But the only sound was the running water, washing everything away.
That night, you sat beside Haneul at dinner, forcing a smile, forcing yourself to act normal even though everything inside you was crumbling.
Heeseung didn’t look at you. Instead, he shoveled rice into his mouth, nodding along as his parents talked.
You forced yourself to eat, each bite turning to sawdust in your mouth. Forced yourself to laugh at his father’s jokes. Forced yourself to swallow the bitterness burning in your throat.
And when it was time to leave, Haneul hugged you tightly, her shoulders shaking as she clung to you.
"I’m gonna miss you so much," she sniffled, pressing her face into your shoulder.
You hugged her back, blinking rapidly, trying not to cry too.
You felt so loved in this house—by everyone except the one person you wanted it from the most.
The train ride back was worse.
Heeseung sat beside you, but he never looked at you. Never spoke.
It was like you were nothing more than a stranger sitting next to him.
You swallowed the ache in your chest and slowly lifted your hand, brushing your fingers over his, searching for something—anything.
His eyes flickered down, annoyance flashing across his face as he pulled his hand away like your touch burned him.
You felt your stomach drop. You turned your head, staring out the window, your fingers curling into your lap as you fought the stupid tears stinging the back of your eyes.
But at least you confessed, right? At least you let your feelings slip through the cracks. As long as Heeseung kept coming back to you, it had to mean something.
Right?
The following days were harder.
Because you were the one who kept coming back.
You were the one who kept bothering him, knocking on his door late at night, spreading your legs for him just so he would let you stay.
You were the one whispering soft "I love yous" against his skin, hoping—praying—he’d say it back.
But he never did. And every time you tried to reach for him—tried to hold him, tried to kiss him just because, not just when he was fucking you—he would sigh, irritated, pulling away with that same tired look in his eyes.
"Go bother someone else."
But you still stayed. Because you told yourself that this was enough. That loving him, even like this, was enough. That if you gave him more time, if you loved him hard enough, he would eventually love you back.
But then—why did it feel so awful?
So fucking awful knowing that he was only good to you when he wanted something?
So fucking awful when you reached for him, only to be pushed away?
So fucking awful when he sighed every time you whispered "I love you," like you had ruined the moment?
You kept crying at night.
At first, it was quiet—silent tears soaking into your pillow, muffled sobs that you convinced yourself were just temporary. But the more the days stretched on, the worse it got. The exhaustion, the emptiness, the way everything felt so fucking heavy.
You were barely sleeping. Barely eating.
By the time you dragged yourself to class, you were nothing more than a walking corpse—a ghost of yourself, barely functioning, barely holding it together.
Julie and Natty tried to pull you out of it. They dragged you to cafés, talked about mindless things, gossiped about the latest drama, hoping it would distract you.
But nothing worked. Your mind was always somewhere else. On him.
And when that didn’t help, when you couldn’t sit still in a crowded café pretending you weren’t falling apart, you found yourself outside. Leaning against a streetlamp, standing in the corner of an alley, a cigarette dangling from your lips as you smoked, staring blankly at the city around you.
You had never been much of a smoker before. But now, it was routine. Now, it was something to do when you didn’t know what else to do.
Because Heeseung wasn’t in his dorm. Because Heeseung wasn’t texting you back.
You stared at your phone, debating whether or not to message him again—just one more time, just to see where he was, just to make sure he wasn’t with someone else.
But you already knew the answer. Sunghoon told you he had been partying. Of course, he was.
Drinking, dancing, probably fucking someone else—living his best fucking life while you were here, wasting away in your own misery.
You were miserable, weren’t you? Pathetic.
In love with a guy who never gave a shit about you, who only saw you as another body count—another name in his phone.
Fuck him.
"You need to get over this, babe," Julie said, dragging you into the mall, her fingers gripping your wrist like you might try to run.
"Stop acting like your whole life revolves around some asshole." Natty huffed, shoving a pile of clothes into your arms. "Try something new. Get a haircut. Get a piercing. Do something instead of moping around like this."
So you did.
You let them drag you from store to store, let them pick out outfits you barely looked at. You even sat through a piercing appointment, letting them stab metal into your skin—a new helix, a capital piercing, even one in your septum.
But none of it helped. Not really.
You still looked like someone who had stopped caring.
Your hair had grown wavier, messier, tangled from nights spent tossing and turning in a bed that still smelled like him. Your makeup was smudged from crying too much, sleeping too little.
And now—here you were. Sitting in a restroom stall, your fingers fumbling with another cigarette, the cold metal of your piercings pressing against your skin as you exhaled shakily, trying not to break down again.
But the tears came anyway.
You curled over yourself, palm covering your face, inhaling deep, shaky breaths as the nicotine burned down your throat. Why him? Why did you let yourself get so lost in someone who only reached for you when it was convenient?
Why did you still miss him—even now?
You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to push the thoughts away—
"Okay, okay, I'll send you the links we need to order. Stop being stupid and listen to me! It’s a birthday party, okay? Not a damn Halloween—God."
Your head snapped up. A voice that is sharp and masculine.
Wait—
Did you just walk into the men’s restroom?
"Agh, what the fuck, it reeks of cigarettes in here."
Your stomach dropped.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to put out the cigarette as quickly as possible, waving away the lingering smoke. The last thing you needed was some random guy judging you for being an emotional wreck in the bathroom.
You waited. Listening.
When silence stretched, you assumed he was gone.
But the second you stepped out of the stall— You froze.
And so did he.
Standing at the sink, washing his hands, was a guy you had never seen before. His dark hair was down, strands still damp from the rain outside. His skin was pale, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. His nose was sharp, lips plump and pink, his hooded eyes watching you with a mixture of confusion and amusement.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
Then, his gaze flickered to the restroom sign by the door.
Then back to you.
He grabbed a napkin, drying his hands before picking up his phone, ending the call mid-conversation.
"Are you a trans man?"
Your face burned.
"No!" You blurted out quickly, biting your lip in embarrassment. "I—I’m sorry, I thought this was the female restroom, and—uh—sorry about the smell."
The guy in front of you let out a small, amused hum, his lips twitching, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he dug through his bag, fingers searching for something until he finally pulled out a small candy, offering it to you with an outstretched palm.
"Here. Eat this."
You blinked, staring at him.
"Not judging or anything," he continued, shrugging, "but cigarettes smell disgusting in your mouth. What if there’s an emergency and you need to kiss someone?"
A small, breathless laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.
"There’s no someone," you muttered, taking the candy from his hand. The moment it touched your tongue, the sharp sweetness cut through the bitter taste of nicotine.
The guy tilted his head, watching you with a slight smirk before rummaging through his bag again. A second later, he held out a small travel-sized bottle.
"You need perfume?"
You frowned. "Do I smell that bad?"
"Hey, I’m just offering," he said, grinning.
You sighed but took it anyway, spraying a little on your wrist before rubbing it against your neck. The light, citrusy scent replaced the stale stench of smoke.
Both of you walked out of the restroom together, passing by an older man who had been about to step inside. The second he saw you, his eyes widened in horror, and he muttered something under his breath while making the sign of the cross.
"God forgive these teens," the old man whispered, shaking his head as he entered the restroom.
The guy beside you rolled his eyes. "Drama queen."
You laughed, and he turned his head slightly, studying your face.
"See you later," he muttered before walking away, but then he hesitated for just a second, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Oh, and don’t smoke."
Soon enough, you were right back where you always were.
In his dorm. In his bed. In his arms, like nothing had changed.
The second you saw Heeseung, you collapsed onto his bed, clinging to him, hugging him tight like you hadn’t been falling apart for the past few days.
"Where have you been?" you asked, burying your face into his chest.
You felt his body shift slightly as he looked down at you, eyes scanning your face.
"What happened to you?" His voice was unreadable.
His gaze flickered to the piercings on your ears, your new septum, the slight dark circles beneath your eyes that no amount of concealer could fully hide.
Suddenly, you felt exposed.
"O-oh," you stammered, reaching up to tug at your hair. "I got piercings… out of boredom. Do they look good?"
Then, Heeseung’s eyes dropped back to his phone, completely ignoring your question.
The air shifted. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to swallow it down.
So, instead, you talked. Told him about the past few days, about nothing and everything, about all the things you wished he had cared enough to ask.
And just like always—it ended the same way.
Him, thrusting into you like he needed you to break.
Your nails, clawing at his back like you needed to hold on.
Your legs, wrapped around his waist like you were scared he would disappear if you let go.
Your body, begging for something your heart already knew you would never have.
"I love you," you whispered into his ear, voice trembling, breath shaky.
Heeseung’s movements slowed for half a second.
You held onto that second like it meant something.
"You know it’s not just casual for me," you whispered again, pressing your lips to his shoulder, desperate for him to understand. "I feel it. I know you do too."
And then—he slipped his hand away from your body. The loss of warmth was instant, suffocating, unbearable.
"Fuck, here we go again," Heeseung muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply.
You swallowed, suddenly cold, suddenly empty.
"Did you really not feel anything?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. "How do you keep coming back if it’s nothing?"
He ran a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.
"God, because your pussy is good!" His voice snapped, sharp and cruel, piercing straight through you. "You’re being so fucking clingy, it’s pathetic! I don’t want a fucking romantic relationship with you! I just want to fuck! How long are you gonna make me repeat that?!"
"What about the times we cuddle?" Your voice cracked. "The way you take care of me after? You even invited me to meet your family! Was that all just—casual? Just fucking?! How long are you going to deny this?!"
Heeseung’s eyes flashed.
"Deny?!" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Do you think any of that was special? I was just treating you with basic fucking human decency! Stop being so fucking delusional!"
The words hit harder than a slap. This was dumb love. This was pathetic love.
This was you, being fucking stupid.
Because even after all this, even after every horrible thing he had just said—you still loved him.
And he still treated you the same.
"Fuck, I miss those days that you were feisty and wild, not this annoying bitch who cry about everything."
Your vision blurred. You barely felt yourself move as you ripped yourself from his bed, scrambling to collect your clothes, your hands shaking so violently you could barely pull your shirt over your head.
You just needed to leave. Needed to breathe.
By the time you reached the door, your entire body was numb.
The only sound was the sharp echo of your footsteps against the floor as you stormed out of his dorm, not daring to look back.
Sunghoon was in the kitchen when you passed, leaning against the counter, a drink in his hand. His head lifted slightly at the sight of you—disheveled, eyes red, breathing uneven.
You ran. Ran until your lungs burned, until the cold air stung your skin, until the only thing you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps against the empty streets.
And then you screamed. Loud. Raw.
Kicking a nearby trash can with all your strength, watching as it toppled over, spilling its contents onto the pavement.
You wanted to rip yourself apart. Wanted to tear out the part of you that still loved him.
By the time you stumbled into a small convenience store, your body was trembling—anger, exhaustion, heartbreak—it all blurred into one.
You didn’t even look at the shelves. Your hands reached straight for the pack of cigarettes, slamming it onto the counter.
"Not getting anything else, ma’am?"
The voice made you freeze. Your gaze lifted, meeting a pair of soft, knowing eyes behind the register.
Oh.
The same guy from before. The one who had given you candy in the restroom.
Your eyes flickered to his name tag.
Sunoo.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, careful, like he could see right through you.
You swallowed, your throat dry. "You told me not to smoke, but here I am buying." You forced a smile, but it felt fake, hollow—like you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t falling apart.
Sunoo didn’t look judgmental. He just tilted his head slightly, watching you.
"It’s okay." He shrugged. "It’s not healthy, but if that’s what you need to cope, then let yourself be. I just said that before because, well… I don’t think smoking is good for you."
You let out a small breath, setting the pack aside. "Well, what do you suggest?"
Sunoo hummed, tapping his chin in thought. "Maybe cutting your hair? Adding another piercing? Listening to music, crocheting, doing your makeup, reading books, watching movies—there’s a lot you could do instead."
You blinked.
"You really think cutting my hair is gonna fix this mess?" You gestured vaguely at yourself.
"No," he said, grinning. "But it’s a start."
You laughed. It was small. Short. You reached for a pack of bubble gum instead, placing it on the counter. "I’ll take note of that. Just punch this in instead."
Sunoo smiled, ringing up your item. "I’m Sunoo, by the way. If you ever need someone to talk to, I can give you my number."
You hesitated. And then—you pulled out your phone. Because God knows you needed it.
Turns out, Sunoo was one year younger than you—a sophomore at your university, but an irregular student, which explained why you had never crossed paths before.
And somehow, in the span of a few weeks, he became the one person you could be completely honest with. You told him everything. Everything about Heeseung.
How you loved him stupidly, blindly, recklessly. How he used you, broke you, ignored you—but you still kept coming back.
Sunoo never judged. Never told you you were dumb for loving the wrong person. He just listened. And when you cried, he let you.
Sometimes, he would visit your dorm just to sit with you, listening as you let it all out.
You tried not to feel guilty about dumping all your burdens on him, but every time you apologized, he just waved you off.
"It’s fine," he said, "I’d rather listen than see you destroy yourself over someone who doesn’t deserve you."
And maybe that’s what finally pushed you forward. What finally gave you the courage to do what you should’ve done a long time ago.
You blocked Heeseung’s number.
At first, it made your chest feel tight, like you had just slammed a door shut on something that had been part of you for too long.
But as the days passed, the feeling of relief started to outweigh the ache.
You even made a bigger decision.
You moved. Packed up your things and transferred to a new dorm—closer to Sunoo, further from Heeseung.
When you told Natty, she cried, whining dramatically about how you were replacing her.
But deep down, she understood. She understood that if you stayed, if you kept yourself in the same routine, the same dorm, the same hallways that led you back to him, you’d never really escape.
So she helped you pack, helped you move, hugged you so tightly before you left, whispering, "You deserve better."
You changed. Not overnight. Not all at once.
But slowly, little by little, you found yourself again.
The clothes you used to think weren’t your style? You started to love them.
Sunoo helped you with your hair, trimming it, dyeing it a new color every week just because you could.
"New hair, new era," he declared, dragging you into the bathroom with a towel around your shoulders. "We’re bleaching this shit."
You let him. Because why the fuck not? It was just hair. It would grow back, just like you would.
You started going out more. Not to drown yourself in cigarettes or alcohol, not to forget, but to exist again.
You filled your days with movies, books, stupid little hobbies that made you feel something.
And little by little—you learned how to breathe again.
"Are you ready?"
"No."
"Too late, babe."
Sunoo laughed, gripping your hand as you sat in the piercing studio, white-knuckled and nervous as hell.
"I swear to God, if I pass out, you better not record me."
"Mmm… no promises." He smirked, already holding up his phone, camera locked on you.
You groaned, gripping his hand like you were giving birth as the piercer prepped the needle.
Your heart pounded. You had watched so many videos of girls fainting from navel piercings. It was supposed to hurt like hell, right?
"Okay, deep breath in," the piercer said.
You inhaled. And then you felt the pain, the sharp stabbing pain.
"FUCK, IT HURTS!" You screamed, throwing your head against Sunoo’s chest.
He cackled, arms wrapping around you dramatically, rocking you back and forth. "You’re doing amazing, sweetie."
His other hand? Filming.
The needle went through. Your stomach tightened.
The world spun around you and just like that, you fainted.
When you woke up, the first thing you heard was Sunoo’s wheezing laughter.
"Dude." He was crying, clutching his stomach, shoving his phone in your face. "I got the whole thing. You looked like you died for a second."
You groaned, pushing him away, only to catch sight of your new silver barbell piercing your navel.
…Holy shit.
You sat up, poking at it carefully. "Fuck, that was traumatic," you muttered.
"But look at you now," Sunoo grinned, helping you stand. "A hot, bad bitch. I mean, you already were, but now you’ve got a belly ring to prove it."
You rolled your eyes. "This better not get infected, or I’m haunting your ass."
Sunoo winked, linking his arm through yours. "Worth it, babe."
People stared. Everywhere you and Sunoo went, heads turned.
And who could blame them?
Sunoo? A walking crayon, decked out in loud colors, funky sunglasses, and accessories layered on top of accessories.
And then there was you. A full-on emo resurrection—black on black on black, nails painted, piercings gleaming, boots stomping against the pavement.
The two of you together?
You looked like complete opposites, but somehow, it worked. Sunoo owned the rainbow, and you owned the night.
"People are staring." You whispered as another group of girls side-eyed you both, whispering amongst themselves.
"Good." Sunoo grinned. "Let them stare. They wish they were us."
Healing cost a lot. Like, a lot. You hadn’t realized how expensive self-care actually was.
But fuck, it felt good. Manicures. Hair dye. Jewelry. Perfume. Clothes you never thought you’d wear.
You spent shamelessly, like you were trying to buy yourself back, piece by piece.
And maybe you were.
Because with every little change, every small act of putting yourself first, you started feeling lighter.
The wind tugged at your short bangs as you sat on the bench, silver headphones snug over your ears, blocking out the world.
Your fingers moved over your notebook, writing something important—or maybe not important at all—but either way, it kept your hands busy. Kept your mind quiet.
"Holy shit."
The words were barely a whisper, but the sound of your name following after made your stomach drop. Your brow furrowed, fingers tensing against the page. With a sigh, you slid your headphones to the side, glancing up.
And that’s when you saw them.
Sunghoon. Jake. Some other guy you didn’t care about.
And behind them, standing slightly apart—
Heeseung.
Your throat went dry.
"Is that you?! Holy fuck." Sunghoon gasped, eyes wide, his gaze flickering over your appearance like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
You swallowed, feeling uncomfortably exposed under their stares.
"Long time no see," Jake chimed in, taking a seat beside you without invitation. "You’re not attending parties anymore."
"You look quite different," he added, voice slow, dragging his gaze over you—your ears, your nose, your shirt—lingering a little too long on the details.
"She became an emo, bro!" One of them laughed, the word emo rolling off their tongue like an insult.
"Yeah, but she looks totally hot." Jake grinned, elbowing Sunghoon with a chuckle.
You clenched your jaw. The way they were talking about you like you weren’t even here.
The way his eyes hadn’t left you since the moment you looked up.
You hadn’t looked at him once. But you felt him.
"You moved dorms."
You finally looked at him. And regretted it immediately.
Heeseung stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring straight at you.
His gaze was unreadable, but his jaw was tight, his eyes dark, scanning you in a way that made something deep in your chest twist. Fuck this.
You pulled your headphones back on, drowning him out as you started shoving your things into your bag.
"Man, she’s back to being feisty. Heeseung’s gonna like her again."
The words were casual, amused, careless, but they made your blood fucking boil. Like you were some challenge. Some toy for Heeseung to get bored of, then chase again once you pulled away.
Fuck them for thinking you’d ever let yourself go through that again. Your movements were sharp as you snapped your notebook shut, yanking your bag over your shoulder.
You stood up. Didn’t look at them. Didn’t say anything. You just turned on your heel, ready to leave.
But before you could take a step, a hand wrapped around your wrist.
"Why the fuck did you move dorm? Why the fuck did you block me?"
His voice was sharp, tinged with anger and frustration.
You ripped your arm away, glaring at him like his touch had burned you. Heeseung felt his chest tighten at the way you looked at him.
"Our last conversation answered that." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder, walking away without looking back.
But of course, he followed. Ignoring the way his friends laughed behind him.
"Playing hard to get." One of them snickered. You didn’t even hesitate—you turned, raised your middle finger, and kept walking.
Heeseung’s jaw tightened.
"Fuck, that alone made you switch dorms?" His voice was sharper now, almost accusing. "Where are you staying? Why didn’t you tell me?"
You snapped.
"I don’t want any fucking contact with you anymore, Heeseung. Go to hell."
His steps faltered, eyes flickering across your face.
You had never talked to him like this before. Not when he ignored you. Not when he ghosted you. Not even when he broke you.
His fingers twitched.
Then—he moved faster.
Easily catching up, stepping in front of you, blocking your way.
"You told me you loved me, and now you’re acting like this?" You scoffed.
"And you have the fucking audacity to throw that in my face—when all you ever did was make me feel like shit?" Your laugh was bitter, broken, a sharp edge of something cruel underneath it.
"Yeah, Heeseung. I loved you." You spat the words like they disgusted you. His chest tightened.
"I loved you—so fucking much. Even when you treated me like I was nothing. Even when you acted like I didn’t exist until you were hard and lonely."
His lips parted. But you weren’t done.
"But I’m done. I’m fucking tired of this casual bullshit. I’m tired of pretending like this didn’t fucking break me. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, so do us both a favor—leave me the fuck alone and go find some other pussy to bury your dick in."
The words hit Heeseung like a gut punch, knocking the breath from his lungs before he could even process them. But the sting of your voice—sharp, raw, final—was nothing compared to what you did next.
You spat at his face.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
The warm, wet impact landed just below his cheekbone, sliding down his jaw, and Heeseung stood there, frozen in place, feeling the slow, humiliating trickle of it. It should’ve pissed him off. He should’ve been angry, should’ve sneered at you, should’ve thrown some cruel words back in your face just to get the last hit in.
But he couldn’t.
Because you didn’t stay long enough to see him break. Didn’t look back to see the way his entire world fucking shifted.
Didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t do any of the things he was used to. No regret, no second guessing, no lingering in the space between leaving and staying—just walking away.
That’s when he saw another man.
Heeseung watched, breath stuck in his throat, as the man approached you, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, like it was natural, like he had been doing it all along. Then, before Heeseung could even begin to comprehend what was happening, the man pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours. Right in front of him.
Heeseung’s stomach twisted into a tight, ugly knot. His vision blurred at the edges, not from tears, fuck that, but from something far worse—a feeling he didn’t want to name. His hands clenched at his sides, nails pressing deep into his palms as he tried, really fucking tried, to convince himself that he didn’t care.
And what made it worse—what made his entire body fucking ache—was the way you let that man touch you, let him kiss you, let him hold you.
Like you weren’t thinking about Heeseung at all.
You looked happy.
Not forced. Not pretending. Not putting on some fake smile to get through the moment. Genuinely happy. Like you had been set free. Like the months you spent wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in his arms, breaking apart at his hands had been nothing more than a phase—a mistake you had already wiped clean from your memory.
Sunoo turned slightly, just enough for his gaze to land on Heeseung.
The look in his eyes wasn’t smug. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t the expression of a man who had stolen something from someone else.
Heeseung hated him for it.
His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, but he forced his body to stay still, forced himself not to move, not to react, not to pull you away like he so desperately wanted to. He had no fucking right to do that. You had made your choice, and for the first time in his entire life, Heeseung was the one being left behind.
This wasn’t some game anymore.
This wasn’t like all the times before, when you would tell him you were done, but then come crawling back the second he called. This wasn’t like the fights in his dorm, when you would cry and yell and break your own fucking heart, only to kiss him breathless later that night.
This was real. You had actually left.
And the worst part was, you weren’t hurting.
You weren’t looking over your shoulder, weren’t hesitating at the door, weren’t giving him a single chance to fix this. You were just gone.
And Heeseung had never felt so fucking lost. He told himself it didn’t matter.
You were just another girl.
He could go out tomorrow, find someone new, wipe you from his body the same way he had done with every other girl before you. This was nothing. You were nothing.
Then why—
Why the fuck did his chest feel so tight?
Why did he feel like he had just been ripped open from the inside out?
He lifted a hand to wipe his face, expecting to feel the lingering wetness from where you had spit on him, but instead—he felt something else.
A single tear, slipping down his cheek.
He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head at the memory—at all the things he told you, the rules he set, the lines he swore he’d never cross.
୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader || ୨୧ word count: 0.2k || ୨୧ genre: smut || ୨୧ tags: sexual tension, pet names (kitten, pet, love, etc.), dom!sunghoon, semi-publix sex, fingering || ୨୧ synopsis: "Kitten, don't make me tell you twice." requested by anon!
↪ WANT A DRABBLE DIARY ENTRY? REQUEST ONE.ᐟ
Family dinners are one of the most humdrum experiences of your week, but you’re a stickler for tradition. As a bonus, your parents love Sunghoon and the way he treats you, his princess to love and adore both in private and in public.
Little do they know that you treat him the same way, whether it’s by his command or not.
Your parents step away from the table when they notice some family friends on the other side of the restaurant they want to greet. You wave them off with a smile, and Sunghoon sees the perfect opportunity to make the night interesting.
“Take off your panties,” he whispers in the shell of your ear.
Heat spreads to your cheeks, and you keep your wine glass pressed to your lips, unable to comprise a worthy response. In front of everyone, and especially in the company of your parents, he expects you to do this?
He puts his lips to your neck and kisses your skin, but his next words prove he’s not all hearts and flowers in response to your inaction. “Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.”
You gulp down the remaining wine in your glass before using one hand to reach down and under your dress. Tugging the underwear from between your legs until it hits your stilettos, you stuff the fabric in Sunghoon’s suit pants pocket.
He grins so wide, your parents ask about it when they make it back to the table. “Some news you both have to share?” Your mother asks with her own upturned lips.
Sunghoon makes up some excuse about his most recent promotion before he buries three of his fingers inside of you.
recently, your town has been getting terrorized by a serial killer, going by the name of 'ghostface'. of course you were scared to be his victim. imagine the sheer terror on your face — and the utter delight on his — when your fear turns out to not have been caused by your paranoia.
GENRE— ghostface au, stalker au
WARNINGS— dubcon, then noncon, and then dubcon again (you'll see what I'm talking about), both reader and heeseung are kinda fucked up, mentions of killing, mentions of stalking, knife play, fear play, reader has tits, reader's pussy gets called 'her' a few times?, fingering, cum eating, slight spit play, spit kink (?), name-calling (baby, slut, bitch, etc.), unprotected sex (don't), blood, blood play, bulge kink, clit pinching, missionary, mating press, kind of an open ending (?), NOT PROOFREAD, let me know if I missed any!
WORDCOUNT— 8.2k
NOTE— among the italicized text, if you see normal text, it basically indicates the opposite. as in, if the entire block of text wasn't italicized, then the normal text would have been in italics instead... if that helps
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
NO ONE WAS SAFE.
No matter where you resided, if Ghostface chose you as his victim, consider yourself to be dead.
No amount of protection, whether it be in the form of weapons or guards, locked doors or high security neighbourhoods — no one was safe from him.
You may ask, who exactly was ‘Ghostface’? Why, he is a renowned serial killer, one who wears a pitch black coat and a creepy mask, paired with white rubber gloves. The last thing his victims see before dying is the creepy ghostface mask smiling down at them — as said by a ghostface victim, who had miraculously survived the attack, only to die hours later in the same hospital at which he was interviewed. Reports say that the victim had been stabbed a total of twenty times, the word ‘Ghostface' carved onto his forehead. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the fact that someone survived him — even if it was only for a few hours.
Which was why everyone was scared to go out, even during the day. Till this date, no one had ever seen his actual face, his entire existence a mystery to everyone except him. He was truly an enigma, the source of both amazement and horror for all.
People were scared to even interact with each other, in case said person turned out to be Ghostface. What if they did something to piss the other person off, resulting in their death — perhaps in just a few hours from the aforementioned incident?
For an introvert like you, avoiding people came easy to you, it being your second nature. You weren't too worried about offending Ghostface, even by mistake. But no one was ever truly safe, not from the hands of a psycho serial killer, were they?
You would often find yourself peeking behind your shoulder at random times of the day, checking if someone was looking at you, or worse, following you. Perhaps it was simply due to your paranoia, combined with the increasing cases of deaths in the hands of Ghostface. Either way, your guard was always up.
You used to stay at the dorms on campus before, even when the deaths had started occurring on a daily basis. It was only after Regina — a girl who you never really liked because of her bitchy attitude — was found one morning by her roommate, completely mauled in her own dorm, lying in a pool of her own blood — did you finally feel terrified enough to move out of them, moving into a house in a slightly secluded region of the town, just around ten blocks away from campus. It wasn't a complete guarantee of your security, but it was better than nothing.
From some of the recent reports, apparently the victims of Ghostface were — stalked by him a few days prior to him killing them. Photos of the victims taken without their knowledge during the week before their death were found with their body. The police declared them to be taken by Ghostface, a fact that left you even more shaken than before.
You didn't have to be afraid of him. You were more than sure that you never did anything to piss anyone off, at least not knowingly. Surely no one could be holding a grudge against you, right? Especially not Ghostface?
Right?
IT WAS A NORMAL FRIDAY NIGHT — or as normal as it could be with the threat of becoming Ghostface’s next victim hanging heavily in the air.
Friday nights used to be the time when you danced, sang, got drunk, and hooked up, all night long at the frat parties that were held religiously every Friday. Now? Now people were afraid to look in other people's direction, in fear of provoking Ghostface.
It was truly remarkable, the way he had everyone in his chokehold. Rumors surrounding him specifically were mostly to blame for this.
See, according to many, Ghostface apparently likes to… toy with his victims before killing them. Exactly how does he toy with them?
According to the rumours, he gives them a phone call, taunting them. His voice is always distorted by a voice modulator, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.
People were already downright terrified of him, but some people who apparently thought themselves to be hilarious, often mimicked Ghostface's antics — or what the rumours about him said — and called people up randomly, with a voice modulator. They would take advantage of the fact that no one actually knew what it sounded like, terrifying people to the core.
While some did it for pranking purposes, others did it for more malicious intentions, taking advantage of people's fears. It started getting worse and worse, the fakers, that is — until the government finally declared it to be a crime to mimic Ghostface, announcing a long time in jail for anyone who attempted it.
This put a stop to the mimicking, but it only made people grow more antsy. People were always silently waiting till their turn arrived to be Ghostface’s new victim, a fact that thrilled no one, but sent a chill down their spines, everytime they even thought of it.
Tonight was especially dark. The moon was behind the clouds, the eerie darkness causing you to feel more terrified than normal. It wasn't that dark, but with Ghostface out in the open…
You decided to focus on washing the rest of dirty dishes instead, trying to get your mind off the serial killer. You had procrastinated long enough, the dishes starting to pile up. What better way to distract yourself?
You turned on the television, listening to an anime while washing the dishes. Silence scared you, — which was ironic, since you were an introvert with terrible social anxiety — the need to have some kind of sound, in the tiny and isolated house of yours, other than the sound of washing dishes, was extremely high. The only available option on the television was anime, and… well, the news. But no one wants to listen to the news during these times — all the news channels simply showed Ghostface's new victims and their mutilated bodies that lay in a pool of their own blood.
You were done with washing the dishes, putting all the plates away neatly — when suddenly, your phone rang. You peeked at the screen, your lips turning into a frown — it was an unknown number.
You wiped your hands on your pants, picking up the call, putting the phone to your ear. “Hello…? May I know who this is?”
The phone remained silent for an entire minute. Just as you were about to speak again, a somewhat distorted voice came from the other side of the call. “What's your name?”
You frowned. Why was this person asking for your name, when he was the one that called you in the first place? What a fucking weirdo.
You spoke again. “I don't wish to sound rude, but — shouldn't I be the one asking that? I mean, you were the one that called me, you know — not the other way around.”
You heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone. It creeped you out, the sound more menacing than amused. He spoke again, his voice still sounding distorted. “Aren’t you adorable?”
You were starting to feel creeped out now. Your hand was gripping the last plate in your hand tightly, not even noticing how much pressure you were using on it. You spoke in a slightly higher voice, your tone pitchy with a detectable hint of panic. “Listen Mr. Stranger — I don't know who you are, nor am I particularly curious. But you aren't fucking funny, so if you don't have anything of importance to say, I'm hanging up.”
Silence. Again. This guy was really testing your patience.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice lower… still distorted. “I would watch my tone if I were you, sweetheart. It's no way to talk to a… stranger, is it?”
You gulped. He sounded so… ominous, his tone nothing short of menacing. With your anxiety spiking, you spoke again, your voice mostly level except for the slightest tremor to it. “What do you want…?”
The guy on the other side of the call let out a hum. “To know your name, of course. You still haven't told me.”
You let out a shaky breath, your grip on the plate tightening. “But why? What is the importance of my name to you?”
He let out a chuckle, his next words making your blood run cold. “So I can know who I'm looking at.”
You almost dropped the phone, all the colour from your face draining. You managed to speak up in a shaky voice. “C-Cut the act. You're not funny — the government declared jail for the pretenders, yet you're impersonating him–?”
You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “But darling, I'm not an impersonator, am I?” His voice grew lower, an underlying threat evident in it. “You don't believe me to be one either.”
Tears stung your eyes, the hand that was clutching the plate starting to shake. You slowly put down the dish, your eyes darting frantically around your living room that was connected to the open kitchen, looking around to spot any potential threat — said ‘threat’ being… Ghostface. Even if you knew that it was pointless. If Ghostface wanted to kill you, he would succeed in doing so — no matter what obstacles he faces. “L-Look Mr. Ghostface — I barely even go out! Even when I do, I mostly keep to myself, I don't even interact with anyone. I'm sure I haven't done anything to piss anyone off — let alone you, even unintentionally! So why…”
Your voice took on a tone of desperate resignation at the end, the subtle acceptance of your fate evident in it. Ghostface cooed at your tone, his own voice sounding like that of an excited child. “Aren't you cute? Don't worry, you didn't piss me off, just — intrigued me. You're always so alone, all by yourself… I just had to find out everything about you, didn't I? You are such a mystery, one I took utter delight in unraveling. It's only fair that I get a prize for my hard work, right ___?”
With each word he spoke, his voice could be heard louder and louder, coming from somewhere around the house. Right as he finished the sentence, the side door of your house, leading to the garden outside, slammed open. Ghostface stood in the doorway, a knife in one hand, a burner phone in the other. He spoke, his voice distorted from the voice modulator.
“Right, ___?”
You let out a loud scream, the tears finally breaking free, as you turned on your heel, getting out of the open kitchen, towards the stairs. You knew from all those horror movies that running into your bedroom would be the worst possible move, but you really had no choice. You could hear him behind you, laughing as he gave chase. “Running off so quickly, darling? Won't you at least give me a greeting, welcome me into your house? That's bad manners, you know. Or did mama not teach you any?”
His voice sounded like two people, speaking at once, one of a real person, the other a distorted voice like those in old radios. It unnerved you, since his voice modulator was probably glitching due to him running. You ran into your bedroom, locking it quickly — just in time for him to bang on the door loudly.
He yelled loudly, his voice bordering on that of manic excitement. “Open the door ___! You know that the bedroom is never a smart move. Or are you a dumb baby that doesn't know the basics of survival?”
His taunting was causing your already scattered thought process even harder to get together, your hands shaking. You looked for a hiding place before he inevitably broke down the door.
Under the bed? A good idea, but he would probably think of the same. But what other hiding places could there possibly… the closet.
You quickly ran to the closet, throwing open its door. You pushed some of your clothes apart, going far inside, before pulling the clothes in front of you to make it seem as inconspicuous as possible. You sat at the back, your legs pulled up to your chest, your breathing shallow. You realised what a terrible hiding place it was, but it will have to do.
The banging grew more frantic, before he finally managed to kick down the door. You could hear his voice from inside the closet, causing you to still your breathing, to avoid getting caught. His voice was more of a menacing growl, no longer disoriented — maybe his voice modulator ran out of batteries? “Having fun princess? You're so fucking naive if you think hiding here will save you.”
He paced about the room slowly. “Where could you be hiding, hm? I hope it's not–” He dropped to his knees, peeking under the bed. “–under the bed? No, of course not. That would have been too easy. You're naive, but not that much, huh?”
But then he let out a snicker, one that almost caused you to start crying again. You could hear his footsteps again. “Or are you?”
Before you could comprehend the meaning of his words, the closet door was thrown open, his hand grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling you out, tearing a scream out of you. “Turns out you are a dumb little bunny after all.”
He tackled your struggling figure to the ground, pinning your legs with his knees on either side of you. He used one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, his other hand raising the knife, pushing it under your jaw, just a hair-breath shy of cutting into your throat. His voice sounded like a growl, an octave deeper. “Don't you fucking dare move — unless you would like me to slit your pretty little throat open. Trust me, I would take great pleasure in doing so.”
Your movements stilled, your breath coming out in short huffs. Tears were streaming down your face freely, your entire body covered in goosebumps. You stared up at him — at his mask, rather. He tilted his head to the side. “Did you have fun playing hide and seek? I hope you did, because I cannot guarantee that you will be having much fun now — it's my turn to have fun now, afterall.”
His words sent a chill down your spine. You were starting to accept your fate. Any moment now, he would slice the knife across your throat, slitting it in one clean swipe. He would laugh while watching the blood flowing freely from the wound, watching as the life leaves your eyes. It was all just a game for him, after all.
But he seemed to have different plans. He trailed his knife down, under the edge of your shirt. He slipped it inside, the cool metal making contact with your skin, the temperature difference sending a jolt through you. He traced the pointed end on your stomach, before doing something that shocked you — and gave you a hint of his true intentions.
He turned the knife sideways, sharp side facing up, before digging it into your shirt, slicing through it. The knife tore through the fabric like paper, before he threw the ruined fabric in some random corner of the room. You gasped at the cold air, squirming slightly. He pressed the knife above your stomach warningly. “Sit still darling. Or else I won't hesitate to cut up your useless body.”
Tears stung your eyes again at his words. But you stilled, too eager to survive. Your eyes suddenly widened as you saw him slip the knife under the middle part of your bra, before slicing it open. You gasped as he threw the discarded fabric away, the cool air hitting your boobs, your nipples instantly hardening. You were suddenly acutely aware of the precarious position you were in, unable to stop the heat creeping up your neck, as you noticed his intense gaze on your tits.
He gave you a warning look from behind his mask, his knife coming back against your throat. “One wrong move, and your throat will get sliced open.” He let go of your wrists — watching as you kept them in the same place. He smirked under the mask at your pliancy, his gloved hand coming to pinch your hardened nipples.
You let out a tiny shriek of surprise at the feeling of his rubber clad fingers groping you, unable to resist a whimper as he squeezed your mounds. He was merciless in the way he groped you, squeezing and pinching, completely unaffected by your whimpers and gasps — it was exhilarating.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back a whine, as he twisted your nipple in between his fingers. You desperately tried to ignore the heat that was pooling down in your lower stomach, your heart racing.
He pinched your nipple again, squeezing your left tit roughly. He felt you shudder underneath him, the usual thrill that came with threatening his victims, running through his veins.
Yet, there was something else — an almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing, a flicker of… heat in your eyes, despite the situation you were in. Curious, he slightly moved his knife away from your throat, but not enough to make you feel any less threatened. “What's this…?”
You looked into the eyes of his mask, gulping audibly. He pinched your nipple again, tearing out a whine from you. His eyes narrowed at your reaction. He wasn't dumb — he knew when someone was turned on. But… in this situation? With a knife to your throat? Your life in his hands? It made no sense. Still — his body responded, his pants tightening.
He slowly dragged the knife down, in between your breasts, pausing at your stomach. He looked up at your face, searching for any sign of fear, or even defiance — nothing.
Instead, he saw your lips parted slightly, your breath hitching — he swore he saw your pupils dilate. He let out a shaky breath, his voice laced in disbelief. “You…”
His grip tightened noticeably, curiosity and annoyance warring in his expression. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The realization sent a jolt of dark excitement through him. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Sick bitch.”
You let out a whimper, shaking your head frantically, in denial of the whole situation. Still, your thighs rubbed together involuntarily, trying to quell the ache between them.
An almost menacing chuckle escaped him as he registered your movement. His free hand moved to pin your thighs down, trapping them between his own once again. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, feeling his control slip. "You're really getting off on this?”
You let out a whine, squirming slightly. He stared down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never been this close to losing control before. But the way you were reacting, the way you were looking at him — it was driving him insane.
"I should cut you," he growled, the knife trembling against your stomach. Your eyes fluttered slightly at the threat, a slow exhale leaving you. You couldn't understand your own body. Why, the fuck, were you reacting the way you were?
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. The knife lowered incrementally. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was incredulous, though tinged with reluctant awe. "Getting turned on by someone threatening you?”
Your eyes stung with tears at his words, your body reacting in the completely opposite manner — your thighs clenched, an almost pitiful whimper leaving you.
He watched your body language, the tears welling up in your eyes — a strange mix of emotions hit him. He dropped the knife to his side, as one of his gloved hands slid up to grip your jaw firmly. "You're fucked up." He whispered, anger and desire clashing in his voice.
You gulped, only just realising that your hands were free. Yet you made no attempt to move them.
His grip tightened on your jaw, leaning in until his face was almost touching yours — his mask, rather. His breath was ragged, mingling with yours. "Is this what you wanted?" he snarled, though the bite was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion, mixed with arousal. "To get me all worked up?”
You whimpered at the pressure on your jaw, your nails digging into your palm, as you clenched your fists. You were so, so painfully aroused.
A rough sound caught in his throat as he stared down at you, fighting an internal battle. He originally just wanted to play with you a little, make you feel worthless — like trash that he could easily dispose of. Disposing you was exactly what he had planned to do, although now that plan was no longer going to be put into action — at least for the time being.
He threw the knife away, causing it to clatter to the floor. His other hand moved to your hip, digging into the flesh there. "You little…”
You winced at his grip, your nose scrunching up in pain. You stared up at him, tears still evident in your waterline.
That was his last straw. He took off his mask, allowing you a brief glimpse of his face. His last semblance of control shattered, as he cut himself off, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue forced its way in, tangling with yours demandingly. He kissed you like he was trying to punish you, to make you pay for the effect you were having on him.
Your eyes widened in shock, as you gasped loudly into the kiss. You tried to kiss him back, to match his pace — all in vain. His lips were punishing, intending to make it hurt for you. Unfortunately all it did was make you crave for more.
He finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. His heart was racing, his mind reeling. "What the fuck is going on…?" he muttered, his voice shaking with a combination of anger and awe. "You're supposed to be scared, not turned on."
You gulped. Your senses were starting to blur, all of them zeroing in on his touch and his voice. It was painstakingly weird how you were reacting — how he was reacting to you. But damn, you enjoyed it — so fucking much.
He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a fierce intensity. "Say something, fuck. Explain this." His hands remained gripping you, betraying his conflicted desire and frustration. "I'm trying to terrify you and instead..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.
When you didn't immediately respond, he growled low in his throat. His hands tightened around you, his body pressed flush against yours. "Fucking talk, you little bitch. Tell me why the fuck you're so turned on right now."
Your breath hitched, your mind going blank. He was insulting you, his voice carrying disgust — you fucking loved it.
A dark smirk crossed his face at your breath hitching, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Look at that — all worked up, can't form words…" He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Does it make your pussy throb when I threaten you?"
Your eyes widened at the sudden crude language and the bluntness in his voice, your skin pricking, panties practically sticking to your cunt. He was right — your pussy did indeed throb when he threatened you.
Suddenly, you realised that you recognised him. He was Heeseung, one of the most popular guys at your college.
You remembered having interacted with him just once, when he bumped into you back in your first year. He was your senior, who immediately apologised to you after that, helping you pick up your books. He walked with you for a while after that, forcefully engaging you in small talk. He didn't seem to mind your short answers or your eagerness to get rid of him at all, continuing to talk — until a friend of his called him to go to class, causing him to reluctantly stop his rambling, waving you bye and leaving.
You remembered finding out all about him that very day during recess, overhearing his name from the table next to yours in the cafeteria. It was a group of girls, who seemed to be gossiping in what they thought were hushed voices… only, they weren't. You could hear every word.
They were specifically talking about Heeseung, about how hot he was, how smart he was — both book smart and street smart. You remembered mentally rolling your eyes at their fawning, before a certain piece of information had caught your interest.
They mentioned him to be a prude, never showing interest in going into relationships or even casual hook ups. Apparently, he had never gone on a date with anyone, politely turning down everyone who asked. It seemed rather odd of him, since he seemed like the dream package.
This incident had occurred a year before the killings first started. Nevertheless, Heeseung was never the kind of guy who seemed to be capable of something as shockingly gruesome as this. The thought made you sick to your stomach, a nasty feeling under your skin.
You snapped back into the present time, looking up at him, truly looking at him. He barely looked anything like the Heeseung you met during freshman year. His smirk grew wider at the sudden realization on your face, his hand moving to gently squeeze your throat. He was going to have to have a talk with you about college later on. Right now, he had more important things to focus on. For instance, how aroused you were from your life being threatened. "Yeah, that's it. Your little heart races and your pussy gets so fucking wet when I scare you." He leaned back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.
He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, his hand still gently squeezing. "You're a fucking mess, you know that?" Heeseung leaned in again, his lips just a hair's breadth from yours. "A little slut who gets off on being threatened.” His words were a whisper against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. "And you know what the worst part is? I think I might actually like it." He pulled back, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race.
You stared up at him, your breathing slightly shallow, begging him with your eyes to touch you. Heeseung let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable." His hand slid from your throat, trailing down your chest teasingly. "Here I am, supposedly threatening you, but we both know it's me who should be terrified.”
Your back arched into his touch, a small whine leaving you. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts. "Look at that — arching into my touch like a fucking bitch in heat." His hand continued down, tracing the curves of her body possessively.
You whined at his words, your back arching even more. You let out whimpers, shaky exhales leaving you. His eyes flashed with wicked amusement at the sound. "Oh, listen to those whimpers. Pathetic." He pinched your nipple abruptly, twisting just to the point of pain. "You're so fucking desperate for it, aren't you?”
You let out a loud gasp of pain, your body jolting — yet your body begged for more, a whimper eliciting from you the very next second. A smug grin spread across his face as he watched you whimper. "Five seconds ago I was trying to scare you, now look at you fucking trembling for my touch." He bent down, his lips grazing against your neck, as he nipped at your skin. "What does that make you?”
You gulped. His teeth dragged over your pulse point, marking your skin. "It makes you a needy little slut, doesn't it?" His hand finally reached your thigh, gripping it possessively. "A slut who can't get enough of my touch, no matter how much she pretends to be afraid.”
You whined, begging for more. "Mmm… that whine is fucking music to my ears." He abruptly lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he pressed his hard cock against you. "Don't you see what you do to me? All of that bullshit where you pretended to be scared…”
You let out a shaky moan, pressing back against him. Heeseung silenced you with a brutal kiss, biting your lip to keep you quiet as he rubbed himself against you through your clothes. "You think I'm scary?" He growled, his hands roaming over your body possessively.
You let out sharp gasps, your voice coming out shaky. “A b-bit–?”
He bit your bottom lip harder, pulling back with your lip caught between his teeth. "Shut. Up." His voice was rough, commanding. "You don't get to smart-mouth me while you're practically dripping." He let your lip go with a sharp tug, making you whimper.
You bit your lip to muffle any further noises. His eyes darkened dangerously as he noticed your silence, one hand capturing both wrists above your head once again, while the other trailed down to your center. "Not going to lie, but princess? The way you just submitted to me like that?" He pressed against you meaningfully. "Fucking hot.”
You whimpered at his touch, your hips bucking up, pressing into his hand. He pushed his hand inside your shorts, his fingers finding her soaked panties, rubbing against your clit through the fabric. "So fucking wet. And you know what?" He rubbed faster, his thumb pressing against your clit. "I fucking love it." He released your wrists to grab your face, forcing you to look at him.
You let out a loud whimper at his sudden grip. His fingers continued their torturous rhythm, watching your expression carefully. "You're supposed to be terrified, remember?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Shouldn't you be trying to push me away instead of grinding against my fingers like a good little slut?”
You bit your lip, staring into his eyes, trying to prevent yourself from moaning out loud. His free hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you flush against him, as he continued his movements. "You're a fucking liar." He growled, his fingers moving faster. "Admit it. You're not afraid of me. You're so fucking turned on.”
You let out a choked moan, grinding back onto his fingers. He grinned sadistically, his fingers finally moving your panties aside to slip inside you. "Mmm, look at that." He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot perfectly.
You let out a loud gasp, your back arching. You could see stars at the back of your eyes, that's how good it felt. He thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "You're so fucking tight. And wet." He leaned down to bite your neck, hard, sucking a bruise on your skin. "I bet my dick would fit perfectly in this pretty little cunt.”
You clenched around his fingers at his words, the thought of it making you crave even more. His fingers continued their relentless pace, feeling you clench around him. "You haven't answered me." His voice was low and dangerous. "Is that silence because you're afraid? Or because the thought of me fucking you is making you even wetter?”
You gulped, choosing to stay silent. He nuzzled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, as he spoke. "Let me make it easier for you. Answer this." He thrust his fingers deeper. "Am I scaring you? Or turning you on even more than before?”
You let out a moan at the feeling of his fingers hitting deeper. His fingers curled harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Ah, fuck, that's it." He pulled his fingers out, using the wetness to rub against your clit before shoving them back inside. "You're turned on. Impossibly so.”
He pulled his fingers out again, this time using his thumb to rub your clit in tight circles. "You're so fucking turned on, you can't even answer properly." He pressed two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit her g-spot again.
You let out a loud moan. He chuckled darkly as he felt your moan vibrate through your body. "That's it, princess. Don't hold back." He pumped his fingers harder, the wet squelching noises filling the room. "Your pussy is practically begging to be fucked.”
He added a third finger, stretching your cunt further. "Fuck, look at her." He pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit with all three before shoving them back inside. "Your cute little cunt is starving for my dick.”
Heeseung increased his pace, fucking you with his fingers mercilessly. "Come all over my fingers," He growled in her ear. "Show me how badly you want it." He bit down harder on your neck, hitting your g-spot perfectly as he curled his fingers.
You let out a loud mewl, your eyes rolling back into your head. You clenched around his fingers, the band in your stomach starting to coil impossibly tight. The squelching noises from where his fingers slid in and out of you at a fast pace, did absolutely nothing, but cause an embarrassed flush to creep all over your face and neck.
He pressed down on your clit with his thumb, rubbing on it sloppily. Your abundant slick helped him do just that, the pace of his fingers growing harsher, mirroring his buddying frustration. A low growl bubbled in his throat, as he forced his fingers to go in deeper, trying to practically force an orgasm out of you. Needless to say, he succeeded soon enough, your back arching with a loud cry, your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your release practically gushing around them.
“That's it…” He coaxed, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, drawing out your release. “Look so pretty like this, all pliant for me.”
Your head was empty, completely devoid of all thoughts, your legs shaking slightly from the overstimulation. He let out a snicker at your state, bringing his hand up, in front of his face. He locked eyes with you, spreading his fingers, letting you see the strings of arousal clinging to them.
Upon seeing your flushed face, a smirk creeped up on his. Maintaining eye contact with you, he leisurely started licking his fingers clean. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of his finger to the top, collecting your cum on it, his saliva replacing it on your fingers.
Your eyes fluttered slightly, mouth parting. Heeseung took that as his que to grab your jaw and hold it open — with the same hand that he had stuffed inside you just moments ago — pushing his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue. Holding your mouth open, he gathered a wad of spit with his tongue, before leaning down and spitting right into your open mouth. He watched with hooded eyes, as your own rolled back into your head, his spit dripping down to the back of your throat.
You could feel a tingling in your pussy again, empty, aching to be stuffed. Maybe with something more than just his fingers. He noticed the slight change in your body language almost immediately, of course he did — but who was he to deny you, when you were being so good for him?
Heeseung gave you a stern look. “Behave. Be a good girl, and keep still for me, hm?”
You could only gulp in response, as he released your jaw. You watched, as he shook off the black coat — or costume, whatever it was supposed to be. You kept still, your wrists still above your head, your fists clenching tightly, mimicking your thighs. Your eyes raked over his bare torso, your gaze trailing down — eventually resting on his extremely obvious hard on in his boxers. A large patch was already forming on its front from his precum, his cock straining hard against the fabric, begging to be released.
He smirked at your gaze. Teasingly, he ran his palm over his bulge, feeling it twitch under his hand. “Like what you see baby?”
You gulped, your eyes snapping up to his own. Your breath sped slightly, wanting to do something risky. Your life was still very much in danger, but you were willing to take the risk for now.
You slowly sat up, your face now extremely close to his. He raised a brow, an unimpressed gleam in his eyes. Yet, there was a curiosity in them — wanting to know your next move.
Although your next move didn't really impress him. Quite the opposite.
You raised your hand, slowly inching it closer to his boner. His eyes narrowed at your audacity. In a flash, he reached to his side, and picked up the discarded knife, holding it to your throat. He glared down at you, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Lay. Back. Down. Unless you want me to slit your throat, cut the rest of your body up, and use your blood as lube to fuck your corpse?”
Your eyes widened at his words, your hand freezing mid air, before quickly falling back to your side. Upon receiving another pointed glare from him, you laid back down, mindful of the knife that was back in his hands. You wanted him — no, needed him to fuck you — you, not your future possibly no-longer-breathing corpse.
Upon ensuring that you weren't up to anymore tricks, he once again put the knife away — out of your reach, but not out of his. Heeseung shrugged off his boxers, his cock immediately slapping against his stomach. It left a trail of precum, which he gathered on his fingers, before wrapping that same hand around his dick. He started to slowly pump it, using his own precum to slick it up.
Noticing your almost pitifully needy expression, he let out an amused scoff, before holding out his hand under her mouth. “Spit.” He ordered in a gruff voice.
Your eyes widened slightly at his command, before you hesitantly obeyed. Gathering a wad of saliva in your mouth, you spit it into his hand, watching with hooded eyes, as he used it to jerk himself off faster.
Once he was done, he spread your thighs again, letting out a confused grunt at how much more force he needed to use as compared to last time. He glared up at you. “You and I both know you want this, princess. So stop trying to deny me what I hunted you for. Or else…”
You bit your lip to suppress a whimper. Were you sick for getting even wetter at his words? Definitely. Should you tell him to stop and possibly escape whatever he was going to do? Obviously. Will you do it? Absolutely not.
In fact, an absolutely brilliant idea struck your magnificent brain. You decided to not obey him. Him, the renowned serial killer, Ghostface. Were you basically signing your own death certificate? Well… no harm in finding out, right?
You tried to close your legs shut, something which immediately earned you a nasty glare from him. His jaw clenched tightly, as he forcefully shoved your legs apart again. His hand reached for the knife, your eyes widening at the sight. “Seems like someone hasn't learnt their lesson yet…”
You tried to beg him to not hurt you, but the words died in your throat when he pressed the knife to it. A creepy smile adorned his face, as he caressed your face in a gentle manner, a sharp contrast to the knife to your throat. “Let me spell it out for you–” Right as he said those words, he grabbed your wrists tightly, holding you under him firmly, the knife lifting from your throat. You got confused for a second, before a scream tore out of you.
He was carving something on your stomach.
He shallowly carved his initials onto your stomach, laughing as you screamed. “Squirming will only make it hurt more~” He almost sang, his tone causing you to sob.
He was finally done, watching the blood flow out of the wound, almost moaning at the sight. “Fuck baby, do you even realise how hot you look right now?”
You hated it, every single bit of it. You didn't want him to fuck you anymore, hell, you felt ashamed of yourself for ever wanting it. You felt disgusted beyond words by yourself, for having him carve his initials on your stomach to make you realise the kind of guy you were dealing with. He wasn't some hot fictional guy from the books you read, he was an actual serial killer — someone who could quite literally kill you as and when he pleased.
Heeseung seemed to sense your inner monologue. He snickered. “Suddenly regretting everything baby? That's cute… it's as if you believe you had a choice in this in the first place. Cute.”
You wanted to scream, cry, sob — all at the same time. How did you even manage to get yourself into this mess?
You didn't have much time to ponder, as he suddenly sliced his knife through your panties, finally ripping them off you. He shrugged off his own boxers, rubbing the tip of his cock along the arousal coating your puffy folds. A shiver ran down your spine, causing you to bite down on your lip. You hated it, you didn't want it — but your body couldn't deny how good it felt.
Heeseung wasn't any less affected than you. He let out a groan, his eyes shutting briefly. “See how good that feels baby? You think you don't want it, but your body says something different. See how your pussy keeps dripping all over my cock?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, tears welling up in them — tears from exactly what, you didn't know. Was it embarrassment? Pain? Pleasure? Neither did you know, nor were you keen on finding out.
With his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, he slowly pushed himself in, groaning from how easily he slid in, thanks to your slick. He let out a rough noise from the back of his throat. “Look at how your cunt is sucking me in like a slut. You sure you don't want this, baby?”
His knife had returned to your throat, his other hand gripping your hip. You could only bite your lip to muffle a whimper, your tears having broken free. He felt — good. You just wished this happened under different circumstances. When he wasn't cutting you up or threatening your life as Ghostface, maybe.
He bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. He let out a groan, his eyes falling to your stomach. They widened, noticing something other than his initials he had just carved on it. There was a bulge on your stomach. “Holy shit…”
As if in a trance, he pressed down on it with his hand that wasn't holding the knife, watching as you involuntarily arched your back. He let out a laugh in disbelief. “Would you look at that? Had no idea you were this sexy, princess.”
He didn't wait to see your reaction, pulling out slowly, before slamming back inside. He watched your body jerk at the force, the bulge disappearing and reappearing. It was so, so hot.
He put the knife away, just out of reach of you. He gripped your hips with both hands, once again pulling almost completely out, watching as the bulge disappeared, before slamming back in, watching it reappear. He effectively tore a moan out of you this time, watching in amusement as you quickly slammed a hand onto your mouth, your eyes looking mortified. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this.
You were so cute. So. Fucking. Cute.
He pulled out again, pushing back in with much more force than before, setting a fast pace. He watched with a perverse amusement, as you let out a choked scream, flailing your arms above your head aimlessly, as if looking for something to grab on to. He fastened his pace, grunts leaving his throat with every thrust.
Your screaming was gradually turning into moans, the undeniable pleasure coursing through you making your head spin. It didn't help how the room was filled with wet slapping sounds from where the two of you kept connecting, the sting from the cut on your stomach barely there anymore. You felt hot, an insatiable thirst in your pussy, being quenched by his unforgiving pace.
His thrusts never once faltered, the bruising grip that he had on your hips was starting to hurt — just a bit. He let out a small groan, his eyes once again falling on your stomach, the bulge disappearing and reappearing in it at a comically fast pace. “Hah — look s’fucking cute like t-this — just lying there like a pliant little whore — taking my cock — fuck–”
He was cut off by your pussy clenching around him, his groan cutting through the constant wet slapping from where you both kept connecting. Encouraged by your reaction, he sped up, reaching an almost animalistic pace.
Your head was starting to go blank from his pace, the way he continued to pound into your sobbing cunt had you seeing stars. His name left your mouth in a breathy moan, causing his eyes to pop out, him almost spilling his load inside you right then and there.
Without stopping his unforgiving pace, he grabbed your jaw in one hand, his nails digging into your cheeks. “Say it again — c'mon baby, moan my name again — let me hear you, fuck–”
He was cut off by you whimpering, the unmistakable sound of his name leaving your mouth for the second time. With a growl, he gripped both of your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, hitting your spot with every thrust. It had you seeing stars, uncontrollable moans and his name falling from your lips like a mantra.
He reached one of his hands down to rush harsh circles on your hardened bundle of nerves, trying to force an orgasm out of you. “C'mon baby, cum for me — squeeze my cock harder, fucking cum for me–”
The band in your stomach tightened to an impossible level, ready to snap. He pinched your clit, hard, continuing to rub dizzying circles around it. He delivered a harsh slap to it, causing you to finally topple over the edge.
Your ears were filled with a loud ringing noise, vision going white. You clenched around his length, gripping it in a vice like grip. Your cum flowed around his length, coating it completely. He groaned, as he kept pumping in and out of you, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. The sight had him pistoning out of you at a ridiculously fast pace, before burying himself to the hilt inside you. Warm, thick ropes of cum erupted from his tip, painting your insides white. He slowly grinded his hips, still inside you, ensuring that none of it fell out.
He stayed like that for a moment, before pulling out his softening length with a hiss. He fucked his cum back inside with his fingers, enjoying the way your body racked with shudders, little whines escaping you from the sensitivity.
He slowly sat up, admiring your spread out body. He brushed his hand through your hair, rubbing the sweat off your forehead. “You know,” He started, looking down at you with an unsettling smile. “I never fucked anyone I was going to kill before. Never felt attracted enough to them. But you–” He hesitated for a second, before speaking again. “I used to have a crush on you back in college. Remember when I bumped into you once? It was on purpose. I needed an excuse to talk to you. It really hurt me when I realised that you weren't interested in doing so, you know? You were the reason I never went out with anyone, either.”
You gulped, staring back at him. He had an unreadable expression on his face. “I started this — this killing streak, to get your attention. But then I started enjoying it too much — fantasizing what you would look like, all cut up and bleeding prettily for me, begging for me to let you live. It got me so fucking hard, you know? Jerked myself off to that thought so many nights. Until tonight — I knew I had to get you — kill you. Play with you a little first. Didn't think it would escalate to this though.”
He grinned, his eyes holding a kind of craziness that sent a chill down your spine. “Maybe I won't kill you…” He murmured, his hand caressing your cheek. “I’ll just… keep you. My pretty little toy, mine to use and play with, as and how I feel like. Isn't that right, princess?”
SYNOPSIS: One second, you were telling a little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the whole school thought you were dating Park Jongseong—the cold, untouchable, and ridiculously hot guitarist. What started as a desperate move to boost your reputation took a wild turn when Jay decided to go along with it. Now, you’re caught up in nonstop gossip, awkward moments, and a fake relationship that feels a little too real—especially with Jay showing a surprisingly sweet side that no one, including you, saw coming.
contains: fake dating, lots of fluffs, comedy, slight angst, strangers to lovers, reader is in 11th grade while jay is in 12th, (but both of them are over the age of 18) reader is short, jay smokes vape in the middle of the story, jay hates everyone lol warning: profanities, mentions of sex, mild smut. WC: 14.7k
song used: same ground by kitchie nadal
A/N: thank you for the 95 followers!
You were a simple girl.
Simple, average, ordinary. Not the type to snag straight A's in every class, but not failing either. You were the kind of girl teachers barely noticed—just another name on the roll call, another face in the crowd.
You liked pink—just enough to keep it cute, but not the over-the-top glittery kind.
You didn't obsess over fandoms or have bags covered in pins and but you have figurines. Your style wasn't edgy or pastel chic or anything that made you stand out. You were... balanced. Plain. Normal.
Your high school life reflected that. Simple. Average. No exciting detours.
You weren't a sports star who got their name chanted in the bleachers. You weren't a science geek impressing everyone with your brainpower. You weren't a mean girl, a party kid, or a cheerleader.
Oh, but you wanted to be a cheerleader.
You wanted to wear that uniform, flip through the air, feel the rush of the crowd. You wanted the applause, the way everyone's eyes followed them when they walked the halls.
But no one cared about a normal girl trying out.
Reputation was everything in high school, and yours? Too simple. Too... forgettable.
You could cheer. You could dance. You could pull off a backflip, a split, the whole routine. You had the skills. What you didn't have was the image.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" one of the cheerleaders asked, her voice dismissive as you landed your final jump during tryouts. You stood there, panting, sweat dripping down your face after nailing the routine.
"A boyfriend?" you repeated, blinking, stunned. What did that have to do with anything?
"From football? Hockey? Maybe Math Olympiad?" she continued, her smirk curling like she already knew the answer.
You froze. Of course you didn't have a boyfriend. You were an NBSB—No Boyfriend Since Birth kind of girl. But how was that even relevant? You were here to cheer, not audition for a dating show.
"We'll let you know if you're accepted... or not," another cheerleader chimed in, her voice dripping with boredom. She wasn't even pretending to care about your performance.
You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breathing, gripping your bag so tight your knuckles turned white. The sting of their indifference burned in your chest as you turned and walked out of the gym, sweaty and defeated.
Reputation doesn't matter, they always said. What a joke. High school was all about reputation—who you dated, who you were seen with, who you weren't.
And being a simple, average, normal girl? That just wasn't good enough.
It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself face-to-face with them again—the cheerleader tryouts.
So, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out:
"My boyfriend is Park Jongseong."
The world seemed to stop for a second. All the cheerleaders froze, wide-eyed, jaws dropping like a scene from a poorly-scripted teen drama.
"Wait—Park Jongseong?!" one of them shrieked, her voice climbing several octaves. "The hot guitarist in the band?"
You nodded, keeping your expression sweet and innocent, careful not to let your fabricated lie crumble.
"Oh my god!" Another cheerleader nearly jumped out of her skin. "He's, like, the hottest guy in school! And so... mysterious."
"He's so cold, though," another chimed in, tilting her head suspiciously. "How did you even—"
You cut her off, spinning your web of lies before she could unravel it. "Oh, it just... happened," you said with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal.
"We met at this café off campus. He asked me about my drink order, and, well..." You let out a dreamy sigh, painting a picture so vivid you could almost convince yourself it was real.
"He's so sweet. He cares about me so much. Like, he cooks for me when I'm tired, aftercare after sex, kisses me goodbye every morning, and—" You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice to a whisper. "He even lets me touch his guitar."
The gasps that followed were almost deafening.
"No way!" one of them shrieked, clutching her chest in disbelief. "Park Jongseong doesn't let anyone touch his guitar!"
You nodded solemnly, as if sharing a sacred truth. "Well, he lets me."
For a moment, you thought you'd pulled it off. You were a star in their eyes, a girl who'd managed to capture the unattainable Park Jongseong's heart.
But deep down, you knew the truth.
Park Jongseong hate everyone, especially you. And honestly? You didn't blame him.
The first time you'd crossed paths, it had been a disaster.
You'd been drinking water at your locker when he appeared out of nowhere, walking right past you. Startled by his sudden presence, you'd choked, spraying water directly into his face.
His jaw had clenched, his eyes shutting as he took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to lose his temper.
"Sorry!" you'd squeaked, your face burning with humiliation.
And then, like the socially awkward creature you were, you'd bolted down the hallway, leaving him dripping and furious.
Then there was the incident in the music room.
You'd been poking around the instruments out of boredom, your fingers grazing the strings of a random guitar when—CRASH. Your foot caught on something, and the stand holding his prized guitar tipped over, sending it sprawling to the floor.
Right at that moment, the door swung open, and in walked Park Jongseong.
You froze like a deer in headlights, your heart dropping to your stomach as his gaze landed on his guitar, then on you. His face was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.
"Uh... sorry?" you muttered, holding up your hands in a weak peace sign. Before he could say anything, you darted out of the room. You ran away, again.
And who could forget the volleyball incident?
You'd been practicing serves in the gym when he and his friends walked in. Your focus wavered for a split second, and the ball sailed in the wrong direction—straight into his face.
You gasped as blood began dripping from his nose. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you stammered, panicking as he grabbed his face, clearly in pain.
Without thinking (or, honestly, with too much thinking), you did what you always did. You ran, again.
And now, standing here, spinning lies about a romance that didn't exist, you had to fight to keep your composure.
"Wow," one of the cheerleaders gushed. "I can't believe you and Jongseong are, like... a thing!"
"Yeah," you said with a forced laugh, clutching your bag tightly to hide how sweaty your palms were. "He's... amazing."
But in the back of your mind, all you could think about was how Park Jongseong would react if he ever found out about this.
And...The story spread faster than you could have ever imagined.
One second, you were fabricating a harmless little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the entire school seemed to think you and Park Jongseong were soulmates—or worse, a thing.
And not just any kind of "thing." No. The rumors had grown legs, arms, and a whole personality.
"Is it true that Park Jongseong is... like, huge in bed?" one girl whispered as you passed her in the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.
You choked on absolutely nothing, gripping your bag as if it might save you from spontaneously combusting.
Another girl caught up to you, practically skipping alongside you. "Oh my God, how was it? You know, with him? Is he all intense and broody like he looks, or does he have a soft side?"
You stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"He's... uh... great?" you stammered, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so unconvincing.
Her jaw dropped, and before you knew it, a crowd of girls—yes, the famous girls—was swarming you, each one louder and more persistent than the last.
"I can't believe you got him to date you!"
"Wait, wait, wait—did he really let you touch his guitar? Because I heard he doesn't even let his bandmates touch it."
"What's his favorite food? Does he let you steal his hoodies? Is he ticklish?"
"Is he actually the silent-in-public, wild-in-private type? Tell us everything!"
Your head was spinning. They were everywhere, and you couldn't escape. You tried smiling naturally, nodding here and there, but the panic bubbling inside you was threatening to explode.
"Oh my God, you're not even in the cheerleading pep squad yet? How dare they still not accept you!" one girl exclaimed dramatically. She flipped her hair with a loud scoff. "I mean, I saw your audition, and it was fucking amazing."
You blinked. She definitely had not seen your audition.
"Y-yeah, um... thanks," you muttered, clutching your bag tighter and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.
It was still early, but the hallway was packed. The questions kept coming, the voices growing louder, and you were just about ready to melt into the floor.
And then it happened.
You let out a tiny squeak as someone grabbed your arm, yanking you out of the circle of girls. You stumbled, blinking in shock, and turned to see who your savior—or captor—was.
Your heart nearly stopped.
It was him.
Park Jongseong!
Jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes darker than your worst nightmares, and hair falling messily across his forehead like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.
Except he didn't look like a model. No. He looked angry.
Like, furious.
Oh, you were so, so dead.
"S-see you later, girls!" you called out, your voice cracking as you tried to sound cheerful. You gripped his arm like your life depended on it, forcing a smile as he dragged you through the hallway.
The crowd erupted behind you.
"Oh my God, they're really together!"
"I knew it!"
"They're so cute! Look at how she holds onto him!"
Your face felt like it was on fire. You could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway locked on you as Jongseong stormed forward, his grip firm but not painful. You tried to match his pace, but his legs were longer, and you were practically jogging to keep up.
You tried to focus on breathing, but the more they talked, the more you wanted to just curl up and disappear.
Meanwhile, Jongseong hadn't said a single word. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Uh, Jongseong—"
Before you could finish, he yanked open the door to a small storage room, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you with a loud click.
"Hey—what are you—"
"Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and sharp.
You blinked, startled. The room was small, cramped, and dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Shelves stacked with cleaning supplies and dusty boxes surrounded you, and the air smelled faintly of bleach.
Jongseong leaned against the door, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a frustrated sigh.
"What the hell?" he said finally, his voice laced with irritation.
You swallowed hard, gripping your bag like a shield. "I... I can explain?"
"Yeah, you'd better," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your knees feel like jelly.
"Why is everyone in this school convinced we're dating? And why," his voice dropped lower, "did I just hear someone asking if I'm good in bed?"
You winced. "Okay, so... it might've gotten a little out of hand."
He let out a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow. "A little?"
You hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Look, I was just trying to impress the cheerleaders! They don't think I'm cool enough to make the squad, so I might've... um... made up a story."
His jaw tightened. "A story? About me?"
You gave him a weak, apologetic smile. "I didn't think it would blow up like this! I thought they'd just forget about it after tryouts!"
"Oh, yeah, because rumors about me always disappear quietly," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
You bit your lip, your embarrassment growing by the second. "I'm really sorry. I'll fix it. I promise."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "How exactly do you plan to fix this? Everyone already thinks we're a couple. You should've thought about that before you opened your mouth."
"I know, I know!" you said, your voice rising slightly. "But I didn't think people would actually believe me! I mean, look at you! You're, like... you, and I'm just... me."
He stared at you, one eyebrow twitching. "What does that even mean?"
"It means no one would ever think you would date someone like me!" you blurted out.
There was a brief silence, Jongseong blinked, his expression unreadable.
"Wow," he said finally, his tone flat. "That's... depressing."
You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I'm making this worse, aren't I?"
"Yeah," he said bluntly.
You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice small. "Can you... just not kill me, though?"
He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. For a moment, he looked like he was considering throwing you out the door, but instead, he leaned back against it, running a hand down his face.
"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You're going to go out there, tell everyone you lied, and make sure my name is out of their mouths by the end of the day."
Your eyes widened. "I can't do that! If I tell them the truth, I'll look like a total loser! They'll never let me on the squad!"
"Not my problem," he shot back.
"Please!" you pleaded, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Just... let me ride this out a little longer. I'll figure out a way to fix it without dragging your name through the mud, I promise!"
He stared at you for a long moment. He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Do whatever you want," he said finally.
Your eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Don't make me regret this," he added,
"I'll do anything!" you said quickly, your relief overwhelming your sense of pride.
His eyes flicked back to yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Anything?"
You hesitated. "Uh... within reason?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, pushing off the door and opening it.
"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, panicked.
"Class," he said simply, walking out and leaving you standing there, still clutching your bag like it might protect you from the fallout.
"Oh my God, they just came out of the storage room together!" someone squealed.
Your blood froze as a wave of gasps and murmurs rippled down the hallway.
"No way! They're so freaky!"
"They couldn't even wait until after school? A quickie in the storage room?!"
"That's so wild!"
You bolted out of the storage room, your face burning so hot it was probably visible from space. "It's not what you think!" you stammered, waving your hands frantically. "Nothing happened! I swear!"
But your protests only seemed to make things worse.
"Did you see her face? She's totally guilty!"
"God, no wonder he's so obsessed with her. She's probably insane in bed."
"Wait, so does this mean she's, like, not lying about them being a couple?"
The crowd erupted into a chorus of giggles, whispers, and scandalized gasps, and you felt your soul leave your body.
At the end of the day, you got the news: you were officially part of the cheerleading pep squad.
This wasn't exactly how you pictured it, but hey, you'd finally made it. You thought practice would be all about jumps, flips, and cheers, but instead, it was questions. Endless questions.
All about your "boyfriend."
By the time practice ended, you were convinced the squad cared more about Park Jongseong than they cared about cheerleading. It was exhausting. They made him your whole personality.
Now, you stood outside the music room, foot tapping nervously as you psyched yourself up. You needed to talk to him. Jongseong—Jay—walked out with his guitar slung over his back, his expression colder than a freezer. His eyes landed on you, sharp and annoyed.
"Why are you here?" he asked, as blunt as ever.
You forced an awkward smile. "Hi! Because... you're my boyfriend?"
Jay scoffed, walking past you like you didn't exist. Panicked, you scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping over your own feet.
"H-hey! Wait!" you called, gripping the edge of his jacket. "I'm Y/N! Please, for the second time, just hear me out!"
He stopped, turned, and stared at you with the kind of look that could burn holes in concrete. "What do you want now?"
You fumbled with your bag, your cheeks burning. "I just... I wanted to talk about—"
"Fuck off," he snapped, making you flinch and throw your hands up like you were bracing for impact.
"I'm sorry!" you squeaked, your voice small.
Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shifted his weight. For a second, his eyes softened—but not enough to let you relax.
"I already let you use my name. What else do you want from me?" he asked, voice low and sharp.
You bit your lip, tapping your foot nervously. You'd practiced this speech in your head a hundred times, but the words suddenly felt scrambled.
"I just... I got into the cheerleading squad, but they keep asking me questions about you, and—"
His glare deepened. "After you spilled water on me, crashed my guitar, and hit me in the face with a volleyball, what more do you want?"
You gasped, offended. "E-excuse me?! Those were accidents!" you said, emphasizing the word with dramatic hand gestures.
"I didn't spill water on you on purpose! And I didn't crash your guitar—it fell! And your nose? Total accident!"
He turned to leave, but you panicked again, grabbing his arm and walking beside him as fast as your shorter legs could go.
"Please, just help me for a little while longer!" you pleaded.
He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at you, looking like he wanted to throw himself into the nearest trash can. "You got what you wanted. Tell them we broke up or something."
You shook your head frantically. "No, no, no! I know I'm a loser for using your name, but I need to keep this up for a few more months!"
Jay's jaw tightened. "What now?"
"I just... need some information about you," you said, your voice small. "Like, your favorite color, or your hobbies, or—"
He cut you off with a groan. "Just make something up. You're good at that."
"But it sounds fake!" you whined, stomping a little like a frustrated child.
Jay stopped walking and turned to glare at you again. "And the story about the café and me being good in bed doesn't sound fake?"
Your cheeks turned crimson. "I-I didn't say anything about you being good in bed!" you squeaked, waving your hands defensively. "I just said you were good at, uh, aftercare! They're the ones who assumed the rest!"
Jay stared at you, his face unreadable, but the way his lips twitched told you he was this close to laughing.
"So, you want more information about me so you can answer their next stupid questions?" he asked.
You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Exactly!"
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Like if I'm huge?"
Your brain short-circuited. "N-no!" you squealed, stepping back as your cheeks burned even hotter. "It's not like that!"
Jay smirked, adjusting the strap of his guitar as he stood up straight again. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Good luck with your cheerleading squad, girlfriend."
And with that, he totally walked away, leaving you standing there, red-faced and humiliated. But you weren't about to give up.
No way. You'd come too far and sacrificed too much pride to back down now. If groveling got you this far, then maybe going lower would get you what you needed.
So, you became... everywhere.
After his chemistry class, there you were, waiting outside the door with a bright smile and an awkward wave. "Hi! How was class? Did you learn anything interesting?"
He barely looked at you as he walked past, muttering, "I don't know, did you?"
At his band practice, you somehow sweet-talked your way in. His bandmates, thinking you were his girlfriend, welcomed you with open arms.
"Jay never told us you were so supportive," one of them said, grinning.
"Y-yeah! That's me! Super supportive!" you laughed nervously, while Jay sat in the corner, tuning his guitar, looking like he was plotting your demise.
But you stayed anyway, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him play with stars in your eyes. He was good—like, really good—and for a second, you almost forgot how much he hated you.
After practice, you walked out with him, chatting non-stop about your cheerleading routine. "So then Karina said I should try a - "
Jay, walking ahead of you, sighed heavily. "Do you ever stop talking?"
You froze for half a second before jogging to catch up. "Not really!" you said cheerfully, ignoring the withering glare he shot you.
During break time, you plopped down beside him in the cafeteria, chatting away about your practice. You didn't even realize you were rambling until he looked at you, his expression blank.
"Do you ever run out of words?" he asked, deadpan.
You blinked. "Uh... no?"
He groaned, rubbing his temples.
It wasn't long before your cheer squad started noticing things, too.
During one break, Yunjin leaned over, lazily plucking at her nails. "Your relationship seems so... one-sided," she said casually, enough to make your stomach drop.
"Eh?" you squeaked, your chest tightening with nerves. "W-what do you mean?"
Yunjin shrugged. "We never see you guys together. And when we do, he looks like he's about murdering someone."
You forced a laugh, your hands sweaty. "W-well, he's just... had a lot of bad days lately!"
"Jay's always having bad days when he's with you?" she shot back, raising an eyebrow.
"And you two don't even kiss in public," Karina added, leaning her chin on her hand.
Your throat went dry. "Uh, well, he doesn't like PDA," you said quickly.
The two of them exchanged looks but eventually shrugged, letting it go. You let out a quiet breath of relief, only to freeze when Karina clapped her hands.
"Y/N, you said you can do back handsprings, right?"
You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Do you need me to—"
"Great!" Karina stood, surveying the gym with a critical eye. "We need you to cover the entire formation during lifting. Can you do five in a row?"
Your eyes widened. "F-five?"
"Yeah, starting from over there." Karina gestured to the far side of the gym.
You forced a smile and walked to the starting position, nerves rattling in your chest. Everyone's eyes were on you.
You took a deep breath and started your back handsprings, nailing five in a row. When you landed, slightly dizzy, you raised your arms triumphantly.
"Hmm... it doesn't cover the right side," Karina said, tapping her chin. "Y/N, try seven this time."
Your smile faltered. "S-seven?"
They nodded.
You did as they asked, pushing through the dizziness, only to hear them call for more.
By the fourth round, you were practically collapsing mid-air. Ten was far too much, and by the end, your knees hit the floor hard, sending pain shooting up your legs.
"Oh, perfect!" Karina said, clapping her hands. "That covered the whole area. Great job, Y/N! But you need to work on your posture."
You winced, clutching your bruised knee as you shuffled to sit beside the others. The pain was sharp, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced a smile, trying to keep it together.
"I'm kind of craving boba tea," Karina said suddenly, standing up. "Who wants some?"
"Oh, me too!" Giselle chimed in, followed by the rest of the squad eagerly raising their hands.
"Perfect!" Karina said, pulling out a notepad. "Let's make a list."
A moment later, she shoved the list into your hands. "Here. And here's the money. You can go get it for us."
You stared at the list, dumbfounded. "Wait... me?"
"Yeah! Thanks, Y/N!" she said brightly, already turning to talk to Giselle about something else.
You blinked, standing stiffly as pain radiated from your knees. You didn't even have the energy to argue. Instead, you hobbled to the restroom first, tears spilling over as you washed your knees.
Violet bruises were already forming, and the cold water stung as it ran over the tender skin.
This wasn't what you'd imagined when you dreamed of joining the cheer squad.
You thought it would be glamorous—flipping in the air, cheering under bright lights, and finally belonging to something cool.
Instead, here you were, limping to a nearby boba shop with bruised knees and teary eyes.
Still, you told yourself it was okay. You were part of them now. You weren't just a simple girl anymore—you were a cheerleader. Their friend. It was normal to run errands and do things for your friends, right?
So why did it feel so awful?
As you stood in line, you checked the money Karina had handed you earlier, only to realize it was short. Way short.
You panicked for a moment, but what could you do? You had no choice but to pay for the rest out of your own pocket, all while swallowing the lump in your throat.
By the time you were walking back to school, holding a bunch of boba cups in flimsy plastic bags, you were crying. Pathetically.
Tears streaked your face, and your lips wobbled as you sniffled, trying not to let the world see how pitiful you looked.
But it wasn't their fault, you told yourself. They weren't bullying you. You were just having a sensitive day. Your knees hurt from all that back handspring practice, and the money situation had just been bad luck.
That's all.
You furiously wiped at your cheeks, determined to look normal before you made it back to the gym. But then, a voice startled you out of your thoughts.
"What happened to you?"
You nearly dropped the boba.
"Jay!" you yelped, turning to see him standing there with his guitar case slung over his back, his sharp gaze flicking from your tear-streaked face to the plastic bags in your hands—and then to your bruised, purple knees.
"I—uh—hi!" you stammered, forcing an awkward smile.
He didn't return it. "You didn't visit the music room today."
"Oh!" you exclaimed, caught off guard. "I was busy with practice. I completely forgot! I'm sorry!"
He didn't respond, just reached over and took the plastic boba bags from your hands.
You blinked at him, muttering a quiet "thank you" as he carried them down the hallway beside you.
"What happened to you?" he asked again, his tone firmer this time.
You scratched the back of your head, feigning cluelessness. "Uh, what do you mean?"
He gave you a look, and his voice dropped. "Why were you crying? And why do you have bruises all over your knees?"
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He was staring at you like he could see right through every lie you'd prepared.
"Oh, that?" You waved a hand as if it were nothing. "They made me practice back handsprings today. I just, uh, had a bad landing. But I'm totally fine! See?" You gave him a shaky thumbs-up, forcing another smile.
Jay didn't look convinced. His gaze flickered back to your knees, then to your face.
"Why? Do you care about me?" you teased, lightly bumping his shoulder with yours.
He rolled his eyes, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Without a word, he gestured toward the gym door.
"You first."
You laughed nervously, pushing the door open and walking inside.
"Oh, Y/N," Karina called out from across the gym. "Coach said we're not allowed to have boba anymore since she's strict about our diet. Did you already buy it?"
Your face fell. "Yes..."
"Oh crap!" Giselle smacked her forehead. "I texted you, but I guess it didn't go through!"
"But the boba? The money?" one of the girls asked, holding out her hand expectantly.
You hesitated, your voice caught in your throat. "I already bought it," you said quietly, glancing nervously at Jay.
Before you could say anything else, he walked past you, heading toward the bleachers. Without a word, he dropped the bags of boba onto the bench—hard. The cups jostled, some of the liquid spilling over the edges.
"J-Jongseong?!" Karina stammered, her confident tone faltering as she gulped nervously.
Jay stood there, his sharp glare slicing through the room. "Are you serious right now?" he said, his voice calm but dangerous.
Karina shifted uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in her throat. "W-we didn't mean for her to actually buy them—"
"Yeah?" he cut her off. "Because it looks like you had her running errands like your personal delivery service."
"Jay, it's not like that!" you blurted, defending them instinctively, though your voice wavered.
The room went silent. None of the girls dared to speak as Jay's gaze swept over them, so sharp.
"Is your practice over or something?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because none of you look like you're doing any cheers anymore."
Giselle quickly nodded, her voice high and nervous. "W-we're on a break!"
Jay's eyes narrowed slightly, making Giselle shrink under his gaze.
Finally, he turned to you, and his expression softened just enough to make your chest feel weird—like relief, or maybe something you couldn't quite place.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.
"H-huh?" you stammered, blinking up at him.
"Let's go," he repeated, already turning away.
Before you could argue, he noticed the way you hesitated, the way you winced with every step. His eyes flicked down to your knees, bruised and swollen, and without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.
"W-what are you doing?!" you gasped, your face burning red as you scrambled to hold onto him.
The squad collectively let out a series of audible gasps behind you.
"Oh my God, she's not like, totally lying," Karina whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Jay didn't acknowledge them. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried you out of the gym.
"Jay, I can walk!" you protested weakly, even though your knees were very much not in walking condition.
"Yeah, you're doing a great job of that," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he adjusted his grip on you.
You clung to him in stunned silence, trying to ignore the burning stares from the squad still watching as the door swung shut behind you.
Your heart raced, and whether it was from embarrassment or something else entirely, you didn't want to think about it.
"You're going to stop running around like this," Jay said firmly as he walked. "If they want boba, they can get it themselves."
"But I'm part of the team now," you mumbled, your voice small.
"You're not their errand girl," he shot back, his eyes flicking down to you.
You shut your mouth, letting him carry you to the clinic as the nurse tended to your bruised knees.
He leaned casually against the wall, watching the whole process like he was supervising. Every time you dared to glance his way, he raised an eyebrow, silently daring you to say something stupid. You wisely kept quiet.
The next day at practice, things hadn't gotten much better.
The girls were still bombarding you with questions—except now, Jay had inadvertently raised your popularity to new heights.
"He's sweet but terrifying," one of them whispered, watching you stretch. "Maybe you should get him to smile for once. He's always glaring."
"Yeah, but it's kind of hot," another one added, fanning herself dramatically. "It's like he hates everyone except her."
You snorted at that, almost choking on your own air. If only they knew the truth. But you couldn't even laugh properly because someone tapped your shoulder, pointing toward the gym doors.
"Y/N, look!"
You turned and nearly choked on your own spit. There he was—Jay—walking toward you.
The girls squealed, whispering loudly as they quickly backed away to give you "privacy."
Your stomach flipped as he approached, his dark eyes scanning the gym before locking on you. "What are you doing here?" you whispered, gripping the edge of the bleachers.
He ignored your question, dropping his bag and kneeling in front of you.
"How's your knee?" he asked, his tone softer this time as his eyes flicked to your legs.
"I'm fine! What are you doing here?" you repeated, feeling heat crawl up your neck as the gym filled with the sound of squeals and whispers.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out something.
"I bought you knee pads," he said simply, holding them up.
Your jaw dropped. "What—why?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your leg, his hands warm as he began securing the knee pad in place.
"He's so sweet!" one of the girls whispered loudly.
You tried to ignore the growing crowd of gossipers, your face burning as you stared down at him. "You really didn't have to—"
"Stop moving," he interrupted, his focus entirely on your knee as he adjusted the strap.
You sighed, crossing your arms. "Jay, seriously, what are you doing here?"
"I'll watch your routine," he said casually, moving to your other knee.
"What? No!" you exclaimed, flailing slightly. "What do you mean, you'll watch?"
He glanced up at you, a small, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "You watch me practice at the music room. It's only fair I watch yours."
"That's different!" you sputtered, your face heating further.
"How is it different?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because—because I'm not good at this yet!" you said, flustered. "What's your deal?"
"What do you mean?" he said, his voice light with amusement. "I just want to support my girlfriend."
You froze. Your brain short-circuited. Did he just—
"W-what did you just say?" you stammered, your voice cracking.
"Girlfriend," he repeated smoothly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Isn't that what you keep telling everyone I am?"
You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The giggles and gasps around you didn't help, either.
"You can't just—" you started, but he cut you off.
"Relax," he said, smirking as he turned to walk away. "Good luck with practice, babe. I'll be watching."
You watched him head toward the bleachers, still reeling from the fact that Park Jongseong, the untouchable cold Jay, just called you his girlfriend in front of everyone.
If you hadn't been blushing before, you were definitely on fire now.
The routine begins with a burst of synchronized cheers, the squad moving in perfect unison. You jump, spin, and dance, throwing in a split and a clean back handspring. When the lifting section comes, you step onto their hands with, you stick the landing, holding your pose as they lower you carefully.
You finish the routine without letting your bruised knees slow you down, your chest heaving as sweat drips down your temples.
The coach claps, giving feedback to the squad, but all you can think about is sitting down and catching your breath.
Unconsciously, you find yourself collapsing onto the bleachers—right next to Jay. He doesn't say anything, just pulls a water bottle and towel out of his bag, as if he'd been expecting you to need them.
"Here," he mutters, handing them over.
"Thanks," you say, too exhausted to overthink it. You take a long sip of water before draping the towel over your shoulders.
"How's the performance?" you ask him, still catching your breath.
"You're good," he replies simply.
You pause, blinking at him. "No, like... us. The cheering squad. How did we look?"
Jay shrugs, leaning back slightly on the bleachers, his gaze fixed ahead. "I don't know," he says, his tone casual. "I only had my eyes on you."
The water bottle in your hand almost slips from your grasp.
"W-what?" you stammer, turning to look at him.
He doesn't meet your gaze, his expression cool and indifferent, but there's a small twitch at the corner of his lips. "You heard me," he says, his voice even.
Your face heats up, and you're not sure if it's from the workout or his words. Before you can respond, one of your squadmates calls your name, pulling you back to reality.
"I—uh, thanks," you mumble, scrambling to stand.
"Don't fall," Jay says, glancing at your knees briefly before leaning back and pulling out his phone, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.
Your heart races as you jog back to the squad, Jay's words replaying in your mind. "I only had my eyes on you."
What was that supposed to mean?
Over the following weeks, something shifted. Jay did seem to like you—no, that would be too strong—but he definitely didn't hate you anymore. If anything, it felt like he had resigned himself to your presence.
Your schedules matched perfectly: you'd stop by the music room before your cheer practice, watching him play with quiet awe. After his practice ended, you'd walk together to the gym, where he'd drop you off with a gruff nod.
And during those walks, you talked. A lot.
Jay didn't interrupt or roll his eyes at your endless stream of words, but he didn't say much either. He'd let you ramble about random things—your favorite stories, songs, foods, or some obscure fact you'd read online.
One day, while rifling through your bag in frustration, you whined, "Crap, I always forget to bring an extra shirt!"
Jay didn't respond, just kept walking. You assumed he wasn't even listening.
But the next day, when you showed up for your routine walk to the gym, he handed you a neatly folded shirt.
"Here," he said, his tone flat, as though it wasn't a big deal.
You blinked, staring at it. "Wait, is this for me?"
"No, it's for the bench," he replied dryly. Then, seeing your expression, added, "You said you forget yours. Just take it."
Your heart skipped as you took the shirt, muttering a soft "thank you."
On another day, after practice, you grinned at him. "I really want a spicy ramen—like, with crab sticks and shrimp! Let's go get some!"
He raised an eyebrow. "That's a one-way ticket to high blood pressure," he deadpanned.
You pouted, whining dramatically. "Come on, Jay!"
Yet not long after, you found yourselves seated at a small ramen shop. You happily slurped your noodles, your feet swinging slightly under the table. Jay glanced down at your feet before looking up at you, finding you smiling as you focused on your bowl.
"What?" you asked, catching his gaze.
"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his own noodles.
Spending time with Jay made you lose your guard in the best way.
You weren't as self-conscious anymore, and little things just felt... natural. Like the time you were walking together, mid-laugh, and he suddenly pulled your arm to stop you.
"Look both ways," he mumbled, his hand lingering on your arm as you gripped it instinctively.
You giggled, wrapping your hand around his. "Okay, Dad."
He didn't respond, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.
Another habit of his? Waiting for you after practice, leaning against his motorcycle with his usual nonchalant expression. He'd nod for you to hop on, offering you his spare helmet.
It felt normal now—holding onto him as he drove, the wind whipping around you as the city lights blurred by.
Sometimes, Jay and you didn't even talk. Like when you'd share a cup of ice cream on a bench after practice, the two of you just staring at nothing. He'd sit beside you, watching as you bit down on your spoon absentmindedly.
"You look dumb," he'd say eventually, breaking the silence.
You'd laugh and stick your tongue out at him. "Thanks, Jay. Love the confidence boost."
Jay's attention to small things surprised you most when it came to your ketchup obsession.
It started when you were both sitting at your usual fast-food joint—a chain with a bright red logo and the smell of fries and fried chicken wafting through the air.
You'd always order the same thing: chicken nuggets and fries. But what made you stand out (to Jay, at least) was how you hoarded ketchup packets.
You never even used them at the restaurant. Instead, you'd stuff them into your bag, mumbling something about "saving them for later." Jay didn't ask at first, but the mystery was solved when he saw you in their practice one day, pulling out one of those packets.
You ripped it open quietly, then tipped the packet to your mouth and slurped the ketchup straight out of it.
A week later, during a break, Jay casually handed you a small stack of ketchup packets.
"Where did you get these?" you squealed, your eyes sparkling as you grabbed them from his hand.
"My bandmates ordered fries," he said with a shrug. "They don't like ketchup, so I took them."
You stared at him, your heart doing an annoying little flip. "Jay, you get me," you said dramatically, clutching the packets to your chest like they were a bouquet of roses.
"Don't make this weird," he muttered, already turning away.
You ripped one open immediately, slurping the sweet and tangy ketchup with a grin. "Thanks, Jay!"
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched again—his almost-smile.
Then there was the time in the cafeteria when he handed you a tissue.
You stared at him, confused. "What's this for?"
"Your lip gloss," he said simply, his tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.
You blinked, dumbfounded, as heat rose to your cheeks. How did he even notice that you always wiped off your lip gloss before eating?
You muttered a shy "thanks," taking the tissue as your heart thumped in your chest.
And then there were even smaller things.
Like how he bent down to tie your shoelaces without a word when they came undone during your walk.
Or how he fixed your hair once, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a quick, almost annoyed motion.
Or how he straightened your uniform when it got wrinkled after a particularly rough practice, muttering something about how you looked like "a mess."
They weren't grand gestures. Jay wasn't the type for big declarations or sweeping acts of romance. But it was always the small things that left you breathless—the way he noticed you, the way he cared without saying much.
And maybe, just maybe, the cold, untouchable guitarist didn't hate you as much as he let on.
"That's Park Jongseong's girlfriend!"
"Park Jongseong's girl is so pretty!"
"I didn't know Park Jongseong's girlfriend is so good at dancing!"
But honestly? You weren't sure how to feel about it anymore.
People didn't want to know you. They wanted to know him. Even when someone started a conversation with you, it always led back to Jay.
"How did you two meet?"
"What does he do when he's bored?"
"Does he even smile around you?"
You started noticing how Jay wasn't immune, either. People would corner him in the halls, asking invasive questions about your "relationship," and he'd glare at them in that trademark way of his until they got the hint and left. He never complained, never said anything about it to you, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched tighter these days.
You weren't cool. You weren't special.
You were just someone who had made a stupid, selfish decision to drag his name into your mess. And now? You weren't sure if you could keep it up any longer.
It was a quiet afternoon in the music room. Jay sat across from you, strumming his guitar in the golden light of sunset. Normally, this was when you'd ramble on about whatever random topic popped into your head, but today, the words felt too heavy to come out.
Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them as you stared at the floor.
"I'm sorry if I always bother you," you said suddenly, your voice barely audible.
Jay's fingers stilled on the strings, his head tilting slightly as he glanced at you.
"I... I really don't have any friends," you admitted, resting your chin on your knees. "I think I'm too crazy for the good girls in my class, too dumb for the nerds, and way too soft for the mean girls."
He didn't say anything, but you felt his eyes on you.
"But, you know," you continued, your voice shaky, "you're the first person who's ever... tolerated me. And I really appreciate that."
You laughed weakly, even though it wasn't funny. "Thank you, Park Jongseong, for listening to me go on and on about dystopian movies. For putting up with me when I get loud and excited. For not judging my weird ketchup obsession."
Jay leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, as you let out a long sigh.
"I thought dragging your name into the cheer squad thing would make me feel like I belonged somewhere," you said, your voice breaking. "But it hasn't. If anything, it's just made me feel worse. Like I'm not enough for them. Like I'll never be enough."
Your chest tightened as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "And... I feel like I've dumped all these responsibilities on you because of one stupid little lie I told. It's not fair to you."
Jay stayed silent, but you could feel his presence, heavy and quiet.
You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I think... I think it's time we break up."
Jay's hands froze on the guitar, his entire body going still. His gaze sharpened.
"Break up?" he repeated, his tone even but taut, like he was holding something back.
You nodded, your throat closing up. "Yeah. I've caused you enough trouble already. I think... I think it's better if we just end it. It'll be easier for you."
Jay's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of the guitar as he stared at you. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with something you couldn't place.
Your chest felt like it was caving in. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to say what you really wanted to say. So instead, you nodded.
"Yes," you whispered, barely audible.
The silence that followed was unbearable. You expected him to agree, to maybe sigh in relief or tell you that you were right. But instead, he just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.
Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice low. "Alright."
Your heart sank at the word, even though it was what you'd asked for. You forced yourself to stand, forcing a shaky "thank you" past your lips as you made your way toward the door.
But just as you reached it, his voice stopped you in your tracks.
"But you should know," he said, "that if you think you're not enough, you're wrong."
You froze, your breath hitching. Slowly, you turned to face him.
He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze was fixed on his guitar, his fingers idly plucking at the strings, but there was a softness in his voice that you weren't used to.
"You don't have to try so hard to fit into their world," he said quietly. "You already stand out. You don't see it, but you do."
Your throat tightened as tears pricked at your eyes. "Jay..."
He looked up at you then, his dark eyes piercing but calm. "If you want to end it, I'll let you go," he said, his voice steady. "But don't do it because you think you're causing me trouble. That's just you overthinking, as usual."
The ache in your chest grew unbearable, and for a moment, you thought about staying.
But the weight of your emotions felt too heavy, and you bolted, muttering a weak "thanks" as you ran out of the room, tears already spilling down your cheeks.
You didn't look back, but as you closed the door behind you, you swore you heard the faint sound of his guitar strings—soft, steady, and full of something you didn't quite understand.
By the time you reached the bathroom, you were a mess.
You locked yourself in a stall and let it all out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried—and failed—to convince yourself this was what you wanted.
"It's not even real," you muttered, your voice cracking. "We're not a thing. We were never a thing. Why am I crying like an idiot?"
But no amount of reasoning stopped the ugly sobs from wracking your chest. You clutched some toilet paper, blowing your nose dramatically and telling yourself to get it together.
When you showed up to practice later, your eyes were swollen and red, your nose a little too pink to hide what had happened.
"Y/N, are you okay?" Karina asked, looking concerned.
You forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine! Totally fine! Oh, by the way..." You paused, sniffling slightly. "Jay and I broke up."
The words felt like ripping off a Band-Aid, but you didn't have time to process them before the room erupted.
"What?!" Giselle gasped, clutching her water bottle.
"No way!" Yunjin exclaimed, already pulling out her phone.
Within hours, the news spread across the school faster than you thought possible. Everywhere you went, you could hear whispers and murmurs about the "breakup."
And Park Jongseong?
He was still Park Jongseong.
You spotted him in the hallway, his face set in stone, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp as ever.
He walked like he was on his way to commit murder, every step filled with tension. People gave him a wide berth, whispering things like, "He's even scarier than usual," and, "God, she must've really broken his heart."
But when your eyes met his for a split second, he looked away, his expression you can't read.
Your chest ached painfully every time you passed him. And when you were finally alone at night, you curled up in bed and cried yourself to sleep, the pain in your chest refusing to fade.
By the time your classmates dragged you to karaoke, you were on emotional autopilot. You didn't want to be there, but they'd insisted.
"It'll help you get over him!" Sunoo had said, practically shoving you into the room.
It wasn't helping. At all.
Sunoo grabbed the mic, singing passionately as the lyrics flashed across the screen. "That's why I don't understand... why I'm feeling so bad now, when I know it was my idea."
You froze, staring at the lyrics like they'd personally attacked you. Your lips twitched, but you refused to let the tears fall.
Ni-ki leaned forward, grabbing the mic dramatically. "I could've just denied the truth and lied... why am I the only one, standing, stranded on the same ground?!"
You let out a choked laugh, trying to brush off your growing emotions, but then Sunoo turned to you with wide, knowing eyes. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!"
"Shut up," you muttered, pulling your cardigan over your face to hide the tears forming in your eyes.
The room erupted as Ni-ki wrestled the mic away from Sunoo. "My love, it's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue." Ni-ki sang into the microphone.
You couldn't help it—the tears started spilling as you wiped them furiously with your sleeve, hoping no one would notice.
"It's hard leaving you that way... when I never wanted to!"
Your classmates were belting out the lyrics, screaming into the mic with way too much passion. And somehow, the chaos made it worse.
"Self-denial is a game!" Ni-ki shouted, practically falling to his knees. "It's strange, I never would've wanted it until there was you!"
You sniffled, wiping your cheeks again, but the tears wouldn't stop.
"Y/N, are you crying?!" Sunoo gasped dramatically, leaning closer, his voice high-pitched enough to rival a whistle.
"No!" you wailed, burying your face deeper into your cardigan. "It's just—the lyrics are so stupid!"
Jungwon, ever the responsible one, grabbed the remote and immediately switched the song. "Okay, we need a vibe shift. No more heartbreak songs."
The opening beat of Apple Bottom Jeans blasted through the room, and everyone burst into cheers and laughter.
You couldn't help but laugh, sniffing back the last of your tears as Ni-ki grabbed the mic and jumped onto the couch.
You felt a little lighter. Sure, your heart was still aching, but at least now, you now had friends who made it a little easier to breathe.
The next day, you were required to attend the university baseball game. Every student was, but as part of the cheerleading pep squad, you had absolutely no excuse to skip.
The stadium was packed with thousands of students from your university and the rival school, the energy buzzing in the air. You tugged at the hem of your uniform skirt, your face burning with embarrassment. "Is it really this short?!" you whined, glaring at Giselle.
She shushed you with a wave of her pom-poms. "Relax. It's normal!"
"You don't have to be awkward about it," Karina added, flipping her hair. "Your legs look great!"
Your coach, however, was far less delicate. "We're making it look longer because your legs are short," she said bluntly, not even looking up from her clipboard.
You gasped, utterly dumbfounded. "I—should I be offended, or...?"
The coach just shrugged, moving on with her notes.
Before the game officially began, your squad performed a short routine to hype up the crowd. The music blared through the speakers as you stepped forward, executing a clean front handspring. The crowd roared with approval, but your face burned as your skirt rode up mid-flip.
When the routine ended, you cringed, tugging your skirt back down as you returned to your seat at the front. You waved your pom-poms enthusiastically, shouting the university yell every time your team scored, even if you were still mortified from earlier.
When the game finally ended and the crowd began to thin out, you found yourself standing near the bleachers, clutching your pom-poms and phone. The cheer squad was preparing to take pictures, but you hung back for a moment, trying to catch your breath.
That's when someone approached you.
"Hi," a voice said, warm and slightly out of breath.
You turned to see a guy standing in front of you, wearing his baseball uniform. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the game, and his smile was boyish and shy.
"I'm Heeseung," he introduced himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to say your routine was really cool. And, uh... I was wondering if I could get your number?"
You blinked, your brain stalling. Wait, what?
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the field.
"Y/N! Hurry up!" Sunoo waved his arms dramatically, yelling over the crowd. "We're taking pictures!"
Your face turned even redder as you looked between Heeseung and Sunoo. Panicking, you muttered a quick, "Sorry, I've gotta go!" before rushing off toward your squad, clutching your pom-poms.
By the time you reached your squad, you were out of breath and flustered, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.
You grabbed your bag, rummaging through it in search of a shirt to change into. The crowd had mostly cleared out, and the stadium lights were dimming, but you were too busy muttering to yourself to notice.
Of course, you didn't have a spare shirt. Why would you?
You sighed heavily, dropping your pom-poms into the bag and staring at the empty space inside. Without thinking, you mumbled, "I miss Jay."
The words hung in the air, surprising even you. You froze for a second, realizing what you'd just said out loud.
It had been months since you'd ended things—or whatever it was you'd had—with Jay. And somehow, instead of feeling lighter, you felt worse.
The more you saw him in passing, the more you missed him. The more you craved him. The ache in your chest refused to fade, no matter how much time passed.
Sometimes, you still cried yourself to sleep, clutching your pillow as memories of him flooded your mind.
You hated how much you missed him.
And then there were moments when your body moved on its own, as if drawn to him.
You'd find yourself standing outside the music room, staring at the door like you were waiting for something—or someone—to pull you inside.
But you never went in. You just stood there, your heart heavy, before walking away again.
Or you'd sit at your favorite bench, the one where you used to share ice cream with him after practice. You'd sit there alone, biting the spoon absentmindedly and staring at nothing, replaying old conversations in your head.
It was during one of those quiet moments, as you sat with a half-melted scoop of vanilla in your hand, that the truth finally hit you.
You liked Jay.
No, you more than liked him. You missed him so much it hurt. And the worst part? You had no idea if he missed you, too.
You bit down harder on your spoon, frustration bubbling in your chest.
Why had you been so stupid? Why had you pushed him away when, deep down, he'd been the only one who ever made you feel seen?
Maybe you were too late. Maybe you'd ruined whatever connection you had with him.
But one thought kept circling in your mind, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.
What if you weren't too late?
"Do you party?" Sunoo asked casually, flopping onto your bed like it was his own.
You raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your skepticism. "Not really. I mean, I've been to a few, but it's not my thing. Why?"
"Let's go to a party this weekend! You know Sunghoon, right? The baseball player? He's hosting!"
You laughed, waving him off. "I'll think about it, but probably not."
Sunoo narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but you brushed him off, fully intending to stay home.
But when the weekend came, your plans to stay curled up in bed went out the window.
Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki just barged into your house.
"Why aren't you dressed?!" Sunoo exclaimed, throwing open your closet as Jungwon inspected your makeup drawer.
"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, clutching a pillow like it was a weapon.
"You are going to this party," Ni-ki said, arms crossed like he was your older brother instead of one year younger. "Get ready. Now."
With no way out, you reluctantly threw on a simple crop top and shorts, tying your hair into a ponytail and doing clean, light makeup.
When you arrived at the party, the atmosphere immediately overwhelmed you. The music was loud enough to shake the walls, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something smoky lingering in the air.
You stuck close to Sunoo as he handed you a red cup with some drink you didn't recognize.
"Just take a sip!" he shouted over the music.
"Excuse me for a second," you said, escaping to the balcony.
The moment you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, the fresh air calming your nerves. The cool night breeze felt like a blessing after the suffocating heat inside.
But then, you stiffened.
Sitting in one of the chairs was someone you hadn't expected to see—someone you hadn't seen up close in months.
Jay.
He sat with one foot tapping rhythmically against the ground, a vape in his hand. The dim light from the balcony highlighted his sharp jawline, his pointed nose, and the effortless way his hair slicked back. He wore a simple white shirt under a blue Nike jacket, but somehow, he looked stunning.
Your chest tightened painfully as his head turned, his dark eyes meeting yours.
"Oh," you said awkwardly, frozen in place.
He stared at you for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag from his vape.
Without knowing why, you found yourself walking over to him and sitting quietly beside him, your gaze fixed on the stars above.
"I didn't know you actually smoked," you said softly, breaking the silence.
He hummed, his head tilting slightly as he exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction, making a point to avoid letting any of it near you.
"I don't. Not usually. I don't smoke at school."
He shifted in his seat, sliding the vape into his pocket and straightening his posture.
"Why'd you stop just now?" you asked, glancing at him.
He didn't hesitate. "Your nose is sensitive to strong smells."
Your breath caught, his simple answer hitting you harder than you expected. That was Jay—always quiet, always watching, always knowing without making a big deal of it.
The ache in your chest grew unbearable.
"I'm sorry," the words came out from your mouth.
Jay's gaze snapped to yours, his expression neutral.
"For what?" he asked evenly.
"For just leaving," you said, your voice shaky. "For everything you've done for me, and then me just... walking away. I didn't know what I was feeling back then. I was hurt and scared because... you're you, and I'm just me. I'm not good enough for you—"
Jay didn't respond immediately. His gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "And what are you feeling now?"
You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.
"I... I miss you, Jay," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss everything about you. The small things, the way you cared, even if you acted like you didn't. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for being stupid."
Jay looked at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.
"You're really stupid, aren't you?" he said, his voice calm but laced with a faint humor that made your heart ache.
You managed a weak laugh, wiping at the corner of your eye. "Yeah, I am."
Jay exhaled slowly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.
"I thought you'd like me and never break it off because that's what happens in those books you always talk about, right?" he said, his voice softening. "But somehow, I fell harder than I ever expected."
Your breath hitched as he let out a quiet laugh—so rare, so warm, it made your chest ache. He finally looked at you, his eyes glinting with something vulnerable.
"I've always waited for you," he admitted, his voice low. "Waited for you to stop standing outside the music room and just walk in. But you never did."
Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face.
"I saw you," he continued. "Every time you sat on that bench, on our place... I saw you at a distance, sitting there, staring at nothing. And I waited. I always waited for your eyes to look at me the way I was looking at you."
Tears began to swell in your eyes as you took in his words.
Jay leaned closer, his movements gentle.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For being such a coward. For not walking up to you when I wanted to. I told myself I'd wait, but waiting just hurt more because all I could do was think about you. About us."
He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his hand warm and grounding. "I'm hurting. I've been hurting since you left. Do you feel the same way?"
The tears spilled over, warm and slow, streaking down your cheeks. You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch as you nodded. "I do, Jay. I've been hurting, too."
He watched you closely, his eyes softening as you smiled at him through your tears.
"You're crying," he murmured, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb.
"Yeah, well, that's your fault," you whispered, laughing through the tears.
Jay shook his head, his lips tugging into the faintest smile. "You're impossible," he muttered, his voice affectionate.
"And you're annoying," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.
But neither of you moved away.
The balcony felt smaller, quieter, as Jay's hand lingered on your cheek. His gaze flickered to your lips for a brief second, and your heart jumped, but he didn't move, waiting instead for you to close the gap.
So you did.
You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. His lips were warm and hesitant at first, but then he shifted, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you back.
His hand slid into your hair, his fingers brushing lightly against your scalp as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, your lips moving in perfect sync.
When you pulled back just slightly to catch your breath, his forehead rested against yours, and his lips hovered mere inches away.
His voice was low, and soft as he whispered against your lips, "Don't ever think of yourself like that. You're more than enough."
His words struck you deep, and your eyes fluttered open to meet his. "But... you're you, and I'm just me," you murmured, your voice barely audible.
Jay didn't let you finish. His lips captured yours again, silencing your insecurities. When he pulled back, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it made your breath hitch.
"I like you for being you," he said simply.
You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with emotion. "But you're like a big star," you said, holding up your fingers to make the shape of a small star, "and I'm just... a little star."
Jay's lips curved into the softest smile before he leaned forward again, kissing you gently.
His voice was tender when he murmured against your lips, "A little star that shines brightest in my eyes."
Your cheeks burned, and you couldn't help but let out a flustered laugh, lightly hitting his chest. "How come you always know how to get my heart?!"
Jay chuckled, kissing your forehead as he hugs you.
Jay just wanted to play guitar. That was all. He didn't ask for the reputation, the attention, or the corny nickname the school had slapped on him—the "cold, untouchable hot guitarist." God, how he hated that.
Every day felt the same: girls cornering him in the halls, asking for his number or accidentally brushing their hands against his arms or guitar case. His eyes would glare like knives as he gritted out, "Don't touch me."
He hated it—the fake admiration, the empty attention. Everyone seemed to care about him for all the wrong reasons. And when they annoyed him too much?
"Fuck off," he'd mutter, his tone so cold it practically froze people in their tracks.
But you? You were different.
Jay remembered the school festival three years ago. He'd been sitting in Jake's booth, tuning his guitar lazily while Jake served spicy noodles to an occasional brave (or dumb) soul willing to risk their stomach for the thrill.
It was supposed to be a chill afternoon, but then you showed up.
You were the only person who kept coming back to Jake's booth. Every hour.
"I swear, you're going to burn a hole in your stomach," Jake had told you, half-laughing as he handed you yet another bowl of his stupidly spicy noodles.
"Totally worth it," you'd chirped, your voice high-pitched and cheerful. "Do you have a permanent shop? I'd eat there every day!"
Jay had glanced up from his guitar, staring at you through the slits of the tent. You were completely oblivious to his presence, happily slurping noodles as Jake made small talk with you.
Later, Jake stormed into the tent, tossing his apron onto the chair. "We're sold out," he'd announced. "And it's her fault."
Jay had raised an eyebrow. "Her?"
Jake pointed outside. "The spicy noodle girl. She's been coming back all day. We sold out because of her."
Jay hadn't said anything, but his lips had twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming before he went back to tuning his guitar.
Jay hated everyone. He hated how they tugged at him, how they fawned over him for no reason. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to hate you.
He remembered the little things—moments that no one else seemed to notice.
Like the time you walked down the hallway with that cute little bag, the kind of bag that didn't really suit a high schooler but looked perfect on you.
It had a figurine hanging from it, neatly wrapped in a plastic pouch, and you carried it like it was your most prized possession.
Then, just days later, he'd found you outside the lost and found office, whining and crying. You'd lost the figurine, and you'd spent an entire lunch period pacing back and forth in front of the office, waiting for someone to turn it in.
Or the time he saw you clapping and cheering during a cheerleading pep squad performance, smiling so brightly that it felt contagious. You weren't even part of the squad back then, just a spectator, but you looked so genuinely happy that even he couldn't look away.
Then there was your PathFit (PE) class. Jay hadn't meant to stop by, but he'd found himself standing near the open door, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, as his eyes drifted toward you. You were on the floor, legs stretched into a perfect split, your forehead pressed to the ground as you stretched.
Jay once again noticed you searching frantically for a notebook you'd dropped in the hallway. You were crouched on the floor, mumbling to yourself, "This is why I can't have nice things."
He'd spotted the notebook a few feet away, picked it up, and placed it on the bench beside him.
When you found it moments later, you gasped, "Oh my God, it's a miracle!"
You always said you were just a simple girl. That no one really noticed you or cared about someone like you.
But in Jay's eyes, you were the opposite of invisible.
And every time he thought about you, he realized the same thing.
You stood out more than anyone else ever could.
When you'd spilled water all over his face.
His first reaction wasn't anger or annoyance, but something that surprised even him—he noticed how beautiful you looked up close.
Your wide eyes stared at him in shock, your pouty lips forming a small gasp as you muttered incoherent apologies. The faint, sweet floral scent of your perfume hit him, and for a second, he forgot the cold water dripping down his face.
Jay closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to take in more of that intoxicating scent, grounding himself. But before he could say anything, you bolted, muttering a quick "Sorry!" as you sprinted down the hallway.
He almost laughed when you tripped on your knees, scrambling awkwardly to escape. He stood there for a moment, wiping the water off his face with his sleeve.
The second interaction was you crashing out his guitar. He almost didn't notice his guitar on the floor because his eyes were locked on you.
Slowly, you raised two fingers in a peace sign, your expression a mix of guilt and panic.
"Uh... sorry?" you muttered before immediately backing out of the room.
Jay stood there, staring at the empty doorway, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even laugh, but the sound never left his throat. You were gone before he could even start a conversation.
And then there was the volleyball incident.
Jay didn't even see the ball coming. One second he was walking into the gym with his friends, and the next, a sharp pain hit him square on the nose.
"Shit," he hissed, dropping to the ground and clutching his face.
When he opened his eyes, you were hovering over him, your face inches from his. Your hair framed your face like a curtain, and there it was again—that scent. Sweet, light, floral.
He blinked up at you, stunned into silence. For a split second, he forgot about the pain, about the blood dripping from his nose. He was too focused on you—your soft features, your panicked expression, the way your lips trembled as you tried to form words.
Before he could open his mouth to tell you he was fine, the blood started pouring out of his nose.
"Crap!" you yelped, standing up quickly, flailing in panic. "I—I'll get help! I'm so sorry!"
And then you ran. Again.
Jay lay there, groaning as Jake handed him a tissue, snickering the entire time.
"Shut up," Jay muttered, even though Jake don't even say anything.
The breaking point came when Jay heard about the rumor that he was in a relationship.
He was furious. Annoyed didn't even begin to describe it. He hated how his name was constantly dragged into things, but this? A fake relationship? With some girl he didn't even know?
Storming through the hallways, he cornered one of the guys he'd overheard spreading the rumor. Grabbing the boy by the collar, he slammed him against the lockers.
"Tell me who started it," Jay demanded, his voice low and sharp. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes boring into the boy's.
"I-I don't know! I swear!" the boy stammered, flinching under Jay's glare. "They said it was some girl—Y/N! Y/N told the cheerleaders about it!"
At the mention of your name, Jay froze. His grip loosened slightly.
For a moment, he couldn't believe it. Of all people, it was you.
Releasing the boy with a shove, Jay stepped back, his emotions in a whirlwind. He should've been angrier—should've been ready to confront you and demand answers. But instead, he found himself... curious.
He should've been irritated. He should've hated you for dragging his name into a mess.
But somehow, he didn't.
Instead, he felt something he couldn't quite place. And he wasn't sure what annoyed him more—the rumor itself or the fact that the thought of being tied to you didn't bother him as much as it should have.
“Oh my God, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Did they just come back together?!”
Whispers followed the two of you as you walked hand in hand down the hallway.
Jay’s tall frame dressed in his usual all-black outfit. His guitar case was slung over his back, the strap resting effortlessly against his shoulder, and his hand held yours with an ease that made your heart race.
Every head turned to look at you. It wasn’t just the sight of Jay—cold, untouchable, and intimidating—but the sight of him with you, a cheerful and bubbly cheerleader.
You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice as you whispered, “Do you think a guitarist and a cheerleader is a weird combination?”
Jay glanced down at you, one eyebrow raised, his expression softening. “No,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady. “You and me? We’re a perfect combination.”
You let out a laugh, lightly bumping your shoulder against his arm. “God, you’re so cheesy.”
He smirked faintly but didn’t respond, the corners of his lips tugging upward in amusement.
Park Jongseong as a fake boyfriend was good.
But Park Jongseong as a real boyfriend? He was so much better.
You used to think of him as just the guy with the sharp jawline, the deadpan expression, and those sharp, eagle-like eyes that seemed to shoot lasers at anyone who got too close. He was the “fuck off” and “shut up” guy, the untouchable guitarist who kept everyone at arm’s length.
But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, you realized how wrong you’d been.
Jay wasn’t just sweet—he was unbelievably sweet.
You remembered all the little lies you’d told about him when you were trying to fit in with the cheer squad.
“He’s so sweet,” you’d said back then, fabricating stories about how he’d treat you like a princess.
But now? Those stories felt laughable because the reality of being with Jay was so much better.
When you were tired, he’d carry your bag without a word.
“Let me take it,” he’d say simply, slipping the strap off your shoulder.
He opened doors for you—every single time. If you walked through a doorway together, you didn’t even have to reach for the handle because Jay would already be holding it open, waiting patiently for you to step through.
Once, when you were getting into a car, you’d bumped your head against the roof. From that moment on, Jay always, always put a hand over your head to make sure it didn’t happen again.
“Careful,” he’d murmur, voice low but gentle.
You’d joked about him cooking for you once, completely unaware of how true it would become.
One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jay had brought you to his house. “You’re tired,” he’d said. “Let me make you something.”
You hadn’t expected much—maybe instant ramen or a sandwich at most. But then you’d watched, wide-eyed, as he moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, chopping vegetables, seasoning meat, and sautéing everything.
“Do you cook often?” you’d asked, leaning against the counter as the delicious aroma filled the room.
“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing at you briefly. “Jake says my food is too good for him, though.”
You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. Jay, the sharp-tongued guitarist, was making you a home-cooked meal. And it wasn’t just good—it was amazing.
Then there were the kisses.
You’d made up a story once, saying, “He kisses me goodbye every morning.” You thought it was the perfect romantic lie to impress the cheerleaders.
But now? Jay had made it a reality.
Every morning before he left for his own class, he’d touch your cheek lightly, his fingers brushing against your skin.
Then, he’d lean in, his lips meeting yours in the gentlest, softest kiss.
“See you later,” he’d say, before turning and walking away.
Each time, your heart would flutter uncontrollably, your fingers brushing against your lips as you watched him go.
"Aftercare after sex"
Except now, the real thing had turned out to be even better.
“Jay!” you whined, your hand gripping his hair as your hips moved uncontrollably against his mouth.
His tongue worked magic against your clit, circling and sucking gently while his long fingers moved inside you. His fingers curled just right, hitting your sweet spot effortlessly, and you gasped, your jaw going slack from the overwhelming sensation.
Your stomach tightened as the heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt yourself getting closer with each passing second.
Jay let out a low hum, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His free hand moved up to intertwine with yours, grounding you even as you felt like you might fall apart.
“Feel so good,” you sobbed, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. “Don’t want to stop.”
Jay pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening as he murmured, “Are you close, baby?”
You nodded frantically, your breathing erratic.
He leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him, your tongue meeting his as the kiss grew messy and desperate. His fingers didn’t slow for a second, pumping relentlessly inside you as you gasped against his mouth.
When you broke the kiss, your eyes were teary, your chest heaving. Jay looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his own breathing labored as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he moved back down between your legs. Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit again, sucking hard.
Your body jolted, your hands clutching at the sheets as you screamed his name. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum—”
Jay hummed in approval, his tongue working in perfect sync with his fingers, coaxing you to the edge. His free hand squeezed yours gently, the small gesture making your heart flutter even as your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face.
“I love you,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I love you, I love you—”
Your back arched as the tension inside you snapped, and your vision blurred with stars. You cried out, your body shaking as you came, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.
Jay stayed with you through it all, his tongue and fingers slowing to help you ride out the waves. When you finally slumped back against the bed, exhausted and trembling, he moved up beside you, brushing the hair from your face.
He kissed you softly, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips as he fixed your shirt and wiped you down with gentle care.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, soothing. “You did so good.”
Jay was definitely good at aftercare.
“Is it true that Park Jongseong is… like, huge in bed?”
You flushed instantly, your thoughts flashing to the one time you’d seen him fully exposed, when he’d let you take him in your hand.
Yeah, he was definitely huge.
"Did he really let you touch his guitar?"
You stared down at the sleek Stratocaster electric guitar now resting gently in your lap. Jay handed you a white marker, his eyes soft as he watched your expression shift from confusion to awe.
Your fingers lightly brushed over the strings and the smooth, glossy surface of the guitar’s body. “What’s this for?” you asked, holding up the white marker he had placed in your hand.
“I need you to sign your name on my guitar,” he said casually.
Your eyes widened as you looked between the guitar and Jay, who was now sitting beside you. “W-wait,” you stammered, your voice rising slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it—”
“Baby,” he interrupted, “you’re not ruining it.” He leaned closer, gently pointing at a spot near the edge of the guitar’s body. “Right there. That’s where I want it. Sign it for me, hmm?”
You swallowed hard, this wasn’t just any guitar—it was his guitar. The one he cherished.
“Okay,” you whispered, nodding as you carefully uncapped the marker.
You hovered the pen above the guitar for a moment, practicing your signature in the air as your nerves fluttered.
Jay chuckled softly beside you, his voice warm. “You’re acting like you’re signing a million-dollar contract.”
“This is more serious than that,” you shot back, your lips curving into a nervous smile.
Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed the tip of the marker to the glossy surface, your hand moving carefully as you signed your name. The white ink glided smoothly across the black body, and when you pulled the marker away, you stared at the result with wide eyes.
“Perfect,” Jay murmured.
You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze lingered on the guitar. His usual sharp, stoic expression was replaced with something softer, his eyes shining as he traced your signature with his finger.
He looked up at you, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of warmth. Then, leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.
Your cheeks burned as you gripped the marker tightly, unsure of what to say.
Jay pulled back slightly, his smile still in place. “Now it’s perfect,” he said simply, taking the guitar from your lap and standing up.
You watched as he adjusted the strap and slung it over his shoulder. His fingers moved instinctively to the strings, testing a few chords, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering to your signature.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice casual, but you could hear the pride beneath it.
“It does,” you said softly, your chest feeling warm and full.
It was the school festival again, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. Still wearing your cheerleading uniform from your earlier routine, you tugged at your cousin’s arm, practically dragging her through the bustling crowd. The stadium was alive with energy—students cheering, music blasting from nearby booths, and the smell of snacks wafting through the air.
“Come on, we’re going to miss it!” you squealed, your ponytail bouncing as you hurried forward, your pom-poms tucked under your arm.
Your cousin groaned dramatically, trailing behind you. “You’ve been talking about this all day. Who are we even going to see?”
“My boyfriend!” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “My boyfriend's in a band!”
“Boyfriend?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”
You turned to her with a mock gasp, clutching your chest like she’d insulted you. “Excuse you. I’ve had one for months now.”
Your cousin raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, then. Let’s see this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”
The two of you found seats near the front, and you craned your neck, scanning the stage as the band members set up. The noise of the crowd grew louder, students and visitors alike cheering as the festival program officially began.
And then he appeared.
Jay stepped onto the stage, standing out against the bright festival decorations. The strap of his guitar rested comfortably on his shoulder, the instrument gleaming under the stage lights—and there it was, your signature on its glossy surface.
Your heart thudded wildly in your chest, a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you clapped your hands together in excitement.
“Okay, but which one is your boyfriend?” your cousin asked, squinting at the stage as if trying to piece it together.
You didn’t even hesitate. Pointing toward Jay, you said proudly, “The guitarist. His name is Park Jongseong. That’s my boyfriend.”
Your attention was locked on Jay as he adjusted his guitar strap and tested a few chords. His sharp, eagle-like eyes scanned the crowd, his usual stoic expression giving him an air of effortless cool. But then, something changed.
His gaze stopped on you.
Jay’s piercing eyes softened, his lips curving into the faintest smile, the kind of smile he rarely let anyone see. It was small, barely noticeable to most, but you knew it was for you.
Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to hide the giddy grin that threatened to take over your face. Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced as he looked at you.
After a brief moment, Jay’s gaze dropped to his guitar. He adjusted the tuning, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the music. He stole one last glance at you before focusing on his task, a quiet confidence radiating from him as he prepared to play.
Your cousin, still in shock, nudged you. “Okay, he’s hot. How did you—like, how did you—end up with him?”
You laughed, brushing her off as you continued to watch Jay. “It’s a long story,” you said, your voice dreamy.
As the band began their set, the crowd’s cheers grew louder, and Jay’s fingers danced effortlessly over the strings. The sound was mesmerizing, and your chest swelled with pride as you watched him command the stage.
And as you sat there, smiling like an idiot, you realized once again how lucky you were to call him yours.
SYNOPSIS: One second, you were telling a little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the whole school thought you were dating Park Jongseong—the cold, untouchable, and ridiculously hot guitarist. What started as a desperate move to boost your reputation took a wild turn when Jay decided to go along with it. Now, you’re caught up in nonstop gossip, awkward moments, and a fake relationship that feels a little too real—especially with Jay showing a surprisingly sweet side that no one, including you, saw coming.
contains: fake dating, lots of fluffs, comedy, slight angst, strangers to lovers, reader is in 11th grade while jay is in 12th, (but both of them are over the age of 18) reader is short, jay smokes vape in the middle of the story, jay hates everyone lol warning: profanities, mentions of sex, mild smut. WC: 14.7k
song used: same ground by kitchie nadal
A/N: thank you for the 95 followers!
You were a simple girl.
Simple, average, ordinary. Not the type to snag straight A's in every class, but not failing either. You were the kind of girl teachers barely noticed—just another name on the roll call, another face in the crowd.
You liked pink—just enough to keep it cute, but not the over-the-top glittery kind.
You didn't obsess over fandoms or have bags covered in pins and but you have figurines. Your style wasn't edgy or pastel chic or anything that made you stand out. You were... balanced. Plain. Normal.
Your high school life reflected that. Simple. Average. No exciting detours.
You weren't a sports star who got their name chanted in the bleachers. You weren't a science geek impressing everyone with your brainpower. You weren't a mean girl, a party kid, or a cheerleader.
Oh, but you wanted to be a cheerleader.
You wanted to wear that uniform, flip through the air, feel the rush of the crowd. You wanted the applause, the way everyone's eyes followed them when they walked the halls.
But no one cared about a normal girl trying out.
Reputation was everything in high school, and yours? Too simple. Too... forgettable.
You could cheer. You could dance. You could pull off a backflip, a split, the whole routine. You had the skills. What you didn't have was the image.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" one of the cheerleaders asked, her voice dismissive as you landed your final jump during tryouts. You stood there, panting, sweat dripping down your face after nailing the routine.
"A boyfriend?" you repeated, blinking, stunned. What did that have to do with anything?
"From football? Hockey? Maybe Math Olympiad?" she continued, her smirk curling like she already knew the answer.
You froze. Of course you didn't have a boyfriend. You were an NBSB—No Boyfriend Since Birth kind of girl. But how was that even relevant? You were here to cheer, not audition for a dating show.
"We'll let you know if you're accepted... or not," another cheerleader chimed in, her voice dripping with boredom. She wasn't even pretending to care about your performance.
You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breathing, gripping your bag so tight your knuckles turned white. The sting of their indifference burned in your chest as you turned and walked out of the gym, sweaty and defeated.
Reputation doesn't matter, they always said. What a joke. High school was all about reputation—who you dated, who you were seen with, who you weren't.
And being a simple, average, normal girl? That just wasn't good enough.
It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself face-to-face with them again—the cheerleader tryouts.
So, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out:
"My boyfriend is Park Jongseong."
The world seemed to stop for a second. All the cheerleaders froze, wide-eyed, jaws dropping like a scene from a poorly-scripted teen drama.
"Wait—Park Jongseong?!" one of them shrieked, her voice climbing several octaves. "The hot guitarist in the band?"
You nodded, keeping your expression sweet and innocent, careful not to let your fabricated lie crumble.
"Oh my god!" Another cheerleader nearly jumped out of her skin. "He's, like, the hottest guy in school! And so... mysterious."
"He's so cold, though," another chimed in, tilting her head suspiciously. "How did you even—"
You cut her off, spinning your web of lies before she could unravel it. "Oh, it just... happened," you said with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal.
"We met at this café off campus. He asked me about my drink order, and, well..." You let out a dreamy sigh, painting a picture so vivid you could almost convince yourself it was real.
"He's so sweet. He cares about me so much. Like, he cooks for me when I'm tired, aftercare after sex, kisses me goodbye every morning, and—" You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice to a whisper. "He even lets me touch his guitar."
The gasps that followed were almost deafening.
"No way!" one of them shrieked, clutching her chest in disbelief. "Park Jongseong doesn't let anyone touch his guitar!"
You nodded solemnly, as if sharing a sacred truth. "Well, he lets me."
For a moment, you thought you'd pulled it off. You were a star in their eyes, a girl who'd managed to capture the unattainable Park Jongseong's heart.
But deep down, you knew the truth.
Park Jongseong hate everyone, especially you. And honestly? You didn't blame him.
The first time you'd crossed paths, it had been a disaster.
You'd been drinking water at your locker when he appeared out of nowhere, walking right past you. Startled by his sudden presence, you'd choked, spraying water directly into his face.
His jaw had clenched, his eyes shutting as he took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to lose his temper.
"Sorry!" you'd squeaked, your face burning with humiliation.
And then, like the socially awkward creature you were, you'd bolted down the hallway, leaving him dripping and furious.
Then there was the incident in the music room.
You'd been poking around the instruments out of boredom, your fingers grazing the strings of a random guitar when—CRASH. Your foot caught on something, and the stand holding his prized guitar tipped over, sending it sprawling to the floor.
Right at that moment, the door swung open, and in walked Park Jongseong.
You froze like a deer in headlights, your heart dropping to your stomach as his gaze landed on his guitar, then on you. His face was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.
"Uh... sorry?" you muttered, holding up your hands in a weak peace sign. Before he could say anything, you darted out of the room. You ran away, again.
And who could forget the volleyball incident?
You'd been practicing serves in the gym when he and his friends walked in. Your focus wavered for a split second, and the ball sailed in the wrong direction—straight into his face.
You gasped as blood began dripping from his nose. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you stammered, panicking as he grabbed his face, clearly in pain.
Without thinking (or, honestly, with too much thinking), you did what you always did. You ran, again.
And now, standing here, spinning lies about a romance that didn't exist, you had to fight to keep your composure.
"Wow," one of the cheerleaders gushed. "I can't believe you and Jongseong are, like... a thing!"
"Yeah," you said with a forced laugh, clutching your bag tightly to hide how sweaty your palms were. "He's... amazing."
But in the back of your mind, all you could think about was how Park Jongseong would react if he ever found out about this.
And...The story spread faster than you could have ever imagined.
One second, you were fabricating a harmless little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the entire school seemed to think you and Park Jongseong were soulmates—or worse, a thing.
And not just any kind of "thing." No. The rumors had grown legs, arms, and a whole personality.
"Is it true that Park Jongseong is... like, huge in bed?" one girl whispered as you passed her in the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.
You choked on absolutely nothing, gripping your bag as if it might save you from spontaneously combusting.
Another girl caught up to you, practically skipping alongside you. "Oh my God, how was it? You know, with him? Is he all intense and broody like he looks, or does he have a soft side?"
You stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"He's... uh... great?" you stammered, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so unconvincing.
Her jaw dropped, and before you knew it, a crowd of girls—yes, the famous girls—was swarming you, each one louder and more persistent than the last.
"I can't believe you got him to date you!"
"Wait, wait, wait—did he really let you touch his guitar? Because I heard he doesn't even let his bandmates touch it."
"What's his favorite food? Does he let you steal his hoodies? Is he ticklish?"
"Is he actually the silent-in-public, wild-in-private type? Tell us everything!"
Your head was spinning. They were everywhere, and you couldn't escape. You tried smiling naturally, nodding here and there, but the panic bubbling inside you was threatening to explode.
"Oh my God, you're not even in the cheerleading pep squad yet? How dare they still not accept you!" one girl exclaimed dramatically. She flipped her hair with a loud scoff. "I mean, I saw your audition, and it was fucking amazing."
You blinked. She definitely had not seen your audition.
"Y-yeah, um... thanks," you muttered, clutching your bag tighter and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.
It was still early, but the hallway was packed. The questions kept coming, the voices growing louder, and you were just about ready to melt into the floor.
And then it happened.
You let out a tiny squeak as someone grabbed your arm, yanking you out of the circle of girls. You stumbled, blinking in shock, and turned to see who your savior—or captor—was.
Your heart nearly stopped.
It was him.
Park Jongseong!
Jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes darker than your worst nightmares, and hair falling messily across his forehead like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.
Except he didn't look like a model. No. He looked angry.
Like, furious.
Oh, you were so, so dead.
"S-see you later, girls!" you called out, your voice cracking as you tried to sound cheerful. You gripped his arm like your life depended on it, forcing a smile as he dragged you through the hallway.
The crowd erupted behind you.
"Oh my God, they're really together!"
"I knew it!"
"They're so cute! Look at how she holds onto him!"
Your face felt like it was on fire. You could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway locked on you as Jongseong stormed forward, his grip firm but not painful. You tried to match his pace, but his legs were longer, and you were practically jogging to keep up.
You tried to focus on breathing, but the more they talked, the more you wanted to just curl up and disappear.
Meanwhile, Jongseong hadn't said a single word. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Uh, Jongseong—"
Before you could finish, he yanked open the door to a small storage room, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you with a loud click.
"Hey—what are you—"
"Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and sharp.
You blinked, startled. The room was small, cramped, and dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Shelves stacked with cleaning supplies and dusty boxes surrounded you, and the air smelled faintly of bleach.
Jongseong leaned against the door, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a frustrated sigh.
"What the hell?" he said finally, his voice laced with irritation.
You swallowed hard, gripping your bag like a shield. "I... I can explain?"
"Yeah, you'd better," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your knees feel like jelly.
"Why is everyone in this school convinced we're dating? And why," his voice dropped lower, "did I just hear someone asking if I'm good in bed?"
You winced. "Okay, so... it might've gotten a little out of hand."
He let out a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow. "A little?"
You hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Look, I was just trying to impress the cheerleaders! They don't think I'm cool enough to make the squad, so I might've... um... made up a story."
His jaw tightened. "A story? About me?"
You gave him a weak, apologetic smile. "I didn't think it would blow up like this! I thought they'd just forget about it after tryouts!"
"Oh, yeah, because rumors about me always disappear quietly," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
You bit your lip, your embarrassment growing by the second. "I'm really sorry. I'll fix it. I promise."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "How exactly do you plan to fix this? Everyone already thinks we're a couple. You should've thought about that before you opened your mouth."
"I know, I know!" you said, your voice rising slightly. "But I didn't think people would actually believe me! I mean, look at you! You're, like... you, and I'm just... me."
He stared at you, one eyebrow twitching. "What does that even mean?"
"It means no one would ever think you would date someone like me!" you blurted out.
There was a brief silence, Jongseong blinked, his expression unreadable.
"Wow," he said finally, his tone flat. "That's... depressing."
You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I'm making this worse, aren't I?"
"Yeah," he said bluntly.
You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice small. "Can you... just not kill me, though?"
He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. For a moment, he looked like he was considering throwing you out the door, but instead, he leaned back against it, running a hand down his face.
"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You're going to go out there, tell everyone you lied, and make sure my name is out of their mouths by the end of the day."
Your eyes widened. "I can't do that! If I tell them the truth, I'll look like a total loser! They'll never let me on the squad!"
"Not my problem," he shot back.
"Please!" you pleaded, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Just... let me ride this out a little longer. I'll figure out a way to fix it without dragging your name through the mud, I promise!"
He stared at you for a long moment. He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Do whatever you want," he said finally.
Your eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Don't make me regret this," he added,
"I'll do anything!" you said quickly, your relief overwhelming your sense of pride.
His eyes flicked back to yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Anything?"
You hesitated. "Uh... within reason?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, pushing off the door and opening it.
"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, panicked.
"Class," he said simply, walking out and leaving you standing there, still clutching your bag like it might protect you from the fallout.
"Oh my God, they just came out of the storage room together!" someone squealed.
Your blood froze as a wave of gasps and murmurs rippled down the hallway.
"No way! They're so freaky!"
"They couldn't even wait until after school? A quickie in the storage room?!"
"That's so wild!"
You bolted out of the storage room, your face burning so hot it was probably visible from space. "It's not what you think!" you stammered, waving your hands frantically. "Nothing happened! I swear!"
But your protests only seemed to make things worse.
"Did you see her face? She's totally guilty!"
"God, no wonder he's so obsessed with her. She's probably insane in bed."
"Wait, so does this mean she's, like, not lying about them being a couple?"
The crowd erupted into a chorus of giggles, whispers, and scandalized gasps, and you felt your soul leave your body.
At the end of the day, you got the news: you were officially part of the cheerleading pep squad.
This wasn't exactly how you pictured it, but hey, you'd finally made it. You thought practice would be all about jumps, flips, and cheers, but instead, it was questions. Endless questions.
All about your "boyfriend."
By the time practice ended, you were convinced the squad cared more about Park Jongseong than they cared about cheerleading. It was exhausting. They made him your whole personality.
Now, you stood outside the music room, foot tapping nervously as you psyched yourself up. You needed to talk to him. Jongseong—Jay—walked out with his guitar slung over his back, his expression colder than a freezer. His eyes landed on you, sharp and annoyed.
"Why are you here?" he asked, as blunt as ever.
You forced an awkward smile. "Hi! Because... you're my boyfriend?"
Jay scoffed, walking past you like you didn't exist. Panicked, you scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping over your own feet.
"H-hey! Wait!" you called, gripping the edge of his jacket. "I'm Y/N! Please, for the second time, just hear me out!"
He stopped, turned, and stared at you with the kind of look that could burn holes in concrete. "What do you want now?"
You fumbled with your bag, your cheeks burning. "I just... I wanted to talk about—"
"Fuck off," he snapped, making you flinch and throw your hands up like you were bracing for impact.
"I'm sorry!" you squeaked, your voice small.
Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shifted his weight. For a second, his eyes softened—but not enough to let you relax.
"I already let you use my name. What else do you want from me?" he asked, voice low and sharp.
You bit your lip, tapping your foot nervously. You'd practiced this speech in your head a hundred times, but the words suddenly felt scrambled.
"I just... I got into the cheerleading squad, but they keep asking me questions about you, and—"
His glare deepened. "After you spilled water on me, crashed my guitar, and hit me in the face with a volleyball, what more do you want?"
You gasped, offended. "E-excuse me?! Those were accidents!" you said, emphasizing the word with dramatic hand gestures.
"I didn't spill water on you on purpose! And I didn't crash your guitar—it fell! And your nose? Total accident!"
He turned to leave, but you panicked again, grabbing his arm and walking beside him as fast as your shorter legs could go.
"Please, just help me for a little while longer!" you pleaded.
He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at you, looking like he wanted to throw himself into the nearest trash can. "You got what you wanted. Tell them we broke up or something."
You shook your head frantically. "No, no, no! I know I'm a loser for using your name, but I need to keep this up for a few more months!"
Jay's jaw tightened. "What now?"
"I just... need some information about you," you said, your voice small. "Like, your favorite color, or your hobbies, or—"
He cut you off with a groan. "Just make something up. You're good at that."
"But it sounds fake!" you whined, stomping a little like a frustrated child.
Jay stopped walking and turned to glare at you again. "And the story about the café and me being good in bed doesn't sound fake?"
Your cheeks turned crimson. "I-I didn't say anything about you being good in bed!" you squeaked, waving your hands defensively. "I just said you were good at, uh, aftercare! They're the ones who assumed the rest!"
Jay stared at you, his face unreadable, but the way his lips twitched told you he was this close to laughing.
"So, you want more information about me so you can answer their next stupid questions?" he asked.
You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Exactly!"
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Like if I'm huge?"
Your brain short-circuited. "N-no!" you squealed, stepping back as your cheeks burned even hotter. "It's not like that!"
Jay smirked, adjusting the strap of his guitar as he stood up straight again. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Good luck with your cheerleading squad, girlfriend."
And with that, he totally walked away, leaving you standing there, red-faced and humiliated. But you weren't about to give up.
No way. You'd come too far and sacrificed too much pride to back down now. If groveling got you this far, then maybe going lower would get you what you needed.
So, you became... everywhere.
After his chemistry class, there you were, waiting outside the door with a bright smile and an awkward wave. "Hi! How was class? Did you learn anything interesting?"
He barely looked at you as he walked past, muttering, "I don't know, did you?"
At his band practice, you somehow sweet-talked your way in. His bandmates, thinking you were his girlfriend, welcomed you with open arms.
"Jay never told us you were so supportive," one of them said, grinning.
"Y-yeah! That's me! Super supportive!" you laughed nervously, while Jay sat in the corner, tuning his guitar, looking like he was plotting your demise.
But you stayed anyway, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him play with stars in your eyes. He was good—like, really good—and for a second, you almost forgot how much he hated you.
After practice, you walked out with him, chatting non-stop about your cheerleading routine. "So then Karina said I should try a - "
Jay, walking ahead of you, sighed heavily. "Do you ever stop talking?"
You froze for half a second before jogging to catch up. "Not really!" you said cheerfully, ignoring the withering glare he shot you.
During break time, you plopped down beside him in the cafeteria, chatting away about your practice. You didn't even realize you were rambling until he looked at you, his expression blank.
"Do you ever run out of words?" he asked, deadpan.
You blinked. "Uh... no?"
He groaned, rubbing his temples.
It wasn't long before your cheer squad started noticing things, too.
During one break, Yunjin leaned over, lazily plucking at her nails. "Your relationship seems so... one-sided," she said casually, enough to make your stomach drop.
"Eh?" you squeaked, your chest tightening with nerves. "W-what do you mean?"
Yunjin shrugged. "We never see you guys together. And when we do, he looks like he's about murdering someone."
You forced a laugh, your hands sweaty. "W-well, he's just... had a lot of bad days lately!"
"Jay's always having bad days when he's with you?" she shot back, raising an eyebrow.
"And you two don't even kiss in public," Karina added, leaning her chin on her hand.
Your throat went dry. "Uh, well, he doesn't like PDA," you said quickly.
The two of them exchanged looks but eventually shrugged, letting it go. You let out a quiet breath of relief, only to freeze when Karina clapped her hands.
"Y/N, you said you can do back handsprings, right?"
You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Do you need me to—"
"Great!" Karina stood, surveying the gym with a critical eye. "We need you to cover the entire formation during lifting. Can you do five in a row?"
Your eyes widened. "F-five?"
"Yeah, starting from over there." Karina gestured to the far side of the gym.
You forced a smile and walked to the starting position, nerves rattling in your chest. Everyone's eyes were on you.
You took a deep breath and started your back handsprings, nailing five in a row. When you landed, slightly dizzy, you raised your arms triumphantly.
"Hmm... it doesn't cover the right side," Karina said, tapping her chin. "Y/N, try seven this time."
Your smile faltered. "S-seven?"
They nodded.
You did as they asked, pushing through the dizziness, only to hear them call for more.
By the fourth round, you were practically collapsing mid-air. Ten was far too much, and by the end, your knees hit the floor hard, sending pain shooting up your legs.
"Oh, perfect!" Karina said, clapping her hands. "That covered the whole area. Great job, Y/N! But you need to work on your posture."
You winced, clutching your bruised knee as you shuffled to sit beside the others. The pain was sharp, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced a smile, trying to keep it together.
"I'm kind of craving boba tea," Karina said suddenly, standing up. "Who wants some?"
"Oh, me too!" Giselle chimed in, followed by the rest of the squad eagerly raising their hands.
"Perfect!" Karina said, pulling out a notepad. "Let's make a list."
A moment later, she shoved the list into your hands. "Here. And here's the money. You can go get it for us."
You stared at the list, dumbfounded. "Wait... me?"
"Yeah! Thanks, Y/N!" she said brightly, already turning to talk to Giselle about something else.
You blinked, standing stiffly as pain radiated from your knees. You didn't even have the energy to argue. Instead, you hobbled to the restroom first, tears spilling over as you washed your knees.
Violet bruises were already forming, and the cold water stung as it ran over the tender skin.
This wasn't what you'd imagined when you dreamed of joining the cheer squad.
You thought it would be glamorous—flipping in the air, cheering under bright lights, and finally belonging to something cool.
Instead, here you were, limping to a nearby boba shop with bruised knees and teary eyes.
Still, you told yourself it was okay. You were part of them now. You weren't just a simple girl anymore—you were a cheerleader. Their friend. It was normal to run errands and do things for your friends, right?
So why did it feel so awful?
As you stood in line, you checked the money Karina had handed you earlier, only to realize it was short. Way short.
You panicked for a moment, but what could you do? You had no choice but to pay for the rest out of your own pocket, all while swallowing the lump in your throat.
By the time you were walking back to school, holding a bunch of boba cups in flimsy plastic bags, you were crying. Pathetically.
Tears streaked your face, and your lips wobbled as you sniffled, trying not to let the world see how pitiful you looked.
But it wasn't their fault, you told yourself. They weren't bullying you. You were just having a sensitive day. Your knees hurt from all that back handspring practice, and the money situation had just been bad luck.
That's all.
You furiously wiped at your cheeks, determined to look normal before you made it back to the gym. But then, a voice startled you out of your thoughts.
"What happened to you?"
You nearly dropped the boba.
"Jay!" you yelped, turning to see him standing there with his guitar case slung over his back, his sharp gaze flicking from your tear-streaked face to the plastic bags in your hands—and then to your bruised, purple knees.
"I—uh—hi!" you stammered, forcing an awkward smile.
He didn't return it. "You didn't visit the music room today."
"Oh!" you exclaimed, caught off guard. "I was busy with practice. I completely forgot! I'm sorry!"
He didn't respond, just reached over and took the plastic boba bags from your hands.
You blinked at him, muttering a quiet "thank you" as he carried them down the hallway beside you.
"What happened to you?" he asked again, his tone firmer this time.
You scratched the back of your head, feigning cluelessness. "Uh, what do you mean?"
He gave you a look, and his voice dropped. "Why were you crying? And why do you have bruises all over your knees?"
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He was staring at you like he could see right through every lie you'd prepared.
"Oh, that?" You waved a hand as if it were nothing. "They made me practice back handsprings today. I just, uh, had a bad landing. But I'm totally fine! See?" You gave him a shaky thumbs-up, forcing another smile.
Jay didn't look convinced. His gaze flickered back to your knees, then to your face.
"Why? Do you care about me?" you teased, lightly bumping his shoulder with yours.
He rolled his eyes, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Without a word, he gestured toward the gym door.
"You first."
You laughed nervously, pushing the door open and walking inside.
"Oh, Y/N," Karina called out from across the gym. "Coach said we're not allowed to have boba anymore since she's strict about our diet. Did you already buy it?"
Your face fell. "Yes..."
"Oh crap!" Giselle smacked her forehead. "I texted you, but I guess it didn't go through!"
"But the boba? The money?" one of the girls asked, holding out her hand expectantly.
You hesitated, your voice caught in your throat. "I already bought it," you said quietly, glancing nervously at Jay.
Before you could say anything else, he walked past you, heading toward the bleachers. Without a word, he dropped the bags of boba onto the bench—hard. The cups jostled, some of the liquid spilling over the edges.
"J-Jongseong?!" Karina stammered, her confident tone faltering as she gulped nervously.
Jay stood there, his sharp glare slicing through the room. "Are you serious right now?" he said, his voice calm but dangerous.
Karina shifted uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in her throat. "W-we didn't mean for her to actually buy them—"
"Yeah?" he cut her off. "Because it looks like you had her running errands like your personal delivery service."
"Jay, it's not like that!" you blurted, defending them instinctively, though your voice wavered.
The room went silent. None of the girls dared to speak as Jay's gaze swept over them, so sharp.
"Is your practice over or something?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because none of you look like you're doing any cheers anymore."
Giselle quickly nodded, her voice high and nervous. "W-we're on a break!"
Jay's eyes narrowed slightly, making Giselle shrink under his gaze.
Finally, he turned to you, and his expression softened just enough to make your chest feel weird—like relief, or maybe something you couldn't quite place.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.
"H-huh?" you stammered, blinking up at him.
"Let's go," he repeated, already turning away.
Before you could argue, he noticed the way you hesitated, the way you winced with every step. His eyes flicked down to your knees, bruised and swollen, and without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.
"W-what are you doing?!" you gasped, your face burning red as you scrambled to hold onto him.
The squad collectively let out a series of audible gasps behind you.
"Oh my God, she's not like, totally lying," Karina whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Jay didn't acknowledge them. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried you out of the gym.
"Jay, I can walk!" you protested weakly, even though your knees were very much not in walking condition.
"Yeah, you're doing a great job of that," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he adjusted his grip on you.
You clung to him in stunned silence, trying to ignore the burning stares from the squad still watching as the door swung shut behind you.
Your heart raced, and whether it was from embarrassment or something else entirely, you didn't want to think about it.
"You're going to stop running around like this," Jay said firmly as he walked. "If they want boba, they can get it themselves."
"But I'm part of the team now," you mumbled, your voice small.
"You're not their errand girl," he shot back, his eyes flicking down to you.
You shut your mouth, letting him carry you to the clinic as the nurse tended to your bruised knees.
He leaned casually against the wall, watching the whole process like he was supervising. Every time you dared to glance his way, he raised an eyebrow, silently daring you to say something stupid. You wisely kept quiet.
The next day at practice, things hadn't gotten much better.
The girls were still bombarding you with questions—except now, Jay had inadvertently raised your popularity to new heights.
"He's sweet but terrifying," one of them whispered, watching you stretch. "Maybe you should get him to smile for once. He's always glaring."
"Yeah, but it's kind of hot," another one added, fanning herself dramatically. "It's like he hates everyone except her."
You snorted at that, almost choking on your own air. If only they knew the truth. But you couldn't even laugh properly because someone tapped your shoulder, pointing toward the gym doors.
"Y/N, look!"
You turned and nearly choked on your own spit. There he was—Jay—walking toward you.
The girls squealed, whispering loudly as they quickly backed away to give you "privacy."
Your stomach flipped as he approached, his dark eyes scanning the gym before locking on you. "What are you doing here?" you whispered, gripping the edge of the bleachers.
He ignored your question, dropping his bag and kneeling in front of you.
"How's your knee?" he asked, his tone softer this time as his eyes flicked to your legs.
"I'm fine! What are you doing here?" you repeated, feeling heat crawl up your neck as the gym filled with the sound of squeals and whispers.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out something.
"I bought you knee pads," he said simply, holding them up.
Your jaw dropped. "What—why?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your leg, his hands warm as he began securing the knee pad in place.
"He's so sweet!" one of the girls whispered loudly.
You tried to ignore the growing crowd of gossipers, your face burning as you stared down at him. "You really didn't have to—"
"Stop moving," he interrupted, his focus entirely on your knee as he adjusted the strap.
You sighed, crossing your arms. "Jay, seriously, what are you doing here?"
"I'll watch your routine," he said casually, moving to your other knee.
"What? No!" you exclaimed, flailing slightly. "What do you mean, you'll watch?"
He glanced up at you, a small, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "You watch me practice at the music room. It's only fair I watch yours."
"That's different!" you sputtered, your face heating further.
"How is it different?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because—because I'm not good at this yet!" you said, flustered. "What's your deal?"
"What do you mean?" he said, his voice light with amusement. "I just want to support my girlfriend."
You froze. Your brain short-circuited. Did he just—
"W-what did you just say?" you stammered, your voice cracking.
"Girlfriend," he repeated smoothly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Isn't that what you keep telling everyone I am?"
You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The giggles and gasps around you didn't help, either.
"You can't just—" you started, but he cut you off.
"Relax," he said, smirking as he turned to walk away. "Good luck with practice, babe. I'll be watching."
You watched him head toward the bleachers, still reeling from the fact that Park Jongseong, the untouchable cold Jay, just called you his girlfriend in front of everyone.
If you hadn't been blushing before, you were definitely on fire now.
The routine begins with a burst of synchronized cheers, the squad moving in perfect unison. You jump, spin, and dance, throwing in a split and a clean back handspring. When the lifting section comes, you step onto their hands with, you stick the landing, holding your pose as they lower you carefully.
You finish the routine without letting your bruised knees slow you down, your chest heaving as sweat drips down your temples.
The coach claps, giving feedback to the squad, but all you can think about is sitting down and catching your breath.
Unconsciously, you find yourself collapsing onto the bleachers—right next to Jay. He doesn't say anything, just pulls a water bottle and towel out of his bag, as if he'd been expecting you to need them.
"Here," he mutters, handing them over.
"Thanks," you say, too exhausted to overthink it. You take a long sip of water before draping the towel over your shoulders.
"How's the performance?" you ask him, still catching your breath.
"You're good," he replies simply.
You pause, blinking at him. "No, like... us. The cheering squad. How did we look?"
Jay shrugs, leaning back slightly on the bleachers, his gaze fixed ahead. "I don't know," he says, his tone casual. "I only had my eyes on you."
The water bottle in your hand almost slips from your grasp.
"W-what?" you stammer, turning to look at him.
He doesn't meet your gaze, his expression cool and indifferent, but there's a small twitch at the corner of his lips. "You heard me," he says, his voice even.
Your face heats up, and you're not sure if it's from the workout or his words. Before you can respond, one of your squadmates calls your name, pulling you back to reality.
"I—uh, thanks," you mumble, scrambling to stand.
"Don't fall," Jay says, glancing at your knees briefly before leaning back and pulling out his phone, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.
Your heart races as you jog back to the squad, Jay's words replaying in your mind. "I only had my eyes on you."
What was that supposed to mean?
Over the following weeks, something shifted. Jay did seem to like you—no, that would be too strong—but he definitely didn't hate you anymore. If anything, it felt like he had resigned himself to your presence.
Your schedules matched perfectly: you'd stop by the music room before your cheer practice, watching him play with quiet awe. After his practice ended, you'd walk together to the gym, where he'd drop you off with a gruff nod.
And during those walks, you talked. A lot.
Jay didn't interrupt or roll his eyes at your endless stream of words, but he didn't say much either. He'd let you ramble about random things—your favorite stories, songs, foods, or some obscure fact you'd read online.
One day, while rifling through your bag in frustration, you whined, "Crap, I always forget to bring an extra shirt!"
Jay didn't respond, just kept walking. You assumed he wasn't even listening.
But the next day, when you showed up for your routine walk to the gym, he handed you a neatly folded shirt.
"Here," he said, his tone flat, as though it wasn't a big deal.
You blinked, staring at it. "Wait, is this for me?"
"No, it's for the bench," he replied dryly. Then, seeing your expression, added, "You said you forget yours. Just take it."
Your heart skipped as you took the shirt, muttering a soft "thank you."
On another day, after practice, you grinned at him. "I really want a spicy ramen—like, with crab sticks and shrimp! Let's go get some!"
He raised an eyebrow. "That's a one-way ticket to high blood pressure," he deadpanned.
You pouted, whining dramatically. "Come on, Jay!"
Yet not long after, you found yourselves seated at a small ramen shop. You happily slurped your noodles, your feet swinging slightly under the table. Jay glanced down at your feet before looking up at you, finding you smiling as you focused on your bowl.
"What?" you asked, catching his gaze.
"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his own noodles.
Spending time with Jay made you lose your guard in the best way.
You weren't as self-conscious anymore, and little things just felt... natural. Like the time you were walking together, mid-laugh, and he suddenly pulled your arm to stop you.
"Look both ways," he mumbled, his hand lingering on your arm as you gripped it instinctively.
You giggled, wrapping your hand around his. "Okay, Dad."
He didn't respond, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.
Another habit of his? Waiting for you after practice, leaning against his motorcycle with his usual nonchalant expression. He'd nod for you to hop on, offering you his spare helmet.
It felt normal now—holding onto him as he drove, the wind whipping around you as the city lights blurred by.
Sometimes, Jay and you didn't even talk. Like when you'd share a cup of ice cream on a bench after practice, the two of you just staring at nothing. He'd sit beside you, watching as you bit down on your spoon absentmindedly.
"You look dumb," he'd say eventually, breaking the silence.
You'd laugh and stick your tongue out at him. "Thanks, Jay. Love the confidence boost."
Jay's attention to small things surprised you most when it came to your ketchup obsession.
It started when you were both sitting at your usual fast-food joint—a chain with a bright red logo and the smell of fries and fried chicken wafting through the air.
You'd always order the same thing: chicken nuggets and fries. But what made you stand out (to Jay, at least) was how you hoarded ketchup packets.
You never even used them at the restaurant. Instead, you'd stuff them into your bag, mumbling something about "saving them for later." Jay didn't ask at first, but the mystery was solved when he saw you in their practice one day, pulling out one of those packets.
You ripped it open quietly, then tipped the packet to your mouth and slurped the ketchup straight out of it.
A week later, during a break, Jay casually handed you a small stack of ketchup packets.
"Where did you get these?" you squealed, your eyes sparkling as you grabbed them from his hand.
"My bandmates ordered fries," he said with a shrug. "They don't like ketchup, so I took them."
You stared at him, your heart doing an annoying little flip. "Jay, you get me," you said dramatically, clutching the packets to your chest like they were a bouquet of roses.
"Don't make this weird," he muttered, already turning away.
You ripped one open immediately, slurping the sweet and tangy ketchup with a grin. "Thanks, Jay!"
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched again—his almost-smile.
Then there was the time in the cafeteria when he handed you a tissue.
You stared at him, confused. "What's this for?"
"Your lip gloss," he said simply, his tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.
You blinked, dumbfounded, as heat rose to your cheeks. How did he even notice that you always wiped off your lip gloss before eating?
You muttered a shy "thanks," taking the tissue as your heart thumped in your chest.
And then there were even smaller things.
Like how he bent down to tie your shoelaces without a word when they came undone during your walk.
Or how he fixed your hair once, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a quick, almost annoyed motion.
Or how he straightened your uniform when it got wrinkled after a particularly rough practice, muttering something about how you looked like "a mess."
They weren't grand gestures. Jay wasn't the type for big declarations or sweeping acts of romance. But it was always the small things that left you breathless—the way he noticed you, the way he cared without saying much.
And maybe, just maybe, the cold, untouchable guitarist didn't hate you as much as he let on.
"That's Park Jongseong's girlfriend!"
"Park Jongseong's girl is so pretty!"
"I didn't know Park Jongseong's girlfriend is so good at dancing!"
But honestly? You weren't sure how to feel about it anymore.
People didn't want to know you. They wanted to know him. Even when someone started a conversation with you, it always led back to Jay.
"How did you two meet?"
"What does he do when he's bored?"
"Does he even smile around you?"
You started noticing how Jay wasn't immune, either. People would corner him in the halls, asking invasive questions about your "relationship," and he'd glare at them in that trademark way of his until they got the hint and left. He never complained, never said anything about it to you, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched tighter these days.
You weren't cool. You weren't special.
You were just someone who had made a stupid, selfish decision to drag his name into your mess. And now? You weren't sure if you could keep it up any longer.
It was a quiet afternoon in the music room. Jay sat across from you, strumming his guitar in the golden light of sunset. Normally, this was when you'd ramble on about whatever random topic popped into your head, but today, the words felt too heavy to come out.
Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them as you stared at the floor.
"I'm sorry if I always bother you," you said suddenly, your voice barely audible.
Jay's fingers stilled on the strings, his head tilting slightly as he glanced at you.
"I... I really don't have any friends," you admitted, resting your chin on your knees. "I think I'm too crazy for the good girls in my class, too dumb for the nerds, and way too soft for the mean girls."
He didn't say anything, but you felt his eyes on you.
"But, you know," you continued, your voice shaky, "you're the first person who's ever... tolerated me. And I really appreciate that."
You laughed weakly, even though it wasn't funny. "Thank you, Park Jongseong, for listening to me go on and on about dystopian movies. For putting up with me when I get loud and excited. For not judging my weird ketchup obsession."
Jay leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, as you let out a long sigh.
"I thought dragging your name into the cheer squad thing would make me feel like I belonged somewhere," you said, your voice breaking. "But it hasn't. If anything, it's just made me feel worse. Like I'm not enough for them. Like I'll never be enough."
Your chest tightened as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "And... I feel like I've dumped all these responsibilities on you because of one stupid little lie I told. It's not fair to you."
Jay stayed silent, but you could feel his presence, heavy and quiet.
You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I think... I think it's time we break up."
Jay's hands froze on the guitar, his entire body going still. His gaze sharpened.
"Break up?" he repeated, his tone even but taut, like he was holding something back.
You nodded, your throat closing up. "Yeah. I've caused you enough trouble already. I think... I think it's better if we just end it. It'll be easier for you."
Jay's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of the guitar as he stared at you. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with something you couldn't place.
Your chest felt like it was caving in. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to say what you really wanted to say. So instead, you nodded.
"Yes," you whispered, barely audible.
The silence that followed was unbearable. You expected him to agree, to maybe sigh in relief or tell you that you were right. But instead, he just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.
Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice low. "Alright."
Your heart sank at the word, even though it was what you'd asked for. You forced yourself to stand, forcing a shaky "thank you" past your lips as you made your way toward the door.
But just as you reached it, his voice stopped you in your tracks.
"But you should know," he said, "that if you think you're not enough, you're wrong."
You froze, your breath hitching. Slowly, you turned to face him.
He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze was fixed on his guitar, his fingers idly plucking at the strings, but there was a softness in his voice that you weren't used to.
"You don't have to try so hard to fit into their world," he said quietly. "You already stand out. You don't see it, but you do."
Your throat tightened as tears pricked at your eyes. "Jay..."
He looked up at you then, his dark eyes piercing but calm. "If you want to end it, I'll let you go," he said, his voice steady. "But don't do it because you think you're causing me trouble. That's just you overthinking, as usual."
The ache in your chest grew unbearable, and for a moment, you thought about staying.
But the weight of your emotions felt too heavy, and you bolted, muttering a weak "thanks" as you ran out of the room, tears already spilling down your cheeks.
You didn't look back, but as you closed the door behind you, you swore you heard the faint sound of his guitar strings—soft, steady, and full of something you didn't quite understand.
By the time you reached the bathroom, you were a mess.
You locked yourself in a stall and let it all out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried—and failed—to convince yourself this was what you wanted.
"It's not even real," you muttered, your voice cracking. "We're not a thing. We were never a thing. Why am I crying like an idiot?"
But no amount of reasoning stopped the ugly sobs from wracking your chest. You clutched some toilet paper, blowing your nose dramatically and telling yourself to get it together.
When you showed up to practice later, your eyes were swollen and red, your nose a little too pink to hide what had happened.
"Y/N, are you okay?" Karina asked, looking concerned.
You forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine! Totally fine! Oh, by the way..." You paused, sniffling slightly. "Jay and I broke up."
The words felt like ripping off a Band-Aid, but you didn't have time to process them before the room erupted.
"What?!" Giselle gasped, clutching her water bottle.
"No way!" Yunjin exclaimed, already pulling out her phone.
Within hours, the news spread across the school faster than you thought possible. Everywhere you went, you could hear whispers and murmurs about the "breakup."
And Park Jongseong?
He was still Park Jongseong.
You spotted him in the hallway, his face set in stone, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp as ever.
He walked like he was on his way to commit murder, every step filled with tension. People gave him a wide berth, whispering things like, "He's even scarier than usual," and, "God, she must've really broken his heart."
But when your eyes met his for a split second, he looked away, his expression you can't read.
Your chest ached painfully every time you passed him. And when you were finally alone at night, you curled up in bed and cried yourself to sleep, the pain in your chest refusing to fade.
By the time your classmates dragged you to karaoke, you were on emotional autopilot. You didn't want to be there, but they'd insisted.
"It'll help you get over him!" Sunoo had said, practically shoving you into the room.
It wasn't helping. At all.
Sunoo grabbed the mic, singing passionately as the lyrics flashed across the screen. "That's why I don't understand... why I'm feeling so bad now, when I know it was my idea."
You froze, staring at the lyrics like they'd personally attacked you. Your lips twitched, but you refused to let the tears fall.
Ni-ki leaned forward, grabbing the mic dramatically. "I could've just denied the truth and lied... why am I the only one, standing, stranded on the same ground?!"
You let out a choked laugh, trying to brush off your growing emotions, but then Sunoo turned to you with wide, knowing eyes. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!"
"Shut up," you muttered, pulling your cardigan over your face to hide the tears forming in your eyes.
The room erupted as Ni-ki wrestled the mic away from Sunoo. "My love, it's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue." Ni-ki sang into the microphone.
You couldn't help it—the tears started spilling as you wiped them furiously with your sleeve, hoping no one would notice.
"It's hard leaving you that way... when I never wanted to!"
Your classmates were belting out the lyrics, screaming into the mic with way too much passion. And somehow, the chaos made it worse.
"Self-denial is a game!" Ni-ki shouted, practically falling to his knees. "It's strange, I never would've wanted it until there was you!"
You sniffled, wiping your cheeks again, but the tears wouldn't stop.
"Y/N, are you crying?!" Sunoo gasped dramatically, leaning closer, his voice high-pitched enough to rival a whistle.
"No!" you wailed, burying your face deeper into your cardigan. "It's just—the lyrics are so stupid!"
Jungwon, ever the responsible one, grabbed the remote and immediately switched the song. "Okay, we need a vibe shift. No more heartbreak songs."
The opening beat of Apple Bottom Jeans blasted through the room, and everyone burst into cheers and laughter.
You couldn't help but laugh, sniffing back the last of your tears as Ni-ki grabbed the mic and jumped onto the couch.
You felt a little lighter. Sure, your heart was still aching, but at least now, you now had friends who made it a little easier to breathe.
The next day, you were required to attend the university baseball game. Every student was, but as part of the cheerleading pep squad, you had absolutely no excuse to skip.
The stadium was packed with thousands of students from your university and the rival school, the energy buzzing in the air. You tugged at the hem of your uniform skirt, your face burning with embarrassment. "Is it really this short?!" you whined, glaring at Giselle.
She shushed you with a wave of her pom-poms. "Relax. It's normal!"
"You don't have to be awkward about it," Karina added, flipping her hair. "Your legs look great!"
Your coach, however, was far less delicate. "We're making it look longer because your legs are short," she said bluntly, not even looking up from her clipboard.
You gasped, utterly dumbfounded. "I—should I be offended, or...?"
The coach just shrugged, moving on with her notes.
Before the game officially began, your squad performed a short routine to hype up the crowd. The music blared through the speakers as you stepped forward, executing a clean front handspring. The crowd roared with approval, but your face burned as your skirt rode up mid-flip.
When the routine ended, you cringed, tugging your skirt back down as you returned to your seat at the front. You waved your pom-poms enthusiastically, shouting the university yell every time your team scored, even if you were still mortified from earlier.
When the game finally ended and the crowd began to thin out, you found yourself standing near the bleachers, clutching your pom-poms and phone. The cheer squad was preparing to take pictures, but you hung back for a moment, trying to catch your breath.
That's when someone approached you.
"Hi," a voice said, warm and slightly out of breath.
You turned to see a guy standing in front of you, wearing his baseball uniform. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the game, and his smile was boyish and shy.
"I'm Heeseung," he introduced himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to say your routine was really cool. And, uh... I was wondering if I could get your number?"
You blinked, your brain stalling. Wait, what?
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the field.
"Y/N! Hurry up!" Sunoo waved his arms dramatically, yelling over the crowd. "We're taking pictures!"
Your face turned even redder as you looked between Heeseung and Sunoo. Panicking, you muttered a quick, "Sorry, I've gotta go!" before rushing off toward your squad, clutching your pom-poms.
By the time you reached your squad, you were out of breath and flustered, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.
You grabbed your bag, rummaging through it in search of a shirt to change into. The crowd had mostly cleared out, and the stadium lights were dimming, but you were too busy muttering to yourself to notice.
Of course, you didn't have a spare shirt. Why would you?
You sighed heavily, dropping your pom-poms into the bag and staring at the empty space inside. Without thinking, you mumbled, "I miss Jay."
The words hung in the air, surprising even you. You froze for a second, realizing what you'd just said out loud.
It had been months since you'd ended things—or whatever it was you'd had—with Jay. And somehow, instead of feeling lighter, you felt worse.
The more you saw him in passing, the more you missed him. The more you craved him. The ache in your chest refused to fade, no matter how much time passed.
Sometimes, you still cried yourself to sleep, clutching your pillow as memories of him flooded your mind.
You hated how much you missed him.
And then there were moments when your body moved on its own, as if drawn to him.
You'd find yourself standing outside the music room, staring at the door like you were waiting for something—or someone—to pull you inside.
But you never went in. You just stood there, your heart heavy, before walking away again.
Or you'd sit at your favorite bench, the one where you used to share ice cream with him after practice. You'd sit there alone, biting the spoon absentmindedly and staring at nothing, replaying old conversations in your head.
It was during one of those quiet moments, as you sat with a half-melted scoop of vanilla in your hand, that the truth finally hit you.
You liked Jay.
No, you more than liked him. You missed him so much it hurt. And the worst part? You had no idea if he missed you, too.
You bit down harder on your spoon, frustration bubbling in your chest.
Why had you been so stupid? Why had you pushed him away when, deep down, he'd been the only one who ever made you feel seen?
Maybe you were too late. Maybe you'd ruined whatever connection you had with him.
But one thought kept circling in your mind, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.
What if you weren't too late?
"Do you party?" Sunoo asked casually, flopping onto your bed like it was his own.
You raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your skepticism. "Not really. I mean, I've been to a few, but it's not my thing. Why?"
"Let's go to a party this weekend! You know Sunghoon, right? The baseball player? He's hosting!"
You laughed, waving him off. "I'll think about it, but probably not."
Sunoo narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but you brushed him off, fully intending to stay home.
But when the weekend came, your plans to stay curled up in bed went out the window.
Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki just barged into your house.
"Why aren't you dressed?!" Sunoo exclaimed, throwing open your closet as Jungwon inspected your makeup drawer.
"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, clutching a pillow like it was a weapon.
"You are going to this party," Ni-ki said, arms crossed like he was your older brother instead of one year younger. "Get ready. Now."
With no way out, you reluctantly threw on a simple crop top and shorts, tying your hair into a ponytail and doing clean, light makeup.
When you arrived at the party, the atmosphere immediately overwhelmed you. The music was loud enough to shake the walls, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something smoky lingering in the air.
You stuck close to Sunoo as he handed you a red cup with some drink you didn't recognize.
"Just take a sip!" he shouted over the music.
"Excuse me for a second," you said, escaping to the balcony.
The moment you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, the fresh air calming your nerves. The cool night breeze felt like a blessing after the suffocating heat inside.
But then, you stiffened.
Sitting in one of the chairs was someone you hadn't expected to see—someone you hadn't seen up close in months.
Jay.
He sat with one foot tapping rhythmically against the ground, a vape in his hand. The dim light from the balcony highlighted his sharp jawline, his pointed nose, and the effortless way his hair slicked back. He wore a simple white shirt under a blue Nike jacket, but somehow, he looked stunning.
Your chest tightened painfully as his head turned, his dark eyes meeting yours.
"Oh," you said awkwardly, frozen in place.
He stared at you for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag from his vape.
Without knowing why, you found yourself walking over to him and sitting quietly beside him, your gaze fixed on the stars above.
"I didn't know you actually smoked," you said softly, breaking the silence.
He hummed, his head tilting slightly as he exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction, making a point to avoid letting any of it near you.
"I don't. Not usually. I don't smoke at school."
He shifted in his seat, sliding the vape into his pocket and straightening his posture.
"Why'd you stop just now?" you asked, glancing at him.
He didn't hesitate. "Your nose is sensitive to strong smells."
Your breath caught, his simple answer hitting you harder than you expected. That was Jay—always quiet, always watching, always knowing without making a big deal of it.
The ache in your chest grew unbearable.
"I'm sorry," the words came out from your mouth.
Jay's gaze snapped to yours, his expression neutral.
"For what?" he asked evenly.
"For just leaving," you said, your voice shaky. "For everything you've done for me, and then me just... walking away. I didn't know what I was feeling back then. I was hurt and scared because... you're you, and I'm just me. I'm not good enough for you—"
Jay didn't respond immediately. His gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "And what are you feeling now?"
You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.
"I... I miss you, Jay," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss everything about you. The small things, the way you cared, even if you acted like you didn't. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for being stupid."
Jay looked at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.
"You're really stupid, aren't you?" he said, his voice calm but laced with a faint humor that made your heart ache.
You managed a weak laugh, wiping at the corner of your eye. "Yeah, I am."
Jay exhaled slowly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.
"I thought you'd like me and never break it off because that's what happens in those books you always talk about, right?" he said, his voice softening. "But somehow, I fell harder than I ever expected."
Your breath hitched as he let out a quiet laugh—so rare, so warm, it made your chest ache. He finally looked at you, his eyes glinting with something vulnerable.
"I've always waited for you," he admitted, his voice low. "Waited for you to stop standing outside the music room and just walk in. But you never did."
Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face.
"I saw you," he continued. "Every time you sat on that bench, on our place... I saw you at a distance, sitting there, staring at nothing. And I waited. I always waited for your eyes to look at me the way I was looking at you."
Tears began to swell in your eyes as you took in his words.
Jay leaned closer, his movements gentle.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For being such a coward. For not walking up to you when I wanted to. I told myself I'd wait, but waiting just hurt more because all I could do was think about you. About us."
He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his hand warm and grounding. "I'm hurting. I've been hurting since you left. Do you feel the same way?"
The tears spilled over, warm and slow, streaking down your cheeks. You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch as you nodded. "I do, Jay. I've been hurting, too."
He watched you closely, his eyes softening as you smiled at him through your tears.
"You're crying," he murmured, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb.
"Yeah, well, that's your fault," you whispered, laughing through the tears.
Jay shook his head, his lips tugging into the faintest smile. "You're impossible," he muttered, his voice affectionate.
"And you're annoying," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.
But neither of you moved away.
The balcony felt smaller, quieter, as Jay's hand lingered on your cheek. His gaze flickered to your lips for a brief second, and your heart jumped, but he didn't move, waiting instead for you to close the gap.
So you did.
You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. His lips were warm and hesitant at first, but then he shifted, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you back.
His hand slid into your hair, his fingers brushing lightly against your scalp as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, your lips moving in perfect sync.
When you pulled back just slightly to catch your breath, his forehead rested against yours, and his lips hovered mere inches away.
His voice was low, and soft as he whispered against your lips, "Don't ever think of yourself like that. You're more than enough."
His words struck you deep, and your eyes fluttered open to meet his. "But... you're you, and I'm just me," you murmured, your voice barely audible.
Jay didn't let you finish. His lips captured yours again, silencing your insecurities. When he pulled back, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it made your breath hitch.
"I like you for being you," he said simply.
You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with emotion. "But you're like a big star," you said, holding up your fingers to make the shape of a small star, "and I'm just... a little star."
Jay's lips curved into the softest smile before he leaned forward again, kissing you gently.
His voice was tender when he murmured against your lips, "A little star that shines brightest in my eyes."
Your cheeks burned, and you couldn't help but let out a flustered laugh, lightly hitting his chest. "How come you always know how to get my heart?!"
Jay chuckled, kissing your forehead as he hugs you.
Jay just wanted to play guitar. That was all. He didn't ask for the reputation, the attention, or the corny nickname the school had slapped on him—the "cold, untouchable hot guitarist." God, how he hated that.
Every day felt the same: girls cornering him in the halls, asking for his number or accidentally brushing their hands against his arms or guitar case. His eyes would glare like knives as he gritted out, "Don't touch me."
He hated it—the fake admiration, the empty attention. Everyone seemed to care about him for all the wrong reasons. And when they annoyed him too much?
"Fuck off," he'd mutter, his tone so cold it practically froze people in their tracks.
But you? You were different.
Jay remembered the school festival three years ago. He'd been sitting in Jake's booth, tuning his guitar lazily while Jake served spicy noodles to an occasional brave (or dumb) soul willing to risk their stomach for the thrill.
It was supposed to be a chill afternoon, but then you showed up.
You were the only person who kept coming back to Jake's booth. Every hour.
"I swear, you're going to burn a hole in your stomach," Jake had told you, half-laughing as he handed you yet another bowl of his stupidly spicy noodles.
"Totally worth it," you'd chirped, your voice high-pitched and cheerful. "Do you have a permanent shop? I'd eat there every day!"
Jay had glanced up from his guitar, staring at you through the slits of the tent. You were completely oblivious to his presence, happily slurping noodles as Jake made small talk with you.
Later, Jake stormed into the tent, tossing his apron onto the chair. "We're sold out," he'd announced. "And it's her fault."
Jay had raised an eyebrow. "Her?"
Jake pointed outside. "The spicy noodle girl. She's been coming back all day. We sold out because of her."
Jay hadn't said anything, but his lips had twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming before he went back to tuning his guitar.
Jay hated everyone. He hated how they tugged at him, how they fawned over him for no reason. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to hate you.
He remembered the little things—moments that no one else seemed to notice.
Like the time you walked down the hallway with that cute little bag, the kind of bag that didn't really suit a high schooler but looked perfect on you.
It had a figurine hanging from it, neatly wrapped in a plastic pouch, and you carried it like it was your most prized possession.
Then, just days later, he'd found you outside the lost and found office, whining and crying. You'd lost the figurine, and you'd spent an entire lunch period pacing back and forth in front of the office, waiting for someone to turn it in.
Or the time he saw you clapping and cheering during a cheerleading pep squad performance, smiling so brightly that it felt contagious. You weren't even part of the squad back then, just a spectator, but you looked so genuinely happy that even he couldn't look away.
Then there was your PathFit (PE) class. Jay hadn't meant to stop by, but he'd found himself standing near the open door, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, as his eyes drifted toward you. You were on the floor, legs stretched into a perfect split, your forehead pressed to the ground as you stretched.
Jay once again noticed you searching frantically for a notebook you'd dropped in the hallway. You were crouched on the floor, mumbling to yourself, "This is why I can't have nice things."
He'd spotted the notebook a few feet away, picked it up, and placed it on the bench beside him.
When you found it moments later, you gasped, "Oh my God, it's a miracle!"
You always said you were just a simple girl. That no one really noticed you or cared about someone like you.
But in Jay's eyes, you were the opposite of invisible.
And every time he thought about you, he realized the same thing.
You stood out more than anyone else ever could.
When you'd spilled water all over his face.
His first reaction wasn't anger or annoyance, but something that surprised even him—he noticed how beautiful you looked up close.
Your wide eyes stared at him in shock, your pouty lips forming a small gasp as you muttered incoherent apologies. The faint, sweet floral scent of your perfume hit him, and for a second, he forgot the cold water dripping down his face.
Jay closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to take in more of that intoxicating scent, grounding himself. But before he could say anything, you bolted, muttering a quick "Sorry!" as you sprinted down the hallway.
He almost laughed when you tripped on your knees, scrambling awkwardly to escape. He stood there for a moment, wiping the water off his face with his sleeve.
The second interaction was you crashing out his guitar. He almost didn't notice his guitar on the floor because his eyes were locked on you.
Slowly, you raised two fingers in a peace sign, your expression a mix of guilt and panic.
"Uh... sorry?" you muttered before immediately backing out of the room.
Jay stood there, staring at the empty doorway, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even laugh, but the sound never left his throat. You were gone before he could even start a conversation.
And then there was the volleyball incident.
Jay didn't even see the ball coming. One second he was walking into the gym with his friends, and the next, a sharp pain hit him square on the nose.
"Shit," he hissed, dropping to the ground and clutching his face.
When he opened his eyes, you were hovering over him, your face inches from his. Your hair framed your face like a curtain, and there it was again—that scent. Sweet, light, floral.
He blinked up at you, stunned into silence. For a split second, he forgot about the pain, about the blood dripping from his nose. He was too focused on you—your soft features, your panicked expression, the way your lips trembled as you tried to form words.
Before he could open his mouth to tell you he was fine, the blood started pouring out of his nose.
"Crap!" you yelped, standing up quickly, flailing in panic. "I—I'll get help! I'm so sorry!"
And then you ran. Again.
Jay lay there, groaning as Jake handed him a tissue, snickering the entire time.
"Shut up," Jay muttered, even though Jake don't even say anything.
The breaking point came when Jay heard about the rumor that he was in a relationship.
He was furious. Annoyed didn't even begin to describe it. He hated how his name was constantly dragged into things, but this? A fake relationship? With some girl he didn't even know?
Storming through the hallways, he cornered one of the guys he'd overheard spreading the rumor. Grabbing the boy by the collar, he slammed him against the lockers.
"Tell me who started it," Jay demanded, his voice low and sharp. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes boring into the boy's.
"I-I don't know! I swear!" the boy stammered, flinching under Jay's glare. "They said it was some girl—Y/N! Y/N told the cheerleaders about it!"
At the mention of your name, Jay froze. His grip loosened slightly.
For a moment, he couldn't believe it. Of all people, it was you.
Releasing the boy with a shove, Jay stepped back, his emotions in a whirlwind. He should've been angrier—should've been ready to confront you and demand answers. But instead, he found himself... curious.
He should've been irritated. He should've hated you for dragging his name into a mess.
But somehow, he didn't.
Instead, he felt something he couldn't quite place. And he wasn't sure what annoyed him more—the rumor itself or the fact that the thought of being tied to you didn't bother him as much as it should have.
“Oh my God, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Did they just come back together?!”
Whispers followed the two of you as you walked hand in hand down the hallway.
Jay’s tall frame dressed in his usual all-black outfit. His guitar case was slung over his back, the strap resting effortlessly against his shoulder, and his hand held yours with an ease that made your heart race.
Every head turned to look at you. It wasn’t just the sight of Jay—cold, untouchable, and intimidating—but the sight of him with you, a cheerful and bubbly cheerleader.
You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice as you whispered, “Do you think a guitarist and a cheerleader is a weird combination?”
Jay glanced down at you, one eyebrow raised, his expression softening. “No,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady. “You and me? We’re a perfect combination.”
You let out a laugh, lightly bumping your shoulder against his arm. “God, you’re so cheesy.”
He smirked faintly but didn’t respond, the corners of his lips tugging upward in amusement.
Park Jongseong as a fake boyfriend was good.
But Park Jongseong as a real boyfriend? He was so much better.
You used to think of him as just the guy with the sharp jawline, the deadpan expression, and those sharp, eagle-like eyes that seemed to shoot lasers at anyone who got too close. He was the “fuck off” and “shut up” guy, the untouchable guitarist who kept everyone at arm’s length.
But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, you realized how wrong you’d been.
Jay wasn’t just sweet—he was unbelievably sweet.
You remembered all the little lies you’d told about him when you were trying to fit in with the cheer squad.
“He’s so sweet,” you’d said back then, fabricating stories about how he’d treat you like a princess.
But now? Those stories felt laughable because the reality of being with Jay was so much better.
When you were tired, he’d carry your bag without a word.
“Let me take it,” he’d say simply, slipping the strap off your shoulder.
He opened doors for you—every single time. If you walked through a doorway together, you didn’t even have to reach for the handle because Jay would already be holding it open, waiting patiently for you to step through.
Once, when you were getting into a car, you’d bumped your head against the roof. From that moment on, Jay always, always put a hand over your head to make sure it didn’t happen again.
“Careful,” he’d murmur, voice low but gentle.
You’d joked about him cooking for you once, completely unaware of how true it would become.
One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jay had brought you to his house. “You’re tired,” he’d said. “Let me make you something.”
You hadn’t expected much—maybe instant ramen or a sandwich at most. But then you’d watched, wide-eyed, as he moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, chopping vegetables, seasoning meat, and sautéing everything.
“Do you cook often?” you’d asked, leaning against the counter as the delicious aroma filled the room.
“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing at you briefly. “Jake says my food is too good for him, though.”
You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. Jay, the sharp-tongued guitarist, was making you a home-cooked meal. And it wasn’t just good—it was amazing.
Then there were the kisses.
You’d made up a story once, saying, “He kisses me goodbye every morning.” You thought it was the perfect romantic lie to impress the cheerleaders.
But now? Jay had made it a reality.
Every morning before he left for his own class, he’d touch your cheek lightly, his fingers brushing against your skin.
Then, he’d lean in, his lips meeting yours in the gentlest, softest kiss.
“See you later,” he’d say, before turning and walking away.
Each time, your heart would flutter uncontrollably, your fingers brushing against your lips as you watched him go.
"Aftercare after sex"
Except now, the real thing had turned out to be even better.
“Jay!” you whined, your hand gripping his hair as your hips moved uncontrollably against his mouth.
His tongue worked magic against your clit, circling and sucking gently while his long fingers moved inside you. His fingers curled just right, hitting your sweet spot effortlessly, and you gasped, your jaw going slack from the overwhelming sensation.
Your stomach tightened as the heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt yourself getting closer with each passing second.
Jay let out a low hum, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His free hand moved up to intertwine with yours, grounding you even as you felt like you might fall apart.
“Feel so good,” you sobbed, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. “Don’t want to stop.”
Jay pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening as he murmured, “Are you close, baby?”
You nodded frantically, your breathing erratic.
He leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him, your tongue meeting his as the kiss grew messy and desperate. His fingers didn’t slow for a second, pumping relentlessly inside you as you gasped against his mouth.
When you broke the kiss, your eyes were teary, your chest heaving. Jay looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his own breathing labored as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he moved back down between your legs. Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit again, sucking hard.
Your body jolted, your hands clutching at the sheets as you screamed his name. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum—”
Jay hummed in approval, his tongue working in perfect sync with his fingers, coaxing you to the edge. His free hand squeezed yours gently, the small gesture making your heart flutter even as your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face.
“I love you,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I love you, I love you—”
Your back arched as the tension inside you snapped, and your vision blurred with stars. You cried out, your body shaking as you came, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.
Jay stayed with you through it all, his tongue and fingers slowing to help you ride out the waves. When you finally slumped back against the bed, exhausted and trembling, he moved up beside you, brushing the hair from your face.
He kissed you softly, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips as he fixed your shirt and wiped you down with gentle care.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, soothing. “You did so good.”
Jay was definitely good at aftercare.
“Is it true that Park Jongseong is… like, huge in bed?”
You flushed instantly, your thoughts flashing to the one time you’d seen him fully exposed, when he’d let you take him in your hand.
Yeah, he was definitely huge.
"Did he really let you touch his guitar?"
You stared down at the sleek Stratocaster electric guitar now resting gently in your lap. Jay handed you a white marker, his eyes soft as he watched your expression shift from confusion to awe.
Your fingers lightly brushed over the strings and the smooth, glossy surface of the guitar’s body. “What’s this for?” you asked, holding up the white marker he had placed in your hand.
“I need you to sign your name on my guitar,” he said casually.
Your eyes widened as you looked between the guitar and Jay, who was now sitting beside you. “W-wait,” you stammered, your voice rising slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it—”
“Baby,” he interrupted, “you’re not ruining it.” He leaned closer, gently pointing at a spot near the edge of the guitar’s body. “Right there. That’s where I want it. Sign it for me, hmm?”
You swallowed hard, this wasn’t just any guitar—it was his guitar. The one he cherished.
“Okay,” you whispered, nodding as you carefully uncapped the marker.
You hovered the pen above the guitar for a moment, practicing your signature in the air as your nerves fluttered.
Jay chuckled softly beside you, his voice warm. “You’re acting like you’re signing a million-dollar contract.”
“This is more serious than that,” you shot back, your lips curving into a nervous smile.
Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed the tip of the marker to the glossy surface, your hand moving carefully as you signed your name. The white ink glided smoothly across the black body, and when you pulled the marker away, you stared at the result with wide eyes.
“Perfect,” Jay murmured.
You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze lingered on the guitar. His usual sharp, stoic expression was replaced with something softer, his eyes shining as he traced your signature with his finger.
He looked up at you, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of warmth. Then, leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.
Your cheeks burned as you gripped the marker tightly, unsure of what to say.
Jay pulled back slightly, his smile still in place. “Now it’s perfect,” he said simply, taking the guitar from your lap and standing up.
You watched as he adjusted the strap and slung it over his shoulder. His fingers moved instinctively to the strings, testing a few chords, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering to your signature.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice casual, but you could hear the pride beneath it.
“It does,” you said softly, your chest feeling warm and full.
It was the school festival again, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. Still wearing your cheerleading uniform from your earlier routine, you tugged at your cousin’s arm, practically dragging her through the bustling crowd. The stadium was alive with energy—students cheering, music blasting from nearby booths, and the smell of snacks wafting through the air.
“Come on, we’re going to miss it!” you squealed, your ponytail bouncing as you hurried forward, your pom-poms tucked under your arm.
Your cousin groaned dramatically, trailing behind you. “You’ve been talking about this all day. Who are we even going to see?”
“My boyfriend!” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “My boyfriend's in a band!”
“Boyfriend?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”
You turned to her with a mock gasp, clutching your chest like she’d insulted you. “Excuse you. I’ve had one for months now.”
Your cousin raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, then. Let’s see this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”
The two of you found seats near the front, and you craned your neck, scanning the stage as the band members set up. The noise of the crowd grew louder, students and visitors alike cheering as the festival program officially began.
And then he appeared.
Jay stepped onto the stage, standing out against the bright festival decorations. The strap of his guitar rested comfortably on his shoulder, the instrument gleaming under the stage lights—and there it was, your signature on its glossy surface.
Your heart thudded wildly in your chest, a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you clapped your hands together in excitement.
“Okay, but which one is your boyfriend?” your cousin asked, squinting at the stage as if trying to piece it together.
You didn’t even hesitate. Pointing toward Jay, you said proudly, “The guitarist. His name is Park Jongseong. That’s my boyfriend.”
Your attention was locked on Jay as he adjusted his guitar strap and tested a few chords. His sharp, eagle-like eyes scanned the crowd, his usual stoic expression giving him an air of effortless cool. But then, something changed.
His gaze stopped on you.
Jay’s piercing eyes softened, his lips curving into the faintest smile, the kind of smile he rarely let anyone see. It was small, barely noticeable to most, but you knew it was for you.
Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to hide the giddy grin that threatened to take over your face. Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced as he looked at you.
After a brief moment, Jay’s gaze dropped to his guitar. He adjusted the tuning, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the music. He stole one last glance at you before focusing on his task, a quiet confidence radiating from him as he prepared to play.
Your cousin, still in shock, nudged you. “Okay, he’s hot. How did you—like, how did you—end up with him?”
You laughed, brushing her off as you continued to watch Jay. “It’s a long story,” you said, your voice dreamy.
As the band began their set, the crowd’s cheers grew louder, and Jay’s fingers danced effortlessly over the strings. The sound was mesmerizing, and your chest swelled with pride as you watched him command the stage.
And as you sat there, smiling like an idiot, you realized once again how lucky you were to call him yours.
pairing: non-idol!scpresident!jungwon x unistudent!reader
summary: when you finally realize the student council president’s genuine affection for you, you’re strewn into a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected emotions, caught between the playful banter you once shared and the deeper feelings making themselves known to you. what seemed like ordinary interactions suddenly take on new meanings, leaving you questioning everything you thought you knew about him and yourself.
contains/warnings: college!au, fluff, frenemies to lovers trope, fem reader but could be gn reader too, mature language/tone, mentions of societal pressures. let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 5.7k
author's notes: this is, in fact, still inspired by the book better than the movies now that i have actually finished reading it lmao
"fuck," you muttered after finally slotting in your car in the staff parking lot, yanking the handbrake then gathering your things in your arms. you were already ten minutes late for your 8 am class, and there was no way you were going to waste any more time circling around the campus for a free spot. mrs. anderson was not a nice professor to those who abused the 15-minute grace period, especially that she only had a little over an hour for lecture.
you jumped out of your car, only to be met with a familiar face, raising a judgmental eyebrow at you. you groaned out loud, to which yang jungwon chuckled, obviously amused. it seemed that you always found a way to be entertaining for the university student council president.
jungwon crossed his arm and shook his head, clicking his tongue in the process in a teasing yet reprimanding way. "breaking rules this early in the morning?" he glanced at your car. "you're always so bold."
you slung your bag on your shoulders and moved to get past him. jungwon stepped to the side to block you, earning him another groan of frustration from you.
“dude, seriously, no one would notice. it’s just gonna be an hour then i’ll take it out.” you glanced impulsively at your watch, and panic started to settle in more. you had no time to argue with jungwon right now. later, maybe.
jungwon smirked as he noticed the worry on your face. “fine. but you owe me one because i’m gonna stick out my neck for you for this.”
you then ran past him, mindlessly calling out a ‘thanks!’ before disappearing into your building.
you would worry about your unfortunate debt to jungwon later. somehow, it always managed to fix itself anyway. this wasn’t the first time he had done something solid for you, and you were lucky you were still on his good side. you just didn’t understand how though, because it was common knowledge in the campus that jungwon was the most serious student council president the university had.
“i’ll just thank whatever god is looking out for me, then,” you muttered, walking into the lecture hall with one minute to spare.
“hey, there you are,” you called out to sunoo. you just came back from moving your car to the student’s parking spaces, and he had kindly gotten you your meal ahead of time. he knew you well enough that you wouldn’t have the patience to stand in line that morning after how a while ago went down.
sunoo beamed at you brightly, pushing the tray with your breakfast across where you would be seated. you plopped down on the chair, taking your wallet out and handing him some cash for the payment.
“you look horrible,” he commented before proceeding to eat his mint choco ice cream. in contrast to you, he had his life together and had a proper meal before going to uni, so he had the privilege to have a cold snack that early. “you should seriously get some rest.”
you sighed, taking the chopsticks and spoon. “i would love to, but i’m pressed for time. i really need all the subjects i got this semester,” you told him, then took a spoonful of rice in.
you had taken a leave of absence last semester due to a health emergency, which made you delayed out of your own will. even though things were changing and society values graduating on time a little less, your guardians, unfortunately, hadn’t evolved with it yet. there was pressure within the family to finish studies quickly and in a linear fashion, and meeting anything less than that expectation would guarantee backhanded comments and disappointment. you literally had no choice when you were afflicted with sickness, but if your traditional family said so, you’d ultimately have to go with what they say.
sunoo shrugged, giving you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“anyway, has jungwon told you what he wanted in exchange for this morning?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
you rolled your eyes at him, but you were slightly used to it when he teased you like that. you didn’t know where it was coming from, but somehow, sunoo thought that jungwon, the no-nonsense student council officer, was interested in you. “no,” was all you replied with, eyeing him pointedly.
sunoo let out a laugh before stuffing his face with his snack. “i’m telling you,” he said in-between spoonfuls, “he likes you. this is the third time he’s let you get away with parking violations. he’ll probably tell you it’s all good too, like he always has.”
your eyebrows knit in confusion. “what? be for real, sunoo.”
it was his turn to roll his eyes at you, waving his utensil in the air. “you be for real. jungwon always lets you off the hook. exhibit a: he caught you bringing in a flavored beer last week, but he only laughed at you and said ‘be careful.’” sunoo looked at you expectantly for a response. he exhaled in frustration when you simply blinked at him, then continued, “exhibit b: he defended you when you disrespected the school registrar, and was the one who took the heat even though you were totally in line for disciplinary action ‘cos you called her an old fart.”
he threw up his hand in exasperation when he was only met with silence. “dude! if those were any other people, he wouldn’t even bat an eye, and worse, he’d let the admin know!” he smiled at you like he had won a competition, but you weren’t even participating in the first place.
“you’re delusional,” you finally said, choosing to focus on your food.
he let out a snicker, standing up to throw his empty ice cream container. you stuck out your tongue at your bestfriend, and he only laughed at you.
“i may be delusional, but you’re the one in denial here.”
your laptop’s fan was vibrating quite loudly now, but you couldn’t care much about that for now. it was currently the middle of the semester, and you had four report outlines to submit by friday and 1 presentation tomorrow cap this week off.
it was thursday night already.
you were a good student, and you didn’t cram as much as possible. but with all courses you enlisted, you were going to end up doing it one way or another. because you had two exams earlier last tuesday, that left you only tonight until tomorrow at 9 am to finish a comprehensive report presentation. you swore that you were on the verge of getting hospitalized, but maybe finishing this could miraculously heal you.
with papers, writing materials, and gadgets scattered in front of you, you simply kept typing away and scanning through your references, molding the perfect script and slideshow without regard for your grumbling stomach. you may be getting judging looks from the baristas of the cafe for staying overnight in exchange for a single plastic cup of coffee, but there was no time to feel shame.
“y/n??”
you paused, caught off-guard that someone had called out your name when you had specifically chosen a small, lesser-known cafe to do this requirement. much more bewildering, it was already 3 am. who could it possibly be that this coincidence had happened?
you looked up from the screen, and your eyes widened slightly at the sight of sunoo and jungwon walking towards the table you had colonized. sunoo seemed to be genuinely surprised, while the guy beside him was already giving you his trademark smirk.
“look who’s being a responsible student,” he teased with a chuckle, sliding into the seat in front of you. sunoo followed suit, a familiar glint twinkling in his eyes.
“ugh, what are you knuckleheads doing here?” you rhetorically asked, finally getting back to your work. “don’t answer that. i’m too busy to know.”
you saw jungwon put a hand over his chest through peripheral vision, acting like your words had hurt him. “i’m just complimenting you.”
“yeah, right.”
“for real,” he said with a laugh. “such a sight to see.”
sunoo cleared his throat. “so… didn’t know you were here. are you okay?” he asked, thankfully interrupting your banter. if he didn’t, you would have totally forgotten your report and argued with jungwon until daylight.
“i’m swamped,” you replied, closing your eyes for a second because of how dry they felt. you had been staring at your bright screen for hours now that even one of the staff had told you to go home and rest a little while ago. you could only refuse then thank them awkwardly, before ordering another small cup of coffee out of pressure and shame. “i only have til 8 or 9 to finish this.”
“have you even eaten?” jungwon cut in, putting his hand to cover the screen. your eyes shot up at him, glaring and attempting to swat it away. he only clicked his tongue in reprimand, taking the laptop and moving it so that it was facing him.
“hey, stop messing around!”
jungwon held a hand over your mouth, effectively shushing you. you leaned back in surprise at the contact, and continued to glare at him.
“stay put and wait,” he instructed seriously, suddenly making you feel small.
you watched as jungwon gestured for sunoo to move aside, and he got out of his seat and walked to the counter. he ordered a couple of things and waited for them to arrive. in a few minutes, he was already going back to your table, carrying a tray of pasta and a warm glass of water. he placed them in front of you. with his eyes, he was firmly telling you to eat or else you wouldn’t be getting your laptop back.
you and him had a staring contest. you couldn’t believe that he was actually making you do this. all that was in your head was your deadline, and that you had to practice reporting this in class. when he seemed like he wasn’t going to budge, a resigned breath escaped your lips, and you picked up the utensils to eat.
“so you do listen,” jungwon remarked, pulling a chair so that he was now sitting by your side. he sat down, watching you like some overly strict parent forcing their kid to finish their meal (which was not good, by the way).
“only because i’m hungry,” you shot back.
“oh please, you think i’m god-sent.”
“no, you actually came from hell.”
“hellishly handsome and kind, true.”
a cough interrupted yet again the two of you, and you both looked at the culprit. sunoo sent the both of you a knowing smile, and the two of you suddenly became quiet, with you just chomping down on your food. your bestfriend shook his head with a smile. “you’re impossible.”
jungwon cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the table. “i can help you out. i’m free anyway.”
sunoo’s eyebrows shot up, obviously stunned. “but didn’t you just say-”
the other lad glared at him, and he quickly kept quiet. a small smile did play on his lips though, and you raised an eyebrow at them, suspicious.
you turned towards jungwon. “why are you being nice? are you adding this to the list of debts i already have? no thanks.”
he crossed his arms, leaning back on the chair. “relax. i just wanna help.”
you stared at him for a while. it was an odd offer because jungwon could definitely just leave you alone, making the most of the hours left before his first class with sleep. you didn’t know what was in it for him either, when, as far as you knew, you were sort of frenemies. true, he did help you out a lot of times, but those were nothing like this– a literal presentation.
he looked at you expectantly, and if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, he actually had a nervous expression all over his face. you cocked your head to the side, still clearly confused, but then, you nodded slowly, accepting the assistance he was extending. “okay then…”
jungwon smiled and let out the breath that he looked like he was holding in. “great.” he grabbed the laptop and moved it in front of him again. “you sit tight and rest. you can check what i did in a while,” he said, stretching his arms before typing.
you gave him a strange look, which he probably didn’t notice, then sent another look towards sunoo, who was smirking. you rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue at him.
“i’ll take my leave then,” sunoo suddenly announced, standing up abruptly.
you expected jungwon to protest and force him to hang around, but he stayed mute and focused on whatever he was constructing in your laptop. your mouth opened partly in disbelief, and you could only send a nod in acknowledgement.
sunoo winked at you one last time before leaving you alone with his friend.
you had no idea what to think of this situation, but it seemed like jungwon was really doing his part. you didn’t doubt whatever he came up with either, because the subject was a general education subject that any major could take, and that he was the student council president. people didn’t become a member of the student council, much less be the president, if they didn’t have enough academic credentials for it. you were pretty sure he was running for the valedictorian honors for your batch.
“thanks. this is really nice of you,” you murmured, cupping your coffee and glueing your gaze towards it.
you waited for the sarcastic reply, but it never came. instead, jungwon had given you a soft smile, telling you, “it’s nothing,” and then continuing with finishing up your work. a strange feeling churned in your stomach at that, but you put it off, opening the docs in your tablet instead to distract yourself through practicing.
“no, no, no, no,” you muttered repeatedly, panic multiplying as you parked once again in a professor’s slot the following morning.
jungwon had gotten you two more hours of rest than you initially predicted, and you had decided to relax after wrapping it up with him back in the cafe at 6 am. because you felt complacent, you figured you could spend those two hours haphazardly, leading you to input the wrong hour in your phone’s alarm clock. you were on the verge of tears, trying to salvage your day, but you knew it was impossible– you were already 45 minutes behind.
“didn’t i just get you out of trouble for this?”
you looked up, eyesight blurred by the wetness in your eyes, but you recognized the voice to be jungwon’s.
“woah, what’s wrong?” the tone in his voice immediately noticed probably when he noticed how you were literally about to breakdown.
you dropped to the ground, scattering your things around you, and buried your face into yours hands. big, ugly sobs racked your body, as you tried to form any coherent reply, but only a jumble of syllables made their way to jungwon’s ears.
“wasted your effort…” you somehow spoke in-between cries. “late to reporting…”
a strong hold suddenly enveloped you, and you could feel his chin resting on your head, and his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. you could hear the faint shushing sounds he was making, trying to calm you down from your violent breakdown. you couldn’t concentrate on anything else except the fact that you had probably been failed by the professor for this requirement, and that there was a faint stinging feeling on your knees, likely due to your fall.
“calm down,” jungwon’s voice broke through for a moment, “don’t worry. we can fix this.”
you continued to sob, but you did let him guide you up. despite not seeing anything, you followed his lead, walking to wherever he was taking you while you were there crying as quietly as you could. he didn’t stop whispering encouraging words to you, for which you were thankful. though they only slightly made sense, hearing his voice was grounding you and helping you calm down little by little.
“stay here, i’ll be back,” was the last thing you could make out from your sniffles and whimpers before you crumpled yourself into a small ball, bringing your knees to your chest.
when a long while had passed, you had finally stopped crying and squinted at your surroundings. you were in an unfamiliar room that was filled with bookshelves, electronic equipment, and many tables. you saw your bag by your feet, with all the things you let go shoved in it.
as if right on time, the door gently swung open to reveal yang jungwon. he gave you a small smile, probably relieved that you were done with the hysterical crying. the embarrassment was slowly starting to sink in, making you fixate your line of sight to the floor.
“how’re you feeling?” you heard him ask then saw the chair beside you shift. “better?”
you took a glimpse of him before looking down again. “yeah,” you mumbled. “still a bit shitty cos i know i failed it though.”
“hey.” a hand appeared in front of you, holding your chin and making you look up. you met his gaze, small smile still on his lips. “it’s okay now. talked to your professor and told him you had a medical emergency. you’re set to report next week, so you should just rest for now.”
your eyes widened at his news, a smile of your own breaking out. “no way…”
jungwon chuckled and pinched your cheek lightly. “yes way.” he leaned back, retracting his hand, which made you feel slightly disappointed for some reason. “texted sunoo too. he’ll get your car and drive you back to your dorm. i’d do that, but i have a meeting in a while.” he tilted his head to the side, eyes still fixated on you. “just wanted to make sure you’re alright before i leave.”
you pursed your lips, unsure of how to react right now. “yeah, i am. thank you, really, jungwon.”
he let out a small laugh, and your insides started flipping the way they did back at the cafe earlier that morning. “i’m not student council president for nothing.”
you blinked a couple of times, thinking about what he said, then what sunoo had been teasing you with. was he student council president just to help you? because you were sure as hell that there were no known cases of him doing this for others. how did he even know which room to go to? did he actually pay special attention to you like sunoo had been hounding you about?
“...go ahead then.”
your head snapped up, and he was giving you that playful smile– only now, it seemed laced with fondness as well. you didn’t know if you were just overthinking things or not.
“sure, thanks,” you muttered, nodding a couple of times. “i’ll wait for sunoo too then.”
with that, yang jungwon left you alone in where you presumed to be was the student council’s room. you stayed frozen in your seat, giving the events of today more thought than usual.
if you were to give in to your brain, jungwon had never treated anyone else the way he treated you, whether as a normal person or as the student council president.
sure, you had seen him help other students before– it was technically his job. he would be around the campus answering fershmen’s questions, organizing study groups, or resolving conflicts. but anything like this? going out of his way to cover for you with a professor, making sure you got another chance, and arranging for your bestfriend to take care of you when he couldn’t? was that just being helpful too?
you bit your lip, recalling all the little things jungwon had done for you all this time. if back then, you thought of those as just his general tendency to be a kind and responsible frenemy, you certainly didn’t think that anymore. who would stay behind to help with a requirement that didn’t involve him, especially at the break of dawn? what kind of student council officer would let you get away for things that immediately warranted verbal and written warnings? sunoo’s teasing words then floated back into your mind: ‘you do realize he doesn’t do this for anyone else, right?’
your heart continued throbbing at that thought. no way. there was no way that yang jungwon, the ideal, basically perfect human that he was, had been giving you special treatment… right?
you leaned back in your chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, but the heat in your face said everything. “oh no,” you whispered to yourself, “sunoo might actually be right.”
the faint sound of a knock at the door broke you from your spiraling thoughts, and you sat up properly to see sunoo peeking in.
“ready?” he asked, the usual mischievous grin plastered on his face.
“yeah…” was what you told him, but if he was actually asking about jungwon, then your answer would have been completely different.
that weekend, you went out for several jogs to clear your mind, but with the serenity of your route, your rumination only became worse.
sunoo’s voice kept echoing in your head, as persistent as ever. when he drove you back to your dorm last friday, he had been going on and on about how jungwon was head over heels for you and how he would never do this for just anyone. and that you were an idiot.
each step against the pavement seemed to pop out a new memory of jungwon in your mind– how he always seemed to notice the small things about you, how his teasing was never truly mean-spirited, and how he always seemed to be there at the exact moment you needed help. heck
you shook your head as you turned a corner, trying to focus on actually clearing your head from jungwon-related thoughts, but as if the universe had a sense of humor, you spotted the very man your mind had been obsessed over for a couple of days now. jungwon was at a student parking lot, standing by the bike racks and kneeling down. you slowed your pace without thinking to see that he was adjusting the chain on a student’s bike. you watched as he gave the bike a quick test ride to make sure it was working properly again before handing it back to the grateful owner.
your chest tightened as you saw the kind smile on his face. that certainly made a mess of your mind and heart again. he could’ve just ignored the poor guy, didn’t have to help, but he still did. just like how he acted to you. only you knew how he helped you and how he helped others were completely different.
“are you stalking me, l/n?”
you snapped out of your thoughts, feeling like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped all over you. it was too late– jungwon had already spotted you. he was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, with the same teasing grin on his face.
“i’m not stalking you,” you defensively blurted out. you cleared your throat, surprised by how your voice came out higher than usual. “i’m just… jogging. you happened to be around my route. haha.”
“sure,” he called out, walking towards you. “i was the one who ended up here, where you were. total coincidence, right?”
you rolled your eyes, but you were sure that your face was already hot red. “don’t flatter yourself.”
“alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up. “you heading back then?”
“yeah…”
“i’ll walk you,” he offered casually, falling into step beside you before you could protest.
it was a quiet walk, and you didn’t know whether it was a comfortable silence or not. the image of sunoo screaming ‘i knew it!’ was all over you, making you hyperaware of how you moved around jungwon. you sneaked glances his way from time to time– at the way the setting sun softened his features, at the way he seemed relaxed right now by your side. you wondered if that was because of you, or that was just how he always carried himself.
“why are you staring?” you heard him ask, breaking the silence.
your head flicked forward, cheeks burning once again. “i’m not!”
“sure,” he drawled, sending you a knowing chuckle.
by the time you reached your dorm, your heart was practically hammering in your chest. as you unlocked the gate, you hesitated, turning back to him. he was standing there with his hands in his pockets again, looking at you with a fond expression.
“thanks for walking me back,” you told him quietly, voice softer than what you were used to when you talked to him.
“anytime,” he replied, and the warmth in his voice sent another wave of flutters through your chest.
as he finally walked away, you entered your dorm quickly, leaning against the door and clutching your heart. your thoughts may be a whirlwind right now, but one thing was clear at least: jungwon wasn’t just being nice to you, or being a responsible model student. he was something more– and you were finally starting to notice.
you were completely screwed.
“you’re finally graduated from being an oblivious idiot.” sunoo snickered beside you as the two of you were heading to the library to talk about your recent realizations. “that’s one less problem to deal with for me.”
“what do you even mean by that?” you grumbled, feet slightly stomping in frustration. you were having a crisis for now being able to look at jungwon in a different, romantic light, yet here was your bestfriend, not being a decent emotional support system.
sunoo shrugged, giving you a side-eye. “i’m just saying. it’s hard juggling between two idiots who obviously like each other. at least i can complain about being the one stuck in the middle now,” he said with a laugh, slapping your arm lightly. you rubbed at the spot, feigning pain, to which he only rolled his eyes. you both were dramatic, and he knew when you were acting.
“hey!”
speaking of the devil.
jungwon appeared out of nowhere, his usual confident stride bringing him right into your path. his smile visibly widened as he caught your eye, and you could hear sunoo muttering something about lovesick puppies under his breath. it was your turn to punch him lightly, and you smirked at him when he winced and let out a whine.
“look who decided to stop jogging around campus like a lost puppy,” jungwon said, stopping in front of the two of you, making you halt as well.
normally, you would fire back at him without missing a beat– that was the kind of relationship you had with him until last weekend when all your realizations dawned upon you like some answer to a hard math problem. now, the words simply got caught in your throat. you just gave him a tight-lipped smile and looked away, suddenly finding the cracks in the sidewalk far more interesting than anything else.
jungwon didn’t reply for a second, probably taken aback. “no comeback? you feeling good?”
sunoo glanced between the two of you, the side of his lips quirking upwards in amusement. his arm shot out to give jungwon a pat on the shoulder. “she’s been acting weird lately. don’t take it personally, lover boy.”
“sunoo!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.
jungwon raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what your common friend had said, but he thankfully didn’t pry. “alright,” he said slowly, tone playful and filled with curiosity. “see you around.”
as he walked away, your eyes followed his figure, sadness pooling in them as the distance became greater.
sunoo leaned in close, and you could practically feel the smirk on his face. “you’re so obvious, it’s hurting the skin on my face.”
unfortunately for you, and confusingly for jungwon, the same interaction would keep repeating between the two of you.
it wasn’t intentional for you, but every time jungwon tried to initiate one of your usual banters, you always froze on the spot. your words would tragically fail you, and instead of a witty quip he was visibly expecting, you’d mumble something awkward and look away, leaving him puzzled.
your brain was screaming at you to act normal around him, but to no avail. you so wanted to playfully argue with him like you always did, but now, every time you saw his perfect face, you couldn’t help but have flashbacks about the way he held you back then when you broke down, or how his eyes now evidently lingered on you as if you were the only person in the world.
did jungwon actually like you that much? was this mutual?
the possibility of the answers being yes was both thrilling and terrifying for you. it made you extra conscious of yourself whenever he was around and whenever he spoke to you. the feelings stirring within you were unfamiliar and overwhelming, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face them yet.
and obviously, you would avoid any confrontation and interaction with jungwon.
unfortunately, your frenemy wasn’t the type to let things slide so easily. even basing alone on how much he cared for you, you should’ve known that and shouldn’t have retreated cowardly like you were doing now. every time you awkwardly replied to his jokes or gave him stiff, one-word responses, there would be a flicker of confusion and, dare you say, hurt in his eyes. he never pushed though, which somehow made it worse.
later that week, you found yourself at a party you hadn’t even wanted to attend. sunoo had dragged you along, insisting that it would take your mind off things for a night.
well, he was wrong.
nothing was working– not the alcohol, nor the loud music blasting all over the walls of park jongseong’s enormous house.
not when jungwon was there too, mingling effortlessly with the crowd.
you tried to keep your distance, moving to other rooms when you could see him inch closer to you, but of course, he found you anyway. he always did.
“you’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, tone light but eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. he leaned against the kitchen counter beside you, looking hot in his casual polo shirt and trousers.
“i haven’t,” you lied through your teeth, sipping your drink to avoid his faze.
“oh, really? by the way, you’re look like you’re trying to hard to melt into background right now.”
you groaned inwardly, willing yourself to say something witty, but all you could give him was a weak shrug.
jungwon tilted his head, his expression now concerned. he rested a hand on your shoulder, making your poor heart stutter. “is something wrong?” he asked softly, stepping closer to you.
the genuine worry in his voice made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. before you could embarrass yourself further, you decided to mumble an incomprehensible excuse before slipping quickly out the back door. you jogged, desperate to get out of the suffocating atmosphere of the party.
you were halfway down the street when you heard heavy footsteps behind you.
“hey!” jungwon called out, running to catch up. “what is going on with you?”
“nothing!” you said quickly, refusing to even turn around.
jungwon, unfortunately for you, was also built like an athlete. it was no problem for him to run ahead and step in front of you, blocking your path. he looked at you with frustration knitting his eyebrows together. he held you by the shoulders, and you could feel his breath fan against your face. “don’t give me that, y/n. you’ve been weird all week, and now you’re literally running away from me. talk to me.”
you looked down, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t meet his stare. several feelings were clouding your mind and your heart, and you didn’t even know where to begin with your explanation. but mostly, you felt like a jerk for treating him the way you did the past week.
you hesitated, hands clenching at your sides. “i’m just… confused, okay? about everything. about you.”
you looked up and saw him blink in surprise. his expression softened, and you felt a bit relieved that he had let go of the frustration that crumpled his pretty face.
“me…?’
“yes, you,” you snapped more at yourself than at him, but it startled him nonetheless. “you’re always doing these things for me, and it’s been messing with my head because i don’t know what it means, if you like me or i’m just being assuming, or-”
“it’s because i like you,” he said, cutting you off.
you froze, his confession hanging in the air.
“...what?” you whispered, voice barely audible.
“i like you,” jungwon repeated with a soft smile. his tone was steady, but there was a slight flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “i have for a while now.”
your heart pounded so hard against your chest, you were scared he could hear it.
“why didn’t you just… tell me?”
“because i didn’t think you felt the same way,” he told you, pursing his lips for a second. “until recently, anyway. you’ve been acting differently too.”
you stared at him, everything finally clicking as you see the hope and sincerity in his eyes. sunoo was right– jungwon liked you romantically, and you were the dense idiot.
without thinking, you took a step closer closing the distance between you. “i think i like you too… that’s why i’ve been acting all weird.”
jungwon smiled widely then. “yeah?” he said, tone becoming more playful again.
“yeah,” you said with a laugh, the tension and fear finally going away.
jungwon joined in, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek softly. “took you long enough.”
and when he leaned in, the world around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you and the quiet hum of something you’d been too blind to see for far too long.
images except the dividers belong to respective creators; found in pinterest. key words used: "school parking lot aesthetic" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/vargasshaury/]; "jungwon university" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/wonwhiskers/]; "college aesthetic" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/hHAmDe4Zev/]
pairing: non-idol!scpresident!jungwon x unistudent!reader
summary: when you finally realize the student council president’s genuine affection for you, you’re strewn into a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected emotions, caught between the playful banter you once shared and the deeper feelings making themselves known to you. what seemed like ordinary interactions suddenly take on new meanings, leaving you questioning everything you thought you knew about him and yourself.
contains/warnings: college!au, fluff, frenemies to lovers trope, fem reader but could be gn reader too, mature language/tone, mentions of societal pressures. let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 5.7k
author's notes: this is, in fact, still inspired by the book better than the movies now that i have actually finished reading it lmao
"fuck," you muttered after finally slotting in your car in the staff parking lot, yanking the handbrake then gathering your things in your arms. you were already ten minutes late for your 8 am class, and there was no way you were going to waste any more time circling around the campus for a free spot. mrs. anderson was not a nice professor to those who abused the 15-minute grace period, especially that she only had a little over an hour for lecture.
you jumped out of your car, only to be met with a familiar face, raising a judgmental eyebrow at you. you groaned out loud, to which yang jungwon chuckled, obviously amused. it seemed that you always found a way to be entertaining for the university student council president.
jungwon crossed his arm and shook his head, clicking his tongue in the process in a teasing yet reprimanding way. "breaking rules this early in the morning?" he glanced at your car. "you're always so bold."
you slung your bag on your shoulders and moved to get past him. jungwon stepped to the side to block you, earning him another groan of frustration from you.
“dude, seriously, no one would notice. it’s just gonna be an hour then i’ll take it out.” you glanced impulsively at your watch, and panic started to settle in more. you had no time to argue with jungwon right now. later, maybe.
jungwon smirked as he noticed the worry on your face. “fine. but you owe me one because i’m gonna stick out my neck for you for this.”
you then ran past him, mindlessly calling out a ‘thanks!’ before disappearing into your building.
you would worry about your unfortunate debt to jungwon later. somehow, it always managed to fix itself anyway. this wasn’t the first time he had done something solid for you, and you were lucky you were still on his good side. you just didn’t understand how though, because it was common knowledge in the campus that jungwon was the most serious student council president the university had.
“i’ll just thank whatever god is looking out for me, then,” you muttered, walking into the lecture hall with one minute to spare.
“hey, there you are,” you called out to sunoo. you just came back from moving your car to the student’s parking spaces, and he had kindly gotten you your meal ahead of time. he knew you well enough that you wouldn’t have the patience to stand in line that morning after how a while ago went down.
sunoo beamed at you brightly, pushing the tray with your breakfast across where you would be seated. you plopped down on the chair, taking your wallet out and handing him some cash for the payment.
“you look horrible,” he commented before proceeding to eat his mint choco ice cream. in contrast to you, he had his life together and had a proper meal before going to uni, so he had the privilege to have a cold snack that early. “you should seriously get some rest.”
you sighed, taking the chopsticks and spoon. “i would love to, but i’m pressed for time. i really need all the subjects i got this semester,” you told him, then took a spoonful of rice in.
you had taken a leave of absence last semester due to a health emergency, which made you delayed out of your own will. even though things were changing and society values graduating on time a little less, your guardians, unfortunately, hadn’t evolved with it yet. there was pressure within the family to finish studies quickly and in a linear fashion, and meeting anything less than that expectation would guarantee backhanded comments and disappointment. you literally had no choice when you were afflicted with sickness, but if your traditional family said so, you’d ultimately have to go with what they say.
sunoo shrugged, giving you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“anyway, has jungwon told you what he wanted in exchange for this morning?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
you rolled your eyes at him, but you were slightly used to it when he teased you like that. you didn’t know where it was coming from, but somehow, sunoo thought that jungwon, the no-nonsense student council officer, was interested in you. “no,” was all you replied with, eyeing him pointedly.
sunoo let out a laugh before stuffing his face with his snack. “i’m telling you,” he said in-between spoonfuls, “he likes you. this is the third time he’s let you get away with parking violations. he’ll probably tell you it’s all good too, like he always has.”
your eyebrows knit in confusion. “what? be for real, sunoo.”
it was his turn to roll his eyes at you, waving his utensil in the air. “you be for real. jungwon always lets you off the hook. exhibit a: he caught you bringing in a flavored beer last week, but he only laughed at you and said ‘be careful.’” sunoo looked at you expectantly for a response. he exhaled in frustration when you simply blinked at him, then continued, “exhibit b: he defended you when you disrespected the school registrar, and was the one who took the heat even though you were totally in line for disciplinary action ‘cos you called her an old fart.”
he threw up his hand in exasperation when he was only met with silence. “dude! if those were any other people, he wouldn’t even bat an eye, and worse, he’d let the admin know!” he smiled at you like he had won a competition, but you weren’t even participating in the first place.
“you’re delusional,” you finally said, choosing to focus on your food.
he let out a snicker, standing up to throw his empty ice cream container. you stuck out your tongue at your bestfriend, and he only laughed at you.
“i may be delusional, but you’re the one in denial here.”
your laptop’s fan was vibrating quite loudly now, but you couldn’t care much about that for now. it was currently the middle of the semester, and you had four report outlines to submit by friday and 1 presentation tomorrow cap this week off.
it was thursday night already.
you were a good student, and you didn’t cram as much as possible. but with all courses you enlisted, you were going to end up doing it one way or another. because you had two exams earlier last tuesday, that left you only tonight until tomorrow at 9 am to finish a comprehensive report presentation. you swore that you were on the verge of getting hospitalized, but maybe finishing this could miraculously heal you.
with papers, writing materials, and gadgets scattered in front of you, you simply kept typing away and scanning through your references, molding the perfect script and slideshow without regard for your grumbling stomach. you may be getting judging looks from the baristas of the cafe for staying overnight in exchange for a single plastic cup of coffee, but there was no time to feel shame.
“y/n??”
you paused, caught off-guard that someone had called out your name when you had specifically chosen a small, lesser-known cafe to do this requirement. much more bewildering, it was already 3 am. who could it possibly be that this coincidence had happened?
you looked up from the screen, and your eyes widened slightly at the sight of sunoo and jungwon walking towards the table you had colonized. sunoo seemed to be genuinely surprised, while the guy beside him was already giving you his trademark smirk.
“look who’s being a responsible student,” he teased with a chuckle, sliding into the seat in front of you. sunoo followed suit, a familiar glint twinkling in his eyes.
“ugh, what are you knuckleheads doing here?” you rhetorically asked, finally getting back to your work. “don’t answer that. i’m too busy to know.”
you saw jungwon put a hand over his chest through peripheral vision, acting like your words had hurt him. “i’m just complimenting you.”
“yeah, right.”
“for real,” he said with a laugh. “such a sight to see.”
sunoo cleared his throat. “so… didn’t know you were here. are you okay?” he asked, thankfully interrupting your banter. if he didn’t, you would have totally forgotten your report and argued with jungwon until daylight.
“i’m swamped,” you replied, closing your eyes for a second because of how dry they felt. you had been staring at your bright screen for hours now that even one of the staff had told you to go home and rest a little while ago. you could only refuse then thank them awkwardly, before ordering another small cup of coffee out of pressure and shame. “i only have til 8 or 9 to finish this.”
“have you even eaten?” jungwon cut in, putting his hand to cover the screen. your eyes shot up at him, glaring and attempting to swat it away. he only clicked his tongue in reprimand, taking the laptop and moving it so that it was facing him.
“hey, stop messing around!”
jungwon held a hand over your mouth, effectively shushing you. you leaned back in surprise at the contact, and continued to glare at him.
“stay put and wait,” he instructed seriously, suddenly making you feel small.
you watched as jungwon gestured for sunoo to move aside, and he got out of his seat and walked to the counter. he ordered a couple of things and waited for them to arrive. in a few minutes, he was already going back to your table, carrying a tray of pasta and a warm glass of water. he placed them in front of you. with his eyes, he was firmly telling you to eat or else you wouldn’t be getting your laptop back.
you and him had a staring contest. you couldn’t believe that he was actually making you do this. all that was in your head was your deadline, and that you had to practice reporting this in class. when he seemed like he wasn’t going to budge, a resigned breath escaped your lips, and you picked up the utensils to eat.
“so you do listen,” jungwon remarked, pulling a chair so that he was now sitting by your side. he sat down, watching you like some overly strict parent forcing their kid to finish their meal (which was not good, by the way).
“only because i’m hungry,” you shot back.
“oh please, you think i’m god-sent.”
“no, you actually came from hell.”
“hellishly handsome and kind, true.”
a cough interrupted yet again the two of you, and you both looked at the culprit. sunoo sent the both of you a knowing smile, and the two of you suddenly became quiet, with you just chomping down on your food. your bestfriend shook his head with a smile. “you’re impossible.”
jungwon cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the table. “i can help you out. i’m free anyway.”
sunoo’s eyebrows shot up, obviously stunned. “but didn’t you just say-”
the other lad glared at him, and he quickly kept quiet. a small smile did play on his lips though, and you raised an eyebrow at them, suspicious.
you turned towards jungwon. “why are you being nice? are you adding this to the list of debts i already have? no thanks.”
he crossed his arms, leaning back on the chair. “relax. i just wanna help.”
you stared at him for a while. it was an odd offer because jungwon could definitely just leave you alone, making the most of the hours left before his first class with sleep. you didn’t know what was in it for him either, when, as far as you knew, you were sort of frenemies. true, he did help you out a lot of times, but those were nothing like this– a literal presentation.
he looked at you expectantly, and if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, he actually had a nervous expression all over his face. you cocked your head to the side, still clearly confused, but then, you nodded slowly, accepting the assistance he was extending. “okay then…”
jungwon smiled and let out the breath that he looked like he was holding in. “great.” he grabbed the laptop and moved it in front of him again. “you sit tight and rest. you can check what i did in a while,” he said, stretching his arms before typing.
you gave him a strange look, which he probably didn’t notice, then sent another look towards sunoo, who was smirking. you rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue at him.
“i’ll take my leave then,” sunoo suddenly announced, standing up abruptly.
you expected jungwon to protest and force him to hang around, but he stayed mute and focused on whatever he was constructing in your laptop. your mouth opened partly in disbelief, and you could only send a nod in acknowledgement.
sunoo winked at you one last time before leaving you alone with his friend.
you had no idea what to think of this situation, but it seemed like jungwon was really doing his part. you didn’t doubt whatever he came up with either, because the subject was a general education subject that any major could take, and that he was the student council president. people didn’t become a member of the student council, much less be the president, if they didn’t have enough academic credentials for it. you were pretty sure he was running for the valedictorian honors for your batch.
“thanks. this is really nice of you,” you murmured, cupping your coffee and glueing your gaze towards it.
you waited for the sarcastic reply, but it never came. instead, jungwon had given you a soft smile, telling you, “it’s nothing,” and then continuing with finishing up your work. a strange feeling churned in your stomach at that, but you put it off, opening the docs in your tablet instead to distract yourself through practicing.
“no, no, no, no,” you muttered repeatedly, panic multiplying as you parked once again in a professor’s slot the following morning.
jungwon had gotten you two more hours of rest than you initially predicted, and you had decided to relax after wrapping it up with him back in the cafe at 6 am. because you felt complacent, you figured you could spend those two hours haphazardly, leading you to input the wrong hour in your phone’s alarm clock. you were on the verge of tears, trying to salvage your day, but you knew it was impossible– you were already 45 minutes behind.
“didn’t i just get you out of trouble for this?”
you looked up, eyesight blurred by the wetness in your eyes, but you recognized the voice to be jungwon’s.
“woah, what’s wrong?” the tone in his voice immediately noticed probably when he noticed how you were literally about to breakdown.
you dropped to the ground, scattering your things around you, and buried your face into yours hands. big, ugly sobs racked your body, as you tried to form any coherent reply, but only a jumble of syllables made their way to jungwon’s ears.
“wasted your effort…” you somehow spoke in-between cries. “late to reporting…”
a strong hold suddenly enveloped you, and you could feel his chin resting on your head, and his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. you could hear the faint shushing sounds he was making, trying to calm you down from your violent breakdown. you couldn’t concentrate on anything else except the fact that you had probably been failed by the professor for this requirement, and that there was a faint stinging feeling on your knees, likely due to your fall.
“calm down,” jungwon’s voice broke through for a moment, “don’t worry. we can fix this.”
you continued to sob, but you did let him guide you up. despite not seeing anything, you followed his lead, walking to wherever he was taking you while you were there crying as quietly as you could. he didn’t stop whispering encouraging words to you, for which you were thankful. though they only slightly made sense, hearing his voice was grounding you and helping you calm down little by little.
“stay here, i’ll be back,” was the last thing you could make out from your sniffles and whimpers before you crumpled yourself into a small ball, bringing your knees to your chest.
when a long while had passed, you had finally stopped crying and squinted at your surroundings. you were in an unfamiliar room that was filled with bookshelves, electronic equipment, and many tables. you saw your bag by your feet, with all the things you let go shoved in it.
as if right on time, the door gently swung open to reveal yang jungwon. he gave you a small smile, probably relieved that you were done with the hysterical crying. the embarrassment was slowly starting to sink in, making you fixate your line of sight to the floor.
“how’re you feeling?” you heard him ask then saw the chair beside you shift. “better?”
you took a glimpse of him before looking down again. “yeah,” you mumbled. “still a bit shitty cos i know i failed it though.”
“hey.” a hand appeared in front of you, holding your chin and making you look up. you met his gaze, small smile still on his lips. “it’s okay now. talked to your professor and told him you had a medical emergency. you’re set to report next week, so you should just rest for now.”
your eyes widened at his news, a smile of your own breaking out. “no way…”
jungwon chuckled and pinched your cheek lightly. “yes way.” he leaned back, retracting his hand, which made you feel slightly disappointed for some reason. “texted sunoo too. he’ll get your car and drive you back to your dorm. i’d do that, but i have a meeting in a while.” he tilted his head to the side, eyes still fixated on you. “just wanted to make sure you’re alright before i leave.”
you pursed your lips, unsure of how to react right now. “yeah, i am. thank you, really, jungwon.”
he let out a small laugh, and your insides started flipping the way they did back at the cafe earlier that morning. “i’m not student council president for nothing.”
you blinked a couple of times, thinking about what he said, then what sunoo had been teasing you with. was he student council president just to help you? because you were sure as hell that there were no known cases of him doing this for others. how did he even know which room to go to? did he actually pay special attention to you like sunoo had been hounding you about?
“...go ahead then.”
your head snapped up, and he was giving you that playful smile– only now, it seemed laced with fondness as well. you didn’t know if you were just overthinking things or not.
“sure, thanks,” you muttered, nodding a couple of times. “i’ll wait for sunoo too then.”
with that, yang jungwon left you alone in where you presumed to be was the student council’s room. you stayed frozen in your seat, giving the events of today more thought than usual.
if you were to give in to your brain, jungwon had never treated anyone else the way he treated you, whether as a normal person or as the student council president.
sure, you had seen him help other students before– it was technically his job. he would be around the campus answering fershmen’s questions, organizing study groups, or resolving conflicts. but anything like this? going out of his way to cover for you with a professor, making sure you got another chance, and arranging for your bestfriend to take care of you when he couldn’t? was that just being helpful too?
you bit your lip, recalling all the little things jungwon had done for you all this time. if back then, you thought of those as just his general tendency to be a kind and responsible frenemy, you certainly didn’t think that anymore. who would stay behind to help with a requirement that didn’t involve him, especially at the break of dawn? what kind of student council officer would let you get away for things that immediately warranted verbal and written warnings? sunoo’s teasing words then floated back into your mind: ‘you do realize he doesn’t do this for anyone else, right?’
your heart continued throbbing at that thought. no way. there was no way that yang jungwon, the ideal, basically perfect human that he was, had been giving you special treatment… right?
you leaned back in your chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, but the heat in your face said everything. “oh no,” you whispered to yourself, “sunoo might actually be right.”
the faint sound of a knock at the door broke you from your spiraling thoughts, and you sat up properly to see sunoo peeking in.
“ready?” he asked, the usual mischievous grin plastered on his face.
“yeah…” was what you told him, but if he was actually asking about jungwon, then your answer would have been completely different.
that weekend, you went out for several jogs to clear your mind, but with the serenity of your route, your rumination only became worse.
sunoo’s voice kept echoing in your head, as persistent as ever. when he drove you back to your dorm last friday, he had been going on and on about how jungwon was head over heels for you and how he would never do this for just anyone. and that you were an idiot.
each step against the pavement seemed to pop out a new memory of jungwon in your mind– how he always seemed to notice the small things about you, how his teasing was never truly mean-spirited, and how he always seemed to be there at the exact moment you needed help. heck
you shook your head as you turned a corner, trying to focus on actually clearing your head from jungwon-related thoughts, but as if the universe had a sense of humor, you spotted the very man your mind had been obsessed over for a couple of days now. jungwon was at a student parking lot, standing by the bike racks and kneeling down. you slowed your pace without thinking to see that he was adjusting the chain on a student’s bike. you watched as he gave the bike a quick test ride to make sure it was working properly again before handing it back to the grateful owner.
your chest tightened as you saw the kind smile on his face. that certainly made a mess of your mind and heart again. he could’ve just ignored the poor guy, didn’t have to help, but he still did. just like how he acted to you. only you knew how he helped you and how he helped others were completely different.
“are you stalking me, l/n?”
you snapped out of your thoughts, feeling like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped all over you. it was too late– jungwon had already spotted you. he was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, with the same teasing grin on his face.
“i’m not stalking you,” you defensively blurted out. you cleared your throat, surprised by how your voice came out higher than usual. “i’m just… jogging. you happened to be around my route. haha.”
“sure,” he called out, walking towards you. “i was the one who ended up here, where you were. total coincidence, right?”
you rolled your eyes, but you were sure that your face was already hot red. “don’t flatter yourself.”
“alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up. “you heading back then?”
“yeah…”
“i’ll walk you,” he offered casually, falling into step beside you before you could protest.
it was a quiet walk, and you didn’t know whether it was a comfortable silence or not. the image of sunoo screaming ‘i knew it!’ was all over you, making you hyperaware of how you moved around jungwon. you sneaked glances his way from time to time– at the way the setting sun softened his features, at the way he seemed relaxed right now by your side. you wondered if that was because of you, or that was just how he always carried himself.
“why are you staring?” you heard him ask, breaking the silence.
your head flicked forward, cheeks burning once again. “i’m not!”
“sure,” he drawled, sending you a knowing chuckle.
by the time you reached your dorm, your heart was practically hammering in your chest. as you unlocked the gate, you hesitated, turning back to him. he was standing there with his hands in his pockets again, looking at you with a fond expression.
“thanks for walking me back,” you told him quietly, voice softer than what you were used to when you talked to him.
“anytime,” he replied, and the warmth in his voice sent another wave of flutters through your chest.
as he finally walked away, you entered your dorm quickly, leaning against the door and clutching your heart. your thoughts may be a whirlwind right now, but one thing was clear at least: jungwon wasn’t just being nice to you, or being a responsible model student. he was something more– and you were finally starting to notice.
you were completely screwed.
“you’re finally graduated from being an oblivious idiot.” sunoo snickered beside you as the two of you were heading to the library to talk about your recent realizations. “that’s one less problem to deal with for me.”
“what do you even mean by that?” you grumbled, feet slightly stomping in frustration. you were having a crisis for now being able to look at jungwon in a different, romantic light, yet here was your bestfriend, not being a decent emotional support system.
sunoo shrugged, giving you a side-eye. “i’m just saying. it’s hard juggling between two idiots who obviously like each other. at least i can complain about being the one stuck in the middle now,” he said with a laugh, slapping your arm lightly. you rubbed at the spot, feigning pain, to which he only rolled his eyes. you both were dramatic, and he knew when you were acting.
“hey!”
speaking of the devil.
jungwon appeared out of nowhere, his usual confident stride bringing him right into your path. his smile visibly widened as he caught your eye, and you could hear sunoo muttering something about lovesick puppies under his breath. it was your turn to punch him lightly, and you smirked at him when he winced and let out a whine.
“look who decided to stop jogging around campus like a lost puppy,” jungwon said, stopping in front of the two of you, making you halt as well.
normally, you would fire back at him without missing a beat– that was the kind of relationship you had with him until last weekend when all your realizations dawned upon you like some answer to a hard math problem. now, the words simply got caught in your throat. you just gave him a tight-lipped smile and looked away, suddenly finding the cracks in the sidewalk far more interesting than anything else.
jungwon didn’t reply for a second, probably taken aback. “no comeback? you feeling good?”
sunoo glanced between the two of you, the side of his lips quirking upwards in amusement. his arm shot out to give jungwon a pat on the shoulder. “she’s been acting weird lately. don’t take it personally, lover boy.”
“sunoo!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.
jungwon raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what your common friend had said, but he thankfully didn’t pry. “alright,” he said slowly, tone playful and filled with curiosity. “see you around.”
as he walked away, your eyes followed his figure, sadness pooling in them as the distance became greater.
sunoo leaned in close, and you could practically feel the smirk on his face. “you’re so obvious, it’s hurting the skin on my face.”
unfortunately for you, and confusingly for jungwon, the same interaction would keep repeating between the two of you.
it wasn’t intentional for you, but every time jungwon tried to initiate one of your usual banters, you always froze on the spot. your words would tragically fail you, and instead of a witty quip he was visibly expecting, you’d mumble something awkward and look away, leaving him puzzled.
your brain was screaming at you to act normal around him, but to no avail. you so wanted to playfully argue with him like you always did, but now, every time you saw his perfect face, you couldn’t help but have flashbacks about the way he held you back then when you broke down, or how his eyes now evidently lingered on you as if you were the only person in the world.
did jungwon actually like you that much? was this mutual?
the possibility of the answers being yes was both thrilling and terrifying for you. it made you extra conscious of yourself whenever he was around and whenever he spoke to you. the feelings stirring within you were unfamiliar and overwhelming, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face them yet.
and obviously, you would avoid any confrontation and interaction with jungwon.
unfortunately, your frenemy wasn’t the type to let things slide so easily. even basing alone on how much he cared for you, you should’ve known that and shouldn’t have retreated cowardly like you were doing now. every time you awkwardly replied to his jokes or gave him stiff, one-word responses, there would be a flicker of confusion and, dare you say, hurt in his eyes. he never pushed though, which somehow made it worse.
later that week, you found yourself at a party you hadn’t even wanted to attend. sunoo had dragged you along, insisting that it would take your mind off things for a night.
well, he was wrong.
nothing was working– not the alcohol, nor the loud music blasting all over the walls of park jongseong’s enormous house.
not when jungwon was there too, mingling effortlessly with the crowd.
you tried to keep your distance, moving to other rooms when you could see him inch closer to you, but of course, he found you anyway. he always did.
“you’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, tone light but eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. he leaned against the kitchen counter beside you, looking hot in his casual polo shirt and trousers.
“i haven’t,” you lied through your teeth, sipping your drink to avoid his faze.
“oh, really? by the way, you’re look like you’re trying to hard to melt into background right now.”
you groaned inwardly, willing yourself to say something witty, but all you could give him was a weak shrug.
jungwon tilted his head, his expression now concerned. he rested a hand on your shoulder, making your poor heart stutter. “is something wrong?” he asked softly, stepping closer to you.
the genuine worry in his voice made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. before you could embarrass yourself further, you decided to mumble an incomprehensible excuse before slipping quickly out the back door. you jogged, desperate to get out of the suffocating atmosphere of the party.
you were halfway down the street when you heard heavy footsteps behind you.
“hey!” jungwon called out, running to catch up. “what is going on with you?”
“nothing!” you said quickly, refusing to even turn around.
jungwon, unfortunately for you, was also built like an athlete. it was no problem for him to run ahead and step in front of you, blocking your path. he looked at you with frustration knitting his eyebrows together. he held you by the shoulders, and you could feel his breath fan against your face. “don’t give me that, y/n. you’ve been weird all week, and now you’re literally running away from me. talk to me.”
you looked down, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t meet his stare. several feelings were clouding your mind and your heart, and you didn’t even know where to begin with your explanation. but mostly, you felt like a jerk for treating him the way you did the past week.
you hesitated, hands clenching at your sides. “i’m just… confused, okay? about everything. about you.”
you looked up and saw him blink in surprise. his expression softened, and you felt a bit relieved that he had let go of the frustration that crumpled his pretty face.
“me…?’
“yes, you,” you snapped more at yourself than at him, but it startled him nonetheless. “you’re always doing these things for me, and it’s been messing with my head because i don’t know what it means, if you like me or i’m just being assuming, or-”
“it’s because i like you,” he said, cutting you off.
you froze, his confession hanging in the air.
“...what?” you whispered, voice barely audible.
“i like you,” jungwon repeated with a soft smile. his tone was steady, but there was a slight flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “i have for a while now.”
your heart pounded so hard against your chest, you were scared he could hear it.
“why didn’t you just… tell me?”
“because i didn’t think you felt the same way,” he told you, pursing his lips for a second. “until recently, anyway. you’ve been acting differently too.”
you stared at him, everything finally clicking as you see the hope and sincerity in his eyes. sunoo was right– jungwon liked you romantically, and you were the dense idiot.
without thinking, you took a step closer closing the distance between you. “i think i like you too… that’s why i’ve been acting all weird.”
jungwon smiled widely then. “yeah?” he said, tone becoming more playful again.
“yeah,” you said with a laugh, the tension and fear finally going away.
jungwon joined in, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek softly. “took you long enough.”
and when he leaned in, the world around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you and the quiet hum of something you’d been too blind to see for far too long.
images except the dividers belong to respective creators; found in pinterest. key words used: "school parking lot aesthetic" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/vargasshaury/]; "jungwon university" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/wonwhiskers/]; "college aesthetic" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/hHAmDe4Zev/]
pairing: non-idol!unistudent!hockeyplayer!jake x unistudent!reader
summary: a fake dating agreement turns unexpectedly real as you and jake, your childhood rival, navigate your growing feelings.
contains/warnings: college!au, fluff, fake dating and rivals/enemies-to-lovers trope enemies to lovers, gn reader, le sserafim and txt members as friends, mature language/tone. let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 4.8k
author's notes: i was too excited to post this bc i felt that my old writing (but sort of better) was coming back HAHA this feels a bit rushed ngl but i'll continue improving my writing iggg
disclaimer: this was inspired by the general plot of the book better than the movies but i haven't finished reading it HAHA
if you were to spend your last days with anyone on this earth, you would definitely rank sim jaeyun last. he was insufferable and always scheming, and on top of that, he was the most competitive person you had ever met that he made rivals out of the two of you when you weren’t looking for one in the first place. be it academics or the social hierarchy, he would be hovering around you, trying to one up you in whatever activity he had locked in on.
so it probably made perfect sense for you to challenge him that he couldn’t possibly make anyone believe you were dating, because you knew he would already be giving you that cheshire grin like you had just handed him his next victory on a silver platter.
you’ve known jake since childhood, and the only time you remembered you got along was the day you met when his family moved into the neighborhood. you had just gotten into a fight with one of your friends, and you found yourself running to the empty lot next to their newly-bought house. you were under the tree, bawling your eyes out because your little brain couldn’t comprehend the complexity of friendships at the young age of nine. how could your self-proclaimed bestfriend declare that your friendship was over?!
you didn’t notice the new boy sneaking up to you and watching you cry hard. when you had finally noticed him, you cried even harder, exclaiming that a kid was staring at you creepily.
“hey, hey!” he crouched down and held you lightly by your shoulders, panic strewn over his entire face. he certainly did not want to be labeled the creepy kid so early on in their residence here. “it’s okay. what’s wrong? why’re you crying?”
you looked up at him, face all blotchy and tear-stricken. “stacy doesn’t wanna be my friend anymore!” you wailed, covering your face at once when you had seen the side of his lip twitch upward. “don’t laugh!”
jake coughed, trying to cover up his laughter. he then whistled and called out the name layla. in just a few seconds, a cream-colored dog was bounding towards the two of you, tongue stuck out happily as soon as it heard its owner call.
“here, why don’t you play with layla a bit? she always cheers me up when i’m sad,” the boy told you, urging his dog to walk forward.
you watched as layla sniff your toes then push her snout to snuggle into you. she looked up at you with big gleeful eyes, mouth open in a way that it looked like she was smiling. your eyebrows still wiggled as you sobbed, but you calmed down little by little with the dog by your side. you then searched for jake’s eyes, and dang did this stranger had pretty eyes and lips. he was smiling kindly at you, muttering something about his precious dog, but you had long tuned him out as you stared as his face, grateful for him
that was the last time you felt grateful towards jake. now, that single good memory that could’ve blossomed into a tight friendship was just stuck in a corner in your mind, only let out when you felt like reminiscing about your childhood. the jake you knew at that moment was incredibly different from the present jake, who was now a famous hockey player for your unfortunately same university. he was different from that nine-year-old jake even before college. for some reason, the kind jake turned into a competitive jerk who liked getting you into trouble and roping you into annoying pranks that wasted your time. he had become the bane of your existence, and you didn’t even know how that happened.
it was supposed to be an uneventful day today for you.
it was a friday, which meant you could catch a break from academic and social life, letting your friends go out to whatever club they wanted to go to, while you slouch around in your apartment and sleep in. you honestly had no idea where they got their energy from when they were in the same program as you were and exams were pouring from the department’s professors.
all five of you and your friends were walking towards the physics department that afternoon even when you had already expressed apprehension of being in that area. you never admitted your reciprocated beef and rivalry with jake to them, so it was understandable that they pushed through with the plan. you were only going with your friends because they made a reasonable point: the physics cafeteria barely had people around this time compared to other buildings’ cafeterias. you hoped to god that he was in the middle of class so you wouldn’t have to see his stupid pretty face.
“you joinin’ us later, bae?” yunjin asked you once you all had settled down with your food trays at a long table.
you rolled your eyes, picking up a french fry and popping it into your mouth. “i already told you guys no, yunjin. don’t you all have 3 days worth of sleep to catch up on like me?” you looked at them incredulously when they all shook their heads with mischievous grins.
beomgyu waved his chopsticks around. “you’ve been off your hoe phase for a long while now. when are you ever gonna get a partner at this point?” he said, scrunching his nose.
“whatever.”
“talking about y/n and their hoe phase?” you all whipped your head to see heejin with a couple of her “minions” by her side.
oh, you’d know if it was her voice, alright. everybody knew a lee heejin in their department: the snobby upperclassman who felt like the university was a monarchy and they were the revered monarch. they then cried whenever they don’t get enough attention. you seriously didn’t understand how these kinds of people existed, but they were there, existing, anyway.
you raised an eyebrow at her, hoping to sass her out. it at least intimidated one of her little sidekicks as he looked away out of consciousness. “what now?”
she chuckled, making eye contact with your friend group. she wasn’t afraid to approach them because you knew she deemed them just beneath her in the social hierarchy in the university. even if your friends had fairly good reputations, lee heejin was some influencer who thought she had the same power over you as she did over her influencees.
“you can have all the hoe phases you want to have, but you know you’re never gonna have a real lasting relationship with anyone,” she snarkily told you. “you basically have bad luck in love.”
you tried to hide the wince in your eye to make it seem like the comment didn’t hit a nerve. but on the inside, it did. heejin was at least right in one thing there because you never had a known relationship that lasted for more than two months. it was mostly a them problem, but her words suddenly started getting to you, making you overthink if you were the problem all along.
“who says she sucks in dating?”
everyone turned around to see that jake and his gang had suddenly sprouted out in the vicinity out of nowhere. he was looking at you with that same grin he always had, but something about it made you think back to that day he had called layla over so that they could comfort you about stacy.
“your phrasing isn’t any better sim jaeyun,” you snapped, punching his arm moderately.
jake made a dramatic groan, as if that punch could really hurt a fit athlete like him. besides having an annoyingly handsome face, he was gifted with a pretty well-built body too.
his arm found its way around your shoulders, slung lazily and comfortably. you saw how the muscle under heejin’s eye spasmed slightly at the action, and you pursed your lips to hide a smirk coming on.
the two of them had a history, with jake pursuing her for a couple of weeks until she had given in to the popular hockey player. that actually made their breakup worse— because of the fact that jake, the pursuer, had broken it off with heejin, the pursued. word was that heejin had never really gotten over him despite her acting all nonchalant about what went down just last semester, several months back.
jake tilted his head, resting it lightly on yours after he had smoothly placed himself between you and yeonjun. “how can she be unlucky in love when she has me?”
all of you exclaimed ‘what?!’ with wide eyes, taken aback by what he had just revealed. you made eye contact with him, silently asking what the fuck was going on and what was he on.
“you can’t be serious, jake!” heejin seethed. “even y/n looks as surprised as the rest of us are. you can’t possibly be dating!” she said, and you were scared that she was about to go into one of her infamous bitchy tantrums.
your eyebrows furrowed, searching for answers from jake’s face. you were going to lose it if he was going to involve you in another one of his pranks. to lock your door so that you would be late for your class was one thing— you could handle that— but this? “dating” him? it was too much. he shouldn’t go there because rumors about being with him would only inconvenience in a way that he had never done before.
jake only winked at you after you had subtly mouthed ‘what are you plotting?’ to him. he faced the group again with a grin. “been under the wraps. y/n isn’t big on announcing to the whole world, y’know? but hearing you insult them like that, i just can’t help but defend my love.”
you fought the weird mix of urges to feel flustered, and at the same time, beat up sim jaeyun. if this was some kind of prank, you wanted out.
but seeing the look on lee heejin’s faced seemed priceless at the moment too, after she had basically dissed your endeavors in love. this was actually the perfect comeback at her, and with jake’s defense, you felt quite invincible in the social setting.
“i’m obviously the perfect partner to fix their love life. i’ve always done things better than her,” he said, hinting his challenge for you.
you inhaled deeply, in disbelief that he was making a dare out of something that didn’t concern him in the first place. but you looked around and saw everyone’s expectant faces. you saw awe in your friends’ and jake’s friends’ eyes, and envy from heejin’s. you were determined to shut everyone up and prove jake wrong, so before you knew it, words affirming his claim came tumbling out of your mouth.
“he’s the perfect boyfriend,” you said with emphasis, snaking your arm around his face and squeezing it hard to retaliate. “i’m just not sure about the last part. i know i’m the better partner.”
you stood up, tugging him upwards with you. “excuse us, will you?” you told everyone, smiling sweetly before going to a secluded area, pulling him after you.
“what was that?” you asked him through gritted teeth once you were sure you two were out of earshot. you two were in a vacant classroom, a rare but perfect situation.
he put a hand over his hurt, pretending to be hurt by your aggressiveness. “oh, c’mon, i saved you back there, didn’t i? and you agreed!” he crossed his arms and gave you his trademark smirk he reserved just for annoying you. “you agreed to save face in front of everyone, am i right?”
you closed your mouth, unable to correct him because there was nothing to correct. it was true that you couldn’t handle the embarrassment if you ever told them that jake was just messing with all of you.
“you’ll probably fall for me first, by the time we ‘break up,’” he said with a smile.
“wha- in your dreams!”
the two of you had a stare-off, neither one budging because of your own prides. his was especially big when it came to you, and you understood that there was no way out of this anymore. with a sigh, you conceded to him, slumping against a chair. jake laughed, patting your head, from which you retracted, swatting his hand away in irritation.
“fine, sim jaeyun. let’s do this fake dating thing and see who’s better at this,” you told him, sticking out your tongue. “i already win because there is no way i’m falling for the likes of you.”
jake smiled widely, putting his hand out in front of you. “it’s a deal then.” you shook his hand reluctantly, and his smile only stretched wider.
“deal, then. whatever.”
the terms were simple: jake would pretend to be your boyfriend for the rest of the semester, going beyond the usual length of your relationships. you both had to keep it believable, but no unnecessary physical contact or emotional attachment— just to get everyone off your back. your break-up would then happen five months from now, with you both posting cryptic quotes on your ig stories, implying that it was mutual and ended nicely. whoever fell first, if that would ever happen, owed the winner one.
simple, right? just five months fake dating jake and not falling for him.
not really.
it had only been two days since your so-called agreement, and jake was already acting like the king doofus he was to you, like he had won some ridiculous lifetime achievement award.
if you thought he already snuck around you too often, you had to think again because now, he was like some fungi popping up everywhere unexpectedly. it felt like every corner you turned, every room you entered, he would be there, magically appearing and calling your pet name in a sickly sweet tone. whether it was "accidentally" bumping into you in the physics or your department buildings, or sending smug texts like 'don't you wanna meet up with your perfect boyfriend right now?' he was milking this for all it was worth.
it didn't help that the rumors of your relationship were spreading like wildfire. by monday morning, half of the student body was buzzing about your sudden and unexpected connection, as if they were the one who was blindsided, not you. each hallway you passed through would garner you tens and hundreds of whispers and side glances. even your friends didn't leave you alone. they had started teasing you nonstop about how you secretly "landed" the university's golden boy.
contrary to you, jake was basking in all of it. he had even gone as far as to sit with you and your friends during lunch in your own department, leaning his head onto your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. what ever happened to no unnecessary physical contact?
but then again, he was trying to make it look believable, and he was good at it. too good.
one afternoon, after a hectic day of attending face-to-face lectures and accomplishing requirements during vacant periods, your building had finally spewed you out of its traumatizing cage. you hauled your ass out of the room of your last class and walked towards the exit, only to be met with jake and his sports car.
you mentally groaned in annoyance, but kept your composure, not having the energy to deal with whatever he had for you this time. and you were in public, so you couldn't risk anything.
"what do you want?" you asked once you two were close enough. "i don't have energy for anything right now."
oddly, jake didn't look like his playful his self. all he said was, "i know," patting your head and opening the door of his car's passenger seat. "let me treat you tonight. no need to stress about anything cos no one we know's gonna come there for sure."
you sent him a skeptical look, scanning his features for any sign that he was messing with you, but he seemed quite genuine right now. he was giving you a soft, comforting smile, making you think back to that day again. you had been doing that often lately.
you let out a sigh, removing your bag from your shoulders and throwing it into the car. he grinned at you, amused, but didn't say anything. you went in wordlessly, and he closed the door and followed in after you.
jake had turned up the music a bit, something relaxing but upbeat that went well with your needs for tonight. he drove at a calming pace, even opening the windows so you could breathe in the fresh air in that part of the town.
you stole a glance at him for the corner of your eye, staring once in a while as he hummed the melody of whatever was playing. you had seen this side of him before. a tight feeling bloomed in your chest, and you looked out the window instead, trying to clear your mind.
"here we are," he finally said, parking before an old-looking diner. peeking at the interior, there weren't many people inside. only a couple and an individual were dining in.
you went out, not even waiting for jake, excited to experience the serenity of the place. you heard a chuckle from behind, but you didn't mind him yet, just continuing your pace towards its entrance.
the smell of buttery pancakes and fried onions greeted you as you pushed the door open, mixing in the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee. the warm, golden glow of the lights softened the edge of the small property, making the traditional checkerboard floor and faded red vinyl booths feel nostalgic.
you slid yourself in one of the seats, with jake going beside you. you didn't question why he had chosen to sit there, somehow feeling pleasant with the proximity. you both took a menu from the waitress, and then made your orders quickly.
"you seem to be in a better mood," jake commented, leaning back on the backrest of the booth's couch. "glad i could help."
you simply hummed in response, mimicking his action. it had been a while since you went out and felt relaxed like this. you couldn't believe either that it was with sim jaeyun, out of all people.
"rough day?" he continued to prod, looking at you with puppy eyes.
you shrugged at him, playing with the corners of the paper mat for the plate. "yeah. i'm so swamped. i'm glad i could save money for dinner with you treating me tonight," you jokingly told him.
jake laughed, shaking his head. "yeah, yeah. order everything you want then."
you looked at him curiously, not used to this treatment. it seemed that jake was getting softer and softer, but you didn't want to confront him about it. maybe he was just changing his jerky ways, finally deciding to be a decent guy.
before you could say anything about that, the ding of the bell above the doors interrupted you. your eyes widened as you saw jeongin enter the diner, hands pocketed, whistling a tune.
"jake!" you quickly pulled him by the sleeve. "i need you to put on the boyfriend act!" you instructed in panic before your ex-fling could notice you were there too.
jake was confused at first, evidently startled by the way you had pulled him closer to you, but when his eyes landed on the same guy, he put on a smirk. going above and beyond the act, he rested an arm around your shoulders, a hand on your thigh, and his head into the crook of your neck. you stiffened, surprised by what he had done.
"loosen up," he murmured, and you could feel him eye jeongin underneath your chin. "you're not making this convincing."
his over-the-top behavior had thrown you off once again, sending your heart racing, and you let him. partly because it successfully made your ex-fling steer clear of your booth, and partly because... you liked it? even if he made you nervous, it somehow felt right too.
after the diner incident, you felt that things between you and jake shifted, and you were certain he felt the same.
if it had done anything, it seemingly only encouraged him to become more romantic— way more than the deal required of him. his touches lingered longer, his teasing lost more and more heat and became increasingly affectionate, and he treated you to many places, going out of his way by posting a picture from your "dates."
you didn't escape that kind of effect that diner incident placed upon you two either. you now had began to notice details about you had never paid attention to before, like how his voice and laughter lit up whichever room he was in. you noticed the particular curve of his lips whenever he was excited about something. heck, you were even starting to think that his competitiveness was cute rather than your previous opinion of that trait of his.
as days went by, the line that you had drawn when you set your agreement continued to blur. you realized that the two of you had been spending more time with each other, more interested in going out on your own rather than showing your "relationship" off to your intended audience.
you were breaking the rules, and neither of you were brave enough to bring it up.
was he doing it on purpose? or were you just imagining it?
there were feelings brewing within you, and you weren't sure if you were ready to admit anything.
so what do you do?
you stupidly started to pull back, finding yourself in the presence of other people lately, especially your bestfriends like beomgyu. you used the classic excuses like being too busy with organization or school work so that you could avoid spending more time outside of what was "necessary."
jake wasn't an idiot; he was quick to pick up on it, and you easily understood that. he had definitely noticed the distance you had been putting between the two of you, while you also definitely noticed the frustration that had been radiating from him.
he thankfully didn't say anything about it when the two of you were together for the needed public interactions, and just went along. he just became a bit more absent-minded, like he had not been listening to you as closely as he always did the past few months.
this was for the best right? at least it was going to look like you two were falling out of love from an outsider's point of view.
"why did we have to go to this party again?" you mumbled to jake as you walked side-by-side into a fraternity house.
you did a double-take on him, feeling a blush on your cheeks as you admired his outfit. he was certainly playing for frat boy of the night.
jake only shrugged, projecting nonchalance, which stung you a little. it was like you had managed to get to know several jakes in your lifetime: the kind new boy, the annoying and competitive lad, the sweetest pretend-boyfriend, and this undecipherable jake.
"just remembering the deal."
you could only nod at that, not really knowing what else to reply.
a huge wave of relief washed over you when you had seen beomgyu standing by one of the counters, chatting with some guy who looked familiar from around the campus. you quickly left jake's side with an apologetic smile, walking over to your bestfriend and excusing him away from whoever he was talking to.
"yo, he was about to give me tips on the maths exam," beomgyu whined but let himself be pulled by you to the backyard. there were less people there, but still a considerable number. at least you two would be able to hear what you were talking about.
"i don't care," you cut him off, finally stopping by one of the big outdoor swings. "i'm going crazy here."
beomgyu raised an eyebrow at you as he sat on on the swing, pushing forward to make it sway. you hopped on on the space next to him, putting your face into your hands.
"in too deep, huh?" he said, offering a sympathetic pat on the back.
"i don't know what to do, seriously."
you heard him click his tongue. "dude, just confess or talk to him or something. you're both adults; you can handle at least a conversation, right?"
you looked at him, angry, but he was only saying the truth, so you couldn't really snap back with anything. you just sighed and leaned onto him, placing your head on his shoulder. "i want to. i'm just scared, okay?"
beomgyu placed a reassuring hand on yours, giving it a couple of pats. "i know. but anyone with eyes can see that you both really like each other. just take the first step because he seems like a wimp."
you chuckled to that, then breathed deeply as an attempt to calm yourself down.
"y/n," a firm voice called.
you two moved away from each other and turned your heads to see jake. he was visibly mad at something, but was still trying to keep his cool. he held out his hand and you hesitantly took it, afraid of upsetting him even more.
jake wrapped his hand softly around your wrist and steadily led you out to the parking lot where his car war, ignoring even his closest friends' greetings. you glued your eyes to the ground, not having the courage to meet any curious stares.
you both stop by his car and stood awkwardly. you waited for a few moments, wanting him to feel calmer before you would say anything.
"y/n..." he spoke, voice slightly trembling, "you're pulling away from me, but... you have no problem cozying up to him?"
you looked up, startled, and saw jake's eyes. they had turned glassy under the moonlight. you bit your lip, balling your hands into fists.
"why do you care?" you muttered, prying your eyes off him. "this is all fake anyway."
that was when jake, clearly still upset, blurted out, "it's not fake to me!" you two stare at each other, hearts wrenched in pain, as he continued, "i've been falling for you, and everything i've done was because i genuinely like you, okay? sue me if i'm the competitive jerk who would let you win whatever challenge this was, but that's how this turned out. you're the better partner because i've fallen so damn hard, y/n!"
the confession knocked the breath out of you. you stared at him with wide eyes, noticing how his chest heaved as if the words had been physically ripped from him. his usually confident demeanor was no more, replaced by this raw vulnerability you were aware he had been slowly exposing to you over time.
"i— jake..." you stammered, unsure of how to organize everything that was running through your head.
he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "you don't have to say anything. i just— i can't pretend anymore, that this doesn't mean anything to me. but if it's all fake to you..." his voice cracked slightly, and he shook his head, preparing to go to the driver's side.
panic rose in your chest. the sight of him about to walk away from you made your stomach churn. you had pulled away to protect yourself, but now it was clear that you were only hurting the both of you.
"it's not fake to me!" you confessed quickly, taking his hand in yours.
jake froze, eyes snapping over to yours. "what...?"
you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "it hasn't been fake for a long time now. i was just... so scared to admit it. i didn't know if you felt the same or what would happen if i confronted it."
his expression softened at your words, hope blooming in his eyes. "i do feel the same." he took a cautious step closer, searching your face for any hesitation. when he found none, he let out a shaky laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief. "god, you have no idea how long i've been waiting for this to happen."
you smiled, heart fluttering as he closed the distance between you. "i think i do now."
"so, are we officially breaking the no unnecessary touching rule?"
you laughed, sharing his relief and joy. "absolutely. that rule is officially dead."
as you both stood under the glow of the streetlights, everything finally fell into place. there was no more pretending, there were no more rules— just you and jake, finally on the same page and ready to see where this could take you.
it truly made perfect sense for you to challenge him like that because in true jake fashion, he hadn't just risen to it; he had completely rewritten the game.
images except the dividers belong to respective creators; found in pinterest. key words used: "jake layla" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/pinedoyamile00/]; "sim jaeyun" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/luvhjimin0/]; "diner white aesthetic" [from https://ph.pinterest.com/carlygracebergen/]
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, professor!sunghoon x professor!reader, infidelity, unprotected sex, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, almost getting caught
summary ↠ with things in the bedroom getting stale with your husband, you start searching for excitement and your co-worker, sunghoon, is more than willing to provide it for you. on campus, you barely acknowledge each other, but in the sheets, you can't stop calling out his name.
wc ↠ 2.2k
a/n ↠ originally posted on my blog revehae, i am not plagiarizing myself. part 1/3 of the in my blood series. as always, feedback is appreciated!
don’t like it, don’t read.
it started in the spring. like there was pollen in the air, too there was lust, gentle breezes seemingly sweeping you flush against sunghoon’s chest where you could never not inhale the manly scent of him; never not leave with it clinging to you.
you were very aware that it was wrong. matter of fact, every time you laid eyes on your husband’s face and looked into his, saw how they twinkled at the sight of you and how they were bewitched by the charm of your soul, guilt ruptured your heart with an angry, unmistakable pang of ire.
so you did not think with the throbbing inside your chest, but the throbbing between your thighs.
a woman needed excitement in her life, a kind of which sunghoon was more than glad to offer. sex quickly got boring in the bedroom after so many years of unlively routines and you taught molecular biology to a class of undergraduates that couldn’t wait to get the fuck on with their lives. to say nothing of the long nights spent sifting through overdue assignments. you were allowed to have fun sometimes. after all, you were only in your early thirties. you still considered yourself young.
like many other women, specifically younger ones that found him attractive for an older man, you noticed that sunghoon did not wear a ring on his finger. upon further discussion, you learned that though he was no longer married, he had a twenty-something-year-old son who took your class. apparently, his son spoke delightfully of you, which was flattering, but you’d always been more interested in what sunghoon thought.
and you quickly found out.
“had enough?” sunghoon asked, poking his head through the doorway.
not that you could see. there was a blindfold taut around your face, hindering your vision for the past forty-five minutes. to you, it felt like an eternity. the toy between your trembling thighs buzzed, inducing orgasm after orgasm, a number so great that it had tears slipping down your cheeks past the fabric of the blindfold.
speaking of orgasms, you couldn’t stop the cry that parted your lips as heat unfurled throughout your body for the umpteenth time, spreading from between your thighs to your head where there was nothing but empty thought and faintness.
“that was beautiful,” sunghoon remarked, only watching.
“please,” you croaked.
sunghoon played dumb with you. he had a penchant for it, drawing out your agony by pretending as if he were oblivious to your needs, when in reality he was the most attuned to them. “you want more?”
“no!” you exclaimed, desperate. you couldn’t even feel your legs if you tried, that was how long he had left you here with yourself - and this fucking toy. “please, no more. it’s too much, sunghoon.”
that was true. you knew when this affair first started that sunghoon was available to open you up to new, exciting things, because your bedroom experiences with your husband could all be described the same way. though with sunghoon, there was room for variety.
it was just overwhelming sometimes. sunghoon could be so harsh under the guise of merely giving you what he wanted. you knew that it was what he wanted if anything, that you were just his lab rant to experiment on, but you never admit that you liked it that way. nor would you admit that you would’ve also liked to be a little more.
but sunghoon knew that. he never mentioned a word of it, because it didn’t need to be said. it went without saying that you were his to do whatever he pleased with.
“sunghoon…,” you trailed, your voice shaky.
sunghoon, ignoring you, asked, “how many times did you cum?”
you gulped. racking your brain for an answer, you ultimately came up empty. by the third one, time lost all meaning and so did thought. “i… i lost count.”
“then, you know what that means, right?”
you gasped when the toy was moved. not at the action itself, but because you didn’t realize he’d gotten so close. his footsteps were so quiet.
“but…,” you started.
“but nothing,” sunghoon said, snatching the blindfold off of your face. you blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the brightness. the cuffs around your wrists were next. “you know the rules, don’t you?”
you whispered, “yes, sunghoon.”
“hands and knees.”
you didn’t hesitate to crawl into the said position, regardless of the exhaustion weighing down your body, because you knew what to expect if you didn’t comply with whatever he wanted. there were times were sunghoon was generous enough to let you cum, times where you didn’t deserve it, much like now. you wanted to get around punishment, but it would never happen if you didn’t satiate him.
the bed creaked when he raised himself atop of it from behind you, the sound of him fumbling with his belt making you wetter. once upon a time, you didn’t even think that that was possible, but you never stopped dripping when with sunghoon. somehow, he made even simple things like the anticipation arousing.
sunghoon dropped his shirt, followed by a toss of his pants. he had no need for them anymore. for the forty-five minutes that you’d been ruining his sheets, weakened by the overstimulation, sunghoon had been in his study trying to shake the thoughts of you while he attempted to grade papers. he was already hard from his imagination and the memories of stuffing you full of his cum, but seeing you in front of him, waiting for him, your pussy soaked for him, it did unfathomable things to his cock.
you released a shaky breath when you felt him lubricating himself with your arousal, slipping between your glistening folds, and writhed from the sensitivity. “sunghoon, it’s too much,” you whimpered.
sunghoon chuckled. “baby, i’m not even inside you yet.”
your face burned. you could feel yourself dripping and it was humiliating, because you only got like this for him and him only.
“so fucking wet,” sunghoon cursed, having fun teasing your folds. “just for me.”
you cried out when he suddenly slapped your cunt, mouth parted as you gasped out, “sunghoon...”
“fuck, you always get so wet for me. isn’t that right, baby?” sunghoon asked, enamored with you. it was magical how he could pretend as if you meant nothing to him at work and become so addicted to you when nobody was watching.
you bobbed your head. “yes, sunghoon. just for you.”
that must’ve did it for him, because the very next second, you felt sunghoon finally start to roll inside of your cunt, mumbling curses under his breath. you almost collapsed then, almost slumped and gave out just from the tip of his cock, but you resisted because you had something that you needed to prove.
sunghoon was slow, but his cock slipped right inside you with ease, it was almost pathetic. not to mention that he was bigger than anything you could’ve imagined taking, so much that you always found yourself gasping when you realized that he wasn’t completely buried inside of you yet. you couldn’t believe that he had so much to give.
“oh my god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back from how full you were. no man had ever satisfied you like this, and sunghoon was just getting started.
not only were you filled to the hilt with his hard cock, but also the ache for him to fuck you until your entire body went numb like he’d already done countless times. sunghoon gripped your hips, using them as an anchor. when you felt so good as you did, as tight as you were, it would be dangerous not to ground himself.
sunghoon grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling just tight enough to let you know the trip was there. you were basking in his warmth and being crushed underneath his weight while he balanced your hips in one hand and the grip on your hair in the other. he smacked your ass and hissed, “so fucking pretty.”
sometimes you wished that he was yours. you could imagine coming home with him day after day, singing to music in the car together while his company made minutes feel like hours. you didn’t mind that he had a son, either. you always wanted a child, though not one that would be the product of shitty sex and a broken marriage.
the liking you’d taken to sunghoon went beyond sex, though the endless orgasms and fulfillment he never neglected you of definitely encouraged those feelings. moments like now, when he was balls deep inside you, you were more than willing to risk it all for him. you would get a divorce. you would move in. anything he wanted, just as quick as he said the word.
i am out of my mind, came your thoughts, though your grip on them slackened the more sunghoon fucked you into oblivion.
“it’s so… deep,” you gasped, marveling.
sunghoon chuckled. though you had never said it outright, your constant fascination with how big his cock was or how deep he could fit inside you, stretching out your velvety tight walls, was more than enough of an indication that your husband was not exactly packing like he was. you made it a point to mention that sunghoon was huge.
“yeah?” sunghoon asked huskily, wanting to suck a bruise onto the side of your throat, but he willed himself not to.
“mm-hm,” you mumbled. “can feel you in… in my stomach.”
“where?” sunghoon kept one hand at your hip but dropped the one at your head, wrapping it around you, and reaching for your stomach. “here?”
you bobbed your head. he could feel it too, and it elicited a deep growl out of him, one that had you clamping involuntarily around his size.
sunghoon could fuck you for hours if you let him. the same way that he was the best you’d ever had, he simply couldn’t get enough of you. there were times throughout the day where his mind would only flicker with debilitating thoughts of you, memories of your face and how you tasted. at times, you made it difficult to move on.
“dad,” came a voice from down the hall, one both of you were very acquainted with.
“shit,” sunghoon hissed, irritated, and clamped his hand around your mouth. your cries and whimpers were muffled into his hard palm and your breath was cut off, because it was so difficult to breathe solely through your nose. “be a good girl and keep quiet.”
“dad,” sounded jake’s voice again, just outside the door.
your heart was racing. your eyes were wide, the fear and excitement of getting caught fighting for totality in your icy veins. his son was one of your students and students talked. if it got out that you were having an affair with sunghoon, this could destroy you, but there was something so arousing about the thrill.
“i’m in here. don’t open that door,” sunghoon said, breathless voice betraying what was happening behind that door.
his son was far from stupid, that you knew all too well, and retorted, “dad, are you getting laid? is it the hot nurse you were flirting with at the hospital? tell her i said ‘hi.’”
you frowned.
before sunghoon could even get a word out, his son added, “i’m leaving. you two have the house to yourselves again.”
“bye,” sunghoon huffed, dropping his palm from your face.
you inhaled sharply. you could finally breathe again.
sunghoon kissed the back of your neck, nibbling at your ear. “you did so good,” he whispered, voice gentle and sweet as ever. “if you beg good enough, i’ll change my mind and let you cum.”
you hopped at the opportunity like a ravenous pack of wolves starved through the winter, begging with the utmost desperation, “sunghoon, please. please let me cum. i’ll do anything, oh my fucking god, i need it. i need you.”
“you need me?”
so fucking bad. more than anything. “i need you,” you repeated, whinier. needier.
“cum around my dick,” sunghoon commanded, voice deep and throaty and just the way you liked it. you would steal a soul for him if that was what he wanted.
it wasn’t very long before one final cry of his name escaped you, pouring out of your lips like honey as you stuttered around his cock, heat spasming between your legs. tears trickled from your eyes, the stimulation from all of the orgasms you’d had in one night alone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from convulsing. your muscles slackened and your limbs went limp to your sides.
sunghoon was directly behind you, spurred on by the sight and feeling of you coming undone around him, and you knew when his hold on your hips tightened and that lethal growl parted his mouth that he had met his climax, the feeling of his hot cum seeping into your cunt being the unnecessary confirmation.
“good fucking girl,” sunghoon praised, still sweetly in your ear.
you sighed contentedly when he flipped you onto your back, sweeping you into his arms and kissing your lips as a treat. he wiped the tears out of your eyes, watching you still shudder.
“stay the night,” sunghoon said, looking into your hazy eyes.
you blinked, breathing heavily to catch your breath. “sunghoon, you know i can’t do that. my husband will...”
“i wasn’t asking.”
“well,” you replied, quietening. “i guess i can come up with something.”
sunghoon smiled triumphantly, smashing his lips against yours again. you sighed again, still content, though there was a thought lurking on your mind. i don’t know what i’m going to do.
