tags: rockstar haechan x fem!reader. fluff. oneshot. 2000 words.
when destiny brings you to haechan... or the two times you met haechan by coincidence, and the one time he took fate into his own hands.
part two here!
IT ALL STARTED WITH A LIGHTER, if you could even call it one. You’ve continuously flicked the sparkwheel, thumb burning from the friction, yet it remained unsparked.
Radost was jam-packed with gig-goers on Friday nights, and you weren’t one to enjoy rock gig environments; you preferred jazz bars instead. But Riku had dragged you here. So you truly needed this cigarette — you climbed up all those stairs towards the rooftop for this damn cigarette and you couldn’t even light it up. Frustrated, you tapped the hot pink lighter against your palm, lips puckered in stifled curses.
“You’ve tapped that poor thing enough, I think.”
You looked up, eyes met with brown ones. You recognised his face as one of the vocalists who performed — his face was easy to remember. Moles traced his cheeks down to his neck, hair slicked back — you had only seen this kind of face in your dreams before. Your hand trembled as you plucked the Marlboro from your lips.
“Right.”
You were about to tuck the stick back into its box when this stranger stepped towards you, fishing a lighter out of the pocket of his leather jacket. It wasn’t one of those cheap convenience store lighters, it was a Zippo — its colour black like his hair with a butterfly engraved on its case.
“I’ll light it up for you.”
You eyed his hand as it inched towards your lips, the other shielding the cigarette from the wind. It sparked up easily, as if a mockery of your earlier effort. You held up your Marlboro box as an offer, a compensation, but Haechan shook his head — you recalled his name from his performance introduction — and pocketed the Zippo.
“I don’t do cigars, just vape.”
You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Smoke engulfed the two of you, the colour enhancing the brown of his eyes as you took puffs from your cigarettes. He looked like a character in a noir movie, someone that you'd tell your grandkids about in thirty years. You eyed him down, and it only propelled him to stare back harder.
“So do you just bring it around to light up people’s cigarettes, picking up girls in the process?”
“Picking up boys, actually.”
“Oh.”
A sick kind of satisfaction filled Haechan at the embarrassment on your face. He let out a laugh.
“This would be my first time trying to pick up a girl.”
Red hues blossomed across your cheeks. Amidst the darkness, you prayed he wouldn’t notice — and if he did, you were to blame it on the November cold. To your luck, Haechan said nothing, only grinning at you playfully.
“Is it working?”
Of course, it was working. With his stupid leather jacket and his stupid handsome face and his stupid lines — it was working. But Haechan didn't need to know that. You knew many men like Haechan, and they were no good. So, you simply shrugged, head perking up upon Riku’s call of your name.
“Gotta go, thanks for the lighter.”
★★★
Lee Jeno [11:05 p.m.]: Hi, I'm Jeno, your Uber. There's traffic on the way to Seb's, so I will be a little late. Sorry for the inconvenience :)
You [11:07 p.m.]: it's ok jeno :) thx for telling me!
“Fuck this,” the words slipped out of your mouth louder than you intended. Exhausted, you slumped your back against a lamppost. When you shut your eyes, you could still hear the music in Seb's, the pour of soda into your empty glass, the audience clapping, the… Haechan…?
“Got a cigarette for me to light up?”
Your eyes peeled open to see the familiar figure standing before you. This time, his hair covered his forehead, and instead of a leather jacket, he wore a polyester coat, though his eyes were still underlined with Kohl. Grinning, he looked at you as though he had caught you doing something bad.
“I didn't know you were here.”
“That's cruel,” he gasped. Dramatically, Haechan clutched a hand to his heart. “I knew you were here since the moment you stepped into the bar.”
Once again, hues of pink crept up your cheeks. This time, however, Haechan said something —
“You’re all red. You cold, pretty?”
Your hands clasped against your cheeks, feeling their warmth. Caught red-fucking-handed.
“Yeah,” you lied, bringing your hands to rub against your arms, “It’s cold tonight.”
“Okay, take this.”
Before you could even process, nor even say anything in return, the raven was wrapping his coat around your shoulders, patting the polyester against your skin. The spontaneity of his actions led you to believe that this was natural to him — that he probably did it to every other girl at his gigs (or dudes, as he said). While it flattered you, it also made you want to stay miles away from him.
Regardless, you basked in the warmth of his coat, how it felt soft against your skin and how it smelled like him. You tugged it closer to your body, ignoring the grin that graced Haechan’s face.
“Better?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, pretty.”
The rest was pretty much a blur — how could you focus when he was so close to you? As he talked, his elbow kept grazing against yours — simple, brief touches that lingered in your stomach a little longer.
“Do you come here often?” he asked, tugging you towards him when a biker cycled too close.
“Mm,” you nodded, “Especially on Thursdays. The performer on Thursday is really cool, I love his voice.”
“Okay, so I’ll come every Thursday.”
Godddd. Did he own a bloody PhD on flirtation? In an attempt to conceal your smile, you pressed your lips together, nodding like his words had no effect on you. Haechan, on the other hand, allowed his lips to twitch into a smile. You were cute, and he wasn’t trying to hide it.
“So, can I have your number?”
Yesyoufuckingcan. But you didn’t say it. Your mind spiraled to the times Riku got screwed over by band guys — and the one time you got your heart broken so bad, you had thought it was the end of the world.
Hence, you bit your tongue.
“If we meet for the third time,” you muttered, taking off his coat and handing it to him. “I’m a firm believer of fate and shit. If we meet for the third time, then it’s destiny. So I’ll give it to you then.”
“Huh?”
Haechan stared at you, blinking his eyes in confusion as he half-mindedly took the coat from your hands. He parted his lips to speak, but no words would come out, his head going haywire with thoughts. Just then, your Uber pulled up.
“My Uber’s here,” you mumbled, flashing a small smile, “What about yours?”
“Walking home… just… wanted to accompany you ‘cause it’s midnight.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, waving goodbye before getting into the car. It drove away, his figure soon turning into a silhouette, Lee Haechan morphing into a ghost of your memories.
★★★
Fate… destiny… blah blah blah. They were like the Mercury Retrograde or whatever — bullshit.
“So you told him that you believe in fate and shit just ‘cause you wanted to reject him?”
When Jisung put it like that… it did feel a little pathetic. Shamefully nodding, you shoved one hand into the pockets of your apron. There were barely any students on campus on a Friday, especially in the vicinity of a study cafe. It was nearing closing, you were wiping down the counters as Jisung mopped the floor. He was clumsy, and he often asked stupid questions, such as, “Do you use bleach to mop?” But he was a good listener and funny sometimes, which made your shifts together fun.
“Well…”
“Kind of silly, isn’t it?”
“That’s one way to put it,” you chuckled, tossing the rag into the sink. “I just… don’t really trust guys like him.”
“Hmm,” he mumbled, nodding his redhead, but not in a way to agree with you, rather to rebut. Jisung parted his lips in retort when the cafe door swung open.
“Are you guys closed?”
“Not y —” your words got stuck in your throat the moment you turned around.
There he was, standing in all his glory, Lee Haechan. Clad in his leather jacket, bangs covering his forehead, leaning against the counter. He looked just like the first time you met him, evoking the same kind of warmth in you.
“Still open?”
“Uh, yeah,” you cleared your throat, moving towards the register. He skimmed through the menu while you looked to Jisung for support, only to see him backing away into the kitchen. Damn Park Jisung and his fear of people his age — you were going to give him one hell of a lecture later.
“One latte, for takeaway,” Haechan finally said, fishing into his pocket for his card. You nodded, keying it into the register. “Oh, and, I’d like for it to be delivered when you’re done with your shift.”
“Sorry, what?” You looked up, exasperated. Nervously, you looked around the cafe before leaning closer to him, whispering, “What the hell? I finish in an hour.”
Haechan tapped his card against the reader, shrugging. As if he had no care for anything in the world, and it made you wonder — how did it feel to carry such confidence? It made you feel small, yet fluttered at the same time. You didn’t know how to handle it.
“I can wait,” he said, “I can be patient.”
★★★
The sound of the cafe shutter hitting the pavement rang in your ears, though it couldn’t compare to the rapid beating of your heart. Thumping, knocking on your chest as you carried the latte towards Haechan. He was leaning against a lamp-post, and he smelled like blueberries — not the fruity kind, rather, the e-cigarette kind. Nonetheless, he smelled as sweet as his honeyed words.
“Your latte,” you mumbled, passing it to the raven. He didn’t take it, gently pushing the cup towards you instead.
“It’s actually for you.”
“You made me make a latte just for you to give it to me?”
“Genius, right? So you’d make it how you like it.”
“You’re actually impossible,” you huffed, leaning against the railing beside him, taking a sip from the latte. “How did you know I work here?”
“I didn’t know. It’s fate,” he answered, shrugging.
“Stop bullshitting,” you sighed, pulling out a stick of cigarette from your handbag. This time, you didn’t need him to light it up. He watched you, gaze fixated on your lips before trailing up to your eyes. You caught him — he knew, though not at all embarrassed, lips tugging into a sly grin.
“Asked everyone in Radost if they knew a certain pretty girl,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. “They all called me crazy, pretty. Thank god Riku figured out that I was describing you.”
Riku. You had forgotten that you were somewhat connected to Haechan through Riku, with his boyfriend being in the same band. You also didn’t think he’d go to such lengths just for you.
You sighed, flicking the cigarette with your middle finger, throwing your head back to look at the dark blue skies.
“Do you like me that much?” you questioned, gaze settling on his. You always assumed the worst out of others, undoubtedly, but you were also good at reading people. Sincerity swirled in the brown hues of Haechan’s eyes, as he nodded.
“I do. I don’t know what it is. I just do.”
Has anyone ever said such sweet words to you before? No, you don’t think so. Especially not with such softness nor certainty, and it scared you. Weighing the decision in your head, Haechan stood silently, letting himself be engulfed by the cigarette smoke.
“Are cigarettes that nice?” he questioned, his voice hushed.
“You can try it for yourself,” you whispered back.
“Nah. I’ll try it if you’d blow the smoke into my mouth.”
A chuckle left your lips. For a moment, you let the silence linger — and that’s when it dawned upon you. The comfortable silence, the effort he put in just to look for you, and the lack of pressure his words exuded. It wouldn’t be too bad if you gave him a chance. It really wouldn’t.
“I only do that on third dates,” you answered.
Haechan’s eyes widened. He looked at you — for the first time ever, he had lost all his cool, staring at you in disbelief.
“Oh,” the syllable slipped past his lips before he could stop them. A boyish grin graced his face.
Genre(s): Smut, porn with little plot, college AU, age gap, forbidden romance, drama, rich kid AU, pining, slice of life
Word Count: Approx 4.6k
Content Warnings/Tags: Mature content (18+ only/mdni!), strong language, professor x student dynamic, age gap, sexual tension, power imbalance, explicit dream sequence, oral (male receiving), penetrative sex, doggy, overestimulation, slight breeding kink, name-calling, daddy kink, mentions of vaping, virgin!reader, emotional conflict, pining, slight angst, reader innocence kink
Summary: You thought Calculus II would be the hardest subject this semester. You didn't expect your biggest distraction to be the handsome professor standing at the front of the classroom. One innocent slip of the tongue during office hours turns an embarrassing crush into something much harder to ignore.
Author’s Note: I'm still not over Jeno in that suit and glasses... like, are we sure he was allowed to look 1,000,000% that hot? 😳🩶 That look has been living in my head rent-free ever since. I actually wrote this fic sometime around april this year. It ended up sitting in my phone's notes app for months until I finally came back, polished it up a little, and decided it deserved to see the light of day. Anyway... enjoy the fic! And as always, thank you for reading!!
───────────── ✿ ──────────────
The first day of your fifth semester hits like a rush of fresh air mixed with the faint scent of overpriced coffee from the campus café. You're Y/N, the girl everyone knows—the one from the wealthy family who could probably buy half the university if she wanted, but instead, you're here, trudging through IT and data science classes because your parents insist on that fancy degree. It's not like you hate it; you actually pull off straight A's without breaking a sweat, your bubbly energy turning late-night study sessions into something almost fun. But truth be told, college feels more like a playground than a necessity, and you're the playful type who skips through it all with a bratty smile and a spoiled little sway in your step.
You're in your early twenties, small and cute as hell, with wide doe eyes that make you look innocent even when you're not trying to be. Your style screams pink and girly—today, it's a tiny pleated skirt that barely skims your thighs, hugging your round, soft-looking bottom just enough to make it jiggle a bit when you walk, paired with a cropped top that hides your big breasts but hints at their fullness if you lean just right. Guys stare, of course. They always do. Whispers follow you down the halls: "Damn, I'd kill to get with her." But you? You couldn't care less. None of them spark that fire in you. You're a virgin, after all, and no way in hell are you handing over something that precious to some random dude who thinks vaping makes him edgy. It has to be someone special, someone who deserves to slide between your legs and claim you.
As you weave through the crowded quad, your phone buzzes with texts from your so-called friends—girls who borrow your designer bags and expect you to foot the bill for brunch without a second thought. You smile at the messages, replying with hearts and emojis, but deep down, you keep them at arm's length. They're sweet, sure, but they take more than they give. You're kind like that, never calling them out, just floating through with your extroverted charm.
Then there's Sion. He's leaning against a tree near the lecture hall, that cocky grin plastered on his face as he spots you—a flash of confidence wrapped in a mess of fiery red hair that catches the afternoon light like a warning sign. Popular guy, captain of the debate team or whatever, with a trail of girlfriends longer than his vape cloud. He's been hitting on you since freshman year—lunch dates, study 'sessions,' the works. Today, he's got a fresh haircut, those red locks styled just right, and that same lingering smoke smell clinging to his jacket like it's part of his brand.
"Y/N, babe, you look fire today," he calls out, pushing off the tree and falling into step beside you. His eyes rake over your skirt, lingering on the way it rides up just a tad as you adjust your backpack. "Wanna grab coffee after class? My treat."
You tilt your head, giving him that polite but firm smile you've perfected. "Sion you.. smoke." It's innocent, really—no malice, just a statement. But it lands like a gut punch. His grin falters, and you keep walking, your hips swaying without a care. He mutters something under his breath, but you don't stick around to hear it. Health-conscious? Yeah, that's you. No clouds of vapor or cigarette haze for the guy who'd get to touch you.
The calculus lecture hall is already half-full when you slip inside, the air cool and buzzing with pre-semester chatter. You pick a seat right in the front row, dead center, crossing your legs under the desk as your skirt hikes up your thighs. A few guys from your IT classes glance your way, their stares hungry, but you ignore them, pulling out your notebook and pink gel pen. Calculus. Ugh, but maybe this semester won't suck.
The door at the front swings open, and in walks Professor Lee Jeno. Holy shit. He's not what you expected. Mid-thirties, maybe, with sharp features that scream handsome in a way that's almost unfair—a jawline that looked like it could cut glass, and dark hair slicked back just enough to look professional without trying too hard. He adjusts his glasses as he sets his briefcase on the desk, the thin frames perched on his nose making him look even more intense. His button-up shirt clings to broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that flex when he uncaps a marker. No wedding ring, you note absently. Not that it matters.
"Good morning, class," he says, his voice deep and commanding, cutting through the murmurs like a knife. "I'm Professor Lee Jeno, and this is Calculus II. If you're here for easy A's, you've got the wrong room." He scans the room, his gaze lingering on you for a split second—those dark eyes behind the glasses making your stomach flip in a way no guy's ever done before. Butterflies. Actual goddamn butterflies.
He dives right in, scribbling equations on the board with precise strokes. Limits, derivatives—you try to focus, but it's hard when he's right there, his back to the class as his slacks hug his ass and thighs in a way that's distractingly fit. You lean forward, chin in hand, watching the way his arm muscles shift under his shirt. He's strict, you can tell; he calls out a guy in the back for whispering, docking participation points on the spot. But there's something about him—hot, yeah, but desirable. Like, take-off-the-glasses-and-ruin-me desirable.
By the end of the lecture, you're hooked. Not on the math, exactly, but on him. You scribble notes furiously, actually understanding more than you thought you would. As the class files out, your classmates nudge each other, whispering about how you're glued to your seat in Professor Lee's class, unlike your usual bubbly distractions in other lectures. "Y/N's got it bad," one girl giggles, but you just flash a playful smile and pack up.
Over the next few weeks, it becomes your routine. Front row, every time. You study your butt off for his quizzes—good grades, always. But it's the crush sneaking up on you that you don't even clock. You just like being there, watching him pace, his voice wrapping around complex theorems like it's foreplay for your brain.
One afternoon, after a particularly tricky lecture on integrals, you linger as the room empties. Your heart's pounding a little too fast, but you blame it on the material. "Professor Lee?" you call out sweetly, approaching his desk with your notebook clutched to your chest. Your skirt swishes against your thighs, the hem dangerously short.
He looks up from grading papers, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Yes, Miss...?" He glances at your name on the attendance sheet. "Y/N. What can I do for you?"
"I, um, didn't quite get that last example," you say, all wide-eyed innocence, flipping open your notebook to a page that's mostly doodles of equations with little hearts around them. It's a lie—you nailed it—but you need an excuse. "Could you explain it again? Maybe in your office? If that's okay."
He hesitates, but nods professionally. "Of course. Follow me."
His office is tucked in the math building's quiet wing, a small space lined with bookshelves and a desk piled with papers. The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly it's just the two of you, the air thicker than it should be. You perch on the edge of the guest chair, crossing your legs, your skirt rides up higher than intended, exposing the soft curve of your thigh. Jeno clears his throat, sitting across from you, his chair creaking under his weight.
"All right, show me where you're stuck," he says, leaning forward to peer at your notebook. But as you slide it over, you lean in too, your top dipping just enough to brush the tops of your breasts against the desk edge. He freezes for a beat, his eyes flicking down—quick, professional, but you catch it. A flush creeps up his neck.
You bite your lip, playing it bubbly. "It's this part, Daddy—er, Professor. Sorry, force of habit from my old tutor." The word slips out, laced with that innocent charm, but it hangs in the air like smoke. Daddy. Fuck, why did that feel so right? Your core twitches, a warm slickness building between your legs without you even registering it. You're just here for help, right?
Jeno's jaw tightens, but he recovers fast, pointing to the equation. "Here. You forgot to apply the chain rule properly." His voice is steady, but when his hand brushes yours as he hands back the pen, electricity shoots up your arm. He's closer now, explaining step by step, his cologne—clean, masculine—filling your senses.
You nod along, but your mind's wandering to how his glasses make him look like he could unravel you with a single stern glance. To shift for a better look, you uncross your legs, and your skirt hikes up further, the fabric straining against your round bottom as you lean over the desk. Compromising as hell—your thighs part just a fraction, and you feel that unfamiliar wetness pooling in your panties, making you squirm subtly.
He notices. Of course he does. His explanation stutters for a second, eyes darting to your exposed skin before snapping back to the paper. "Like this," he murmurs, a little rougher, adjusting his glasses.
You tilt your head, batting your lashes. "Thanks, Professor. You're the best. I mean, no one explains it like you do." Your voice is playful, flirty without pushing, a subtle purr that makes his fingers tighten on the pen. Daddy undertones simmer under your words, unspoken but electric.
"You're a good student, Y/N," he says, voice low, meeting your eyes. There's tension there, thick and unspoken, his professionalism cracking just a hair. "Just keep up the work."
You straighten up and turn to leave, smoothing your skirt—but it catches on the chair arm, tugging up one side and flashing the edge of your lacy pink panties. You gasp softly, yanking it down, cheeks pink. "Oops. These skirts are tricky."
Jeno averts his gaze, but not before you see the heat in his eyes. "Be careful," he warns, almost too quietly.
You flash him a bubbly smile, heart racing, that slick heat between your thighs making every step out of his office feel like torture. What the hell is happening? But deep down, you know—you want more of this, more of him. And something tells you he does too.
❀ ❦ ❀
The dream pulls you under like a warm, forbidden tide, your body sinking into the soft sheets of your bed as the university fades away. You're in a dimly lit bedroom now, the air thick with anticipation, and there he is—Professor Lee Jeno, but not the buttoned-up version from class. His glasses are off, tossed aside on the bedside table, revealing those sharp, intense eyes that lock onto you with raw hunger. His hair is tousled, no longer slicked back, falling just enough to make him look dangerously approachable. He's shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling, muscles defined from years of discipline, and his slacks are already unbuckled, hinting at the bulge straining beneath.
You don't question how you got here; dreams don't need logic. You're on your knees in front of him, your tiny pink skirt hiked up around your waist, top pushed down to expose your big breasts bouncing slightly with your breaths. Your wide doe eyes look up at him, innocent yet playful, that bratty spark igniting as you reach for his zipper. "Professor Lee..." you whisper, but it comes out breathy, needy.
"Jeno," he corrects, voice low and commanding, his hand coming up to cup your chin. "Or better yet... call me Daddy." The word sends a shiver straight to your core, your untouched pussy clenching in response. You've never done this before, not in reality, but here, in this hazy fantasy, your small hands know exactly what to do. You tug his slacks down, and his cock springs free—thick, veined, and impossibly huge, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. It's bigger than you imagined, heavy in your palm as you wrap your fingers around the base, giving it a tentative stroke.
He groans, low and guttural, his fingers threading into your hair, not pulling yet, just holding. "That's it, baby girl. Show Daddy what that pretty mouth can do." You lean in, your tongue darting out to lick a slow stripe up the underside, savoring the salty taste. Your hand pumps him steadily, caressing the length with soft twists, thumb circling the head to spread the slickness. He's so warm, pulsing under your touch, and you worship it like it's the only thing that matters—kissing the tip softly, lips brushing the sensitive slit before sucking it into your mouth with a wet pop.
Jeno's breath hitches, his grip tightening in your hair. "Good girl... fuck, you're a natural slut for this cock, aren't you?" The degradation hits you like a spark, making your thighs press together as wetness pools between them. You take more of him, sucking deeper, your tongue swirling around the head while your hand strokes what you can't fit yet. Licking turns to bobbing, your cheeks hollowing as you pump him faster, the obscene sounds of your mouth filling the room—slurps and moans vibrating against his skin.
He thrusts shallowly at first, controlled, his hand guiding your head. "Deeper, baby. Take Daddy's cock like the woman you are." You obey, relaxing your throat as you push forward, gagging slightly when the thick head hits the back. Tears prick your eyes, but you don't stop, deep throating him until your nose brushes his pelvis, his balls heavy against your chin. He holds you there, tangling his fingers tighter, a brief face fuck starting—rough pulls that make you choke, but he reins it in, aggressive yet never losing control. "That's my slut... choking on it so pretty."
You pull back gasping, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, and he lets you catch your breath before pushing you down again. But just as you're lost in the rhythm, he yanks you off with a firm tug on your hair, his cock twitching in the air, slick and shining from your efforts. "Enough," he growls, eyes dark. "On your stomach, baby girl. Daddy's gonna fuck that tight little pussy now."
Your heart races as you scramble onto the bed, flipping over and pressing your face into the pillows, ass up just enough to present yourself. Your round, squishable cheeks jiggle as you settle, the small but perky flesh begging for attention. Jeno climbs behind you, his weight dipping the mattress, and you feel the heat of his body before his hands grip your hips. He slaps his cock against your ass—once, twice, the heavy thwack echoing as it smacks your soft, jiggly skin, making it ripple. "Look at this ass... all mine to ruin."
He parts your cheeks with rough palms, exposing your dripping slit and the tight rim above it. His cock rubs up and down, teasing your folds, coating himself in your arousal before dragging over your puckered hole. You whimper, pushing back instinctively, your virgin body aching for more. "Please, Daddy..." you beg, voice muffled in the sheets.
"Say it right," he demands, one hand sliding up to pull your hair, arching your back. "Call me Dad. Papa. Sir. Whatever it takes to get this cock inside you."
"Daddy... Dad... please, Sir," you gasp, the words tumbling out in a rush, the daddy fantasy blooming hot in your chest.
He chuckles darkly, positioning the tip at your entrance. "Good girl." Then he's pushing in—slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Your pussy is too small, too tight, stretching around his girth like it was made for him. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets, the burn mixing with pleasure as he fills you. "Fuck, so tight... just the way Daddy likes a good pussy. Gripping me like a vice, slut." He bottoms out finally, hips flush against your ass, nothing but skin between you—his balls pressed to your clit, his cock buried to the hilt.
He doesn't give you time to adjust fully before he starts thrusting—rough, aggressive snaps of his hips that jolt you forward on the bed, your breasts squishing against the mattress. But it's controlled, each drive precise, hitting that spot deep inside that makes stars burst behind your eyes. The bed creaks under the force, headboard slamming against the wall in rhythmic thuds, the bed almost breaking with his power. Wet sounds fill the air—skin slapping skin, your slick pussy squelching around him as he pulls out and slams back in.
"You're such a picky little slut," he grunts, leaning over you, his chest to your back. One hand wraps around your throat lightly, breath play making your head spin as he squeezes just enough to heighten everything. "Turning down all those boys because you only want good, potent cock like Daddy's. Gonna breed this tight cunt, fill you up until you're dripping with my cum." His words send you spiraling, your walls clenching hard, sucking him in like you never want to let go.
You push back against him, meeting his thrusts, your ass jiggling with each impact. 'Yes, Jeno... breed me, Papa... Sir, please!" His free hand snakes down, a finger circling your rim before dipping in lightly, the dual sensation making you keen. He bites your shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark, then he soothes it with his tongue, pulling your hair to expose your neck for more nips.
He shifts, wrapping your legs around his thighs to lock you in place, fucking deeper now, the angle making him grind against your g-spot relentlessly. "Come for me first, baby. Your first orgasm on Daddy's cock—milk me dry, you filthy woman." The command tips you over, pleasure crashing through you like a wave. You come hard, pussy spasming around him, clenching and squeezing in waves that leave you trembling, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets beneath you.
Jeno groans, thrusts faltering as he follows, slamming in one last time. "Fuck, take it all..." Hot spurts fill you, his cock pulsing endlessly inside your fluttering walls. He stays buried, grinding slow circles to ride it out, his release seeming never-ending. You push back, keeping him nestled deep, clenching to hold every drop, your body greedy for more even as aftershocks ripple through you.
But then, reality crashes in. Your eyes flutter open, the dream dissolving like smoke. You're back in your dorm room, tangled in pink sheets, the morning light filtering through the curtains. Your heart pounds, breaths coming in pants, and as you shift, a sticky warmth spreads between your thighs. You're soaked—panties drenched, arousal slicking your skin under the fabric. A wet dream. About him. Professor Lee. Your cheeks burn, but the ache lingers, a promise of what your subconscious craves.
❀ ❦ ❀
The days following that encounter in the office—and the vivid, soul-shaking wet dream that followed—are a blur of mortification and longing. Every time you close your eyes, you can still feel the phantom weight of Professor Lee's body pressing you into the mattress, the guttural sound of him calling you a slut, and the way he filled you until you felt like you might break.
You are absolutely mortified. The fact that you actually let the word "Daddy" slip out loud in real life is enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. You’re a good girl, a sweet girl, but your subconscious is clearly a filthy little brat.
Consequently, your behavior in Calculus changes drastically. You, the girl who practically lived in the front row, now retreat to the very back of the lecture hall. You sink into your seat, trying to make your small frame even smaller, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You don't look at the board; you don't raise your hand. You just stare at your notebook, doodling little pink hearts and equations, praying Jeno doesn't notice your sudden disappearance.
Unfortunately, the back of the room is Sion’s territory.
"Hey, princess," Sion whispers, leaning in close, a lock of his fiery red hair falling across his forehead. You can smell the faint, cloying scent of his vape—something that smells like artificial blueberries and desperation. He’s handsome in a conventional, boy-band sort of way, but compared to the raw, commanding masculinity of Professor Lee, he feels like a child. "You've been acting weird. Why the sudden move to the back? Missed seeing those legs up front."
You don't even look at him, your voice flat. "I just wanted a different perspective, Sion."
"Right. Well, how about a different perspective on lunch? My treat. There's that new bistro downtown," he pushes, his voice dropping to a flirtatious hum.
"I'm busy," you reply simply, not even glancing his way. You couldn't care less about his bistro or his ego. All you can think about is the man at the front of the room, the way his voice vibrates through the air, and how much you want to be under him again—even if it was just a dream.
Your "friends"—the group of girls who adore your wardrobe and designer bags but barely know your middle name—cluster around you after class. They’re mostly interested in the rumors about Jeno’s background.
"Did you see the watch he was wearing today?" one of them whispers, her eyes gleaming with greed. "That’s a Patek Philippe. He’s not just a professor; he’s filthy rich. Y/N, you’re the only one he actually talks to. You have to get us in with him."
You give them a sweet, innocent smile, though internally you feel a flicker of distaste. You’ve always been kind, too soft to tell them they’re using you, but you subconsciously keep a distance. You don't want them anywhere near Jeno. He’s your secret, your forbidden craving.
For a week, the silence between you and Jeno is deafening. You leave the room the second the bell rings, practically sprinting out the door. But Jeno is a man of observation. He notices the shift in your energy, the way you shrink away from him, and the way your doe eyes dart away whenever he glances your way.
Then comes Friday.
As the class ends and students begin to shuffle out, Jeno’s voice cuts through the noise, calm and authoritative. "Miss Y/N. Please stay behind for a moment."
Your heart leaps into your throat. You freeze, your grip tightening on the strap of your pink purse. "I-I can't—I have—" you stammer, your mind racing for an excuse.
"It'll only take a moment," he says. It isn't a request; it's a directive.
You feel trapped, your legs moving on autopilot as you follow him into his office. The door clicks shut, and the sudden silence of the room feels heavy, charged with a tension that makes the fine hairs on your arms stand up.
You sit in the guest chair, feeling tiny and exposed. You’re wearing a pale pink cropped cardigan and a matching pleated skirt that barely covers the tops of your thighs. You’re sweating slightly, your palms damp, the bubbly, extroverted version of yourself replaced by a trembling, nervous wreck.
Jeno doesn't speak at first. He stands behind his desk, watching you with those piercing eyes. Slowly, he reaches up and removes his glasses, setting them carefully on the mahogany surface.
Your breath hitches. Without the glasses, his gaze is raw, more intense. He looks exactly like he did in the dream—the man who took you with a rough, possessive hunger. The thought flashes through your mind: God, he's so much hotter like this, and you immediately bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning.
"You've been avoiding me," he says. His voice is a low rumble that vibrates in your chest.
"I haven't—" you start, your voice small.
"You have." A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He steps around the desk, moving with a predatory grace. "Is it because of what you called me the other day?"
The blood rushes to your face, turning you a shade of red that rivals a strawberry. You look down at your lap, your voice a mere whisper. "I—I'm sorry—"
"Don't be."
Before you can react, he’s there. He leans down, his face coming level with yours. He places one arm on the back of your chair, effectively caging you between his body and the seat. He’s so close you can smell his scent—expensive cologne, old books, and something metallic and sharp.
You freeze, your heart hammering against your ribs. He’s too close. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer presence of him overwhelming your senses. You think about how small you are compared to him, how easily he could just... take you.
Jeno’s gaze softens slightly as he notices the small, pink flower clip pinning back a lock of your hair. It matches your outfit perfectly, adding to the image of innocent, girly sweetness that he finds distractingly cute. A faint smirk plays on his lips, though he maintains his professional veneer.
"Your performance in class hasn't slipped," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "In fact, your grades are better than half the class. You're a very diligent student, Y/N."
"Thank you, Sir," you whisper, feeling a strange mix of pride and arousal.
But he doesn't pull away. He stays in your space, You find yourself staring—just for a second too long—at his lips. They are firm, well-defined, and you can almost taste them. You imagine those lips on your neck, biting your shoulder just like in the dream.
Jeno notices. He sees the desire in your eyes, the way your pupils are blown wide. He doesn't say anything, but the air between you practically crackles with electricity. Then, as quickly as he had approached, he begins to pull away.
Panic flares in your chest. You don't want him to leave. You don't want the tension to break. In a moment of pure, impulsive desperation, your hand shoots out. You grab his wrist, your small fingers clutching the expensive fabric of his suit jacket cuff.
The contact is electric. You feel the hard muscle of his forearm beneath the cloth, and for a heartbeat, you both just stay like that—frozen in a moment of unspoken desire.
Then, reality slams back into you. What am I doing?!
You let go instantly, pulling your hand back as if you've been burned. "I'm sorry! I—I didn't mean to—I'm so sorry!" you gasp, cursing yourself internally. You feel like a complete idiot, a bratty, impulsive mess.
Jeno doesn't respond immediately. He looks down at his wrist, then back at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a glint in his eyes that suggests he didn't mind the touch. If anything, it seemed to pique his interest.
"It's fine," he says simply, turning back toward his desk.
You don't wait for another word. You scramble out of the chair, grabbing your purse and practically fleeing the room. As you turn to leave, you instinctively smooth down your skirt, but it's too short. As you pivot, the fabric rides up, giving Jeno a clear, unobstructed glimpse of the curve of your round, squishable bottom and the edge of your lace panties.
You disappear into the hallway, your heart racing, leaving a heavy silence behind.
Inside the office, Jeno stands still. He closes his eyes and lets out a long, slow exhale, his shoulders dropping. He leans back against his desk, the image of your jiggling cheeks and the scent of your floral perfume still lingering in the air. He is a man of discipline, a man who knows exactly where the boundaries are, but you are making it increasingly difficult for him to remember why those boundaries exist.
by four in the morning you were questioning every life choice that had led you to this exact moment. more specifically you were questioning why you decided to have kids. your 7 month old twin son and daughter i had spent the entire night taking turns waking up what felt like every forty-five minutes.
every single time one baby finally settled down the other would wake up. bean would cry until you rocked him back to sleep and then mochi would decide she suddenly needed you. then just when your daughter was asleep again, your son would start fussing. you had been up and down so many times that your legs hurt. your eyes burned from exhaustion and your patience was hanging by a thread. meanwhile, lying beside you was your husband park jisung who had somehow slept through every second of it.
the latest cry crackled through the baby monitor and you immediately froze, waiting to see if maybe this time jisung would wake up first. he didn’t even twitch. you slowly turned your head toward him and found him exactly where he’d been all night, completely passed out with his face buried in the pillow. another cry came through the monitor.
nothing.
not even a flinch.
you stared at him for several seconds before reaching over and shoving his shoulder. he shifted slightly and then settled right back into the mattress. your eye twitched. “jisung.”
no response.
“jisung.” nothing.
you shoved him again, harder this time. he let out a sleepy groan but made no effort to open his eyes. “your children are crying.” “mm.” “your children have been crying all night.” “mm.” you stared at him in disbelief. “i swear to god.” when that still wasn’t enough, you smacked his arm. it was not hard enough to hurt him but hard enough to finally get a reaction.
his eyes flew open instantly. “what happened?” he asked. you sat there staring at him so long that his expression slowly shifted from confusion to concern. “what happened?” you repeated. “what happened is i’ve been awake every forty five minutes since midnight while you’ve been reenacting sleeping beauty.” jisung blinked several times as his brain slowly caught up. another cry came through the monitor and his eyes widened slightly. “oh.” you laughed once but there wasn’t a single ounce of humor in it. “oh?” you echoed. “that’s all you have to say?”
he rubbed a hand over his face and sat up, revealing hair sticking up in every possible direction and a pillow crease stamped across his cheek. “i didn’t hear them.” “i know you didn’t hear them.” “how many times did they wake up?” you just looked at him. his face immediately fell. “that many?” you kept staring. “more than that?” another cry interrupted him and suddenly he was scrambling out of bed.
you watched him practically trip over his own feet trying to get to the nursery before the babies woke up completely. several minutes later the crying finally stopped, allowing you to collapse backward onto your pillow for what felt like the first time all night. you were just beginning to drift off when footsteps returned down the hallway. opening one eye, you found jisung standing in the doorway holding both twins. your son was wide awake and happily chewing on his fist while your daughter was curled against his shoulder looking half asleep. neither baby seemed remotely bothered by the fact that they had terrorized the household for the last several hours.
“what?” you asked immediately. jisung shifted awkwardly. “they wouldn’t settle.” “and?” “they wanted you.” your eye twitched again. “take your children and leave.” a laugh escaped him despite his obvious guilt. “our children.” “right now they’re yours.” jisung sighed and stepped into the room before carefully lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. bean immediately reached toward you with grabby hands while mochi let out a sleepy little whine and buried her face deeper into her father’s shoulder.
for a moment you considered maintaining your annoyance. then your son smiled at you. unfortunately, you were weak. jisung watched your expression soften and immediately looked relieved. “i’m sorry,” he said quietly. “i really didn’t hear them.” you accepted bean when he launched himself in your direction and glared at your husband over the top of the baby’s head. “that’s almost worse.” “i know.” “how does someone sleep through twins?” “i don’t know.” “they were screaming.” “i know.” “at one point they were both crying.” “i know.” “i almost threw something at you.” that finally made him laugh. “you should’ve.”
a small smile pulled at your lips mostly because he looked genuinely sorry and partially because mochi had started snoring softly against his shoulder while bean attempted to shove his entire fist into his mouth. exhaustion settled over all four of you as the room finally grew quiet for the first time all night. jisung reached over and squeezed your knee gently. “go back to sleep. i’ll stay up with them.” you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “you?” “yes, me.” “the man who was unconscious for four straight hours?” “okay, that’s fair.” “thank you.” “go to sleep anyway.”
for once you didn’t argue. as you settled back into the mattress you could hear bean happily babbling to his father while jisung quietly entertained him and bounced mochi against his shoulder. the last thing you heard before finally falling asleep was jisung whispering, “you two owe your mama an apology and a really good nap after this."
You never liked rainy days. Then a boy with a warm smile and an umbrella wandered into your life, and somehow, the storms didn’t seem nearly as frightening anymore.
Word count. 17370
Content. Dancing in the rain on the rooftop. Many walks home together under the rain. Forbidden love-ish, you are his coach’s daughter. Gets angsty at the end but has a HEA. Hella down bad Haechan, he would get on his knees for you if you asked.
M.list + a/n. First Haechan and 10k+ worded fic. I enjoyed writing this one though, heavily inspired by the song 雨爱. Took months listening to that song to finally come up with a plot that I was satisfied with that could encapsulate the whole meaning. Hehe happy reading!
Act I. Somewhere between the thunder and the quiet, I found you.
The first time you met him, it was pouring outside. The heavy beating of the rain and the rumble of thunder felt as though the sky was sending a warning–one in which you were oblivious to.
You had been cooped up in the school library, immersed in studying about body systems and cells after the disappointing failure in your previous quiz. Time flew by quickly and little did you know, you were leaving the school building late at night when the librarian had came to chase you away.
You hadn’t even realise that it was raining, not until you fully exited the confines of the school and your body froze instinctively. It was like your body knew it was raining before your brain did, heart spiking and eyes darting side to side as you examined the battlefield. You hated the rain, the thunderous claps that resounded a little bit too loudly for your liking. You flinched when a particularly loud thunder echoed.
With shaky hands you managed to grab your umbrella from your bag, yet continued to stand still with it clutched tightly in your hands. You debated on cowering back in school. Perhaps you would just stay in school until it passes, if it continues until morning then so be it.
You were about to turn back into school when a voice spoke from beside you, “are you okay?”, your eyes shot up. The boy beside you frowned as he looked at you, concern evident in his gaze. His eyes trailed from your hand—tightly gripping your umbrella—to the tension lining your shoulders. His hood was pulled up, his hair slightly ruffled yet somehow still effortlessly neat. He had, admittedly, very pretty eyes.
For a second, you had been in a trance until you were brought back by a piercing scream of thunder, making you jump and let out a shriek. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment from your cowardice, already knowing that he was probably going to make fun of you.
He did none of that.
“I can walk you home,” he simply suggested. “I promise I’m not a stalker, kidnapper, nor a murderer,” he continued, as if predicting what you were going to say when you parted your lips. You struggled with words as you processed what he said.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he replied. He took a step towards you, gently turning you around to face him. Squinting in concentration, he raised his hands, carefully tucking your hair behind your ears before taking the headphones around his neck and placing it over your ears. The world immediately fell silent as melodious, calming music filled your ears instead, as if the downpour was from another world.
“Good?” You read his lips as the noise cancellation worked its magic at silencing him too, you gave him a small, shy nod and his lips tilted upwards in satisfaction. He turned away, opening his umbrella, prompting you to do the same.
Surprisingly, you found your heart calm as you finally stepped out of the shelter, him following closely behind with his own umbrella. You felt less alone, and it helped that the soft tunes playing through the headphones replaced the loud roar of thunder.
Soon enough, you arrived home, letting out a sigh of relief as you reached the sheltered entrance at your front doorstep. You turned around once you closed your umbrella, removing the headphones from the top of your head. The world became clear again, the loud thudding of droplets falling on rooftops, the constant low voices from the sky. Despite all that, you managed to smile.
The boy stood in front of you, still under the rain, holding up his umbrella. You handed his headphones back. “Thank you…” you trailed off, not actually knowing his name.
“Donghyuck,” he finished for you.
“Well, I’m y/n, thanks for helping me,” you gave him an appreciative smile to which he simply nodded in acknowledgement.
After a beat of silence, Donghyuck turned around and walked away.
Act II. Some love stories are meant to begin with storms.
School the following day had been as boisterous as the day before, everyone raving about the ice hockey game from two days ago. The school had won, and apparently it had been a miracle considering that they were up against one of their top rivaling schools. It was getting annoying to be constantly reminded of it, if you were being honest. Your dad had came home with the widest grin on his face, clearly in a good mood and went on and on about the entire game. You were happy for his success, truly, but it got a little long-winded towards the end as the hockey terms blurred together into a jumbled mess in your brain.
“Listen. I know I shouldn’t watch any hockey games as a loyal friend of yours, hockey team coach daughter or whatever. But everyone has been non-stop with their chatter about some new rookie with god-given talent that curiosity got the better of me,” Aria, your best friend, started rambling. “Holy hell he is really good and more importantly, he is hot.”
“Curiosity kills the cat,” you could only reply, not really interested in anything hockey despite your dad’s occupation. Even while your surroundings had always revolved around hockey, you always made sure that your world didn’t.
“Well, his looks can certainly kill me for sure, so you’re not completely wrong about that,” the latter swooned. “Did you know that it was his first game of the season and he already scored a hat trick? And it was against one of our biggest opponents. No wonder everyone has been talking about it for so long.”
“Well, good for him,” you vaguely replied, munching on the watermelons you had packed to school. “Seriously though, my dad has been going on and on about it so I already know everything about his amazing talent. He wasn’t sitting on the benches only because one of the seniors got injured, guess he really seized the opportunity,” you added, just so you sounded like you had been engaged in the conversation–though, you were really just zoning out.
“Anyways, Haechan is really hot. Like really swoon-worthy so I get the recent hype, together with his talent, he is really the epitome of ideal type,” Aria gushed before collecting herself. “Okay anyways that’s all I have, I will officially be back in loyal best friend mode and not talk about hockey,” she put on a poker face, which didn’t last long before it broke into a grin. “But he really is hot.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh wow, he must be really ugly,” you deadpanned before cracking a smile at the latter’s exasperated face. The two of you continued talking until the bell rang, signalling the start of the next period.
You had gym class alone–much to your dismay–so you snuck out. It was not new for you to skip the period to study; the goody-two-shoes in you didn’t seem to apply to physical education. You surreptitiously exited the indoor stadium while everyone was distracted, heading up to your sanctuary–the school’s rooftop.
To say you were bad at biology was an understatement–you were terrible at it. Your less-than-ideal grades on the previous quiz was still gnawing at your ego. With your back against the wall as you sat down with your notes on your lap, cool wind blowing calmly in your direction, you started revising and understanding the concepts. You couldn’t afford another failure. You needed a scholarship, and to earn it, you needed every grade to be impeccable.
Unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck had similar ideas. The only difference was that he was having a free period, his wired earpiece in his ears as he softly hummed to the song while climbing up the stairs to the roof. What you had previously thought was a secret spot was not so secretive after all.
The door closed behind him with a soft bang, startling you as you had not expected anyone to be up here. Your eyes shot towards the entrance, surprised to find the same set of eyes from yesterday.This time, he was wearing glasses, the hood of his zip-up hoodie was down, in place of his headphones was a set of wired earpiece.
“See something you like?” there was a lilt to his voice that hadn’t been there the day before, his words taking a teasing tone as his lips curled up in amusement.
“Wha– What the hell are you doing here?” you sputtered, turning your head back to face the front in embarrassment from having been caught staring at him. The contrast in his personality was striking, he seemed serious when helping you yesterday, not teasing nor playful.
He shrugged, settling down beside you, grabbing one of your notes that was splayed out messily on the ground. “Mmm…Biology my favourite,” Donghyuck hummed.
That got your attention. “Really? Are you good at it? Would you mind tutoring me?” you asked excitedly, thinking that perhaps this might be a perfect solution for you to buck up.
“My favourite subject to skip,” he clarified, breaking into a grin. “You’re cute when you get excited,” he laughed, ruffling your hair endearingly. You were supposed to be annoyed, and yet you could only feel shy after his off-handed compliment. The boy seemed really easy-going, carefree.
“You’re really different from how you were yesterday,” you muttered, snatching your paper back from his hands to busy yourself. “I preferred it when you weren’t making fun of me.”
Donghyuck turned to you, squinting at your face in concentration as if he was trying to remember something. “We met yesterday?” he asked. Your face dropped, blood rushing to your cheeks as awkwardness seeped in. You were just someone he helped, of course he wouldn’t remember you, you thought.
“Uh–nevermind.”
And there goes his beam once again. He was honestly quite a convincing actor. “Gotcha! You should have seen the devastation on your face, y/n,” he teased. Humiliated, your lips tilted downwards, not finding any of this funny at all. You shoved your things into your bag, zipping it up and was prepared to leave but was stopped by him grabbing your wrist. “Wait. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad,” his eyes glimmered with guilt now, all hints of playfulness gone. This version looked more like the version of Donghyuck that you had encountered yesterday.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. You’re hurt and I’m sorry. I should have thought that through, I know we’re barely even friends to be joking around like that so quickly,” Donghyuck frowned. “I was just having a bad day and you seem like you’re having a bad day too. So let’s have a bad day together, sit down. If anything, I should be the one leaving because you were here first.”
He dropped his grip around your wrist, patting the spot that you were previously sitting on. Hesitantly, after weighing your options between sitting back down or going back inside and potentially be caught by a teacher for skipping lessons, you sat back down. Though this time, you didn’t take your notes out again.
A moment of silence passed before Donghyuck offered you one side of his earpiece. You raised a brow in question, but accepted it anyway, placing it in your ear. He restarted the song he was playing, the same soft tune from yesterday filling your ears. No lyrics, just instrumentals with someone humming a melody, as if it were an unfinished song. Even so, it was soothing, the voice like sunlight breaking through clouds after a storm.
“What song is this?” You asked curiously. Donghyuck seemed abashed by your question, lips parting yet no words escaped as if he did not know how to reply, a tinge of red colouring his ears.
“Well…um…It’s a work in progress,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Actually, I made it,” he admitted. Your eyes widened in shock, glancing up to meet his eyes. “Yup, I just haven’t yet figured out what the lyrics should be.”
“For what’s worth, it’s really good,” you complimented, slightly in awe that he could compose such a catchy tune.
Donghyuck felt a little bit shy at your words, and also a sense of relief. You were the first person he had ever allowed to listen to his music, he didn’t know why but hearing your opinion mattered to him more than he realised. He hadn’t even realise that the song playing through the headphones was his until he took them back from you yesterday.
You started humming to the melody and that placed a small smile on Donghyuck’s face. You were just a girl he met yesterday under the rain, yet watching you appreciate his work made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was because it was his first time letting anyone into this side of his life, the side that no one knows about. The sunlight highlighted the freckles across your face, your expression peaceful. Donghyuck decided that he preferred you like this–content, tranquil, ethereal. Ethereal? Well…maybe you were a little breathtaking to him.
The two of you had some small talk, getting to know simple facts about each other until the bell rang indicating the next period. You had been so absorbed in conversation with the latter that you only realised that it was drizzling when you stood up. “Oh, it’s going to rain,” you mumbled, eyes darting up to look at the darkening sky.
“Just in time then, time to head back indoors, sunshine,” he opened the door for you, bowing down and lifting his hand in a dramatic gesture that seemed to say ‘ladies first’.
“Sunshine?” you raised a brow questioningly, entering the confines of school once again.
He shrugged like it was nothing, making his way down the stairs, pausing right at the door leading to the hallway. “Can’t remember your name,” he joked before disappearing through the crowd of students. This time, you weren’t offended because you knew he was just kidding. If his words itself wasn’t obvious enough, the twitching at the corners of his lips would give him away.
For the first time in your life, you hadn’t immediately ran for shelter at the first sign of rain. Perhaps you were a little enamoured by the boy, from the glint in his eyes to the thoughtfulness of his actions distracting enough to blur the world around you.
And maybe your heart warmed a little at the thought of him.
Act III. Coincidence or fate? We always meet when it rains.
It had been a few days since it last rained, and you wished for that streak to last much, much longer. Luck wasn’t on your side today though, or maybe it was, depending on how you saw the situation. You were already cooped up in your room this time–thankfully–though the screams of thunder from outside was still merciless.
Out of all days, your dad had decided that today was the perfect day to invite his players over for a ‘team bonding’ dinner. Their boisterous laughter resonated throughout the house, infiltrating the silence in your room. Maybe that was a good thing as it had drowned out the boom of thunder significantly enough for you to not be as affected.
There was a few minutes of peace where you thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. You could get through this without going down to grab your airpods that you left in the kitchen in your haste to hide out in your room when the first of many players had arrived.
And exactly at that moment where you think that it will all be fine, the gods decided to start playing their tricks.
The storm seemed to get heavier, the sound of thunder gaining volume while the noise from downstairs seemed to have quietened. Even under the comfort of your blanket (and an army of soft toys guarding you), it was inadequate against the onslaught of thunder. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to get yourself to calm down, breathing in and out to ease your anxiety but to no avail.You had never mastered the art of being unaffected without the help of anything noise cancelling, or anything that could simply drown out the noise.
You laid there for a few more minutes, hand tightly clutching your phone as if it were a lifeline, the video playing already falling on deaf ears, tuned out by your mental prayers for the storm to dwindle. Eventually, you sighed in exasperation, deciding that you can’t go on like this until morning and at least it wouldn’t be quiet and dark downstairs when you went to grab your airpods if you did it right then and there.
Once you’d collected yourself, you rose to your feet and padded quietly toward the door. Carefully, you peeked over the stair railing, spotting the team gathered in the dining room, laughing and eating together. Perfect, you thought, already mapping out your route to the kitchen just beyond. Undetected and quick—that was the goal. The only challenge would be slipping past the dining room unnoticed.
With determination in your steps, you followed the steps that you pictured in your head. Steeling yourself when a roar of thunder came through, and biting down on your bottom lip to prevent a squeak from giving you away. It was laughably easy, your lips curving in victory when you got past the dining room and turned the corner into the kitchen.
That was your mistake. A miscalculation on your part, for the kitchen wasn’t in fact empty.
“Sunshine? What a lovely surprise,” Donghyuck mused, one hand holding a drink and the other his phone. His eyes raked over your figure, from your bare feet to your sweatpants and hoodie, the corners of his mouth twitching at your messy hair like he was holding back a laugh.
Inwardly, you groaned, scolding yourself for not having thought of checking whether the coast was clear in the kitchen itself. You assumed that the group inside the dining room was large enough for an entire hockey team, who knew that there was one more extra lurking around elsewhere (for example, ahem, the kitchen?).
You had to admit, you didn’t look your best right now and that was slightly embarrassing in front of the boy whom you had recently got to know. “Will you keep it down?” You hissed, walking towards where he was–not purposely, your airpods were right beside him. “I’m trying to avoid being spotted by any players right now…wait are you a hockey player too?” you eyed him up and down now, analysing his physique. He had a relatively slender build that you wouldn’t peg for a hockey player.
“Yup I am,” You scoffed at that. Just your luck, you ended up entwined with a hockey player once again. The latter didn’t take offence to your expression though, in fact, his eyes glinted with amusement as he watched you. “What’s wrong with hockey players?”
“Oh nothing, just that the previous time I became friends with one of my dad’s players he ended up dating a popular girl and started bullying me for absolutely no reason at all. So now I kind of just get an ick from hockey players,” you explained dryly, snatching your airpods from the table and turning around back the way you came from. “Enjoy your dinner,” you waved.
“Wait, I can walk you back to your room, it’s raining aren’t you scared to go back alone?” he stopped you with a hand on your wrist.
You jumped away from him as if you were struck by lightning. “Seriously, I might be scared of the rain but I’m sure I’ll be fine walking max 30 seconds to get to my room. Thanks for your concern though, have fun bonding,” you went on your way to the door but froze when you heard a voice call out from the dining room.
“Haechan! Hurry up and come back you don’t want to miss this.”
“Coming!” The boy behind you called out. You stopped there dead in your tracks, colour draining from your face as you processed the newfound information.
Slowly, you turned around, looking at Donghyuck with an entirely new light. “You’re Haechan?” You asked, your tone coming out accusing. Eyes narrowing to his face, a flash of hurt passing your eyes. “You said your name is Donghyuck,” you added weakly. You didn’t understand why you were so upset over this, you barely knew this guy and yet the most basic thing about him you did know was a lie? And he was the famous star player rookie that everyone had been talking about in school. Aria wasn’t lying then, he is undeniably good-looking, perhaps devastatingly so.
Donghyuck’s heart dropped in his chest, a tinge of guilt caused his throat to constrict, lips tipping down at the hurt splashed across your face. He didn’t like being the reason that you were sad. “I didn’t lie to you, not exactly,” he started, “my real name is Donghyuck, Haechan is just a nickname that most people call me or know me for. It has always been hockey player Lee Haechan, not hockey player Lee Donghyuck.”
“Hae—Y/N? What are you doing in the kitchen?” Your dad appeared in the doorway, his gaze shifting from your downcast face to Donghyuck, whose hand was still outstretched as if he’d been about to reach for you. “What’s going on? Did you hurt my daughter?” Your dad fumed, standing with his arms akimbo as he glared at Donghyuck.
It hadn’t yet clicked in Donghyuck’s head that you were his coach’s daughter until then and there, recoiling as he realised the implications. “I’m sorry, coach,” he simply said.
“It’s okay dad, he didn’t do anything,” you said in an attempt to placate your dad. “We were just talking and I was about to go back to my room and sleep so goodnight!” You flashed him a smile that worked in softening him.
“Alright, sweetie, sweet dreams.” With that, you turned and left, leaving Donghyuck standing there awkwardly with your dad, watching you go and feeling kind of betrayed that you were leaving him alone to face his wrath. However, it seemed that you had done your job well in pacifying him, your dad sighed, patting the boy on his shoulder. “You’re one of the best players I have right now, Haechan. I won’t tell you to stay away from my daughter but if you ever do anything to hurt her, you’ll face the consequences,” He warned, before smiling warmly. “Okay, let’s get back to team bonding, shall we?”
With the storm raging outside and the knowledge of you staying right in the confines of this house, Donghyuck hesitantly took his seat in the dining room once again. He felt bad for how the two of you left things right before your dad had interrupted, having not yet fully resolved your misunderstanding. He just had to talk to you again in school.
Despite your father’s warning, somewhere deep within his heart, he thought that any consequence would be worth it, for you.
Act IV. Frozen ice, thawing hearts.
It was late, the moon was already strung high up in the sky, hallways quiet and the library empty by the time you left. Your footsteps seemed to thunder in the silence, picking up your pace to get to the skating rink quickly to meet your dad. You had been too engrossed with a particularly challenging mathematics problem, to which your stubborn self refused to leave until you solved it. You were lucky to have a dad working with the skating team at your school. Their practices were always running late and you can study in the library in peace knowing you have an easy ride back home on those particular days of the week.
Entering the ice rink, a gust of cool air caused you to shiver. Goosebumps started to rise along your arms as you got closer to the rink in the center of the room. Making your way in the direction of your dad’s office, you felt a little anxious at the thought of potentially seeing Donghyuck.
It had been a week since the team dinner and you may have been purposefully avoiding him, still feeling hurt from his lie. You knew it was unreasonable, it isn’t as if he truly did lie in the first place, and in reality, he was only honest with you and lying to everyone else with his alias. Logically, the team should have already went home, it had already been an hour since their practice had ended, so you knew the chances of bumping into him were basically zero.
The office was just opposite of their locker room, there wasn’t a single whisper of a sound coming from there so you assumed they had all left as usual. You mentally thanked the stars for that blessing.
“Sunshine?” Nevermind. You thanked the stars too soon. Your hand dropped from the door handle and you quickly spun around, facing the same boy who you had been avoiding all week. His hair was damp from his shower and a whiff of his fresh, clean scent drifted in the air. None of that caught your attention unlike his eyes did, they had a hint of dullness in them, as if something was bothering him and he didn’t quite know how to fix it. And yet, when his eyes met hers, they shined with what seemed like a glimmer of hope.
His mouth opened and closed a few times as though he was at a loss for words, not knowing what to say or do with himself. He wanted to clear the air so badly, yet he didn’t know how to start a conversation about that, you had clearly been avoiding him and he’d rather not make you uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?” He ended up asking instead, starting with something easy despite wanting to blurt out every apology in the world and beg on his knees for you to be his friend again–if the two of you were even considered friends in the first place.
“Oh, uh I’m just meeting my dad so that we can go home together,” you answered. Donghyuck knew this was his chance, if he didn’t talk to her now, they would never talk ever again.
“You should probably wait for him to come out, he is lecturing one of us right now,” the lie easily slipped through his lips. There was a moment of silence before he continued, “can we talk?” You frowned at that, eyes darting around, debating your options. Ultimately, you knew you couldn’t get out of this one with your dad still busy in his office.
“Okay,” you softly agreed. Donghyuck let out a relieved breath, now wrecking his brain for the right words to plead his case.
“Listen. I never meant to lie by omission, it just felt right to tell you my real name rather than my alias. In fact, I’ve always disliked the kind of attention and responsibilities that ‘Haechan’ came with. God-given talents, good looking ice hockey player who would go pro. I have always preferred my real name, not that anyone cares about what I prefer or don’t,” he chuckled bitterly. “When I realise that you didn’t know who I was at all, it felt right to give you my real name. I’m sorry you felt hurt by that, I swear I never meant to hide my identity from you or anything. Please, can you forgive me? I really, truly want to be friends with you,” he spoke with a deep, overwhelming sincerity.
You could tell how genuinely apologetic he was and you honestly felt kind of bad for being mad at him for this long. It felt a little touching to know that you got to know the real him instead of his popular hockey player side. And the way he was looking at you, like your next words could either make him the luckiest man alive or destroy his entire world, sent your heart racing and your thoughts spiraling. It was the intoxicating realization that he had placed that kind of power in your hands, offering it up on a silver platter without hesitation.
You took a few steps towards him. There was a lump in your throat preventing you from getting any words out, so you could only give him a small, almost imperceptible nod. The boy’s eyes lit up at that, “really?” he asked, needing your words to confirm what you were implying.
“Yes. I forgive you and we can be friends.”
“Thank you! I swear you won’t regre–” his words got cut off and the wide grin that had taken over his face was replaced by a sheepish expression.
“Y/n? You’re here already? Why didn’t you come in and tell me?” Your dad stepped out of his office with his backpack swung over one shoulder while he locked his door behind him. “I was about to go find you after waiting for so long, I assumed you got caught up in the library or something,” he finished.
A dawning realisation that Donghyuck had lied about your dad meeting someone just so that he could talk to you made you roll your eyes and glare in his direction. “Oops?” He mouthed, guilt overshadowing his face. Perhaps it was not the brightest idea to tell a lie when your anger came from him lying to you in the first place. He was about to open his mouth and apologise again, when he saw the small, amused smile curving your lips. It felt like a cupid’s arrow struck him in the heart at the sight, bewitching him as all he could do was stare at your mouth, his chest tightening while an ache bloomed beneath his ribs, sharp and inexplicable. For the first time, he realised just how pretty you were.
“Haechan? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from my daughter?” Coach frowned.
“Yes, Coach but we are friends now so you can’t possibly be depriving your daughter of my amazing presence, right sunshine?” The boy flashed a boyish smile. He didn’t really care if his coach minded their friendship, he was going to treasure it.
Your dad sighed, knowing his antics. “Is that true, sweetie?” he aimed his question at you, you only gave him a rueful smile in response. “Fine. As long as you don’t do anything to hurt her. One tear and I will murder you, and I know how to make it look like an accident,” he threatened, eyes narrowing on his player.
“Cross my heart and hope to die, coach,” Donghyuck saluted playfully though his words were sincere. And with one last grateful smile aimed at you, he left with a slight bounce to his steps and him humming a tune as he walked away.
A quiet laugh might have escaped you, drawn out by the endearingly dorky, wonderfully ridiculous sight before you.
Act V. Rain sings against the ceiling, we skate as if the sky were silent.
A few weeks passed, the two of you were almost two peas in a pod at this point and many around the school were starting to pick up on the blossoming friendship between the two. Every lunch break was spent with Donghyuck by your side, munching on your food at the secret spot on the rooftop. Your library study sessions were a little bit more distracting with him by your side, at least until he had to leave for practice then you’d get the peace of mind to focus on studying.
On days when it rained and your dad being too busy to drive you home, he dutifully walked you home after school. Those were the days where he was quieter, handing you his headphones without a word and allowing you to listen to one of his new works or any of his old ones. His voice was soothing, amongst the pattering rain. It gave you a break, everything else became distant as you focussed on the calming melody.
Admittedly, you felt bad and a little bit guilty for ditching Aria but she always told you that she didn’t mind and that “if it were her, she’d spend every second of the day with someone who looks like that too.” Despite that, you continued to try to dedicate some days to eat with her and catch up.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
You genuinely didn’t know how you ended up here. Sitting on one of the benches by the ice rink, hands clenching and unclenching as you stared at the intimidating rink. “Here, these should be your size,” Donghyuck grinned as he held up a pair of skates, mischief dancing in his eyes as he took in your deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Oh aren’t you a ray of sunshine, you should see your face right now,” he chuckled as he placed the skates down beside you.
“Oh shut up, I don’t even know how you convinced me to do this. I hate skating,” you sighed. Just as you were about to bend down to untie your laces, Donghyuck squatted down and did it for you. “I can do it myself, I’m not a baby,” you tried to swat his hands away.
“You’re right. You’re not a baby, you’re a princess. Just let me do this for you, okay?” His voice was gentle, a softness that reached a deep part in your chest. Taken aback by his words, and distracted by controlling the rising heat in your cheeks, you allowed him to help you. His hands were gentle as he grabbed your ankle, wiggling the skates onto your feet before tightening the laces for you. His lips pursed in concentration, every step meticulous as he helped you put on the skates. Once he was done, he tapped the skates twice. “Do they feel alright? Too tight? Too loose?” he questioned.
You wiggled your feet before shaking your head. Donghyuck got up to put on his own skates before standing before you with a hand outstretched. “Well, no time like the present, sunshine. Let’s get to work,” the corners of his lips lifted into an encouraging smile. You were wobbly on your feet as you grabbed his hand and stand up on the two blades, practically waddling towards the actual ice rink. “You’re cute, like a baby learning her first steps cute,” Donghyuck snickered, his blood circulation cutting off where your death grip on his arm began.
You glared up at him as you gripped onto the side wall right before touching the ice. “You said I’m not a baby just a few minutes ago,” you said pointedly, grimacing as you tested the ice with one foot, only for it to slip making you retract your foot back into the safe zone.
“Well, okay maybe you are a little bit of a baby, but you’re a princess all the same sunshine,” he breathed wistfully. Unlike you, he stepped onto the rink without hesitation, doing a little turn before coming to face you. “Come on, sunshine. You can do it, nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here. And did I mention that I am the most talented player in school? Yup, that’s right. No better teacher than me to teach you how to skate and potentially fall in love with it in the process,” Donghyuck spoke with arrogance, his eyes dancing as he watched you.
You inhaled a shaky breath, gripping both hands tightly on the side wall as you finally placed both feet onto the ice. “Okay now what?” you grumbled, your entire weight basically leaned against the wall, gripping on for dear life.
“Bend your knees and keep your feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed. For a set of relatively simple instructions, it was really difficult to do. Your knees shook as you tried to bend them and keeping yourself balanced proved to be a challenge. You bit your lip in concentration, trying your best not to fall. It took a few tries before Donghyuck was satisfied enough by your posture. “Now, look up, don’t look at your feet or you’ll fall. Focus on me, sunshine,” he took one of your hand that had been grabbing onto the wall, your eyes widened in panic making you stumble a little but he managed to fix you back upright.
Gradually, with one hand gliding along the rink wall and the other clasped in Donghyuck's, you inched forward one careful step at a time until you completed a full lap around the rink. The hardest part was not giving in to the urge to look at your feet. You were already sweating despite the cool air, your knees threatening to give out from the strain. “I hate ice skating,” your complaint only caused the boy to laugh. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do this while holding a stick and focussing on a puck at the same time. That’s quite crazy to think about and you’ve been skating backwards the whole time, how do you even do that,” you rambled as you gripped on the wall and stretched your legs out a bit.
“I’ve been doing this since I was five, of course it comes naturally to me now after so many years silly,” he flicked your forehead, gesturing for both your hands to hold his now. “We’ll go a few more rounds,” you groaned in response.
“If you let go I am going to kill you,” you threatened, grasping his hands tightly as he led you away from the side wall. “You know, if I knew better I would think that you’re just using this as an excuse to hold my hand,” you commented, squinting at his jovial appearance in suspicion. The more you looked, the redder his ears seem to get. “Ha! I knew it, that was definitely part of the plan,” you concluded, rolling your eyes at his bashful expression.
You did another three laps around the rink before taking a short break. It was getting dark outside, dark clouds overhead as it started to drizzle. Raindrops pattered on the transparent ceiling above the rink, the thundering was muffled in the confines of the space. Not that you noticed it was raining though, your full focus simply on the boy before you.
“Alright, one last lap then we can stop,” he announced.
“Finally.”
At first, the two of you continued as usual, with both your hands in his as he guided you along. “I’m going to let go, I think you can try skating on your own now,” he alerted you before slowly letting go, except that your grip tightened the moment you processed his words. His eyes softened as they looked into yours. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall, alright? Do you trust me?” He gently pacified. You drew your lips into a thin line before nodding slowly. “Good girl,” he said as you reluctantly let go of his hands.
Now skating on your own, you felt your heart raced in fear. It took you a while to find a balance that didn’t make you wobbly and scrambling for control over your movements. But in the end, you managed to skate by yourself. “Hey! Look! I’m doing it!” You grinned, eyes darting towards his face.
That was a mistake. You shouldn’t have looked at him because the moment you do, you were struck in the gut at the sight. His eyes glimmered with pride as he watched you, a doting smile lifting the corners of his lips. On the ice that was basically his second home, he looked like something otherworldly–natural, youthful, and serene in a way he never really was despite his laughter and jokes. Fascinated by the joy radiating from him, you forgot about where you were and what you were doing.
In that exact moment of distraction, your feet slipped out from under you. Everything happened in slow motion, one moment you were on your feet and the next you felt like you were being lifted off the ground, falling backwards. A petrified scream escaped your lips but before you could fall to the ground, Donghyuck’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up towards him.
“I told you I got you, didn’t I?” he murmured, steadying you, his arm never leaving your waist. Your hand clenched a fistful of his shirt, needing something to ground yourself. Your breath came out in short, uneven heaves, the adrenaline from your close fall causing your heart to palpitate. “Come on, I think that’s enough for today,” he spoke softly, his eyes scrutinised your body, ensuring that you weren’t hurt anywhere. Your eyes were still widened in shock, hand shaking slightly and clearly not knowing what to do with yourself anymore.
Before you even finished processing what happened, Donghyuck was scooping you up in his arms. You let out a squeal in surprise as he cradled you in his arms while yours instinctively circled around his neck. He glided effortlessly across the ice, carrying you back to the rest area as though you weighed nothing at all. You could only stare at his side profile, from his sharp jaw to his long lashes, his eyes a warm honey brown up close. His breath fanned your cheeks, his hands clutching you firmly to his chest.
Too quick for your liking, you were placed down on the bench, his warmth disappearing but not the flush that had occupied your cheeks. You were quiet as he took off his skates before moving on to unlace yours. “There you go, back to the world where concrete is the ground you walk on,” he joked, standing up from his knees after helping you put your shoes back on.
“I would kiss the ground if it weren’t full of hockey player dirt on it,” you drawled.
“Well, you’re not wrong.”
The two of you left the rink together, and just like that your bubble was burst. The world came back into focus as a roar of thunder echoed through the hallway causing you to flinch. “I’ll walk you home,” Donghyuck stated simply, a hand on your lower back which guided you towards the exit of the school. “I finished a song yesterday, you can listen to it,” he rubbed the back of his neck shyly. Forcing down his nerves, he tucked your hair behind your ears before gently placing his headphones over your head. He pulled out his finished song, playing it for you to listen as you got your umbrella out.
And just like that, the two of you walked together side by side, each with an umbrella in hand. The pounding of the rain replaced by Donghyuck’s mellifluous voice, the onslaught of droplets not as intimidating as it once was.
“It’s a love song,” was your only comment when you handed him back his headphones at the shelter by your door. The boy frowned as he thought about it, he never realised what exactly he was writing about when the words were flowing so smoothly, just that everything came out of him as he thought of you. It dawned upon him then that it was in fact a love song, his ears turning pink as he became flustered. “Do you have a crush or something?” You pressed, not knowing why your chest ached at the idea of him liking someone.
“I didn’t even realise that it turned into a love song,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I guess it is what it is. The lyrics just came to me naturally, don’t let it get into your head, sunshine,” he said calmly although inside, his mind he was spiralling as a sinking realisation was beginning to unfold the more his eyes ran over her features.
“Well, goodnight, Hyuck.”
“Goodnight, sunshine. Make sure to dream of me,” he teased as he walked backwards while waving at you. You only rolled your eyes, turning your back and entering your house with a smile on your face.
Act VI. When there is rain, there is you.
The school was buzzing with energy on game day, everyone talking about the most anticipated game of the season since it was with the school’s biggest rivals. There was a long queue to enter the arena, everyone eager to secure seats inside and spending time to grab some snacks to eat as well.
You and Aria were no exception, the two of you chatting merrily as you queued up despite the mild migraine that was developing from all the noise. “Did you hear about the school dance at the end of the year? We should sign up,” Aria chirped. “You can go with Haechan, you know, your boy with those god-given looks.”
“He isn’t my boy.”
“Please, semantics. He literally doesn’t give any other girl the time of day except for you,” she dismissed you with a wave of her hand. “You should ask him to the dance.”
“What? No thanks, I can’t even dance I’m not really interested in attending it at all,” you pressed your lips together. You didn’t really think that he’d go to the dance with you anyway, you were sure that he’d ask someone much prettier and on the same social status as him to boost his reputation.
“Then, how about you attend it for me? Pretty please, we will have so much fun together, I promise!” Aria pleaded, flashing puppy dog eyes at you.
“I’ll think about it,” was all you gave her, though her victorious beam was all it took for you to know that you’d agree. She was your best friend after all, and it was only right after being so preoccupied for the past few weeks.
Conversations died off suddenly as the crowd parted to create a path for the boy who was squeezing through. “Excuse me– Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Donghyuck’s voice generated whispers from the crowd, but at the same time fangirls were yelling his name. “Yes, thanks for your support. Sorry– I’m kinda in a rush to get back in time for the pre-game talk,” he politely signed some autographs, bowing and thanking fans. Thankfully, his height gave him an advantage to scan the crowd, in search of you.
His eyes brightened when he caught sight of you, now moving quicker in determination to get to you. “Hey sunshine,” he flashed a dimpled smile with a slight tilt of his head when he reached you. The attention immediately fell on the two of you, some curious while others gave her death glares, making you embarrassed. He turned towards your friend, “Hi Aria! Nice to see you again,” he greeted her as well, and your heart fluttered at that–there was something hot about the way he respected and included those you cared about despite not being close.
“What are you doing here? You’re basically risking getting mobbed right now,” your eyebrows furrowed at the thought of him getting hurt.
“Aw your concern is adorable, sunshine,” he gave a light tap on the tip of your nose. “But I came to tell you that I saved seats for the both of you, follow me.” Without giving you a chance to reply, he turned and started walking towards the entrance. After every few steps, he turned behind to check that you were keeping up, but it seemed that you weren’t close enough for his liking because the next time he turned around, he frowned at the distance and walked back to grab your hand.
Now he was practically dragging you through the crowd with Aria following close behind you. Her wiggling her eyebrows when she made eye contact with you, before eyeing your hand that was clasped in his. “Aw the two of you are so cute together,” she cooed playfully, voice low enough for only you to hear.
You could only direct a glare at her before moving your attention back to where you were headed. Entering the arena was definitely much less suffocating than the hallway outside, it was slightly cooler inside though not as much as when it was just you and Donghyuck. It did little to ease the migraine blooming, moving your head side to side to try and balance out the pain. The boy brought the two of you to the very first row, right in front of the plexiglass. “Sweet! Front row seats,” Aria exclaimed, immediately settling down and admiring the close-up view of the ice.
You turned towards Donghyuck, “thanks for saving us seats, it was getting really stuffy waiting out there for so long, I honestly have a migraine now,” you thanked, sighing as you brought a hand up to rub your temple. He examined you for a moment, not saying anything for a moment though concern flashed in his eyes. He raised his hand towards your hair, gingerly tugging your hair tie down from the length of your ponytail, letting your hair fall in loose waves.
“Is that better?” he prodded while he slipped your light blue hair tie around his wrist.
“Slightly,” you raked a hand through your hair, loosening the tightness that probably did contribute to your headache. “Thanks,” you mumbled. “You can go do your…whatever it is you do now,” you vaguely waved your hand towards the direction of the locker rooms.
“Whatever it is I do, huh?” his eyes sparkling with humour. “Well, I gotta go, hope you enjoy the game, sunshine. You too, Aria,” he lightly jogged towards the locker rooms, knowing that he only had a few minutes left to gear up. Though, somehow he felt lighter today than most other days with the knowledge of you in the crowd. His thumb absentmindedly brushed over the hair tie circling his wrist, and a fond, almost imperceptible smile bloomed across his face.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
Donghyuck was entrancing when he was in the zone, he glided across the ice gracefully, controlling the puck with such ease that had you captivated. It was like ice hockey was an art to him, not a game. Watching him for the first time, you finally understood the rave over his skills on ice. The timer buzzed, signalling the end of the game which for once, your school had easily won against your rivals all because of the arrival of Donghyuck–or Haechan when it comes to hockey. His teammates were patting his back for the hat trick he pulled off, and it was clear that he was basking in the thrill of the win.
“Oh shit,” Aria cursed as she texted on her phone, her lips turning down at the texts she was reading.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, y/n. I have a family emergency and I need to get home ASAP, do you think you’ll be fine getting home by yourself?” Aria said apologetically, rushing to grab her purse from the chair and standing up.
“Yeah I’ll be fine, you get home quick before the crowd gets any worse. Let me know if things are okay later,” you reassured. Gratitude softened her expression before Aria ran out of the arena. You sighed as you got up from your seat, slowly making your way out together with the rest of the crowd. Your headache was a dull throb now, the game managing to distract you from the pain.
Though, maybe you spoke too soon about being fine. The moment you stepped out of school, you were greeted by a downpour. You stood as still as a statue as you stared in horror at the droplets of water cascading down rapidly. Gathering your courage, you reached for the umbrella in your bag, only to realise that it wasn’t there. With a dawning realisation that you had forgotten to put it back in your bag after leaving it out to dry at home, an unrestrained whimper left your lips.
You began to spiral as you stood there under the shelter, just mere inches away from the rain. You should go back inside and wait it out, or wait for your dad to be done and catch a ride home. You could be patient enough to wait for all his post-game meetings to end. Despite all the logical course of action that your brain came up with, your feet refused to move. It was like standing on quicksand where your legs started to feel heavy, and it was a struggle to bring it up to simply walk.
Just when you were about to be on the brink of tears from your helplessness, a jacket was draped over your shoulders. The familiar crisp citrus scent with a hint of bergamot invaded your senses, the warmth from the jacket calming you down. “You’re shivering,” Donghyuck’s voice was a whisper right by your ear. “Are you okay?” His eyes flickered over your slightly dazed expression, while his hand held his umbrella.
“Wha– What are you doing here?” You choked out.
“Why else? It’s raining,” he spoke as if it were the most obvious explanation in the world.
“But isn’t my dad having a meeting with you guys, and having celebrations for the win after?” you questioned, turning to face him. You were surprised to see his frazzled demeanor, worry creased his eyebrows, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair while his gaze searched yours for any signs that you were panicking.
Only when he was pleased with what he saw, did he reply to your question. “I’ll go back later, you’re more important to me than some stupid game,” he clicked open his umbrella, gesturing with his hand for you to do the same whilst your mouth was slightly parted as your mind still reeled from his words. “Where’s your umbrella?”
“I forgot to bring mine,” you said sheepishly once you came back to your senses. Stupid boy with his ridiculously swoon-worthy mannerisms, you should have been given an award for how fast you recovered to be able to act as normal as you could bring yourself to be.
“We can share then,” he motioned for you to hold the umbrella for a moment, taking the headphones from around his neck and placing them over your ears. It was routine at this point, the fact that he never allowed you to just take it from him and put it over your ears yourself. With a hand resting on your waist, he pulled you close to him as he held the umbrella over the two of you, tilting it more towards you so that you’d be sheltered more.
The two of you walked together, you sticking close to Donghyuck’s side. Heat crept into your cheeks as a quiet realization settled over you—you couldn't remember the last time anyone had cared for you the way he did. Tugging the jacket closer to yourself as a particularly cold gust of wind blew, you were drowned in the fragrance that was uniquely his.
It didn’t take long before the two of you arrived at your door, his hand never leaving your waist until you were in the safety of the shelter over your porch.”Thank you,” you handed back his headphones, trying to remain calm although you were dreading being left alone in your house under this heavy rain.
Instead of leaving, Donghyuck reached a hand into his pocket, taking out an ipod with wired headphones connected to it and placing it in your hand. You looked down at the device in wonder, before looking back up at him in confusion. “I downloaded all the songs that I made inside, it’s grouped together in a playlist. And there is another playlist for covers by me of songs that you like, and there is also the songs that you like but with the original singers because I’m sure you’ll get sick of my voice eventually,” he rambled nervously, his eyes darting left and right, not really seeing you although you stood there in awe as you stared up at him. “It’s a gift. You don’t have to give it back to me, I just hope it will help you feel less alone when you’re home and it rains,” he finished, finally meeting your eyes.
You didn’t know what to say, tears were gathering in your eyes as you felt touched by his gift. You closed your fingers around it, knowing no words could ever capture how deeply grateful you were, you did the only thing that came to mind. Without giving yourself a chance to overthink it, you took a step forward, rising onto the tips of your toes, and brushing a soft, fleeting kiss against his cheek.
“Goodnight, Hyuckie,” you smiled shyly before quickly turning and entering your home with the ipod clutched tightly in your hand.
The boy stood there in a trance, eyes fixed on the door, his free hand coming up to lightly graze the spot that you kissed. He felt like he needed to go and see a doctor to make sure that he wasn’t having a heart attack, surely it wasn’t normal for one’s heart to pulse this fast and vigorously like the rapid beat of raindrops that fell onto his umbrella in waves.
Finally snapping out of his stupor, he turned to leave–but not before murmuring a quiet, “Goodnight, sunshine.” The wind carried the words away, though the smitten smile lingering on his lips remained.
Act VII. The rain became our music.
It was official, you and Aria had signed up for the end-of-year school dance, though very reluctantly on your part. You hadn’t dared ask Donghyuck if he would like to go together, afraid to embarrass yourself and ruin the friendship in the process.
However, your friendship with him might already be slowly crumbling. Your heart felt heavy in your chest, it felt like a knife was being continually twisted in your gut. Melancholy threatened to pull you under, words in your textbook seemed to jumble together as your focus kept drifting away to the gossip that had spread across the school.
Donghyuck said he already asked someone out to the dance.
Apparently he asked Seoyeon out.
Hockey god with the cheer captain? Now that’s quite a pair.
I’m surprised he didn’t ask y/n, I always thought they were dating.
Long story short, he asked someone and it wasn’t you. And that hurt more than you thought it would, considering that your feelings for him was already growing to become such a palpable thing. You tried to act normal when the two of you hung out, but it proved to get progressively more difficult to maintain the act the closer the day of the school dance came.
Aria was over at your house, her making herself comfortable on the beanbag in your room while you sat at your desk. Your head on the table, his voice filled your ears while you stared at the ipod. For the nth time that day, you let out a sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to the dance,” you mindlessly traced the frame of the device. “I probably can’t control my emotions if I saw him with someone else.”
“Screw him!” Aria declared, standing up from her position and walking over to you, removing the earphones and putting the device out of your reach. “You go for yourself and me of course, we go and have fun. Not go there just for a guy, alright?” she poked your side annoyingly until you grumbled out a reply in agreement. “Come on, let’s go shopping to find us the perfect dress for the occasion. I think we’ve wallowed in enough self-pity here.”
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
Time flew by quickly, and soon enough it was the day of the dance. The navy dress you wore skimmed your figure, cinching at the waist and flowing effortlessly to your ankles. A high slit traced its way up one side, stopping mid-thigh, revealing glimpses of your leg with every step. Your hair was curled and fell in loose waves, the makeup that Aria did for you enhanced your soft features, turning them a little bit sharper than usual.
You looked beautiful to say the least, as you twirled in front of the mirror to admire yourself. “Wow, you’re actually really talented,” you complimented her.
“Please, my effort is nothing if the person herself isn’t my prettiest best friend,” Aria grinned. “Aren’t you so glad you decided to go with me, dressing up is so fun. We literally look so hot.”
You would be lying if you said that you were not nervous about seeing Donghyuck there, and that you won’t be bolting out of the hall if you saw him with his hands around someone else. He wasn’t even yours and somehow it felt like some kind of betrayal, but jealousy never made sense.
You were a bundle of nerves as the two of you entered the school hall that had been turned into a ballroom, the place was already packed with people. Music was blasting on the speakers, some people danced on the dance floor in the middle while others were snacking and drinking by the standing tables at the side. The scene was quite intimidating for your relatively introverted self, you subtly hid behind Aria’s back as she led the two of you over to an empty table.
With your head down and a lack of awareness towards your surroundings, you didn’t notice the pair of eyes that was basically drilling two holes into your figure. Donghyuck stood still amongst his teammates, finding it impossible to drag his eyes away from you ever since you entered the room. Everything else was a distant hum as his eyes greedily devoured you in that dress.
You were so pretty it hurt.
His lips parted and his eyes glazed over as he watched your timid self trying to make yourself seem smaller in the crowd, not realising how absolutely stunning you look. The most beautiful one in the room, or in any room honestly. He could never get enough of you, and it was becoming painfully clear in the way his mind spun when you weren’t around, as if he was facing withdrawals from the loss of his drug. You were an addiction to him, nothing else came close to the way you made him feel–like he mattered.
His legs seem to have its own plans, not being able to help himself but gravitate in your direction, only stopping once he is standing directly behind you. “Fancy seeing you here, sunshine,” he tried to sound normal, but his words came out a little bit too breathless to be considered anything remotely normal. You turned to face him and he felt like he had been struck in the chest again, his breath hitching as he watched you up close. He could only blink as he stared in silence, all words dying on his tongue. When a hair fell loose, he instinctively raised his hand to tuck it back behind your ear. “Pretty,” he breathed, the word escaping him before he could stop it.
You pretended that you didn’t hear what he just said, and also pretended to be blind towards the awestruck look on his face as he kept staring at you. A light flush coloured your cheeks at his scrutiny. He was dressed rather elegantly himself, the top button of his dress shirt undone making him messy yet devastatingly attractive. However, you picked yourself up and managed to get the words that had been in the back of your mind out. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your date? I don’t think she would be very happy if you came to the dance and went to talk to another girl,” you bit out, arms crossed over your chest as you tilted your head and an icy look overshadowed your face.
His face twisted in confusion at your words, finally sobering up and dragging his eyes up from the glimpse of your leg at the slit of your dress to your eyes. “What do you mean? I didn’t ask anybody out,” he blinked, baffled by your cold statement. “You should know better than to listen to the rumours people say about me all the time.”
“You…didnt?” you echoed, all the tension from the past week leaving your body. He shook his head in confirmation, frowning at the idea that you thought he could even spare a glance for any other girl when he had you.
“Is that why you’ve been so distant lately?” He took a step closer to you like he couldn’t help himself. The faint scent of vanilla enveloped him, soft and comforting, and suddenly it was all he could think about. You, you, you, you, his mind kept chanting, he felt delirious from being in your presence.
“Well…I though–”
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he cut you off, not being able to take it anymore, he needed and wanted you alone. Maybe it was selfish but he wanted you all to himself, every day and every second, though the urge seems to be especially maddening tonight. Something about you in that dress was intoxicating, his mind reeling from the intrinsic need to have you, to do so many forbidden things that he shouldn’t be doing to a girl who was the daughter of his coach. “Sorry Aria, I’m stealing her from you. Have fun though!” he made sure to acknowledge your friend, waving one hand and lacing his other together with yours before dragging you out of the place.
He didn’t just stop in the hallway, he continued to pull you in the direction of the stairs, up and up until it became clear that the two of you were headed to the rooftop. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just drag me out of the event and leave Aria alone, I literally came here with her for christ sakes. I feel so bad now. What are we even going to do on the ro–” you yelped in surprise when Donghyuck turned around just before the door to the rooftop, a wild sort of look glazed over his eyes.
“Will you dance with me?” His question was sweet and simple, desperation seeping into his voice. You felt a thousand butterflies explode in your stomach. Your eyes widening in surprise as he stretched a hand out for you to accept. Tentatively, you placed your hand in his and he grinned widely at that, his dimples making an appearance at the corners of his mouth. “Do you trust me?” His question came as a quiet murmur, and with you giving a short nod he opened the door to the rooftop and pulled you out before you could even process why he even asked you such a strange question.
Your answer became clear when the first drops of rain touched your face, it wasn’t heavy but it was somewhere between a drizzle and a light rain. You worried your lip as you kept up with him, bringing you to the middle of the roof. He pulled you towards him, his other hand coming to your waist. “Is this okay?” He asked, eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. “I thought maybe leaving a happy memory under the rain could dissolve some of that fear of yours.”
You smiled at that. He was always caring for you. You brought both your arms around his neck, meeting his eyes and softly replied, “It’s perfect.”
The drops of rain that slowly drenched you didn’t really bother you as much as they normally would, for once your fear of the rain seemed to be set aside, a sense of tranquility surprisingly encapsulated the atmosphere instead. The two of you didn’t need any music, the song of the raindrops was sufficient enough. It was a heady feeling as you stared up at him, your eyes sparkling with admiration that Donghyuck didn’t miss, and he felt like his heart was going to explode.
The tension between the two of you was overwhelming as you slow danced, no words were spoken and yet it felt like there was a million words being exchanged amidst the silence. Your eyes subtly darted from his eyes to his parted lips, and a suddenly staggering urge to kiss him pulsed through your blood.
He was no better, his mind was spinning with thoughts about kissing you too, the pink lipstick you had on made it all the more tempting. His hand came up from your waist, trailing across the smooth skin of your bare shoulders before cupping your cheek. He lifted your head up slightly, his thumb gingerly traced your bottom lip. “Soft,” he breathed, more to himself than anything, his eyes fixated on his thumb that kept lightly dragging back and forth across your lip like he couldn’t bring himself to stop. You held your breath at his intimate touch, waiting with a bated breath for what he was going to do next. “May I kiss you?” He finally asked, his eyes dragging to meet yours with desperation laced in them, like he was close to losing the last bit of self-restraint over his animalistic needs.
Your only reply was to lean closer to him, your lips parting in anticipation, and that was all the indication he needed. Without another wasted second, his mouth met yours. The kiss was gentle, delicate and filled with every little bit of longing the two of you had for each other. The softness of your lips against his, the taste of berries from your lip balm and the vanilla fragrance that seemed even stronger now caused the boy to feel dizzy. He was drowning in you, and he didn’t think that there was a better way to die than this. His thumb stroked your cheekbone as his mouth kept taking and taking, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss, drawing out every last bit of sensation from you with an eagerness he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. He knew he was in deep trouble, because deep down, he knew that one taste was never going to be enough when it came to you.
Eventually, the two of you broke apart, and the world came back into focus. The rain was heavier now, basically beating down on you, making your dress stick to your skin. Your lungs heaved as you inhaled air in, trying to get back to your senses after that mind-altering kiss. Your mused hair, flushed cheeks and swollen lips only seemed to make you look even more like a goddess in his eyes. He wanted so badly to repeat everything that just happened again, but he knew the rain was getting too heavy to stay outside for long. With a gentle hand on your lower back, he guided you back indoors, the rooftop door closed with a loud bang and silence followed as the noise outside faded.
The two of you were drenched, your makeup smudged and your skin sticky. You felt disgusting and yet you’ve never felt more beautiful standing there with all of Donghyuck’s attention on you as if he couldn’t bear to stop looking at you, like it physically hurts to look away. A bashful smile curved the corners of your lips, feeling slightly flustered after everything that had went down.
“Thank you for that, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that serene while standing under the rain before,” you broke the silence, tilting your head down as you looked at your feet. “You do a lot for me,” you commented, as if it was just a simple observation. His fingers gently cradled your chin, tilting your face back up until your eyes met his. There was a mixture of emotions in his eyes, tenderness and something else–something profound, something so deep that you were too afraid to name.
“I’d do anything for you.”
Act VIII. We weren’t meant to last–only to fall like rain, soft and fleeting.
The next few days passed in bliss, ever since the first kiss, it led to many more. Sweet, innocent pecks when Donghyuck saw you like he couldn’t help himself. There were other times when the kiss deepened until you felt it in the very core of your being, he kissed like he wanted to leave a permanent imprint of himself on you. And yet, the two of you still weren’t together officially, and honestly, you didn’t even know what the two of you were anymore. Friends didn’t kiss, and yet he didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. It was confusing but you decided to let it go and watch how things play out.
Though, maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Gossip spread like a plague, with many catching on to the development of your friendship with Donghyuck, some even witnessing the kisses that you two shared. There had always been gossip, you just hadn’t realise how detrimental these particular ones were.
It was gloomy outside when you reached home one day, your dad was sat on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed with a troubled expression on his face as he watched something on his phone. “I’m home, dad,” you announced as you entered the living room.
“Come here,” his tone was serious, the kind that came before a scolding. The moment you settled down beside him, he turned and showed you the video playing on his phone. Your shoulders stiffened, your eyes widening and ears growing hot when you realised what he was watching. A video. One of you and Donghyuck kissing right by a secluded corner beside the lockers. “I might only be a coach for the ice hockey team but by no means does that mean I am unaware of what goes on in school, nor am I oblivious to what my players do outside of their time on the rink.”
“We…We’re just…” You trailed off, at a loss for words.
“Just what? Fooling around? Dating?”
“No! We’re not dating, I–I don’t know…One thing just led to another and it just…happened,” you played with your fingers nervously, scared of your father’s wrath that you knew was coming.
“Good,” that word surprised you causing your eyes to shoot up to his. “It’s not too late to cut things off with him yet,” you dad finished. It wasn’t his words that caused your heart to shatter, it was the blatantly clear disapproval he had towards your relationship with Donghyuck. The way he so easily asked you to break things off like anything the two of you had was just a minor obstacle, a temporary setback.
“Why would I do that? I really like him, dad,” you argued, standing on your feet as you started getting restless. In fact, you were so sure that your feelings were progressing towards a very different ‘L’ word.
“It’s for the best. Haechan is one of the best players right now, in fact he might even be the best. Many coaches have came to me asking about him and he is most likely on his way to be the first draft pick in the NHL. He is not going to stay, y/n,” his last words were spoken quietly, almost pitifully. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, it’s better to end things off now when it is still fresh or you’re going to face an avalanche worth of melancholy later on.”
“Can I at least be friends with him?” Your fists clenched, your whole body had gone numb as you processed your dad’s words.
“Alright. Just promise me you won’t go any further than that?” Your dad raised his pinky, the gesture so familiar, the action that seals any pact you two made ever since you were a child. With a shaky finger, you raised your own to his, interlocking them together.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
It was painful, to say the least. At first, you thought it would be fine if everything just went back to how it was before. But it became very much clear after every turn of your head just when Donghyuck was leaning in to kiss you, or the very lame excuses you made that it was harder than it seemed. Every glimpse of hurt you saw in his eyes, which he quickly composed himself of, was like a punch to your gut.
You hated that look on him.
It went on for close to two weeks, today however, he seemed to have had enough. The two of you stood right outside the school main doors, under the shelter, you bracing for the rain again. You frowned at the storm, it was much much heavier than normal, so much so that the path was barely visible.
“Well, are you ready, sunshine?” He gestured towards the incoming warzone. “It’ll be fine as long as I’m here,” he winked, an easy, reassuring smile on his lips. You glanced at him nervously before nodding, and Donghyuck thought it was the perfect time to give you an encouraging peck. He leaned down, aiming for your lips, but at the very last second, you turned your head causing him to land on your cheek instead. His fist clenched as his eyes shined with hurt, disappointment, rage. “What’s wrong?” He bit out.
“What do you mean?” You made an attempt to act oblivious, hoping he’d buy the act though you knew that was futile. You knew you had pushed him to his limits.
“Don’t go pretending that nothing is wrong, you’ve been constantly rejecting me. I thought things were going so well, did I do something wrong? Is there any way I can fix it? Is there any way I can bring back the god damn eyes that looked at me like they wanted me as badly as I wanted them?” His breathing came in short huffs, his words coming out aggressive as the accumulated wells of hurt he tried to bury floated to the surface. It hurt even more when you started pulling away the moment he was ready to formally ask you out, to be his. You were speechless, your hands fell weakly to your sides, your umbrella falling to the floor though you didn’t make a move to pick it up. “Please, just tell me what to do. I said I would do anything for you and I meant it. If you want me to transfer schools to avoid all the gossips, I would. If you want me to tell every god damn person in that school to stop giving you the cold shoulder, I would. If you wanted me to quit the god damn hockey team just so that there is no conflict of interest, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
You flinched at the last bit, it hit too close to home. You didn’t want him to give up his future for you, and if he was such a global talent at hockey, you can’t possibly let him just give it up for you.
“Y/n, please. I don’t care what it is, just tell me what I can do to get you back,” he pleaded, practically begging for an ounce of what transpired that night in the rain. For the admiration, affection, perhaps a tinge of love that he knew intrinsically sparkled in your eyes that day. Now it seemed overshadowed by something else, a load of reluctance and uncertainty that clouded your eyes. Cold. Blank. That was what he would describe it, and he absolutely hated it. “Please,” he breathed, one last ditch attempt at pulling the strings.
“I…I can’t do this anymore,” your words cracked something in him, he felt like his heart was being sucked out of his body, the beats slowing like it was going to be his last.
“Is this because you’re scared? Or is this about the rumours, or your dad? Is that it, you’re just going to give it up just like that? All of a sudden?” His jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein popped in his neck. “Do you seriously think we can go back to before the kiss happened?”
Tears clouded your vision, you hated how hard he was making this for you. You didn’t recognise him anymore, his walls were so clearly built up to shield himself against whatever you were throwing his way, his eyes a sea of emptiness. “I’m just saying we’re better off as friends,” your fist clenched by your sides as you hissed the words out.
“So you’re saying it meant nothing to you?” His voice came out steady although inside he felt like his world was crumbling. He couldn’t imagine not being something more with you, being friends just wasn’t going to cut it anymore. “I was just a fling, is that it?” He let out a bitter laugh.
“No! Of course not, you’re not a fling.”
“Then why do you want to go back to being just friends?”
“I told you, I can’t do this anymore,” you pursed your lips, fighting back the tears that threatened to run down your cheeks. It was practically a shouting match now, the two of your voices growing louder while the rain seemed to get progressively heavier at the same time. It was ironic how fitting the weather was to your current situation. “I’m just saying we should go back to being friends. We’re better off being friends.”
“So what you’re trying to say is that we should be friends that don’t kiss, friends that don’t know the taste of the other’s lips, friends that walk together whenever it rained and pretend like everything in the past never happened. A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” He said darkly, fingers running through his hair in exasperation. He hated to see the tears in your eyes, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you right now. Not when his own heart was breaking, not when a huge part of him was being ripped out and torn to pieces. A knife twisting in his ribs and stabbing over and over again, he never felt this kind of agony before.
“No!,” You practically shouted the word out, tears were streaming down your face. You hated doing this to him, the fragile bond between the two of you seemed to be breaking with every word. “What I’m saying, Donghyuck, is that it is friends or nothing,” your last word came out harsh, so much so that you saw him physically recoil.
You were too overwhelmed by your emotions to hear his response, you quickly lowered yourself to pick up your umbrella. Opening it as quickly as you could, you ran off into the storm back home, without any headphones, and without him.
Act IX. It rains, and you’re not there anymore.
Friends or nothing.
Friends or nothing.
Friends or nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Donghyuck’s mind spiralled as it kept replaying your last words, spoken with such finality that he knew you were being serious. He knew he would be better off without you if that were the case. Surely anything would be better than being your friend. The friend who stood by your side. The friend who watched you fall in love with someone else. The friend who smiled, laughed and joked around with you while pretending that everything was okay, like he wasn’t already so deeply in love with you he couldn’t see any other options anymore. The friend who was relegated to stay by the sidelines, watching someone else take your hand in marriage, kiss you, love you, have a future with you like he didn’t want all of that for himself. The friend who would be loyal and content with just being there, keeping all of his urges to commit murder against the hypothetical ‘other man’ and hide the fact that he wanted to get on his knees and beg. Beg and beg and beg for you to see him.
And yet despite all the hurt that would come with simply being your friend, losing you altogether was probably ten times worse. It could be better, he won’t see you, won’t give in to the overpowering feelings he had for you, and be able to move on, eventually. Who was he kidding? He knew you were it for him, there will never be ‘moving on from you’ in his books.
If he had better self-restraint when it came to you, he’d probably make better decisions. But that was the thing about drugs, it clouded your judgement, and all you could think about was your next hit.
That was why despite the hurt, anger, resentment at the ultimatum you had given him, he still followed behind you that day in the rain, after your fight. Because in spite of everything, his soul couldn’t live without you, and it couldn’t help but worry about you. He walked a few paces away, not close enough for you to feel his presence but enough for him to make sure that you got home safe. And even with the rift between the two of you, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride from the fact that you got home by yourself, without music, without him, and with the heavy storm. Though it scared him to think that the day has came where you didn’t need him anymore, when he very much needed you like you were his oxygen.
It wasn’t really a hard choice when it came to choosing between having you as a friend or not having you at all. In a heartbeat, he would choose to be your friend. You had so thoroughly altered his entire system that he’d rather have scraps of you, just enough to get a high than have nothing at all.
For a world without you, wasn’t a world at all.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
You thought it’d be easier. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and every night since then, mourning for what could have potentially been such a beautiful, delicate thing that was so easily destroyed in the span of a day.
You selfishly wished that he would choose to have nothing to do with you, to hate you so much that he’d avoid you like a plague, wouldn’t even spare a glance at you anymore and open his eyes to see the rest of the plethora of much beautiful girls vying for his attention.You wished so badly that he would choose to want nothing to do with you anymore so that it made things easier, easier to forget about him, easier to forget how easy it had been to drown in his affection. But no, he had to be his stupidly understanding and selfless self, and choose to continue being your friend.
He appeared by your side like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t hurt him in inexcusable ways with your words, like you hadn’t broken something in him since the day you started rejecting his advances. He never mentioned a single thing about that day, not the way he stopped calling you ‘sunshine’ in the entirety of your shouting match, nor the way he shook with rage you had never imagined he’d be capable of when he was normally so jubilant.
However, everything did change after that day, and you couldn’t pretend that it didn’t happen as easily as he did. So you continued to avoid him, not knowing how to act nor be his friend anymore, not knowing how to respond to his casual teasing when there was some truth in them.
You started to hang out with Aria again, not daring to go up to the rooftop for lunch with him as usual. Not there. Anywhere but the place where everything began, the place that was filled with only the happiest memories. It felt too fragile to pollute with such negativity that you seemed to feel on the daily now.
Your best friend tried her best to cheer you up, despite not knowing what was going on between you two. You only vaguely summarised, excluding the part on your agreement with your dad, which she would definitely say to “screw that shit,” and tell you to do the exact opposite of what you promised. You felt lethargic in school, like your body was there but your mind somewhere else, every action was auto-pilot and that was probably the only reason you were still surviving school.
Despite giving Donghyuck an option to be friends, you clearly weren’t prepared for the case that he did choose that. It hurt too much to see him, he embodied everything you yearned for, wanted, loved, and then lost. On rainy days, you quickly left on your own. On days where they had practice and you were catching a ride home with your dad, you waited for him in the car.
On nights where it rained, you succumbed to your compulsions. The earbuds in your ears, ipod clutched tightly in your hand and the jacket that you never returned wrapped tightly around you. His voice flowed melodiously through your ears, and although it hurt, it was comforting all the same. The sound of his hum like a soft caress on your skin, and when you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine him right behind you, singing, his breath tickling the back of your neck. Sometimes, it felt so real that you would shoot up from bed and look around, only for reality to wash over you.
He would never do that to you. Friends didn’t sing to each other while being a hair’s breadth away. It was an awful reality to live with but it was the choice you had made.
Sometimes you wished that you could go back in time to when the two of you were dancing contentedly on the rooftop, freeze time then and there. You would have begged for the rain to never cease despite your fear of it. The rain had always felt friendlier with him there.
In school, you did a good job with avoiding Donghyuck, although he tried very hard to strike a conversation with you or to simply stay by your side. You never gave him the time of day. You could tell that every excuse you gave wounded him, though he shoved his feelings down before it could take root, giving a nonchalant shrug before saying a simple,”maybe next time then,” after every rejection.
The ridiculously bewitched part of you was relieved that he was still there when you needed him, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to spend more time with him other than the few short ones you had.
It was so clearly your fault, but deep down, you knew that eventually he would reach his limit of his tolerance for you again. And this time, he would inevitably leave you. For good.
Act X. Fear the rain, but not me. Anything but me.
Donghyuck didn’t know what to do anymore. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him, he was sluggish at practice, he barely had an appetite for food, the constant pressure in his chest refused to cease. He felt like dying.
He was a ball of anxiety, the only thing that seemed to remotely help was your hair tie on his wrist, the hair tie that he never took off ever since he worn it. He fiddled with it, his eyes absentmindedly stared at it, unconsciously tracing the length of it with his fingers as his mind filled with thoughts about you. You. It always all came back to you.
You were life and death itself.
He didn’t understand why, what he did wrong, why you wouldn’t let him hang out with you anymore. He didn’t know what hurt more, you making excuses not to spend an extended period of time with him or the fact that you seemed to change your mind about even being his friend. He was sick and tired of your mixed signals, so, so god damn tired. He didn’t want to be a hockey god anymore, he didn’t want to have all this pretentious people vying for his attention like being around him would suddenly give them a boost in their status quo.
He wanted to stop being Haechan. He wanted to scream that he was just a normal boy like the rest of them, that he could lead a normal life, fall in love with a girl, date her, lose himself in her. More importantly, he wanted to be brave enough to give up hockey altogether and pursue his secret little hobby in music as a career instead. A hobby that only you knew about.
But he didn’t want to do any of that anymore, not if you weren’t there by his side. Not if you refused to look at him in the eye anymore, not if you dismissed him so easily like he didn’t matter.
“I’m so sorry, Donghyuck, I have a lot to study, I need to catch up with my work in the library later,” you bit the bottom of your lip, hand gripping your books tightly to your chest. Your eyes looked past him, to the wall behind, not really seeing him despite him being right in front of you.
His fists clenched tightly, another fragment of his heart chipping away. Why did he even bother anymore? Why couldn’t he just read the room and leave you alone, avoid you like you did so easily to him? Why can’t he just stop hoping that today might be the day where you would finally try to bridge the gap that had grown between you two, to go back to some semblance of a friendship that had first formed under the rain. His soft spot for you was turning into his biggest weakness, the fact that he would willingly take jabs after jabs for you although he was slowly losing himself in the process. But despite every word in his mind that wanted to plead with you for something, anything. He tuned it all out, bottling it up and throwing it deep down somewhere in the back of his mind so that he can let it all out later when he was alone.
He gave a forced smile, eyes skimming over your face, landing on your lips for a second longer in longing. “Okay then, hope you have a good study session,” he forced the words out of his lips, taking a step back and turning the corner so that he didn’t have to look at you any longer than what he could take without touching you.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
You lied. You weren’t headed to the library at all. You were headed home, straight home right after the last bell rang. You were so exhausted, so tired from everything. So mentally and physically drained that you walked home without hesitation despite the rain. You did realise that you weren’t scared of it anymore, it didn’t intimidate you.
You didn’t know when or how but your perception of the rain slowly changed, instead of a monstrous thing, it was quiet, comforting yet relentless in a way that echoed your own feelings. It was more of a companion now.
You were just one step from entering your porch when you impulsively decided that you didn’t really want to go inside and wallow in your feelings so soon. You looked up at the sky, letting your umbrella drop to the ground and basking in the way the droplets of water soaked you. You closed your eyes, imagining that day on the rooftop where everything felt so simple. Like the rain wasn’t that big of a deal as you’ve made it out to be since young.
“When are you going to stop avoiding me?” A familiar voice drifted to your ears, it was broken, bitter. Your eyes shot open as you saw him standing there, one fist clenched while the other held his umbrella over his head.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
A hollow laugh escaped him, his eyes emotionless, blank. “Put me out of my misery, y/n.” A pause. “I told you already, I would do anything for you. If it hurts too much to have me as a friend just tell me to leave, to never spare another glance at you, to leave any room once you enter, to never dare to even think about your name in my head ever again.”
“But…but I don’t want any of that,” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push back all the pain that came from looking at the shell of himself, a shell that you had caused.
A wild look crossed his eyes, borderline maniacal. “Stop giving me mixed signals. Stop giving me hope that I can do something to change the outcome. Stop implying that I have a chance to get you back. Just stop. I can only handle so much before I fucking break, y/n,” his voice cracked, defeated tears escaped his eyes, running down his cheeks. The vulnerability in his eyes so palpable that you couldn’t breathe. “Just tell me that you want me gone,” his words came in a whisper, carried by the wind.
He didn’t even realise that he had instinctively inched closer to you, now holding his umbrella over you both, because that stupid soft spot for you was still concerned about you getting sick from being drenched in the rain. “I can’t,” you admitted.
“You can’t?” He paused. “Then tell me that you want me to be your friend.” Silence. “Oh for goodness sake, y/n. What do you want from me.” Words were lost on you, although the answer to that question easily came to the forefront of your mind, the one thing that you couldn’t possibly have with him. “You just want me to continue being your little puppet, is that it? For me to just be conveniently there for you all the time, but never letting me come anywhere close to you,” he laughed humourlessly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how much more I can take if that is the case. It fucking sucks being just there, you being within reach and yet barely close enough to touch.”
You hated all of this, the way he was headed towards self-destruction, the way he was degrading himself and never once saying a single bad thing about you. Like he was the one who needed to be better for you, to be patient, to do whatever you asked, to be fixed just so that he can have you. Maybe it was all of these facts that made your resolve crumble, a choked sob escaping your lips and the moment one came out, everything else escaped. Tears cascaded down your cheeks as rapidly as the rain poured, your breath coming in short, choked huffs.
“Sunshine?” His voice was so soft, gentle. Like in spite of all his hurt, he couldn’t bear to witness you being hurt, being converted to a sobbing mess because of him. Each short gasp and sob was like a stab to his heart.
“I want a relationship with you. I can never be anything less than lovers with you. I can’t even breathe without you sometimes, while other times, just the knowledge of you being alive somewhere else in the world makes breathing easier,” your confession came out in a rush, lips trembling. “But I can’t have you because you are going to be this hockey legend superstar, and you’ll be going to the leagues and probably moving to America to play professionally. And I can’t possibly be the reason that you lose all of those amazing opportunities, even if it hurts, if it meant that you’ll be successful, everything would be worth it.”
A dawning realisation settled over Donghyuck, all his heightened emotions expelled from him at your words, his eyes softening and the tension in his body dissolving. “Oh, my selfless sunshine,” his free hand came to caress your cheek, tilting your head up until you met his eyes. His thumb tenderly wiped away your tears. “Was that what your dad told you?” He mused, watching as your head nodded slightly in his hand. “Then I would tell you that I never had any plans to play hockey professionally in the first place. That my dreams were always to create my own music, to let my loved ones listen to them, to see the strength and smiles on people’s faces that my music brings. That i’ve already been scouted by companies for my music because I’m not just talented in hockey, I guess I kind of have a talent at that too.”
Your mouth parted in awe as you listened to him speak, all while he unconsciously ran his fingers through your hair to smoothen it. “You never told me that before,” you mumbled, eyes closing at the wave of tranquility his touch brought.
“Because I don’t talk about it with anyone. I’ve only allowed you to listen to them, other than the producers who are analysing my work, no one else has ever heard my songs before. And none of them have heard more of my songs than you have,” a sweet smile occupied his face. “I guess I had a thing for you since the first time we met, considering I already let you hear one of mine before I even knew your name.”
The rain had slowed to a low drizzle now, the sun making a slight appearance over the dark clouds. “So what now? I think you will need to get through my dad if we are going to establish any labels, and there is a high chance my dad is never going to approve of us being together,” you sighed.
“Do you want a relationship with me?” He brought his umbrella down now, the rain having completely halted. You nodded firmly. “Then I’ll slowly convince your dad that I’m the one for you. I told you I’d do anything you want, and if you want me by your side forever, then that’s where I’ll be, regardless of what your dad thinks.”
“And if I want a hug right now?”
“Then you’ll get a hug,” his arms circled around your waist, your soaked shirt making him damp. He didn’t care, only pulling you closer to his chest, your head tucked under his chin. Your own arms came around his waist as well, and it felt like you could finally breathe again. Your ear rested over his heart, listening to it beat, rhythmic and soothing just like his voice.
“Hey, look! It’s a rainbow!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the sky excitedly. Your eyes switching from the view and back to the boy who only stared at you fondly.
Your heart warmed, understanding slowly creeping in that a world without him as your lover was never an option in the first place. After all, he helped you get over your fear of the rain, through his quiet actions, the subtle encouragement. The quiet devotion that he had towards you, you had always known that even while you walked alone in the rain, he was never far behind. The shadow of his back as he walked away that you couldn’t resist staring at every rainy day from the peephole at your front door the moment you enter your house. It was silly that he could think that you would never notice him, from the reflection of security cameras along the way, there was always glimpses of him not far behind. The warmth of his devotion like a soft caress at your lower back, guiding you and pushing you to walk home. Always watching, always worrying, always caring for you, even when he was mad and hurting.
And then you knew. You never truly feared the rain. It was the loneliness of walking through it by yourself, getting lost amidst the mistiness that came with the pouring droplets, no one being there to help.
But knowing he was there, always just a step behind you, was enough.
summary: a disastrous recoupling after Casa Amor leaves you and Haechan single and vulnerable. Unbeknownst to the two of you, your moments during Unseen Bits are making the two of you quite popular among the viewers! There's no way the two of you are leaving!
word count: 4.2k
a/n: I think it's too early for me to have favorites... but I find myself obsessed with these two... In case you wonder what villa layout I'm using, I'm going based on the USA villa. Enjoy and if you want to get a read on the rest of 127's time in the villa, check it out here!
dividers from dollywons and robinavitchslut
"Haechan and Dean," Ariana states tensely before stating your name with eerie calmness, "and Vanessa. Since your original partners have chosen to switch and recouple after Casa Amor, you are now left single and vulnerable."
You grip Vanessa's hand tightly, your palms sweaty but you're not particularly dreading going home. You've had a good summer— a great summer even! You haven't found romantic love, but that's fine, you've found friends that you know you'll have for life. That's better than winning you think.
You're mentally preparing your farewell, trying to come up with a speech that will be able to encompass the amazing time you've spent here. You know that when it comes down to a vote, Vanessa will be saved over you. She had a good connection with Jamie before Casa Amor, albeit a bit rocky in the days leading up, but it's more than you can say. You were coupled up with Gabriel in a friendship couple. Before that you were with Jaden, and before him Jamie. Nothing was clicking and you weren't sure anything would. Rather than forcing a connection to stay, you'd prefer to leave on a high note while single if it came down to it.
"But your journeys might not be over yet," Ariana continues after a tense minute of charged silence. "Your future in the villa will be in the hands of the viewers."
You gasp, eyes alight with shock as the fire pit in front of you bursts into whispers and murmurs of surprise.
Ariana smiles knowingly, "I'll be back at the end of the week. Bye, islanders."
"I can't believe this," Vanessa exhales as she pulls you into a tight embrace.
You hug her tightly, laughing in relief of your situation, "safe for a little while at least. You'll be saved, I know it."
"I don't know," she whispers sadly, eyes darting over to her former partner Jamie. Jamie who stands beside his new partner Claire.
The girls surge toward the two of you, hugging you both tightly in a huge group hug. You laugh brightly, wiping away happy tears as you lean into your best friend, Samira.
"If you leave," she whispers passionately, "I'll go with you."
"That makes three of us," you hear a male voice whisper loudly, making you jump in Samira's arms.
There, at eye level, you're met with the face of your most unexpected friend this summer, Haechan. There's a smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes as he extends his hand to you. You take it and let yourself melt into his chest, sniffling softly. He rubs your back comfortingly, "I have a plan for us."
A watery laugh is pulled out of your chest as you pull away from the hug and use your hands to wipe away your tears, "do I even want to know?"
"I'll propose to you. There's no way the viewers will vote out an engaged couple. Think of all the drama we'd bring! And if we say we'll get married at the finale, we have a secure spot. What do you think?"
"I think you're an idiot," you roll your eyes playfully, walking away from the crowded deck around the fire pit in favor of the empty beauty room. The rest of the girls slowly join you, introductions and small talk is made with the new Casa Amor girls.
You take your time, allowing the stress from the night's recoupling to melt from your muscles with every swipe of your makeup wipe against your face and every drag of your comb through your hair.
You're completely wiped out by the end of the night, uncharacteristically quiet as you slip into your bed. Your new bed is comfortable, but not nearly as comfortable as the actual bed you once claimed as your own. That bed is now labeled with Gabriel and Sabrina's name, the couple cuddling beneath the covers.
Dean has already disappeared to his makeshift bed in the Speakeasy, leaving behind his noisy roommate for the night. Haechan is still busy making his rounds to each of the guys for an obnoxious cuddle or an annoying kiss upon their cheeks to get a reaction. He stands in the doorway, looks at you and bids you goodnight with a playful wink and a whispered, "good night, missus."
Unseen Bits Week 1
You breathe out a nervous breath as you sink down from the open sun roof of the Jeep. In the sports car parked beside your own, the guy jumps out and pulls open your door with an excited grin, "hi there."
You take a second to stare at him first, feeling your heart skip a beat at the sight of the man. His skin is sun kissed with his dark hair styled off his forehead to reveal more of his pretty face. Blinking harshly, you take his outstretched hand and step out of the Jeep with a smile. Surely, you could blame it on your nerves, but realistically you know it's because the heels you're wearing are thinner than you're comfortable with. You go down after a single step, falling to your hands and knees with a shout,"Oh, motherfucker!"
Your male companion is laughing gleefully beside you, earning a glare from over your shoulder. He's clutching his sides, tears glistening in his eyes before he finally reaches a hand out to help you up, "actually, I prefer to be called Haechan."
"I stand by my previous title," you bite, tugging your hand out of his own once you're steady on your feet, "you didn't even try to hide your laughter, you menace."
"It was objectively funny, lovely. I would hardly be considered a human if I didn't laugh," Haechan explains as he rushes to catch up to you.
"You know the eggs are less likely to burn if you don't cook them on high," you state from your spot behind the counter, popping a blueberry into your mouth.
"Oh, really?!" Haechan asks sarcastically, "I didn't realize I was in the presence of a professional chef!"
"It doesn't take a professional chef to see that the pan is too hot! No wonder Vanessa never eats the eggs or pancakes you bring her! They're always fucking burnt to a crisp!"
He gasps, pointing the spatula at you, "they're not burnt. I just give them a little color. Brown is beautiful."
You smack the spatula away from your face, "is that your excuse for leaving eggshells in her breakfast as well?"
"Protein!" He screeches defensively as he rounds the corner to get in your face.
You place your hands on his shoulders and shove him away with a laugh, "Get away from me! Focus on the food!"
You groan softly as you lower yourself into a beanbag with the rest of the girls. You kick your sandals away and lower your sunglasses for some subtlety. Though, with the way you and the girls have arranged yourselves for your daily "gossip session," it's quite obvious what you're all really doing. How sneaky do you all really think you are when you're all barely ten feet away from the gym and all facing in said direction?
"Good morning, ladies," Rosie mumbles as she plops into a vibrant pink and orange bean bag.
"A very good morning indeed," Lola drawls lowly before biting her bottom lip.
Vanessa plops onto the grass as Samira snags the last beanbag. "So, any updates for you girls?" Vanessa asks, "sparks? Kisses? Wandering hands?"
"Shh!" Samira is quick to chide, her jaw dropping in shock as she watches her partner, Jaden, do pull ups on the bar. His muscular back on full display, shiny with sweat and sunscreen.
"Oh my goodness," Rosie hums appreciatively while hooking a finger onto a leg of her sunglasses to slide them down the bridge of her nose.
Vanessa whines, a pout on her face as she kicks Rosie's beanbag, "it's not fair! We call this gossip time and we don't even gossip. My partner isn't even over there and it doesn't feel right to ogle your men."
"Please! I insist!" You exclaim as you reach forward to shake her arm, "look at my partner Jamie all you want. It would be a crime to let such a fine specimen go unadmired. Look at his arms!"
The girls all murmur appreciatively, all gazes now fixed on your muscled partner as his biceps bulge with each curl of the weight. You let your eyes drag over each chiseled line of Jamie's body before our eyes naturally trail over to he next guy who is doing curl ups on the bench.
"You know," a grating voice starts to your left, "you guys could not be more obvious about your ogling."
You roll your eyes, pulling you gaze away from the gym to look at the owner of said annoying voice, "you could be nice and join them, give us more to look at. That would be so kind of you, Haechan."
"God, no. Could you imagine how sore I'd be after?" He scoffs, "plus, this is the only time I get to flirt with all their partners without having to worry about them beating me up."
Samira's jaw drops as a shocked laugh escapes her, "you don't flirt with anyone! You stand in the kitchen and drink a full blender's worth of your smoothies until they're done."
"And here I was about to compliment your gorgeous bikinis. Don't get too ahead of yourself, Sami," Haechan chides with a patronizing smirk and a wink.
Week 2
"Do you guys miss Christmas time?" You ask, the straw of your water bottle wedged at the corner of your mouth.
Samira snorts out a laugh, "Christmas is the furthest thing from my mind when I'm on vacation in Fiji surrounded by hot men."
"I miss scrolling on my for you page and watching people bake Christmas desserts in June," you whine dramatically, throwing your legs over Samira's lap.
Haechan, who was napping on the bench on the opposite side of the gazebo jumps up with unexpected energy, "I really can't stay…"
Samira groans, "don't start."
You smile mischievously, setting your water bottle beside you before you jump to your feet, "but, baby, it's cold outside."
"I've got to go away," Haechan continues to sing, tugging you toward him to sway beside him.
"But, baby, it's cold outside," you carry on, taking the water bottle from his hand to use it as a microphone.
The two of you continue through the song with unplanned but somehow very coordinated choreography. You both do a horrible rendition of tap dancing, which becomes ballet, and then crumping that heavily contradict the spirit of the song you're both singing, sending everyone under the gazebo into bouts of hearty laughter. Still, you and Haechan persist, singing in dramatic low tones and shaky falsettos.
"Baby, it's cold outside!" You and Haechan end in unison, though not in harmony as you both catch your breath. Hand in hand, you both bend into deep, twin bows.
With a long pull from the water bottle in your hand you pant tiredly, "I don't think they'll be able to use our performance— royalties."
Samira cackles loudly, kicking her legs out, "please, you two sounded like two choking geese! There's no way it even gets close to copyright!"
"That's rude," Haechan snaps, taking his water bottle from your hand.
It's quiet for a few moments before you hear him ask, "hey, if we both just drank from the same water bottle, we basically kissed, right?"
"In your perverted, wet dreams, Haechan," you scoff as you slide your feet into your sandals.
You make it half way to the stairs before you turn around to glare at Haechan, "I can literally feel you staring at my ass!"
"You have a wedgie!" He counters, before muttering so lowly his microphone is the only thing that hears him, "and a very nice ass."
"I have a question for you," you start, laying on your side to face Haechan in the bed adjacent to yours, your hands fluffing the pillow beneath your head.
Your partner Jaden is still in the bathroom getting ready for bed and the bedroom has only half of its inhabitants. Everyone is the room is milling around, making light conversation, or in Vanessa and Jamie's case, arguing in heated whispers.
"Women and their questions," Haechan sighs exasperatedly, "no, I won't father your children. Though, they would be gorgeous."
"It's much more serious than that," you reply, your face set with a look of worry. You fiddle with your nails, "I was just wondering… if me and Dean were both dangling off a cliff, who would you save?"
"Dean's my best friend," Haechan replies, playing along with your serious act, his brows pinched with faux concern, "but so are you…"
You nod in understanding while Haechan rubs his chin in thought, "but Dean doesn't subject me to random, exaggerated retellings of his favorite chick flicks, so I choose Dean."
"You motherfucker," you growl as you leap from your bed and jump onto his own. Your hands are quick to pull the pillow out from behind his back and hit him over the head with it.
"Please! Someone! Help!" Haechan cries out, his hands coming up to protect himself, "she's killing me!"
"Geez, it's hotter in here than usual, isn't it?" Vanessa asks as she sweeps a fluffy eyeshadow brush over your eye.
Rosie takes another chunk of your hair, "I think it's because we're used to being here in the cooler parts of the day, not the middle of the afternoon."
"Yet we all insisted on giving each other makeovers for fun," Vanessa sighs, fanning her neck with her hand.
"Does anyone have their water?" You ask, hissing softly as Rosie accidentally pulls too hard on the curler with your hair wrapped around it.
It turns out that no one does and it's even more obvious that none of the girls are wanting to go downstairs. You sigh and stand as soon as Rosie has clipped a curl at the back of your head, "I got this."
"Don't go downstairs, it's not that bad," Samira calls after you.
But you have no plans of going downstairs, no way. Not when half your head has curls setting for a banging blow out for later tonight. Beauty must come first!
"Haechan!" You yell, waving your hands from the ledge that over looks the pool from the second floor.
Haechan's head pops out of the water, looking every which way until he finally looks up at you. He cups a hand over his eyes to protect them from the sun, "what do you want?!"
"Bring us our waters, please!"
"I am literally in the pool!" He argues, his hands splashing water around him to further prove his point.
"Pookie, please!" You whine, clasping your hands together with a dramatic pout you doubt he can even see.
"Get them yourselves!"
"I'm in the middle of getting my hair blown out!"
He says nothing else, at least not that you can hear, but the water splashes around him with every paddle and step he takes to get out of the pool.
You skip back to the beauty room with a smile, "Haechan is bringing our waters."
"So you just hold the camera here at this angle and just keep taking pictures through every move, got it?" You confirm as you gently guide Haechan's hands to the perfect angle.
"Why do I have to do this again?"
"Because with the way it's looking for me, I might leave before I find love. The very least I can leave with are sexy pics to post so I can pull, duh," you explain as you situate yourself into the first pose, "ok, start taking pictures now."
You move fluidly from pose to pose. First, arching your back on all fours with your hair mussed. Then, you move onto your knees, you back to Haechan as you look at him from over your shoulder, your fingers hooked into the thin straps of your bikini bottoms to tug the skimp scrap up even further up your curves.
"How are they looking?" You ask as you maneuver into a seated position with your knees bent and back curved up to push your chest out.
"Bitch, you look hot as fuck. Are you sure you don't want to couple up with me? I'll sneak us into the hideaway," Haechan breathes out, his eyes locked on the screen of your phone as he swipes through the pictures.
"Hyuck!" You whine petulantly, pushing his shoulder lightly, "be serious!"
"I am being serious! Look at this one," he passes your phone back to you, showing you a picture, "your boobs look amazing! I would swipe right. Hey girl, are you dtf? That would be my pick up line."
Week 3
You sigh with frustration as you stand under the hot stream of water, your fingers scrubbing pink slime from your hair for the nth minute. You hate challenge days. They're always something over the top and never before imagined by the average person. Who in their right and healthy mind would ever have people dive into a pool full of slime to dig for a key to get their partner free from a fake lock? And why did you have to be the one to dig through the slime?
If you'd won the countless rounds of rock, paper, scissors among the girls, then the slime would have been much easier to wash out. It was dried and crusted in all your nooks and crannies, the water running pink at your feet even after five minutes beneath the shower head.
You reach for your shampoo, squeezing a hefty amount into your palm before lathering it into your hair. You massage and rub the soap through every strand, rubbing it until suds.
You exhale in relief, your eyes shut as you tilt your head back to begin to wash out your first round of shampoo. You don't hear the door open over the sound of the water, the uncharacteristic quiet of the villa brings you peace.
That is of course until you hear a surprising, "hey."
Your eyes snap open in shock, just in time to see the glass door of your shower opening to reveal Haechan, "your shampoo smells really good."
You screech at the top of your lungs, using both your hands to preserve your modesty as you back yourself into the corner of the shower. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" You scream shrilly.
Haechan slams the door shut, cheeks bright red with embarrassment, apologies tumbling past his lips as you breathe heavily, trying to catch your breath and slow your heartbeat. But of course, the villa has a way of providing more drama than anyone could ever need.
Everyone comes racing into the bathroom, no care for how small or cramped the space becomes with 10 bodies.
"What?! What's happening?" Jamie asks breathlessly, his buttoned up shirt open and hanging off one shoulder.
You point a finger at Haechan with anger, thankful that the frosted glass shows nothing to your housemates, "why the fuck would you open my shower?!"
"You didn't hear me when I complimented your shampoo the first time!" He defends.
Samira's jaw drops, "you couldn't tell her when she wasn't naked and showering?"
"I don't think sometimes! We all know that!"
Still pressed into the corner of the shower you scoff, "none of you do!" Everyone's gaze turns to you with offense written clear on their features, "I am still naked and showering and you're all standing in the bathroom just hanging out now!"
Murmurs of agreement break out, everyone quickly filing out of the bathroom to leave you to finish your shower. All except Haechan, who presses his face to the glass with a pitiful frown, "Pookie, forgive me."
"Donghyuck, you're an idiot," you roll your eyes, waving him away.
Haechan waves at you sadly, a pout on his face as he shuffles toward the door, "your idiot?"
"Yes, yes," you sigh, returning to the stream of water, "the other half of my brain cell. Now, go!"
"What's up YouTube!" Dean shouts at his phone with a peace sign thrown up, "We're here after a recoupling and unfortunately our boy Eli was sent packing. Samira, how do you feel being the girl to send him to his fate?"
The camera is turned onto Samira who rolls her eyes as she takes another bite of her ice cream cone, "Eli was very sweet and he'll be missed in the villa. It was very tough decision but everyone knows that Haechan's crying would have kept everyone awake for days if his beloved Dean left. Everyone should be thanking me."
Dean laughs, focusing the camera back on himself for just a second, "speaking of my best friend." The camera turns to focus on Haechan, who is to no one's surprise, with you, "there he is."
You and Haechan are dancing, your backside pressed to his front as you rock and sway side to side with an ice cream bar between your lips. Behind you, Haechan holds your waist with one hand, the other holding an ice cream cone, bare of any ice cream as his voice rings out, "Daddy's home! Home for me! And I know you've been waiting for this lovin' all day!"
The phone shakes as Dean laughs loudly, overpowering the sound of Haechan's singing. Dean zooms in on Rosie across the kitchen who watches on with an amused smile, "Rose! Get your boy!"
"They tire each other out! They need their play time," Rosie replies, ending her statement with her tongue stuck out at the camera.
The camera focuses back on you and Haechan who are now doing the snake in opposite directions. Haechan takes a large bite out of his cone before singing with his mouth full, "So all my ladies say!"
"Hey, hey, hey, daddy!" You reply, turning on your heel to clap your hands as if you were hyping up a crowd.
Vanessa joins you and Haechan, the three of you singing in unison, "hey, hey, hey, daddy!"
The atmosphere feels light and happy, no one has the choice but to join in to keep the spirits high. The camera pans around the kitchen, catching everyone clapping, dancing along, and chanting, "Hey, hey, hey, daddy!
Two days later, you find yourself standing in the open kitchen. The day has proved to be gloomy and rainy, weirdly, reflecting the bleak mood of you all for the last two days. You've all grown so close, a tight knit family so emotionally dependent on each other that one of you leaving would leave the villa in a fit of depression for a few days, especially losing one of you original Islanders.
In front of you, the rest of your fellow islanders watch on as Ariana struts toward you all, looking gorgeous as always. "Hello, islanders," she greets with a calm smile, much the opposite of everyone's grim mood.
"Well, the public have been voting," she explains, "the viewers were given the option of sending one boy and one girl on dates with two brand new bombshells."
Gasps sound out, eyes wide, and others shushing loudly to discover the fate of those not chosen for dates. Ariana keeps her poise, "Vanessa, the public have voted for you to go on a date with new bombshell Luke. Dean, you were voted to go on a date with new bombshell Ana."
Your heart drops to your stomach as Samira sobs loudly, the sound barely muffled by her hand. You gulp, your hand helplessly squeezing Vanessa's as you await your fate, anticipating the dreaded words: "you've been dumped from the villa."
You keep your eyes locked on Samira's, her eyes brimming with tears as she leans into her partner, Eren's, shoulder. It's easy enough to keep yourself from bursting into tears when you know you'll have to comfort her right after the news is dropped and convince her to stay.
It comes as a shock when you hear your name stated, drawing your attention back to Ariana, "the public also had the opportunity to vote for two single islanders they wanted to be in a couple." Her lips quirk into a knowing smile, "as a result, the two of you are officially coupled up and therefore safe from any dumpings this week. You will also be joining Vanessa and Dean on a date this afternoon."
"I'll see you all very soon," she concludes, walking away from you all just as both Vanessa and Dean's phones ding loudly with texts.
Everything around you is muffled chaos. Everyone leaps up from their seats on the couch rushing you all relieved embraces and delighted exclamations. Samira squeezes you in her arms tightly, repeating her words of elation right in your ear.
Your gaze is torn from the floor, your gaze guided toward familiar pools of amber and oak with warm and gentle hands on your cheeks. Haechan's lips are moving, but you can't for the life of you hear what he's saying over the pounding of your heart and rush of blood in your ears. "What the hell just happened?" You breathe out.
a/n: this is just the beginning of their madness woohoo! Still to come: their date, a kiss, some sparks, and ~love~!!!! feedback is encouraged and appreciated <3
taglist (comment or ask to be added!) @prettypeachyplease @neo-moa @banbao @lovesuhng @do0iee @bluedbliss
warnings: smut, mature themes, mdni, unprotected sex, pull out game strong tho, soft dom jisung, strangers to lovers?, power imbalance (fan x idol dynamic) stripping, lap dance, missionary, alcohol consumption, nervous reader x nervous jisung.
summary: newbie!jisung x stripper!reader. jisung falls in love with the first stripper that catches his eye. nervous fan stripper!reader popping jisungs strip club cherry
requested!
you had been a fan of nct and dream for a while now. most of your tiny bikinis that you wore to work were often neon green with white shiney pearls are sequins adorning you. in the club that you worked at you had become known for the girl in green, a contrast to the other girls who wore more red or pinks and blacks, you stood out, gems and jewels in your hair as your bikini glows in the black light. it was a private club, paid entrance and paid private dances, you had been working there since you were 18, working your way up through the hierarchy of the club, once just a stage and pole girl, performing for the general customer, now parading yourself around for clients, regulars who come in for their special girls, new clientele who want to explore their option, and tonight was the latter.
in the dim light you barely recognised him, his black hair covered his eyes and a face mask pulled up to the bridge of his nose. tall and nimble, despite not seeing his face clearly, you could tell he was looking at you, his head following you as you walked was a dead give away, you winked his way with a small flirtatious smile, as you walk around the room in your peripheral vision you see him still following your movements until he leans over the bar and talks to one of the bartenders. it’s not long before the manager is finding you in the crowd, handing you a thick folded up stack of cash. smiling you stuff it in your bra before looking to what customer he’s pointing to, seeing the tall man in black. he was wearing tight slacks and a plain black shirt, he wasn’t one of your regulars you could tell by the sheer amount of cash in your bra, and that was just your cut. you walk over to him, heels clacking against the floor in time with the heavy beat blasting through the club and coming to a stop infront of the man. you extend your manicured hand out to him, bringing his hand to your lips leaving a chase kiss on his knuckles before introducing yourself with your stage name before pulling him off his bar stool towards a private room. it’s a little more lit than the main club, lights are dim but it’s not the black light and strobes like in the main room. you’re turned away from him as you prepare some drinks for him as you start speaking.
“you want music?”
“uh… whatever you like, i’ve never done this before”
“that’s okay, you’re in safe hands, we’ll go with some quiet music for now, but if you change your mind, just let me know, i’m here to take care of you”
you quickly play your playlist, turning the volume down to a comfortable whisper and stand, turning to face him, your next words catching in your throat as you look at him, face mask removed and hair slightly pushed back, and there stood park jisung. you make sure your face doesn’t give away how starstruck you are, you really don’t want to make him uncomfortable or anymore awkward than he might already be feeling, so you opt for a small smile while offering him a whiskey
“drink?”
your voice cracks, the flirty drawl now replaced by a shakey uncertain tone, one that he catches immediately. his lips twitch ever so slightly after he hears the switch and looks down at the drink in your hands, as his eyes aren’t on your face you scrunch your face in frustration at your own lack of confidence now, now overly aware of your green bikini, the exact shade of neo pearl champagne that represents his own group. you think he’s going to back out, ask for another girl, and your shoulder start to slump, but your feel his long fingers brush yours as he takes the small crystal glass
“thank you”
“hm? oh… yeah- i- you’re welcome- sorry i was just lost in thought for a second”
“it’s okay, i think you know i’m nervous too”
you look into his eyes, both of you sharing a knowing look of understanding, you know who he is and he knows you know
“i’m sorry, if you want another girl i can go find one—“
“why would i want another girl?”
“i— i just thought maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with… a fan, doing… yknow, this?”
“are you uncomfortable?”
“no, just got a little stage freight”
you smile into your own glass as you take a sip and he lets out a chuckle
“i can tell, you were very confident when i first saw you, but i still want to, i picked you for a reason”
it’s your turn to laugh before setting your drink on the little table before taking his free hand and guiding him to the couch. you muster up all the courage you can, fixing your posture as you push on his shoulders to sit, but he can feel by the tiny hitch in your breath that you’re still nervous.
“what was the reason?”
“i think you’re very beautiful, especially in my colour”
you straddle him, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely as your fake nails softly scratch at the nape of his neck, you smile shyly, but let your voice relax again, teasing him slightly
“it’s my favourite, could mean anything”
“oh im sure”
he has a small smile on his face as his hands drum on the couch at his sides
“you can touch me jisung”
he looks to you for reassurance, seeing you smiling and nodding before his palms rest on your ass, soothing over the exposed skin and you start to grind, letting him guide you over him, leaning in slowly and kissing along his neck and exposed collar bone. after a few minutes your hands come behind your back and start to untie your bikini strings letting your bra loose and drop, along with the cash that was in there, it scatters on the floor before you crawl off his lap and onto the floor, fully removing the bra strap from around your neck, leaving you in just the panties. he leans back, sinking into the cushions as he watches you intently. you dance for him on the floor, doing splits, kicks, all your crowd pleasers. jisung can’t take his eyes off you, your legs stretched back over your body as the front of your heels whack the floor, gusset of your panties leaving little to the imagination. he watches as you swing your legs back around and you stand up slowly, ass out and practically in his face as you flick your hair back. you bring his hand to the ties of your bikini panties and he gently pulls one side open and it falls open and you pull the opposite side too, letting the small pair of panties drop to the floor joining the matching bra and leaving you completely bare.
you turn and face him and your pelvis is face to face with him, he leans in and you kick your leg up on the couch beside him and he lets his hand softly graze up your leg, he can feel the goosebumps start to rise on your skin as he touches you and drinks your naked body in.
“you’re doing so good, so pretty”
the praise has you pursing your lips, usually you don’t fall for the stereotypical one liners your clients drop on you during your dances, just nodding along and keeping them happy, but something about him, his raspy voice, his own little tremble in his throat from nerves, mixed with how insanely good he looks. you drop back to sit on his thighs, your second leg joining on the couch and you dip back in a slow swooping circle, letting him get a good view of your whole chest. his pupils are blown as he watches you. his face is slightly flushed but he remains calm, licking his lips, as you dance on his lap again you can feel the now solid tent in his pants, he curses under his breath as his palms slightly twitch on your back
“do you want me to help you out with that?”
“i— what? are you serious?”
you nod down at the hefty amount of bills now scattered on the floor with a small smirk
“seems pretty serious to me, unless you don’t want—“
“i want to, b-but only if you— don’t do it just because i paid more”
“i would be an idiot not to fuck you, i want to, i promise, you earned it”
your reassurance has a small huff of air blowing out his lips, letting you stand and unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants
“are you gonna get in trouble for his?”
“for taking care of my new favourite regular? nah, might even get a raise for treating you so well, and popping your stripper cherry”
you wink up at him and leave a teasing poke at his thigh. you get his pants loose enough to tug them down to his thighs with his boxers, at first you hesitate, purely from just how big he is before leaning back in and his hand gently rests on your cheek
“it’s really okay, you don’t have to—“
“jesus you’re massive…”
he chokes on his spit, not expecting you to sound so eager, eyes trained on his shaft standing tall against the bottom of his shirt raising to your feet again as you go to straddle again but he stops you
“can- can i fuck you on the floor?”
you stumble back a little shocked that he wants to take control, before nodding gently
“you want me to ride or?”
“no sweetie, can you lay back for me?”
“yeah- yeah okay… usually the customer just sits back and relaxes”
“well i’m not your average customer”
he’s the one with a teasing smirk on his face this time, and he helps lower you to the floor, before fully removing his shirt and stepping out his pants and you get a real look at his physic, his abs, small waist, big broad shoulders, thick veiny arms and toned thighs and legs
“fuck… jesus you’re so…”
“so what princess?”
“sexy…”
“ditto”
you both giggle as he knees down by your spread legs, he can see just how wet you are just from dancing for him
“hmm… you this wet all for me baby?”
the new names the keeps throwing at you has you squirming, of course when clients call you these names you’re rolling your eyes as you shove their faces in your chest to hide how disinterested you are, but he is different, the way they roll off his tongue has you clenching. you nod your head against the hard wood floor, jisung holds your knees softly as he looks you all over, your hair tangled in bank notes and your clothes are scattered around you and you look so ready to be devoured by him
“good girl”
he gently tugs your legs so you slip closer to him and you squeal at the sudden movement
“just let me know if you want to stop okay? you’re in charge… kinda”
he laughs through a smirk and you nod again, words caught in your throat. you watch as he pushes his hips closer to you, his sudden show of dominance has you feeling so small compared to him, despite him remaining a gentleman, he still lets you know that he’s in control of his sexual desires. you feel his tip prodding at your entrance and as he pushes his thick shaft in your arms scatter across the floor, making fists subconsciously, balling up stray notes in the process
“feels so good jisung oh my god…”
“i’m almost in baby, doing so good”
“you’re not even all the way in? jesus- ah! fuck…”
he laughs a little and leaves a reassuring hand on your abdomen where the visible outline of him starts to form. your head rolls back as he wraps your legs around his waist and he leans in forward on both hands over either side of you, sliding all the way in. his hips start to pick up, drawing back and snapping into you, fucking you in missionary on the floor. you moan and whine out loud as he stares down at you, he groans with each thrust, its soft but deep and the sound rumbles in his chest as he speeds up and sets a secure pace. he looks you all over for any reactions, whenever he sees you responding more positively he sticks to it, making sure you feel as good as possible
“you’re so tight, squeezing me in so good”
“please don’t stop”
you pant, breathless as he keeps going, eyes flicking between your face and belly bulge disappearing and reappearing with each of his movements
“can see myself inside you jesus- fuck…”
your hands claw at his forearms clenching hard as his balls slap against your clit. he can tell you’re close when your legs start falling from his waist and spasming a little and your head rolls back in ecstasy
“i’m gonna cum- nghh! fuck! please!”
“go a head, cum for me pretty girl, look so good like this”
he leans down and softly sucks at your neck as you let go around him, when he reaches his climax he quickly pulls out and cums on your thighs and floor. both of you lay there panting for a few seconds before he starts to help you back on to your feet again, legs now shaking as you stand in hour heels.
“that… that was- that felt so good”
“me too, i’m glad… here, let me help you”
he reaches for your bikini, helping you step into the panties and tying each side securely at your hips and the same with the bra, securing it around your back again and fastening it. you quietly collect up the bills and push them back in your bra as he gets redressed himself. you look at him sheepishly, expecting him to walk out without another word. but he turns to you as he tucks the last of his shirt back into his pants with a small smile
“do you want another drink? or is there a time limit on these things?”
“no- i mean no there’s no time limit, but yeah, id love a drink”
you go to fix him another whiskey but he pats your hand softly and helps you sit down as he pours you both a drink
“you not a big fan of whiskey?”
he nods to your glass of champagne
“not really, i smell enough of it on everyone in here”
“ah… sorry”
your eyes bulge as you realise you’re talking about him, well kinda
“oh not you! you’re fine- i mean… i just meant that- it doesn’t matter, i just meant that-“
he laughs, cutting you off
“i know, i was teasing you, you’re cute when you’re flustered”
you stare down at your hands
“sorry… you kinda make me nervous”
“it’s okay… it’s weird not being the complete nervous wreck, it’s usually me stumbling over my words”
“i know—“
you sigh as you realise you keep making it obvious how much of a fan you are
“relax~ you don’t need to try so hard to impress me or make yourself seem different”
you look back up at him, and he looks so completely gorgeous, more gorgeous than you’ve ever seen him
“can i kiss you?”
“y-yeah… yeah, kiss me”
jisung leans in and leaves a gentle but firm kiss on your lips, letting it deepen before softly drawing back. you sit back against him as he wraps an arm around you as you drink the last of your drinks and before he leaves he writes his number on a little napkin
“call me, i’d really like to see you again, whether it’s here, or at my place, i had a really nice time, thank you for a great first time… you’re really special”
he smiles at you as you gently take the napkin, another burst of confidence suddenly washing over you as you tuck it into the waist band of your bikini
“i’ll keep it safe… i’m here most nights if you wanna come support your favourite local stripper”
he laughs as you wink at him, eyes dragging over your body as you walk to the door, opening it up for him, he loops a hand around your waist as he walks by you, bringing you close enough to leave a kiss on your temple. you lead him back through to the main room before you have to head back to the dressing room, fixing his collar for him as he stands by the bar, scratching his neck gently as you bring your hands back down, letting him drink you in for the last time tonight.
“goodnight princess”
“goodnight jisung”
you smirk as you turn around, walking around the bar again like the first time he saw you, watching as you wave and wink again before disappearing behind the curtain.
jisung knew he shouldn’t fall for the first and only stripper who’s ever paid him attention, but there’s was something so intoxicating about you. and he knew he was fucked.
Summary | Secret office romances are supposed to be hot and steamy. But when pleasure clashes with professionalism, not to mention a new beautiful intern added to the mix, you’re left wondering if this will cost you more than your job.
⤿ read part one
Pairing | Johnny Suh x Fem!Reader
Genre + AU | Romance, smut, angst + coworkers to lovers, office romance, secret relationship
WC | 20.2k
Content | Mentions of alcohol and food consumption (+ lack of food consumption), anxiety, vomiting due to anxiety symptoms, self-esteem challenges, mental health struggles, side characters (aside from nct and svt members) aren’t based on any specific idols, use of Y/N, unprotected + protected sex, car sex, p in v, fingering, oral (f), hickies, creampie, praising, possessiveness, jealousy, missionary, cowgirl, pet names: boss, baby, babe, sweetheart, my love
A/N | I wanted to make this with different parts because my original idea could not be posted in just one post without exceeding the post limit. The next part is likely to be the last part. I’m not sure when the next part will be. Also, please note that I do not have any background in business nor do I know anything about how it works behind the scenes, so I tried to make it as simple as possible with the little knowledge I have heh! Let me know what you think & as always, happy reading!
— A Bed & A Pizza’s Accent.
“After you, m’lady.” Johnny politely holds the hotel room door open for you as you step in with your weekend luggage — a duffle bag that you usually use when you spend weekends over at Johnny’s place and a carry-on rolling suitcase. “I hope you find the room to your liking.”
Your eyes swiftly scan the room, already noticing something strange. Though, a smile blooms across your face at the sight of it. “One bed?” You point out, finger pointing towards the king sized bed in the middle of the room.
Johnny simply shrugs his shoulders, moving past you but not before gently taking hold of the light blue duffle bag slung over your shoulder for you. “That’s what you get when you leave me in charge of booking hotels for our work trips.”
He presses his pointer finger against the tip of your nose, then gives it a featherlight kiss. You’re not quite sure when that started, but it’s an endearing action he did after sex that he slowly started weaving into your daily interaction with him — and you didn’t mind it one bit.
“You don’t think it’ll look strange to Mr. Choi that we have one room booked with one bed?”
“That’s why I made sure to book one with a sofa bed. One, for plausible deniability and two, if we get tired of doing it on the bed, there’s also a couch.” Johnny interjects with a teasing wink. “Plus, do you really think Choi will go out of his way to look at finances for work trips? He barely goes out of his way to do his job. I think we’re good.”
Your lips press into a tight line, still unsure of the arrangement but you choose to believe him anyway. The beauty of work trips with Johnny is that Mr. Choi trusts him to do what’s best and for this particular work trip a shared king size bed is what’s best for the both of you.
It’s been a few weeks since you and Johnny started to secretly see each other romantically. A foreign concept to you, but an exciting one nonetheless.
You’ve occasionally spent lunch in his car, albeit less eating and more making out with a few other things from time to time that give you a satisfied glow when you return to the office. He’s also taken a liking to how soft your mattress is and how central your apartment is to everything, refusing to leave on weekends and ultimately spending more time at your place than his own.
Even your neighbor, Mrs. Kang has begun to mention Johnny in passing, labeling him as your ‘midnight friend’ and looking forward to his greeting when she sees him while she takes out her trash. Johnny, being the gentleman he is, is inclined to always throw it out for her when he sees her. There’s even a slight disappointment when you tell her he won’t be staying the night that week — though you’d like to believe it's because she enjoys his conversation and not because she doesn’t have to walk to the trash chute herself.
“Do you wanna shower first or should I?” You ask, stripping yourself from your knit cardigan and toeing off your sneakers.
“You can go first. In the meantime, I’ll order room service.” Taking a seat on the foot of the bed, he quickly removes his shoes. “Trust me to get you something you like?” He asks, intently watching the way you begin to remove bits of clothing off and neatly creating a pile of used clothes nearby.
Making your way over to him, you kiss the top of his head. “Always. Just make sure—”
“Babe, I know your allergy list and your likes and dislikes like the back of my hand.” Johnny lets out, grabbing the take out pamphlet near the phone. “I got this.”
With a smug expression painted on his face, you run your fingers through his hair before playfully tugging on his roots to guide his gaze up to yours.
“That’s good to know. But I was gonna say, make sure to get utensils. You forgot to mention it last time.”
“Right.” A nervous chuckle slipped from his lips, surprised and slightly turned on by your touch. “I will do that, too. Thanks for reminding me.”
“You’re welcome,” you smile as you run your fingers through his hair once more. “I’ll be quick. Don’t miss me too much.” Your lip catches between your teeth, stifling a cheeky smile as you walk away.
“Already do!” Johnny replies playfully, biting back a laugh while he watches you happily make your way towards the bathroom.
❁❁❁❁❁
“Okay, how about this. Which fruit looks the most suspicious to you?” Johnny asks, leaning into the backing of his chair. He sips on his cup of water, ice already melting and creating water rings on the wooden patio table as the hours pass eating dinner while playing a game of random questions he’s made up.
“Pineapples.” You quickly answer, stacking the empty dinner plates on top of each other. “First, it looks like it has spikes! A dead giveaway that we shouldn’t eat it but we do anyway. Also, nothing to do with looks, but fresh pineapples break down the proteins in your mouth…like what for? Other than to tell us to stop eating them, right?”
Johnny chuckles at your unexpected enthusiasm to his question. “Its like it’s not meant to be eaten fresh.”
“But fresh fruit is the best.” You counter, crossing your leg over the other as you take a sip of your water. “Okay, my turn.” You pause, foot shaking as you think of a ridiculous question. When you finally come up with one, you straighten your posture. “If pizza could speak, what accent would it have?”
“Is that a real question?” Johnny sighs disappointingly. “An Italian accent, of course. I mean, they originate from Italy so it only makes sense.”
“So would a deep dish pizza have a Chicago accent?” You question, intrigued to hear his answer.
“Well, duh!” Johnny smiles, grinning from ear to ear. He throws a wink in your direction. “Now you’re getting it, baby.”
You quietly giggle, letting a beat of silence pass between you two. You stand to look over the balcony, watching people below you going about their night. Your mind eventually wanders to tomorrow’s client you and Johnny are meeting over dinner and a tight knot in your stomach begins to form. A hand slides over your waist and across your torso and Johnny nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck.
“Tomorrow night is gonna be fine.” Johnny quietly reassures, gently pulling you back to have you sit on his lap. You swing your legs over the arm rest of his chair and his arms securely hold you.
You’ve learned to keep your emotions guarded, more for your sake than anyone else’s. It’s fitting that you’re in a career where vulnerability doesn’t rule with an iron fist. You never want a client to see you waver and showing anything other than confidence means you’ve already lost. It’s just unfortunate that hiding your vulnerability at work bled into hiding your vulnerability with everyone else.
But Johnny Suh is the exception.
Kind of.
You don’t really need to express your feelings, he just seems to get it. You’ve pondered the silly idea that he could possibly read minds, but you eventually settled on the idea that he’s someone who relies on patterns to guide him — and you aren’t the most lowkey when it comes to your tells as much as you’d like to think, at least in your personal life.
“Doyoung said Mr. Perez is really hard to impress.” You solemnly share, feeling your confidence slowly dwindling at the thought. “Even the best of the company couldn’t get them on board.” You give Johnny a knowing look, having heard his experience with this overseas client and Johnny’s inability to impress him from Doyoung.
“To be fair, I was inexperienced and working alone.” The tips of Johnny’s fingers move under the hem of your pajama shorts. “It’s always better with a partner. And the most important thing to remember is that you’re not me.” Johnny reassures, tucking your hair behind your ear before giving you a soft kiss on your cheek.
“Mr. Choi says a lot is riding on this.” You share, sighing as the knot in your stomach tightens uncomfortably. You knew better than to listen to the words of the incompetent manager that’s been getting under your skin more times than Johnny has been in you — and that’s saying a lot. But if Mr. Choi is good at anything, it’s manipulation and picking at people’s insecurities and your insecurity, surprisingly, is the fear of not doing your job well.
“Of course he would.” Johnny rolls his eyes, annoyed with the idea his manager spoke to you without him present – not because of jealousy, but from concern that Mr. Choi would make you feel inadequate when it comes to doing your job, which he did and also has no problem doing, to anyone, Johnny included. Johnny’s hand cups the side of your head and pulls you to rest on his chest while his free hand strokes your mid back under your shirt. “Forget what Choi says, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. We’re a team. I’ll support you where you need it and you’ll do the same for me.”
Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, his palm slides up and down your exposed thigh. You inhale the scent of the hotel body wash still lingering on his skin from his shower earlier and soak his heat that's keeping you warm against the cool night air.
“Regardless how tomorrow night goes, we’ll celebrate.” Johnny reassures. “Don’t stress yourself out, baby. You’re amazing at what you do.”
You mumble a thank you and press a kiss onto Johnny’s cheek. Without another word, Johnny engulfs you into a loving embrace — making you feel protected in ways you’d never thought you’d feel by a man.
— The Not-So-Difficult Client & Whispered Praises.
Sitting at the foot of the bed putting on his ridiculously expensive watch, one he deems as his ‘lucky charm’ — aside from you, of course, Johnny does a double take when you walk back into the room and sees you in your silk champagne dress that hugged every part of your body beautifully. He’s breathless and completely enamoured by your presence, feeling the sudden urge to rip your dress off while also wanting to preserve how ethereal you look at his very moment by stopping time, forever.
You don’t notice the way his lips part when his gaze scans your body or the way he needs to adjust his pants, suddenly feeling too tight in his groin area. However, you do notice the way he can’t keep his eyes off you. His low lidded gaze locks onto your body as you move around the room and stuff your purse with your necessities.
“Johnny, honey, you’re catching flies.” You tease, gently lifting his chin to close his gaping mouth. His gulp is audible and his tongue darts between his lips before he clears his throat. A hand reaches for your hip, gently pulling your body into him. Johnny rests his chin against your sternum, his dark eyes looking up at you with adoration. “Do you like my dress?”
Johnny mindlessly nods, gulping down his saliva. His ears flush a deep red, a dead giveaway that his heart is also pounding in his chest and his hard cock is uncomfortably restricted by the fitted fabric around his waist.
“Do you think I look hot?” You tease quietly, your voice dropping into a soft and silky tone. Your fingers gently brush the back of his neck, a small smile threatening to appear when you see Johnny’s eyes flutter close.
“So hot,” Johnny replies instantly. His eyelids slowly open, gaze softening and the innermost part of his eyebrows curving upward. “How badly do we need this client? He’s not that important, right?”
You giggle softly, carefully fixing a stray hair that’s fallen out of place on his forehead. “I think you already know the answer to that.” Pulling away, you catch Johnny uncomfortably shifting in bed before ultimately jumping to his feet.
Johnny watches as you spritz your favorite perfume behind your ears, on your wrist, and behind your knees. In a pathetic attempt to soften his riled up cock, he nervously rubs the back of his neck and tries to take his mind off the way he’s throbbing between his legs. “Why do you, um, always spray your perfume behind your knees?” He asks, stumbling over his words like he’s talking to his crush for the first time.
Sliding the travel size bottle into your purse, you flash a quick and dangerous grin at him. “You’ll get it when my legs are propped on your shoulders tonight.”
“You’re killing me here,” Johnny desperately groans, squeezing his eyes shut and the image suddenly pops into his head. He braces himself on the nearby table, palms pressing into the table top and head hanging as he takes deep breaths to calm himself.
The corners of your lips lift into a feline-like smile as you rub circles against his back. “It’s okay, baby.” You coo into his ear. “Do you need a minute?”
“Did you put on your lip gloss yet?” Johnny asks suddenly, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he keeps his head down.
“I forgot! Thanks for rem—”
Your words are cut short when you feel Johnny’s fingers grabbing a hold of your jaw and pulling your lips to his, aching to feel yours. A smile stretches across your face and Johnny shakily exhales, his forehead pressed against yours.
“That should hold me over until dinner is over.” Johnny happily sighs before the corner of his mouth ticks up into a sharp smirk.
”Glad we’re on the same page.” You whisper against his lips before giving Johnny a final kiss, feeling his hand slide down the curve of your backside. Your eyes flick to the digital clock on the bedside table. “We don’t wanna be late. You can take this dress off me when we get back.”
“Just know I’m holding you to that.” He says, bringing the back of your hand to his mouth for a kiss. “The sooner we get this done—”
“The sooner we can be alone.” You add, pressing a kiss on his cheek before you pull the door open.
❁❁❁❁❁
“There he is.” Johnny quickly mumbles under his breath loud enough for you to hear.
You paint a bright smile, watching the man and woman nearing the two of you. Decked out in designer clothes, Mr. Perez and his wife look like they walked straight out of a GQ Magazine cover.
“John! It's great to see you again after all these years.” The slightly shorter man, in comparison to Johnny, in his mid 50s with salt and pepper hair greets your co-worker with a cup of a hand to Johnny’s shoulder.
“Mr. Perez, it’s nice to see you again. I’d like to introduce you to my partner, Y/N.” Both Mr. Perez and his wife turn to look at you and they flash you a kind smile.
“It’s nice to meet you both.” You give them a charming grin, providing them with small talk, while Johnny speaks with the host regarding the dinner reservation. Johnny quickly gestures three of you towards the entrance, the host preparing the menus before leading the four of you to a private room.
Johnny pulls out your chair, then takes the seat next to you.
“Always a gentleman,” Mr. Perez comments on Johnny’s gesture and looks at you with a chuckle. “I remember the first time I met him, we were at a restaurant, similar to this. It was pouring rain when we got done with our dinner. As I was getting into my car, there was this woman who was stuck on the sidewalk, not wanting to get wet. John gave her his umbrella before booking it to his car, completely drenched in rain as he fumbled for his car keys and I thought, wow how many young men would do that when no one is looking.”
There’s a look of admiration in Mr. Perez’s eyes when he looks at Johnny who suddenly feels coy at the retelling of the story.
“Honestly, one of the reasons why I’ve been keeping an eye on the company for so long is this man, right here.” Pointing to Johnny, you watch the way your partner humbly accepts the compliment with a shy ‘thank you, sir’ in return.
“Glad to know your acts of kindness weren’t just an act.” You gently tease, giving Johnny’s knee a gentle squeeze under the table.
“I may be a lot of things, but performative isn’t one of them.” He sends you a playful wink, grinning against his fist before clearing his throat and turns his attention to the waiter making his way towards the table.
When the waiter appears to take the table’s drink orders, he’s surprised to take everyone’s food orders right away. The client is impressed when you order one of his favorite dishes and compliments you on your exceptional taste in food. Truthfully, Johnny gave you a heads up to look up the restaurant’s menu online beforehand since the couple in front of you tend to do the same. The fact your choice of food is Mr. Perez’s favorite is from pure luck.
The waiter quickly leaves, leaving you and Johnny with the hardest client you need to impress. But just before you or Johnny could ease into the conversation, Mr. Perez looks at you with a confident smile.
“I hope this doesn’t sound too off putting, but I thought it’d be better to be transparent. I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N, and I must say that you are a well-loved and highly respected employee.” Mr. Perez says, glancing over at his wife then back at you. “The uptick in revenue since you transferred is quite impressive. If I’m not mistaken, you’re essentially in charge of making changes to better a company, yes?”
You proudly nod. “Everything from strategy to marketing. When done right, work flow is smoother and more efficient.”
Under the table, Johnny’s pinky carefully laces with yours. He gives you a light squeeze — a silent affirmation that he’s said to you many times before: I’m proud of you, baby.
Mr. Perez nods in understanding, then looks at Johnny. “What do you think, John? I’m eager to hear your thoughts on your partner and the changes she brought to the table.”
Johnny grins, straightening his posture. “She’s amazing. Aside from the spike in revenue, since she transferred the morale in the office has seen an improvement.”
“However,” you interject politely, “I can’t take all the credit. John has been a wonderful partner in helping bridge our companies together. We’re a great team.”
“Happier employees get the job done.” Mrs. Perez chirps. “We’ve also heard you transferred from one of the best companies in the country, is that correct?”
“Yes,” you smile.
Mr. Perez takes a sip of his water. “Good to know Choi has done something good by approving your transfer.” Your potential client chuckles at his back handed compliment towards the insufferable manager. “Last time I spoke with you, John, we pondered the idea of you gunning for the managerial position. Still thinking about it?”
“It’d be a lie if I said I didn’t,” Johnny laughs, “but as I’ve stated before that I’m not inclined to steal a job from another person. My work speaks for itself and when the right person notices, doors open. Until then, I’ll hold my cards close.” Johnny lifts the corner of his mouth into a smug grin, rightfully proud of himself.
You hope the people in front of you don’t notice the glint of reverence in your eyes when you look at your coworker. You try not to let your stare linger, but Johnny’s hand on your knee underneath the table pulls you back to reality. You refocus on the flute glass placed in front of you by the waiter.
“I admire loyal employees who still have heart for others.” He lifts his whiskey glass towards you and Johnny before taking a sip.
“You say the company’s morale has gotten better. How’d you manage that?” This time, Mrs. Perez asks as she looks at you, intrigued by your answer.
“It all comes down to listening to the team. Some employees expressed wanting to move departments while others felt they needed more support. With the new income flow, we’re able to hire more people in the departments that need it.” You lay out a general gist of the plan implemented, watching Mr. Perez’s head in approval.
“I also think the new mandatory vacation days also helps the team a lot.” Johnny adds, rubbing his palms against his pants. “It gives all of us time to decompress when we need it.”
“And that’s something you brought from your home company, right?” Mrs. Perez asks.
You proudly nod, sipping the champagne from your glass. You feel Johnny’s palm slide down your spine before casually retracting.
“I’m going to be honest with you both.” Mr. Perez sighs, finger tapping on the whiskey glass he was presented with. “I’ve struggled partnering with this company because the revenue stream was completely unstable, to say the least.”
You nod, watching the couple exchange glances. Mrs. Perez gives her husband a small, quick nod as she takes a sip of her drink.
“But it does sound like the company has improved drastically. I am worried about the future after you leave, Y/N. I heard there’s another 6 months or so left of your contract?”
You nod once more. The termination of your temporary contract isn’t a secret to Johnny, though neither of you delved that deep into what’s happening when it eventually comes.
“I don’t think that’s something to worry about. John knows the strategy just as much as I do. He’ll be left in charge and we all know he’s just as capable as I am.” You reassure the client, feeling so close to closing the partnership you could practically taste it on your tongue.
There’s a twinkle in Johnny’s light brown eyes when he looks at you and the couple in front of you notices how fond Johnny is of you. Mr. Perez grins, looking at Johnny before clearing his throat and catching Johnny’s attention.
“It finally sounds like a place I wouldn’t mind partnering with.” Mr. Perez states with confidence. Pulling out his phone, he opens his email. “The contracts were sent, yes? I remember having my lawyer look—ah, I found it.”
And in just a few minutes, your phone beeps and the signed contract sits in your email’s inbox.
Johnny curls his fingers into a fist under the table and you do the same, giving each other a fist bump for a job well done in securing another client — especially one that the company has its eyes on for a few years now.
The waiter finally brings the food you ordered earlier, presenting it in front of all four of you. Mrs. Perez grins and clasps her hands together. ”Now that contracts are signed. I’d love to hear more about you two!”
❁❁❁❁❁
“Closing with a client before the main course arrived?” Johnny flashes you a grin and gives you a head nod of approval. “That’s very impressive…” He presses the elevator button and steps behind you, shielding you from the group of men and their wandering eyes. “…and so, so hot.”
You carefully back into Johnny and feel his fingers gently brush against the fabric hugging your hips. “Hot?” You question with a quiet chuckle.
“Yes, hot. You know, synonymous with sexy, desirable, attractive.” Johnny whispers in your ear and goosebumps rise from your skin. “It took every muscle in my body not to jump you at the table.”
“You helped a lot, too. You deserve the recognition as well.” You tilt your head to look up at him.
Just as he leans forward to give you a well-deserved kiss, the steel doors open and catch his attention instead. Johnny sticks his arm out as you step inside. Strangers begin to shuffle in, including the men with wandering eyes. Leaning onto Johnny’s side, he slings his arm over your shoulders and pulls you into his embrace to keep you close as bodies begin to fill the metal box you’re in.
“We make a great team, don’t we?” You softly say as you look up at him, your chin pressing into his chest. “Couldn’t have done this without you.”
Johnny gives you a gentle kiss to your forehead. His embrace is so warm and alluring, you don’t realize the men scanning your body but Johnny does. When he pulls away, a pout quickly forms on your lips. You watch him swiftly remove his dark suit jacket and sling it behind you to cover your backside.
“They’re staring, aren’t they?” You quietly whisper into his ear when he pulls you back into his embrace.
Johnny simply hums, relishing in the envy radiating off the men. The elevator stops on another floor and the elevator clears out, leaving only you and Johnny and the men that can’t seem to take their eyes off you. Taking the initiative, you lower one of Johnny’s hands to your rear. His palm lays flat on your ass before he realizes what you want him to do. A quick squeeze of your plush backside makes you giggle against his shirt and you earn a snicker from one of the men behind you.
The elevator comes to a stop on your floor and Johnny gestures for you to walk out first, strutting out behind you with the confidence you love most about him. Though, he doesn’t stop himself from giving the men a smug look as he moves past them knowing they’d never get a chance to be with you like he is.
A small beep from the card reader on your door is heard as you swipe your key card. It doesn’t take long until you’re pressed against the door with Johnny’s lips weaving with yours.
“You’ve done so well, baby,” he whispers softly between kisses.
You smile against his mouth, fisting his linen shirt to pull him closer as you arch into him. “Thank you,” you quietly sigh.
Your lips part and your eyes glaze over when Johnny’s lips brush down your jaw and trails kisses to your collarbone. Your fingers rake through his hair, silently encouraging him as his hand snakes behind you to slowly unzip your dress.
The fabric falls to your feet and his mouth drags down your chest, gently pecking the skin filling out of your bra perfectly. His lips drag down your sternum and plants kisses just above your belly button. Johnny slowly lowers to his knees, as if you’re a temple he’s worshipping.
“So proud of you,” he murmurs against your skin, “let me reward you.”
You sigh, letting his words soak into your bones while he trails lower between your thighs. Kissing the pretty fabric over your pelvis, Johnny looks up at you through his lashes watching the way your tongue peeks between your lips just before they slack open.
Without a word spoken, you lift your leg over his broad shoulder and a sharp edged smile slices across his face. “My gorgeous girl, you’re so good for me.”
You shudder at his praise and Johnny grazes his lips over the wetness pooling from anticipation. You let out a quiet whimper and your thighs begin to tremble as he kisses down the thin fabric over your slit that’s separating your pretty pussy from the endless pleasure his mouth gives.
Pulling the pretty fabric aside, his pointed tongue licks a long strip between your slit and his tip swipes over your clit, making a soft moan escape from your lips. Parting your slick folds, he consumes your throbbing heat messily. Saliva runs down his chin and the sweet taste of you on his tongue.
Your heart pounds against your chest a mile a minute and your fingers run through the roots of his hair, pulling him closer to your soaking heat. When his tongue circles around your entrance, your breath hitches in anticipation — feeling his smooth tongue muscle harden at its tip right before it penetrates you, fucking your hole while the pad of his thumb circles your bud of nerves. Your jaw drops and the back of your head presses into the door, hands desperately gripping onto the surface of the flattened wall in an attempt to ground yourself.
Johnny looks up at you, eyes darkening and pupils blown out at the sight of your chest heaving and the whites of your eyes glazing over right before it flutters shut. His fingers replace his tongue, planting his lips glistening with your wetness on yours — tasting yourself with every slow and calculated movement of his swollen lips. A quiet moan slips from your lips and fills the empty space between your kisses when Johnny’s fingers meet your sweet spot.
“Oh god,” you whine, wrapping your arms around Johnny and pulling his body impossibly close. His forehead presses into your shoulder before his tongue circles your skin and pulls it taut, leaving a discolored mark while you’re nothing but breathless pants and a moaning mess.
Your walls tighten around his fingers and your nails helplessly scrape the material covering his biceps, feeling the coil tighten in the pit of your stomach. When his lips find yours again, you're dizzy — lightheaded from bliss and ecstasy as he tickles the right spot that’s sure to bring you to your knees and he certainly won’t stop until you’re helplessly sobbing in pleasure.
You succumb to pleasure, writhing at the mercy of the man in front of you. You choke out a sob, feeling the dam burst inside of you and releasing the floodgates of your pleasure. And just as he expected, your trembling thighs give in and you fall to the floor, desperately trying to press your knees together only to have your wrists pinned to the door while his fingers desperately fuck your pretty cunt until you’re coming on him again.
”Wanna be good for me, sweetheart?” Johnny whispers against your mouth.
You rapidly nod, vision slowly blurring as your mind rattles and your body melts at his touch.
“Then come for me again.” He softly growls, thrusting his digits until he’s knuckles deep inside you with every pump. “Come again and I promise I’ll fuck this pretty pussy just how you love it.”
Your wrists go limp as you feel another wave of pleasure hits you, back arching off the solid door behind you and knees pressing together instinctively. You whine out Johnny’s name as your body squirms, heart frantically pounding against your chest. When your eyes squeeze shut to stop the room from spinning, Johnny’s lips press against your temple.
“That’s it, baby.” Johnny coos, slowly releasing your wrists from his grasp and pulling his fingers out of your dripping hole. Gripping his wrist, you guide his fingers to your tongue, tasting your slick on his digits.
Pulling you off the floor, your fingers work diligently to undo the buttons of his shirt. His hands plant themselves onto your hips to pull your body close while his lips move between yours, soothing the tugs on your lower lip with a swipe of his tongue. Slipping the fabric of his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, Johnny tosses his shirt across the room.
When the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed, you stumble onto the mattress, giggling against Johnny’s lips when he hovers over your body pressing a hand into the mattress. There’s an admiration in his eyes as he soaks in the sight of you — your hands bashfully covering your heated face, the curvature of your hips easily making his cock hard at the sight of them, and your knees pulled together with your feet pressed into the sheets to expose your aroused core that seemingly reverts Johnny back to a horny virgin desperate to fuck for the first time — only this time his stamina is out of this world.
You watch as he carefully undoes his leather belt before his pants and boxer briefs are left in a pile near the bed. Your knees part when his hand strokes his shaft, tip leaking out his thick pre-cum. Johnny tilts your hips up and dips between your thighs, lining his throbbing cock with your entrance before pushing in. A breathy sigh escapes you, your walls quickly swallowing and adjusting to Johnny’s impressive size that easily fills you like no other man could.
A groan parts Johnny’s lips, your warmth feeling like nothing short of acceptance. His hand snakes under you, smoothly unclipping your bra. Your mounds spill out as you pull off the fabric, tossing it away as Johnny’s tongue wastes no time rolling over your perky nipples and tugging it between his teeth.
His hips move languidly, rocking back and forth as he pumps his shaft between your velvety walls. His lips hover over yours, a quiet gentle breath ghosting over your lips just before he tilts your chin and grips your jaw as his tongue slides over yours. He nips your lip softly, soothing it with a quick lap of his tongue then drags open mouth kisses against the side of your neck and collarbone.
His movements are intoxicating, wanting to drink him in for as long as possible.
But your body burns with a feverish want: a want for more. A want for Johnny and his ability to make you feel breathless and overwhelmed and sexy and confident all with the thrust of his hips.
Your legs wrap around his waist, desperately keeping him close and you hear a quiet grunt. He presses his forehead with yours, lips giving you the softest kisses laced with a breathtaking touch. His fingers fill the empty spaces between yours, pinning your hand into the sheets before caressing the back of your head with the other in preparation for what’s coming next.
His hips move frantically, your thighs pushing against his thrusts and unraveling your hold on his waist. Your body jerks up and down while your mouth falls open in a silent moan, feeling the friction of your swollen clit rubbing against his skin. Your nails scrape down Johnny’s back, his quiet grunts in your ear. Heat paints across your chest and up your throat. Your hand drops to the sheets, fisting them as Johnny’s brutal hips snap into you.
“Don’t stop,” you plead, helplessly begging him as you quickly lose your composure with every slam Johnny fucks into you.
Your forehead presses into his shoulder, managing to wrap your legs around his waist once more. You’re pathetically spiraling, despite how hard you’re trying to hold on. Your grip tightens around Johnny’s hand and he presses it deeper into the mattress. Your thighs tremble as they cling onto his hips weakly trying to keep him from pulling out completely. The unbearable rush of heat builds, builds, and builds — then snaps! Your voice breaks when you cry out his name, moaning helplessly through the pleasure.
A groan deep from his chest rumbles in your ear when your walls flutter around his cock. He thrusts deeper instinctively, your hips lifting off the bed and fingers digging into your waist harshly. With one last powerful thrust and a strangled groan, hot spurts of his cum spill inside you — filling you up until you’re fully loaded with his seed.
You tilt his chin, bringing his lips to yours and pulling him closer with every kiss. “Are you okay?” You whisper, running your hands through his hair.
Johnny quietly huffs out a laugh, slightly nodding as the tip of his nose rubs against yours. “I’m—” He confidently sighs with a smile, catching his breath while his palms slide up and down your soft skin. “—fucking great. I could do this forever with you.”
You breathe out a chuckle when Johnny buries his face into the crook of your neck. Running your fingers through the back of his hair, you allow yourself, just for a second, to wonder what forever would be like with him, too.
— The Fool & The Bodyguard.
The elevator doors slide open and you run into Johnny looking angelic with his fresh haircut and a lopsided smile upon seeing you. “Perfect! Choi wants to see us in his office.” Johnny lets out, stepping into the elevator next to you.
“What for?” You ask, trying to hide the way your mind is starting to build the worst case scenario for this impromptu meeting.
Johnny presses the intended floor number and waits for the metal doors to close. When it does, Johnny presses a reassuring kiss to your temple like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “Don’t worry, boss. It’s about scoring Mr. Perez.”
“That’s what he said?” Looking up at him, your eyes immediately fill with worry.
“He didn’t have to.” Johnny cups the back of your head, stroking it to further comfort you. “There was a pep in his voice when he called. We’re fine, baby. I promise.”
You nod, still hesitant, but Johnny’s confidence is enough to make you feel better. When you reach the designated floor, you closely follow Johnny as he weaves through the halls like he’s familiar; as if he belongs there.
“Good morning, Nadine.” Johnny greets Mr. Choi’s secretary with a radiant smile. “Looking beautiful as always.”
The older woman in her late 50s smiles coyly, pushing her turtle shell glasses up her nose and quickly flattening the fly away hairs on her head.
“Charming as usual, John.” Nadine quietly chuckles. “Mr. Choi is in his office, go right in.”
You give Nadine a small nod as a thank you, the older woman mirroring your movements. When you’re finally out of earshot, you tug on Johnny’s bicep.
“Are you always such a flirt?” You tease, an eyebrow quirking and the corner of your mouth threatening to lift.
“Her ex-husband left her for a younger woman,” Johnny whispers. “If a little reassurance helps her, I don’t mind giving it.” With a playful wink, he slides his long fingers into the pockets of his black slacks. “Plus she makes the best rice porridge and brings it from time to time for me and Doyoung, so I need to stay on her good side.” Johnny’s eyes crinkle when his lips curve into a honey-sweet grin.
As each day passes, you find yourself completely enamored by Johnny. It’s the most beautiful and yet terrifying feeling wrapped into one. Aside from Johnny, there was only one guy you’ve ever felt this way for and it was your first college boyfriend — the only man that you couldn’t find the heart to hate because there was nothing to hate him for, even after the breakup when it ended amicably.
“Ready to head in?” Johnny’s voice coaxes you back to where you are and you give him a nod, following right behind him.
“My two favorite people!” Mr. Choi beams with a goofy smile and the most annoying kiss ass tone that makes you want to strangle him. “Come in, sit!” He gestures over to the chairs in front of his desk, but you and Johnny both opt to stand where you are — a silent and petty agreement that neither of you are willing to do anything Mr. Choi says, even something as simple as asking you to sit.
“We’re fine here,” you state. “You wanted to speak with us?”
“Yes!” Mr. Choi clasps his hands together. “I don’t know what you did to get Mr. Perez on board, but you two are magic! The board was impressed and I was thinking—” He moves closer to the two of you, eyes widening with a hint of crazy in them. “—the Evermore group!”
“E-Excuse me?” You croak, looking at Johnny whose brows immediately furrow as he scoffs in disbelief. “What’s the Ever—”
“No. Absolutely not.” Johnny interjects, tone dripping in seriousness. “That’s the board’s responsibility to impress, not us.”
Mr. Choi looks at you, then back at Johnny. “They thought it was their responsibility to get Perez but you two proved them wrong!” The manager exclaims. “Think about it! How great would it look for you two to win over the Evermore group!”
“And how stupid we’d look when we don’t get them on board!” Johnny raises his voice. “What’s the real reason Choi? Wanna impress execs to get on the board, too? Is that it?”
Mr. Choi is taken aback, shaking his head. “Listen, I just figured you both wanted to prove yourselves.”
“We’be proven ourselves enough.” Johnny huffs, clearly seething at the comment.
Mr. Choi looks at you, gears turning in his head and formulating a manipulation tactic that would get you on board. “And what do you think, Y/N? Think you’ve proven yourself enough?” He asks.
“She’s the reason why Perez even signed with us! Don’t you dare make her feel like she hasn’t proven herself.” Johnny warns, clenching his jaw. “She saved your job, Choi.”
Johnny takes an intimidating step forward, towering over the manager. His hand forms a fist, veins protruding the back of his hand. It’s clear Johnny is seconds away from doing something he’ll regret.
You clear your throat, stepping forward until you’re side by side with your partner. With a calming hand to Johnny’s back, you look at Mr. Choi. Straightening your posture, you conjure up your confidence.
“Get the board’s approval and we’ll discuss it further.” You sternly say, holding eye contact with the man in front of you while Johnny takes the moment to pace back and forth — an attempt to calm himself down.
Mr. Choi scoffs, running his hands over his mouth before he sniffs. “I already set up a meeting with the group.”
Your eyes widen, blood boiling in your veins. Johnny’s pacing comes to an abrupt halt, feeling his presence behind you.
“I surely hope you mean with the executives and not with the Evermore group.” You warn through gritted teeth. “If it’s the latter, not only did you go against the higher-ups, but you fucked me and John over. So tell me, again, which group did you set up a meeting with, Choi.”
You and Johnny both hold your breaths, your hands clenching into fists ready to deck this stupid manager's face.
“The Evermore group.” Mr. Choi pathetically shares, voice nearly trembling in fear though he tries to hide it.
“Call them and cancel!” Johnny shouts, startling the man. You’re sure everyone outside his office can hear Johnny, but every fiber in your body wants to scream at the insufferable and irresponsible man, too.
“It’s not gonna look good for the company.” Mr. Choi argues, making his way behind his desk to put some distance between the taller man seething with anger.
“I don’t care!” Johnny exclaims. “I swear to god Choi, I’ll break your face in.”
By the manager’s reaction, these screaming matches aren’t new, otherwise he’d call HR on Johnny the second the words slipped from his lips. And, unfortunately for the first time, Mr. Choi was right.
“A retraction will ruin the rapport.” You quietly say under your breath. “It’ll ruin credibility.”
Johnny looks at you, watching the way you calculate the possible outcomes in your head. Johnny knows that you certainly know best when it comes to this problem — it’s essentially your job to clean up a company’s mess. But this? This is a lot of mess the company didn’t make, Mr. Choi did and dragged everyone else through the shit with him.
“It’s your call, boss.” Johnny says looking at you, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Well…” Mr. Choi sucks the air between his teeth, pulling his trousers higher up his waist. “I think you two should—”
Both you and Johnny look up at Mr. Choi speaking, clearly assuming Johnny’s nickname for you was meant for him.
“Not you!” Johnny snaps, frustration through the roof.
Mr. Choi’s face reddens in embarrassment. Nodding his head before taking a seat and burning a hole into you as he stares in anticipation, waiting for your decision.
“We need to speak with Mina and Doyoung. They’re gonna be tangled up in this, too.” You inform Johnny who simply nods in agreement. Then you look at Mr. Choi. “You better hope and pray they’re on board. If they’re not, you’re absolutely screwed by the board.”
“B-but you make the final decision, right?” Mr. Choi stutters as he stands before Johnny gives him the meanest scowl, having him settle back down in his chair. “I mean, you ultimately decide if you’ll take on the challenge?”
“Yes.” You firmly reply, palms pressing into his desk as you look at him dead in the eyes. “So do not fuck me over like this again. Is that clear?”
Mr. Choi nods, gulping down nervously. “Crystal clear.”
Johnny holds the door open for you and this time you lead the way back to the elevator. Your mind frantically begins to rattle with a million things at once while your body shakes from the anger still coursing through you. When the doors slide close, Johnny’s large hand finds yours, keeping his sights set on the reflection in front of him — still clearly upset about the interaction, and needing to ground himself with your touch.
“I’m here. Anything you need, I’m here.” Johnny reassures quietly, squeezing your hand in the process. “It’ll be okay.”
You stay quiet, still reeling from outrage. But you give Johnny’s hand a reassuring squeeze, too, letting him know you’re holding his words close to your heart.
❁❁❁❁❁
Later that evening, Johnny stopped by with an early dinner and stayed for dessert and a movie. The night ended with a back rub that turned into back shots to help the both of you take a break from tossing around ideas to win over the Evermore group.
“I’m worried about you, Johnny.” You sigh as you’re wrapped in his arms and your legs tangled up with the sheets.
A small chuckle parts Johnny’s lips. “Yeah? And why’s that, my love?”
You relish in the nicknames Johnny gives you as he pulls you closer to his bare chest. His palm slides down your spine and stops at your plush rear, giving you a squeeze until your skin spills between his fingers.
“Will you be able to handle the new intern while helping me prepare for the presentation?” You quietly question while you run your fingers over his defined abdomen area. “I wouldn’t want you to spread yourself thin.”
“I’ll figure it out,” Johnny says with his mouth pressed to your forehead. “I always do.”
“Think you’ll make time for me?” You tease, hand teasingly tugging on the waistband of his boxers. Slipping it under the fabric, you feel his tip twitch when your fingers brush against his skin.
Part of you didn’t mean for it to sound as serious, but a somber expression washes over Johnny’s features tells you that you struck a cord.
“Does that genuinely worry you?” Johnny softly asks, gently busying your teasing hand when he laces his fingers between the spaces of yours. “That I won’t have time for us?”
If you’re honest — yes, it’s a looming feeling that’s dawned on you from time to time since talks about an intern shadowing Johnny came up. With an intern glued to his hip majority of the day for months, it’ll be nearly impossible to have alone time during work hours and the dread of him losing interest has reared its ugly head from time to time.
“No,” you lie, forcing a huff of laughter.
Johnny gives you a knowing look — one that’ll easily make you crumble until you tell him the truth. The look that you’ve done a good job at avoiding 80% of the time with lame and pathetic excuses that you’re sure Johnny chooses to look past.
“I’m gonna get some water, want some?” You don’t bother to wait for an answer from him because your robe is on and you’re already making your way to your kitchen to fill up a glass cup. You brace yourself against your kitchen counter, sipping on your water as your train of thoughts derail and crash into uncharted territory.
You hear Johnny’s footsteps before he rounds the corner of the hallway and into the kitchen. His hands slide across your hips and he kisses your forehead. “I’ll make time for us baby,” he says against your skin. “Don’t worry about it.”
— Meeting the New Intern.
“Good morning, ma chérie!” Mina greets in the lobby, eyes twinkling as she smiles at you. “Ready to meet the new interns today?”
Pressing her slim finger against the elevator’s call button, both hands grip the straps of her handbag in front of her. You mindlessly nod as she spoke, blabbering on and on about her personal experience with an internship, how she’s utterly empathetic towards them, and how she tried convincing her point of contact to take on an intern but was adamantly shut down every time she brought it up.
“…Doyoung refused and I tried to convince him it’d be a learning opportunity but he isn’t budging. He is one tough son of a gun, I’ll admit that.” Mina rambles, stepping into the elevator once it clears out. “I hear John’s taking one. That’s exciting right?”
You press a tight smile to your lips and nod, silently agreeing with her.
You haven’t told Mina about your impromptu date nights with Johnny — both close to home and out of the city on work trips. She’d swoon over the fact that Johnny buys you flowers every week to replace the ones that are starting to whither. She’d adore the way Johnny calls you every night because he can’t fall asleep otherwise. In fact, she’d be elated to find out your weekends are spent with Johnny talking about anything and everything and not alone like she thinks it’s usually spent.
Mina can’t help but see the distant look in your eyes as you stare off, clearly deep in thought. “Whoa, you’re so chatty this morning. Slow down, I can’t keep up.” Mina sarcastically says, quietly giggling to herself. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you sigh and flash Mina a small reassuring smile, “just a lot going on in my mind. Between the Evermore group and the new interns, I’m a little overwhelmed.”
Cocking her head, a confused look washes over her soft features. “What do the interns have to do with this?” She asks, tucking her long black hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t that be John’s problem, not yours?”
For a split second, you had wished you took on the intern and not him. Maybe then the brewing insecurities would have been kept at bay a little longer.
“Yes, but with John being extra busy with her, it’s less time for—”
“You?” Mina mischievously grins, lips parting and her tongue peeking just between her glossy lips.
“The presentation with Evermore.” You correct her, gently pushing her shoulder. You shake your head, but a tiny smile threatens your lips. “He has a lot on his plate. As much as John plays it cool, anyone can crumble under enough pressure. Plus, you heard Doyoung the other day. The group is known for ripping companies to shreds — nitpicking at everything presented. I just wish I wasn’t leading this.”
“Look on the bright side!” Mina’s cheshire grin tells you a smart ass comment is soon to follow. “You’re like our savior. No one else can do their job better than you can. And if you crash and burn, we will too! You won’t be alone. That’s comforting, right?”
You give Mina a look, watching her features break into an unserious expression. “I get your stress, but Mr. Choi sending you two off to close a deal without consulting the execs is premature and highly irresponsible.” Mina reminds you, a comforting hand squeezing your shoulder. “If you close the deal, it’s because of you. If you don’t, it’s not because you suck at your job, it’s because Mr. Choi sucks at his. Your best is always what’s important — that’s literally what you tell everyone. Time to start taking your own advice.”
You give her a grateful look, silently telling her what she already knows: that she’s right.
Before she could reply, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. You’re greeted by two familiar faces you see every morning; the dynamic duo as you like to refer to them.
“Morning ladies.” Chenle greets casually before returning to his phone while Jisung flushes a pink hue, still not quite ready to drop the formalities and still adding the label ‘Miss’ in front of your name.
“Morning guys!” Mina greets them happily and you give them a warm smile accompanied by a small wave. “Have the new interns arrived yet?” She asks, leaning over the reception desk.
“They’re being briefed in the conference room,” Chenle replies, eyes flicking towards the nearby room. “They should be done soon.”
“We should pop in!” Mina turns to you excitedly, gripping your wrist and already pulling you towards the room. As you and Mina turn the corner, you crash into the head of your IT department — Wonwoo Jeon.
“Sorry Wonwoo!” Mina profusely apologizes, turning bright red in the face.
Her office crush adjusts his thin rimmed glasses and offers her a polite smile. “It’s okay, Mina.” He says and you’re sure you feel her hand tighten around your wrist after he says her name. Then he looks at you. “Actually, I was just about to head to your office to find you. I need to update something on your laptop. Would it be okay if I take it for a bit?”
Mina drops your hand and steps aside, trying not to gawk at the handsome worker and making it painfully obvious of her infatuation with the quiet IT guy who always has his nose in a book during his downtime and the patience of a saint.
You hand Wonwoo your company laptop you held against your chest and eye the way Mina gulps and looks down at her pointed heels after looking at the way his hands flexes.
“I’ll come by and drop it off when I’m done.” Wonwoo says and you nod, both you and Mina watching as he walks down the hallway and into his office nearby.
Mina exhales the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her petite shoulders drop and relax before she looks at you. Before she could get her words out to explain her sudden change in personality, you begin to quietly giggle.
“You have a thing for Wonwoo?” You whisper, watching her cheeks flush in embarrassment.
“Shut up.” She threatens in a hushed tone. “If you will excuse me, I need to head into my office and calm down a bit. I’ll see you in our morning meeting.”
Mina walks away, still giddy from her interaction. You turn on your heels and head in the opposite direction towards your office. A familiar voice says your name and you turn your attention towards Johnny, then at the shorter woman next to him.
Her short dark brown hair is cut into a shoulder length bob and her wispy bangs end just under her eyebrows. She looks up at Johnny with her big brown eyes that sparkle under the office lights and her light poreless porcelain skin glows. She holds her laptop with both arms against her chest and a cute little handbag hanging off her petite shoulders.
You can’t help but notice how stunning she looks and a sudden knot in your stomach forms and tightens the deeper you try to push the feeling down.
“Hey, I wanna introduce you to my new intern. This is Chaewon.” Johnny looks down at the girl next to him, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Chaewon, this is Y/N. The one I was telling you about.”
“H-hi.” You stammer. “It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to the team.” You force a smile, hoping no one notices the way the corners of your mouth slightly tremble.
“You too!” Chaewon gleefully replies. “John says I’ll learn a lot just by being around you. He also says you slightly scare him, so I’m intrigued to see how you do it. Maybe I can use it on my brothers.” She jokingly says, beaming at Johnny with a radiant smile.
Your chest tightens at the way Chaewon looks up at Johnny with her pretty brown eyes. The young and beautiful intern who beat out hundreds of applicants will be working closely with Johnny for the next couple of months and your heart squeezes at the thought before you could stop it.
❁❁❁❁❁
You never viewed other women as competitors. In a male-dominated field, women in the office were friends — confidants — that you’d gravitate to. And you’ll be damned if that mindset crumbled over some guy who didn’t even ask you to be your boyfriend in the months you were sleeping together.
At least that’s what you kept telling yourself during your morning meaning with your team and Chaewon.
Mina, the social butterfly she is, made Chaewon feel at ease as you ran through the meeting. Even Doyoung, the ever focused employee, got distracted by Chaewon’s ability to be one of the few applicants to beat out hundreds of people for this internship. Dare you say, there was a spark of admiration in Doyoung’s eyes hearing the competitiveness Chaewon had in her when she shared her many first place achievements for the sports she participated in on the side. Even Johnny was distracted by his intern, intrigued by her as the minutes passed.
In your eyes, she’s the entire package — smart, athletic, attractive , ambitious, and talented. It’s like elementary school all over again — Chaewon is the new kid and everyone wants to be her friend.
And you can’t help the pang of jealousy you tried to distance yourself from.
“Any questions before we wrap up?” You say, feeling the entire room’s attention shift from Chaewon back to you.
“No, but I was thinking…” Mina chirps, stacking her notebook onto her laptop. “The five of us should have lunch together! It’ll help Chae get acclimated to the environment with a little help.”
“That’d be great!” Chaewon cheers, happily looking around at everyone around her before her eyes land on you. “I’d like to get to know you all more, too.”
Your lips twitch into a smile as your eyes land on Johnny, who looks at you with an apologetic expression knowing how you both would regularly spend your lunch breaks.
“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” You nod, slowly closing your laptop. “Does the café downstairs work?”
The other four people nod in agreement. Quickly packing up to leave.
“Great!” You smile, propping the door open for everyone. “See you guys at lunch. Have a great day.”
You quickly make your way to the office and lock yourself in there for the rest of the morning, burying yourself in preparation for the presentation and reports. That is, until Johnny’s name pops up on your phone.
❁❁❁❁❁
I’m sorry about lunch. Maybe we could have a late lunch together?
That won’t look good leaving your intern on her first day. You’re the only one she really trusts here, you can’t do that to her.
I’m sorry about the meeting, too. Everyone was distracted…
Me included. Sorry baby.
You’re good.
You’re upset.
I’m not.
You look upset. I can see directly into your office, remember?
Let me make it up to you. I’ll bring over dinner tonight and we can have our alone time like we intended.
You’re smiling. Is that a yes?
Yes.
Now stop texting during work hours. You’re distracting me.
Good.
See you at lunch, boss.
— An Uncomfortable Conversation & A New Drawer.
If you had a dime for the amount of times you and Johnny were able to sneak away for alone time during work hours these past couple of weeks, you’d have 40 cents — 50 if you include the time he snuck you a kiss when he dropped off reports right before Chaewon came back from lunch with other interns from the program.
Between the internship, separate meetings with clients, prepping a solid presentation for the Evermore group, and the promise Johnny made to his parents to see them more often, the time spent with him has dwindled significantly — both of you suddenly busier than ever.
But tonight, Johnny invited you over to his place for a spur of the moment date night in the middle of the week to make up for the loss of quality time spent between the two of you.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?” Johnny says, popping open a glass of beer for you.
“I don’t really like that quote,” you share, sipping on your drink.
Johnny chuckles, taking a seat in front of you. “And why’s that?” He smiles, intrigued by your sudden revelation.
“Because there’s always something to make it sound worse after it.” You shrug. “For instance, one of the worst renditions of that quote I’ve possibly read was ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder but too much makes it wander.’ Distance quite literally—”
“Where do you get this from?” Johnny’s laughter spills out like sunlight peeking through the blinds. His head tilts slightly and his eyes look at you with fondness.
“The Internet.” You shyly admit, taking a drawn out sip of your beer.
“Well, distance makes me miss you a lot despite what the internet says about it.” Johnny assures with a smile right before taking a swig of his drink.
“I miss you too,” you coyly admit, leaning back into your chair. “How are your parents? Do they love seeing you more often now that they’ve moved back home?”
“Yeah, a little too much if I’m being honest.” Johnny sucks the air between his teeth. “They’ve been nagging me about settling down. Moments like this make me wish I had an older sibling so I don’t have to go through this.”
The thought of settling down with Johnny crossed your mind every now and then, wondering what it’d be like to be with someone for the rest of your life. Though, you don’t dwell on the idea for too long because it’s always followed by the feeling of sadness.
“…and the mere mention of Chaewon being an intern got their ideas—”
You’re paralyzed and completely speechless. “Oh…you mentioned Chaewon?” You ask, your grip around the amber colored bottle tightens before you could notice it and set it down, convinced you could break it if you didn’t.
“Yeah. They asked how work was. I told them about the internship and me being one of the mentors.” Johnny’s obliviousness irritates you as he pokes his fork into the chicken he’s made.
“I’m assuming you also told them about the Evermore group, too?” Your eyes drop to your untouched plate of food. Picking up your fork, you move the vegetables around as you wait for Johnny’s answer.
“No.” Johnny shakes his head. “Once I start about how Choi got us into that mess, I won’t be able to stop.” He huffs out a chuckle, sipping on his drink to help wash down his food.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly going quiet as you begin to take small bites of the food made for you. You nod as Johnny speaks, though your mind has already gone elsewhere. It isn’t until Johnny’s warm hand on yours brings you back to the conversation.
“Sorry, I must be boring you with all this internship talk. Let’s change the subject.” Johnny quickly says, holding your hand in his. “How’s the presentation going? I can take a look at it tomorrow if you’d like.”
When you pull your hand away, Johnny’s stomach twists uncomfortably.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to not talk about work.” You quietly let out, avoiding eye contact with him. “I just…I don’t feel like talking about what’s stressing me out.”
“Understandable.” Johnny nods. “I-I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“You’re good.” With a deep inhale, you muster up the courage to look at Johnny and paint a small smile across your lips. “Tell me more about your parents. What are they like?”
❁❁❁❁❁
“Okay, no peeking.” Johnny playfully warns as his hands press over your eyes. He guides you, from behind, down the hallway and into his bedroom. When you come to a stop, Johnny lowers his hands and you slowly open your eyes.
“You got a new drawer.” You suspiciously state, confused with the surprise he said he got you.
“Yes, but it’s actually for you. I thought it would be easier to have some of your stuff here than to always pack an overnight bag.” Johnny grins, clearly proud of himself.
You don’t have the heart to bring up and remind him of the eventual termination of your contract, opting to not ruin the kind gesture and thought he put into this.
“I hope it isn’t too forward of me to do this.” Johnny rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his spur of the moment trip to IKEA. “I just want you to feel comfortable here. If you hate it—”
“I love it.” You gently correct, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling your cheek against his chest. “Thank you, it’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me.” You feel his body relax at your words, cupping the back of your head endearingly.
“Think you love it enough to want to stay the night?” Johnny bashfully asks. “I don’t expect us to do anything, of course. I just…I wanna be with you.”
When you look up and your eyes meet his, you both smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over the both of you like you both were finally able to breathe again. You nod, brushing your lips over his.
“I’d love to stay here with you.”
— The Flirty Client & A Jealous Worker.
Chaewon sits in the back of the meeting room, observing the way you and Johnny work together to win over yet another partnership. Her eyes don’t stray away from you, completely fascinated with the way you eloquently speak with confidence and assurance. Jotting down her observations, she notices the way one particular member from the group can’t keep his eyes off you, too — the one who introduced himself as Jeonghan Yoon, from some company in the east coast.
“Are there any questions?” You ask, a charming smile dancing against your lips.
The group look at each other, completely won over by you and Johnny’s teamwork. Shaking their head, they begin opening their complimentary folders, signing the contract placed in them.
“Chaewon, would you collect the paperwork please?” Johnny asks and Chaewon eagerly gets up, nodding her head and circling the table. She watches the way you and Johnny move around each other — with fluidity and ease, clearly comfortable with one another.
When Chaewon gathers the papers, she hands them to Johnny. “We’ll go ahead and make copies, then update the files.” Johnny tells his intern, stuffing the papers in a folder. Johnny then turns to you. “I’ll get you the updated list of clients by the end of today.”
“Great, thank you.” You smile.
“Could I meet with you sometime today?” Chaewon asks you, batting her lashes. “I think your presentation was amazing and I’d like to ask a few questions for my observation notes.”
“Sure,” you chuckle. “I’ll come find you after my next meeting.”
“She’s right, your presentation was amazing.” An unfamiliar voice interjects itself in the conversation. When you look up, you’re greeted by a good looking client. “I’m Jeonghan. You’re Y/N, right?”
From the peripheral, you see Johnny’s posture straighten to its full height. Chaewon notices too as her eyes flick back to Johnny and the new client.
“Y-yeah, hi,” You smile politely. “Thank you for the compliment. It’s a skill that comes with the job.”
“Sure,” Jeonghan grins, “but the way you do it is captivating.”
“I agree. We’re glad she transferred here.” Johnny interrupts, clearing his throat. “She’s amazing at her job.”
“She really is!” Chaewon adds, voice dripping with admiration.
You smile at Johnny, then Chaewon. Heat suddenly creeps up onto your face, feeling too aware of the eyes on you.
“Well, I’m looking forward to working with you.” Jeonghan smirks, eyes lingering on you a little too long for Johnny’s liking before flicking to Johnny himself. “Both of you, of course.”
You’re unaware of the breath you’re holding until Johnny places a gentle hand on your back. “Thank you all for your time,” Johnny says before proceeding to guide you out the door with Chaewon following closely behind the two of you.
“Oh my god, Mr. Yoon is so into you!” Chaewon quietly says to you, though her words don’t escape Johnny’s line of hearing.
“Chaewon,” Johnny sternly snaps, easily halting the three of you. “That comment is inappropriate. This isn’t some school hallway for gossip.”
Chaewon’s cheeks blush red, clearly embarrassed that Johnny scolded her. “I-I’m sorry. You’re right, I—” Chaewon looks at you, blinking rapidly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That comment was out of line.”
“You’re fine,” you quickly say, soothing her embarrassment the best you can. “It’s important to remember they’re clients in a professional setting. Sometimes politeness can be mistaken for flirtation. You’re learning, it’s okay.”
You watch her nod as her eyes fall to the floor. “I’m sorry again. You’re right, he’s probably just really polite.”
You knew better than to think Jeonghan was only being polite. He was flirting, that much is clear.
With the way Johnny instinctively made himself appear taller earlier and how his hand tightly grips the folder he’s holding now, not to mention snapping at his intern the way he did, he knew Jeonghan was flirting, too.
And he didn’t like it.
❁❁❁❁❁
Johnny’s text comes as a surprise while you’re compiling reports.
Meet me in my car for lunch.
When you do, you find yourself in the backseat straddling Johnny’s lap as you’re frantically lip locking with him like old times. His fingers brush away the strands of hair that’s fallen out of your updo before cupping the side of your neck.
“What’s gotten into you?” You giggle between kisses as Johnny chases your lips with his.
His hand slides down your back, hiking up your pencil skirt until the fabric bunches around your waist. His hand travels down to your ass to grip a handful of your skin until it spills between the spaces of his fingers.
“I hate seeing someone flirting with you so blatantly,” Johnny admits, forehead pressing against yours. There’s an edge to his voice that makes your insides tingle with excitement. “Especially in front of me.”
You try to bite back a smirk, feeling the bulge in his pants harden when your slick seeps through your panties as your hips rock back and forth. The friction against your covered slit causes a trembling sigh to escape from between your lips.
“I need to know you’re mine.” Johnny breathes, lips hovering over yours. “Tell me, baby. Tell me no one else can steal you away from me.”
Your fingers desperately undo Johnny’s leather belt and the button of his slacks as you mindlessly nod while your swollen lips weave with Johnny’s. “I’m yours.” You whimper, hand slipping into his pants and tugging on his thick and hardened shaft. You repeat his words back to him as he lifts his hips and drops his pants down to his knees.
Johnny reaches into his middle console, pulling out a condom wrapper from a well used open box of condoms that he keeps for moments like this. Ripping the foil wrapper with his teeth, he smoothly slides the protection over his throbbing cock then pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side before lifting his hips.
As you sink onto him, Johnny groans against your mouth and slides his tongue over yours. With a harsh thrust, your body is flushed against his and you breathe out a sigh of pleasure, enjoying the way he fits perfectly inside you.
Your fingers work fast to unbutton your blouse, allowing the soft fabric to slip off your shoulders and down your arms. Johnny’s swollen lips brush against your collarbone then down your cleavage. He presses kisses onto your pillowy mounds that are nearly spilling out of your pretty lace bra. Pulling your skin between his teeth, the delicious sting mixes with the pleasure of his thrusts that’s leaving you panting and breathless.
His hands clutch your hips, holding you in place as he bucks up and into you mercilessly. Johnny huffs and his breath warms your skin as his brutal pace ignites a fire behind your bellybutton. The tip of his cock presses into the sweet and soft button that sends nothing but pleasure through your body. With the way your aroused clit rubs against the skin at the base of his shaft, your head falls back, and your nails dig into his shoulders.
The heat begins fogging up the windows and every nerve in your body pulls tight until you finally snap — your entire body dissolving into pleasure right before it falls onto his chest.
His hips begin to stutter and his balls tighten while you desperately whine into his ear, begging him to come. His cock twitches and his cum releases in sharp pulses, hand snaking around the back of your neck and yanking you down to his lips while his hips thrust deeper on instinct.
Johnny’s eyes screw shut and his brows draw tightly together, his lips hovering over yours as he intakes a sharp inhale. “God you’re absolutely perfect,” Johnny praises, pressing a smile against your lips. “I’m so fucking lucky.”
— The Comforting Fort.
You hate to admit the way you’ve kept your distance from Chaewon for the past month. It’s no secret that she thrives on your attention and it’s starting to feel less flattering and more annoying. Regardless, being around her makes your stomach twist and your anxiety rise.
You’ve also been noticing the way Chaewon looks at Johnny, and as much as you tell yourself you’re looking too deep into it, there’s a glint in her eyes when she looks at him. You’re not sure if it’s from admiration or lust, maybe both, but it’s enough to make you feel sick to your stomach. And it certainly doesn’t help overhearing Chaewon’s friends, over lunch when they think you’re out of earshot, gush over how handsome Johnny is and how lucky Chaewon is to be around him all the time. Chaewon tries to shush them and change the subject, but the way she blushes is telling.
Johnny has also begun to stay later than usual, helping Chaewon with her internship observations and filling out the necessary paperwork that he doesn’t have time for throughout the day.
What’s even worse is your mind has started to betray you, making you feel utterly insecure as the months go by despite trying your best to stay afloat.
And you hate it.
You hate the way it’s starting to seep into your life — affecting your sleep, your concentration, and more importantly your confidence is slowly beginning to wither away with comparisons to the young and beautiful intern that Johnny has spent so much time with. You also hate the way you’re scared to talk to Johnny about everything because you’re too afraid your vulnerability will equate to not being the confident person he wants.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Johnny says, stroking your bare arm as you’re tangled up in your sheets with him. Your favorite movie plays idle in the background, serving as white noise while both you and Johnny still reel from back to back pleasure to make up for the lack of quality time spent between the two of you. “Is everything okay?”
You nod, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Everything’s fine.”
“Yeah? Then why don’t I believe you?” He quietly scolds and you give him a quiet chuckle, feeling him pull your naked body closer to his. “You’d tell me if something’s wrong, right?” Johnny asks, gently lacing his fingers between yours. “Like if I did something wrong, you’d tell me.”
You nod again, watching the way he softly kisses each of your knuckles. Tilting your chin slightly, he presses a kiss to your lips.
For a moment, everything feels right in the world and all of your worries disappear. Johnny has always been good at that, making you stay present and focusing on just him.
A little too good, sometimes.
But it certainly does feel nice.
Johnny doesn’t say it but he senses your unwillingness to be around Chaewon. He notices the way you tense up around the mention of her, so he’s tried his best not to bring her up. But he finds it difficult when his work life and personal life weave seamlessly together.
Like now, when Johnny’s work phone notification comes in and it’s from Chaewon.
Your lungs tighten and the knot in your stomach tightens. The moment of peace you felt is shattered when Johnny makes it a point to reply to her message — letting you go in the process. A sting of rejection floods you and you try your best to bury it. It’s not Johnny’s fault; he’s being attentive, just not to you, and that isn’t a crime.
“Is that Chaewon?” You quietly ask, pulling your blanket higher up your chest. “Is everything okay?”
Johnny simply nods, eyes still glued to his work phone as his thumbs quickly reply to her message. “Just about tomorrow’s meeting. Nothing important.”
“She’s doing well at the company. You think she’ll apply when the internship is over?”
“Not sure.” Johnny sharply inhales, rereading the paragraph he typed out before sending it. “I hope so. She’s really hard working and the company could use someone as dedicated to work as she is.” Johnny silences his phone and places it on the nightstand, screen facing down. “She reminds me of you sometimes.”
You’re sure Johnny didn’t mean for that comment to get under your skin, but it does. If Chaewon reminds him of you, there’s a possibility he could—
No.
You stop your train of toxic thought, reminding yourself of Jaehyun’s words about his friend: loyal to a fault.
Johnny is a loyal man. He would never. But then again he doesn’t owe you loyalty, you’re not officially dating. He’s not your boyfriend.
Johnny’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his warmth. “Hey,” he whispers, kissing your temple. “Where’d you go just now?”
“Huh?” You look up at him, dazed by his words as you’re suddenly brought back to the moment.
“You looked deep in thought. What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, baby?”
“N-nothing.” Another small, tight smile paints your lips. “Just thinking about work.”
Johnny huffs in dissatisfaction. “That’s not good.”
“Why do you mean?”
“Thinking about work after I made you come three times means I didn’t do a good enough job at pleasing you like I thought I did.”
Johnny drags his lips down your neck, nose outlining your jawline. Your knees part instinctively and Johnny lowers himself between your thighs, his tip already probing your slick and creamy entrance.
“I’m so sorry, baby. Let me do better.”
❁❁❁❁❁
It’s difficult to sleep when your mind runs a mile a minute thinking about everything going wrong in your life. Normally, Johnny sleeping next to you is enough to help you sleep through the night, but lately his presence hasn’t had that effect.
Carefully swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you tip toe your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. The apartment is quiet and being alone with your thoughts are starting to make you feel lonelier than ever.
As you make it back to the bedroom, you catch Johnny stirring in his sleep. His soft snores and the ticking of the analog clock perched just above the bed fills the room. You settle on a single seater armchair next to the window, quietly taking in the view of the neighborhood surrounding the apartment. Swinging your legs over the armrest, you try to quiet down your loud thoughts enough to realize how tired you are, hoping you’d be able to fall asleep right then and there.
But five minutes quickly turn into 40 and you’re still wide awake, holding the empty glass cup you finished 15 minutes ago.
Johnny’s arm tries to sling over your body, only for it to fall flat onto the mattress. His eyes flutter open, realizing you aren’t next to him like he thought. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he spots you staring out the window so lost in thought even his sleepy voice isn’t enough to break you from your trance.
Making his way over, he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your body jerks forward, startled by his touch before he profusely apologizes.
“Sorry baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He kneels to your eye level, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Are you having a hard time sleeping?”
You nod, your gaze landing on the empty cup you’ve been circling the rim of. “Just a lot on my mind, but I’m okay.” You say, gently cupping your palm against his cheek. “You can go back to bed. I’ll be there in a bit.”
Johnny scans your features, eyes quickly softening when he realizes how weary you look. You’ve never had the best sleeping schedule, always working into the early mornings, but Johnny could tell this type of exhaustion was different and he wished you could confide in him, but he didn’t want to push in fear of scaring you away.
“Wait here.” Johnny quietly says. You watch as he gathers extra pillows and blankets and makes his way into the living room, unsure of what he’s doing.
When you walk out of the bedroom to place the cup in the sink, you can’t help but notice the way Johnny uses the backing of chairs and the sofa to hold up the blankets. The coffee table in the middle of the room has been pushed to the side and it’s only when Johnny begins to throw the pillows under the makeshift ceiling made of blankets and comforters, you realize he made a fort big enough to fit the both of you — and in record breaking time.
“Ta-da!” He proudly says, presenting his improvised shelter. “I used to make forts in my room when I was a kid and couldn’t sleep. I’d sleep on the floor and wake up with my parents asking why I’d choose the floor over my bed. I thought maybe it could help you fall asleep, too. You can sleep here alone or if you’d like me to join you, I could do that too. Whatever you want.”
The gesture makes you teary-eyed and you can’t verbally express how much it means to you that he cares enough to make you feel comfortable. Your arms wrap around his bare torso, feeling his hand endearingly cup the back of your head.
“Thank you,” you murmur, “I’d love it if you could stay with me. I always sleep better when I’m with you.”
Johnny smiles, taking your hand in his and leading you into the fort that suddenly feels like a separate world with just the two of you — a world where nothing can hurt you when you two are together.
— The Lie.
Johnny isn’t one to break promises. In fact, he rarely makes them in fear he won’t be able to uphold them and he won’t risk disappointing people — especially you. You’re not one to beg a guy for his time. If a man won’t make time for you, it’s no problem. You’ll find a man who will.
But on this Friday night, somehow everything goes against what either of you normally do.
Johnny broke a promise he was supposed to keep and you’re begging him to stay the night with you. Loneliness isn’t a foreign concept to you, in fact, you’ve come to differentiate between being alone and feeling lonely. Right now, you were both.
Your conversation with Johnny from earlier today replays in your head. Your laptop sits on your lap while papers filled with graphs and numbers are littered on the coffee table in front of you. An old series you’ve rewatched many times before serves as background noise while you try to get ahead of work.
“Don’t hate me. I know I said I’ll spend the weekend, but I completely forgot I made plans that I can’t skip.” Johnny whispers, a comforting hand resting on your arm. “I’ll make sure to call you tonight.”
You try to not let the disappointment show as Johnny speaks. “Would you be able to come over tomorrow instead? I…we haven’t been spending a lot of time together lately and—”
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m staying with my parents this weekend. I must’ve forgotten to tell you.” He looks at you apologetically, before his eyes flick down to his watch. “Next weekend, I promise.”
You didn’t press Johnny further, you just obediently nodded before he gave you a reassuring squeeze of your hand and walked out of your office. You buried yourself in work, like you always do, to numb yet another sting of rejection from Johnny who probably didn’t even realize how much weight his words carried.
Your eyes flick to the digital numbers on the top right of your screen. 10:48 PM. By now, you’d be on the phone with Johnny and he’d be asking for you to recount the events of your day because he simply liked hearing the sound of your voice. You’d eventually hear the sleepiness in his voice, a deep and sexy rasp that would make your body flush with heat whenever he’d call you the pet name he’d settled on that day.
A big part of you wanted to give up on waiting for his call and call it a night, but a small part of you still held onto the hope he’d just show up and spend the weekend with you like he promised. As the minutes pass, the hope slowly dwindles and is replaced with another wave of disappointment.
Just as you’re about to call it a night, your phone rings and Johnny’s contact photo — the night taken at Yuta’s bar — pops up with his name on your screen. Your heart jumps in excitement as you reach for your phone. The excitement in your voice is palpable and you can already feel Johnny smiling on the other end.
”I hope I’m not too late. Think you could let me in? I’m outside.” As if planned, there’s a knock on your front door. “I come bearing gifts as well, if you’re up for it.”
You embarrassingly stumble on your feet as you leap off the couch. Your front door flies open and you’re greeted by a grinning Johnny who lowers his phone and lifts a white plastic bag filled with a takeout box from a restaurant near work that you frequent from time to time.
Johnny doesn’t wait to be invited in as he steps in and carefully places your late night dinner on a nearby table before he swoops you into a bear hug and lifts you off the wooden floor in the process.
“I’m sorry, I can’t stay.” He mumbles into your skin. “I wanted to stop by to bring you something to eat in case you ‘forgot’ to take a break and have dinner.” When he lowers you, he gently swipes away the little hairs sticking to your forehead before a kiss lands on your skin. “I also needed to see you before driving to my parents’ place—” His hands gently cups your cheeks and tilts your head up until your gazes meet. “—and tell you how much I miss you.”
There’s a bittersweet relief that washes over you; sadness knowing Johnny isn’t here to surprise you to stay the night like you wished, but knowing he missed you just as you did with him gives you hope that everything between you two are okay.
He went out of his way to see you, that’s enough. Or at the very least, it should be enough.
And yet, a tiny part of you feels like it isn’t.
“I miss you, too.” You breathe as your gaze flicks between his irises. “Do you have to leave tonight? Can you—”
You thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask one more time, thinking he’d change his mind, but his apologetic eyes give you the answer to the question you stopped yourself from fully asking. It did hurt and the squeeze of your heart proved that. Your eyes shamefully drop, along with your head, when you look away.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Johnny quietly breathes, pulling you into his embrace. The tip of his nose nuzzles against your temple and you fist his shirt as if it’ll keep him here longer. “I promise I’ll text and call and give you updates. This weekend is…really important.”
You nod, feeling your eyes prickle before you bury your face in his chest in hopes he won’t see you cry and think you’re overreacting. “You’ll drive safely and text me when you get there?” You try to hide the tremble in your voice but the way Johnny hugs you tighter lets you know he heard it anyway.
“I will.”
❁❁❁❁❁
The next morning, you wake up to a handful of texts from Johnny and you’re glad to know he kept the promises he made before leaving last night. He started his day early, a photo of his breakfast he sent you is time stamped at exactly 8 in the morning, followed by a series of messages and pin drops of locations you two should visit if you’re both in the area together.
A smile tugs on your lips as Johnny continues to send you photos and updates while you prepare for your weekly debrief with Mina and your manager from your home company. As per usual, you and Mina are the first ones in the video call, waiting for your beloved manager, Tiffany, to join.
“Did you get Tiff’s email about some good news?” Mina asks, sipping on her glass filled with her usual morning coffee. “What do you think it is?”
“A raise, I hope.” You scoff. “Or at the very least, hazard pay for dealing with Choi and his recklessness.”
Mina grins as she uses her fingers to brush back the roots of her hair. “I think that’d only extend to you, ma chérie. Unless you can convince Tiffany, I don’t think that’s the good news she’s gonna share.”
”Hey, I’m very persuasive.” With a playful wink, both you and Mina giggle just before a doorbell goes off to let you know someone has joined the video conference.
“Good morning, ladies.” Tiffany smiles. Her hair is pushed into a sleek bun and based on the attire you can see she’s wearing, she’s on her way to her Pilates class after this meeting. “Thank you so much for meeting with me this Saturday morning. Before we get started, I’d like to check in and see how things are that aren’t work related.”
This is always Mina’s favorite part. You, not so much. She loves catching Tiffany up on the things you hear throughout the week and Tiffany loves it just as much.
Your manager has always taken a liking to both you and Mina, always saying how you two are the breath of fresh air in a burning building. You still aren’t quite sure what that means exactly but you take the compliment anyway.
When the attention turns to you, Tiffany can’t help but comment on how much you’ve physically changed the past couple of weeks — looking more exhausted and worn out despite your effort to look the opposite. “We have a client who gave me a gift card to a spa…” Tiffany trails off, quickly typing away. “Here it is! There’s a location near you. I’m sending you the link and you need to promise me you’ll use it, okay?”
”Always your favorite, huh?” Mina jokingly says, dramatically rolling her eyes at the camera.
“You don’t need it seeing as you just got your nails done. A new set, I see. It’s pretty.” Tiffany laughs, watching the way Mina wiggles her fingers to show off her newly done nails.
”It’s a new place and I’m taking your favorite employee there next weekend!” Mina claps excitedly. “Y/N, clear your schedule because we’re spending some quality time together whether you like it or not.”
You surrender to Mina’s weightless threat, looking down at your phone when another one of Johnny’s updates comes through. When you look back at your screen, both women are waiting for your updates and you give a few tidbits, that didn’t involve sneaking around with Johnny, until they’re satisfied.
“Tiff, if you don’t mind, can you please tell us what the ‘good news’ in your email is referring to?” Mina asks outright, clearly eager to know details.
Tiffany chuckles then nods. “I must preface by saying it’s only good news if you enjoy it there.” Your manager sharply inhales. “We’re extending your contracts for another six months and we’re also looking into possibly having an office there. I don’t want to go into the second part just yet but I did want it to be in your minds.”
You and Mina give each other a slightly disappointed look, hoping for more than telling you two that you’ll be doing work there a little longer.
When your manager catches on, she giggles. “And yes, there is a big bonus when you complete the extension of your contract.”
Mina squeals in excitement and the first thing that comes to mind is telling Johnny the good news. Both you and Mina eventually say your goodbyes to your manager and switch to a FaceTime call to work on weekly debriefing notes together to send Tiffany.
“Oh! By the way, where were you last night?” Mina pouts at the screen as she throws her long thick hair into a messy bun. “I know you’re a workaholic, but I’d at least like to think you’d take a break sometimes.”
“Last night? What was happening last night?” The confusion in your voice makes Mina confused. Adjusting her laptop screen, she maneuvers onto her stomach and a pillow rests under her chest.
“The get together for the interns. The majority of the department came.” Mina shares. Her eyebrows pull tight and she cocks her head to the side. “Didn’t John tell you? He’s the one who organized it.”
Your heart stops and it crashes down into the deepest part of your stomach. You try to swallow the lump that’s made a home in your throat, feeling a sense of betrayal run through your entire body.
“Ev-every intern was there?” You stammer as your chest tightens. Your mind runs a mile a minute, confused and hurt that Johnny not only lied to you, but purposefully left you out.
“Yeah,” Mina nods, thinking back on last night’s events. “They were all there. John didn’t tell you?”
You so badly want to yell out the truth, to break down in front of Mina and have her comfort you in the way she knows how. But before you could, you’re covering for Johnny and you can't stop yourself.
“N-no, he did.” You swallow, suddenly feeling lightheaded and dizzy.
Your hands tremble as you silence your phone from Johnny’s notifications, feeling embarrassed that you’ve been the only one left out like no one wanted you there — like Johnny didn’t want you there.
“I completely forgot. Work had me… tied up…with the Evermore presentation on Monday.”
“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.” Mina looks at you empathetically like everything suddenly made sense. “You were probably cooped up stressing over everything. I should’ve called, but I assumed when I brought it up to John and he said you were busy working…” she sighs, beating herself up for her lack of attention. “…you were working on reports, not the presentation.”
You feel like the air has been knocked out of you with how the room suddenly begins to shift. Your eyes screw shut and a disgusted feeling overwhelms you when you think about Johnny stopping by last night. Your mind begins to play a cruel trick on you, filling your brain with images of Johnny and Chaewon together — sneaking away from the crowd, finding a dark corner of the bar to be alone, and even presenting you with the image of the two of them alone in his bed.
Bile rises up your throat and you beeline it to the toilet, dropping your computer in the process. You can barely hear Mina’s concerned voice over your retching and sobs. The ringing in your ears won’t stop and every time you shut your eyes for a moment of peace, you’re introduced to another painful image your mind has created for you that makes you sob harder.
“I’m on my way!” You manage to hear Mina say.
“No!” You force yourself to yell out, voice raspy and hoarse. “I-I’m okay. I’ll call you back.” Crawling to your laptop, you end the call abruptly before curling yourself into a ball on your bed.
Every excuse you try to give Johnny to explain away his behavior flies out the window because he lied to you. He didn’t want you there and you don’t understand why.
— The Worn Out Transfer & The Downfall.
Your body is completely spent and not in a good way.
You managed to dodge Mina’s line of questions long enough to finish the debriefing notes, blaming your actions and low energy on eating something that disagreed with your stomach and the stress of the presentation. You’re not sure if Mina believed you, but you’ve just added it to the bottom of the long list of things you’re worried about.
You’ve also been dodging Johnny’s texts and calls, unable to stomach the thought of being lied to by him for a reason you’re unsure of. His worried texts were scattered throughout the day and you managed quick messages that told him you were away from your phone or you had fallen asleep. Unlike Mina, Johnny didn’t believe you but you opted for simply screening his calls than to explain what’s wrong before a huge client meeting.
After a restless night, you spent your morning depuffing your face and soothing your swollen eyes until they were back to its normal state, or at the very least, resembled its normal state. You tried your best to do your makeup, but the made up images of Johnny with Chaewon continued to flash through your mind over and over again until you simply just gave up.
After all, Johnny isn’t above office romances and you knew that all too well.
The elevator dings on your floor and the metal doors smoothly slide open. When they do, you see your normal morning crew lingering by the reception desk.
“Morn—oh…” Mina’s face drops into a deep frown. “Hey…are you okay?”
Both Jisung and Chenle look up at you, brows rising in surprise just before it furrows with concern.
“You don’t look so good, Y/N.” Chenle says, quickly regretting his words when Jisung pinches his arm.
“Have a little more tact.” Jisung warns through gritted teeth. “That’s the last thing she wants to hear.”
Brushing off his friend, Chenle looks at you and catches the way you look away in embarrassment. Your usual no make up day doesn’t give you this much attention until now and it’s making you self-conscious. “I mean, she looks sick.” Chenle reiterates, looking at Mina who nods in agreement. “Maybe you should take the day—”
“The Evermore group is coming today.” You quietly say, arms gripping tight around the laptop pressed against your chest. “I need to be here for the presentation.”
“Yeah, but—” Mina is cleanly cut off when Johnny calls your name, all eyes on him now.
When you look up to see him, Johnny freezes as his eyes scan over your entire body. His eyes quickly fill with worry at the sight of you. The way your eyes drop low just before you look away completely to avoid eye contact doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny and neither does the way your cheeks lack your usual blush color or how you’re desperately trying to stop your hands from trembling.
“Hey, can I speak with you?” Johnny gently asks, trying to hide the urgency in his voice as if any other tone would shatter you into pieces.
You brush past him without a word and unlock your office door. The natural morning light spills through the huge windows and you don’t have the energy to flick on the overhead lights after dropping your belongings onto your desk.
“Are you okay?” Johnny asks, carefully tugging on your arm to look at him. He cups your cheeks and tilts your head up to meet your exhausted eyes. “You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts.”
“I’m fine, John.” You softly reply, breaking eye contact with him as you push his hands away from you. “I had a lot to do. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“It’s—” he pauses, watching the way you move around your office with unease. There’s a squeeze to his chest that tells him there’s more to what you’re telling him, but lately there always seems to be more than what you’ve been saying these past few months.
“John, I need to get some work done. What did you want to talk about?”
There’s an iciness to your tone that makes Johnny want to crawl out of his skin. A tone that he’s never heard from you before. His lips part to say something but nothing comes out, feeling like a fool for standing there completely dumbfounded at your words.
“I—” Johnny stammers, “—just wanted to see that you were okay. That we’re okay.”
Every fiber in your body wants to scream out, to reach for Johnny for comfort. But you can’t. Not here at the office and especially not on the day you need to win over one of the most difficult and demanding groups of clients you’ve ever encountered. You could feel the bagel you nibbled on this morning coming back up with the way your stomach churned at his words.
You nod, avoiding Johnny’s eyes. “I’ll see you at the meeting.” Taking a seat, you refocus on your computer, hyper aware of every move you make as you type in your computer’s password. Your lungs constrict as you hold your breath, feeling Johnny’s hesitation to leave.
But you don’t dare to look at him because if you do you’ll break down in tears and you won’t be able to stop.
❁❁❁❁❁
“Good luck, Miss Y/N.” Jisung quickly calls out as you pass the reception desk and head towards the conference room.
You give the young man the first genuine smile you could muster before mouthing a ‘thank you’ towards him. In return, he gives you two thumbs up with a smile that helps you forget, even for a short moment, that you’re walking into a shark tank.
As you linger outside the conference room, you take a second to brace yourself to see Johnny — who you expect to be in the front of the room setting up the presentation, and Chaewon — sitting in the back of the room either taking notes or completing a task the program she’s in, requires.
As expected, Johnny looks at you when you enter, mumbling a quiet greeting but there’s no Chaewon in sight. However, that guilt of quick relief is pushed aside when she walks in, bright eyed and eager to see what takes place in the conference room that isn’t meetings with Mina and Doyoung.
Chaewon greets you cheerfully, offering to help with passing out folders for the clients. Handing her the stack of folders, you thank her, watching her effortlessly circle the conference table with grace.
There’s a sudden feeling of unwantedness that hits you when you realize you feel out of place in a room that you’re usually the most confident in. You pull out the notes you meticulously organized and printed, placing a copy next to Johnny’s laptop and another next to Chaewon’s belongings. A dizzy spell hits you and you’re quickly regretting not eating something substantial before this.
Chaewon feels the tension in the room, watching the way you and Johnny move around each other like neither of you want to step on each other’s toes. When she places the last folder, she paints on a pretty smile and looks at you.
“How was your weekend, Y/N?” Chaewon asks, cutting through the tense silence between you and Johnny.
“Fine.” You hesitantly respond, forcing a smile to your lips. “How was yours?” You grab the back of a chair to keep you upright as you wait for the lightheadedness to pass.
“Great!” Chaewon beams. She rambles as she recounts what she and her friends did — the club, a friendship picnic, and visiting the museum. “Oh, by the way, we missed you Friday night! John said you couldn’t make it to the party because you were working late.”
This time when you look at Johnny, he sharply inhales and you see the muscle in his jaw tick.
And for the first time, he doesn’t look back at you.
Your eyes begin to sting as your tears threaten to brim your waterline. “Y-yeah,” you sharply inhale, trying to patch up your squeezing heart to get you through this. “I usually, um, work late on Fridays. I’m so sorry I missed it.”
“It’s okay!” Chaewon smiles, taking a seat in the back of the room. “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunities. It was fun to get to know everyone outside of work and how different they are when alcohol is involved.”
Your sights flick to Johnny who tugs on his collar like the tie he has on is suffocating him. He doesn’t bother to look at you, clearly unable to focus on anything else but the notes in front of him. You fight the way your brain tries to remind you how flirty Johnny gets when he’s drunk and that Chaewon knows about it first hand, too.
“Hey, are you okay?” Chaewon softly asks, watching the way you shut your eyes and begin rubbing your temple.
Johnny’s eyes flick up into your direction, making sure you’re okay knowing how worried he’s been since seeing you this morning.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod. “I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
A knock on the door catches the attention of the three of you and the group you’re expecting begin to fill up the chairs surrounding the large conference table.
Johnny’s quick reaction has him greeting the group, inviting them in and introducing them to both you and Chaewon. He doesn’t miss a beat, starting off the presentation exactly how you two rehearsed. When you begin presenting your portion of the presentation, explaining the company’s growth and the strategy set in place, you think you’ll be able to get through this.
But that moment is short lived when you begin to feel lightheaded again, this time worse than before.
You lose track of your thought process and Johnny looks at you concerned, smoothly swooping in to pick up where you left off. Johnny’s words begin to blur together and as you try to refocus, the entire room spins and the chattering begins to overlap.
Your vision blurs, but when you close your eyes for a second of relief, the darkness greets you with a cruel image of Johnny sneaking away with Chaewon – her fingers raking through his hair and his hands on her hips, shoving their tongues down each other’s throat.
Johnny gently calls out your name, ripping you away from the image in your head. He looks at you with deep worry and his eyes drop down to your trembling hands.
When you look at the group of people staring back at you, you already see one of them shake their head disapprovingly. You try to say something — the lines you rehearsed, the part of the script you’ve perfectly curated for this moment, an apology, anything. But instead, your face turns hot and clammy and beads of sweat slowly start to form on the back of your neck.
Chaewon stands, face full of worry and you suddenly feel Johnny’s hand press against your lower back to keep you from stumbling backwards, but his touch feels foreign and unwanted.
Your stomach twists and the contents you tried to hold down are starting to come back up.
Fast.
“I-I’m sor—” That’s all anyone in the room can make out before your hand flies to your mouth and you rush out of the room.
The bathroom door flies open, hitting the tiled wall with a slam before you drop to your knees in front of the toilet. Hot tears fall from your eyes and your throat burns, clutching your abdomen and silently praying to make it all stop.
“Oh my god!” You hear Mina’s voice behind you, followed by a separate gasp. “Hey,” Mina coos, palm circling against your back. “You’re okay.”
“I’ll get some water for her.” The voice, belonging to Chaewon, says frantically before scurrying off to the break room.
You lean against the wall of the bathroom stall, this time tears helplessly streaming down your face. “I fucked up.” You sobbed through gasps, hand pressed to your chest as Mina stands to grab a paper towel from its dispenser, wetting it a little before helping you wipe the tears streaking your cheeks and handing it to you to wipe around your mouth.
Chaewon returns with an unopened water bottle, squatting next to Mina. “You looked like you were about to pass out,” Chaewon shares, gently moving a piece of hair from your forehead.
“I-I gotta get back in there—” you frantically say, standing up too quickly and needing to use the wall behind you to steady yourself. “We can’t lose—”
Chaewon presses her hands into your arms, forcing your focus onto her. “John is covering for you. He said you weren’t feeling well and you thought you could get through it. They’re gonna discuss rescheduling after Mina and Doyoung’s presentation.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Mina rubs a palm on your back, sorrow dripping from her aura knowing how hard on yourself you’ll be. “It’ll be okay.”
You want so badly to tell her it is your fault. It’s your fault for hooking up with Johnny. Your fault for continuing it. It's your fault for getting jealous and you allowed it to get to you, nearly losing a deal with important clients.
It is your fault for letting your professional and personal life blur.
“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.” Mina gently recommends as she watches you take little sips of the water bottle. “You can’t be on top of your game if you’re not taking care of yourself.”
You look at Chaewon, then at Mina before you ultimately surrender. “Yeah,” you nod, “I do just need some rest. A day or two will help.”
“I can walk you to your car, just in case.” Chaewon offers and the sincerity in her voice makes you feel all kinds of guilt for not being as open to her as everyone else has been.
“And I’ll talk to John.” Mina reassures. “He’s probably really worried. He nearly rushed into the bathroom before he stopped himself realizing it was the woman’s restroom. I had to remind him to tend to the group.”
Your mind is a mess and it’s Chaewon who brings you back. “Grab your things. I’ll meet you by the elevator.”
When you meet with Chaewon, the elevator door opens right on time. Stepping in, you clutch your stomach as you watch the young girl’s manicured nail press the lobby button. Just you look up, you catch a glimpse of Johnny and the worried look on his face just as the elevator doors close.
— The Fallout.
Your phone has been going off with messages from Mina checking in and assuring you that the Evermore group is looking forward to meeting you and Johnny again when you’re feeling better.
You catch the first couple of words in Johnny’s text: I’m outside. Johnny’s name was the last person you expected to see, or maybe it was the one person you wanted to see. Trudging your way towards the front door, you crack it open and spot an apologetic Johnny holding a small brown paper bag in one hand and a white plastic bag in the other.
“What’re you doing here?” You quietly ask, feeling a wave of exhaustion so bad you feel it in your bones.
Crying all afternoon wasn’t what you intended to do, but the emotions you’ve bottled up spilled out all at once the second you walked through your front door.
“I wanted to bring you something…” he holds up what he has in his hands. “…with an explanation and apology, too.”
For a split second, you’re tempted to tell him to leave and slam the door shut, but you can’t find it in your heart to do it when Johnny patiently waits, holding his breath in anticipation, for your decision. As you pull the door wider, you step aside to let Johnny in.
Setting down the white plastic bag that contains some sort of take-out soup, Johnny hands you the brown paper bag. His hands slide into his pockets and his shoulders shrugging until it reaches his ears. “Mina said you weren’t feeling well, so I stopped by to get you something warm…and, uh—”
Opening up the bag, your brows shoot up.
“A pregnancy test?” You quirk a brow. “I’m not…” shaking your head, you shove the test back into the bag.
“Mina said you were throwing up a-and you looked sick.” Johnny explains as he nervously swallows. “With our track record, I just thought it’d give you a peace of mind. I know it’d give me a little relief if you aren’t—”
“I’m not pregnant. I’m on birth control, remember?”
“I know, but sometimes it fails and—”
You lift your palm to stop him in the middle of his sentence. “You said you also came with an explanation and apology.”
The color drains from Johnny’s face, a shiver running down his spine as your words slice through him. For someone so tall, he sure does feel small at this very moment.
“What Chaewon said about Friday night,” Johnny gulps. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Your heart cracks, hearing him finally admit it. You look down at your bare feet, feeling your entire world shift on its axis. You hoped for a better excuse, one you didn’t think of, but the truth is: there isn’t anything he could say that would make you feel better about what he did.
And you wondered what other things your mind was right about.
“I see the way you tense around Chaewon, how distant you’ve become since she started her internship and I connected the dots. I figured you wouldn’t wanna go.” Johnny sighs, regret dripping from his words. “I should’ve told you anyway. I’m sorry. I thought I was sparing your feelings by not mentioning it. Plus, it wasn’t anything special, just a get together to get the interns to mingle with everyone.”
You stay silent, arms crossing over your stomach to hug yourself in a pathetic attempt to somehow protect yourself from any other kind of pain that might arise.
“I realize it was a dumb decision, but I did it anyway. I’m so sorry, baby. I promise it won’t happen ever again.”
Johnny steps toward you, desperately wanting to pull you into a hug to make sure everything is okay — to tell himself that he didn’t completely fuck up with the woman he’d do anything for. But his world comes crashing when you take a step back, refusing to look up at him.
“Did something happen between you two?”
Your words are barely a whisper, but it strikes Johnny in his gut.
“Is that why you came afterwards? Did you even go to see your parents or was that a lie too?”
His lungs constrict, forgetting how to breathe. Every question felt like an accusation and every accusation felt like another stab to his chest. With the way you look up at him, tears brimming with hot salty tears when he doesn’t answer, he realizes his silence sounds like admission.
“N-no.” He shakes his head profusely. “No, nothing happened. Nothing happened with anyone. I swear! I came to see you afterwards because I did miss you and I missed you all weekend. How could you—” he stops himself, suddenly realizing he’s shifting the blame. “W-why would you think that?”
You go quiet again, feeling a pang of heartache at his question. You don’t know how to tell him how you’ve been feeling — he’s a pro at communication and you’re not. So you don’t. Instead, you do what you do best: burying it away and throwing away the key.
“I could never do that to you,” Johnny’s voice slightly trembles. “Please, you have to believe me. I-I know how this looks like, but I swear to god, nothing has ever happened and nothing ever will.”
“Y-you’re right.” You swallow, eyes feeling relief when the hot tears finally streak down your cheeks. “Nothing will happen. Not anymore. I-I can’t do this anymore, Johnny.”
You push through the lump in your throat.
“It made me sick to my stomach to think about you and Chaewon today, so much so I fucked up today’s client meeting because I felt like I was losing y—”
Your voice cracks and your hand reaches for your throat, feeling like your own words are suffocating you as you try to push them out.
Johnny sees the way you struggle, instinctively reaching for your hand only to have you pull away, again. The whites of his eyes have reddened over the past couple of minutes, clearly holding back the tears he desperately wants to let go of.
“You were never losing me,” Johnny reassures, voice quieter than expected. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel that way.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore,” you gulp, using the sleeve of your sweater to wipe your cheeks. “We can’t do this. I can’t separate my emotions without it affecting my work. I-I don’t know how to. I’m sorry.”
You’ve rendered Johnny speechless before, but not like this.
Not in the way where it feels like you ripped out his heart and squeezed it until it shattered into a million pieces in your hand. It all happened too quickly for him to process the fact you’re ending everything.
His body must have gone into autopilot from the shock that one mistake made him lose you. The next thing he knows is he’s standing outside your apartment and handing you the spare key you wanted back, then he’s staring at your apartment number hanging on your front door.
He stands there for a long moment in silence, using your front door to brace himself. With his back pressed into the wooden material, he slides down onto your welcome mat needing to take a minute to process everything that just happened. His head gently rests against your door and when he looks down, he catches your shadow under the crack of the door.
Pulling your knees to your chest, you try to quiet your sobs, but it’s no use. Johnny hears you, desperately wishing he could hold you and undo everything that he did to hurt you. It’s quiet, but you hear Johnny’s voice on the other side of the door.
“I’m really sorry.” He starts, eyes already stinging as he bites back his tears. “If you need space, I’ll give you space. If you need a friend, I’ll be here. If you need to forget about me…” he sharply inhales, not bothering to finish his sentence. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you. Even if that means nothing to you, it means everything to me.”
A beat of silence passes and you wonder if he left, but you hear his voice again — though the thick piece of wood between the two of you drowns out the way his words quiver as he finally lets his tears fall.
“You mean everything to me. Please don’t forget that.”
You sob harder into the bend of your arm, feeling the door move slightly to tell you Johnny’s no longer on the other side of the door.
Another painful reminder that you’re alone.
Again.
❁ disclaimer | do not copy, repost, translate, or modify any of my writing. do not share my work on other platforms without my explicit permission.
Genre(s): Smut, domestic AU, established relationship, fluff, comfort
Word Count: 1.5k
Content Warnings/Tags: Explicit sexual content (18+ only/mdni), strong language, frequent intimacy, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex (be safe irl!), rimmimg, lap dance, mentions of past employment as a stripper, age gap (Y/N is in her early 20s and Jeno is in his mid to late 20s), glasses!Jeno, use of petnames (baby, angel, kitten etc.), occasional manhandling, breeding kink, daddy kink, reader innocence kink, size kink/difference
Summary: Jeno thinks you're the cutest person alive, and honestly? He's probably right. Between lazy mornings, university assignments, affectionate nicknames, and far too many distractions whenever you're supposed to be studying, the two of you have perfected the art of being hopelessly in love.
Author's Note: This short fic is powered by mutual obsession. Jeno thinks you hung the moon, and you happen to think the exact same about him. You're both ridiculously in love with each other. Please read responsibly and enjoy!🖤
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The Sunday tradition in your shared apartment is the heartbeat of your relationship, but the magic starts long before the lingerie comes out. For you, every moment spent with Jeno is a dream. You love the way he looks at you—not just as a beautiful woman, but as his everything.
The morning had started softly. You woke up before him, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, illuminating his sleeping face. Without glasses, Jeno looks almost vulnerable, his sharp jawline softened by sleep. You couldn't resist. You slid down the bed, your small frame disappearing beneath the duvet, and carefully freed his massive, thick cock from his boxers. It was already semi-hard, pulsing with a slow rhythm. You spent an hour just worshipping him, your tongue swirling around the broad head, sucking the pre-cum from the slit with a devotion that always makes him moan in his sleep. By the time he fully woke up, he was already leaking into your mouth, his hand finding your hair and gently tugging as you took him as deep as your throat would allow.
"Good morning, baby," he had rasped, his voice thick with sleep and lust, his eyes fluttering open to see his little angel taking care of him.
The afternoon was spent in a more domestic haze. You were struggling with a particularly dense module for your early childhood education degree, your brow furrowed as you stared at your laptop. Jeno, ever the supportive partner, sat behind you, his broad chest acting as a backrest for your tiny body. He guided you through the assignment, his voice calm and intellectual, the software engineer in him breaking down the complex parts into something you could understand. But as he spoke, his hands weren't staying still. He began to massage your shoulders, his strong fingers kneading the tension away, before his hands wandered down to squeeze your breasts through your thin t-shirt.
"Jeno, I'm trying to study," you giggled, though you were already arching your back into his touch.
"I'm helping you, kitten," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "But you're distracting me just by existing."
The study session, as usual, devolved into a frantic make-out session on the desk, books sliding to the floor as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He didn't ask if you wanted to stop; he just took you right there, your small frame dwarfed by his power, filling you up until you were sobbing his name.
Now, it is Sunday evening, and the atmosphere has shifted from sweet to electric. You’ve transitioned into your role as his private dancer. You’re wearing a set of lingerie that is barely there—a sheer, crimson lace number with strings that tie precariously at your hips and a top that barely covers the peaks of your breasts. You know exactly how much he loves it. You know how the sight of your small, curvy frame draped in something so slutty makes his pupils blow wide, stripping away the "gentleman" persona and leaving only the possessive man who wants to claim every inch of you.
"Jeno, look! Do you like it?" you chirp, spinning around for him. You love the way his name feels on your tongue, and you love the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters.
He doesn't answer immediately. He just stands there, his glasses gone, his dark eyes scanning your body with a hunger that makes your toes curl. He’s towering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the light, making you feel even tinier than usual. You barely reach his chest, a fact that Jeno absolutely adores.
"Come here, baby," he rasps, his voice low and commanding.
You glide toward him, your hips swaying, and begin your private show. You move with the grace you learned at the club, but this is different. This isn't for a crowd; it's for him. You grind your plush hips against his thighs, your small hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You sink to your knees, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes while your tongue darts out to lick your lips.
You start with his cock, the centerpiece of your worship. Even through his trousers, the sheer size of him is intimidating and intoxicating. You fumble with his belt, eager to free him, and when his massive, thick shaft springs free, you let out a soft moan. It’s monstrous, veiny, and pulsing—a heavy slab of meat that you are absolutely addicted to.
"So hungry for it already, kitten?" Jeno chuckles, his hand coming down to ruffle your hair, his fingers gripping the strands just firmly enough to tilt your head back. "You're such a needy little slut for this dick, aren't you?"
"Yes, Jeno... please, I want it," you whimper, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around the broad, leaking head of his cock. You spend a long time on the tip, sucking the pre-cum from the slit, treating him like a god. You take him deep, your throat stretching to accommodate his girth, your eyes fluttering shut as you focus on the taste and feel of him.
Jeno groans, his hips twitching. He loves how you worship him, how you treat his cock like the most precious thing in existence. But as the dance continues and you move back up to give him a lap dance, his patience snaps.
As you straddle his lap, grinding your tight pussy against his thigh, Jeno’s hands suddenly clamp onto your waist. With a sudden, violent tug, he rips the crimson lace of your lingerie. The sound of the fabric shredding fills the room, leaving you completely naked and exposed.
"Enough dancing," he growls.
He manhandles you effortlessly, lifting you up and slamming you back onto the bed. He doesn't ask; he just takes. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip like iron, while he uses the other to spread your soft, creamy thighs wide. He spends a few moments just staring at you—your tiny waist, your wide hips, and the pink, dripping slit of your pussy that is already pulsing for him.
"You're so fucking small, Angel," he whispers, his voice a mix of tenderness and raw lust. "I can't believe how tight you are. It's like you were made specifically to be stretched out by me."
He doesn't go straight for the kill. He wants to taste you first. Jeno flips you over, shoving your face into the pillows and hiking your round, firm ass high into the air. He lets out a low hiss of approval at the sight of your backside. He leans in, his broad tongue licking your tight little ring, swirling around the entrance of your ass with a precision that makes you scream into the mattress.
He sucks your asshole into his mouth, the vacuum pressure sending electric shocks through your spine. You've come just from his suction before, and today is no different. Your walls clench and release as he tongue-fucks your ass, his fingers sliding into your pussy simultaneously. He pushes one, two, three, and then four fingers deep into your tight channel, stretching you wide, mimicking the girth of his cock.
"You're taking it so well, baby," he praises, his voice guttural. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."
Finally, he can't take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out with a wet pop and lines himself up. He doesn't use a condom; he never does. He wants to feel every ridge of your internal walls. He thrusts forward in one singular, devastating motion.
A loud, piercing cry escapes you as he buries himself to the hilt. You are so tiny, and he is so massive, that it feels like he's splitting you in half. The sensation is overwhelming—a mixture of intense pressure and an agonizingly beautiful heat. He fills every single millimeter of you, his thick shaft stretching your pussy to its absolute limit.
"God, you're so tight," Jeno pants, his face contorted with pleasure. He begins to pound into you with a rhythmic, punishing violence. Every thrust is a blunt force, his heavy balls slapping against your plush ass with a loud, fleshy sound. He loves the jiggle of your cheeks with every hit, the way your body bounces under his weight.
He reaches around to grab your breasts, squeezing them firmly, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples as he hammers into your womb.
"I'm going to breed you, baby," he roars, his voice primal. "I'm going to fill you with so much cum that you'll be leaking me for days. I want four of them, Angel. Two boys, two girls. I want a whole house full of little versions of you, all belonging to me."
The thought of being bred by him, of carrying his children, sends you over the edge. You scream his name over and over, "Jeno! Jeno! Please, Jeno!"
He hits your cervix with a final, bone-deep slam, his entire body locking up. He erupts inside you, hot, thick jets of seed flooding your womb. He doesn't pull out; he stays buried deep, pulsing and throbbing, ensuring that every drop of his breeding is deposited deep within your conquered body.
As he slowly collapses on top of you, his weight crushing you into the mattress, he kisses your neck softly, his rough demeanor shifting back to the man who adores you.
"I've got you, baby," he whispers, ruffling your hair. "Daddy's got you."
Pairing -> Ice Hockey Player!Lee Jeno x Justrecoveredfromaconcussion!Female Reader.
Genre -> Fake dating. Fluff. Smut.
Word Count -> 33k
Synopsis -> Lee Jeno was a simple person: show up to class, show up to practice, and commit to them. Simple and easy; which was why Jeno never involved himself in relationships. Situationship, late-night hookups? Sure. Relationships were too complicated for his taste so he became infamous for rejecting people with their romantic pursuits. With that aside, one stupid thing he allowed himself to indulge in was bets. Stupid bets. Some were low stakes, some were high stakes, nevertheless bets. So when his friend, Chenle, challenged him to be in a relationship with one person for three months, a low risk bet with a high reward where if Jeno succeeds, Chenle owes him money, but if Jeno fails, Chenle gets Jeno's precious motorbike (Chenle doesn't even have a license!), Jeno simply couldn't refuse such an easy challenge. Whether by sheer luck or not, you were the victim of this subject - the girl he accidentally pucked who ended up in the hospital with a concussion. So, he asked you out, however, the guilt ate him like a parasite and he confessed the truth to you on your date. You, on the other hand, weren't mad that your secret crush of many years, Jeno, asked you out because of a dumb bet and not because he actually liked you, instead, you proposed to fake date each other and split the prize money between the two of you. Jeno agreed to it and had only one condition from him - don't fall in love with him.
Disclaimer -> don’t read this if you hate cliches 😔! one bed trope, motorcyclist Jeno hehe, mentions of murder, stalking, and suicide (not graphic or explicit at all), riding, mirror sex, slight degradation, vibrator, blowjob.
Author’s Note:- A prequel to this and this. All these three one shots can be read as a stand-alone so you don’t have to read the others if you don’t want to. If you want to read all three, you can read the linked stories above first, since it was released first, and then read the prequel. Or, you can start off with this one aka in chronological order. FYI, Chenle appears in both How to Get Your Boyfriend to Breakup with You 101 and this one but he is not the same Zhong Chenle - they are doppelgängers! Same name, same face but two individuals who lead separate lives! Enjoy hehe <3 ao3 ver if u prefer to read it over there instead!
You know how they say your mind replays your whole life in seven seconds right before you die?
Well, yours replayed the most recent event that led up to that moment.
Lee Jeno flew through the ice rink from one end to the other as he dodged the opponent team with only one goal in mind - the perfect last puck of the game to break the tie. The crowd, including you, watched in anticipation with every glide of the crisp blade that skirted around the icy arena. Jeno's movements were too captivating to take your eyes off him, not just because he was your crush, but because he was a star player for a reason with those swift and skilled movements of his! Your bladder was reaching its limits but the game was almost over so you stayed to watch to the very end. This was it! He was near the goal and there was a small opening in the top right corner of the goalpost if he could accurately hit his shot. All the spectators held their breath as the match counted down to the last few seconds of the game, Jeno paused for a millisecond before he whacked the puck with his stick ; the puck flew off the icy ground, into the air, into the direction of the goal net, but it bounced off the metal post, over the barrier, and smacked you right on the side of your forehead. Knocked out.
Your only last thoughts before your vision faded into total darkness were, please don't let me pee my pants.
"Wanna go to the game?" Your friend asked. The last time you went to an ice hockey game, you ended up in the hospital with a raging concussion to the point you had to take the rest of the semester off to recover. So safe to say, you weren't keen on going to another ice hockey game in your life. Ever. Even if your crush was the star player of the team. Now you were back on campus, fully healed and ready to take on the new semester and whatever may come your way.
"Not in this lifetime ever again." You chatted while everyone in the classroom waited for the lecturer to begin the class.
"I totally forgot about that!" Your friend gasped in guilt. "Sorry."
"It's fine," you chuckled at her. "Cute charm." You loved how the small charms decorated her hand and dangled off her wrist.
"Thanks! I've just added this little car charm." She showed you her new charm. "Went on a road trip over the long weekend."
"Fun! Where'd you go?" You asked her.
"We went to-"
"So!" Professor Choi Sooyoung randomly bursted out in a loud voice and clapped her hands together and the chatter of the classroom died down. "Now that we're done with group projects, we will be focusing on your individual project."
"No more working together," you whispered and frowned at your friend beside you while the Professor talked.
"I'm sad." She pouted back.
"You're more than welcome to take the film in any direction you like as long as it focuses on dark themes." Professor Choi Sooyoung sat on the table. "Any questions?"
Someone raised their hand. "Is sexual intimacy on the table?"
"Everything is on the table: addiction, sex. As long as there's a message behind it. We're all adults here. I'll release a more detailed guideline that you can refer to later." She replied. "But don't go around shooting porn." Some people in the classroom groaned in disappointment.
"I will also be submitting these to a local competition, and whoever gets first place, wins a sponsored trip." This information caused chatter and murmer among your classmates including you. "So I expect quality work from each and everyone of you." She commented and then resumed her lecture till class was over.
You and your friend walked out the lecture hall and headed to the library cafe for a quick pick-me-up before you went your separate ways. "Gosh, I thought this would be an easy elective but she's submitting this to a competition!" You groaned and your friend reciprocated.
"I heard she didn't even do this last semester. Some just filmed on their phone and submitted it as is. So many people got an easy A." Your friend huffed and complained.
"What the heck! Shoot, I don't even have a camera!" The class had only worked and submitted on group projects so far this semester, you took this elective solely because it sounded fun and heard that the professor was chill most of the time, so you had different roles like a script writer or the props person instead of the camera man or the director. Your heart thumped raced in your head at the fact you had to carry all these heavy roles just for an elective! You didn't even own a camera! "Do you have any I can borrow or rent?" You asked as you both entered the library cafe.
"Sorry, I'm also borrowing mine from a friend's friend." She frowned in response. Your lips pursed into a thin and nodded understandingly. "Wait! Let me ask my friend!" She screamed almost too loudly where she received death stares from other people around her. Even though there was a cafe in the library, the quiet rule was still heavily enforced throughout the premise. "Maybe I can ask my friend's friend if he has extra cameras laying around? He's super into photography."
"Really? It's fine if he doesn't have any, I'll find a different way." You reassured her.
"Let me just give it a try." She texted her friend's friend and he promptly texted her back."Yes!" She exclaimed. "He has a couple extra old ones that he doesn't mind lending to you but they're still in good condition. Is that alright for you?"
"More than perfect! I'm just trying to pass this class." You smiled brightly and your heart let out a breath of relief. Now you can focus on other things and order your favourite drink.
"Ok, his name is Bae Jinyoung and I'll text you his contact info." She swiftly sent you his contact information via text.
"Thanks! You're the best!" You hugged her while you both stood in line at the cafe, waiting to order your drinks. The cafe was always occupied with people but today was a bit of a quiet day, granted most of them were still in class while yours ended early.
The second you stepped into the cafe, you glanced at Jeno who sat across from Chenle as they both played games on their phones. Well, you didn't exactly see Chenle but you saw the back of his head which was unmistakably his. There was a secret you kept to yourself and never whispered it to a single soul - not because you were ashamed of it but because you felt silly, almost cliche-like, for liking a popular guy who had never noticed you and it wasn't like you made an effort to get acquainted with him like most people do with their crushes, especially since you knew he infamously doesn't do relationships. You've heard the stories from acquitances and classmates, Jeno's a straightforward type of person who makes it clear from the beginning that it would only be physical, but alas, there was something about his charm, his looks, the way he fucked that made girls fall deeper and deeper with him. Some of them were bold and tried to shoot their shot but Jeno would reject them faster than you could say airball. It would devastate you to have all of him, yet, he was never yours to begin with.
"Staring at Lee Jeno?" Your friend teased and nudged your shoulders while you waited behind someone in line.
Your eyes widened at the fact you got caught staring at Jeno. "N-no," your denial made heat crawled up to your back. "You don't see people with red hair everyday." You pointed to Jeno's hairdo.
"Girl, it's fine. He's hot and cute." Your friend also glanced at Jeno was remained oblivious at the two souls staring at him.
"Someone has a crush," you playfully diverted the attention to her instead.
She snorted at your statement. "He's good looking but not my type."
"Not your type?"
"You know, popular, it's like dating a celebrity. I would get so jealous if other girls constantly looked at my man," she explained.
"Yeah, I get it."
"Is that why you've never talked to him?"
Why the hell was she perspective for? "No!" You jumped in almost too defensively. "Yeah he's cute but he gives me the ick." There was a sliver of truth in your statement. "I saw him sneeze into his hands instead of his elbow or a tissue." When it happened, you were both in the cafe library but you were seated in a corner waiting for your friend to arrive. While Jeno stood in line to order his drink. From a distance, you took note how he finally shed his leather jacket and hoodie when the weather was warmer and traded it for a black T-shirt. You were secretly admiring the way his biceps flexed against the short sleeves but that moment was interrupted when his whole body jolted into a sneeze and he covered it with his hands. Ew. Then proceeded to pay and take his drink with the same unwashed hands. Men. Safe to say you called the time of death on your crush.
"Ew," your friend's face morphed into the exact expression of disgust you made when it happened and you couldn't helped but laugh.
"What would you like to order?" The cashier asked as you both now stood in front of her.
"I'll have a Frappuccino mocha with extra chocolate drizzle." Your friend gave her order to the cashier.
"And I'll have an iced peach lemon tea, please." You promptly added afterwards.
"What size for both?"
"Regular, huh." You informed the cashier.
"Alright, thanks. Your order will be ready once this beeps." She handed a small black device once you both paid for your drinks.
Then, you both situated yourself in the corner booth since it was empty while you waited for your order to be called on. "What are you planning to do for your assignment by the way?" You asked her.
"I'll figure it out later but something along the lines of toxic love, domestic abuse or even touch upon Stockholm syndrome since it sounds interesting to me."
"Ooh! Definitely go for it, I would watch that in a heartbeat." You replied enthusiastically.
"How about you?"
"Ooh," you hissed and gave her question a thought. "I'm leaning towards a thriller type of thing, murder just sounds appealing."
She snorted and quietly laughed at your response. "That sounds so weird without context."
Lee Jeno was a simple man: show up to class, show up to practice, and commit to it. Clean, simple, and predictable. Relationships on the other hand, there were messy, too many variables and miscellaneous feelings involved with no clear winner.
Hence why Jeno kept it straightforward and simple with anyone involved; he makes it clear that it's purely a mutual physical relationship with no labels. If they didn't like it? More than welcome to leave. However, there were still people who chose to read beyond Jeno's words and attemptted to pursue a relationship. He could only shake his head at their silly pursuits and sigh in disappointment before he broke it off. Of course, on more than one occasion, he was met with girls who felt upset and betrayed by him so they hit him, cursed him, smeared his name, and he pretty much had braced himself against those reactions - that was fine. The worst of all was when they would act out in public and dragged him under the scrutinizing eyes of strangers. For once, it would be nice to have someone who understood him and cleanly break it off with no feelings involved.
There was something else he loved as much as the concept of simplicity and predictability - the rush of adrenaline. There was something addicting and inticing to the thrill of not knowing the bounds of your limits. He too found it ironic that two matters on the opposite side of the spectrum was something he liked. The rush of speeding through the highway on his bike, the intense countdown from the game to make his bet, and stupid bets that had no real value to it
"I bet you can't do it." Chenle sucked in the last bits of his coconut matcha and wriggled his eyebrows at Jeno with that cheesy grin of his.
Jeno rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his faded red hair; that was another stupid bet with Chenle, which he unfortunately lost hence the red hair, it was a bet to see who could break more eggs with their head, and lo and behold, it was Zhong Chenle. 42 vs 32. "I can, just don't want to." He rolled his eyes at Chenle.
"Not even if you tried." Chenle snorted which provoked the competitive spirit that was slowly burning up in Jeno as Chenle continued to mocked him.
"You're trying to lure me in." He leaned closer to Chenle. "I'm not doing it." Jeno was determined to not be pulled into Chenle's silly antics again.
"I dare you." His signature grin plastered on his face.
"No." Jeno replied in a bored tone.
"Please!" Chenle whined too loudly which received death glares from other people around them.
Jeno grew conscious of the unwanted stares and toned down his voice even more even though he wasn't the one speakinf loudly. "No."
"I'll give you a thousand!" He begged with his hands clasped together.
"A thousand?" Jeno gawked at the preposition Chenle was throwing for a silly little bet. "Really?" He knew that Chenle had more than enough money to burn for silly things like this but, even then, it was going too far. The stakes did not match the reward.
There was smug smirked stitched on Chenle's face. "Need to burn all my money somehow." He shrugged cockily.
God was he sometimes annoying. "Go on." Nevertheless, he was intrigued with Chenle's proposition.
"If you lose, you give me your motorbike."
"Fuck no way, bets off. You don't even have a license." Jeno shook his head. "I saved up money to buy that bike."
"Nah, it would be the perfect practice bike." He leaned back against the chair and crossed his legs. "Gotta scratch something up before I buy a real bike."
"My motorbike is a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R that can speed at 295 kilometres per hour, " Jeno punched Chenle, "while you scream riding at the back."
"It's because I want to feel Jeno Oppa's hard abs." He cackled and teased by simultaneously touching his biceps and and up but Jeno shooed him away.
"No bet." Jeno shook his head, he knew it was too good to be true.
"So, what I'm hearing is that you're a," Chenle paused for a second. "Chicken," he whispered in Jeno's ear and there was a devilish grin on his face.
"It's not wor-" Jeno took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This was just one of Chenle's many tactics to make other people do stupid things.
"Bok, bok, bok." Chenle started clucking with his hands near his armpit.
"I'm not going to do it." Jeno stood firm.
"Bok, bok, bok." His neck pecked out of his body with his eyes wide opened with his arms folded to the side. "Bok, bok, bok."
"Fine." Jeno grumbled and pursed his lips into a thin line. "So, how's this going to work?"
Chenle clapped his hands excitedly, which received another round of angry stares from people nearby. "You have to date the first girl who orders an iced peach lemon tea for three months. No dating apps, no cheating, a full-on committed relationship." He explained the Jeno premise of the bet.
"Fine, deal."
"Yes!" They both shook on it, especially Chenle with his vigorous handshake. Jeno was a hostage since Chenle was insistent that they would find the perfect candidate at the cafe library. Although Jeno was held against his will, he didn't mind spending the rest of the afternoon there since all his classes for the day was in the morning. Chenle, however, skipped his afternoon class in favour of waiting for the person to order the drink, he would occasionally checked for the time on his watch. They hadn't noticed how quickly time passed because they were engrossed with a game on their respective phones.
"You're so shit at this game." Jeno commented.
"Shut the fuck up. One more round." Chenle's competitive streak was burning with passion.
"Let's just pick whoever comes next, easy." Jeno piped up after awhile.
"No, no, we have to pick the person who orders an iced peach lemon tea." Chenle was insistent. "One more round, dude." So they resumed their game until they heard someone order the drink.
"Iced peach lemon tea, please." A female voice ordered which caught both of the attention. Jeno turned around to see the person who ordered the drink and raised his eyebrow as he watched you and your friend slid into the corner booth. His eyes blinked slowly and his eyebrows knitted together; there was something about you that seemed oddly familiar but he couldn't quite pinpoint it. Were you in the same class as him? No. He would've remembered seeing someone as pretty as you in his class. A party? Not that either.
"We found your girl." Chenle cackled while he rubbed his hands together like an evil maniac. "The bet officially starts now. Go ask her out."
Jeno dusted his hands off his black cargo pants, ready to get up from the chair after hours slummed in the chair, when a cashier approached Chenle. "I'm sorry but we have to ask you to leave the premise." She informed about his much needed departure.
"What?" His voice boomed throughout the gigantic, enclosed space. "For what?!"
"People have been complaining about the disruptive noise." She glanced nervously at him. "Which is you."
"I've been anything but disruptive! These bitches should mind their business!" His voice grew louder and louder without his realising it. People stared at him with a frown on their faces.
At this point, heat crawled up from Jeno's neck all the way up to his ears and he had his head down in embarrassment. "Chenle, apologise and leave." He whispered in a hushed tone to Chenle.
"No, I want to watch you ask her out." He whined to Jeno.
"Just apologise and leave. I promise I'll ask her out." Jeno lightly scolded Chenle like was a child.
"Fine, I will leave but I will not apologise for simply existing." He snagged his sunglasses on and sashayed out the door.
"Sorry about the disturbance," Jeno flashed a sheepish smile at her, only for her to return a tight smile before she went back to the counter.
Jeno sat back down again and waited for everyone's to focus on their own thing. He glanced at you and noticed that your friend had gotten up and left the place, leaving you all by yourself. He watched the way your features tightened when you read a specific part of a book and your slightly frown on your on the corner of your lips. That's when it hit him! You were the girl he pucked! He had visited you a couple of times in the hospital while you were still unconscious, you looked frail and grey on your bedside, he even met your parents who were understanding of the whole situation. Despite that, the guilt never faded and he wanted to see you and apologise in person once he heard that you woke up, but your parents informed him that you were focusing on recovering and didn't want to relive the moment - scared that it might trigger you. So, he left you alone. It was like fate had brought you back to him and not some stupid bet.
Jeno got up from his seat and went to you. "Hey, you're yn right?" he whispered softly but it caught your attention as you looked up at him.
You froze. Lee Jeno coming up to you was not a daily occurrence (more of a never occurrence). You took a quick glanced at his attire: team hoodie and black cargo pants. He has practice today. Maybe it was the combination of you noticing anything Jeno related and him being a creature of habit that you instantly knew what he was up to based on his outfit. If he wore his team hoodie with cargo pants or track pants, he had practice and if he wore a simple shirt or his leather jacket, it meant that he didn't have practice that day. "Hi," your confused tone didn't go unnoticed by him.
"You're the girl I accidentally pucked, right? I'm really sorry." He apologised sheepishly. "I'm Jeno by the way," he introduced himself to you like he wasn't one of the most well-known guys on campus and extended his hand to shake with yours.
You muffled a chuckle at his cute behaviour and shook his hand. "Yeah, I heard from my parents that you dropped by often."
"I've been meaning to get in touch with you but your parents said you were focusing on recovering." He shoved his hands in his black cargo pants as he talked. "How are you doing?"
"Well, had a raging concussion but now I'm better than ever. Even got a break thanks to you." You cracked a light joke and he chuckled in return.
"Can I treat you to a meal? As reparation for pucking you." He asked you.
"Right now?"
"If you're free. Or, any other time is fine too, just let me know."
Your heart raced at the thought of being on a one-on-one date with Jeno, even though he didn't say it was a date but whatever. Years of admiring and creeping him from afar, and sure, you've imagined countless of ways how your meet cute would be but this took a surprising turn, "now is fine," you replied.
It was a family-style restaurant with dim-lights, warm ambiance, and cozy food. It wasn't too far from campus and it was a place that you and Jeno frequented often with your respective friends. A heavy guilt settled in Jeno's chest as he watched you happily devour your food with a glint on your face. He has disappointed girls on more than one occasion, even angered them, but to his defence, he made it clear from the beginning what being with him entailed. However, using a girl for his own personal benefit, a stupid bet, was stooping too low for him. Especially a girl he accidentally concussed. With shaky hands he placed his utensils down on the table. "Listen," he braced himself, "I have something to confess."
You stopped eating midway and stared at him. Jeno had a cool exterior implanted on his face but there was a concerned look on his face that you couldn't decipher, yet, it made you anxious.
"I wasn't completely honest with you when I asked you out to dinner." He trailed off for a second before confessing, "this was a bet."
The corners of your lips frowned the slightest and the grip on your fork tightened. "I'm sorry?" You blinked a couple of times making sure your hearing wasn't impaired, "this dinner was a bet?"
"The dinner itself wasn't a bet, dating you for three months was the bet." He explained. "Bet or no bet, I wanted to treat you either way, sorry it had to be like this."
You nodded your head. "And you picked me because…?"
"It was random. Chenle dared me to ask out the person who orders an iced peach lemon tea and we have to date for three months." Jeno explained.
You snickered at the mention of Chenle, "wow, that is so Chenle."
"You know him?"
"Yeah, we're kinda like friends, I guess. He hangs out with my friends a lot."
"Mine too." You both chuckled at this while Jeno ran his hand through his soft hair. "Sorry fuck, it was shitty of me for using you like this, especially after I caused you a concussion."
"Yeah, you did." You nodded in agreement.
"I'll just pay and I won't disturb you ever again."
Jeno's honesty about the whole situation reminded you exactly why you fell for him even more. It was a couple years ago and you and a group of girls were simply having fun at a club, minding your own business, when a guy kept harassing some of the girls in your group for their phone number. He had a sleezy grin on his face and danced way too close to you guys and everytime you guys moved away, he moved even closer, following wherever you all went. You didn't even realise Jeno was also at the club with his friends, he went up to guy and practically scared the creepy dude away with his mere presence. Although he left with another girl that night, your heart fell even deeper for him. "What's the prize?" You asked as you took a bite of your food.
Jeno cocked his head to the side with a slight eyebrow raised, intrigued by your reaction. You were a stranger to him so he wasn't sure what to expect from you: hitting, kicking, or even throwing food at him."If I win, Chenle owes me 1000."
"Real money?" Your eyes widened at the amount for a stupid bet.
"Yes, direct transfer."
"And if you lose?" You followed up with a different question.
"He gets my motorbike." Jeno groaned at the thought of Chenle's grubby hands all over his bike.
"He doesn't even have a license!" You pointed out.
"That's exactly what I said!" Jeno remarked while a small corner of his lips lifted.
"So, are you going to lose your Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R to him now? "
His eyes glinted with amusement at you name-dropping his bike, "most likely," he replied, "probably going to get it scratched or lose it before he completely abandons it at his place forever."
"Or, you can like not give it to him." You suggested. "You are physically stronger than him."
He inhaled a hissed, "a deal is a deal, doll," and a real man, according to Jeno, always lives up to his promises no matter what and it wasn't your problem to deal with but his.
"Ah," a quiet silence stretched over between the two of you as only the cluttered sounds of utensils and faint chatter from other tables filled in the background. "What if you don't have to lose it?" You stared at him right in the eye.
Jeno furrowed his eyebrows at your question. "What do you mean?"
"We can make easy money." You explained to him,"we'll pretend to date for three months, split the money, and then break up." You explained. "And you get to keep your bike and Chenle doesn't have to any know about any of this." Maybe there was a side effect of the concussion. The most logical thing you should've done was throw water in his face and walk away but somehow you weren't angry with the revelation. Disappointed? Yes. Angry? No.
"I don't get into relationships." He commented on your plan.
"I said pretend to date but ok then," you shrugged off the thought of making easy money down the drain and resumed eating your food, might as well get some reparations from him. "You alright if I order dessert?" You asked for the waiter before he even replied to your dessert question - maybe extra food too but he didn't seem to notice since he was busy cutting up his meat. Your eyes gleamed when the waiter brought over the dessert, a decadent-looking chocolate cake, which swiftly came within minutes.
On the other side of the table, Jeno was mulling your offer in his head as you happily ate your dessert; you even offered to share the chocolate cake with him but he shook his head, letting you indulge the entire thing. The proposition you offered meant that he would still win the bet and keep his bike while you get a portion of the prize money too. The more he watched you beamed while eating, the more it seemed like a compelling offer. "Let's do it." He muttered.
"Do what?" The offer no longer swirled your head as you indulged in the sweet chocolate cake.
"What you said," he clarified, "pretend to date."
"Really? You just said you don't date." You scrutinised him.
"I don't date. Like what you said, we'll pretend to date for three months, go to parties and games together, but we'll secretly see whoever we want." He proposed the plan to you.
"Won't people out you as a cheater if you hook up with other people?" You questioned him as you ate the frosting off the chocolate cake.
"Don't worry, they're not from here." He reassured you.
"Ok, that all seems fine but I'm not going to your games. Ever." You hummed in deep thought as you finished up your chocolate cake. "And! I dump you, not the other way round."
Jeno nodded once. "Sure, I don't care about the who dumped whom stuff."
"And!" You piped up one more time. "You have to star in my film assignment."
"Ahh," his body shifted awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I can't act."
"Don't worry about it," you waved off a hand, "there's no script yet but I just need you for your body." A waiter came by with your takeaway and set it on the table but her innocent eyes were wide opened and left but not without giving you and Jeno a shaky stare.
"So, I'm a prop to you?" He playfully asked you.
"Ahhh," you faked winced and touched your previously injured forehead.
Jeno knew you were playing around but he couldn't help but felt a wave of guilt when you pointed to your forehead. "Ok," he let out a reluctant sighed, "I'll do it but I warned you about my acting skills."
You stopped pretending to be hurt and instantly released a satisfactory smile at him. You extended your hand towards Jeno, "deal," your right hand suspended in the air, waiting for Jeno to shake on it.
He hesitated for a second but held onto your right hand without shaking it. "Remember, please don't fall in love with me. People want more from me even though I told them from the beginning that I don't do relationships and I don't want to hurt you a second time." Jeno said in a hushed tone as he stared at you with a determined gaze.
You pulled an easy smile that hid your true feelings for him. "Don't worry, that flew out the window the moment your puck hit my head." You smoothly lied to Jeno, your heart twisted in agony but you kept a light expression on your face.
"What's it about, anyways?" He asked.
"I'm tinkering with the idea of murder."
He cocked his head to the side. "Huh, that's different. Never expected you to do something like this."
"Well, yeah, the assignment was to explore a dark theme like addiction or drugs, really it's up to us."
"Sounds cool."
"The Professor is going to submit all of our work to this local competition and the most critically acclaimed piece, but they will also take account the amount of views from the public, will win a sponsored trip!" You excitedly told him.
A small corner of Jeno's lips lifted upwards and his eyes twinkled in amusement. "So, you're using me for clout." He leaned in closer to you.
You involuntarily moved your head back. You touched your injured spot and let out a faux winced - again. "Ahh, my head," even dropped your head down to make it realistic.
Jeno chuckled at your antics. "Are we going to go with the murder storyline?" He asked. "Am I the murderer?"
"Yeah no, I thought about it and I like the idea of murdering you, not the other way round." The same waitress came by with the check and the card machine. The machine vibrated due to her shaky hands as Jeno tapped his card on it. "Excuse me, can I have extra paper napkins please?" You politely asked the waitress; you loved collecting little knick knacks from places you visited and paste all of them in a journal - a visual diary of the mundane things in your life.
When she came back with your paper napkins, she also gave Jeno an extra one which confused him because he didn't request for one. He opened it and laughed when he saw what had been written on it.
"What's so funny?" You asked him.
He slid the paper to you. Tap on the table twice if you need help. Your jaw dropped to the floor in disbelief while Jeno continued to laughed. You both got up from your seats and before he exited the door, he stopped by the waitress who gave him the paper napkin, "thanks for being concerned about me but I'm more than fine," and left a tip for her.
The notification sound from his phone reminded him that he was running late to meet you for the filming, so he stealthily left the bed without a noise. Goodbye. He glanced one last time at her slumber figure. It happened again, just when he thought everything was going well, she confessed how she wanted more from him: a label, a relationship. And just like that, it ended.
He biked his way to the location you shared since you wanted to film outside of campus. By the time he had arrived, you were already there waiting for him and waved at him. The day before yesterday, Jeno had received the script for the assignment that he could refer to; the film will focus on Jeno's character's daily life, a popular and well-liked guy, who one day receives an anonymous love letter. The letter seemed harmless at first but the more "Jeno" ignored it, the more he felt like someone was watching his every move until his paranoia is what kills him. Shivers. Literal chills went through his bones when he read your script. It was dark and twisted, presented in an everyday life situation, a twist within a twist.
It felt nostalgic seeing him with black hair because the last time time you saw him with black hair was when you went to his first ice hockey game. Then, he dyed his hair chestnut brown, blonde for a brief period, blue when you unfortunately got hit by the puck, red, and now black. Your heart fluttered a bit when he came closer. "I like your hair," you complimented him.
"Thanks, it's been awhile," he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Yeah, I know." Your words slipped.
Jeno quirked an eyebrow at your words. "How do you know it's been awhile?" He crossed his arm with an amuse smile on him. "You like me, huh?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy," you hissed sarcastically and patted him on the back awkwardly. Damn, he's so hard. His back muscles, ok!
Jeno bit back a smile and cleared his throat, "so, what are we going to do today?"
"We're going to be filming some scenes out of order but the main scene I want to film is you on a busy street, going to different places but you're constantly looking over your shoulders because you feel like someone is watching you but nothing is there and your paranoia is feasting inside you like a parasite," you explained the objective of today's shoot.
Jeno took a step back after you explained everything, "this is fictional, right?" His tone wavered with anxiety.
"I promise that no actors will be harmed in the making of this film." You placed your hand to your heart with a smile stitched on you.
Time flew by fast, filming one scene after another, and snack breaks in between, of course, until the sun had set. You stretched out your body since your body was aching from crouching down all day. "Thanks for today, Jeno, you did great," and gave him a thumbs up.
"As long as there's minimal talking." He cracked a joke and you lightly laughed at it.
At that moment, you received a text from your friends asking you when you were coming. Oh yeah! You were supposed to meet them at the food festival on campus tonight. "I gotta go back now, my friends are waiting for me." You told Jeno.
"Alright," he shuffled his feet against the asphalt road, "how are you going back by the way?"
"I'll take the bus if there's time or take the cab if I'm in a pinch." You zipped up the camera in its bag and double checked just to make sure everything was in there.
"Or, I can drop you off." Jeno offered.
"You came here with your bike, right?"
"Yeah, and it's faster if we go back with it," he gestured to his monstrous vehicle and buckled in his helmet.
Pre-injured you would've immediately hopped on without a second thought because no way were you going to turn down a fun ride on a cool motorbike. However, post-injured you discovered how difficult it was to recover from an injury and motorbikes were notorious for it. "I'm not getting on that gigantic thing without a helmet," you remarked.
"Oh, wait." Jeno took out a spare helmet beneath the seat of the bike and placed it on your head. "Ah, this is not going to work," he knocked the side of the helmet and it wobbled over your head, "it's too big."
You removed the helmet off your head, "it's fine, I'll take a cab."
"Nonsense," he took the helmet back and laid it back in its place and then started measured the circumference of your head with his fingers. "I'll get crucified if people found out you went back yourself at night when I'm right here, you know, now that we're fake dating."
"Uhhh, what are you doing?" A bit confused with his random action.
"Measuring the circumference of your head." Once he measured your head, he noted it down on his phone, "wait here," and left with his bike but came back within ten minutes.
"That was fast," you were surprised at the speed he left and came back.
"Yeah, the shop's nearby." He took out another, smaller helmet this time that was identical to his. It was black and, this time, it fitted your head perfectly; he knocked his knuckles on the side of the helmet and smiled. "Perfect, now your head's protected."
You wobbled your head side to side and the helmet stayed perfectly intact. "Thanks!"
"Oh, shit." He realised, "I should've asked you what colour you wanted instead of buying black like mine."
You laughed at him. "It's ok, it's cute. It could be our couple's item." You reassured him.
Jeno's heart skipped a beat at your statement. "Ok, let's go," he gave you a handsome smile. He straddled in the front and patted the backseat for you. "Sit here."
You took a deep breath and position yourself behind him on the edge of the seat, with a respectable distance from him and placed your hands on his shoulders. "Ok, I'm ready!"
"It's safer if you hold onto me." He remarked.
"I'm good." You patted his shoulders. "Let's go!"
He cranked his head to the side, "suit yourself then." Jeno hit the pedal harder than he normally does so the bike jerked, and you ended up slipping forward right behind him - your chest pressed against his wide back. "You good?" He asked.
"Yeah," you held onto the sides of his jacket with a steady hold. "Ride safely."
At first, Jeno rode the bike at a slow pace, for him but not for you, he eventually got onto the highway as a shortcut to go back to campus, and that was when you wrapped your hands around Jeno's waist and felt his hard abs even beneath all the layers of clothing. He drove faster than usual and a sly, victorious smirk appeared when he felt you hugging him tighter.
People knew when Jeno was around because his bike was loud and people naturally looked at him. So, imagine the surprise on everyone's face when they realised, a girl, was getting off Jeno's motorbike - a never seen before phenomenon.
"What-" Ryujin watched you get off Jeno's motorbike at a food festival on campus ground.
"The-" Yeji's eyes widened and her jaw dropped when she realised it was you with Lee Jeno.
"Fuck." Haechan muttered with his mouth full of corndog.
All three of them froze when Jeno took off your helmet first before he did his. "Hey guys! How's the food so far?" You cheerily greeted Ryujin and Yeji like nothing unusual was happening.
"What the fuck is happening here?" Haechan spoke clearly now that his corndog was all chewed up.
You tilted your head at Haechan with a nonchalant expression, "what?"
"This!" Ryujin made weird gestures with her that was directed at you and Jeno.
"Is this why you were late?" Yeji side-eyed Jeno.
"Yeah, he was helping me film."
"Oh," Haechan smirked, "what kind of filming?"
"It's for an assignment." Jeno rolled his eyes at Haechan's obvious sexual innuendo.
"That's how most of my favourite videos start of," Haechan suggestively commented, which pissed Jeno off because the nature of your relationship was far from that, in a quick swift, Jeno headlocked Haechan with his arm until Haechan tapped out and apologised. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jeno released him while Haechan coughed out a choked, gasping for air.
"Is that it?" Ryujin asked you.
You glanced at Jeno before you answered her question, "he's also my boyfriend," and wrapped your hand around his bicep.
"What!" All three of them yelled out at the same time in a disastrous panic full of questions and rage.
"You didn't tell us anything!" Ryujin and Yeji whined and kept on asking questions.
Haechan reacted the same way, "but you don't do relationships, what the fuck!" He pointed out to Jeno. "Is this some sort of dare? If yes, where do I sign up? This shit would be easy money to make."
You and Jeno gave each other a knowing look, and didn't even get a chance to respond to any of the questions because another friend of yours, Wonjin, came back with some fried food and some of Jeno's other friends from the hockey team showed up - unaware of the commotion you both caused.
"Hey, what's happening?" Wonjin asked as he took a bite of his langos.
"They're dating," Yeji replied.
"You guys are dating?! Sungchan piped up instead of Wonjin.
"Since when?" Serim asked with eyes that popped out his socket.
"Dude, are you being for real?" Mark asked while everyone else huddled up even closer to you both, waiting patiently for his answer.
"Yes," Jeno replied in a simple tone.
"I don't trust you, Lee Jeno." Wonjin shook his head as he pointed his finger at him.
"Make her cry and I'll cut your balls off." Ryujin threatened with neck slice motion.
"But you ghost girls after they confess their feelings to you!" Serim pointed out in agony.
"The concussion got to her." Yeji commented while she fawned all over you. "You hypnotized her when she was in a coma."
"No, I don't trust any of this." Sungchan crossed his arms.
"It's super, super, sus." Mark repeated in disbelief. "Like, super sus. Super."
Small beads of sweat clamped up in the palm of Jeno's hands when one of them asked how and when they started dating. It hadn't been that long since your first "date" and you had never discussed your backstory. Jeno glanced down at you and interlocked his hands with yours. "It's real, we went out on a date." The tone of his voice was not convincing anyone, including you.
"Yeah, it's all still very new but we are dating." You added on. "We started texting each other after I recovered and then he asked me out on a date and here we are."
A collective sound of ah's and ooh's chorused within the group, even Jeno was impressed with your quick coverup.
"Why didn't you tell us earlier that you were talking to him?" Wonjin asked you.
"Because it was nothing, and all of a sudden it was something." You shrugged.
"You owe us a detail story later ," Ryujin remarked, "and my threat still remains!" She pointed her fingers at him.
"Can we go eat now or what? I'm over this." Haechan complained and everyone agreed to it.
"We're going to steal her for now," Yeji hooked her arm with yours and pulled you away from Jeno, "you will always be second priority, Lee Jeno."
You flashed a mischious grin when a bright idea popped in your head, "Jeno, is it ok if I order fries?" You asked him in a sweet voice.
"Is it ok if you order fries?" Yeji repeated after you and gave a menacing stare to Jeno.
"Shit," Haechan raised his hand, "I didn't know you were controlling like that."
"We don't fuck with him like that." Sungchan made an "X" sign with his arms.
"What a control freak," Serim commented.
Sweats ran down the sides of his temples and his hands became even clammier over this random accusation. "I'm not! You can have all the fries you want!" Jeno uttered out in a panic.
"Wow, so now you don't care about her sodium intake." Wonjin sighed.
"She just recovered from a head injury which you caused. What sick kind of behaviour is this?" Haechan remarked.
"You don't care for her fucking health!" Mark cried out.
Their scolding and angry voices drowned out of Jeno's ears when he caught your eyes staring at him and watched how you were failing miserably trying to hold back a laughter. Oh, you were trouble.
Rumours floated around on campus that the Lee Jeno, who was infamous for rejecting relationship advances, happened to be in one. People had seen you and Jeno walk around on campus or on "dates" but everyone brushed it off thinking it wasn't real or it was temporary. Especially since you had never shown up to any of his games - classic 101 girlfriend support.
So imagine the surprised or shocked looks on everyone's faces when you walked into the party with Jeno's hand on your back, guiding you through the crowded house, the ice hockey team's house - cementing the fact that you were in fact dating. Some even gave you nods of approval or dapped you up for locking the Jeno Lee down. Being with a popular person like Jeno meant that people would often come up to him just to say hi or make small talk and he never ignored any of them; being his girlfriend meant that you also received a similar treatment.
"There's the man of the hour!" Someone shouted as Jeno and you entered a room in the house that was slightly secluded from the loud music where everybody danced.
"My man makes history shooting the last shot in the last second!" Another one hollered.
"Pew, pew, pew." Some other guy threw Jeno a bro fist.
"Yo! Come join our game." Mark yelled out. There were a quite a few people gathered in a circle including: Haechan, Serim, Mark, Chenle, and Sungchan.
You took a seat first on the floor next to Chaeryeong and Jeno followed suit but Haechan called him out on it. "No couples next to each other!" and pointed him to a different seat beside Sungchan.
Chenle didn't missed the way Jeno frowned when he had to changed seats. "We're going to play Spin the Bottle, and instead of Truth or Dare which has been done to death, it's the Whisper Game." Chenle explained.
"The Whisper Game?" You whispered to Chaeryeong.
"Yup, it's just like Spin the Bottle and whoever the bottle points to, the person can whisper their question and your answer has to be someone within the circle." Chaeryeong explained. "If other people want to know what the question was, they have to take a shot."
"No boring questions or you're out of the game!" Haechan reminded everyone. "Let's gets drunk!" Everyone cheered and Serim spun the bottle first. It started off with easy questions and then it became more intense with secrets revealed or silly pent up emotions from someone else; either way, some people asked you questions, you asked other people questions, and you drank to a lot of it.
It was Chenle's turn to spin the bottle and it landed on you. At this point, your eyes were hazy, barely holding it open, and your sentence slurred with each word. Chenle went up to you and whispered his question, "who has the biggest dick?" Without hesitation, you pointed to Jeno.
"I'm drinking!" Sungchan took a shot,
"Me too!" Chaeryeong shouted.
Soon, the entire circle, including Jeno, had taken a shot so Chenle had to reveal the question. "The question was who has the biggest dick?"
"His 9-inch-dick!" You yelled out loud with a proud smile on your face but you were barely holding yourself together because your mind was so inebriated. "It's so huge and pretty…like," you widened the gap between your hands till it was around nine inches long and giggled to yourself, "this big."
Everyone laughed, hooted, or hollered at this and Jeno's ears were undeniably pink from all the attention. He watched how your head fell over Chaeryeong's shoulder and decided it was time to call it quits for the night. He got up from his seat and crouched down beside you who was still leaning on Chaeryeong's shoulder. "Do you wanna go now?" He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and spoke only loud enough for you to hear. The only response he got from you was a low hummed followed by an indecipherable sentence and took it as a cue to end the night.
"We're calling it in, thanks guys." He wrapped one hand behind your back and the other below your knees and lifted you off the ground.
"Boooooooo!" Haechan and everyone else chorused when Jeno carried
Jeno made his way upstairs to his bedroom and laid you down carefully on his bed. He had planned to pull over the blanket on you but you started muttering utter nonsense.
"Jeno," you whined drunkenly and touched his dick over his jeans. "Let me have it, please," and palmed over him.
"W-what?" He was flustered at your sudden behaviour and dropped the blanket down.
With clumsy hands but a desperate attitude, you unbuckled his belt with such ease for who a person who was not sober. "Just once, please." You pleaded while Jeno held your wrist together.
"N-no." He stuttered and held you down with zero strength from him.
"Please," you cried as you rubbed your face against his cloth dick that was slowly growing hard under your touch.
"No." He had to be more firm with you. You presented yourself with puppy-dog eyes which pulled a tug in Jeno's heart but he still shook his head.
"Fine," you frowned with your head down and he withdrew his hand from your wrist, relief that the worst was over. Or so he thought. Once your wrist was free from his restraint, you pulled down his jeans and boxer at the same time and his cock stuck out halfway because he stopped you once again. You cried at his restrained, "no fun," you pouted against his dick.
Jeno groaned as he tilted his head back; his first instinct was to grind against your face but resisted the urge because of you were clearly not sober. His cock grew harder, and you whining against it, wasn't making it easier for him. "No." He grunted and pulled you off him. The boxer and jeans was immediately pulled back up again but he hissed as his raging cock came in contact with the rough denim. You were still whining and crying at the lost warm contact of Jeno's touch and in desperate need, you pulled down your tube top and kneaded it. "Please, Jeno."
Fuck, you had the most perfect pair of tits he had ever seen in his life. Saliva drooled out just a little before he felt the insane guilt for watching you like this when you were drunk. His boner was now rock hard but he turned around and closed his eyes. He grabbed a hoodie of his and with his eyes closed, headed towards to put it on you but not without you putting up a fight.
"Don't want it, Jenoneno," you whined but Jeno won when the hoodie went through your head, he sighed a huge breath of relief; this was for your own good and his. He tucked you in like a burrito so you couldn't escape, it was for both of your own good.
You pouted at him. " 'jus wanted," you yawned mid sentence and your eyes fluttered closed, "your big dick." You were fast asleep.
Jeno eyes glinted with amusement as he silently chuckled. He tucked in a lock of hair that strayed to the front and with a gentle touch, softly grazed against the injured spot - a very small scar was visible. "Next time," he whispered.
There was a raging headache that pulsed through your head when you opened your eyes to a blurry vision. Your head throbbed from the pain but you let it passed until your vision unblurred itself to your surrounding; there was a computer on the desk at the end of the bed, a black helmet on the side table, and random equipments here and there.
A muffled grunt came out from beneath the blanket on the other bed across from yours. A familiar mop of black hair peeked out from it but the rest of the face was still covered with the blanket. You couldn't be bothered to figure out who it was this early in the morning and focused on the sweat that had uncomfortably accumulated on your body when you realised you were wearing a hoodie that was not yours. "Whose hoodie am I wearing?" You muttered to yourself as you tried to remember events before the game but only a dark and blank image came up.
"It's my hoodie," Jeno responded in a raspy voice and lazily pulled down the blanket to reveal his face.
"Jeno?" You asked, "where am I?"
"My room." He replied while sitting up straight on the bed, "and Sungchan's but I have no idea where he is." He looked at you for the first time and chuckled to himself.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "why are you laughing?"
"Nothing." He denied with a faint smile.
"Listen, did I," you took a deep breath, "do anything weird last night? I seriously don't remember anything after we started playing."
He paused for a second and then answered. "Nope, you just passed out." His eyes glinted with a playful look. "Except, you did call me Jenoneno."
Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth in a gasped. That was your personal nickname for him! Your inner thoughts slipped out while you were drunk! "And that's it right?" You laughed nervously, waiting for his response.
"Yeah, that's it." He nodded at you and you let out a breath of relieved. "Do you want water by the way?"
"Yeah, that sounds nice."
Jeno got up from the bed, still in the same outfit as last night's and searched for an unopened water bottle but only found empty cans of energy drinks that he should've thrown out a couple days ago. "Sorry, there's none here. Be right back," he stopped just as he was about to exit the room, "oh, the bathroom's here if you wanna use it, and don't worry, it's clean," he exited out the room and closed the door.
You stretched out your limbs one more time over the bed before you made your way to the bathroom. Jenoneno. Jenoneno. Jenoneno. It echoed in your mind a million times while you washed your face with water over the sink. The realisation hit you as you turned off the tap, all the memories flooded back to you: you against his dick, pulling his pants down, and flashing your boobs at him. No wonder he put a hoodie on you. He was saving you from embarrassment! You could literally die from embarrassment right there and then. Gosh, you didn't even liked drinking but the atmosphere got you too carried away.
You came out of the bathroom and thought about escaping through the window but Jeno came back with a water bottle and a singular banana in his hand. Darn it! Plan down the drain.
"Do you want to go out for breakfast?" He handed the items to you. "I would've made you something but the kitchen's a mess."
"Thanks," you muttered as you accepted it. "And no, I just want to go back to my room."
"Ok, I'll drop you off." He grabbed his keys and helmet off the table and headed out the door but you stopped him.
"N-no. I can go back by myself." You stuttered.
"Are you sure?" He cocked his head, "it's not a problem for me. I have to go out either way."
"Ye-yeah, I wanna walk by myself, you know, enjoy nature and all." You explained to him with a nervous tone underneath your voice.
"O-kay," personally, he would've preferred to go with you, especially since you didn't seem like you were in peaked condition but he respected your wish at the end of the day. "I'll see you off at the door, then."
"No!" The tone of your voice accidentally went an octave higher. "You stay here, I'll go." You handed back the banana and water bottle to him.
Jeno pinched his eyebrows together at your actions. "Umm, I'll just see you at the do-"
"No. Please stay." He looked like a confused dog with the way you were talking to him. He wasn't offended or anything - simply confused. You stepped forward and so did Jeno but you really couldn't face him right now. "Stay." You stopped him from following you. "Please."
"The do-"
"Stay." You walked backwards as you made sure Jeno was planted in the same spot. "Good boy." And with that, you ran out the house the moment you exited the door while Jeno watched you from the window.
"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked as he walked alongside you to the next location for the video - the campus garden. Even though he often felt awkward in front of the camera, your presence behind the camera and your constant encouragement gave him confidence and comfort to "act" in front of the lens. However, you were acting so differently today, almost as if you were avoiding him.
"I'm not." Your speed fastened up a bit when you felt his presence close to you. You absolutely were avoiding him. It took you a great strength of courage and screaming into your pillows before you dragged yourself to meet Jeno. "Ok, lighting seems good here." You played around with the camera and looked through the camera's viewfinder instead of him.
"You're still doing it." He teased you, seeing right through your facade. "Is this about yesterday?" He asked you.
"N-no. Ok, so now we're going to do the scene where yo-"
"yn," he pleaded in a serious tone that you've never heard before and gazed you with a sincere look in his eyes.
You smacked your dry lips and lowered down the camera, timidly nodded with an apologetic look on your face. "I'm sorry for harassing you like that. I don't know what I was thinking." You finally gained the courage to look at him in the eye.
He let out a hearty laughed and slung an arm around your shoulder, "it's fine, we all do stupid shit when we're drunk." He lifted your chin with a touch of his thumb when he noticed how quiet and sullen your face looked. "There was also a time when I got so drunk that I stole a kitten from its mommy and the next day she showed up and scratched me up real bad." He showed you the a small scar on his arm that was still visible.
"That's a cute story not an embarrassing one." Your lips jutted out just a bit.
He unslunged his arm from your shoulder and took your hands in his, tracing soft patterns on it. "There was a time we got so drunk that we trespassed a property to skinny dip in someone's house while they were having dinner."
"What?! Did they call the police or what?" You gasped in shocked at this revelation.
"Yeah they called the police on us," he laughed, "but jokes on them cause the police squad that they dispatched, coincidentally, ended up being my brother."
You snickered at his story, "that's a funny story, not an embarrassing one," and playfully rolled your eyes at him.
He hissed in a breath and held your hands even tighter in his, "we promised to take this to our graves but there was a time I was so shit drunk that I peed on Haechan."
"What?!" You screeched and scowled and moved his hands away from yours face "Ewwww, don't touch me."
"That was a long time ago!" He pointed out and tried to reach for your hands but you swatted him away.
"Don't touch me," you avoided his touch but he kept trying to grab it just to annoy you because of a grin on his face, so you ran away far away from him.
Jeno merely jogged behind you, "come back here. That's why I stopped drinking heavily!"
"Stay away from me." Although you tried to run as fast as possible, your speed was no match compared to Jeno's, a literal athlete, because he effortlessly caught up to you and tackled you on the ground within seconds. "No, no, disgusting, ew." You cried as he pinned you down on the dry grass.
"Shh, don't say that," his eyes widened and he placed a hand over your mouth, "people are going to get the wrong idea," and removed his hand from your lips. You realised that you were both in a compromising position since he hovered above you with knees straddled on either side of your body and his face was inches away from yours; his pupils dilated when you drowned in his eyes, you followed the movement of his gaze where it dropped down to your lips and back again to your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.
There was another secret that you had kept to yourself; there were days when your feelings for Jeno is so intense and the only way to let them out of their bubble was to write them down in your Jeno journal. It was a small, black notebook that fits into the palm of your hands, very safe and unassuming to an outsider's eye. You bring that little notebook everywhere with you, though there was a possibility of you losing it somewhere one day, at least you didn't write down his address and have someone mail it to him, that would be embarrassing. He was the only crush of yours that made it into your book.
Today was one of those days. You had just finished your violin practice with your club, which always left your neck strained and sore and even a little hickey on your neck from the long practice. You and Jeno had met up with your friends who were still skeptical of Jeno's intention with you so they grilled him to the bones but he answered everything with such ease that you almost believed that everything was real. The little subtle way that he touches you and takes care of you made your heart race but the moment it was just the two of you, the fantasy disperses because he casually mentioned that he had to leave and meet up with someone. That was the reality of your arrangement.
Your fingers flew across the page, word by word, when a knock on the door interrupted your trope of writing. You got up from the chair, thinking it was Ryujin who forgot to bring her key again but it was Jeno who stood at your door. "Jeno? Hi." You couldn't hide the surprise in your voice. "What are you doing here?"
"You accidentally left your water bottle with me." He handed you the item.
"Oh," wow, no wonder you felt parched even after drinking your iced peach lemon tea the entire day, "thanks Jeno, I needed it."
Jeno stood still at the doorway, observing the state of your room which was a lot more spacious than the average dorm room: the big lights were switched off, only your fairy lights, small lamp, and candles lit up the room in a warm embrace, a mini plant whose leaves gravitated towards the ground and another bed across from yours. "You have a cozy room. Who's your roommate?" He pointed to the bed.
"Thanks! It's Ryujin's but she's out right now."
"On the first floor? Damn, that's hard to get." Jeno knew that if he wasn't part of the ice hockey team, it would be difficult to get a spacious room like yours, especially if it was on the first floor.
"Yeah, they offered it to me when I came back in exchange of, you know, the possibility of not suing them." You explained the situation to him.
He laughed. "That's a pretty good trade."
"Eh, probably should've sued." You shrugged casually.
He looked around some more and noticed your pinboard that he could see from where he stood. There were polaroid pictures of you with your friends and family over the years with little tickets that decorated the board and he even recognised some mutual friends on your board like Chenle. One particular poloroid picture that stood out to him amidst the sea of them was the ice arena that was practically his second home; there was Yeji, Ryujin, Wonjin, Taerae, Chenle, and some other people he didn't recognised, and you, smiling brightly at the camera. He could tell this was taken way before you had even gotten pucked based on Chenle's blonde hair. There was a hollow heart ache that settled in his chest and a question that drummed in his mind, why hasn't he seen you before? There were a couple of other pictures of you at the ice arena but he could not believe he had never met you till you were pucked. A silent want to belong there. "You've been to quite a few of my games," he chuckled as he pointed it out.
"Yeah," you noticed his eyes were also looking around at your desk, where you left your Jeno journal out in the open, so you stealthily snapped it shut. Whew. "Dragged by friends for the experience or what not." Truth be told, you had never minded being dragged to his games even though you pretended to be against it, saying it was boring or just not your thing. You liked watching Jeno play and part of the reason you took plenty of poloroid pictures at his games was because you wanted a picture with him. He was always there in the background even though it was hard to see because he was far away but you knew and that was all you needed. You've seen girls going up to Jeno asking for pictures and he was always so sweet and never said no, you even contemplated asking for one too but felt too embarrassed because you were with your friends and you knew they wouldn't live it down. Just then, your tummy grumbled loudly on cue.
He chuckled at the sound of it. "You hungry?"
"Yeah, just one of those days. I'm probably going to make ramen after this." Even though it was the least appetising food that sounded right now.
"You wanna go out?" He asked you out of nowhere.
"This late at night?"
"There's a diner-style restaurant that's open nearby," he said, "they have really good burgers and milkshakes."
"You had me at milkshakes," already slipping on your hoodie that hung on the back of your chair.
"That was the last thing I said." He pointed out.
There was a natural routine that fell into place now that you often ride his bike with him: he helps you with your helmet then he does his, and you jump to the back while he's at the front and tightly hug around his waist before he motors off.
It was a short ride to the 24/7, diner-style restaurant, 90's Love. You had no idea how you missed this place because it had bright neon lights right in front of it - sometimes you miss the things that are right in front of you. You ordered their signature combo burger with loaded fries and strawberry milkshake while Jeno got a double-double burger for that extra protein and a coke.
"The burger is so good," you moaned in contentment as you chewed down another bite of the juicy burger. "The milkshake too!" You took turns sipping the strawberry milkshake and taking a bite out of the burger, a perfect combination.
"And the loaded fries," he stuffed a couple of fries, that was in between the two of you since you sat side by side in the booth so you both decided to share, down his mouth.
"Ooh, haven't tried the fries yet," you took a couple and copied him, "oh, that's good," you beamed happily.
"Got a little sauce on you," he wiped the sauce on the corner of your lip with his bare thumb and sucked the remnants of it before he went back to his burger.
Your heart throbbed at his casual yet intimate display of contact, now incredibly conscious of how close you were together, he probably does it for other people too. "I don't know if it's true or not," you said in between your bites, "but I heard Prof Sooyoung and your coach were a thing back in the day."
Jeno swallowed his bite. "Oh, they were. I think Haechan said that…" the rest of the night was filled with gossips, anecdotes and small laughers shared between the two of you with you gasping and lightly hitting him on the arm
"The last fry," you picked up the singular fry and waved it like a trophy, "you should have the honour because you just introduced me to my new favourite place."
"Wow, this is such an honour," a light sarcastic remarked from Jeno.
"Here you go," you held it in front of him but he didn't take it from you.
He looked at the golden fry and then at you, "feed it to me," his signature eye smile twinkled.
You playfully rolled your eyes, but you let him take the bite from your hand and he did it without dropping his eye contact on you. There was a beat of silence in the thickened air - and it wasn't just the smell of grease - you cleared your throat, "I need to wash my hands," and got up to go to the bathroom. There were no tissues inside the bathroom so you left your hands wet, because let's be real, you would rather have wet hands than use the hand dryer, ew.
Jeno washed his hands in the bathroom but he just wiped them on his pants. He noticed your wet hands and got up from his seat, "be right back," he went up to the counter and grabbed a couple of tissues.
"Hey Jeno," a guy entered with a couple of his friends dapped Jeno up. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, just grabbing a late night meal with my girlfriend." Oh. The word was foreign to him but he didn't hate the way it came out of him. Jeno reciprocated the handshake, it took him a second but he recognised that the person as the guy who occasionally plays basketball with Chenle and he had asked Jeno to be his model for his portrait back then but Jeno turned it down because Chenle asked him first. "How about you, Keeho?"
"Yeah, fresh off the court," he imitated a whooshing sound and threw an invisible basketball in front of him, "yo, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Can you be in my film assignment?"
"Sorry Keeho, yn already asked first." Jeno apologised apathetically.
"Oh." Keeho glanced at you who was sitting at the booth by yourself, "ok."
"See you around Keeho," and Jeno left with a stack of tissues in his hands and went to you. Without a word, he took your damp hands and wiped them with gentle care. You sat there wordlessly but let Jeno do his thing. "All done," a faint smile spread on his lips.
"Tha-thank you, Jeno." A bit embarrassed and shy that Jeno did that for you despite the fact that you were more than capable of doing it. "I could've done it myself."
"Yeah, but I wanted to do it," he hummed.
At that moment, Keeho and some of the other guys walked by with a gigantic bowl of delicious ice cream. Your mouth salivated at the sweet assortments on it even though you already had your milkshake. "Do you want dessert?"
"Not really into sweets but we can if you want." Jeno replied.
"Oh," the corner of your lips frowned at his response. "No, I don't want it."
"Are you sure?" Jeno asked as he saw the visible changed in your mood.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go back." The sparkling night sky blanketed the deserted parking lot with only a couple of dimly lit streetlights that decorated the lot. Jeno's humongous yet sleek motorbike shone under one of the streetlight and curiosity got the better of you. "Can you teach me how to ride your motorbike?"
He hissed at your question, "this bike is not exactly beginner friendly."
"Oh, please!" You put your hands together and begged him but he still shook his head. Then, you grabbed his hands and swung it side to side. "Please, please, please?" You fluttered your eyes at him.
He gulped his throat at your insistence and his heart skipped a beat, almost persuaded by your swaying. "No, it could be dangerous."
"Please, the parking lot is empty," you begged some more.
"Still, the bike-" He laced your hands in his and circled patterns on it.
You frowned in disappointment and tried to let go of his hands but he held onto it. "Fine then, I guess getting hit in the head was good enough." You touched your head and winced out a fake pain.
He laughed, "how long are you going to milk this?"
"Till you teach me how to ride your bike."
"Fine then," he admitted defeat and you cheered, "you're lucky you're pretty," he whispered to himself. "But you have to listen to me, it's for your own good," he reminded you in a " I mean business" voice.
"Sir, yes sir," you saluted Jeno with an upright body.
He playfully rolled his eyes at you. "Ok, helmet first no matter." He put on the protective gear on you and tightened it up. "Now, we can start."
Without a second to spare, you huddled in the front while Jeno stood to the side and started the engine. "This is brake and this is the accelarator,"and showed the two different handles on either side of the bar. "Pull down on this clutch and place your foot on the shifter," he gently directed your limbs to where you needed to go. "Just give the accelerator a bit of a boost and lean in the direction you want to go, like riding a bike, got that?" He asked you.
"Got it." You gave him a thumbs up, nervous yet excited to drive the exotic vehicle.
"Be careful, ok?" He asked you once more before he let go.
"Ok, here I go." The motorbike moved at a snail's pace and the motorbike jerked when you gave it a boost but you kept on going like Jeno said, "ah!"
"You're good, just keep on going!" It was a freeing feeling to be one with the wind!
"Don't go too fast!" Jeno reminded as he watched you go in circles in the empty parking lot.
You felt more confident with the motorbike and boosted it faster around the empty parking lot. "This is so much fun!" You smiled happily when you felt the cold breeze against your face. "How do I stop?"
"Slow down and come to me." He guided you towards him and you followed his directions. Once you were near him, Jeno shifted the gears and switched off the engine for you. "How was it?"
"Exhilarating!" You commented with a bright beamed on your face. "Can I drive back?" There was a glow of excitement on your face. "I think I can handle this."
"Babe, you don't have a license and I'm not about to get in trouble for this." You frowned but Jeno gave in when he saw your sullen expression. "Fine, maybe when we're on campus and near the dorm, then you can drive." Jeno took over the front seat as you scooted to the back and hugged his waist in a tight embrace - you were his backpack.
There was a new profound appreciation now that you knew how challenging it was to ride a motorbike and how Jeno effortlessly slips inbetween cars and traffic. Just as Jeno promised, once your dorm building was within your viewshot, you took over while Jeno sat at the back. Your stomach flipped when Jeno pulled you into his embrace from the back. "First time in this position," he commented. You recalled his earlier lesson and drove back to your dorm, more confident and smoother than your first time.
"We're here princess." You joked and stopped the vehicle in front of your dorm building, Jeno switched off the engine from behind you and kicked the stand into place.
Jeno got off from the bike first and then lifted you off the motorbike with one hand. "Thank you for driving me home," he played along and his eyes twinkled as he took off the helmet for you, his fingers lingering a second too long on your hair.
There was something missing in all the videos you've shot; you compiled all the footages you've made so far and organised them in chronological order according to your script on your laptop. Your fingers tapped on the table as you watched the videos one more time. It was good so far but there was no umph element to capture the audience's interest. You groaned out loud in the empty dorm room by yourself.
It was a Friday night, meaning Jeno had another match tonight. Sungchan's girlfriend, Shuhua, had invited you to sit join and watch the game with them, only to be met with a disappointed yet understanding sighed when you said you were never going to any of his games ever again. Even your friends including Ryujin and Yeji went out to watch the game tonight. You checked the time and the tournament hadn't started yet so you called him on your phone and waited for him to pick up the call. Even though you've never been to any of his games ever since you two became a "couple," you fell into a natural routine of texting or calling him before he started his game to wish him luck.
The phone rang a couple of times, "hey," he spoke a little bit out of breath, presumably just finished warm up.
"Hey! Is the game starting soon?" Your tone naturally perked up brighter upon hearing his voice.
"Soon. Was just warming up." The rhythm of his tone went back to normal. "Why? Are you coming?" He asked in a hopeful tone.
"Hmm, no, I'm not coming. I have to review the footage we have so far." Your tone was slightly down.
What's wrong?" He noticed your sullen tone over the phone. "Do we need to reshoot anything? I can squeeze sometime next week." He offered without even you asking for it.
"No, the scenes are perfect." You exhaled an exhausted sigh. "But somethings missing, there's no hook to reel people in." You placed your head down sideways on your desk and laid your phone on your ear.
"Well, what are others doing for their hook?" Even though his voice was still audible, the chatter and hollering in the background grew louder.
"My friend's doing something with toxic love so she's hooking them in with a makeout session."
"Well, sex always sells." He absentmindedly commented.
You lifted your head off the desk and held your phone in your hand again as an idea popped in your head when Jeno said that. "Jeno, can I see you after the game?" You asked in the sweetest voice you could muster.
"Uhm, sure, I'll drop by after the ga-" He answered with a bit of uncertainty since you had never asked to see him right after the game.
"No, I'll come to you!" You quickly inserted. "Please don't change out of your uniform by the way."
"Don't change out of my uniform?" Jeno was puzzled with your request but it seemed simple and innocent enough.
"Yes! Good luck Jeno!" You wished him luck.
You couldn't tell but he had a smile on his face. "Thanks, see you after the game."
From your previous experiences of going to a hockey game, you knew how long a game took and how much longer for the audience to dispersed from the arena, so you timed it perfectly that by the time you arrived at the arena, you only saw Jeno who lazily drifted the puck with his stick by himself.
"Is it safe for me to come in?" You barely raised your voice but the empty arena echoed your question.
All you heard was a hearty laughter from him, "yeah, come on in, babe." The casual mentioned of the pet name when no one was around made butterflies swirled around in your tummy. Oh, this was so going in the diary. You descended down the metal stairs of the arena until you reached Jeno who was still in his stakes on the ice rink. The stick and puck were safely tucked away, only him and the goal post were on the frozen ground.
"Hi! How was the game?" You greeted him from the dry area.
"It was good, we won." He greeted you with his signature eye smile, "also hi." He took your hand with his gloved one and carefully held onto it. You were face to face with each other and could see his drenched, flat hair and sweat that dripped on his temples; a complete contrast to your sweat-free appearance. A comfortable stretched over the atmosphere but you grew shyer when you felt Jeno's never ending intense gaze on you.
"Is the locker room empty by the way?" You asked to direct your shyness somewhere else.
"The locker room?" Jeno tilted his head to the side because he was still unsure of your plans.
"Yeah, I wanna film in the locker room."
"Oh, ok, sure, the boys are changing though." He replied without wavering his eye contact on you. "Give it a couple of minutes, they'll leave. Do you want to skate while we wait?" He asked with a hint of excitement in his tone.
"Sure, but it's been so long since I last skated." You nodded your head at him.
He chuckled as he got off from the icy floor to the dry, may area with his skates on and grabbed an extra pair of skates from behind one of the chairs. Then, he walked back to you and guided you to the chair. Even though he was still padded up with all his gear, with much difficulty, he bent down on one knee and laced up the pair of ice skates on you. "All done," he beamed up at you with an eye smile on his face.
You held onto Jeno's hand while you cautiously stepped on the frozen ground. The sharpness of the blade slipped, which made you wobbled but you were holding onto Jeno so you didn't fall. Jeno took off his gloves and dumped it somewhere, he then grabbed your cold, soft hands with his warm ones and skated backwards. The skates on your feet glided with ease as he dragged you around the rink with two hands; your feet grew familiar with the rhythm of the skates and you eventually let go of Jeno's hands and glided on your own. "I'm doing it!" You cheered brightly and Jeno mirroed the same smile as he continued skating backwards.
"Show off," you teased him when he effortlessly skated in circles around you while you skated at a slow pace.
Jeno simply laughed and continued to prey around you. "Let's race," he whispered beside your ear which left a tingling sensation in your body.
"Wanna bet?" You confidently proposed.
"Loser buys winner a drink?" He suggested.
"Deal, give me a head start." You weren't going to back down from a race even though it was your first time skating in forever.
"Is ten seconds good enough?" He positioned himself beside you.
"More than enough to beat you." You replied with a cocky attitude and steadied yourself next to him.
"From this end to the goalpost," he pointed to the goalpost on the other side of the rink.
"Got it." The distance was doable enough for you and you had deluded yourself into thinking you might even win because Jeno was giving you a head start.
"Ready, set, go." His skates were planted to the ice whereas you instantly dashed off from your starting position.
"One," Jeno counted down the seconds till it was his turn to dash off.
"Two," shoot! You weren't even a quarter way from your initial position - your pace was slower than you intended.
"Three," you gradually gained traction and you were skating with the ice and not against it.
"Four," almost halfway there! You looked back and Jeno had a proud smile with his eyebrows raised at you.
"Five," halfway there! You were practically gliding and tried to keep up with the momentum.
"Six," the goalpost was now clearer in view.
"Seven," you attempted to slow down your skates but was too scared at the speed you were going. Should've learned how to stop first!
"Eight," your eyes widened when you saw just how close the the metal goalpost was and tried to stop the skates like you've seen the way players do it but failed to replicate it and your knees wobbled.
"Nin-shit," Jeno finally caught on that you were most likely going to crash into the metal goalpost at the speed you were going, and he wasn't going to let you injure yourself under his watch, not again, and zoomed towards you within milliseconds, snatched you by the waist and turned you around so his back was facing the goalpost and was able to stop just a few inches short from the goalpost. "Got you," he whispered as his chest heaved up and down, his eyes flickered to your lips then to your eyes and so did yours. Both of your heads tilted closer to each other, a breath's away from a kiss, when the locker room door banged loudly against the empty arena.
"Oh! Someone's girlfriend is here!" Mark hollered when he spotted the two of you on the rink. You jolted away from Jeno's touch as more of his teammates exited the locker room.
"Awww!" Serim gushed at the sight of you two looking all lovey dovey. "What a cute couple!"
"He's so whipped!" Sungchan yelled.
"He was crying because she wasn't here!" Haechan evilly cackled.
You took a step back from Jeno as heat crawled up the back of your neck from embarrassment, while Jeno's ears turned red from the watchful eyes of his teammates.
"Don't get nasty guys! We all use the locker room." Haechan chortled followed by a chorus of boisterous laughter.
Jeno noticed a discomforted expression on your face and yelled back at them, "shut up." The guys only cackled like evil witches and even stuck out their tongue at Jeno before they hurriedly exited out the premise. They knew that Jeno knew that they were only brave enough to tease him like that because he couldn't physically get to them.
"Sorry about them, they're just weird like that," Jeno apologised sheepishly. "On the bright side, the locker room's free now." He remarked now that the whole arena was quiet again.
The embarrassment and shyness slowly faded away and was replaced with a playful glint in your eyes once you saw how close you were to the goalpost. "Ok," you replied and pretended to head to the exit but instead dashed for the goalpost. "I won!" You cheered happily and waved your hands in the air. "You have to buy me a drink!"
"You cheated!" Jeno's jaw dropped in disbelief but his eyes gleamed at your attitude.
"You're just jealous because I beat the star player at his own game," you patted his back in a pitiful way and glided away to the exit, leaving him by himself.
Jeno scoffed and poked his tongue out against his cheek before he quickly caught up to at the exit. Once again, he held your hands as he guided you to the chair and untied your skates first before he did his - the butterflies made an appearance in your stomach all over again over this simple action. Afterwards, Jeno brought you to the locker room when the mustiness and putrid scent of fresh sweat assaulted your nose. "Ugh," you pinched your nose. "Men smell."
"You get used to it." Jeno snickered in amusement. "So, what are we doing here?"
Right! Filming! "We're going to film the hook scene here in the locker room." You switched on the camera and played around with the angles and lighting to get the perfect view.
"Of…?" He trailed off as he stood there waiting for further instructions.
You cleared your throat for a second and answered in a soft voice, a contrast to your cocky attitude earlier. "Of you taking off your clothes," you pretended to fiddle around with the buttons and angles of the camera and refused to look him in the eyes.
Jeno offered a mischievous grin, "doll, you know you could've just asked me for a picture and I would've given it to you." you were avoiding his eye contact but his eyes followed your gaze everywhere you went. Cute. "You don't have to pretend it's for the assignment."
"It is for the assignment!" You insisted and met his gaze head on. "I need something to lure in the audience."
"Hmm," he hummed while he stroked his chin with a permanent smirk stiched on his face, "or you just wanted a topless video of me." He suggested in a raspy tone.
You shook your head at him, "it's for the assignment, it's the same thing you did for Chenle for his anatomical portrait."
Jeno's eyes scrutinised you with suspicions,"how do you know about the portrait?" The portrait assignment was a few semesters back for an elective class of Chenle's and he begged on his knees for Jeno to be his model, and Jeno agreed if it was only seen by the professor.
"He showed it to everyone." Chenle didn't show it to everyone, he accidentally left his sketchbook opened and you saw the page with Jeno's portrait on it, and maybe you snapped one or two pictures of it. Maybe.
"Wow, I need to have a word with him." He frowned slightly at the information given.
Oh crap! Did you just get Chenle in trouble? "He was just proud of it, no need to hound him about it," you awkwardly laughed. "Now, let's get started. All you need to do is take off your gear like normal, like I'm not even here," you explained the hook scene to him.
"How can I not notice a pretty girl with a camera pointing right at me?" He muttered too low for you to hear, but prepped himself in front of the locker while you started recording. The easy part was shedding of his jersey first, then protective gears off his shoulders and knee pads, until he was left with a tight compression shirt that hugged him deliciously and made his pecs stand out even more. From there on, you moved the camera closer to him and waited for him to rip off, take off, the shirt. Jeno made a show of tilting his head back as he took off his shirt, revealing the ridged abs that glistened under the fluorescent light. You took the time to film his body from his pecs all the way down to his faint happy trail. For the assignment.
"All done." You stopped filming since you were more than satisfied with the footage you had recorded. "Thanks Jeno! I'll wait outside while you get ready."
"Wait!" He caught your wrist before you could leave the locker room, "I know you said you won't ever go to my games ever again and I get it," he let go of your wrist and opened his locker to take a fresh and clean hockey jersey with the number "23" on it - Jeno's jersey. "If you ever change your mind one day, this is for you."
Ever since that day, something had shifted. Texts between you and Jeno usually consisted of "hi, are you free to film?" and a variation of "yes" or "no." Now? Jeno took the liberty to text you random questions about your day and when you asked him about his? He sent pictures to you: pictures of his food, pictures of him in class, pictures of him at practice, pictures of him shirtless at the gym, and pictures of him shirtless in bed. It left you flabbergasted when his texts became increasingly revealing and slightly more on the flirtier side but not once did he mentioned those shirtless pictures of him in bed whenever you two met up; he never acted differently towards you and kept it light and breezy.
"Where's your girlfriend?" Chenle mocked Jeno while he's sprawled all over Jeno's bed, scrolling on his phone.
Meanwhile, Jeno laid on the floor with his arm behind his head, scrolling through pictures of you when a text from a girl he had been seeing popped up, im so stress rn. "Working on her assignment," he replied in a bored tone.
"Yo, when's your movie done? Can't wait to watch it with the boys." Haechan spun around in Jeno's computer chair.
Jeno closed his eyes for a second before replying to Haechan. "It's not a movie, it's an assignment and we're still not done filming." Another text came in, come over n work out my knots. "I think she's working on editing some of the parts right now."
"Whatever, can't wait for it either way." Haechan geeked out.
u know where to find me
"I didn't know she edits." Chenle commented absentmindedly.
Otw rn, was the only response he gave and got up from the floor. He reached for his hoodie and leather jacket off his closet then grabbed his helmet and keys. "Ah, she said someone else is helping her with the editing part."
"Cool. Who?"
"I don't know. Later guys," Jeno opened the door in a hurry to step out but Chenle's question stopped him.
"Oh come on, if she's your girlfriend you must know who's helping her with the editing. That's boyfriend 101." Chenle remarked.
He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to remember the name, "some person named Bae something."
"Bae Jinyoung?" Chenle shrieked.
"Yeah, I think that's the one." Jeno replied with no thought with one foot out the door. "You know him?"
Chenle scoffed. "Do I know the person on campus with the sexiest thighs? Hell yeah, I do."
"And he always looks like he just basked in the sweet sun with that tan of his." Haechan whistled out loud.
Jeno slowly retreated his foot back from the door. "So you guys do know him?"
"Yeah, super good looking and super nice." Haechan remarked.
"It's quite late, but don't worry, you can trust that guy." Chenle commented. "Good thing she's dating you because I would be worried if she was single," he threw Jeno a cheesy wink.
"Yeah, he's got a certain charm, we should hang out more with him." Haechan commented.
Sungchan stepped into the room with his duffle bag. "'Sup guys, what's happening?" and dropped his huge bag without a thought.
"Bae Jinyoung." Chenle said.
"Great guy." Sungchan commented. "We paired up for an elective and he got me hooked with content creation. What about him?"
"Bae Jinyoung is helping Jeno's girl with her video." Haechan explained.
"She's in good hands then." He clicked his tongue. Jeno's stomach churned at the comments, he glanced down at the phone when his phone flashed a topless picture but now that was the furthest thing from his mind. What if you fell in love with Bae Jinyoung? So what? You were free to see other people if you wanted to and so was he but why did it hurt at the thought of you with someone else? Why does it…Jeno shook his head and stopped himself from that train of thought. You guys were friends and friends can check up and care about each other, right?
"Why do you look sad bro?" They all asked him as a sullen expression shadowed his face.
Jeno left the room without an explanation. He jumped on motorbike and let the vehicle lead him to you; he remembered you mentioning that you were going to be in the media room to work on the video. Listen, he has no idea where the hell the media room but no rooms will be left unopened.
Why was there more than one media room? The university was built like a maze and he thought he had hit the jackpot when he found the Media Room, apparently, the entire building was the Media Room? What the fuck?
Two bodies slouched over the screen together, analysing the same footage over and over again, turned their attention towards the door when it creaked opened to a sweaty Jeno. "Jeno?" You whispered, a bit concerned at Jeno's sudden appearance.
"You ok, dude?" Bae Jinyoung asked.
Despite the fact it was late at night, the Media Room was brightly lit under the fluorescent light, with soft music playing from someone else's computer since there were also other people working in the same area since anyone was welcomed to to use the facility. You and Jinyoung were huddled in front of a computer, side by side, with hands to yourself. It was obvious you guys had been doing this for awhile because some of your notebooks were scattered on the computer desk. For some strange reason, a wave of relief went through Jeno's body, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but the guys made it sound so bad that he had to come and check up on you. Just in case. He cleared his throat and offered a light smile, "yeah, I'm good."
"What are you doing here? It's late." You asked while he pulled up a chair and snugged it in between yours and Jinyoung's and manspreaded his legs.
"Craving a midnight snack," he asked, "you guys want anything? My treat." He took out his phone and scrolled through the food delivery app.
"Sure man," Jinyoung replied, "Jinyoung," he extended his hand to Jeno.
"Jeno," and they did their little brofist hand shake thingy that every men knows about despite meeting for the first time, "yn's boyfriend."
You cocked your head a bit at his odd behaviour but didn't say anything about it. "You could've just ordered from you dorm?"
"My room was invaded," Jeno responded with a simple answer and hung his arm over the back of your chair. He checked out the food after you and Jinyoung added your meals to the cart. "So, what do we have here?"
"In the middle of editing, let me show you." Jinyoung went on a passionate and detailed talk on the editing process and you chimed in with your thoughts here and there, while Jeno followed your discussion at first but later zoned out as he traced the several lines on your palm - from your wrist to your fingertips. His line of sight ended right on Jinyoung's thick and muscular thighs which was visible even under those denim jeans. Damn, he does have sexy thighs.
"Wait yn, what kind of effect did you want for this scene?" Jinyoung asked you.
"Sorry, wait, it's easier for me to show you, I have visual references in my notebook." You took out your notebook one by one, including your small diary, from your bag because the notebook you were looking was deep within the bag. "Here it is!" And you showed the visual references to Jinyoung.
A buzzing sound interrupted the discussion you guys were having, someone was calling Jinyoung. "Sorry, my girlfriend's calling, be right back." Jinyoung excused himself out of the room.
"Are you sure you're comfortable Jeno?" Your soft breath in Jeno's ear tingled him just a bit. "Theres a couch if you want to lie down." Within five minutes of you and Jinyoung working on the video, you noticed how Jeno tuned out of your conversation and played with your hands instead.
"I'm good." He pinched your cheek as he stroked your hands in his, which made you shy on the inside. "Food's almost here, be right back."
"Wait, let me go with you. I need a break either way," you got up from your seat and shoved your notebooks and other things that were on the computer desk in your bag and left the room with Jeno without realising that your small diary didn't make it to your bag, instead, it fell underneath a computer desk.
The worst part of being a woman was the period cramps. Well, aside from the fear of interacting with an unknown male individual and unknowingly triggering its fragile male ego and fearing for your life but that's neither here nor there. It was like a sharp knife stabbed you right in the tummy and twisted the insides till you died a thousand small deaths only for you to relive the experience it all over again. Hence, you and Ryujin laid on your bed as you ate chocolates and watched a classic romcom on the laptop, giggling and squealing at the cliche parts, while the heating pad on your belly eased your mind and body from the period cramp. All the small talks in between the giggling while you watched the movie almost made you miss the knock on your window.
"Did you hear that?" You asked Ryujin because you were sure you heard something knocked but you only heard the stretched of the indoor wind.
"Nope, I don't he-" Knock, knock. Your body shivered when you heard the knock from somewhere again. There it was again. Both you and Ryujin looked at each other but stayed completely still until a familiar voice spoke behind the window.
"Are you awake? It's me, Jeno." A voice spoke out behind the window. You slumped your shoulders and headed to the window to open it. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jeno with his black hoodie and a duffel bag that slung over his shoulders. It had been awhile since you last saw Jeno because you had gotten busy with other assignments and Jeno with practice and his away games over the weekends.
"What are you doing here this late at night?" You leaned closer to him.
Instead of responding with a "hi" or a "hello," Jeno cupped your face in the palm of his hands and kissed you on the lips. His lips were soft, although a bit dry, but it had that addicting taste which you couldn't get enough of. Was that your first kiss with him? You didn't realised how much you actually missed him because you chased his lips even deeper and was lost in his touch.
"Ahem-ahem," Ryujin loudly faked coughed to get both of your attention. She had never seen you like this with a guy.
Your lips separated from each other but Jeno gave you one last peck. "You taste like chocolate." He commented, his eyes drowned in yours.
"Just ate some," you bit your lips from the way he looked at you.
"Ahem-ahem," Ryujin faked coughed again while her arms were crossed as she tapped her foot against the floor. "Jeno."
"Ryujin." He finally acknowledged Ryujin's presence and gave her a slight nod.
"Ever heard of texting?" She rolled her eyes but was severely relieved that it was just Jeno and not some sort of psycho by the window. It was truly one of the disadvantages of staying on the ground floor of the building.
"Wanted to surprise her." He tucked a locked of your hair behind your ear and pinched your cheek which made heat crawled up your neck. "Wanna go for a ride? We can drop by the diner." He asked as he played with your hand.
You pouted. "Sorry Jeno, not tonight. I'm not feeling well."
Jeno's hand instinctively went to your forehead to feel your temperature. "Your body feels normal," he commented after a few seconds but his hand remained on your forehead.
You chuckled lightly, "it's my period cramps," you took his hand that was on your forehead and guided it to your lower abdomen.
"Does it still hurt?" Jeno pressed a bit of pressure on it as he massaged in a circular pattern.
A small moaned came out of you when you felt the pressure of Jeno's fingers on your lower abdomen. "Yeah, but I'll get over it." It sucked but it was routine at this point.
"Let me help you." He continued massaging you through the window.
You held his hand that was massaging you and stopped him, "you don't need to, I have heating pads for it."
"I want to," he pouted at you. It was hard to draw a line with him if he was being this nice. "Please," he begged and kissed your knuckles.
"I have to ask Ryujin first. We have this "No Boys" in the room policy." You subtly glanced at Ryujin.
Ryujin heard the entire thing and sighed. "Just stay but no funny business!" She warned Jeno and gave him a menacing side-eye. "You're lucky I have to finish up my assignment." She went to her study table across from yours, put on her headphones and dived into her laptop.
"Thanks," Jeno smiled at Ryujin's response and jumped in through the window, all while he held your hand. He took off his duffel bag from his shoulders and placed it down on the floor. "Movie night?" He commented when he saw the paused scene on the laptop screen on your bed.
"Yeah, makes me forget about the pain." You moved the laptop and sat on your bed; Jeno mirrored your action and sat beside you but pulled you on his lap and wrapped you in his arms. One hand was on your lower abdomen and massaged it like he did before. "What movie do you want to watch?" You pulled your laptop in your lap and scrolled through the categories.
"Any." He leaned back against your headboard and drew you in between his legs as he massaged you, while you picked a random movie to watch and let it play in the background. His fingers kneaded you right where you needed them and eased up your cramps. "How's this?" He whispered in the shell of your ear.
"Better," you hummed a contended sighed. "When did you get back?" Your back leaned even more to his chest.
"Just now." He continued to massage your lower abdomen with both hands.
You let out a confused sound and looked at him. "Aren't you tired? Heard the place was quite far."
There was a faint smile on his face, "slept on the bus." He kissed the side of your temple and muttered, "besides, I missed you."
With that simple action, your heart skipped a beat at the casualness of it all. Your once bitter feelings for him disappeared when he was around. The both of you stayed like that for awhile, tangled in each other's arms while you guys watched the movie. Although Jeno's massage did help you a bit, the pain was still present and persistent. Like you needed something heavy to squash it down. "Jeno, it still hurts." You mumbled against his chest.
"Hm?" He leaned in closer to hear you better. "Still? Do you want aspirin?"
"No," you shook your head. "I just need something to sit on top of it. I think my textbooks might work." You lifted yourself Jeno but he didn't let you go fetch your heavy textbooks.
"What if I lay on top of you?" He asked. "Think it would work?"
"We can try." So, you switched positions with Jeno in between your legs, his body heat and weight radiated off him and helped eased the period cramps. Meanwhile, you ran your fingers through his hair and threaded it and scratched it as the faint noise played in the background.
When you woke up the next morning, it felt cold to no longer have the warm presence that was on you; the warmness from Jeno and the coziness of your bed lulled you to sleep and you didn't even realised you dozed off in the middle of watching the movie. You stretched out your limbs and yawned, your muscles and body were already feeling much better today compared to yesterday, and went to grab your water bottle on your desk. There was your laptop laid neatly on your desk, you assumed Jeno had switched it off and placed it there before he left, with a sticky note on it. Sorry, had to leave without telling u, didn't want to disturb ur sleep. Call me when u wake up - Jeno.
Your emotions swirled at the simple message he left behind and you bit back a giggle because Ryujin was still asleep in her bed. You were too busy gushing and rereading his note again and again that you didn't realised there was a new poloroid picture of the said note leaver on your board which you did not put up.
There was only one bed. A decent sized queen bed, nevertheless, it was only one bed. "Um - there's only bed." You pointed out to Jeno.
"Yeah." He replied without looking and settled down the bags on the floor, and shrugged of his jacket.
It was easy to avoid relationship questions for one night, but to avoid it over the whole weekend was impossible. Jeno's hockey team arranged a staycation at a villa a couple of hours away from campus to strengthen their bond and unwind for a weekend. Even though it was a team gateaway, it was also an excuse for most of them to bring their girlfriend or whoever they wanted on the trip with them.
"Is there any room with two beds?" You sat your half empty iced peach lemon tea on the side table. "Someone we can switch with?" You asked him.
He chuckled, "I think that would raise suspicions, don't you think?"
"Oh." You clamped your mouth shut when Jeno pointed that out.
"All the rooms in the villa only have a king-sized bed or a queen-sized one." Jeno elaborated.
It was a gorgeous and fun villa by the beach and there was an indoor pool, a hot tub, a gaming room filled with arcade games, a pool table, a tennis table, a gorgeous kitchen with an outdoor kitchen and fire pit outside.
"Woah, you guys can afford this?"
"It's one of Chenle's vacation house." Jeno commented. "He was going to join but then he has last minute rehearsals for his play."
The rest of the day was filled with the whole team exploring the local town and you all came back and played in the gaming room. Everyone was spread out either competing in different games while you teamed up with Jeno for the table tennis doubles match.
"Woah! Let's go!" You exclaimed when Haechan and Chaeryeong missed another one of your shots.
Jeno high-fived you with the paddle, "you're going down Lee," which ignited a whole level of competitive spirit for Haechan and Chaeryeong but it sucked for them because you and Jeno were on fire and easily won the game.
"Rematch!" Haechan yelled out of dissatisfaction.
The heated match had left everyone hungry and tired so by the time the sun had set, all the guys were grilling the meats outside in the cold, while you and the rest of the girls were in the kitchen preparing the drinks and some snacks while gossiping. You had rarely crossed paths with them before you became Jeno's "girlfriend," but they were all super sweet and welcomed you like you were always part of them.
"We never see you at the games." Shuhua frowned as she stirred in the random juice concoction that she made.
You felt heat crawled up to your neck as all the girls' attention were on you. "I don't go to his games."
"Oh yeah, trauma, forgot those existed." Shuhua jokingly hit her head and you laughed.
"You know Jeno's always looking for you." Chaeryeong piped up while she cut up some fruits. "You should join us one day, we'll protect you," and fed you some fruits.
Was he waiting for you to show up to his games?
"By the way, how'd you get this guy to date?" Shuhua leaned in closer and so did all the other girls, interested in what magic you put him under to commit to a relationship.
Just then, Haechan, Serim and Jeno walked in with a tray full of smoked meats, "it's freezing cold out there," Haechan walked in to the kitchen all jumpy and blew warm air to his hands while Jeno and Serim set the tray full of meats down.
"It looks so good!" Chaeryeong's eyes bulged at the sight of meats and nimbled on one.
"Are you guys done grilling the meat?"
"There's still a lot more, wanted to give this to you girls first," Jeno stood next to you and fed you a piece of meat, "how is it?"
The smoky flavoured marinated really well with each other and the more you chewed it, there was a spicy after kick to it. "It's so good," and you gave him a thumbs up and fed you another piece once you were done with the first one.
"What were you guys up to?" Serim stole a piece of fruit.
"She was about to tell us how she got Jeno to date," Shuhua wiggled her eyebrows at you.
"You poisoned him or something?" Haechan jokingly suggested.
You decided to play it cool and nodded your head. "He took a sip of my secret potion, one taste and he was mine." You started off all serious and melancholic as if you were telling them your story, everybody was locked in to your story. "For a spell that can't be broken, one drop should be enough." You dramatically sighed and gazed at Jeno and held his chin with your thumb and index finger, his heart skipped a beat. "Boy, you belong to me."
Everyone including Haechan jumped in, "I got the recipe, and it's called black magic."
Everyone jumped up and down as they sang but Jeno, "take sip of a secret potion! One taste and you'll be mine! For a spell that can't be broken, it'll keep you up all night! Boy, you belong to me! I got the recipe! And it's called black magic!"
The first night ended on a high note with everyone joking and eating the delicious food, and everyone went to bed with a happy tummy. It was a bit awkward when you and Jeno were deciding on your sleeping arrangements since he's only ever helped you with your period cramps. Jeno was stubborn and insisted on sleeping the floor while you took the bed.
"Jeno, I'll sleep on the floor, you take the bed." You said with a concerned tone. "I know you have a tournament next week."
"It's nothing I'm not used to," he shrugged your concerned off and dozed off on the floor with the blanket. Maybe it was better this way because you think you would combust if you ended up sleeping with Jeno. At som point during the night, you got up from the bed to go to the bathroom and accidentally stepped on Jeno in the darkness of the room. "Oomf," Jeno grunted.
"Sorry Jeno," you apologised, not realising how close he was beside your bed. When you came back from the bathroom, you felt bad watching Jeno turn and twist in different directions on the hard floor even though there was a carpet underneath him to cushion the hardness. "Jeno, come to bed with me," you whispered in his ears.
He lazily shook his head with his eyes closed. "It's fine," he muttered.
"No you're not. I don't want you to be in pain because of me." You replied in a worried tone and held his hand. "Please," you begged him.
"Ok," his hushed tone carried loud enough in the darkness of the room. He got up from the floor with his blanket and laid down on the right side of the bed while you slept on the other - respectable distance between the two of you.
"Night Jeno," you turned the other way, so he can't see you ugly sleep your way through the night.
"Night doll," he settled in comfortably.
The morning sun seeped through your eyelids and your eyes fluttered open. You tried to get up but you felt a heavy and warm presence wrapped around you; Jeno's face was nuzzled in the crook of your neck you and his arms and legs were tightly sprawled all over you - bringing you even closer when he felt you moved. "Um, Jeno," you whispered not wanting to disturb him from his slumber but you just wanted to get up from the bed, "are you awake?" You asked Jeno who had his eyes closed.
"Hmmm," he groaned and pulled you in even tighter. Your eyes widened in shyness when you felt his morning wood buldged on your ass. What the heck?!
"Jeno," you whispered one more time in hope that he would wake up, "can you please let go of me?"
"Five more minutes," he mumbled with his eyes closed and inhaled the scent of your skin as you accepted defeat and melted back into a deep slumber.
You weren't sure how long you fell asleep for but it didn't matter because it was definitely one of the best sleep you had gotten in awhile. You chuckled when you found that Jeno was wrapped like a burrito, still asleep, and you realised all those late afternoon replies to your morning messages made sense - he was a deep sleeper. So you went off and washed up, had your first meal of the day, and Shuhua invited you to come along with her and Sungchan, since everyone already left the house to explore more of the local town, but you declined and told her you would meet up with them later with Jeno once he was awake.
You made your way back to yours and Jeno's shared room, expecting for him to still be asleep, only to be greeted with him fresh from the shower with only a towel that hung dangerously low on his waist.
"Morning sleepyhead," he greeted you with a smile as he dried his hair with a small towel.
Your eye shifted here and there before you decided to narrow in on his ear - yeah, that would be a good spot. "Morning sleepyhead," you lightheartedly mocked him. "They all went out to town by the way, told Shuhua and Sungchan that we would meet them there." Yeah, keep it cool girl.
"Ok, I'll get ready and then we can head there together. I think Chenle has an atv somewhere, we can ride that if it's in good condition." Jeno rambled but you were my paying attention to his words anymore. Instead, your eyes wondered the deep lines of his abs and his juicy pecs paired up with his beefy biceps, yum!
Get your head out of the gutter! It was still hard for you to make eye contact with him considering how naked he was. Yes, you've seen him shirtless but he had pants on the last time you saw him like this! Who knows what's underneath that towel. Even through the thick material, you can vaguely make out the shape of his dick. How hung was this guy?
The corner of Jeno's lips tugged upwards as he wiped away a drool on your lips; he couldn't pretend to not notice the intensity of your stares anymore. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." He teased you and you could only feel the embarrassment of getting caught.
He smirked, "you can touch it if you want," and brought your hand over the hard ridges of his abs and didn't let go of it.
You followed his sightline and stopped at where his huge dick laid underneath the towel. "Wouldn't it be weird?"
He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn't let go of it. "It doesn't have to be," and laid your hand on line of his abs and let it rest there - waiting for you to make your choice.
Maybe it was all those repressed desires for Jeno because your fingers moved down by itself and played with the hems of the loose towel, while Jeno stood still with an amused expression on his face. You looked up at him with an uneased expression, only for Jeno to give a nod of encouragement. You gave the towel a little tug and it instantly fell on the floor, revealing his big, pink dick. Your jaw dropped at the mere size of it and its mushroom top while it laid all soft. "Can I touch it?" You whispered.
Jeno brought your hand to his cock and rubbed it up and down. "I'm yours to touch." You wrapped your hand around his warm dick and Jeno winced in pain. "Not too tight."
"Oops, sorry." You were intrigued with the way his cock was slowly hardening under your touch; the pink tip curved upwards and your eyes glinted with list.
"Spit on it." Jeno instructed. You gathered the saliva in your mouth and spat it all out on his warm dick. The slimy and wet sensation left Jeno feeling breathless. The tip of his dick looked appetising with the precum that leaked from the tip so you bent down on your knees and licked it and tasted the saltiness of the liquid on your tongue.
You sucked the tip in an agonising slow pace, savouring every single drop and moan that came out of Jeno. He tugged on your hair and pulled it back, "don't tease," he whined. There was a mischievous smirk as you wanted to see him break apart under your touch so you dragged your tongue down his dick and he could only hold on to your scalp in desperate agony. Your tongue trailed up and down, up and down his dick until you reached the tip and sucked it harsh again. Jeno moaned and inadvertently pushed his dick in deeper. So you loosened your jaw to accommodate his huge cock. Jeno went deeper and deeper till he was halfway down your throat. "Fuck, you're so warm, princess." He grunted and you breathed in to your nose but gagged out his dick when you couldn't take it anymore.
You panted heavily for oxygen while his cock stood tall and proud in front of you - you still needed more of him. "Fuck me." You begged.
He shook his head and grazed his thumb against the faint scar on the side of your forehead. "What if you get hurt?" He was concerned if your brain could handle his big dick.
"I'll pinch your thigh if it gets too much, that good enough for you?" Jeno inserted his cock in your mouth again, inch by inch he went deeper till you felt him in the base of your throat as you breathed in through your nose.
"Ready?" Jeno asked as he held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and you could only respond with a muffled yes. He went slow at first, his pace was gentle and his hold on your scalp was loose; he often glanced at you and checked if you were able to take it well since his pleasure was only second to your safety. Eventually you got tired of snail pace and muffled "faster," and that was when he punctured and abused your swollen throat at a fast pace while he groaned until streams of cum went down your throat and you swallowed every bit of it. There was a dark sense of pride as he watched you swallow his seeds. He helped you stand up and kissed you deep, tasting himself as you interlocked tongues. Your lips were swollen and you were out of breath and your pussy was wet and you continued kissing. "What a good girl for taking my big dick, even swallowed all of my cum." He nipped your lips, "wanted it from the beginning didn't you, baby?" And you could only nod as he sucked the air out of you.
"Let me return the favour."
The memory of the villa burned inside of you for days on end. Jeno was true to his words and kept it casual; he didn't treat you any differently than before and would joke and tease you around like usual.
We're friends, I can call and text him if I want. So, you dialled his number and it rang.
"Hello?" Jeno's faint voice came out breathy.
"Hi Jeno." You greeted him.
"Hi princess, what's up?" You heard a woman's moan on the other end of the line and your heart dropped.
"Nothing." You quickly said. "Just wanted to see if you're free tomorrow to film."
"Yeah, I have some time tomorrow."
"Ok, I'll text you the location. Bye!" You ended the call without even letting a Jeno say goodbye and slummed your body against the bed. God, that call could've been a text, and now you actually have to go and write a small script for tomorrow's filming even though you had nothing! What an idiot! You really thought Jeno would fall for you when he was just a nice person, combined with the fact he probably still feels guilty for pucking you, but sure yeah, he has definitely fallen for you, what an idiot! Stupid! You really thought you were the one to change him like you are not Bob the builder.
The blank ceiling stared back at you in frustration. Now you understood why so many girls walked away crying in pain even though they knew what they signed up for; You already fell for him but you fell even more after you slowly got to know him. It frustrated you that you read more meaning into Jeno's actions even though Jeno had always been a man of his words. He told you up right that it was a simple transactional arrangement. It was dumb of you thinking that Jeno would ever fall for you. He was just a nice person. You cried into your pillows last night.
No, you can't fall for him no matter how kind and sweet he is. Him kissing you was a fluke. That night at the villa was a fluke. You were both two individuals with pent up emotions and urges who didn't hate each other hence the physical attraction at the very least. Don't fall for him, don't fall for him. That was the thing, you already fell for him, hard. Just…don't let him know about it.
The feelings bubbled intensely in your body that you had to let the foams out before it exploded. You reached for the diary in its usual spot but it wasn't there! You emptied every drawer, every bag, your closet, flipped the mattress, and even searched on Ryujin's side just in case it was there. That would be the best scenario. Oh crap! It was nowhere to be found! You cried so long that Ryujin and Yeji caught you crying and were ready to immediately beat Jeno's ass but quickly jumped to the rescue and said that you lost something.
Jeno felt like a pervert, scratched that, he was a pervert. Right now, he was beating his meat while listening to a two second, innocent, voice recording of yours over and over again, while his game character hid in the corner of the screen, ignoring the whines and shouts through the chunky headset from his demonic friends. He had no idea how this became a regular occurrence; ever since meeting you, it became harder and harder for him to, well, get hard unless he thought about you. The post-nut clarity came and he had never felt more disgusted with himself, again. The logical side of his came back and it felt so wrong to disrespect you like this, especially since your relationship with him was far from that.
Whenever he was around you, he couldn't help that it was his natural instinct to constantly hold onto you, that his touches lingered longer, the need to playfully tease you, and maybe it was out of sheer stupidity, he sent risqué pictures to you. No, it wasn't nudes, simply topless pictures of him at the gym or in him in bed, and if that incited you to initiate something with him, well, he wouldn't be opposed to it. But you were good at keeping your boundaries - almost too good - there was a line he wanted to cross.
On some days, he wondered in the back of his mind if you were seeing anyone or sleeping with anyone else; the thought of that alone angered and enraged him in ways he didn't expect it to do so. Fuck whoever was touching and pleasing you. The first time that thought flashed his mind was when he saw a bruise on your neck when he first visited your dorm. There were times when a guy lingered his gaze on you for a second too long or you were friends with another guy, but he couldn't ask you that without him being a hypocrite. So, he did what any good boyfriend did - stared down the guy whenever someone looked at you the way he didn't liked.
Then it happened. The kiss when he came back from his away game. The texts and calls you made to wish him luck made him missed you even more, an empty hollow ache dug in his heart, even though he was tired from the game and the bus ride, his body instinctively led him to you. His heartbeat drummed when you opened the window, and without a thought, he cupped you in for a kiss on the lips - and the craziest thing was that you didn't push him away. You even leaned in for more. Well, that drove him a bit crazy.
Second, the villa. Maybe it was because you had to pretend to be a couple for the entire weekend, you naturally acted more couple-like. He loved getting a whiffed of your natural scent when you laid beside him and the warmth of your body against his when he woke up tangled in you - not wanting to leave the comfort of your presence. That memory replayed in his mind like background noise; if a simple kiss from you ruined him, just imagine what a kiss on his dick from you meant. Jeno tried to forget the touch of your soft lips on his with other people. Not because he wanted to forget about the memory but because his mind and body constantly crawled back to you. It was torturous to be toeing in between the lines. That was why he did what he had to do but tt felt wrong the moment another girl touched him and he instinctively jolted away from their touch. However, they were already naked so what else was he supposed to do beside eat her out so she can leave somewhat satisfied and that was when you made that odd phone call to him.
His eyes naturally wonders to you: the way your eyes light up when you drink your favourite iced peach lemon tea, the way you get shy and flustered when he teases you, the way you ride his motorbike with confidence when some of his friends were too scared to even ride in the back, the way you blend in with his friends and their girlfriends, and the way you're always so comfortable to be around that he feels like he can always be honest with you.
Once again, he notice you avoiding eye contact and being a bit colder than usual, your responses were curt and short - it reminded him of the time you avoided him the day after you got drunk. He hated it. At first, he choked it up to you having a bad day but it happened every time he met you, so he thought you were on your period but it wasn't possible because, according to his calnder, you weren't supposed to have it yet.
"Dude, you look sad." Mark observed Jeno's behaviour as they walked out of the arena.
"Yeah, you weren't hitting all the shots at practice today, what happened?" Serim asked.
"Nothing," he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "my girlfriend seems a bit down nowadays and I don't what to do."
"Well, have you tried asking her?" Mark asked him in an obvious tone.
"I did and she said she was fine."
"Wow, it's clear you've never been in a relationship," Serim scoffed at Jeno, "when a woman says she's fine, she's not fine."
"Or, she could actually be fine," Mark interjected, "depending on the situation."
"Yeah, that's true," Serim nodded.
"What? So is she fine or is she not fine?" Jeno asked, more confused than ever.
"Yes." They both answered.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't hurt to make her feel better and happier." Serim said.
"Like what?" Jeno asked.
"You know like show up with flowers and buy her favourite dinner." Mark brought up, "or take her to a special place."
The three of them went their separate ways once the main campus building was in view. Jeno mulled over his friends' advice and decided to follow through with it; he waited for you outside of your class with your favourite iced peach lemon tea in one hand, and a singular crochet flower in the other - he thought the crochet flower would look cute in your room. His palms grew sweaty but he forgot about it once he saw you walking out of your lecture hall, "hi babe," he beamed at you with his natural smile.
You pressed a firm line and gave him a slight smile, "hey, what are you doing here? We don't have filming today," you peeked down and noticed the items in his hands.
"Yeah, I know," a random guy dapped Jeno up and he shakily handed you the drink and the crochet flower.
"Thanks," you were hesitant but accepted it anyways and took a sip of your favourite drink while you put away the cute flower in your bag.
"Are you free right now?" Jeno quietly asked.
Your eyes wavered side to side, "uhm, I have assignments that needs to be done," and took another sip from your drink.
There it was again, the unfamiliar cold behaviour that was uncharacteristic of you. "Ah, ok," Jeno awkwardly shuffled his feet, he did not think it through.
"Is everything ok?" There was a slight concerned in your voice.
"Yeah, everything's fine, I just needed your help with something."
You took another sipped and bit your lips, "what do you need help with?"
"Come with me."
"What are we doing here?" You slipped in backstage of the auditorium and crouched down beside Jeno who was peeking out of the giant curtains.
"We have to keep our voices down," he gently shushed you.
"Why are we here? There's no one," you whispered.
"Sometimes when I know Haechan is rehearsing alone, I like to mess with him when I'm bored." Right on cue, Haechan showed up on stage from the other side and warmed up his voice. It was an empty auditorium with only a singular flash of light that shone on Haechan. Jeno waited until Haechan sang a song and was in his world and that was when he took out a small metronome from his bag. He set the metronome equipment down on stage and turned it on the setting to a beat behind Haechan's singing so it would drive him crazy with the small, clicking sound.
You watched the way Haechan fell into the rhythm of his own singing, completely in sync with himself until he stopped singing and looked around the place, wondering if he had heard something. There was nothing so he continued on but there was the sound again, completely threw him off. This happened a couple of times until he got agitated and yelled, "stop messing with me!" Whether it was a ghost or a person, he was so done with them because it only happened when he was alone. "I will find you."
"He's coming, run," he snagged your hand and ran before Haechan could catch either of you and tried so hard to muffle in your laughs as to not be caught. You stopped running now that you were safe from Haechan's wrath, a bit out of breath from the spontaneous sprint, "what was that?!" You laughed at Jeno's harmless prank on Haechan.
Jeno's eyes twinkled seeing you smile, "he's going to kill me if he ever finds out one day but it's Haechan so I can take him down."
"I'm not here if he ever kills you," you laughed while clutching onto your stomach. It took you a couple more seconds but the laughter finally died down. "Well, um, thanks for letting me on this but I have to go now."
Jeno's eyes widened as he interrupted you. "Let me take you somewhere!"
"I don't know Jeno," you looked down, "I-"
"Please," he carefully linked his pinky with yours, "it won't take long."
Why is it that all men ever do is lie because you wouldn't exactly define going to a park outside of campus as exactly short. But you can't say you hated it, in fact, you loved it because you both were paddling on a duck-shaped boat over the tranquil water when Jeno stopped at where all the ducks and swans gathered. He took out a huge bag of ziplock from his bag and sprinkled seeds at the ducks and swans nearby.
"Do you always carry a bag full of seeds?" Your eyes glinted with amusement as you watched all the little cute animals gathered around the seeds, pecking for more.
"Not always but often enough," he handed you the ziplock bag and it was your turn to sprinkle it around.
"So cute, Jeno look, it's coming to me," you drizzled a generous amount of seeds to them and Jeno did the same - you both watched in complete silence in the stillness of tranquility. "Why'd you bring me here?" A thought ran through your head.
"Honestly?" Jeno asked as he fed more seeds to them.
"Yeah, honestly." You repeated.
"You seem a bit down nowadays, and I don't want to overstep your boundaries, especially if it's personal and I'm probably not your go-to person. But I just wanted to share what I do when I feel down," he paused, "in hopes of helping you feel better, whatever it is you're going through, even if it's just a litttle bit."
"Hmm cool, is this where you bring other girls often?" You chuckled lightly to disguise the bitterness and sharpness of your tone.
Jeno shook his head, "it's my first time showing anyone that I come here," his soft tone swayed your heart. Jeno didn't know but the hardened wax you created around him melted once again under his sincere words.
Jeno was ultra-focused as he scored another goal and the whole crowd cheered for him but it always sounded bittersweet in his ears, especially since you were never around for his games. He scanned the crowd once more, in a silly little hope that he would you in his jersey, like all of his other teammates did with their girlfriends. There was a small inkling part of him that wished you would come to his games and watch you cheer from the stands. But he knew where you came from, he would never even step foot into the arena if it happened to him, and a small part of the guilt resided in him. The tensions were high, only one score left to determine the winner. Jeno clenched his jaw and gripped his stick, the puck flew across the rink from stick to stick. A quick glanced at his surroundings and he already knew which teammate to pass the puck to, in a swift move, Jeno slid the puck to Serim and Jeno instantly skated to the other side. He watched as his other teammates passed the pucked among themselves until it reached Jeno again -they were so close to goal. Jeno was about to strike his stick against the puck when he saw a familiar figure with his jersey and his number on it. Could it be…? It was you! You were cheering in the stand with Chenle and your other friends. The other team took this split second of hesitation to body check him and stole the puck, and they took the win.
The match ended and the crowd slowly dispersed from the arena. You went down to where the team was gathered and greeted Jeno, "sorry you lost, it's like I'm bad luck." You checked him for any injuries and he let's you; Jeno liked it when your attention was on him and loved the feel of your soft fingers on him even more and your concerned tone.
"You're not bad luck, I need to play better." He kissed your forehead.
It was the final scene for the video; Jeno drowning in the pool before he surfaces up, signifying that his paranoia was what killed him. Jeno's acting was more than convincincing, drowning while desperately gasping for air before it killed him. His stomach faced down and he floated in the pool.
One final zoom in on Jeno's body and you were done, "ok Jeno, done!" You reviewed the new footage that you had just shot, satisfied that your vision was coming together. You said once more only to met with the stillness of the chlorine air. "Jeno. I'm done. You can come up now." He wasn't moving at all, face down on the pool. At first, you lightly brushed it off thinking he was just joking with you but you cautiously stepped closer to the pool. "Jeno?" No response. "Ha.ha.ha. Very funny, you got me, you can come up now. The swim team will be here soon." No response. What if he pulled a cramped in between those takes and he was actually drowning?
Nevertheless, you sat the camera down on the bench and stood closer to the edge of the deep end of the pool. "Jeno?" You were panicking now, the worst case possible scenario ran through your head and you had to get him out of there. The only problem was that you can't swim if the pool is too deep so you looked around for those floating device but you didn't see any. So you leaned down flat on the ground and tried to grab ahold of his hand. So close yet so far. "Jeno!" You huffed, your fingertips were close to his, and in the blink of an eye, there was a commotion in the water since Jeno grabbed your hand and dragged you into the pool with him. "Ah!" You yelped as you fell into the pool, creating a huge splash.
"Got you!" Jeno was floating in the pool normally, laughing at his successful prank on you.
You were struggling to keep afloat, your neck barely came out of the surface. Jeno caught on to that and held your waist with one hand as he stayed afloat, while you anchored yourself on him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck - afraid you would drown the second you let go.
He rested one hand on your back, keeping you secure with his hold. "So you can't swim?" His eyes were full of mischief.
Now that you caught your breath and was able to think more clearly, "you jerk!" You let go of one hand around his neck and hit him hard on the chest that it thudded. "You scared me! Why would you do that? I can swim but not when it's this deep!"
"So you can't swim." He mocked with a cocky tone. "What if I," he paused, "just let go." You dipped in the water just the slightest but Jeno caught you in his arms as his laugh echoed in the pool arena.
You gasped and cursed at him as he did that whilst holding even tighter onto him. "You jerk! I'm going to kill you when we're on land," you threatened him again. "Don't let me go." You pleaded with desperate eyes.
"I won't let you go." He spoke in a hushed voice. Jeno's eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes, and yours mirrored his actions. The waves of the pool pulled you in even closer and without even thinking, your lips were pressed against each other. His lips was hot and tasted of chlorine and saliva and he kept on devouring you, pushing you right up the pool tiles. His hardness created a delicious friction and you involuntarily grinded on him, feeling the vibrations as he moaned. He grabbed your ass, pulled you even closer to him even though the gap was nonexistent between the two of you and you whined on his lips when you felt all of him. His lips chased yours when you separated from him because the sound of faint footsteps approaching the pool arena grew closer. Only the loud silence and heavy breaths filled up the arena, and you grew shy as you drowned in Jeno's eyes.
You spoke out first, "uhm, we should go. The swim team, they're here."
"Ye-yeah," he helped you out of the pull. It was an awkward mess of coming out of the pool and hurrying to leave before the swim team started their practice.
There was so much pressure you wanted to relieve the second you came back to your dorm, however Ryujin, out of all the other days, decided to skip class and chill in the room for the entire day. So the second Ryujin left for the evening, you took out your vibrator and went to town with it; there was an instant relief the second it touched your clothed pussy. You increased the intensity by one level and lulled into a daydream about Jeno, the pool, the villa, and god, imagining his fingers on you again. Once again, you upped the intensity by another level and the familiar coil in your lower belly forming when that moment was interrupted because there was a knock on your window. Shit. You turned off the vibrator and shoved it under your pillow and pulled the curtains to see Jeno with a takeout package and your favourite drink, iced peach lemon tea.
"Hi." Jeno greeted you through the window. "I've got food and your iced peach lemon tea," and came in through the window.
"Oh, uhm, thanks Jeno," you hoped Jeno doesn't noticed your flustered face, and fuck, you were itching for a release. "What are you doing here?"
"Movie night?" He brightly suggested and you both ignored the elephant in the room - the incident in the pool. The pool incident felt different than the time in the villa because it seemed like it was a tit for tat type of thing where you were curious about his dick and he was returning the favour. But the pool was impulsive, hot, and came out of nowhere.
You set up a towel on your bed so you both could eat while watching a movie in bed. Jeno settled himself against the headboard and removed the pillow to make himself even more comfortable when he saw the object underneath it.
Shit.
"Oh, baby, is this what you were doing?" You didn't say anything and felt all shy that Jeno caught you. "You must've hated that I ruined it. Did you come?" He was mocking you with a pout on his face.
"No." You said in a meek voice.
"Awww baby, what are you so shy for?" He pulled you in his lap, leaned in closer and pressed kisses against your jaw, you tilted your neck to the side to let him have more access and let out a soft moaned when he sucked a particular sensitive on your neck. "Fuck." He groaned as he took in the scent of your sweet self, "Because I was a fucking douche for interrupting your time," he sucked in that same sweet again to hear your whine, "let me help you."
Anyone could see that Jeno was a strong and muscular person, but the suddenness in which he manhandled you to sit you on his lap, in front of the mirror across from the bed, made your pussy gush with wetness. Jeno anchored your wait with one hand and spread your thighs opened. You were wearing Jeno's jersey with only a white lace panties underneath it. He moaned at the sight of your damp arousal that seeped through the clothing material. "Fuck," he hissed and kissed you hard and sucked the bottom of your lip before letting it go. "Your poor fucking pussy." He pouted.
"All wet and neglected because of me, right?" He lazily rubbed circles over your cloth clit but that pressure alone was enough to let out a desperate whined, relieved there was at least some sort of pressure. "Tell me, what were you thinking about?"
"You," you shyly confessed.
"You probably thought about me like the I way I was thinking about you in the shower jerking off to you," he rambled on. "Open your mouth," he spat in your mouth and watched the translucent liquid dripped, "take it like a good girl." He forced you to swallow and seeing him like this made your pussy twitched.
He stared at you in the mirror with a lustful gaze, "you're going to watch me watch you please yourself." He nipped your jawline and pressed the vibrator even harder against your clit that made your hips bucked up. "Aww aren't you desperate?" He snaked his hand under your, his, jersey and tweaked your nipple, bringing you pleasure from different sensation.
You grinded against the vibrator, wanting Jeno to increase the intensity so you could come. "Please, want to come," you begged him.
"Aww really?" He said in a condescending and pretended to increase the intensity only to lower it and you cried in disappointment. He did that a couple of times, enjoying watching the way you suffered under his touch. "I just started having fun," he cockily laughed in your ear. "Let me see the damage," and pulled off the oversize jersey, making you shy when you saw yourself topless in the mirror with your boobs hanging out, and your white lace panties soaking wet. "Prettiest boobs I've ever seen," he cupped them in his hand as if to prove a point.
You melted in his body, feeling exposed and shy at your naked self while he was still fully clothed. "You're so cute when you're so fucking shy." He bit your earlobe and trailed his hand down your side and took off your underwear. "There she is," he spreads your pussy with his other hand as the vibrator stimulates you on low. "So wet, all for me?" He teased and slowly inserted his ring and middle finger, instantly reaching deep into places you've never reached before. He heightened the sensation even more by increasing the intensity of the vibrator and you muffled your moans in the crook of his neck, taking in his natural scent, all while he made you come.
You stayed like this for awhile and he licked the juices of his fingers, "you did so well baby, thank you, thank you," and he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.
You know how people say a crush is just a lack of information? Well, you knew more about Jeno than you needed, and boy were you in trouble. If you were down bad for him before you got to know him when he was a mere stranger, now was even worse after getting to know him. The lines between what was real and what was fake blurred as you spent more time with each other. It felt like he was truly in a relationship with you, no facade, no pretending, just you.Each moment spent together meant falling deeper and deeper for Jeno. You knew he preferred staying in and in-door dates but he also knew you enjoyed going to new places so he would always go with you. From pottery dates to, to gym dates, to him teasing you to go to a cat cafe when he absolutely knew that you were scared of cats to the hours tangled in bed. There was also the hour-long calls whenever he was at an away game, and the late night drives in between your busy schedules. Even your friends warmed up to him and allowed his presence for your group karaoke night.
It was hour two of your karaoke session and Jeno still had not grabbed the microphone the entire night, he instead drowned himself with a fizzy drink everytime someone offered it to him. "Let's sing together," you pulled his hand since you knew he was shy when it came to these things but he stubbornly shook his head.
"I can't sing." He gave a pathetic excuse and planted his butt to the faux leather booth.
"None of us can," just then, Wonjin and Taerae harmonised a melodious high note to Taeyeon's I. "Well, most of us."
"Let me be your fan," and he pushed you to the stage while he snacked on some of the nachos. He would rather watch you sing and have fun with your friends than ever go on stage.
"Boo," you gave a thumbs down and playfully stuck out your tongue, "you're no fun."
And gosh, the number of times he's tried to drag you to the locker room shower with him when it was empty after his games or a workout session.
You scrolled on your phone as he changed to a fresh pair of shirt and sweats from his locker. Today he was unsuccessful in getting you in the shower with him because you had just washed your hair and you weren't about to do it all over again. You thought you were safe from the water demon but he playfully splashed some on you before you left the bathroom. So you brewed up a petty revenge plan to get back at him for splashing you with the tiniest drop of water. "Have you every thought what it would be like to be athletic?" You turned to him.
"Hmm?" He tilted his head to the side now that he was dressed in fresh clothes. "I am athletic," he said without a thought.
"No, I mean athletic athletic," you emphasised.
"I am athletic," he poked his tongue against his cheek and sat down on the bench, dragging you on his lap. "I play ice hockey competitively, cycle on weekends, lift weights five times a week, and hike up mountains."
You faced him as you settled yourself comfortably on his lap. "Sure, I guess," you cocked your eyebrows in doubt. "But don't you wish could do more?"
Jeno smirked, seeing right through your facade but decided to play along. "I guess I'm not athletic enough." He gripped your hips and you humped him dry. He snaked his hand down your pussy, "already wet, huh?" You wanted to wipe off the cocky smirk off his face but his fingers felt too good playing with your pussy and pinching your clit. He took off your pants and panties and dropped it on the dirty floor, whereas he only pulled down his sweats down his thigh and squished your boobs like a stresss ball, "ride me," he slapped your ass and shoved your perfect tits in his mouth, sucking and biting them.
You sinked into his tip and was already groaning from feeling of fullness and he wasn't even all the way in. It took a bit of trial and error but you had learnt to take it in slow first and let his cock just sink in you. Inch by inch he was filling you up with is huge cock and you whined when he was only half way inside of you.
Jeno alternated between soft licks and harsh sucks on your nipple, tonguing and moaning over your delicious boobs and leaving bites all over it. He let out a delicious groaned when he felt that he was fully in you and leaned even further back against the metal locker. You felt him twitch inside of you and rocked your hips against his; alternating between swirling your hips in a pattern and bouncing on his hard dick up and down, using his broad shoulders as an anchor. He licked all the to your neck and you moaned when he found and sucked on your sensitive spot, making to leave bruises in the process. He slapped your ass, "faster baby," unsatisfied with your slow pace so like the good girl you were, you bounced even faster on his dick, with your breast jiggling deliciously right in front of his face, until your thighs were burning from the intense pace. Pleasure coiled in your stomach, almost reaching that satisfying feeling but not quite there yet, and grinded on him instead.
Jeno exchanged starved kisses with you and sucked your tongue into his. "Jenoneno, I'm tired," you whined as you broke of the kiss and gave him your best puppy-like eyes, silently begging him to take over like he usually does.
He laughed and spanked your ass again, "what a brat silly girl, you're going to make yourself come on me," he mocked a condescending pout.
You cried on Jeno's shoulder, "please, I'm so tired, want to come," lazily grinding on him.
"Awww baby, you want to come?" His sweet voice dripped with threat, "what to do? I'm not fucking athletic like you said so fucking bounce if you want to come," he rasped in a low voice which made you even wetter.
Jeno watched you struggle as he loosely held onto your hips but not aiding it in any shape or form; you whined at the pain and fullness of his cock, regretting ragebaiting him, but did as he told despite the achiness of your burning thigh. "Please Jeno," your cries echoed in the empty locker room, "want to come, please, please, please," you begged and begged, desperate for release, but you were only met with a patronising attitude of the said man.
"Hmm," he hummed as if his dick wasn't also twitching and reaching a point of orgasm, "say you're sorry and do it well," and squeezed your ass.
You were desperate for anything at this point, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you're strong and athletic, please, please, Jeno, I need you," you whined in one go.
Somewhat satisfied with your apology, Jeno places a firm hand on your hips, and thursted you till you were seeing stars and only his name slipped out of your lips. He peppered sweet kisses all over your face, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, before pressing your lips into a melt-worthy kiss. "Thank you pretty girl, you did so well," and sprinkled more compliments and kisses like you were the only thing that mattered.
There was a drop in the pit of your stomach to the days leading to your "breakup." The kisses were sweeter and you never wanted to untangled yourself from him, and he never did. There was a small hope in the corner of your heart that believed that maybe Jeno had fallen for you and what you had with each other was beyond than what meets the eyes. Especially the way he embraced you in your warm bed, whispered sweet nothings in your ear, and moaned out delectable sounds that you would no longer witness. The day of the breakup approached, money was transferred to your account, and until the last second till you bid goodbye to your relationship, you had hoped Jeno had a change of heart. About you. About anything. Of course he left with easy footsteps, he always knew what he wanted. The least embarrassing thing you did for yourself was that you kept your bittersweet dignity even though so many questions and words ran through the back of your mind, what about us?
Jeno stared at the blank ceiling, his fingers tapped on his chest, slow and restrained, but they were itching to reach his phone. Another sleepless night after a battle of tossing and turning where his thoughts were his only companion. No, he cannot use his phone. If he used his phone, the first thing he wanted to do was text, no, call you, and hear your sweet voice for hours on end. There was an unfamiliar hollow ache that pained his chest ever since you two went your separate ways. It was all he ever asked for, a simple breakup; you both split the money, and he kept his motorbike safe from Chenle's reckless hands. There was even a cheery smile on your face when you parted ways. So why does it fucking hurt? At this point he didn't even fucking care if he lost the bet, lost his motorbike, if it meant that he wouldn't be losing you.
Why was it that every fibre in his cell refused to move away from you when you went your separate ways? For the first time in his life, his mind and his body were two separate entities: his mind was relieved that it was over while his body screamed at him to not let you go. He had walked away from plenty of girls with a light heart whenever they crossed a line but his footsteps were heavy when you both parted, he looked back secretly hoping you would do the same. However, you did exactly what he wanted, or what he thought he wanted, and made a clean exit without looking back at him - he walked with heavy footsteps that day.
His phone notification lit up with every ping! sound but he ignored them all because it wasn't the notification sound he had for you. The news spread like wildfire that the Lee Jeno was newly single again, he had constantly been receiving dms and personal messages from various people whom he had never even met. Prior to meeting you, maybe he would've been opened to entertaining one or two of them but now he's so fucking repulsed by the thought of being with anyone other than you. True to your words, the story you gave was that you broke it off with him because you weren't right for each other - a simple reason without tarnishing either one's reputation. Fuck that. Not right for each other? Did all those long calls and late night drive meant nothing to you? Were you not right for each other when…
Jeno got up from his bed and went downstairs for a midnight refresher, something to get his mind off you. His friends tried to cheer him up by setting him up on a blind date or take him clubbing like they used to when his routine only consisted of: class, practice, game, and dorm. But he refused all of their advances and preferred to sulked in the comfort of his room. A classic tale of someone going through a breakup. Instead, he was greeted with the delightful sight of Sungchan and Shuhua acting all lovey dovey with each other, and baking cookies in the middle of the night, making the air smell of comfort and warm vanilla. Yuck! He was sick. Ugh. It annoyed him seeing Sungchan with his girlfriend nowadays. Always on late night calls giggling and whispering about his day, and the exaggerated cries when he talks about his injuries, while Jeno's trying to go to sleep; no one needs to hear that, Sungchan!
"Hey, can't sleep?" Sungchan greeted Jeno as he opened the fridge door.
"Yeah," Jeno mumbled and scanned around the fridge until he spotted his zero calorie soda can in the fridge.
"Hey Jeno, want some cookies? We just baked a fresh batch." Shuahua boxed away the fresh cookies in an open container as the other batch bake in the oven for the time being.
"Sure, thanks." Jeno grabbed a cookie from the container and bit into it - it was delicious. But he knew that if you were the one to taste it, you would say something along the lines of, the chocolate chips melted perfectly into the buttery dough and it was the best kind of cookie because it was a crispy chocolate cookie and not a chewy one. Sungchan and Shuhua exchanged concerned looks as they watched a wistful smile formed on Jeno's face while he puts the cookie down. "It's good," he muttered.
"Have some more," Shuhua pushed the container across the kitchen counter.
"No, thanks." Jeno shook his head and raised his can, "just this for me." He was about to go back to his bed and mull over you and his thoughts until morning comes until Sungchan muttered something to Shuhua under his breath.
"We should set him up on a date like yn," Sungchan mumbled to Shuhua, "like kidnap or trick him into going."
"Did you just say yn's going on a date?" Jeno asked, checking to see if he heard it correctly the first time.
Sungchan's eyes popped wide opened, "n-no, I said what's today's date?" Sungchan covered up with a nervous laugh.
"Ok," Jeno eyed Sungchan suspiciously and left the kitchen but hid behind a wall near a kitchen.
"Oof," Sungchan wiped away an invisible sweat, "babe, imagine if he found out yn is going on a date." Sungchan said it loud and clear to Shuhua.
"So she is going on a date," Jeno appeared in the kitchen with a clenched jaw.
"Idiot! You weren't supposed to say anything," she whispered-scolded Sungchan and slapped him on his arm.
"Shit," Sungchan panicked.
"What date?" Jeno asked warily.
"I heard this guy in her music club or something asked her out." Sungchan replied.
"Oh," Jeno processed the information given to him, "with whom? Where? When?"
"You gotta ask the birdie here," Sungchan pointed his thumbs towards Shuhua.
"So, who's the guy?" Jeno asked her.
"Sorry Jeno," Shuhua shrugged and opened the oven because the cookies were done baking, "girl code."
"Ouch," Shuhua dropped the pan on the kitchen since she accidentally touched the hot metal pan without mitten gloves.
"Aw baby," Sungchan cooed and kissed Shuhua's fingertips, lost in each other and had forgotten about Jeno's presence.
As much as Sungchan annoyed him by flaunting his relationship, Sungchan made Jeno realised that he wanted a relationship with you; all the romance, the dates, the cuddling in bed, arguing but always coming back to each other at the end of the day. It made him puked imagining a life without you.
The only problem was that Jeno didn't know how to do relationships: the romance, the dating. He just did what came natural to him and all he knew was that he hated the thought of of another guy being intimate and getting to know you like he did.
Jeno scoffed when he spotted you and the other guy at 90's Love. It's our spot. Fine, if Shuhua didn't want to give him the details of your date, fine by him. Jokes on her because he knew your entire schedule by heart and waited till you were done with your class for the day and discreetly followed you with Mark's car that he had borrowed for the day.
He hid in the car and watched as you took the booth by the window. The guy you were with was tall and some might even say good looking but who knows. Everything seemed normal at first, you were chatting with the other guy, maybe a bit too happily, but it all changed for Jeno when he saw the guy laughed a bit too hard and wiped your mouth with a napkin and he dashed right in the diner.
"Thank you Zhang Hao," you took the napkin from him, a bit uncomfortable from the sudden touch.
"You're welcome yn." He flashed a gentle smile, "how do you like your food?"
"It's great," you reciprocated the same energy but being here on a date with another guy just felt wrong. It was your to-go spot with Jeno: whenever you were bored, needed a pick me up, or was just craving their delicious strawberry milkshake.
"Thank you for going on this date with me," he blushed shyly, "if I'm being honest, I wasn't sure if you were going to say yes considering it hasn't been that long since your breakup."
You sipped your strawberry milkshake, "you're surprised? I'm surprised you're even sitting down with me because you're always so busy with the club, music, and the student council." You strayed the topic away from Jeno, "like how do you do it all?"
"Do I seem like a loser?" He bit his lips while he gave you a shy smile.
"No, it's cute," you teased him. This was the first time that you had talked to Zhang Hao outside of the music club, you guys would usually say hi to each other or make small talk before practice began but that was it, so it came a bit of a surprise when he asked you out and you thought it would be nice to move on from Jeno after all these. Zhang Hao was a sweetheart, comfortable, and maybe in another universe you would've fallen for him, unfortunately, no butterflies swirled around your stomach when you're with him - just indifference.
Out of nowhere, Jeno entered the diner, slid into your booth, sat beside you, and sipped on your strawberry milkshake like you were still a couple.
"Hi," you glanced at Zhang Hao and Jeno.
"Hey, oh! You got my favourite loaded fries." He made himself comfortable and ate a couple of fries.
"Jeno, um, we're kind of in the middle of a date," you cleared your throat and looked nervously at Zhang Hao, unsure of what was going on.
"How rude of me," he wiped his oily hand on the napkin and extended his hand for a handshake, "Jeno, boyfriend."
Zhang Hao accepted his handshake with confusion, "Zhang Hao," wondering if he heard Jeno say boyfriend or boy friend.
"Boy," you paused for emphasis, "friend."
"Boyfriend," he stated again and took a bite out of your burger. "Ooh, you got my burger order, this is the good stuff."
Zhang Hao stared with his jaw dropped and looked hesitantly between you and Jeno, too scared and confused to say anything. So you stepped up, "can you excuse me for one second Zhang Hao? I just need to talk to Jeno for a bit." and went outside the diner with Jeno who flashed a smug smile at Zhang Hao.
You pulled Jeno to a secluded corner to have a private conversation and crossed your arms, "what's going on Jeno? I've never seen you act like this."
Jeno contemplated for awhile about how he wanted to say what he wanted to say but decided on the straight truth, "yn, I didn't realised this until after our whole deal was done, but I like you and when I heard you were going on a date with another guy that wasn't me, it pissed me off because I want to be that guy. I want to be your," Jeno gazed at you with sincere eyes, "boyfriend," he breathed out the last word.
Your shoulders dropped and your head titled with furrowed eyebrows. "Jeno, listen, I like you too," you started off and there was a gleam of hope in his eyes, "and I enjoyed our time together regardless of the bet," his lips tugged upwards, "but I don't think you like me."
His lips frowned and his heart dropped. "Are you telling me how to feel about you?" A bit confused with your response.
"No, well yeah, well - ok, let me ask you this, sex out of the way, have you ever dated anyone seriously? or spent time with any of the girls you used to hook up with?" You uncrossed your arms and explained.
"No." He admitted.
"Why?"
"I just never did," he shrugged his shoulders, "but I want to be in a relationship with you, you're different from other girls."
Your lips pressed into a thin line, "I'm exactly like other girls. The only difference between me and them is that you actually took the time to get to know me - well, forcibly, but I stand by my point."
"Ok?" He was still confused.
"All I'm saying is that all of this was a coincidence. If it was someone else who ordered the iced peach lemon tea or whatever drink or if you actually got to know the person you fooled around with, you would be confessing to her and not me." There was a pregnant pause. "I just happened to be the girl in this position," you muttered the last sentence.
He shook his head. "So?" He said almost a bit too blunt for your taste. "It doesn't matter because, at the end of the day, you're the one that I got to know."
Your voice cracked with a shallow breath, "Fine then, maybe there's still this unconscious guilt inside of you from hitting me." You tried reasoning with Jeno but you knew deep down that it was for you. It wasn't my possible for Jeno to fall in love with you because he doesn't fall for people and you were an anamoly. Even if was spelling it out for you. Because if you did end up dating him, the crack in your heart will never heal at the inevitability of him, eventually, moving to the next person. This was the only way to protect you from a disastrous heartache. "I forgive you Jeno and I know it was an accident. Water under the bridge. I'm all healed now and you even took me out to lunch the first time we talked to each other because you felt bad. You don't owe me anything anymore nor do I owe you anything." You stood firm on your ground, "take care Jeno," you bid goodbye before you entered the diner to resume your date with Zhang Hao.
Jeno stayed silent even after you left, contemplating and processing your words. The logical part of him agreed with you that it was just the time spent together that made him fall in love with you, but the thing that bothered him the most? Your unwavering reaction to his confession. Maybe you truly didn't see him beyond a friend and a fuck, and maybe, he never truly stood a chance to be with you. He should've known it wasn't going to be easy because all these years asking the universe for a clean goodbye, you served it to him on a silver platter.
It was the Premiere Day showcasing all the films in the auditorium. Professor Sooyoung had booked out the auditorium so all your classmates can enjoy the fruits of your labour together and even opened it up to the public so any student can join in and watch as well. You sat in the middle row beside your friend with the charm bracelet, excited to watch everyone's film.
"Did you invite anyone else?" She asked.
"Yeah I did, they couldn't make though because they all have class but it's ok since we already watched it together. How about you?" You scanned around the room looking for a particular individual but there were no signs of him. Despite the last interaction with Jeno, you had invited him to the Premiere Day since it was his film too. He deserved it. But he never responded to your text so you weren't sure if he was going to be here or not.
"Same, they have lab today." She replied, "is Jeno coming?" She asked.
You slummed your shoulders with disappointment, "I'm not sure," pretending like it hasn't affected you.
The winner for the local competition was announced a couple of days ago, unfortunately, you didn't win but your Professor liked it, so only that mattered. Soon after, the chatter died down, the lights dimmed out, and screen light flashed up - Everyone's eyes were focused on the moving screen in front of them.
In between the films showcasing, Jeno slipped into the auditorium and sat in the back seat with his hoodie up and a cap that covered the top half of his face. Even in the vast darkness of the auditorium, he easily recognized the back of your head, his eyes naturally gravitates towards you. The whole place was quiet except for the sounds that came from the screen, and the people beside him who were munching on their food too loudly. For the first time since he entered the auditorium, he turned his head to the left side, instead of staring at you, to politely asked them to quiet down only to met with a familiar face. "Haechan?" Jeno whispered, "what are you doing here?"
"Watching the films, duh," he obnoxiously shoved in another pack of chips in his mouth.
"Don't you have class right now?" Jeno asked himz
"We all ditched," Sungchan whispered.
"Sungchan?" Jeno was taken back to see another friend of his in the auditorium.
"When is yours going to show?" Serim asked.
"Yeah dude, I'm dying to watch it," Mark added in a bit too loud.
"Just shhh," he placed his index over his lips with a stern face but they ignored him and kept on whispering to each other in the back row.
Your heart drummed when the next film opens to a sound you've heard a million times while editing to the point you got so sick of it - you wanted to be free from the shackles you had created. It was torturous to edit something you once loved so much and all the memories attached with it, only for it to be bittersweet at the end.
The film opened with Jeno taking off his hockey gear in the locker room, you noticed everyone's eyes were locked in as they leaned forward in their seats as Jeno pulledoff his shirt, revealing his toned abs, and you swear you heard someone audibly gulped at the sight of Jeno topless. Yes! Baited!
"Fuck, you look hot man," Haechan whispered-hollered at Jeno and all the guys joined in.
"Just shut up and watch," Jeno rolled his eyes, feeling embarrassed to watch himself like this in front of an audience.
"Ooh, Mr.Actor thinks he's a hotshot," Sungchan mocked.
All the sweet memories flooded in Jeno's mind as he watched the film to the very end. Even though you had shared the final version with him before you submitted it, he didn't have the heart to watch it, and when you texted him about today, he never planned on showing up but his body betrayed his intention. All those hours spent on filming, editing, and complaining was worth it because chills went through his body when his character died in the pool. That day in the pool changed everything.
"Brooo, you can act," Mark patted Jeno on the back even though he was a couple of seats away.
"Goosebumps. Literal goosebumps," Serim commented, "I'm not sleeping by myself tonight.
While that was happening, in the middle aisle where you were sitting with your friend, you were feeling shy from all the compliments that your friend threw at you. "That was incredible!" She gushed over your video, "the hook scene with Jeno and I don't even like him like that! If I were you, I would've kept that to myself." She joked.
"Sharing is caring," you joked back. Once more, you glanced around the auditorium now that the lights slowly came back to life, looking for the main character of your video. Your eyes fixated on the back row, a bit surprised to see them, where you spotted Haechan, Sungchan, Serim, and Mark eating packs of snacks. Then, your eyes caught onto the silhouette with the hoodie and the cap, his face was covered but you had a feeling it was-
"Hold on!" A voice boomed from the stage and a figure emerged from the shadows of the stage with a microphone. You turned your attention back to the stage as the chatter died down once again. "That was an interesting film." Keeho commanded the stage and stared directly at you. Only for you to glanced at your friend, giving each other a, "what's going on look?" considering you've never even had a conversation with Keeho.
"Or was it a real-life-soon-to-happen documentary?" He dramatically continued on stage and people murmured in confusion at his accusation. Your friend held your hand as you sat up straighter and your eyebrows furrowed into confusion - an anxious, inkling feeling pricked through your bones. "This film was not fictional. It was her fantasy." He cackled evilly, "that's going to become her reality."
Keeho pressed a small remote in his pocket which changed the screen from your film to a familiar notebook that you had lost awhile ago, your Jeno Journal. Oh no! You stayed frozen as sweats formed around your temples and heart started racing. The screen flashed all your most embarrassing, inner thoughts for everyone to see: Jeno please notice me, he smells so nice I wonder what shampoo he uses, let me lick his fresh sweats, practically soulmates cuz we like the same brand of gummy bear, hehe going to the cafe library cuz I know hes there to get an iced americano, hes wearing jeans today so no practice for him, and much, much more.
A fusion of anger and embarrassment furled inside of you because these were your private thoughts that belonged to only you, and instead, Keeho, however he found the notebook, violated your privacy and made it his entertainment. Your fingers curled up into a tight fist and you got up from the seat at the same time as your friend; you weren't sure if you wanted to confront Keeho or leave the place, all you knew was that you needed to do something. Before you could even decide which action to take, someone had jumped on stage and punched Keeho in the face. Oof. The sound was not pretty. It was Jeno; his hoodie was down and his cap flew off somewhere. Jeno yanked the remote off Keeho and switched off the screen, leaving it white and blank.
"Ouch, that hurts," Keeho wiped away the blood that oozed out of the corner of his lips.
Jeno ignored Keeho's comment, and without a problem, trapped him in a headlocked on the stage floor. Some took out their phones and recorded the brawl, including his own friends, some gasped in shocked, while others chanted, "fight!" "fight!" repeatedly. Whereas you stood in complete bewilderment at the scene in front of you.
"Do you want to leave?" Your friend was concerned at how fast the situation escalated.
You appreciated the way she was still holding your hand, "no," you whispered back.
"Give back the book and apologise to her," Jeno headlocked him even tighter against his hold, not tight enough to cause him any damage but tight enough to know that he was serious about his threat, as Keeho gasped for air, his hands tapping out.
"O-okay," he gasped out before Jeno loosened his hold on him.
"Journal, now." Jeno demanded and glared his eyes at him as they both stood up and faced each other. Only now that anger had melted off a bit, Jeno realised that people were recording and watching him as he stood under the stage light. The thing he hated most was unwanted attention and here he was, not caring about any of it, and only cared about you.
"Fine," Keeho took out the small notebook from his back pocket and displayed it in front of him and pulled in a smirked, "just so you know, I would call the police if I were you because the things that she has written in the note-,"
Jeno clenched his jaw and poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and cracked his fingers. With menacing steps, he approached Keeho to headlock him again but Keeho was already down on his knees begging for mercy.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he begged for forgiveness.
Jeno rolled his eyes at him and snatched the notebook sfrom him. "Why did you do this?" His voice still dropped with threat.
"It's because you lied to me. You weren't the model for my portrait? Fine. But you said that you would help me the next but didn't! You lied to me! You were already filming with her instead of me." Keeho cried out his reasons.
"Shouldn't you be attacking me instead of her?" Jeno asked, a bit confused. "And, she asked me first."
"Oh." A moment of realisation hit Keeho. "It is what it is?" He offered an awkward laughed.
"Booo you whore." Haechan yelled Keeho.
"Stop shaming woman!" Someone from the crowd shouted.
"Get outta here!" Sungchan booed.
"He doesn't even go here!" Mark howled.
"Misogynistic pig!" Your friend piped up.
"Apologise to her!" Serim yelled.
"We all want to lick his sweat!" Someone else screamed.
The entire crowd booed at Keeho and chanted, "apologise! Apologise!" repeatedly. Jeno himself bunched Keeho's shirt and dragged him down the stage to where you were standing with your friend. He shoved Keeho down on his knees in front of you, "apologise," Jeno demanded once again.
"I'm sorry," Keeho muttered.
"Louder," Jeno ordered, "she can barely hear you."
Keeho cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for invading your privacy and putting it up on public display."
"I don't forgive you but I don't ever want this to happen again, to me or anyone else." You replied.
"Now scram," Jeno said. The crowd cheered when Keeho scurried out of the auditorium, but not without tripping himself first.
"And this belongs to you," Jeno handed you the small black notebook to you.
"Thank you, Jeno," and your hand lingered on each other while the book was passed to you.
"Yo Jeno, what shampoo do you use?" A voice asked from the crowd, breaking the moment between the two of you.
He looked around awkwardly at the crowd who were waiting for his response, "apple scented," he commented. A chorus of "ahs" echoed.
"What brand?" Someone else asked.
"A five-in-one." There were audible gasps of disappointment that echoed throughout the small auditorium.
The crowd left excited, sharing more gossips with each other after the whole debacle died down as they exited the auditorium. "Wanna go get a little pick me up?" Your friend asked.
"Can I take a rain check? I need to do something first."
"Ok, see you!" You hugged your friend goodbye and she disappeared into the long hallway. Whereas you waited outside of the auditorium, in the corner, for Jeno to exit the premise. A minute later, Jeno showed up at the exit door and you pulled his hand to get his attention. "Jeno, can we talk for a minute?"
Jeno was taken aback but he nodded in agreement, "sure."
"Ohhh, they're getting back together," Mark teased and the other guys followed suit with the teasing.
"Privately," you whispered to Jeno, your hand was still holding his.
They were never going to let this down. They were ruining the moment he was having with you so he sent them death glares.
"Guys stop it, he's going to smack us down in front of people," Haechan teased some more and they ran away while laughing.
You pulled Jeno to a secluded corner where people rarely passed by. You were the first one to pull your hand away from his, "thank you for standing up for me."
"That was a fucked up thing for him to do," Jeno shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
You handed the journal to him. "This belongs to you because no matter how much I think about it, I shouldn't have done that to you even if it was for myself. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry Jeno," and waited for him to take the journal but his hands were still in his pockets.
He took out his hands from pockets and stepped forward, "what are you sorry for?" He leaned his face closer to yours.
"I'm sorry for writing all those things about you."
There was a smug smile on his face, "what things?" and leaned in even closer until you were a teasing breath away from him, his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips.
You pulled your head back a bit from Jeno, feeling a bit hot from the sudden tension, "for - um - writing inappropriate things and stalking your schedule, and," your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips back to his eyes. "And - and,"
Jeno lifted your chin up towards him and pulled your waist closer towards him, and he kissed you on the lips; unspoken words between the two of you was translated in a singular moment of passion, guilt, and love. You missed him terrribly and so did he.
"I've missed you, I've missed you, I've missed you," he muttered on your lips.
"You're not mad at me?" You asked him while the journal was in between you two.
"I am mad at you," Jeno remarked lightly. You pouted a guilty look and looked down to the ground but Jeno pulled you to his again. "I'm mad at you for not telling the truth."
You avoided his eye intense gaze. "I'm sorry J-"
"I'm mad at you for not being honest about your feelings with me. The truth that you liked me." He cupped your face in his hands, not letting you get away. "I'm mad at you for pushing me away. Why?" His last word carried a heavy weight.
"Because you said to not fall in love with you, and I already was," you explained, "and because you don't do relationships."
"And I was an idiot for that," he leaned his forehead against yours and intertwined your hands with his. God, did he miss playing with your hands. "I only did what I did on stage because of you. I wouldn't have done it for anyone else," he said, removing any doubts you had of his love and affection for you. "Please give me a chance to prove you wrong. Let's give us a chance, for real this time."
Your eyes flickered with the tiniest bit of hesitation. "I appreciate you, I really do but-"
"Forget about everything else, just tell me you want this as much I want you?" His eyes pleaded with desperation.
You offered a quiet hum at first, secretly making Jeno nervous at your silence. "We can give us a try," you said after much deliberation.
With the softest touch, he flicked the side of your head and kissed it. "We could've had this sooner, silly girl." He embraced you in a warm hug and whispered down to you, "now, what else did my favourite pervert write in the journal?"
"Not a pervert," heat crawled up your entire body so you hid your face in Jeno's chest and let out a small sound of embarrassment.
"It's fine, I'm a bigger pervert than you are," Jeno let out a hearty laughed. You were it for Jeno.
"One more time." Jeno angled the poloroid in front of you since you were perched on his lap.
"Again?" You sipped on your iced peach lemon tea and placed it back in the middle console.
"Yes, sit still and look pretty for me." He said in a serious tone.
"My favourite couple!" Chenle came running to the car on the gravelled road with his huge suitcase and sunglasses perched on his head. "Me too! I wanna join!" He saw the way you both were cuddled up and was envious that you both were taking pictures without him. "I wanna take pictures too!" Chenle attempted to climb on Jeno's lap in the crowded seat but Jeno pushed him away, accidentally a bit too hard, and Chenle fell on the gravelled ground. "Shit, that hurts." There was the tiniest cut on the palm of his hand and he looked like he was on the verge of tears.
"Jeno," you lightly scolded him, only for him to frowned a little.
Feeling guilty from the way he accidentally pushed Chenle a bit too roughly, he patted his other thigh with a defeated look. "Come on, Chenle. I didn't mean to push you hard." Chenle climbed on top of Jeno like an excited puppy and made himself comfortable on his lap, "oof," Jeno grunted when Chenle sat his full body weight on Jeno; two people were now on his lap, you on the right and Chenle on the left,
"Yay!" Chenle caressed Jeno's pecs over his shirt and felt up his biceps.
You flicked away Chenle's hands on Jeno's body. "Don't touch my man."
"I knew him first!" Jeno moved his ear away from Chenle and wiped off the splattered saliva from him.
"Say that a bit louder, I don't think we heard you." Jeno dryly remarked.
Chenle melted even more against Jeno's chest and noticed a, small but sparkling, "J" neck on you. "Nice necklace," he commented.
"Thanks!" You showed off the pretty necklace to Chenle. "Jeno got it for me." This kind of necklace wasn't your favourite but Jeno looked so cute and nervous before he gave it to you that you started loving it because of the meaning behind it.
"Looks expensive," Chenle noted the beautiful shimmer of the necklace.
"Yeah, used the bet money to buy this pretty little thing." Jeno squeezed your hip with one hand.
Chenle snorted. "All of it?"
"Well, half had to go to her," Jeno feigned a heartache as he nuzzled into you closer with a pout, "just for her to spend it on some boy band."
You slapped his chest, "it was vip tickets for The Visionary!"
"What?! What do you mean half had to go to her?" Chenle shouted even louder than last time which made Jeno flinched - he knows who to blame if he ever goes deaf one day.
"I owed her that money, a deal is a deal," Jeno interlocked your hands with his and played with your fingers and ignored the numbing sensation on his left thigh.
"You knew it was a bet?!" Chenle shouted again.
"Yeah." You nodded nonchalantly and leaned your head on Jeno's shoulder.
"Since when? Towards the end?"
"Since day one." You replied.
"And you agreed to it?" Chenle asked.
"It was easy money." You rolled your eyes. "We pretended to date so he could keep his bike," you rolled your eyes, "and see other girls."
"You're the only one for me now," Jeno kissed your knuckles.
"Not to ruin this barf-worthy, sappy moment but you cheated Jeno Lee!" He yelled at him again. "It means you owe me your motorbike! And my money back!"
"If you can ride it, you can take it." Jeno shrugged off Chenle's attitude. "But I already spent all your money."
"Shut up." Chenle was fuming and crossed his arms. "So, I won but it doesn't feel like I won."
"Yeah, I'm the winner." Jeno smirked a cocky smile at Chenle who was still whining, "come on, don't be a sore loser."
"Yeah, you're the loser here." You playfully snickered and made the letter L with your fingers and Jeno joined in on the teasing saying that he was a loser.
On the surface, Chenle sulked and complained like a true sore loser, however, he held back a victorious smirked because what you and Jeno both didn't know was that he, Chenle, was the real winner.
The university ice hockey team had won yet another game and everyone in the stand cheered with excitement. "We won! We won!" Chenle cheered for his hockey friends and jumped up and down with you, Yeji, Ryujin, Wonjin, and Taerae. All of your faces were covered with the university's colour, courtesy of Ryujin. The cheers didn't die down until minutes later because it was the first win of the season, but soon after, people left the hockey arena one by one in an orderly fashion. Most people would just leave the area but some students would stop and take pictures with their favourite player.
"Wait guys, I'll meet you at the exit, I wanna say hi to my hockey friends," Chenle waved at hockey team and skipped towards them.
You squatted down and set your iced peach lemon tea drink beside you, and unlaced your shoelaces even though it was originally perfectly tight and intact.
"Are you coming?" Yeji turned back when she realised you weren't beside them.
"Yeah, go ahead, just tying my shoelaces," you laced up your shoelaces at a very purposeful snail pace as you stole glances of people taking pictures with your favourite player, and secret crush, Lee Jeno. He had freshly dyed his hair dark blue and politely took pictures with everyone who asked for them. Even if some of them were a bit too touchy or a bit aggressive with their touch, Jeno brushed it off with his signature eye smile. At every game you've been to, you had often debated to ask for a picture with Jeno but always chickened out once you saw just how many girls waited and lined up for him. That was part of the reason your crush on him grew bigger, he was always so kind and nice to others despite his looks - although, romantic relationships was not in his dictionary.
Maybe this time? The crowd had already thinned out so you wouldn't be embarrassing yourself and he was already taking pictures with other people so he would most likely take it with you too. You tied up your shoelaces with courage, picked up your drink and stood up from your spot; your feet angled towards the icy rink but you froze when you saw that smile in his eyes, a different smile, the kind that looked like he just fell in love and was on cloud nine, while talking to a girl. With a defeated spirit, you slummed towards the exit. Again.
What you had failed to noticed as you walked out the place was that Chenle was watching your every move. Like clockwork, you always exited the area later than your friends because of your shoes but he never understood that because your laces were perfectly tight and laced up whenever he looked down at them. Out of curiosity, he followed your line of vision and it landed right on Jeno. Ah. He saw how your eyes glimmered at the sight of Jeno and a plan evilly brewed inside his head.
It’s such a bittersweet feeling that this is finally out there because this fanfic, for some reason, I had a lot of ups and downs with it and it didn’t have anything to do with me struggling with the plot line or the characters. The original draft was written awhile ago but I stopped and let it marinate because I didn’t like where the story was headed and wasn’t a big fan of the character. I let the fanfic collect dust with the intention of revamping it one day but I never did so I accepted the fate that it would die and simply be gone. Then I started writing the other Jeno fanfics and was struck with inspiration to revamp the entire thing and I did it! But in between all the writing and editing, there was a lot of doubt and negative attachment towards this for some reason??? Like I can’t even explain it cuz I also don’t know what it is 😭 whatever it is, I thought about dumping and deleting the story halfway when I was done but for some odd reason, I didn’t dump it, and continued working on it. Anyways, thank you if you’ve read this absolutely mess about a person stressing over a silly fanfic and thank u @neowinestainedress for supporting this nothingburger! And thank u for taking ur time to read this fanfic and I really do hope u all enjoyed it despite whatever feelings I have towards it! I always get so happy when ppl share their thoughts about the fanfic with me 💗.
Locked inside a rain-slicked apartment, the campus prince sheds his polite facade to systematically dismantle Y/N's boundaries with terrifying, dark dominance. Caught between physical torment and an intoxicating surrender, she is forced to learn exactly what happens when a wolf in sheep's clothing finally decides to stop playing nice.
Note:
I recently joined an RP for fun and never thought RPing as Jaemin is exciting. I left btw because I’m bored. Anyway, I have been working on this story for months and I couldn’t find myself to finish it. I will try to. I need more months though. But here you go. You can read it as it is. Funny thing is, it’s based on my recent fuck buddy situation. It’s basically my recent experience lmao. I have 3 stories that I’m working on rn but trashed them because the plot does not make any sense. This is the only one that made sense.
Anyway enjoy disappointment. Haha
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The smell of formaldehyde and rain always clung to the basement of the science building after midnight. It was 2:45 AM, and the only light in Lab 4B came from a single desk lamp and the dual-screen setup where Na Jaemin was meticulously adjusting the contrast on a cellular biology layout. To anyone else, it was a routine pre-med lab report. To Jaemin, who also had an open Photoshop window hidden in the background containing raw, high-contrast monochrome photographs he’d taken near the docks last weekend, it was a matter of absolute perfection.
He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, the collar of his oversized black hoodie pulled up against the draft. On campus, Jaemin was a ghost everyone claimed to know. They knew his face—the devastatingly symmetrical features, the deep-set eyes that seemed to look right through people, and the polite, gentle smile he offered professors and classmates alike. The department called him their sweetheart because he’d silently hold a heavy glass door open for a line of twenty people without a word, or hand over flawless notes to a struggling peer with a quiet, "Hope this helps."
But nobody actually knew him. He was a master of boundaries. He would listen to someone vent for an hour with intense, focused eye contact, making them feel like the center of the universe, and then vanish into thin air before they could ask for his number.
The lab door clicked open, breaking the silence. Lee Jeno walked in, tossing a fresh apple onto Jaemin’s desk. Jeno, a business major whose presence was all sharp jawlines and authority, looked at his best friend with an amused sigh.
"You're going to miss the morning lecture if you don't sleep," Jeno said, lean muscle shifting beneath his jacket. The two of them hit the gym at 5:00 AM three days a week—a brutal routine that had carved Jaemin’s frame from that of a lanky student into something broad-shouldered and imposing, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his clothes whenever he actually bothered to roll them up.
"I have fifteen minutes of rendering left," Jaemin said, his voice a low, gravelly morning rasp. He picked up the apple, taking a clean, sharp bite without looking away from the screen. "Go ahead, Jeno. I'll catch up."
The sharp, crisp snap of the apple skin breaking echoed in the cavernous room, a lonely sound against the low, steady hum of the laboratory's ventilation system. Jaemin chewed slowly, his gaze still anchored to the glowing dual monitors. The light cast a cold, pale blue hue across the sharp angles of his face, catching the edge of his jawline and reflecting in the clean glass of his wire-rimmed spectacles.
Jeno didn't leave immediately. He leaned back against a heavy black-topped lab bench, crossing his arms over his chest. His posture was relaxed but solid—the effortless confidence of a business major who knew exactly how to command a room. He watched Jaemin edit, his eyes tracking the fluid, rapid-fire movements of his best friend’s fingers over the keyboard shortcuts.
"You're lying about the fifteen minutes," Jeno noted, his deep voice carrying a quiet amusement. "You’ve been adjusting the same shadow layer for the last hour, haven't you? The lab report was finished at midnight."
Jaemin didn't deny it. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips was his only admission. He clicked a mouse button, hiding the cell biology layout entirely to reveal the underlying Photoshop canvas. It was a raw portrait of the city docks at dusk—stark, moody, and entirely devoid of people. The composition was technically perfect, but Jaemin’s eyes were looking for a flaw only he could see. He was stubborn like that. When a project seized his attention, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Time became fluid, morning bled into night, and physical exhaustion was just a minor inconvenience to be ignored.
"Go sleep, Jeno," Jaemin murmured again, his voice dropping into that quiet, gravelly register that only ever surfaced in the dead of night. "I'll see you at five anyway."
Jeno pushed off the counter with a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't skip the warm-up today. If you drop a plate on your chest because you're sleep-deprived, I'm not carrying you to the campus clinic." He turned on his heel, his heavy boots thudding softly against the linoleum until the heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving Jaemin completely alone with his thoughts.
——-
The morning chill took its time bleeding out of the university quad. By the time the clock tower finally struck one, the campus café was suffocating under a heavy blanket of midday lethargy and the oppressive hum of the lunchtime rush. The air inside was thick, a dense fog of scorched espresso, toasted paninis, and the collective, anxious sweat of students cramming for midterms. Sunlight cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows in sharp, blinding geometric blocks, illuminating dust motes dancing over sticky wooden tables and the endless, shuffling line of people waiting for their caffeine fixes.
Tucked away in the absolute furthest corner of the room, safely ensconced in the deep shadows of a large, leafy monstera plant and a decorative brick pillar, sat Jaemin. To anyone walking past, he was merely a scenic fixture of the café—an attractive, completely still statue wrapped in a heavy, charcoal-grey designer sweater that swallowed his frame but couldn't hide the impressive breadth of his shoulders.
He looked entirely detached from the world, the wire-rimmed glasses from the lab replaced by a pair of heavy lids that lowered lazily over his dark eyes. On the wooden surface before him sat a bizarre, toxic midday ritual: a cup of extra-strong black coffee sitting directly adjacent to a heavily sugared, 100% sweetness milk tea. Every few minutes, without looking up, he would take a sip of the bitter espresso to shock his nervous system awake from a four-hour sleep deficit, immediately followed by a long draw of the syrupy milk tea to soothe the burn. It was a chaotic caffeine-and-sugar bomb keeping his brain firing, yet his outer aura remained perfectly calm, mature, and entirely unbothered.
Right up until a heavy leather backpack slammed onto the table, vibrating the wood and threatening to send his twin drinks spilling over the edge.
"Look at him," Haechan declared, his voice cutting through the café’s low chatter with the subtle grace of a flashbang. He slid aggressively into the booth, his entire body slumping forward until his chin was practically glued to the table. "Look at the tragic, hollow shell of the man who used to rule this campus. It’s disgusting. It’s an affront to nature."
Renjun, who had spent the last hour meticulously sorting his literature thesis notes into a flawlessly aligned, color-coded stack, closed his eyes. The muscle in his jaw twitched violently. He carefully placed his highlighter down, took a slow, deep breath, and then reached across the table to swat the back of Haechan’s head.
"If you dent my binders with your massive skull one more time, Haechan, I will bury you under the library," Renjun hissed, his voice low but dripping with an icy, stressed-out malice that only an oldest student on a deadline could manifest. "Some of us are trying to maintain a GPA. Go scream into a pillow elsewhere."
"I am mourning!" Haechan shot back, completely unbothered, pivoting his torso to lean his weight onto Chenle’s shoulder instead. "Chenle, back me up here. The pre-med block has castrated our resident heartbreaker. Look at him over there, sipping his little baby drinks, completely celibate. The women of the sophomore nursing block are literally wandering the quad like lost sheep, wondering where their favorite smile went. He hasn't had a single 'situation' since the leaves were green."
Chenle didn't immediately answer because he was too busy laughing—that loud, piercing, unhinged laugh that usually drew glances from three tables over. He shifted his arm, making sure his ridiculously expensive watch caught the sunlight just right as he scrolled through his phone.
"I mean, he’s not wrong," Chenle wheezed, tapping a manicured finger on the screen. "Even Jisung noticed. And Jisung usually doesn't even notice when he has his own shirt on backwards. Jisung, tell them what you said in the dorms yesterday."
Across the table, Jisung was aggressively typing a line of code into his laptop, his shoulders hunched as he tried to disappear into his oversized hoodie. Hearing his name, he blinked slowly through a fringe of messy hair, looking thoroughly trapped. "I just... I just said the apartment has been quiet. I thought he was just really passionate about the cardiovascular module. He was in the anatomy lab until three in the morning three days in a row..."
"Passionate about dead bodies, maybe," Haechan groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "But the living ones are suffering! Jaemin, look at me. Look into my eyes. I am fixing your life today." Haechan aggressively snatched his own phone out, opening his Instagram explore page and thrusting it directly into Jaemin’s field of vision. "Look. Minji from the dance department. She literally asked me three days ago if you were still breathing. She’s hot, she’s nice, she doesn't mind that you don't talk. Just take her for a drink."
Jaemin didn't move an inch. He didn't even tilt his head. His eyes merely slid down to the screen being forced into his face, his expression completely blank, as deadpan as a stone wall.
"No," Jaemin murmured, his voice a low, raspy morning growl that sounded like it hadn't been fully broken in yet. He rotated his milk tea cup between his fingers, the ice clinking softly.
"Okay, fine, too high energy for you," Haechan muttered, pulling the phone back and aggressively swiping. "What about that quiet girl from the chem lab? The one who looks like she permanently wants to cry? You love that mysterious, tragic vibe."
"She’s too loud when she gets nervous," Jaemin said softly, taking another slow sip of his espresso.
"You are infuriating," Renjun snapped, though his annoyance was now shifting from Haechan to Jaemin’s impossible standards. "You sit there like some sort of monk, letting people literally fling their entire bodies at your feet during lectures, and you just step over them like they’re garbage on the sidewalk."
It was the absolute truth. To the rest of the university, Jaemin was the department's sweetheart because he was polite to a fault—he’d hold a heavy glass door open for twenty people without a word, or hand over flawless notes to a failing classmate with a gentle, silent smile. But beneath that calm, kind reputation lay an iron-clad fortress of boundaries. When girls got too close, when they deliberately left their lip balms on his desk or tried to slide into his personal space at parties, Jaemin’s aura turned brutally, violently cold. He would give them a dead-eyed, microscopic stare that made their blood run cold, step back, and walk away without uttering a single syllable. He utterly despised desperation.
But when he did choose to engage, it wasn't a fling—it was an art form executed with terrifying psychological precision. He knew exactly how to play the flawed, vulnerable prince. And when he decided it was over, he had a devastating way of flipping the narrative so smoothly that the girls never saw the blade. “It’s completely my fault,” he would whisper in the dark, looking at them with such raw, feigned sincerity that the girls would end up weeping, wrapping their arms around his broad shoulders, apologizing to him for not being strong enough to hold his heavy heart. They would walk away utterly dismantled, yet fiercely protective of his reputation, blind to the fact that they had been systematically dissected and discarded.
"Let me see that," Haechan muttered, completely ignoring the tension as he snatched Chenle’s phone this time, scrolling through a random mutual connection's story feed. "If Jaemin won't choose, I'll find someone so ridiculous he can't say no. Wait... who is this?"
Haechan’s thumbs stopped. He squinted at the screen, a low whistle escaping his lips. "Whoa. Okay, scratch Jaemin. I might actually take this one for myself. Look at this girl. She’s gorgeous. Who is she, Chenle?"
Chenle leaned over, squinting at his own screen. "Oh, her? That's Y/N. She’s a senior. My cousin knows her. Don't bother, Haechan, she’d eat you alive. She’s notoriously loud, she hates everyone’s bullshit, and she has zero filter."
"I like a challenge," Haechan grinned, leaning back to admire the photo.
Jaemin, who had been completely checked out of the conversation, caught the name. Y/N. His gaze lazily drifted over to Chenle’s phone, which Haechan was still holding up.
The story had been posted just twenty minutes ago, and even from a distance, the image didn't just sit on the screen—it practically screamed with life. She was at a beachside rooftop bar, the pitch-black ocean serving as a vast, heavy backdrop against the harsh, violent pink and neon blue lights of the venue. She was laughing. Not a polite, delicate chuckle, but a full-bodied, uninhibited laugh, her head tilted back, her dark hair caught in the sea breeze. She was wearing a structured, low-cut crimson top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination; her skin looked sun-kissed, glowing under the neon, her breasts almost popping out of the fabric in a way that was undeniably, violently hot.
But it wasn't just the physical heat that made Jaemin’s pupils instantly dilate. It was her energy. Even through a compressed digital screen, she radiated a magnetic, fiercely intense aura. She looked like a girl who had walked through an absolute fire, dusted herself off, and decided to burn the rest of the world down with her joy. There was a sharp, uncanny intuition in her eyes—the kind of look that suggested she could smell a lie from a mile away and wouldn't hesitate to call it out. She looked radiant, wild, and entirely untamed.
Jaemin’s hand, still wrapped around his milk tea, tightened slightly. The sleepy, polite pre-med student persona vanished from his eyes in an instant, replaced by something dark, heavy, and completely primal. A possessive, dominant instinct—something that had been buried deep through months of tedious lectures and sterile lab reports—flared to life in his gut. A girl like that wouldn't just be a distraction. She was a necessity. He wanted to see if that loud, unapologetic mouth could be made to make entirely different noises behind a locked door.
Without a single word to his friends, who were currently arguing over whether Haechan could even survive a conversation with her, Jaemin pulled his own phone from the pocket of his hoodie.
He didn't search for her. He didn't need to; he realized he already followed her from a brief, forgotten student council mixer months ago where she’d ignored him entirely. He pulled up her profile, tapped her latest story, and opened the message box.
His fingers moved with slow, unhurried, terrifyingly deliberate precision as he typed out a single, devastating line:
“The red suits you. But it would look better on my bedroom floor. Let me take you out tonight.”
——-
The salt air at the rooftop bar was thick, sticking to Y/N’s skin as she stared down at her phone screen. The neon pink light from the venue’s sign bled over her fingers, casting a harsh, artificial glow across the glass. She had just hit 'post' on her story twenty minutes ago, and her heart was still doing that ugly, irregular thumping thing it always did when she was acting out of pure, unadulterated spite.
The photo was gorgeous—she knew that. She looked radiant, her head tilted back in a laugh that felt only half-real, the structured crimson top pushing her breasts up in a way that practically demanded attention.
But the photo wasn't for the three hundred random campus acquaintances who had already viewed it. It was for one specific person.
Eric.
Just three days ago, Y/N had laid her cards on the table. For someone who had fought tooth and nail against anxiety, who had rebuilt her sense of safety from the absolute ashes of a chaotic childhood, being vulnerable was an agonizing chore. But she had been sincere. She had sat down, swallowed her fierce pride, and texted Eric exactly how she felt about their months-long fling, expecting at least a shred of the loyalty she so fiercely gave to others.
And he had completely, utterly ignored her.
He hadn't opened the message. The little gray unread icon sat there like a slap in the face. Yet, within ten minutes of her posting that beachside photo, his username had popped up at the very bottom of her story viewers list. He was watching. He was always watching, lingering like a ghost who refused to either speak or leave, a habitual betrayal of her peace that made her blood boil.
"Screw him," she muttered under her breath, locking her phone and shoving it face-down onto the sticky wooden table.
For the past seventy-two hours, she had thrown herself into a manic cycle of physical distraction. She had run miles until her lungs burned, hit the gym until her muscles trembled, and spent hours curating an exterior that shouted to the world—and to him—that she was perfectly fine. That she was living, breathing, and thriving without his bare-minimum presence. It was a coping mechanism born of past heartbreaks, a deliberate act of defiance against the familiar darkness trying to creep back into her chest. She was trying so hard to just move on, to claw her way back to the unapologetic, funny girl she actually liked being.
A sharp ping vibrated through the wood.
Y/N sighed, flipping the phone over. Her notifications were already a mess of fire emojis and predictable reactions from guys she blocked out of habit. She casually swiped into her direct message requests, expecting the usual barrage of low-effort compliments.
Instead, a single, unread bubble from a verified-looking account sat at the top.
“The red suits you. But it would look better on my bedroom floor. Let me take you out tonight.”
Y/N let out a loud, cynical scoff, her nose wrinkling in immediate disgust. "Ugh. Another one. Seriously, do these men have a communal script they all copy and paste from?" she grumbled, rolling her eyes. She was exhausted by the sheer volume of horny university dudes who mistook a hot outfit for an open invitation to her bed. She was about to swipe left and delete the request without a second thought.
"What are you muttering about?" her friend, Mina, asked, leaning over from the adjacent stool with a cocktail in hand. Mina’s eyes casually drifted down to Y/N’s screen, tracking the movement of her thumb.
Suddenly, Mina choked on her drink, a sharp cough rattling her chest as she violently snatched the phone out of Y/N’s hand.
"Hey! Give it back—"
"Shut up, shut up, oh my god, shut up," Mina hissed, her eyes widening to the size of saucers as she stared at the username at the top of the chat block. @na.jaemin. "Y/N. Are you actual royalty? How the hell did you pull Na Jaemininto your primary message requests? What kind of dark magic are you practicing?"
Y/N blinked, completely thrown off by her friend’s sudden hyperventilation. She reached over, aggressively tugging her phone back. "Who? No, I’ve never talked to that guy in my life. Is he one of Eric's frat friends? Because if he is, I'm blocking him right now."
"Eric’s friends wish they could even breathe the same air as him," Mina whispered dramatically, grabbing Y/N’s forearm with an intensity that was bordering on frightening. "That is Na Jaemin. The pre-med guy. The one who looks like an actual prince but ignores every single living breathing woman on the science quad. Girls literally cry in the library because he doesn't look at them when he holds the door. And he just... he sent you that?"
Y/N looked back down at the screen. The message felt different now, heavy with a strange, unexpected weight. Na Jaemin. She vaguely recalled the name from a massive student union mixer months ago—a quiet, terrifyingly handsome guy who had spent the entire night sitting in a corner with a camera, completely ignoring the chaos around him. She had ignored him right back, assuming he was just another arrogant campus elite.
"He's probably just a creep with a high GPA," Y/N muttered, though her finger didn't hit the delete button this time.
Driven by a sudden, intense wave of curiosity, she tapped on his profile picture. If her intuition was as sharp as she claimed it was, she could usually spot a fraud within three scrolls of their grid.
She expected to find the typical fuckboy layout—shirtless mirror selfies, blurry nightclub photos, and tagged pictures surrounded by hordes of girls. Instead, his feed was surprisingly barren, almost clinical in its structure. It was filled with high-contrast, moody monochrome photographs of architecture, empty city docks at twilight, and a few scattered shots of his friends—a sharp-jawed guy lifting weights, a loud-looking kid laughing at a café.
There were only two photos of Jaemin himself. One was a candid shot of him in a sterile laboratory setting, his wire-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, completely absorbed in a microscope. The other was a black-and-white portrait taken from the side; he was wearing an oversized black sweater, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow against a concrete wall, his expression mature, calm, and utterly unreadable.
He didn't look like a creep. He looked... solid. Mysterious, definitely, but there was an undeniable absence of the cheap, desperate try-hard energy she usually detested in men. He looked like someone who knew exactly who he was, sitting comfortably in his own silence.
"Well?" Mina prompted, eyebrow raised, watching the expressions flicker across Y/N’s face. "Are you going to leave A-list campus royalty on read while you cry over a guy who can't even open a text?"
Y/N stared at the blinking cursor in the text box. Her thumb hovered. The lingering sting of Eric’s rejection was still a dull ache in her chest, a reminder of how sincerity had gotten her absolutely nowhere. She had spent so long fighting her own anxieties, rebuilding her walls, and playing it safe.
But looking at Jaemin’s blunt, wildly confident message, a sudden spark of her old, reckless defiance flared to life. Why should she care? It was just a drink. A night with someone completely outside her messy circle might be exactly what she needed to scrub the taste of heartbreak out of her mouth.
She bit her lower lip, a wicked, amused smile finally breaking through her sour mood as she began to type.
——-
Y/N’s thumb hovered over the glowing glass screen for what felt like an eternity, the harsh, electric pink glare from the rooftop bar's neon sign slicing across her knuckles in slow, rhythmic pulses. Around her, the bass from the venue’s speakers thrummed through the soles of her shoes, a heavy, vibrating reminder of a night she was desperately trying to lose herself in.
She was not a girl who got easily swayed by a smooth line. She certainly wasn’t about to buckle under a borderline crass, wildly audacious opener from a guy who likely had half the university’s sophomore block waiting on a single syllable from his lips. Her heart was still guarded, wrapped tight in the calloused, protective layers she had painfully built over the last seventy-two hours. Eric’s cold shoulder—the agonizing reality of a genuine confession met with absolute, unread silence while he still mindlessly tapped through her life via social media stories—had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn't scanning the horizon for a white knight to save her, and she absolutely wasn't horny. She was simply, deeply tired of feeling small. She was tired of letting a boy make her feel like an afterthought.
A sudden, cynical spike of amusement tilted the corner of her lips. If this Na Jaemin wanted a game, she’d play, but she’d play by her rules. With a slow, deliberate tap of her acrylics against the glass, she typed out a dry, fiercely independent response that practically dripped with unbothered indifference:
“Bold of you to assume you’re getting anywhere near my bedroom floor, Na Jaemin. But nice try.”
She didn’t wait for a typing bubble. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her stay active online. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she hit send, locked the screen with a definitive click, and tossed the phone deep into the chaotic abyss of her shoulder bag. She fully expected him to drop the act. A guy with his face and his reputation didn't work for it; the moment a girl showed a spine, he’d surely move on to an easier, far more eager target.
Meanwhile, on the exact opposite side of town, the atmosphere inside the boys' off-campus apartment was far more chaotic.
The living room smelled of clean laundry, stale pizza crusts, and Jeno's intensely flavored pre-workout. Jaemin sat right on the edge of the worn-in leather sofa, his broad shoulders hunched forward as the harsh white light of his phone illuminated the sharp, symmetrical lines of his face. He had been staring at the chat interface for three minutes, his jaw tight.
The exact millisecond the notification banner slid down from the top of his screen, Haechan practically launched his entire torso over the back of the couch. The sheer force of his landing nearly sent Chenle’s half-empty iced Americano flying off the coffee table and onto the rug.
"She replied! She replied! The target has bitten the bait!" Haechan shrieked (somehow decided to support his friend, with the girl he actually wanted to bang), his voice hitting a glass-shattering register as he shoved his face directly into Jaemin’s personal space, trying to peek over his shoulder. "What did she say? Read it out loud, doctor, let’s analyze the tactical damage. Did she fold?"
Jaemin didn't read it out loud. In fact, he didn't move a single muscle. He just stared at the two short sentences, his dark eyebrows pulling together in a rare, genuine display of mild frustration. His flirting skills were undeniably, catastrophically rusty. He had spent the last twelve months talking almost exclusively to heavily annotated pathology textbooks, sterile lab instruments, and human cadavers. He was entirely used to relying purely on his natural visuals, his silent, charming aura, and a calculated dose of cold avoidance to keep people hovering around him. Actually having to chase—having to actively think about how to win over a girl who clearly didn't give a damn about his campus status—felt like trying to use an old muscle that had gone completely numb from disuse.
"She’s shutting you down completely," Jeno called out, walking out of the kitchen with a heavy glass protein shaker in hand. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his sharp, alpha-male jawline as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his thick arms. "I told you, Jaemin. You can't just slide into the DMs of a girl like Y/N with a textbook bedroom line after six straight months of complete, pre-med celibacy. You’ve lost your touch. Your radar is broken."
"Let me type the reply," Chenle demanded, aggressively snapping his fingers as he lunged across the cushions, trying to snatch the phone right out of Jaemin’s hand. "No, seriously! Let me handle this. I know her vibe through my cousin. You need to be funny, not an arrogant prick. Tell her your bedroom floor has excellent premium underfloor heating. It’s a flex and an invitation!"
"That is officially the most pathetic, single-inducing line I have ever heard in my twenty-two years on this earth," Renjun’s voice cut through the noise like a scalpel. He was sitting at the dining table, surrounded by three different open laptops and a mountain of color-coded literature guides, not even bothering to look up from his screen. "If you type that, Chenle, she will block his account, change her legal name, and file a permanent restraining order. Leave him alone. Let the medical department fail in peace."
"I am not failing," Jaemin murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, dangerously stubborn undertone he only ever used when a complex laboratory experiment refused to yield the correct results.
He swerved his long arm entirely out of Chenle’s reach, his massive, gym-sculpted hand completely covering the phone screen like a shield. He wiped his face with his free hand, letting out a low, rough exhale. He stared down at Y/N’s dry text again. Nice try. It was a slap to his ego, but a strangely exhilarating one. She wasn't biting. She wasn't remotely impressed by the 'Na Jaemin' effect that usually had girls stuttering in the lecture halls.
He cleared his throat, his thumb hovering over the virtual keyboard as he completely tuned out Haechan’s frantic suggestions to send a viral TikTok meme. He decided to entirely drop the overly smooth, calculated persona. If his flirting was rusty, he’d lean right into it. He’d give her something raw, direct, and completely stripped of his usual campus pretension.
His fingers tapped the screen with a steady, unhurried precision:
“Fair point. Let’s start smaller then. A coffee shop that isn’t on campus. Somewhere completely private, where nobody can see how badly I’m losing my mind trying to figure out what to say to you.”
——-
The next morning, the heavy morning haze hadn't entirely lifted from the campus when Y/N found herself trapped in the agonizingly slow crawl of a 9:00 AM sociology lecture. The auditorium was a massive, tiered cavern of dark wood and peeling linoleum, echoing with the professor’s monotonous drone about structural functionalism. Outside, a bleak drizzle tapped rhythmically against the frosted glass windows. Inside, Y/N sat in the third row from the back, her chin heavily propped in her palm, her fingers mindlessly swirling a dead ballpoint pen over her empty notebook.
She actually decided to check the messages on her phone this time.
Pulling it under the safety of the wooden desk, she unlocked the screen, expecting another generic, low-effort notification. Instead, her eyes landed on the push notification from Jaemin.
“Fair point. Let’s start smaller then. A coffee shop that isn’t on campus. Somewhere completely private, where nobody can see how badly I’m losing my mind trying to figure out what to say to you.”
Y/N stared at the words, her breath hitching slightly. It wasn’t the standard, aggressive pushback she was entirely used to expecting from campus fuckboys whose fragile egos got bruised at the first sign of resistance. It didn't have that oily, overconfident sheen Eric’s texts used to carry. It was surprisingly self-aware—almost charmingly clumsy for a guy with a reputation as flawless and untouchable as his.
A small, genuine laugh escaped her lips, breaking the dead silence of the lecture hall.
The sound cut through the room, instantly drawing a sharp, reprimanding look from the professor over the rim of his reading glasses. Y/N quickly bit the inside of her cheek, ducking her head down and hiding her blooming smile behind her palm, her heart doing a quick, erratic skitter against her ribs.
Okay, she thought, her uncanny intuition treading carefully, sorting through the layers of her guarded heart, but moving with a newfound curiosity. Maybe he isn’t entirely intolerable.
Scrambling to share the sheer absurdity of the situation with her lifeline, she immediately took a screenshot of Jaemin's text. She opened her direct messages, clicked on Mina’s name, and swiftly typed: “Is he serious right now?”
With a blind tap of her thumb, she hit send.
It took exactly two seconds for her eyes to register the profile icon at the top of the chat window. It wasn't Mina's. It was a minimalist gray aesthetic grid.
She had sent the screenshot—and the caption—directly back to Na Jaemin.
"Oh my god," she whispered, a cold spike of panic shooting down her spine. Her fingers flew across the glass, frantically pressing down on the media bubble until the option popped up. She slammed Unsend, her chest heaving as the image vanished from the screen.
But it was already 9:42 AM. And Na Jaemin was already online.
[9:42 AM]
Y/N: Ignore that. Wrong chat.
Jaemin: I saw it before you unsent it.
Jaemin: So, am I serious?
Y/N: You’re awake early for a night owl, Na Jaemin. Don’t you have a cadaver to dissect or something?
Jaemin: I’m in pathology right now. The professor is talking about arterial plaque. But I’m looking at my phone because you haven’t answered my question.
Y/N: I don’t answer loaded questions from campus royalty before I’ve had my breakfast.
Jaemin: What are you eating?
Y/N: Nothing. The line at the bakery near my flat was down the block.
Jaemin: Address?
Y/N: Nice try, stalker. I’m not giving a pre-med student my location. I’ve seen enough true crime to know how that ends.
Jaemin: I don’t need your apartment number. Just the street. I have a break in twenty minutes and Jeno has his car.
Y/N: Do you always get your way just because you have a pretty face?
Jaemin: Usually, yes. But with you, I feel like I’m running a marathon in combat boots.
Y/N: Good. Keep running. It’s good for your cardio.
—-
The air inside the apartment was thick with the scent of Jeno’s highly concentrated berry pre-workout and the sizzling grease of bacon Haechan was currently burning on the stove. It was late afternoon, that sluggish window of time between the end of lectures and the beginning of a long night of cramming.
Jaemin was slumped back on the low leather sofa, one long leg thrown over the armrest. He looked completely dead to the world, an oversized black hoodie pulled up over his head, his face half-buried in the collar. But his fingers were moving, tapping a slow, rhythmic pattern against the back of his phone.
"He's doing it again," Haechan said, pointing a grease-stained spatula toward the couch. He didn't lower his voice, despite being only six feet away. "Look at the jawline. It’s tight. He only locks his jaw like that when he’s trying to solve a chemistry equation or when someone is actively bruising his massive pre-med ego."
Jeno, who was sitting on a weight bench in the corner of the living room mindlessly curling a forty-pound dumbbell, let out a low chuckle. The heavy iron clinked against the floor as he sat up, wiping sweat from his forehead with a grey towel. "Leave him alone, Haechan. He’s trying to remember how to speak to women. It’s a delicate medical procedure."
"No, I want to see the progress," Chenle piped up, sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. He aggressively dropped onto the opposite end of the sofa, making the leather groan under the sudden weight. He leaned over, trying to peek under the hood. "Jaemin. Nana. Let us see. Did she block you yet? It’s been three days since you sent that private coffee shop text."
Jaemin didn't blink. He simply twisted his wrist, tilting the screen away from Chenle’s line of sight with a fluid, well-practiced motion. "Go finish the bacon, Haechan. It’s smoking."
"Don't deflect!" Haechan dropped the spatula onto a plate and bolted across the room, diving directly over the back of the sofa. He landed with his elbow squarely against Jaemin’s broad shoulder, his fingers aggressively clawing for the device. "Jeno, hold his arms! He’s got those gym guns working against us!"
"I'm not getting involved in this," Jeno muttered, though a massive, amused grin split his sharp features as he watched the chaotic scramble.
"Give it here—" Haechan grunted, utilizing his sheer, unhinged chaotic energy to wedge himself between Jaemin’s chest and the armrest.
Jaemin let out a low, gravelly sigh, his resistance dropping slightly out of sheer exhaustion. He could easily have pinned Haechan with one hand, but he just didn't have the energy to fight off both him and a lurking Chenle. He locked his phone with a definitive click just as Haechan managed to snatch it out of his grip.
"Ha! Victory for the arts department!" Haechan cheered, scrambling backward off the couch. He held the phone high like a trophy, Chenle immediately crowding his shoulder to look. "Wait, it’s locked. Jaemin, face ID. Look at it. Look at the camera."
Jaemin stayed exactly where he was, his head tilted back against the cushions, eyes closed. "No."
"Jisung!" Haechan yelled toward the hallway. "Hold his eyelids open!"
From the shadows of the corridor, Jisung emerged holding a half-eaten bag of chips, looking thoroughly exhausted by his elders. "I'm not doing that. Renjun said if we break another piece of furniture he’s moving out."
"Fine, I’ll guess the passcode," Haechan muttered, tapping furiously. "Is it your birthday? No. Is it the date you first held a scalpel? No. Wait... it opened? Why is your passcode literally four zeros? You are a medical genius and your security system is a joke."
"Because nobody touches my phone except you idiots," Jaemin murmured, his voice smooth, completely unbothered by the breach of privacy. He let them have their fun, knowing there was nothing incriminating in the logs—just the slow, steady burn of a game he was fully intent on winning.
Haechan’s eyes scanned the screen, his dramatic smirk instantly turning into a look of genuine, high-pitched disbelief. "Oh my god. Look at this. Look at the text density."
"What? Let me see," Chenle wheezed, his high laugh echoing through the small apartment.
"She sent him a screenshot of his own text," Haechan read aloud, his voice dripping with theatrical mockery. "‘Is he serious right now?’ And then she unsent it! Oh, the panic. The absolute, beautiful panic of a girl who realized she just exposed her own cards."
Jeno walked over now, curiosity finally getting the better of his discipline. He leaned over Haechan’s shoulder, his sharp eyes reading the exchange. A slow whistle escaped his lips. "Combat boots? She told you to keep running for your cardio?" Jeno looked at Jaemin, an impressed glint in his eye. "She’s sharp, Jaemin. She didn't drop her address even when you offered the car."
"Of course she didn't," Haechan teased, shoving the phone back into Jaemin’s chest. "She knows exactly what kind of predatory animal you are behind that 'department sweetheart' smile. Look at you, Na Jaemin. 'Somewhere completely private, where nobody can see how badly I’m losing my mind.' Wow. The desperation is dripping off the screen. I can smell the rust from here."
Jaemin caught the phone against his chest, his large fingers curling around the case. He didn't counter the teasing. He didn't even look annoyed anymore. Slowly, he opened his eyes, a small, dark, and incredibly confident smile spreading across his face as he unlocked the screen once more.
"She’s just setting boundaries," Jaemin said softly, his voice low and utterly certain as his thumb hovered over Y/N's name. "And I'm very good at breaking them down."
——
The sociology lectures became far more tolerable over the next two weeks, mostly because Y/N spent forty-five minutes of them staring at a tiny, glowing green dot next to Jaemin’s profile picture.
Despite the chaotic teasing from his roommates, Jaemin’s digital presence shifted. The clumsy, rusty edge she had detected in his first few messages began to smooth out, replaced by a quiet, persistent rhythm that Y/N found increasingly difficult to shake. He didn't flood her inbox; he wasn't desperate. Instead, he dropped into her life at the exact moments her mind began to drift, like a slow-release sedative against her daily anxieties.
Yet, Y/N remained fiercely skeptical. She had been burned badly enough by Eric to know that a man’s words on a screen were completely weightless. Men could type poetry while holding someone else’s hand. They could fake sincerity with a well-timed emoji.
[Tuesday — 11:14 PM]
Jaemin: (Sends a photo of a single, perfectly round green apple sitting next to a massive, terrifyingly thick textbook on human neuroanatomy.) The apple is crisp. The textbook is a hate crime. How’s your night?
Y/N: Just watching a movie. Trying to ignore the fact that I have a paper due in twelve hours.
Jaemin: What movie?
Y/N: An old 90s Hong Kong film. Lots of rain, moody lighting, cigarettes, and people looking longing at each other in alleyways. You’d probably like the cinematography.
Jaemin: I like anything where people don't talk too much. The world is too loud.
Y/N: Is that why you’re so quiet on campus? Mina says you walk through the hallways like you’re a ghost who owns the property.
Jaemin: I’m just saving my words for the people who actually matter.
Y/N: Ugh. Smooth. Did Haechan dictate that one to you?
Jaemin: Haechan is currently trying to dry-clean his own jacket with a hair dryer because he spilled soup on it. I promise you, my vocabulary is entirely my own.
Y/N: I don’t know, Na Jaemin. You have a very dangerous reputation. The girls in my block talk about you like you’re some sort of mythical creature who leaves heartbreak in his wake. I’m starting to think this entire 'quiet pre-med gentleman' thing is just an elaborate trap.
Jaemin: A trap for what?
Y/N: For naive girls who think they can fix the mysterious boy in the black hoodie. But I don't fix people. And I don't fall for lines.
Jaemin: (A long pause. The typing bubble appears, disappears, then comes back.) Good. I don't want to be fixed. And I don’t want a naive girl.
Y/N: (Her heart gives a small, involuntary thud against her ribs. She shifts on her bed, her fingers tightening on the phone.) Then what do you want?
Jaemin: I want to know why you always take photos from the right side of your face.
Y/N: (She freezes, staring at the text. Her mind races back through her recent stories.) What?
Jaemin: Your stories. The rooftop bar, the café last week, even the candid your friend tagged you in. You always tilt your head to the left, exposing the right side of your jaw. It’s a habit.
Y/N: Are you literally analyzing my bone structure through Instagram, you absolute creep?
Jaemin: I told you before. I’m detail-oriented. It’s a habit from photography. And medicine. I notice the small things.
Y/N: It’s because I have a tiny scar near my left ear from when I was a kid. I hate it. It makes me feel exposed.
Jaemin: (The reply is almost instant.) Next time we talk, look at me from the left. I want to see it.
Y/N: There isn't going to be a next time if you keep being this forward. You haven't earned that yet.
Jaemin: Then let me earn it. Stop hiding behind your screen, Y/N. You’re brave enough to call out everyone else's bullshit, but you're terrified of letting me get close enough to see yours.
Y/N slammed her phone face-down onto her mattress, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gaps. Her intuition was screaming, but it wasn't screaming danger in the way it usually did with toxic men. It was screaming because he had just stripped away a layer of her armor with a single observation. He wasn't just flirting with her body; he was paying attention to her habits. He was looking at her the way he looked at his photography—searching for the hidden contrast, the details nobody else bothered to find.
She rolled over, staring at the ceiling, her chest tight. She was still skeptical, still convinced that a night with him might just end in another lesson about trusting attractive men. But as she reached back down to flip her phone over, watching his typing bubble flicker one last time, she realized she was already losing the ground she had fought so hard to protect.
———
The weekend of the mid-semester break kicked off with a massive, unhinged off-campus house party hosted by one of the senior business blocks. By midnight, the entire venue was a sweaty, chaotic blur of blasting bass, cheap red cups, and suffocating body heat.
For Jaemin, it was an absolute disaster of an evening. He had only agreed to show up because Haechan had practically begged him on his knees to act as a wingman. But by 1:30 AM, his useless friends had completely scattered.
Haechan had vanished into a cab with a girl from the cheer squad. Chenle had gotten into a ridiculously loud argument about cryptocurrency on the back patio and disappeared with his own crowd. Renjun had wisely left early to sleep on his girlfriend’s flat and Jeno—who was usually the reliable one—had ended up locked in a VIP upstairs room with a stunning marketing major he’d been eyeing for weeks.
To make matters worse, when Jaemin finally gave up and walked out into the freezing night air, his hand dove into his hoodie pocket and met nothing but empty fabric. He had left his apartment keys sitting right on the kitchen counter next to his morning apple. Jeno’s phone was completely dead, Haechan wasn't answering, and Jaemin was locked out of his own life.
"Fuck's sake," Jaemin muttered under his breath, his breath hitching in a silvery cloud as a sudden, brutal torrential downpour opened up over the city.
Within minutes, the freezing rain soaked entirely through his heavy canvas jacket and black hoodie, plastering his dark hair to his forehead. Shivering violently, his jaw clenched to keep his teeth from chattering, he took shelter beneath a massive, spreading oak tree near the edge of the campus quad. It was a pathetic excuse for a shield. No matter how much he tried to pull his broad, gym-toned shoulders inward and compress his muscular frame against the rough bark, the heavy wind-blown sheets of water kept slamming directly into his face. He looked less like a campus prince and more like a deeply miserable, drowned stray dog.
Pulling out his water-logged phone with numb, shivering fingers, he unlocked Instagram. The first thing that popped up at the top of his feed was a fresh story from Y/N. It was a simple, cozy photo of a steaming mug of chamomile tea resting on a fluffy white duvet, captioned: “Rainy nights are for staying inside and doing absolutely nothing.”
A dark, desperate, and entirely helpless chuckle escaped his lips. Without letting himself overthink it, his trembling thumb tapped her message box.
[2:14 AM]
Jaemin: Are you still awake?
Y/N: (An almost instant reply, her intuition sparking at the unusual hour) Jaemin? Yeah, I'm awake. Why are you texting me at two in the morning? Aren't you supposed to be ruling the senior party?
Jaemin: I’m currently hiding under a tree on 4th Street. My friends got drunk, scattered with a bunch of girls, and I left my apartment keys on my kitchen counter.
Jaemin: I’m freezing, Y/N. The rain is coming down sideways and this tree is doing a terrible job of sheltering my broad shoulders. I feel ridiculous.
Y/N: (Staring at her phone in bed, her jaw dropping slightly) Wait, are you serious? You’re locked out? Why don’t you just crash at a motel or Jeno’s place?
Jaemin: Jeno’s room is currently occupied and his phone is dead. Haechan is off the grid. And my wallet is locked inside my flat with my keys. I only have my phone.
Jaemin: I know this is incredibly forward, and you’re skeptical of me. But I seriously just need a dry square of floor to sit on. Can I please stay the night? Just until the morning block opens or someone wakes up to let me into the flat.
Y/N: (Her guarded heart instantly tightening, a wave of hesitation washing over her. She knew his reputation. A fuckboy in the rain is still a fuckboy.) Jaemin... I don’t know. This feels like a very elaborate, high-effort trap to get into my apartment. I told you, I’m not an easy target.
Jaemin: (Sends a live, violently blurry selfie from his front-facing camera. His hair is completely soaked, plastered to his face, his wire-rimmed glasses are fogged up with raindrops, and his nose is literally bright red from the freezing wind. He is compressing his large body into a ball under a single large leaf.)
Jaemin: Does this look like the face of a mastermind? I am literally fighting a losing battle with nature right now. I promise I will be a good boy. I will behave.
Jaemin: I’ll stay on the floor. I won't even look at your bed. The absolute maximum thing I will ask for is a single blanket, and maybe a cuddle if you take pity on a dying man. But mostly just the floor. Please, Y/N. I’m losing feeling in my toes.
Y/N stared at the pathetic, dripping photo on her screen, a sudden, helpless burst of laughter bubbling up in her chest. The sheer absurdity of the university’s most untouchable, mature pre-med heartbreaker shivering like a wet puppy under a leaf on 4th Street completely obliterated her lingering anxiety. It was too real, too clumsy, and entirely devoid of his usual calculated smooth behavior.
Her fierce protectiveness over her people—and apparently, over freezing boys who didn't have their keys—completely took over.
She rolled out of bed, her feet hitting the warm carpet as she quickly typed back:
Y/N: Third flat on the corner of 4th and Elm. Grey door. If you drip mud on my rug, Na Jaemin, I am throwing you right back out into the storm. Hurry up before I change my mind.
Jaemin: Running now. If I die of hypothermia on your doorstep, tell Jeno he inherits my Photoshop folders.
The heavy wooden door clicked open, and the freezing, rain-swept air of the hallway immediately invaded the cozy warmth of Y/N’s apartment.
Standing beneath the dim, flickering corridor light was Na Jaemin. He looked like an absolute disaster. His thick dark hair was plastered to his forehead in wet, jagged clumps, dripping water straight down the sharp bridge of his nose and onto his soaked canvas jacket. But the moment he saw her, he tried to step forward with his usual effortless, cool-guy demeanor—only for his wet boot to slide violently against the slick linoleum entryway. His long arms flailed for a split second, his massive, gym-toned frame tilting dangerously to the side as he tripped over his own feet, catching his balance at the very last second by slapping a broad hand against the doorframe.
Y/N instantly whipped her head toward the wall, violently looking away to spare him whatever shred of dignity he had left. Her shoulders shook as she forced down a massive, bubbles-up laugh, trying to erase the utterly embarrassing image of the campus prince turning into a clumsy cartoon character on her doorstep.
"Just... just come inside before you break my door," she called out, keeping her voice carefully flat as she turned her back to him, leading the way into the apartment.
She purposefully didn't look back at him as they walked down the narrow hallway. She could hear the heavy, squelching wet thuds of his boots behind her, accompanied by the distinct smell of fresh rain and expensive cedarwood cologne. Her heart was doing a strange, hyperactive dance against her ribs, entirely aware of how small her apartment suddenly felt with his large, broad-shouldered presence taking up all the space.
"Stop right there," she ordered, pointing to the bathroom door without turning around. She grabbed a fresh, fluffy charcoal-grey towel from her linen closet and snatched a basket of unused, travel-sized shower necessities—a fresh toothbrush, some premium mint body wash, and a clean comb. "Here. Take a hot shower before your toes actually fall off. The bathroom is all yours."
She reached into the bottom drawer of her wardrobe, pulling out a set of clothing she used for laundry days—a massively oversized vintage graphic t-shirt and a pair of baggy, fleece drawstring sweatpants. She handed the bundle to him, her eyes tracking up his chest until she realized just how much he towered over her in the enclosed hallway.
When Jaemin took the clothes, his large, frozen fingers brushed against hers, sending a sudden, electric jolt straight up her arm.
"Thanks," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly, shivering rasp that sounded incredibly raw in the quiet apartment.
Ten minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open, and a thick cloud of warm, steam carrying the scent of mint blew into the living room. Y/N looked up from her sofa and immediately had to bite her inner cheek to keep from laughing out loud again.
The clothes were ridiculously ill-fitting. The oversized graphic shirt, which usually drowned her, stretched tightly across his broad, gym-sculpted shoulders, the fabric clinging to his chest and highlighting the impressive size of his biceps. The baggy fleece sweatpants were completely defeated by his height; they rode up halfway to his shins, leaving his thick, pale ankles entirely exposed. He looked absurd, a towering, muscular giant squeezed into cozy, mismatched loungewear.
"Don't say a word," Jaemin said, a soft, helpless smile breaking across his face as he walked over, drying the tips of his damp hair with the towel. Without asking, he slid onto the sofa right next to her, his large frame instantly sinking into the cushions and pressing his warm thigh directly against hers.
Y/N stiffened slightly, her intuition instantly going on high alert. "You said you'd stay on the floor, Na Jaemin."
"I lied. The floor is cold, and I'm still shivering," he murmured softly.
He was naturally touchy, a stark contrast to his cold, untouchable daytime campus persona. As they started talking about how Haechan had completely abandoned him at the party, Jaemin leaned in closer, his dark eyes locked onto her face, completely unreadable but intensely focused. Every time Y/N delivered a sharp, sarcastic comeback, a low, genuine laugh would rumble in his chest, and his large, warm hand would drift over, his fingers lightly poking her in the side to break her defenses.
"Stop it," she laughed, flinching away from his touch because she was incredibly ticklish, her loud, uninhibited laugh filling the room. "I told you to behave."
"I am behaving," Jaemin whispered, his voice dropping into that dark, quiet register that made her breath hitch. He didn't pull his hand back; instead, his thumb lazily traced a slow, soothing circle against the fabric of her shirt, just above her waist. He leaned his head back against the cushion, tilting his face to the left—deliberately exposing his sharp jawline to her. "See? I’m completely harmless right now. Just a locked-out student enjoying the company."
Y/N stared at him, her heart hammering violently. He was making her laugh, he was being sweet, and his touch was dizzying—but beneath that soft, cozy sweater-boy exterior, she could still feel the heavy, dangerous pull of the man who knew exactly how to dismantle a girl's boundaries.
The soft, rhythmic patter of the rain outside seemed to amplify the cozy silence of the bedroom. The only source of light came from the projector on Y/N’s nightstand, throwing a massive, cinematic display of the 90s Hong Kong film directly onto the stark white wall facing her bed. Moody blues and deep crimson hues flickered across the room, casting long, dramatic shadows over the sheets.
Jaemin leaned his head back against the headboard, his heavy lids dropping even lower as he let out a soft, calculated yawn. "I think the warm water finally caught up to me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a thick, sleepy morning rasp that sounded entirely too intimate in the quiet space. "I’m losing the battle with my eyelids."
Y/N reacted almost instantly, her protective boundaries snapping right back into place. "Oh, okay. You can go ahead and sleep on the bed. I’ll just grab my blanket and take the couch."
She made a move to slide off the edge of the mattress, but before her feet could even touch the floor, Jaemin reached out. His large, warm hand didn't grab her aggressively; instead, his fingers gently hooked around her wrist, his touch incredibly soft but firm enough to make her pause.
"Don't go," Jaemin said, his eyes opening just enough to lock onto hers with a look of innocent, puppy-like vulnerability. He let his thumb brush lazily against the inside of her wrist before releasing her. "I’ll be lonely out here by myself. Come on, stay. Lay with me. I promised I’d behave, didn't I? I’m a man of my word, Y/N."
Y/N stared at him, her sharp intuition trying to read the sudden softness in his face. He looked entirely harmless huddled in her ill-fitting, high-water sweatpants and oversized tee, but she knew better than to fully trust a wolf in sheep's clothing. Yet, looking at the massive screen, then at the comfortable expanse of her bed, she let out a long, defeated sigh.
"Fine," she muttered, rolling her eyes but climbing back under the heavy duvet. "But cross the invisible line in the middle of this mattress, and you’re sleeping in the hallway."
"Understood, captain," Jaemin smiled, a slow, genuinely amused tilt of his lips as he slid down until his head hit the pillow.
Y/N settled into the sheets beside him, deliberately leaving a cautious, two-foot gap of empty space between their bodies. She turned her attention back to the projector screen, determined to lose herself in the film.
But it was entirely impossible to ignore him.
Even with the distance between them, Jaemin’s presence completely dominated the small bed. Now that he was warm and dry, he smelled intoxicatingly good—a heady, dangerous mix of her own minty body wash blended with the residual notes of his expensive cedarwood cologne and the crisp, clean scent of fresh rain.
Y/N shifted slightly, her eyes involuntarily drifting sideways to steal a glance at him in the flickering light of the movie. He was laying on his back, his hands folded loosely over his chest. In the dim, cinematic shadows, he looked devastatingly handsome. The cold blue light from the projector traced the flawless, symmetrical contours of his face—the sharp slope of his nose bridge, the neat angle of his jawline, and the thick, dark lashes resting against his cheekbones. He looked mature, incredibly calm, and completely at peace.
Her heart did a quiet, treacherous flutter against her ribs. She had spent months running away from the ghosts of her past, fighting tooth and nail to rebuild her sense of safety, convinced that intimacy was nothing but a trap. But looking at the campus prince lying completely relaxed in her oversized, mismatched clothes, keeping his promise and respecting her space, Y/N felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth blooming deep in her chest. He was still a complete enigma, but for the first time in a very long time, she didn't feel small.
The cinematic blues and deep crimsons of the Hong Kong film continued to wash over the dark bedroom, but the tension in the air had completely shifted, turning thick and suffocating. The distance Y/N had carefully maintained on the mattress felt like a joke the moment the sheets shifted.
Without a word, Jaemin rolled onto his side. Before she could even process the movement, a heavy, solid weight draped over her. Jaemin’s massive, muscular arm slid over her waist, his large hand anchoring firmly against her hip as he pulled her backward, effortlessly flushing her spine right against his broad chest.
Y/N’s breath hitched violently in her throat. She tensed up, her lips parting to protest. "Jaemin, I told you—"
"Shh," Jaemin murmured, his gravelly, sleep-roughened voice vibrating directly against the nape of her neck. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss right behind her ear, his lips warm and slightly damp against her skin. "Just watch the movie, Y/N. I told you I was cold."
The sheer, radiant heat radiating from his chest was overwhelming, seeping right through the cotton of his oversized shirt and into her back. He was massive, a solid wall of lean muscle wrapping completely around her, trapping her in a cocoon of mint, cedarwood, and pure masculine gravity. Y/N’s heart hammered so hard she was certain he could feel it against his ribs, but she didn't pull away. Her body felt entirely paralyzed by the sudden, intense friction of his proximity.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, the steady drone of the film’s dialogue fading into background noise as her entire universe narrowed down to the rhythm of his breathing.
Then, his hand began to move.
His large, warm fingers slipped beneath the edge of the duvet, resting flat against her stomach. Ever so slowly, with a agonizingly torturous, unhurried precision, his thumb began to draw lazy, heavy circles over the thin fabric of her shirt. The friction was dizzying. Every slow rotation of his palm felt like a deliberate, psychological assault on her defenses, sending a sharp, electric ache straight down to her core.
Y/N held her breath, her eyes wide as she stared blankly at the projector screen. She knew she should call him out. She knew her fierce intuition should be screaming bullshit, but her body was betraying her, melting entirely into the scorching heat of his frame.
Jaemin didn't rush. He was a pre-med student; he understood patience, precision, and boundaries—and he knew exactly how to push them until they dissolved. His hand slowly crept upward, centimeter by centimeter, his touch so light it was almost agonizing. The heavy circles traced the curve of her ribs, moving with a agonizingly slow trajectory until the edge of his palm brushed against the soft, lower swell of her clothed breast.
Y/N let out a ragged, barely audible gasp in the dark.
Jaemin paused, his fingers hovering just beneath the peak, his breath catching slightly against her neck. He didn't cup her immediately. Instead, he kept his hand entirely flat, applying a firm, torturous pressure that made her breasts ache beneath her top, as if he were fighting an internal battle to stop himself from tearing her clothes off right then and there. His thumb casually stroked the side of her breast, ever so close to the center, teasing the edge of her sanity.
She didn't move. She didn't stop him.
At this point, Y/N was completely hot and bothered, her skin flushed, a heavy, throbbing ache settling deep in her lower stomach. The ambient temperature of the room felt like it had skyrocketed by twenty degrees. Jaemin’s body was like a furnace pressed against her back, his heartbeat steady but heavy against her spine.
The movie on the wall became nothing but a blur of meaningless light and shadow. She couldn't concentrate on a single line of dialogue, couldn't focus on the plot, couldn't think about Eric, or her past, or her anxieties. Her entire world had shrunk down to the agonizing, exquisite torture of Na Jaemin’s hand resting against her chest, and the undeniable reality that the quiet, polite sweetheart from campus was slowly, deliberately setting her entirely on fire.
The slow, torturous friction of his palm against her ribcage stopped entirely. For a single, agonizing second, the bedroom was dead silent save for the muffled audio of the film. Then, Jaemin shifted his hand upward.
With a deliberate, agonizingly slow movement, his long fingers spread across the swell of her breast. He didn't rush to cup her. Instead, the rough pad of his thumb brushed directly over the fabric of her shirt, finding the tight, hardened peak of her completely covered nipple. He rubbed a heavy, localized circle over it, applying just enough pressure to make Y/N’s hips instinctively twitch against his thighs.
A broken, ragged gasp hitched in her throat, her hands frantically coming up to grip his thick wrist. "Jaemin—stop, we can't—"
Before she could finish the protest, a sudden, sharp thud rattled the apartment’s front door, followed by the clumsy, echoing sound of keys jingling in the hallway. Mina’s loud, unmistakable laughter cut straight through the thin walls, clearly still riding the high of the night’s drinking as she stumbled into the adjacent kitchen.
Y/N froze, her heart hammering violently against her ribs, her entire body locking up in sheer panic.
Jaemin didn't flinch. Instead, a low, incredibly dark chuckle vibrated deep in his chest, the rumbling heat of it pressing directly into her spine. He leaned over her shoulder, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below her jaw before sliding up to her ear. He nipped at her earlobe, his sharp teeth catching the soft flesh with just enough pressure to make her toes curl, before his tongue slid over the wet mark he’d left behind.
"Shh," Jaemin whispered, his voice a gravelly, sinful rasp that sent a violent shiver straight down her thighs. "Don't make a sound, Y/N. Your friend might think we're doing something bad."
"Jaemin, seriously, let go," she breathed, her voice completely lacking any real authority as her body melted further into his furnace-like heat.
"I’m not trying anything," he murmured against her skin, his tone dripping with an innocent, mocking sweetness that completely contradicted the dark look in his eyes. He nuzzled his face into her neck, his thick eyelashes brushing her collarbone. "I just wanna cuddle. I promised I'd be a good boy, didn't I?"
But even as the lie left his lips, his hand abandoned her chest.
With a lightning-fast, possessive slide, his large hand flew downward, slipping effortlessly beneath the hem of her loose mini shorts. His palm was scorching hot against the bare skin of her upper thigh. He dug his fingers firmly into the soft flesh, his thumb tracing the high, dangerous line where her leg met her hip, massaging the muscle with a heavy, commanding rhythm.
Y/N let out a muffled whimper, her fingers knotting into the bedsheets as the sudden, raw friction of his bare hand sent a wave of intense, blinding heat straight to her core.
"You're so tense," Jaemin whispered, his breath hot and heavy against her ear as he slowly pulled her hips back, locking her firmly against the hard, unyielding length of his lower body. He kept his hand moving, his fingers kneading her inner thigh, sliding mere millimeters away from the center of her ache. "I'm just trying to give you a massage, Y/N. To help you relax. You've been working so hard lately."
The sheer, manipulative audacity of his words made her want to scream, but as his thumb pressed deliberately into a sensitive pressure point high on her thigh, all she could do was close her eyes and arch into his touch, completely helpless to the heavy, dominant rhythm he was already setting in the dark.
The atmosphere in the room completely broke under the weight of the mounting tension. The slow, calculated pretense of a simple massage vanished instantly as Jaemin’s possessive instincts took over, his breathing turning ragged against the back of her neck.
Without warning, his hand shifted from her inner thigh, using his sheer strength to slide her left leg upward, hooking her knee over his own. The movement effortlessly pried her legs open, placing her in a completely vulnerable, wide-open position while he remained flush against her back. The physical size of him was suddenly overwhelming; he shifted his lower body, positioning his clothed length tightly against her, anchoring her in place so she couldn't move even if she wanted to.
Y/N let out a quiet, trembling gasp into the dark room, her fingers tightly knotting into the duvet as the friction of his clothes rubbed directly against her.
Before she could form a coherent thought, his large hand slid higher beneath the hem of her loose shorts, his palm hot and unyielding against her bare skin. He moved with a heavy, deliberate certainty, his long fingers slipping past the waistband of her underwear until his fingertips found the soft, swollen heat of her clothed clit.
The moment his fingers made contact through the thin fabric, a violent, electric shiver shot straight up her spine. Jaemin didn't rush into a frantic pace; instead, true to his detail-oriented nature, he applied a firm, steady pressure and began to ever so slowly rub his fingers in heavy, agonizingly deliberate circles over her center.
"Jaemin..." her voice broke into a muffled whimper, her head tilting back against his broad shoulder as the slow, localized friction threatened to shatter her remaining sanity.
"Shh," he rasped, his voice dropping into that deep, commandingly dark register as he pressed his face into the side of her neck, inhaling her scent. He kept the pace agonizingly slow, his fingers methodically working through the fabric, teasing her with a precise, torturous rhythm that made her hips instinctively arch back against his chest in absolute submission to his touch.
The agonizingly slow, rhythmic friction of his fingers against the thin fabric of her underwear didn't stop. Jaemin was methodically patient, tracing heavy, localized circles over her center until the heat between them became a slick, burning friction. Y/N's breaths were coming in short, uneven gasps, her thighs trembling against his locking hold as her body completely betrayed her, leaving the cotton soaked through.
The moment he felt how wet she was, the last remnants of the patient, sleepy student vanished. The switch flipped. The quiet, polite aura that defined him on campus disintegrated entirely, replaced by something dark, raw, and scarily dominant.
Jaemin shifted his weight behind her, his large, heavy frame pinning her flush into the mattress. Before she could process the sudden shift in his energy, his thick, muscular forearm slid upward, wrapping firmly around her throat from behind. He applied a steady, unyielding pressure, not enough to stop her air completely, but enough to firmly cut off her voice, forcing her head back against his broad shoulder and trapping her completely in his grasp.
Y/N’s eyes widened in the flickering light of the projector, a sudden spike of intense, suffocating heat flooding her chest as she choked out a muffled whimper.
"I told you to be quiet," Jaemin growled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sounded entirely stripped of mercy. He tightened his arm around her neck just a fraction more, asserting absolute physical dominance over her trembling frame.
With her neck pinned, his other hand became utterly relentless. He abandoned the slow, teasing circles, his long fingers pressing harder against her soaking-wet center, rubbing her with a heavy, fast, and punishing pace that sent waves of blinding, electric pleasure crashing straight to her core. He didn't give her a second to breathe, didn't give her a moment to adjust to the sheer force of it.
As his fingers worked her tirelessly through the damp fabric, Jaemin leaned down, his mouth marking her skin with a feral intensity. He bit hard into the sensitive curve of her shoulder, leaving sharp, stinging marks before sliding his lips up her neck to lick and nip at her earlobe. The hot, wet contrast of his mouth against her skin, combined with the firm restriction around her throat and the ruthless, heavy friction between her legs, turned Y/N into an absolute, breathless mess.
The intense, thrumming friction between her legs reached a blinding, feverish pitch. Y/N’s chest heaved violently against the firm, grounding weight of his forearm around her neck. Her hips arched instinctively, her inner thighs trembling as a sudden, electric wave of heat coiled tightly in her lower stomach, on the absolute precipice of a shattering release.
Jaemin felt it instantly. The sudden, telltale tightening of her muscles and the ragged, shallow catch in her throat told him everything his detail-oriented mind needed to know.
But instead of driving her over the edge, a low, scarily dark chuckle vibrated deep in his chest. It was a wicked, entirely amused sound that made the hairs on her arms stand up.
Without warning, his hand vanished from inside her shorts. The sudden, brutal absence of his fingers left her completely suspended in mid-air, her body screaming for the release that was just a millimeter away. Jaemin effortlessly unhooked his leg from hers and slid backward, pulling his arm away from her throat and instantly stripping the room of his suffocating, furnace-like heat.
Y/N collapsed flat onto the mattress, gasping for air, her skin flushed and shivering from the abrupt, freezing void. She blinked through the dim, flickering light of the projector, utterly dazed, expecting him to shift positions or pull off his shirt.
Instead, the soft, sterile blue light of a smartphone screen illuminated the sharp contours of Jaemin’s face.
He was leaning back against the headboard, completely relaxed, mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed as if he hadn't just systematically dismantled her entire sanity over the last twenty minutes. The terrifying, dominant god from two seconds ago had vanished, replaced by the detached, quiet pre-med student who looked entirely bored.
The sheer, manipulative audacity of it hit her like a slap in the face.
A surge of hot, unadulterated fury completely replaced the lingering ache between her thighs. Y/N whipped around on the mattress, her eyes blazing as she angrily glared at his calm, profile view. Without overthinking it, she swung her hand and delivered a sharp, echoing slap right against the thick meat of his bicep.
Smack.
"Oww," Jaemin muttered. He didn't flinch, and he didn't look angry. Instead, a slow, incredibly smug smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he lazily rubbed the spot she’d hit, his dark eyes finally sliding sideways behind his wire-rimmed glasses to look down at her. "What was that for?"
"Are you fucking serious right now, Na Jaemin?" the words practically hissed from her lips, her chest rising and falling as she scrambled to sit up, her hands clutching the duvet to cover her rumpled clothes. She opened her mouth to completely tear into him, to call out his twisted, predatory little game and throw his arrogant ass right back out into the pouring rain.
But the words died in her throat.
She abruptly stopped herself, her jaw clenching as her own fierce pride and sharp intuition caught up with her. The realization hit her like a bucket of ice water, freezing the anger in her chest.
She was the one who had set the rules. She was the one who had told him, flat out, that he wasn't getting anywhere near her bedroom floor. She was the one who had demanded he behave and stay on his side of the line. He hadn't broken a single literal promise; he hadn't taken off his clothes, and he hadn't forced her into bed. He had played exactly within the boundaries she had constructed, pushing her to the absolute brink of begging before weaponizing her own rules against her.
Jaemin watched the realization flicker across her face, his smirk widening into something genuinely wicked. He locked his phone with a definitive click, tossing it onto the nightstand before leaning his head back against the pillow, completely unbothered, leaving her to stew in the agonizing, suffocating tension he had masterfully created.
The silence in the room lasted for all of three seconds before Jaemin’s low, gravelly laugh broke it completely. It wasn’t his scary, dominant chuckle from before, but a bright, thoroughly amused sound that made his chest shake.
Before Y/N could even slide an inch further away to nurse her bruised pride, Jaemin reached out. His large hand clamped securely around her forearm, and with one effortless, gym-toned tug, he pulled her straight back across the mattress. Y/N let out a sharp “Oof!” as her front crashed directly into his side, her face burying into the soft, mint-scented fabric of her own oversized tee stretching across his chest.
He didn't give her space to scramble away. He locked his long, heavy arms around her waist, tucking her head under his sharp jawline and tangling his legs with hers, effectively trapping her in a suffocatingly warm, inescapable cuddle.
She was absolutely furious. Her chest heaved against his ribs, her hands fists against his chest. But as she lay there, feeling the steady, heavy thud of his heart beneath her cheek, she didn't fight him. Her own body completely betrayed her, melting into the radiant furnace of his frame. She was deeply, utterly surprised by the terrifying effect this man had on her. Usually, if a guy played a game like that, she would have smelled the bullshit from a mile away and kicked his teeth in. But with Jaemin, her usual armor felt like cardboard.
"Get off me, you absolute psychopath," she muttered into his chest, though her voice lacked even a shred of its usual fierce authority.
"No," Jaemin murmured, his chin rubbing against the crown of her head. He let out another soft, vibrating laugh that tickled her scalp. He shifted slightly, leaning down until his warm breath hit the sensitive skin of her ear. "I fucking love teasing you, you know. You’re so loud during the day, but you turn into a complete puddle the second I touch you."
To prove his point, his tongue flicked out, quickly licking her earlobe with a wet, deliberate stripe of pure mischief.
"Na Jaemin!" Y/N shrieked, her hand swinging down and delivering a resounding smack right against his exposed, high-water clad thigh.
"Ow! Sssh!" Jaemin hissed, a genuine wince crossing his handsome face as he tightened his grip around her waist to stop her from swinging again. "Your friend Mina is literally twenty feet away in the kitchen, do you want her to think I’m murdering you?"
"I want her to come in here and help me hide your body!" Y/N hissed back, glare fiercely up at him through a fringe of messy hair. "You are twisted. Seriously. Who does that? You pulled away right before—"
"Right before what?" Jaemin interrupted, his dark eyes sparkling with a wicked, entirely unbothered innocence in the blue light of the projector. He tilted his head down, his face inches from hers, a smug, devastating smirk pulling at his lips. "I didn't do anything wrong. I promised I wouldn’t try anything tonight, right? I’m just a guest who doesn't have his keys. I’m being a perfectly good boy."
Y/N stared up at him, her jaw literally dropping in sheer, unadulterated disbelief. She couldn't believe this man. The absolute, unhinged audacity it took to look her in the eyes and claim innocence after what he’d just done to her inner thighs was mind-boggling. He was a menace to society, a predator disguised as a pre-med sweetheart, and yet, as his large thumb began to lazily trace a slow, soothing circle against her lower back, she found herself burying her face right back into his neck, letting out a defeated, annoyed groan.
"You are a terrible person," she whispered against his skin.
"I know," Jaemin smiled, his voice dropping into that deep, quiet, and comfortingly warm register as he tightened his arms around her, holding her close against the rainy night. "Now go to sleep, Y/N. I promise I’ll behave for the rest of the movie."
The heavy, even rhythm of Jaemin’s breathing vibrated against her shoulder blade, signaling that he was perfectly content, comfortable, and probably on the verge of actually drifting off.
Y/N, however, was trapped in a living hell.
She stared wide-eyed at the blue and crimson light of the projector flickering against the wall, her mind racing at a million miles an hour. She couldn't sleep. Not even close. Her entire body felt hyper-sensitized, her skin flushed and prickling under the heavy duvet. But the absolute worst part was the heavy, thrumming ache settled deep between her thighs. Because he had wound her up to the absolute precipice and then ruthlessly pulled away, her body was left entirely unsatisfied, leaving behind a dull, throbbing physical frustration that made it painful to even shift her legs.
Every time she tried to subtly adjust her hips to relieve the pressure, she was met with an even bigger problem.
Jaemin was holding her flush against his chest, his long legs completely tangled with hers. And right there, pressed hard and unyielding against the small of her back, was the unmistakable, incredibly large ridge of his hard-on. Even through his fleece sweatpants and her shorts, the sheer size and heat of it was impossible to ignore. He hadn't even taken off his clothes, yet the dangerous, rigid proof of exactly what she did to him was branding her skin, a silent reminder that he was fighting his own battles behind her back.
To make the sensory overload completely unbearable, Jaemin hadn't actually stopped touching her.
His large, warm hand was still slung lazily over her waist, his fingertips slipped just beneath the hem of her oversized shirt. Even in his semi-sleepy state, his thumb was constantly, mindlessly rubbing heavy, slow circles against the bare skin of her stomach. The contrast of his rough, warm palm tracing her skin, combined with the agonizing ache down below and the massive hardness pressed against her ass, was driving her to the absolute brink of sanity.
She let out a tiny, ragged breath, her fingers clutching the edge of the mattress as she tried to force her eyes shut. Her intuition had told her he was a dangerous man, but she had never anticipated this—lying awake in the dark, completely paralyzed by the terrifying, exquisite torture of a campus sweetheart who knew exactly how to ruin a girl's night without ever breaking a single rule.
The constant, heavy circles his thumb was tracing over her bare stomach stopped for a split second. In the quiet of the bedroom, Y/N felt Jaemin shift slightly behind her, his chest expanding as he let out a low, rough breath that brushed the back of her neck.
"They say it's bad for your health if a girl sleeps with her bra on, right?" Jaemin asked, his voice dripping with a lazy, entirely unbothered amusement that told her he was fully aware she was still awake and suffering.
Y/N’s eyes snapped open in the dim light of the projector. She tried to turn her head to glare at him, but his arm was locked securely around her waist. "Na Jaemin, I swear to God. Of course I have to keep it on. You are literally lying in my bed right now, clearly trying to—"
"Okay, okay," Jaemin cut her off, a bright, low chuckle rumbling directly into her spine as he tightened his hold, cutting off her heated rant before she could voice the word aloud.
He quieted down for a moment, the steady audio of the movie filling the space between them. But the heavy, rigid length of him was still pressed firmly against her lower back, a constant reminder of the suffocating tension in the room.
Jaemin shifted again, burying his face deeper into the crook of her neck, his nose brushing against her sensitive skin. "But seriously," he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that made her pulse spike. "Can I just... cup them while we sleep? I promise I'll just hold you. It might help us both relax."
The sheer honesty of the request—devoid of his usual teasing smirk—made Y/N freeze. Her sharp intuition scrambled to find a reason to say no, to rebuild the boundaries he had so easily dismantled. But as her body continued to throb with that agonizing, unsatisfied ache, and with his hand already resting so close to her ribcage, the resistance simply drained out of her.
"Fine," she whispered into the dark, her voice barely audible. "Just hold them. If your fingers start moving, Na Jaemin, I'm biting you."
"Deal," he whispered back.
Slowly, deliberately, his large, warm hand slid upward from her stomach. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her oversized shirt, tracing the curve of her ribs until his palm cupped the soft, full weight of her breast, his thumb resting gently against the edge of her bra. He didn't squeeze or squeeze ruthlessly; he just held her securely, his touch heavy and incredibly warm.
Jaemin let out a long, deeply satisfied sigh against her shoulder, his entire frame finally relaxing as he pulled her hips back just a fraction more against his hardness. Wrapped in his solid, muscular embrace, with the intense heat of his hand grounding her, the sharp edges of Y/N's frustration slowly began to blur. She closed her eyes, finally letting the heavy exhaustion of the night pull her under.
—-
The heavy, suffocating tension of the night before eventually dissolved into a deep, exhaustive sleep, the rhythmic droning of the projector eventually cutting off and plunging the small bedroom into absolute darkness. Outside, the torrential downpour had slowed to a steady, rhythmic tapping against the glass pane.
At exactly 5:14 AM, the very first, weak fingers of dawn began to bleed through the cracks of the window blinds, casting long, pale grey shadows across the rumpled duvet.
Y/N woke up all at once.
The first thing she registered wasn't the light, but the intense, blinding heat flush against her back. Jaemin’s massive, heavy frame was pinning her completely into the mattress. His large hand was still slipped beneath her shirt, but his grip had tightened, his fingers dug possessively into the soft skin of her waist. He was awake. His breathing was heavy, ragged, and completely stripped of his usual lazy composure.
Before her mind could fully shake off the fog of sleep, she felt the unmistakable, brutal pressure of his large, rigid length pressing directly into the cleft of her ass. With a slow, heavy, and completely unyielding rhythm, Jaemin began to hump against her, the thick fleece of his sweatpants creating a torturous friction against her loose mini shorts.
A sharp, breathless gasp tore from Y/N’s throat, her hips instinctively bucking against the sudden, overwhelming intrusion. "Jaemin—"
"Shh," Jaemin growled.
With lightning-fast, terrifying precision, his large, calloused hand flew upward, his long fingers clamping securely over her mouth, completely silencing her protest against his palm. He used his sheer upper-body strength to anchor her head back against his broad shoulder, trapping her in an unbreakable, dominant hold.
He leaned down, his mouth pressing hard against the sensitive junction where her neck met her shoulder, his breath burning hot against her flushed skin. "You’re sweating, Y/N," he whispered, his voice a gravelly, deeply depraved rasp that sounded entirely detached from the polite student he played during the day. "Your shirt is completely damp. Can I take your clothes off?"
He didn't wait for her consent. He didn't need to.
His other hand slid ruthlessly down, diving straight back beneath the hem of her mini shorts with a heavy, possessive slide. He bypassed the waistband of her underwear entirely, his long, hot fingers finding her soaking-wet center, which was already throbbing from the hours of neglected frustration. The moment his fingertips made contact with her swollen clit, he began to rub her with a fast, heavy, and completely punishing pace.
Y/N whimpered loudly against his palm, her eyes flying wide open in the dim dawn light as a violent, blinding wave of heat crashed straight to her core.
Jaemin became scarily dominant. He abandoned all pretense of being a good boy, completely discarding the rules they had danced around hours before. He shifted his grip, his thick fingers moving from her mouth to wrap firmly around the front of her throat, gripping her neck hard enough to pin her into the pillows, asserting absolute physical authority over her trembling frame.
As his hand between her legs worked her tiresomely, driving her closer and closer to the edge with a ruthless, demanding friction, Jaemin leaned in closer. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his teeth nipping hard at the lobe before he began to whisper low, demeaning words straight into her ear.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice dripping with a dark, commanding arrogance that made her entire body shiver. "Fucking pathetic. You spent weeks acting so tough on campus, running your mouth about how you don't fall for lines, and now you're literally shaking and soaking wet for me at five in the morning. You’re such a desperate little mess, aren't you, Y/N?"
The humiliating, raw truth of his words, combined with the firm, restricting grip on her throat and the relentless, heavy rhythm of his fingers against her clit, completely shattered whatever boundaries she had left. Y/N could only arch her back helplessly into his furnace-like heat, her fingers clawing blindly at the sheets as he systematically dismantled her pride, leaving her entirely at the mercy of his dark, terrifying control.
The friction between them reached an absolute breaking point as Jaemin’s relentless touch drove her completely over the edge. The heavy, desperate ache from the entire night dissolved into raw, consuming heat, leaving her entirely defenseless beneath his weight.
Without a single word of warning, Jaemin shifted his large frame, anchoring his hips firmly against hers. He discarded the damp fabric of her shorts, and with a sudden, powerful surge of his hips, he plunged his rock-hard length all the way inside her.
The sudden, stretching fullness of him filling her completely made Y/N’s back instantly arch off the mattress. A loud, high-pitched moan tore from her throat, echoing sharply into the quiet dawn of the bedroom. The sheer intensity of the sensation, combined with the suddenness of the friction, sent a violent, blinding shockwave straight through her entire body.
Jaemin didn't give her even a second to adjust to his size. He immediately began to fuck her with a heavy, bruising pace, his hips slamming ruthlessly against hers with a raw, dominant power that rattled the frame of the bed. Every deep, unyielding thrust drove him completely into her heat, pinning her securely into the pillows.
"So loud," Jaemin growled against her skin, his voice a dark, gravelly rasp that sounded entirely stripped of any gentleness. He wrapped his thick forearm across her collarbone, holding her down as he continued to drive into her with an unhurried, punishing rhythm. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered heavy, demeaning words straight into her ear. "Look how easily you took all of me. You spent all that time trying to act so guarded, running from me on campus, and now you're under me screaming at five in the morning. You’re completely helpless, aren't you?"
The sheer physical force of his movements, combined with the suffocating heat of his body and the cutting, dominant arrogance of his words, completely overwhelmed her senses. Tears of pure, unadulterated sensory overload squeezed past her tightly shut eyelids, tracking silently down her flushed cheeks onto the rumpled sheets. She was entirely at his mercy, her fingers clawing blindly at the fabric of his shirt as he ruthlessly dismantled the very last of her boundaries, driving her deeper and deeper into the dark, commanding rhythm of the morning.
Jaemin’s grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back to expose the long line of her neck. He leaned down, his mouth marking her skin with a feral intensity, biting hard into the sensitive junction of her shoulder before wrapping his lips around the flesh, sucking deliberately until a deep, dark mark bloomed against her skin.
"From now on you are my fuck toy, do you understand?" he rasped against her ear, his voice dropping into a low, commanding growl that vibrated straight through her. "I will use you as I please."
The raw, dominant weight of his words, combined with the relentless physical force of his hips, completely shattered her remaining composure. Y/N was entirely overwhelmed, her head tilted back against the pillows as her eyes rolled up from the sheer sensory overload. A thick, breathless sheen of moisture coated her lips, and as he drove into her with another deep, unyielding thrust, a loud, uninhibited scream tore from her throat, echoing sharply into the quiet bedroom as her body completely succumbed to his control.
The relentless, commanding friction of his hips reached a desperate, boiling crescendo. Jaemin’s breathing turned into short, ragged growls against her neck, his entire muscular frame locking up as he drove into her one last time, pinning her hips completely flat against the mattress.
With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself to the absolute hilt and came inside her, the intense, pulsing heat of his release flooding her core. Y/N arched her back helplessly, a fractured, breathless whimper escaping her lips as the sheer physical finality of the moment washed over them both, leaving them shivering in the quiet, grey dawn.
For a few heavy seconds, the only sound in the room was the ragged harmony of their breathing. The suffocating, terrifyingly dominant aura that had possessed Jaemin just moments before vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
Slowly, gently, he pulled his length out of her. The sudden absence left her shivering, but before the cold air could even touch her flushed skin, Jaemin shifted. He didn't turn away, and he didn't reach for his phone. Instead, he pulled the heavy duvet all the way up over her shoulders, tucking her securely into the warmth.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice instantly dropping back into that incredibly soft, sweet pre-med register.
He slid down the mattress, pulling her trembling body tightly against his chest. His long, large hands—the same ones that had just been gripping her throat and pulling her hair—were now incredibly tender. He carefully brushed the damp, messy strands of hair away from her face, his thumb softly wiping away the tears and the trace of moisture at the corner of her lips.
Y/N hid her face in his chest, her body still coming down from the overwhelming sensory overload, utterly confused by how quickly he had transitioned from a ruthless predator into a fiercely protective protector.
"I've got you," Jaemin whispered, his chest rumbling softly against her cheek as he wrapped his thick arms around her waist, locking her into a safe, warm embrace. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, then another right over the deep, stinging hickey he had left on her neck. "You did so well for me. Go back to sleep, Y/N. I’m right here."
Holding her close, his thumb lazily traced soothing, gentle circles against her lower back, grounding her in the quiet morning light until the heavy exhaustion finally pulled them both under again.
Summary | After a break-up with your boyfriend of one year, you find yourself in bed with a handsome stranger you meet at a bar. You pride yourself in keeping your personal and professional life at a distance, never daring to mix the two. That is, until that handsome stranger becomes your new co-worker.
Pairing | Johnny Suh x Fem!Reader
Genre + AU | Romance, smut + strangers to lovers, coworkers to lovers, office romance, secret relationship
WC | 19.7k
Content | Mentions of alcohol and food consumption, side characters (aside from nct members) aren’t based on any specific idols, abusive language from ex, use of Y/N, reader mentions not wanting children, hickies, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, handjob, oral (m+f), creampies, recording, praising, possessiveness, breeding kink, missionary, doggy, mating press, pet names: boss, baby
A/N | I wanted to make this with multiple parts because my original idea could not be posted in just one post without exceeding the post limit. I’m not sure when the next part will be. Also, please note that I do not have any background in business nor do I know anything about how it works behind the scenes, so I tried to make it as simple as possible with the little knowledge I have heh! Let me know what you think & as always, happy reading!
— The Break Up & The Wingman.
“Paying separately or together?”
The waitress questions politely, shoulders tensing as she asks as if she already knows what the man in front of you is going to say. There’s a hint of pity in her eyes when she meets yours, like she knew how this night was going to end the second you walked in with the man you spent the last year with.
“Separately.”
A quiet huff of disbelief leaves the waitress, before she quickly turns it into clearing her throat. You, on the other hand, don’t hide your apathetic demeanor. With a quick hand of your credit card to the waitress, she hastily disappears while you and your now ex-boyfriend sit in silence as those around you continue with their pleasant conversations.
“Are you…okay?”
Your ex partner struggles to meet your gaze, but when he does, he nearly shudders at the way you’re looking through him — like he’s nothing but a tiny spec of dust in the air. This quickly turns into a bitter and stark sound that resembles a laugh upon the realization that his words didn’t quite affect you the way he’d hoped.
“Pathetic.” He whispers under his breath. “This is the exact thing I was talking about! No emotions. It’s like speaking to a brick wall all because of your ego.”
Your jaw slacks open and you run the tip of your tongue against the bottom row of your teeth. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head and a dry, unamused scoff leaves you.
“Did you expect me to be sobbing in the middle of this restaurant while begging you to take me back?”
His jaw clenches and his brows furrow in dissatisfaction. You watch as his fingers tighten into a fist and feel the table begin to shake from his knee bouncing up and down from beneath the table. “If that’s the case, you don’t know me at all.”
With a long sip of the remaining wine left in your glass, your gaze doesn’t falter while the man in front of you seethes in anger at the sight of your calmness. Before he can respond, the waitress returns with your card and the receipt to sign.
“I hope you take this opportunity to better yourself.” The man in front of you lets out as he slips his card into his wallet and then into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Pushing his chair back, he quickly stands. “Otherwise you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.”
Your scoff turns into a dry laugh as your ex-boyfriend pushes past the waitress and out the restaurant doors — the scent of his expensive cologne, that you once loved, now makes your stomach churn. When you look at the waitress, her eyes soften at the sight of your tiny, closed lip smile.
“You seem too good for him.” The waitress quietly comments as you stand and grab your belongings, sliding your card into your purse. “I wouldn’t listen to a word he says.”
“Never planned to.” You assure with a grin. “I apologize for his rudeness tonight. He’s a condescending jerk.” Pulling out your wallet, you hand the waitress a crisp hundred dollar bill as a thank you for the professionalism she upheld throughout the night despite your ex’s awful behavior.
With a swift head shake, she bashfully pushes your hand away before claiming it was too much.
Simply tucking the bill under the bread basket, you give her a final nod before heading towards the bar you’ve been itching to get a drink from since the conversation turned sour very early into the night. Your heels click against the marble floors until you slide into the nearest barstool.
“What can I get you?” The handsome bartender smiles a charming little grin that makes your heart jump for a second, but when you see the silver wedding band on his ring finger, the bubble you’re in pops and you huff a small laugh to yourself.
Of course everyone else is in a loving and committed relationship, except for you.
“Just two shots of tequila, please.” You smile, hiding the disappointment of being single — once again.
Smoothly throwing his cleaning rag over his shoulder, the bartender grabs two shot glasses and fills them up with your alcohol of choice. When presented, you quickly take the shots with ease — letting the sting slide down your throat and warm up your entire body.
“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, but is everything okay?”
You sigh, then scrunch your nose when you look at him. “Bartenders notice everything, huh?”
“Well, either something’s wrong or you really enjoy tequila — and no one really likes tequila, do they?” He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest, his broad shoulders shaking and bottom lip tucking between his teeth.
“I got broken up with tonight.” You dryly chuckle, already feeling pathetic hearing how you sound.
“Ouch.”
“He sucks. I’m just upset I wasted a whole year with him.”
Your bartender’s lips press into a thin line. Without another word, he refills a shot glass with your choice of alcohol. Then pulls out a fresh glass before filling it up again, but this time lifting it up and towards you. “Here’s to a new start, then.”
Lifting your glass, you mirror his movements and you both throw your heads back to let the liquid slide down your throats. You sigh in relief, your body immediately relaxing when you feel the warmth course through you.
“Anything else I can get for you, miss?”
Shaking your head, you give him a quick thanks before you occupy yourself by deleting and blocking your ex’s number, checking your messages, and ensuring you pace yourself to make your afternoon flight tomorrow. After a few passing guests and text exchanges between you and friends, the bartender surprises you by sliding you a martini with a single olive inside.
“What’s this?” You ask with a small smile, stuffing your phone back into your hand bag propped on the bar’s table top.
“Courtesy of that gentleman down the bar.” Your bartender grins, pointing at a young man who gives you a small head nod and a smile hidden behind his whiskey. “Full disclosure though, he’s a good friend of mine and thinks you’re pretty but he doesn’t wanna come over unless you’re okay with it.”
“If I’m not?”
“Then you can take the free drink and I’ll pass on a thank you. If you are, well, everything afterwards is up to you two, isn’t it?” He smirks at you, tucking his hands under his biceps.
You look down the bar, eyeing the way the bartender’s friend casually scrolls through his phone and taking reserved sips of his drink. “And what’s your friend’s name?” You ask aloud, gaze still locked on the man interested in you.
“John.” The bartender nods, watching as you take a cautious sip of your martini. “I’m Jaehyun. I thought I might as well introduce myself if I’m introducing you to a friend of mine.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” You chuckle, introducing yourself before taking another sip of your free drink. “Now be honest with me Jaehyun, does your friend have a girlfriend or wife waiting for him back home? I’m not a fan of getting into drama because a man can’t stay faithful.”
”He’s painfully single.” Jaehyun admits as he quietly laughs under his breath. Looking over his shoulder at his friend, he leans forward onto the bar. “Loyal to a fault, sometimes. He’s a good guy though. I promise you’ll be safe with him. Hell, I trust him with my life.”
”You sound like you’ve known him for a while.”
”Too long.” Jaehyun laughs, his cute dimples making their appearance in front of you. “So, what do you think? Wanna meet him or should I just send him your thanks?”
You pause, pondering the options. But with a sip of alcohol courage, you settle on your answer. “I don’t mind meeting him.”
“You won’t regret it.” Jaehyun playfully throws you a wink and turns to look at his friend. He tilts his head in your direction, a cheeky and knowing smile curling from his lips.
— A Very Charming Man.
The tall man at the end of the bar makes his way to you — dark gray slacks accentuating his long legs, black long sleeve button up shirt wrapped perfectly around his biceps, and a half full glass of whiskey in his hand.
“I’ll leave you two to it.” Jaehyun playfully wiggles his eyebrows after introducing the two of you, then quickly turns his attention to tend to the arrival of new patrons.
With a firm handshake, Johnny locks his eyes with yours as a kind smile curls his lips. Pulling at the barstool next to you, you slightly lean forward and thank him for the free drink he sent your way.
“It’s my pleasure.” He replies, mirroring the way you leaned into him. With a hand respectfully pressed on the middle of your back, he rubs a quick circle before retracting his hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here? Is it personal or business?”
“Both, I guess.” A tiny smile dances on your lips before you take a sip of your drink. “I had dinner with my boy—“ You pause and clear your throat, correcting yourself. “Ex-boyfriend. And I leave for a work trip. This hotel is closer to the airport, hence my stay.”
Johnny nods, then looks past the second part of your response, clearly not there to talk about work. “So, that guy you were with is your ex?” He points behind him with his thumb, gesturing towards the dining area you were previously sitting.
“You were watching me?” You tease, the tip of your tongue pressing on the inside of your cheek. Your head slightly tips to the side and you lightly swivel the stool you’re on, almost flattered by the information he let slip.
Johnny drops his head before rubbing his chin, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Pushing his styled hair back with his long fingers, his jaw slacks open just enough to see the tip of his tongue run across the back of his lower teeth.
“Believe me, I’m not one to look at women who are already taken.” The edge of his mouth lifts into an unapologetic smirk. “But you? You’re hard to ignore.”
Your eyebrows lift slightly and you smile against your martini glass, trying your best to keep your cool while you assume his words are used on every woman he’s interested in.
“Now I’m very curious,” Johnny lets out, palm facing down and fingers sprawled open on the bar’s counter top. “Did he break up with you or was it the other way around?”
“I wish I could tell you I did, but no,” you quietly huff, “he broke up with me.” You bitterly admit, swallowing a big gulp of your alcoholic beverage.
Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, clearly baffled at your words. He shakes his head and chuckles in disbelief. “There’s no way. Did he give you a reason?”
“Many, actually.” You giggle, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth with a slight head tilt, thinking back on your ex-boyfriend’s reasons behind ending the relationship. “I’m too focused on my career and not enough on him. I have to be mentally fucked for not wanting to start my own family. And he chewed me out for not having sex with him for the last three months.”
Johnny sharply sucks in air through his clenched teeth. “You’re clearly the problem. Those are huge red flags, didn’t you know that?” Johnny sarcastically comments, earning a giggle from you as he grins from ear to ear.
“Yeah, it’s totally me.” You press your palm to your chest, feigning a bit of pain as you sarcastically admit to your wrongdoings. “You’re absolutely right. You should run before it’s too late.”
You and Johnny quietly laugh to yourselves just as his hand slowly cups under yours; testing the waters to see if you’d pull away or not. When you don’t, he leans in just enough for you to smell the fresh aquatic cologne he has on.
“If you ask me, it sounds like you scared him.”
“What?” You giggle, unknowingly squeezing his hand. “What’re you talking about?”
Johnny grins, enlighten at the fact you asked him to explain. “Hot girls are always so oblivious.” He lets out, slightly shaking his head just before he shifts his feet onto the foot rail on the stool he’s sitting on. “You’re so sure of yourself, it scares him. Some men can’t handle that.” Johnny playfully shrugs before finally swallowing the last of his drink.
You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, the condensation of melted ice slowly rolling down his long fingers. You tighten your hold on his hand, moving it on the bar top before securing it on your lap. “And where do you fall? Does that scare you, too?”
Johnny’s grin spreads, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. His large hand grabs the leg of your barstool and pulls you closer to him with ease, surprising you with his strength. With your knees fitting perfectly between his, his bold actions cause a flurry of butterflies in your torso and lustful thoughts rush straight to your brain.
“Not at all.” He confidently answers, carefully leaning into the backrest of his stool. “I find it very attractive, actually. I’m even glad he fumbled the way he did.”
“Why’s that?" You giggle as your palm gently rubs up and down the fabric over his thigh. His muscles tense up and you watch the way he casually drags his thumb against his bottom lip.
“Well, for starters, I’m with you right now and he’s not. That itself is a win, don’t you think?” He cockily grins, straightening his posture.
You can’t help but giggle, amused and in awe by his naturally charming demeanor. “Are you always this smooth with your words?” You ask, leaning forward enough to invite yourself into his personal bubble.
You don’t expect him to mirror your actions, but he does and your breath catches when his lips are inches away from yours.
“Only with women I’m interested in.” His gaze falls to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Do you always play hard to get?”
“Only when I don’t wanna seem too eager.” You reply, pulling yourself away. You watch the way Johnny hungrily locks onto your movements before he leans back, too.
“Eager for what?”
You simply shrug and swallow the last bits of your martini.
“It can be a lot of things. You could be eager to have a stimulating conversation or to have someone to help you forget about your ex.” He pauses, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to devour you right then and there. “Maybe you’re eager to sleep with a handsome stranger you met at a hotel bar. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.”
You bite back a smile, looking away from the stranger in front of you — almost refusing to admit how easily he saw right through you.
“Can I ask you another personal question?”
“Sure. At this point, I’m an open book for you.”
Johnny chooses his words carefully before he speaks. “You refused to sleep with him. I wanna believe it’s because he wasn’t good in bed, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely more than that.” You chuckle under your breath, sitting up and straightening your posture. You give Johnny a sigh, scoffing in disbelief as you recall your ex’s words that cut a little deeper than you wanted to admit. “I assume you know what a breeding kink is, right?”
Johnny’s cheeks flood with a pink hue and you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact he’s surprised the words came out of your mouth. “I, uh, not from experience but I’ve heard of it, sure.”
“Well, I’m not fond of the idea of having children of my own, but under the right circumstances the idea of breeding is kinda hot — the possessiveness, the dirty talk, the creampie. Anyway, the idea of stopping my birth control was brought up so he could start a family. I told him I like the act but don’t actually want kids but he told me I was crazy to have the kink and not actually pull through with it.”
Johnny’s expression is unreadable when he looks at you. For a second, you think you've shared too much but he nods, intently listening to your words.
“His pressure to let him come inside me without protection started to annoy me, so I just took sex off the table. I guess it took him 3 months of no sex to finally end it.”
“Wait,” Johnny huffs in disbelief, “he got to come inside of you and still had complaints?” Johnny runs his palm over his face in slight frustration, shaking his head. “This guy is a fucking idiot. Listen, if that had been me—” A low whistle leaves his perfectly shaped lips while he hungrily eyes you up and down. “I’d shut up. Actually, I’d let you do anything you want to me. Might even thank you if I did.”
You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous comment. Playfully pushing his shoulder, you earn a giggle and smirk from him.
Johnny is too charming for your own good — something you know you shouldn’t fall for; something that has ‘player’ written all over it. But you ignore what you know you’re supposed to do because who says you can’t hook up with a handsome stranger you met at a bar that you probably won’t ever see again?
“So,” Johnny quietly interjects your thoughts, holding your hand in his. “Let’s say you did have me for a night, what would you want me to do?”
You pause, tilting your head before your lips curved into a sly smile. “I’ve been in a shitty relationship for a year with a shitty guy who didn’t know how to fuck me properly.” You lean in and he meets you halfway. With your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, his skin begins to prickle with anticipation. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”
He hums a laugh that’s filled with mischief and lust. “My room or yours?” His lips part slightly, hand sliding up and down the side of your thigh.”
“Yours.”
— Room 1409.
“After you.” Johnny smiles, holding his hotel room door open and gesturing to you to step in.
You sharply inhale, slightly nervous about hooking up with a stranger after so long. Your hold tightens around the straps of your handbag before you step into the air conditioned room. You catch your reflection at the full-length mirror near the closet and you take a quick look at yourself — there’s a sheen in your eyes from the alcohol, but to your surprise your hair and makeup are still intact.
“Beautiful, aren’t you?” Johnny whispers, palms sliding over the front of your dark green satin dress wrapped around your torso when his reflection appears behind you. With a swift movement, he twists your body to face him.
You let out a giggle when you nearly trip on your heels. “You’re a real smooth talker, Johnny.”
“It’s easy when everything I say is true.”
His warm palm slides against the side of your neck before his fingers cups your nape. As his thumb brushes your bottom lip, your heart stutters and slow, shallow breaths begin to slip from between your lips. His thumb slides down your chin before settling just under your jaw, hand loosely wrapped around your neck, but tight enough to make you melt under his touch. When your lower back meets the nearest console table, his hips press into yours and your fingers curl around his black button up, silently begging him to come closer.
The second his lips weave with yours, your knees begin to quiver. The tang of alcohol is prominent, but you don’t mind. Not when his hand grips tighter around your throat making you whimper against his lips.
It’s intoxicating and possessive, like you were always his.
His large hands slide down your waist and squeeze your hips just enough to smoothly lift you until you’re sitting on the wooden console’s table top. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw all while his hands roam under your dress, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and slides it down your thighs before slipping the thin fabric in back pockets of his dress pants.
Kissing down your throat, he begins sucking hard enough to leave proof of this night. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls your skin taut to leave a deeper discolored bruise, then another, and another. Pushing your dress up and over your head, he trails down your chest to leave a badge of claim between your cleavage and when he drops to his knees, he kisses down your sternum and your hips.
The anticipation is agonizing, yet it’s the most intense and satisfying feeling you’ve felt in a while. It’s slow, deliberate, but purposeful like Johnny can hear the way your heart pounds against your chest; like he enjoys the way you’re trembling just by grazing his lips over your skin.
Johnny lifts your leg over his broad shoulder while his other hand pushes against your other thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. Tilting your hips, he buries himself between you — licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
You don’t realize the way you’re holding your breath, already feeling light headed as you watch him drag his lips closer and closer to your core. Your eyes flick to the mirror behind him and a spark in the pit of your stomach ignites all while excitement pools between your folds.
When Johnny flattens his tongue and glides it over your slit, your mouth slacks open from pleasure. Your fingers comb through his hair as you throw your head back, resting it on the wall behind you.
His name stutters from your mouth, fingers tugging on his now messy and disheveled hair. He swirls the tip of his tongue over your clit and his saliva slides down, mixing with your slick. The pads of his fingers dig into your inner thighs, burying his face deeper into you and wrapping his lips around your drenched pussy, gliding his tongue up and down all while his gaze never shifts from your reaction.
It’s embarrassing, really, how close you are. Heat pools in your lower back and soon travels up your spine and neck before it floods your face entirely. Your chest heaves up and down, already feeling dizzy from the intensity that’s building faster than you can keep up with.
But that certainly doesn’t stop your hips from moving against Johnny when the tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, selfishly chasing the high that’s so close, you can barely hold on. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling your sultry moans that made Johnny harden under his dress pants. Unsatisfied, Johnny tugs on your wrist and pins it to your abdomen while your free hand grips the edge of the table beneath you.
You don’t give Johnny a warning except for a string of curses that you’ve intertwined between whimpers. Your velvety walls clench tightly, and so do your thighs, as the coil in your lower abdomen snaps. Your body twitches when his tongue runs over your throbbing clit — sucking and gently rolling over it until you’re helplessly trembling from the stimulation.
Johnny smirks against you, then tenderly pecks kisses against your soaked core. When he rises he immediately cups your cheeks, but you’re the one who lunges towards him desperately. He lets out a low chuckle, allowing your fingers to hastily undo his leather belt before tucking your hand into his dress pants.
You grin against Johnny’s lips when you feel his long, thick member hidden behind the fabric wrapped around his waist. Dragging your thumb over his leaking tip, Johnny quietly groans before his middle finger rolls over your clit with just enough pressure to make your hips twitch against him.
His middle finger slides into you with ease, your slick coating his entire finger. When he curls his fingertips, it brushes past your sweet spot and makes your walls involuntarily clench around his digit. Your fist tightens around his shaft, jerking it up and down to mirror the way his finger slides in and out of your soaked cunt.
“This pretty cunt can take one more, right?” Johnny whispers against your lips as the tip of his ring finger probes your entrance, easing its way through your opening and filling your space to its brim.
You eagerly nod, colliding your lips with his. The sting of the stretch soon melts into pleasure, letting you focus on the feeling of pleasure you couldn’t even fulfill on your own.
Your moans turn into shallow bursts of breathless air, chest rising up and down as his rough palm rubs slaps against your aroused clit. The rhythmic movement inches you closer to another burst of pleasure that makes you insatiable.
Your lips part in a silent cry. Your leg mindlessly wraps around Johnny’s waist, hips grinding against his palm, and nails scratching the fabric over his deltoids. His head drops to your shoulder when he feels your gummy walls pulse around his fingers and his breath warms your bare shoulder with a cocky huff of laughter.
“F-fuck me,” you beg, hastily push down the waistband of his underwear and dress pants.
His cock springs up and blood rushes to his shaft, his veins protruding against his skin, and his darkened tip leaking with his thick and clear precum. His large hand guides his tip to your entrance and pushes into you. You already feel the way your body has to adjust to his size when he slowly pops his tip in and out over and over again until every inch is swallowed by your needy little cunt.
Your fingers frantically search for the buttons of his shirt, eagerly undoing the top two buttons before Johnny impatiently pulls the fabric apart — buttons becoming undone as it rips from the threading and falls onto the floor.
The way your palms slide up his chest and across his shoulders to push the fabric of his shirt off sends jolts down his spine and straight to his cock, twitching inside of you. When he allows his shirt to slide off his arms and fall to the floor, he hooks his arms behind your knees then presses his palms against the top of the table console before breaking you open ensuring he’s flesh to flesh with you with every hard thrust. Your breath hitches when he slowly but harshly rocks his hips back and forth until your moans are fucked right out of you. The edge of the table bangs against the wall behind you in a rhythmic pattern to match Johnny’s deep and hungry jerk of his hips.
With every rut, he dives deeper into you — nothing but his tip sweetly kissing your cervix in the compromised angle he has you in. Slinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him closer and catch a glimpse of the reflection of the mirror. The way his back muscles flex with every slam of his hips makes you pant into his ear, which does nothing but gives him permission to fuck you until your eyes roll to the back of your head and you’re barely forming coherent sentences.
Your fingers manage to tug his hair, tilting his head back before gripping his jaw and forcing his focus to shift from his hips to the way your tongue rolls over his.
With a shaky exhale through his nose, he quickly pulls out of you and your legs fall suddenly without his support. He tugs on your forearm and swiftly manages to have his bare chest pressed against your back as he guides you to the bed.
“Bend over.” He commands through gritted teeth, already pushing down on your shoulders.
You don’t object. With your knees firmly planted into the plush mattress, Johnny’s thick tip pushes past your folds once more but this time your juices help glide inside of you as if he belongs there. A deep raspy groan leaves him when he bottoms out, your body jerking forward as he thrusts. His fingers tightly grip your ass for leverage just before he mercilessly ruts into you. His bare chest presses against your back, heat building between your bodies. His soft grunts fill your ears as his lips brush against the shell of your ear, causing your nails to dig into the sheets before burying your face in them.
Johnny chuckles devilishly, gripping your elbows with both hands and pulling you back until the top half of your body is suspended over the sheets. Snaking a hand down your torso and tucking itself between your thighs, he easily finds your sensitive nub between your folds, circling it delicately. “You’re not hiding that pretty face from me.”
You’re not sure how many times you’ve reached ecstasy with the way you’re being thrown in positions you thought you were too rigid to be in. Your body trembles, but you happily push past it with the way Johnny eagerly fulfills your request: to show you what you’ve been missing out on.
Johnny knew when to slow it down, giving your body the most tender kisses and admiration it rightfully deserved. But he also knew when your body craved for more — and more, and more — until you’re tearing from the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation that blurred pain and pleasure seamlessly.
And you enjoy every second of it.
As you lay there, limp and exhausted, a satisfied grin is painted on your face as his seed leaks out of you. Johnny’s plastered beside you, proud and confident as ever. You cuddle into him, feeling his chest rise and fall — clearly still reeling from the dopamine rush that came with spending the night with you.
“I haven’t felt this amazing in years.” You sigh, fingertips gently running up and down the crevices of his abdomen.
“Glad to be of service tonight.” Johnny chuckles as his lips brush against your forehead. “Glad your ex fucked up the way he did.”
“Loser behavior, I guess.” You happily sigh. “Though, I do wish I could see the look on his face if he ever saw your cum dripping out of me. He hated the idea of my other exes doing it. Imagine how pissed he’d be that I let a stranger do it.”
“Why don’t we find out?”
Your head shoots up, looking at him in confusion. “What?” You awkwardly laugh. “What are we gonna do? Invite him here to see this?”
“Not quite.”
Johnny swings his legs off the side of bed and fishes for his phone from the pocket of his pants. Taking a seat at the foot of the bed, he parts your thighs and it’s astonishing how quickly you comply. Lifting his phone in view, you quickly catch on to what he has planned. He presses the big red button to film between your thighs, fingers sliding his seed into you. When he lifts his coated middle finger to your lips, he ensures the camera only catches the lower half of your face, as you gladly suck on his digit until he ends the recording.
“What’s your ex’s number?” Johnny questions as the pads of his fingers patiently wait for your reply.
You repeat the number that you’ve unfortunately memorized by heart and watch him type it into his phone. “Won’t he just have your number if you send him the video?”
“It’s a good thing I’m changing it when I get back home.” Johnny smiles as he lays next to you. He hovers his phone, ensuring you can also see the screen and what he’s typing.
Thanks for leaving her, loser. Never would’ve met her at the bar if it weren’t for you. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. I’ll just breed her until the only name she knows is mine.
The swoosh sound on iMessage is heard and the delivered notification pops up under Johnny’s message. He silences his phone and tosses it to the side.
You giggle, swinging your leg over him before straddling his lower abdomen. With his palms sliding across the sides of your hips, he grabs a handful of your pillowy rear — your skin spilling between his fingers before his tip slides into you again, lifting his hips and sinking into you until you’re stuffed full. Pressing your lips to his jaw, you trail soft kisses until you reach just below his earlobe.
“You should keep your promise. Unless…” you tease between kisses, “you’re all bark and no bite?”
Both you and Johnny miss the flurry of angry texts flooding Johnny’s phone, but neither of you care; not when you’re being shown pleasure in ways you could never imagine until the break of dawn.
❁❁❁❁❁
Who tf is this?
Fucking answer me you little shit!
[10 missed calls]
You’re a little bitch. ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE.
[6 missed calls]
When I find you I swear to god I’ll beat your ass
[4 missed calls]
I hope you get a fucking STD
❁❁❁❁❁
Your internal clock and the sun beaming into the room from the balcony wakes you from your sleep. There’s a delicious ache between your thighs and it takes you a second to process your surroundings, until you’re made aware of the arm that slides across your bare torso and effortlessly pulls you closer to his heated body.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of sneaking away before saying goodbye.” Johnny chuckles — soft, tired, and raspy. Nuzzling the tip of his nose into your shoulder, a gentle kiss adorns your skin.
“I was gonna leave a note.” You playfully counter as your fingers mindlessly rake through his thick and messy hair. “But now that you’re awake, guess I can tell you that I should probably head out to let you pack for your flight back home.”
Johnny groans, lifting his head to see the pieces of clothing haphazardly thrown around the room along with his suitcase wide open with used clothes piled on each other.
“Thank you for last night, John.” You quietly let out, hand gently pressed against his cheek to carefully guide his gaze back to you. “I really appreciate it.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Placing a quick kiss to your cheek, you take that as your cue to get ready to leave. His eyes watch your movements intently as you slip on your dress from last night and search for your underwear amongst the pile of clothes.
“Where’d you put my underwear?”
A tiny snicker leaves his lips before a smug expression washes over him as he leans back into the headboard. When you look at him, he gives you a tiny and innocent shrug. “Maybe if you stay while I pack, it’ll show up.”
You roll your eyes, jaw slacking open with a tiny grin. Your eyes flick to his white long sleeve shirt he wore last night and you swipe it into your hand before wrapping it up around your waist.
“You can keep that and I’ll take this as a memento.” You giggle, making your way to his side of the bed. “Remember, it’s silk. Don’t make the mistake of throwing it in the washer. Hand wash, only.”
Cupping the sides of his face and tilting it in your direction, you place a kiss on his forehead — his eyes fluttering shut at the softness of your lips while his arm wraps around your waist.
“Have a safe flight home.”
Johnny chuckles softly, his arm pulling you in effortlessly and your knees press into the side of the mattress. “You know…I’m a fast packer.”
“Yeah?” You giggle. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“One more time for old times’ sake? I’ll let you be on top this time.”
Letting out a hum and pretending to contemplate the tempting idea, you gently brush your thumbs over the space just below his eyes before a kiss presses onto his lips.
“Let’s have fate decide when we do this again.” You whisper in the space between your lips. “In the meantime, I have a meeting to prep for and you have luggage that needs to be packed. Not to mention, a flight you need to catch.”
Johnny sighs in defeat, then a beat of silence follows before speaking again. “That’s fair.”
Bringing the back of your hand to his lips, Johnny gives your skin a quick peck then brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. Cupping your face with a gentle touch, he pulls you in for a kiss — one of gratitude and farewell all wrapped in the slow movements of his lips.
When you pull away, your forehead presses against his while you catch your breath.
“Take care, Johnny.” You finally let out, pulling away as he playfully tugs on your fingers.
When you finally get enough distance, your hand drops to your side and Johnny’s arm drops onto the sheets covering his bare lower half. Giving him a final wave goodbye, you grab your belongings and head out into the hallway, feeling renewed. Like a night away from your usual strict routine made you genuinely happy — something you haven’t felt in a very long time.
❁❁❁❁❁
Sorry, too busy fucking her dumb to get back to you.
She feels waaay too good to only go one round…or two…or three…
Also thought you should know Y/N says thanks, you helped her realize how bad you are at sex.
And the name’s Johnny, bitch.
[this contact has been blocked]
— A New Place & A Reintroduction.
“So…” Mina sheepishly rocks back and forth on her heel, the wind whipping through her thick dark hair. Her fingers grip the handles of her handbag, the leather fabric tapping against her knees as you two wait near the front entrance of the high rise building you’ll be working in for the next year.
“So…” you repeat suspiciously, waiting for Mina to stop beating around the bush and ask you what’s on her mind.
“That hook up…” she finally lets out, quickly scanning your features for any reaction that would somehow tell her who it was with.
“Mina.” You sternly reply, giving her a look as if to tell her to keep your personal business far from your professional life. “Not now.”
“I’m sorry,” she whines, childishly stopping her feet. “One minute I’m thinking you’re getting proposed to at dinner and the next you tell me you’re single and hooked up with a stranger.”
You sigh, already regretting telling her about your night of fun while waiting at the gate for your flight a week ago. It’s clear to you that this has been stewing in the crevices of Mina’s brain, too scared to ask more details knowing how privileged she is to even hear that you hooked up with someone.
“It’s like something possessed you. It doesn’t sound like you at all:” She quietly comments, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I love it, I’m just surprised. Do you know his name at least?”
Before you could reply, an older man waves and catches your attention. It takes you a second to realize it’s the manager you’ve been in contact with for the past few months — Mr. Choi. He appears with an all too excited grin on his face, already telling you he’s more than excited for this partnership between your home company and the one you’re temporarily transferred to.
“It’s nice to see the both of you again! Come on in, I’ll show you around.” He smiles, leading you towards the bright lobby of elevators. “I’m sorry to hear about the delay in furniture deliveries for the two of you. I’m hoping the hotel suffices until then.”
“Oh it does!” Mina interjects happily, enjoying the room service at the expense of the company account. “This is by far the best hotel we’ve been in and, trust me, we’ve been in a lot.”
A deep chuckle rumbles in Mr. Choi’s chest, arm extending out between the elevator doors as it opens then gesturing for the two of you to step into the cramped metal box.
“We take up the top two floors. Beautiful view over the city, I should add.” Mr. Choi says, sounding a lot like a real estate agent than anything else at the moment. “Our floor is split in two, the east wing—” Mr. Choi looks at you. “Is where you’ll be. The west wing—” Mr. Choi looks at Mina. “That’s where you’ll be.”
When the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the floor to ceiling windows providing natural lighting that spills through the central lobby. To the right of you, you’re met with the two receptions who stand upon seeing their manager.
“Good morning, Mr. Choi.” They greet in unison before their eyes flick towards you and Mina.
Your sights fall towards their lanyard and the identification card that is used to enter the many doors of the building.
“Chenle, Jisung,” Mr. Choi greets, straightening his posture. “I’d like you to meet the newest members of our team — Miss Y/N and Miss Mina.”
“It’s nice to meet you, welcome to the team!” Chenle says, clasping his hands together. “Let us know if we can do anything to make the transition smoother.” The younger man next to him simply smiles and nods before excusing himself when the phone rings, pulling his attention there instead.
You and Mina give the two younger men a warm smile and a nod, but your verbal appreciation is cut short when you’re gestured towards the west wing by Mr. Choi, who immediately begins spewing out the renovation plan to improve the floor even more.
As you’re swept away, you quickly turn your head to let out a quick thank you to the two men you just met. As you do, you catch a glimpse of disdain on Chenle’s face who seems to be burning a hole in the back of Mr. Choi before Jisung playfully punches his bicep to get him back into work.
Just past the restrooms, you see the heavy glass doors at the end of the hallway open up. A man with dark rimmed glasses, a white button up shirt, and dark slacks with his hair perfectly parted into a three-fourths part walks out, his gaze focused on the iPad he’s holding.
“Ah, Doyoung!” Mr. Choi loudly greets, starling the man who stops in his tracks.
The man, you now know as Doyoung, mutters something under his breath before gripping the tablet in his hand and pushing the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Meeting him halfway down the hall, Mr. Choi introduces you and Mina.
“Miss Mina, Doyoung is the person who is going to show you the ins and outs of the west wing.” Mr. Choi informs, watching Mina firmly shake the hand Doyoung extended.
“Can’t wait!” Mina says enthusiastically.
“C’mon,” Doyoung quietly says, tilting his head towards the glass doors. “I’ll show you to your office. It’s right next to mine.”
“And Doyoung,” Mr. Choi interjects. “Introduce her to the rest of the team and catch her up, will you?”
You watch Doyoung sharply inhale. His posture fully straightens before a tight lipped smile forms on his lips.
“I will.”
You watch as your friend disappears behind the foggy glass doors and you’re now left alone with Mr. Choi, analyzing the way his eyes burn intimidatingly while he watches the glass door come to a full close. When he looks at you, they drastically soften and the playful demeanor he’s always presented to you reappears.
“Let me show you to your office.” He nods and the two of you backtrack, passing the central lobby and towards the east wing. Walking past conference room one and two, that’s directly across from each other, you’re guided to a vacant office room that’s filled with sleek, minimal furniture and painted with boring white walls that you’re able to see that’s not covered windows.
“You’re right, the view is great.” You let out, making your way towards the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city below you.
“It’s the best!” Mr. Choi says proudly, as if he’s the one who made it that way. “Across the hall is one of our best employees, but don’t tell him that. He can get a little cocky. He’ll be your point of contact to help you adjust, though he’ll be reporting to you.”
You look out the wide picture window that gives you the perfect view inside the unoccupied office across from yours. The same furniture you have is rearranged into a logical design you learned would be efficient for productivity. On the desk, a stack of Manila folders balanced next to his office phone and a notepad with a few bullet points scribbled on the top of the white lined sheet.
“If he’s the best like you say he is, I’d say the confidence is well deserved, no?”
Mr. Choi chuckles, watching as a disarming smile stretches across your face. “A little humbling would do him good, but I suppose you’re right.” An awkward beat of silence follows before he speaks. “Let me show you the break room.”
You follow Mr. Choi down the hall and enter the large break room with a few lounge chairs and counters filled with a variety of drinks and snacks for anyone’s enjoyment.
“Didn’t expect everyone to be in here.” Mr. Choi said sternly, scanning the room filled with employees who shamefully looked down at the floor beneath them.
The contrast of the chattering then and the dead silence now is stark. You watch as some employees uncomfortably shift from one foot to another while others finish up making their morning coffee. Then Mr. Choi clears his throat, adjusts his posture to his full height and crosses his hands against the small of his back.
“I’d like you all to meet the newest member of our team, Miss Y/N.”
Their sights land on you all at once making you feel uncomfortable beyond comparison. You manage to give them a small wave and they mirror your movements, a quiet wave of ‘hi’ and ‘hellos’ filling the space. The tension is so thick you could slice it with a knife.
“Looking forward to working with you all,” you smile, quickly pulling yourself together — straightening your posture, lowering your hands to your sides, and taking a half step forward.
Mr. Choi takes a full step forward, now placing you slightly behind him. “I’m sure you all have work to start on, right?” He says, an edge to his voice to grab any semblance of power in front of you.
With another step forward, you’re now next to Mr. Choi. The uncomfortable look on the employees face is prominent, making you realize Mr. Choi is purposefully ignoring it.
“I’m sure they’re fueling for the day ahead.” You interject, looking at Mr. Choi dead in the eyes, something you’ve learned from your years in this career. “Don’t we all need a little moment to ourselves and a nice cup of coffee before diving into piles of work?”
You flash Mr. Choi another placating smile with your hand gently placing itself on his shoulder for a second before retracting it next to your side.
“I mean, I know I do.” You chuckle, looking at the rest of the employees. They quickly catch on to your point and each one of them gives an agreeable head nod.
“I suppose you’re right.” Mr. Choi quickly agrees, palm of his hand rubbing the back of his flushed neck. “Again.” He quietly chuckles, sliding his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
Mina appears beside you and so does Doyoung, hand still holding the iPad but this time, glasses tucked into the breast pocket of his collared shirt. Doyoung does his part in introducing Mina who, like always, greets with the utmost enthusiasm.
Mr. Choi’s phone rings, excusing himself to the corner of the room as he takes the call. You take this opportunity to get the names of some of the employees to begin building rapport with them after the awkward initial meeting.
From the corner of your eye, you watch the way Mr. Choi snaps his fingers to catch Doyoung’s attention, his phone still pressed to his ear. He whispers something into the young employee's ear and you know it’s about you when Doyoung’s eyes lock onto yours. Then just like that, the older manager disappears out of the break room and into a conference room for more privacy to pace back and forth.
With a small wave goodbye, the employees disappear into a bigger room filled with cubicles separating them into smaller spaces. Doyoung follows suit, making his way out the door before you stop him.
“Uh, Doyoung—” you call out, stepping towards him. “Can I speak with you…in my office?”
Surprised with your request, he nods hesitantly before both him and Mina follow you. Closing the door, Mina leans against your desk while cranning her neck to take in the boring look of your new space. Doyoung stands in the middle of the room, patiently waiting.
“What’s the deal with the tension between everyone and Mr. Choi?” You blatantly ask, catching the employee in front of you by surprise.
Lifting his hand to the back of his neck, he gently scratches his prickling scalp. His mouth falls open, only to close again.
“Tension?” Mina squeaks, catching everyone’s attention. “There’s tension?”
Doyoung sighs, balancing his iPad on the arm rest of a nearby sofa. “He’s fairly new.” Doyoung begins to explain. “And utterly incompetent at doing his job. A lot of us feel that he’s on a constant power trip and it doesn’t help when he belittles anyone that isn’t a specialist, analyst, or consultant.”
“How’d he get the job?” Mina questions, reading your mind and saving you from asking the question yourself.
“Connections.” There’s an edge of annoyance in his tone. “Apparently, he’s friends with the founder. Though, I highly doubt the founder knows how shitty Mr. Choi—”
The two loud knocks on your office door startle the three of you before the door swings open and you see the subject of your conversation step through the door frame. Behind him stood a 6 foot 3 man with his dark locks slicked back and a killer smirk lifted from the corner of his mouth, lowering his disposable coffee cup from his lips when he locked with your gaze.
“John, this is Miss Y/N.” Mr. Choi introduces, stepping forward and causing Doyoung to step back, settling himself next to his point of contact that’s now lingering by the window and snapping photos of the view. “Miss Y/N, this is John Suh. He’ll be working with you to ensure you’re acclimated to the new environment. He’ll assist you in whatever you need and will be reporting to you as well.”
Your heart pounds against your ribs so hard you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. A knot tightens in the pit of your stomach, anxiety rising when you remember the night you shared — expect now he’s not just a handsome stranger you met at a bar, he’s your co-worker; one you’ll be working closely with for the next year.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Johnny interjects with a smile, feigning obliviousness and giving you a firm handshake like the one he gave the night you met.
“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.” You nod. “I heard you’re the best guy here. I have nothing but high expectations.”
Johnny huffs out a quiet laugh, fingers holding his coffee cup by its rim. “I won’t disappoint you.”
“Good.” You clear your throat, your hands clasping together just below your belly button. “We should probably catch up on the recent projects coming up.”
“We should do the same,” Mina says as she points her finger between the space separating herself and Doyoung. “Walk me through the campaigns and I’d like to see data—”
Mr. Choi chuckles — an unamused laugh that makes a knot twist in your stomach. You didn’t like the way his hand wiped over his mouth or the way he shook his head slightly as he scratched over the stubble he didn’t shave before coming to work.
“What’s funny?” You question, cocking your head to the side in confusion. You look over at Doyoung and take a sharp inhale, bracing himself for the comment the manager is about to make.
“I can’t help but think we’re overestimating the value of our creative department.” Mr. Choi says ignorantly with a dismissive shrug to his shoulders. “I mean, anyone with a smartphone can upload a post to social media.”
Your blood boils, heat rushing to your cheeks and a slight ringing in your ear. Between the surprised look on Mina’s face, the second hand embarrassment in Doyoung’s, and Johnny's tense expression written all over his face, you can’t not say something.
“But what do I know right?” Mr. Choi laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and an oblivious laugh leaving his lips.
Johnny steps forward to defend Doyoung’s team, something he’s done countless times before, knowing Doyoung won’t ruffle feathers with a man as ignorant as Mr. Choi.
But you speak before he can.
“Sir, I hope you’re not insinuating our creative team doesn’t provide an essential role to this company?” You let out, voice calm and steady. “I’d hate to see when a poorly thought out campaign or a post highlighting a failed strategy goes viral. It wouldn’t reflect well on the company or the founder, would it?”
The mere mention of the founder turns Mr. Choi’s face pale, letting your words sink in before uncomfortably clearing his throat. Your eyes lock with his, refusing to be the first person to look away. Mr. Choi feels the tension, beads of sweat forming on the nape of his neck before looking down; your comment about the founder rattling him more than anything.
“You’re right.” He manages to let out, rolling his shoulders back in a lame attempt to recoup. “I will let the four of you get back to work. Please let me know if you need anything.”
And just like that, with no apology, Mr. Choi turns on his heels and walks out of your office and straight to the elevators.
“Well that was fucking rude,” Mina huffs. “What kind of manager says that about any department?”
“An incompetent one.” Johnny scoffs, then quickly apologizing on Mr. Choi’s behalf. “We learned to ignore a lot of his comments. I’m sorry you had to see that first hand.”
“And so soon.” Doyoung adds, his eyes still glued in the direction of your office door.
“Just ignore him,” Johnny breathes, shoulders finally relaxing as he turns to you, then to Mina. “We have a solid team and despite us not listening to him or anything he says, we don’t get reprimanded harshly when we actually do our job well and the higher ups are happy with the results.”
“This is gonna be a shitshow.” Mina exhales, then turns to you with her hand on your shoulder and a playful grin stretched across her face. “Good luck, you’re gonna need it more than me.” When she turns to her point of contact, she pulls him towards the door by his bicep. “C’mon Doyoung! We have a lot to go over.”
And just like that, you’re alone with Johnny. Thick silence fills the room and a prickling under your skin makes you shift on your feet.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Johnny arches a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk as he lifts his disposable cup to his lips. “How’ve you been?”
“Great.” You nod, quickly clearing your throat. “So about those upcoming projects—”
“You go straight to business, don’t you?” Johnny chuckles, dropping a seat on the arm rest of a nearby couch. “I remember you being… less serious than this.” He pauses, crossing his wrists over each other as it languidly rests against his thigh. “In fact, I remember you being more relaxed than anything else. So relaxed, you could barely open your eyes when my tongue—”
The palm of your hand flies over his mouth, pressing your skin against his soft and plump lips and nearly knocking the coffee cup from his hand. With a quiet shush, you slowly retract your hand and shut your office door before closing the blinds that look into the hallway.
“Listen, John.” You sigh, forehead pressed against the frame of your door before you turn to look at him. “Whatever happened between us stays between us and in the past.”
Johnny cocks his head, listening intently to your words.
“From this point, everything is strictly professional. No more flirtatious looks or those little smirks. None of that.”
Johnny can only chuckle. Not dismissively, but amused. The tip of his tongue runs across his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth. Setting his nearly empty cup on the coffee table, he stands to his full height, towering over you.
Your breath catches in your throat, swallowing the words you meant to say.
“You’re sure?” Slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he takes a few steps toward you and traps you between his frame and the door you just backed into.
You simply nod, slow and unsure, but you hoped Johnny didn’t notice the presence of hesitation. His gaze swipes over your blown out pupils staring back at him before dropping to the untucked collar of your dress shirt. His long fingers gently adjust the fabric and your breathing halts, almost afraid any type of movement would silently tell him about the fire ignited in the pit of your stomach and the tingle between your thighs.
When he pulls away, he grabs his coffee cup by its rim and simply flashes you a charming, easy going grin.
“I’ll follow your lead, boss.” He nods once, then goes quiet for a beat too long before clearing his throat. “Do you, maybe, wanna get out of the way so I can show you those reports?”
Heat from embarrassment prickles your underarms, your senses suddenly feeling heightened as you pathetically regain the confidence to finally move out of the way and open the door behind you. The whiff of newly brewed coffee whips through you, the smell going unnoticed until now. The typing of keyboard keys and the playful banter between the two receptionists suddenly feel louder, but don't drown out the heartbeat you hear pounding against your chest.
Johnny snakes from behind you, unlocking his own door. Lavender scent hits you by surprise as you step in; the mist from a nearby diffuser spritzing in a calculated pattern. You watch as Johnny moves behind his desk, fingers working fast to bring up the most recent reports. He glances at you, then pauses his movements.
“You know you’re really awkward for someone who wants to move past our night of fun.” Johnny chuckles. “If you don’t want anyone to suspect anything, don’t be suspicious.”
“This is new to me.” You admit, dropping your arms to your side.
“This position or what happened between us?”
You roll your eyes and a tiny smirk threatening to make its way onto your face. “Working with someone I previously hooked up with.” You quietly say, moving behind his desk to see his computer screen.
He nods, eyes falling back onto the electronic files. “I was worried for a second that you didn’t know how to do your job.”
“I do it very well, thank you very much.”
“So I’ve heard.” Johnny remarks, opening up the files most relevant to this quarter. He looks up at you and you catch a glint in his eyes as a strand of your hair falls before you quickly swipe it away — Johnny being completely enamored by your presence before he could stop himself.
“John.” You softly call out. “The reports, please.”
“Huh?”
You shyly smile, your thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks before gently turning his attention back to his computer screen. “The reports, Johnny. Walk me through them, please.” Slowly retracting your hand away from his cheeks, you watch a wide grin spread across his face.
“You got it, boss.”
— A Note & A Future Lunch Date.
Two months into acclimating to the new company and your new partner, you realize a few things: Mr. Choi is absolutely not fit for his managerial position, Mina has been on a personal mission to get Doyoung out of his introverted shell and stand up to anyone who downplays his intelligence, and Johnny is incredible at his job — so incredible, you’re wondering why he isn’t in the manager’s position himself.
In fact, you find yourself thinking about Johnny a lot — a lot for someone who wants to leave the hook up in the past. The way he tilts his head and holds eye contact when he’s listening to someone speak, how his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek right before his thumb brushes his bottom lip when he’s focused on the task at hand. And the way his fingers curl around—
“Any questions for us?” Johnny’s voice sears right through your thoughts and pulls you right back next to him in the boardroom with pairs of wide eyes staring at the two of you.
“Yes.” The lanky old man that Johnny nicknamed Mr. Cautious speaks up, shifting in his seat as he stares at the color-coded line graph behind you. Using his pen to point behind you, you and Johnny slightly turn in the direction he’s pointing in. “How are you two confident your sales are projected to increase? I mean, not too long ago, this company barely had revenue coming in a few months ago.”
“Rest assured that our predictions are based on the upward trend we’ve been seeing in the most recent weeks. New strategies, more effective and efficient I may add, have increased our numbers drastically and immediately.” You share, taking pride in the strategic plan you and Mina helped implement since arriving — no thanks to Mr. Choi who insisted on keeping the mess of a strategy already set in place until you kindly reminded him the reason behind your transfer.
“I get that, but—” Mr. Cautious interjects, hesitation written all over his face.
“I understand the risk you’re taking.” You reassure, now understanding the reason behind Johnny’s nickname for the man in front of you.
“If I may add,” Johnny interjects, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks and straightening to his full height. He glances over your way before looking straight at Mr. Cautious. “The company Y/N is transferring from has one of, if not the best, business strategies that we've seen in years — the same strategy we’ve adopted just recently and the numbers don’t lie. You can choose now or you can choose to wait, but I fear waiting won’t have much benefit to it.”
“Though I’m sure you already know that, sir.” You flash a charming smile, before glancing over at Johnny who follows your lead and plasters a grin on his face. “You’ll find standard contracts in the folders as well.”
In unison, those in front of you pull out the contract and look it over before signing away. A knock on the conference room door pulls your attention before Mina’s head pops in just in time for her and Doyoung’s time slot with the group. Johnny quickly collects the contracts before you both quickly grab your belongings, say your goodbyes with the crowd in front of you, and head out into the hallway.
“All contracts accounted for.” Johnny smiles proudly. “Even from Mr. Cautious himself.” He lifts his fist to give you a fist bump and you reciprocate, a little ritual you two have when you both have a successful day. “I’m going out for lunch, do you wanna join me?”
“I’m okay. I was planning to use my lunch break to catch up on my sleep.” Cupping your cheeks with the palms to warm your cold hands, you turn to glance at the surprisingly comfortable couch in your office.
“I’m gonna guess you spent the night working.” Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head like a disappointed father.
“You guessed right.” You giggle. “But before you go, I wanna thank you for having my back in there. It’s nice to know I have someone I can rely on.”
Johnny smiles, endearingly stroking the back of your head. “We’re a team, you don’t have to thank me.”
”Sure, but I think it’s still worth noting.” You gently squeeze his arm. “Even if Mr. Choi refuses to admit it to your face, you’re amazing.”
“Well, since we’re dishing out compliments,” Johnny steps forward and leans towards your ear. “I’m glad you're here. You make coming to work worth it.”
You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too wide at Johnny’s words. “Enjoy your lunch John. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Johnny nods, watching you disappear into your office. You catch his eyes from your window and you give him a small wave before shutting the newly replaced blinds that blocked out the hallway lights. Situating yourself on your sofa, you can’t help but replay Johnny’s words in your head until you drift off to sleep.
❁❁❁❁❁
The alarm on your phone interrupts your sleep to let you know that you have 15 minutes left of your lunch break. Stretching your arms over your head, you stare at the blank ceiling to help yourself actively wake up before sitting up on your sofa.
To your surprise, you find a wrapped sandwich, an unopened bag of your favorite chips, a bottle of water, and a handwritten note from a memo pad you have on your desk is sitting undisturbed on the coffee table in front of you.
It’s your usual order. You need the energy :)
- Johnny
You make your way over to your blinds, opening it up and seeing Johnny sitting at his desk chewing on the end of his covered pen before his eyes meets yours. He gives you a small wave before grabbing his notepad and jotting something down then lifting it up for you to read.
Did you sleep well?
You quickly look behind you for the identical notepad and pen to write your response.
Yes, I did :) Thanks for the food, too.
I owe you a lunch date this week.
Holding up the notepad to the window, you watch the way Johnny’s eyes scan your writing and a genuine smile stretches across his face. Pressing his pen to the paper, he writes a quick response and lifts the notepad to his chest.
I’ll hold you to that :)
You quietly laugh to yourself, then nod at Johnny, silently agreeing to his words. Johnny gives you a wicked smirk accompanied by a wink before his attention turns to his ringing phone. You take that as your cue to quickly scarf down your lunch as you clear out your email’s inbox, ensuring to tuck Johnny’s note into your wallet for safe keeping.
— A Rainy Day.
Four months into transferring and the routine of your position is deeply rooted into your daily life. Rolling your neck, you briefly shut your eyes in an attempt to relieve the strain on your eyes from staring at your computer screen all day.
It’s one of those days you haven’t left your office — meeting with people virtually, ordering lunch through an app and one of the two receptions delivering it to you to get a second away from the ringing of their phones, staring out your window at at the pouring rain, and above all being isolated from the one person that effortlessly eased your work stress.
Johnny’s been cooped up in his office for the same reason you are — meeting with overseas partners and clients virtually. You’ve caught him a few times, pacing back and forth in his attempt to stimulate his brain to prevent him from falling asleep during boring small talk he doesn’t care about.
You try your best to refocus on the reports you have left to do before your work day ends. Your eyes gloss over yet another detailed and excruciating report, scanning for information that would be remotely beneficial to you at the moment.
When you finally come across a discrepancy, your body jolts to attention and you use this as an excuse to save both you and Johnny from another minute of boredom.
Your hand flies to your office phone’s receiver to call your partner in the room across from you. Two rings pass until Johnny’s voice is heard on the other line.
“Hey boss, finally caved in to admit you missed me today?” He jokingly says, leaning into the backrest of his chair and tucking an arm under the other.
“No, I—”
“Too lazy to walk in here yourself?” He quickly interjects, head flying up when he sees you through the hallway windows when you stand from your seat, giving him a look that feigns annoyance. In return, Johnny gives you a quick, playful wink as he holds the phone’s receiver to his ear.
“Or did you call to see if I missed you since I’ve been cooped up in this stupid office all day without my favorite person to keep me company. The answer is yes by the way, if you care.”
His words, admittedly, make your heart soar. Your lips break into a smile before you could stop it. “Then stretch those long legs of yours and make your way over here. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Something?” His brow quirks up and a little smirk lifts from the corner of his mouth. “Something delightful, I hope.”
“Not quite.” You hum and scrunch your nose, watching his lips fall into a frown as he hears your words. “It’s about the reports you sent me.”
“Uh oh, I’m not in trouble, am I?” His bottom lip juts into an exaggerated pout, swiveling his chair side to side as he holds your gaze through the glass.
“You will be if you don’t make yourself useful and get over here.” You lift a finger and curl it, motioning him to ‘come here’ before ending the call.
Sauntering over, Johnny appears in your doorway within seconds. “Your insane attention to detail will be the death of me.” Johnny complains, making his way over to you. “What did I do wrong boss? And go easy on me, my ego is still recovering from the last time.”
“Oh please, last time only I pointed out your typos before sending it off to the execs and you acted as if I cursed your entire family.” You roll your eyes. “You’re being so dramatic. Anyway, lucky for you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just have a question about the drop in sales from here—” You point at your computer screen, your manicured nail pointing to the drop in numbers on the table in the report. “—to here and it keeps repeating every year. I’m not planning on having it repeat again, so do you have any idea what happened?”
Johnny makes his way behind you to get a better look at the screen. Bending forward, one hand presses on top of the wooden table top of your desk while the other rests on the top of your backrest. With his cheek so close it could brush yours, you could smell a whiff of his cologne — the same one from the night you first met him.
He hums and mumbles something quietly under his breath before the hand behind you goes over your shoulder and traps you between his body while he uses your mouse and keyboard to search through your inbox for reports Doyoung has sent the two of you.
You can’t help but watch his long fingers move as you’ve taken a liking to them after your rendezvous with him. Your gaze wanders up his arm, admiring the veins protruding against his skin until you glance up at his features — first his angled jaw, then his soft lips.
“What’re you looking at, boss?” Johnny grins, eyes still locked onto your screen. “Your wandering eyes are gonna get us both in trouble.” But from the way he’s blushing, it’s clear he’s enjoying your attention.
Biting the corner of your bottom lip, you refocus on the screen. “Just wondering why you’re so close to me.”
“It’s because you’re my favorite person,” Johnny smiles. “As for the reports, I’ll set up a meeting with Doyoung and Mina for tomorrow to see if we can remedy this dip in sales.”
“Thank you.” You whisper as you turn to him, his lips now inches away from yours.
You’re tempted to kiss him, feeling first hand depravity from not touching him for so long especially when that’s all you did that night. You’ve tried to deny the tension between you two; tried to ignore the flirtatious comments he made that you’ve engraved into your memory; tried to talk yourself out of using that night’s experience to help you pleasure yourself.
But you hold yourself back, again.
After all, he’s your co-worker and you know better than to mix business with pleasure.
“From what I remember, you have another meeting in ten minutes.” You softly let out, ultimately being the first one to pull away.
Johnny looks at the time on the top right of your computer screen and drops his head in disappointment. Pulling back, he straightens his posture and rubs his hands over his face.
“Can I stay here?” He pouts, the inner part of his brows curving upward and his eyes softening. “I can’t stand being in my office alone. It’s depressing.”
“Isn’t that inappropriate?” You tease, swiveling your chair side to side as you look up at Johnny. “I am your senior after all.”
Johnny huffs a chuckle, rolls his eyes, and pokes his tongue against his cheek. “God forbid I took a gap year after graduation to broaden my horizons.” He sarcastically retorts. “You only have seniority over me by one year. You have to feel bad — I’m going insane in my office. I need social interaction that isn’t online.”
“Fine!” You dramatically huff, waving your hand in the air. “You can sit at my desk while you have your meeting. I’ll make myself comfortable on the couch and read over—”
“Thank you!” He happily interjects, grabbing your hand and placing a dramatic kiss on the back of your hand. “You’re amazing.”
You can’t help but giggle, watching as he proudly makes his way out of your office to grab his laptop and other necessities for his meeting, though he ends up choosing to stay with you until the end of the work day.
Four months into transferring and you’ve gotten to see many sides of Johnny — all sides you find utterly charming and endearing; all sides that make your heart race and your mind rattle.
— Out of Town Bar & A Tucked Away Office.
You don’t notice when Johnny walks in.
His suit jacket slung over his arm and long sleeves of his white collared shirt pushed up to his elbows. He runs his fingers through his loosely styled hair that loosened through the day while a sealed pack of cookies are presented in front of you. You look up at the man that’s been on your mind more often than you’d ever admit — and, god, does he look ethereal when he gives you a tired lopsided grin.
“What’s this for?” You ask, picking up the sealed bag of cookies and examining it. “You know that sucking up to me isn’t gonna make me like you more.”
“You know you love me. I’m your life line here.” Johnny grins, taking a seat on one of the chairs placed in front of your desk. “A client gave it to me and I thought you’d like it when your sweet tooth kicks in during the day.”
“What’re you talking about? I don’t have a sweet tooth.”
“I catch you stealing sweets from the break room all the time.” Johnny giggles, resting his ankle just above his knee. “Did you know you walked into the break room five times in a span of seven minutes yesterday?”
“No…I did not.” You embarrassingly admit, biting your bottom lip before taking the cookies and rolling your office chair over to your mini fridge nearby to secure them for future use. “Thank you for the treat.”
“You’re welcome.” Johnny adjusts himself in his seat, lifting his hips slightly to lower himself just a bit.
“You don’t normally stay this late.” You ask, palm resting under your chin.
“Been keeping an eye on me?” Johnny smirks, fist gently pressing into his temple as his elbow is propped onto the chair’s arm rest. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”
“I care.” You quickly interject, looking down at how reckless your words came out. “Is everything okay?”
Johnny simply nods. “Why are you still here?” He questions, looking at the analog clock perched near the windows.
“I got a hot date with reports.” You reply bleakly, pointing your pen towards your computer screen. “I just need to finish a few things so I don’t have to worry about it.”
“Do you have a lot to do?”
Leaning into your chair, you cross your arms and scan the to-do list you have written on a notepad. “Eager to help cut my work load in half, is that it?”
Johnny chuckles quietly, then shakes his head. “Eager to have drinks with you tonight actually.” His words are so brazen and matter of fact, it takes you by surprise; only allowing you to stutter out a response before recollecting yourself.
“No,” you chuckle, “we both know what happened the last time I had drinks with you.”
The fond memory flashes through your mind before you could stop it. The positions he had you in, the marks that remained as a remembrance a few weeks afterwards, and the intense pleasure you felt for hours you couldn’t replicate on your own.
“Plus, someone could see us.” You add, shoulders slumping when you feel a hint of disappointment in your chest.
Johnny sits up, straightening his back and extending his long legs outwards to cross an ankle over the other. “There’s this bar on the outskirts of the city that no one here goes to.”
You sharply inhale, still cautious about the offer.
“Colleagues have drinks with each other all the time, why can’t we be one of them?” He questions, tilting his head to the side and gaze dragging along your features, eyes softening as the milliseconds pass. “We’re friends. Friends have drinks with each other.”
The word echoes in your ears and you don’t expect the simple label to sting the way it did. Friends. The quick, harsh squeeze of your heart makes you sharply inhale before you’re able to play it off with a long exhale.
“You’ve worked hard since you started here and I’d like to treat you to a night out to—” Johnny pauses, buying himself time to find the words he needs to convince you to spend your Friday night with him. “—celebrate everything you’ve done.”
A tiny uninvited smile tugs at your mouth and Johnny notices it.
“Is that a yes?” He quietly teases. “Please let it be a yes.”
You surrender. “My place is nearby. We can leave our cars there and get an Uber to the bar.” You offer, giving into the temptation.
“Smart girl.” Johnny’s lips parted into a cheesy grin before jumping to his feet, rubbing the palm of his hands together. “I promise you won’t regret it!”
❁❁❁❁❁
“How’d you find this place?” You ask. The thin long sleeves of your blouse cling to your arms as you cross them over your chest in an attempt to keep yourself warm against the cool air.
“My friend Yuta owns it.” Johnny says proudly, hand resting on your mid back and ushering you towards the bar’s entrance.
“So you just have bartender friends all over the country?” You giggle, remember the handsome bartender who first introduced you to Johnny.
Johnny grins and causally shrugs. “What can I say? Making connections is my forte. I even have some out of the country, if you fancy taking a trip with me overseas.”
“Let’s get through tonight first before we start planning trips to other countries. For all you know, I could be trouble.”
“Oh I know you’re trouble.” Johnny gives you a knowing glance, standing in line at the entrance. “That certainly doesn’t deter me whatsoever.”
Playfully and gently shoving him, Johnny’s arm slings over your shoulders and pulls you close as you two walk into the establishment. Classic rock from the 80s, 90s, and 2000s plays in the background as the chattering of patrons suddenly fills your ears. Johnny leads you to an empty table, giving you the small laminated menu sitting among the napkin dispenser and the ketchup and mustard bottles.
As you scan the menu, a young man with dark shoulder length hair pulled back into a half up and down updo using hair sticks appears next to Johnny. With one hand cupping Johnny’s shoulder, the other lifts to give Johnny a familiar handshake.
“Hey John, haven’t seen you in a while.” The man glances over to you, giving you a friendly smile to show off his pearly white teeth. “Who’s your lady friend?”
“She’s my boss.” You catch a mischievous glint in his eye when he looks at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.
Your eyes widen and your jaw drops immediately. “I-I’m not his boss. That would be so inappropriate.” You shake your head, palms facing outward and shaking mirroring the way you’re denying his accusations. Your face quickly heats up, the heat traveling down your entire body making your entire body prickle. “We just work together.”
Johnny’s friend laughs loudly. “I believe you, don’t worry. I’m Yuta.” Extending his hand out, you take it and give it a firm shake.
“Oh! You’re the owner.” You gleefully say, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you. How do you know Johnny?”
Yuta scratches the back of his neck. “We slept together in college.” With his quick movements, he blocks Johnny’s punch to his shoulder, telling you they’ve done this many times before.
“You gotta stop telling everyone that.” Johnny shakes his head, pulling Yuta in a headlock. “Tell her the truth.”
Yuta flashes you a smile, hands gripping Johnny’s wrist. “We were roommates in college,” he laughs, “so technically what I said is true.” Yuta finally frees himself from Johnny’s grasp, strands of hair somehow falling perfectly to frame his face. “I had the top bunk and he got the bottom.”
“Huh,” you let out as you looked at Johnny, “I never took you as a bottom.”
“Alright, you two are done.” Johnny shakes his head, grabbing Yuta by his shoulders and turning him away.
“You should get the beer battered fish and chips. It’s our most popular dish!” Yuta shouts as he’s pushed away from the table and towards the bar.
“For the record I asked for the bottom bunk purely because I kept hitting my head when I sat up. I’m certainly not a bottom…” Johnny holds contact a little too long enough to catch a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or have you forgotten?”
Your eyes quickly and bashfully avert away from his gaze, locking onto the menu in your hand. “I think I’ll take the fish and chips, like Yuta recommended.” You let out, changing the subject. “With a beer.”
“Good choice. I’ll be right back.”
Johnny disappears into the crowd, though the top of his head sticks out and easy to spot makes you less worried that you’ll lose sight of him. Taking a glance around the room, you watch the group of people intently watching the white cue ball make its way across the billiards table before strategizing their next move. You glance over the group of people chugging their beers while the rest of the group cheers them on. Your eyes move towards a couple in a corner booth, watching as they giggle to themselves and throwing flirty glances toward each other. You try not to stare, but their nerves are so palpable you could feel it three tables away.
Your attention is pulled towards the unopened bottle of beer in front of you as Johnny takes a swig of the identical bottle in his hand. Without a word, Johnny uses the wide part of a random key from his keychain to effortlessly pop off the bottle cap.
“Are you showing off, John?” You playfully retort with your hand resting under your chin.
”Depends. Is it working?” He smiles, taking another sip of his drink. “I figured it’s better to open your drink in front of you, so you know it isn’t tampered with.”
“Very considerate of you, thank you.”
Johnny simply lifts his bottle towards you and you gently clink your amber colored glass against his. Taking a long sip, you allow your body to finally relax after a long week of work. Johnny makes himself comfortable on a stool across from you, elbows resting on the round table in front of him.
“What caught your attention earlier?” Johnny asks.
“It looks like that couple may be on a first date.” You share, inconspicuously tilting your head in the direction of the couple in the corner booth. “I found it cute that they’re holding hands under the table and it got me thinking about my first date, that’s all.”
“Oh?” Johnny’s eyebrows quirks upward, leaning into the backrest of his chair. “Do tell.”
“No.” You shake your head. “Not a chance.”
“Oh come on!” Johnny pouts. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“And what makes you think I’d want to hear about your first date?” You tease.
“Fair.” Johnny shrugs. “Hearing about another guy being your first anything doesn’t seem like a topic I’d like to touch on.”
You quietly chuckle and lean into your seat. “Jealous?”
“How can I not be?”
Your foot playfully jabs Johnny’s covered calf, causing him to chuckle to himself. Before he could speak up, you’re interrupted by a waiter and the delivery of the food Johnny ordered for the both of you. With a quick thank you, you take a bite of the potato fry that’s clearly fresh out of the fryer.
“Okay, so no discussing first date experience. Tell me what your ideal date would be.” Johnny lets out, mirroring your movements and grabbing a bite of the freshly fried potato.
“What?” You giggle, folding your arms over your chest. “Why would you want to know that?”
“Humor me.” Johnny shrugs. “I’m trying to have a normal conversation. What would your ideal date be?”
His gaze locks onto yours and you bite the line he’s throwing. With a sharp inhale, you lean forward. You follow Johnny’s fingers as he rips a piece of fish from the plate in front of you and dips it into the accompanying sauce the dish comes with before popping it into his mouth.
“A candle light dinner at home and a movie afterwards.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“I took you for someone who’d want to go to a fancy restaurant or something. Maybe take a trip overseas for dinner. Your ideal date seems—”
”Basic?”
Johnny nods, watching as your lips wrap around the opening of the beer bottle.
“A lot of the men I dated loved the lavish lifestyle and it gets old really fast when you realize they’d rather shower you with expensive things than spend time with you.” You let out a sigh. “I know it sounds like a first world complaint, but at the end of the day, it’s a whole lot of loneliness.”
“And that’s why you’d rather have a simple night in with someone that’s genuinely interested in you.” Johnny slowly nods, leaning into his chair and bringing the opening of his drink to his lips. “That’s good to know.”
❁❁❁❁❁
Four beers in and suddenly Johnny’s the funniest and most philosophical person you know; not to mention, a yapper who can go on and on about his growing Pokémon card collection that probably makes him the cutest nerd who has a goldmine of rare cards that would put him on a rob list.
Two beers in and a glass of whisky later, you’re a giggling mess and suddenly sharing more about your life than you’d ever imagined you would — everything laid out on the table for Johnny to pick and choose what to relentlessly tease you about; though he probably would never.
You catch the glimpse of the time, surprised with how quickly it has passed when you're with Johnny. “We should probably head out soon. It’s getting late.”
Johnny lifts his wrist, checking his watch. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” He grins, swallowing the last bits of his drink before pulling his phone out. “I’ll order a ride.”
With your hand on his, you halt his movements. “Let me use the restroom first. It’s a pretty long ride back.” You eye the line of the woman’s restroom, sighing in disappointment as you’re aware of how full your bladder is. “We might be waiting for a while.”
Johnny follows where your gaze falls before tucking his phone away. Standing from his seat, he offers his hand to help you up. “We can use Yuta’s office restroom.”
“He’ll be okay with that?” You question, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way.
“Yeah. He gave me a spare key to his office for nights I get too drunk and can’t make it home. His couch isn’t the comfiest, but when you’re drunk out of your mind, anything will do.”
You giggle, following him down the hall hidden behind the bar. Based on the lack of intervention from the employees, you have a feeling he’s done this a few times short of it becoming a habit.
He unlocks the wooden door with a key he has and ushers you in. When the door shuts, the loud music and chatter suddenly stops. “The restroom is the door on your left. I’ll get a ride here while you do what you gotta do.”
“Thank you.” You smile, rushing off to the restroom while Johnny fiddles with his phone.
When you exit the restroom, Johnny quickly looks up at you from the sofa and jumps to his feet. “Our ride is 10 minutes away.”
You nod, looking around the room and catching the framed photos on Yuta’s desk. One photo of who you assumed to be Yuta and his parents, another of Yuta and his sisters, and another of a younger bar owner and a group of men — one of them being a shirtless younger Johnny with bleached blonde hair and lack of his tattoos that adorned his bicep that you’ve imagined tracing over more than you’d like to admit.
“This is you, right?” You smile, pointing at the photo of him at the beach with his friends. “I wouldn’t have expected you to go blonde.”
Johnny sharply inhales, shaking his head in disapproval of his younger self’s choices. “Spur of the moment type of thing.” He shrugs, using his large hand to cover the photo from your view. “Let’s not walk down memory lane of embarrassing moments.”
You smile, setting the framed photo down where it previously was. “Maybe you should consider going back.” Lifting your hand, you run your fingers through the side of his hair. “I think you looked great.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m very fond of the idea of frying my hair off again.” Johnny chuckles, taking your hand in his. “I just got it back to a healthy state.”
Pulling your hand back, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we wait outside for our ride?”
Johnny glances towards the door, then back at you. Lifting his hand, he gently moves a strand of hair away from your eyes and tucking it behind your ear. “I think you’ll be warmer here.”
Your knees go weak and there’s the flutters in your stomach that you try to bury deep into the pit of your stomach. When you finally meet his eyes, his gaze flicks between your eyes and lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You mumble, suddenly feeling self conscious.
“You’re beautiful.”
“We agreed to be strictly professional.” Your voice trembles when you feel his palm slide down your arm, the conviction in your words slowly withering with a simple touch. “Compliments like that are making me think you’re not holding up your end of our deal.”
“Believe me, I’m trying.” Johnny chuckles, his hand now playing with your fingertips right before lacing his fingers between yours. “You’re just…really hard to ignore.”
His lips press against your knuckles and you don’t stop him; not when he gives you a tender kiss on your wrist or when his lips press into your cheek, and certainly not when his hand cups the side of your neck and he gently weaves his lips with yours.
Warmth spreads through your body while his arms slide across your lower back to pull you closer. Your body arches into him, fingers mindlessly raking through his hair before you pull away slightly breathless.
“I don’t think this is what friends do, Johnny.”
A quiet huff that resembles a laugh leaves his lips before resuming his movements. “Please don’t be mad. I only said that because I thought you wanted me to say it.” He confesses between breaths and kisses. “I thought that’d be more palatable than to tell you how badly I want you.”
A smile blooms across your lips, satisfied with his words. You deepen the kiss — this time your lips frantically moving like you’ve been deprived from his touch for years.
You press against the edge of the desk, feeling the bulge forming under Johnny’s dress pants and heat pools between your thighs. Your hand dips under his waistband, feeling his warm and veiny shaft harden at your touch, twitching as your fingers wrap around his girth. With one full stroke from his base to his tip, he shudders. Your thumb rolls over his slit, his hand cups the back of your head and fingers grip your roots, tilting your head to look at him.
“Tell me you want me too.” He softly growls, his forehead pressing against yours. “I can’t be the only one.”
You grin, slowly stroking his shaft and watching him melt under your touch. “I need you.” You whisper against his lips. “Let me taste you.”
Johnny takes half a step back and you drop to your knees, fingers hastily moving to bring his waistband down his thighs. Before he could take in the sight of you on your knees for him, you envelop his tip between your lips and his jaw drops at the warmth your mouth offers. As your tongue swirls around his sensitive tip, his head tips back and his teeth bite down on his knuckle to stop the noise he so desperately wants to make.
Swallowing around him, saliva runs down your chin as his tip meets the back of your throat. Your eyes begin to water and when you look up at him, mouth full of his heavy cock, your tears spill from the outer corners of your eyes and he gently swipes them away with his thumbs.
“You’re doing a great job, baby.” He coos, the pads of his fingers gently stroking the space under your eyes. “You’re so perfect. Taking me so well.”
Your tummy does backflips and you squeeze your thighs shut, focusing on the bobbing of your head and the swirl of your tongue. Your cheeks hallow around his tip, sucking it until his lips break apart with a moan, jaw slacking and chest huffing up at down.
“My perfect girl.” He babbles, fingers gripping the roots of your hair. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come for you.”
Excitement ignites just behind your bellybutton, sucking on his tip just as you’ve done before. His eyes flutter shut and his brows draw tight. Johnny quietly groans your name, whispering it over and over like a prayer. His cheeks burn and his fingers twitch just before he tightens his grip in your hair.
And before he could stop it, his thick creamy ropes paint your tongue as his body stills, letting his entire body feel the ecstasy you helped him achieve. With a quick swallow of the remnants in your mouth, you pepper his sensitive tip and shaft with gentle kisses.
Helping you to your feet, his lips crash into yours while his hands frantically grope your backside. But before any other exploration could happen, a notification on his phone goes off.
A small frustrated groan rumbles in his throat and he pulls his phone out to see the notification that the ride he’s requested is arriving.
“Everything okay?” You ask, glancing at Johnny’s phone then catching his eye.
“Yeah, our ride is here.” He sighs, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead. “We should probably—” He tilts his head towards the door and you simply nod, quickly readjusting your clothes before Johnny leads you out the door hand in hand.
Johnny slides in next to you, fingers lacing between yours and his head resting on your shoulder. The hints of his cologne mix with the smell of alcohol on his lips, and while you’d find it completely unpleasant if it were anyone else, Johnny was the exception.
And part of you entertains the idea that he’ll always be an exception.
— Apartment 3B.
“Thank you for tonight.” Johnny gives you a lopsided smile, the alcohol still coursing through his bloodstream. “Not just for what happened in Yuta’s office, but for letting me get to know you a little more.”
“Yeah, it was fun. A night away every once and a while doesn’t hurt.” You nod, feeling the cool air prickling your skin.
There’s a beat of silence, unsure of where to go from here. You shift on your feet, looking behind you at the entrance of your apartment building and Johnny glances towards his parked car, fingers fiddling with the keys in his pocket.
“I should probably go.” Johnny’s lips press into each other, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You must be tired.”
A tiny grin dances on your lips. Stepping forward, you reach for Johnny’s wrist as he pulls his keys out of his pockets. He looks at you surprised, lips parting slightly.
“I can’t let you drive after drinking tonight regardless of how much you can ‘handle your liquor.’” You let out, gently tugging on his wrist.
“You’re right.” Johnny sighs, looking back at his car. “I’ll sleep in my—”
You lift your palm to stop him. “You’ll be warmer in my place.” Giving him an affirmative nod, you pull him towards your building’s front entrance before he could object and you refuse to let his hand go as you both walk up to the third floor to your apartment.
As you push open the front door, you feel the surge of anticipation run through you as you blindly search for the nearby lightswitch. When the bright warm colored lights fill the room, you quickly step in and both you and your guest for the night toe off your shoes, kicking them to the side of the entrance way.
“Nice place,” Johnny compliments, “very cozy.”
You chuckle, turning on your heel to look at him. “Thanks. C’mon, I’ll give you a quick tour.” Extending your hand out, he cups his palm into yours but this time, he pulls you into his body – one hand finding your waist while the other cups the side of your neck and his lips hastily find his way to yours once more.
You don’t take a second to think about what to do next when your hands frantically undo the buttons of his long sleeve shirt and strip it off, throwing it haphazardly behind you while he drops his pants to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. It takes a split second to have your clothes in a pile next to the front door, leaving you in your matching garment set.
You’re stumbling through your apartment entrance, finally tumbling on top of Johnny as he falls onto your sofa. Climbing on top of him, knees pressing into the cushions of each side of his thighs, his erection hardens with every minuscule movement of your hips.
“Finally gonna let me be on top?” You playfully ask, trailing kisses against his jaw and down the side of his neck.
Johnny rasps a laugh, arms wrapping around your hips and in one swift move, he’s on top of you — giving you your answer.
“Not a chance.” He hums as the tip of his nose brushes against your cheek just before placing a soft tender kiss on your heated skin. “Now open—” He smacks the side of your thigh, the slap of flesh filling the silence of the room. “I need to taste you after you’ve deprived me for so long.”
You do as he says, spreading your thighs apart as you watch Johnny drop to his knees. Pulling aside the fabric covering your core, he wastes no time tasting you with a long strip of his tongue against your slit. Your head presses into the soft backing of your sofa, fingers raking through his hair as he devours you with no end in sight even when your vision blurs into stars or when your chest heaves up and down, and certainly not when you’re a whimpering mess with your nails digging into your cushion and gripping the edge of your seat.
Your body trembles when he gives you mercy, pulling away with his lips and chin glistening with your slick. You grab his hair, yanking him to your lips and your hands busy themselves with the waistband of the only fabric he has on. Slipping it down his legs and letting it pool around his feet before kicking it to the side, you give his long length a few pumps until his jaw slacks open as he feels all his blood rush to his cock.
Aligning his leaking tip with your entrance, he pushes into you, pressing your thighs to widen your spread for him. And with ease, you take him without hesitation.
“Your cunt is starving for me, baby—” Johnny groans, “begging me to stretch this pretty pussy open until you’re stuffed full with my cum.”
Blood rushes to your face and your heart races. You watch the way Johnny’s blown out pupils scan your features, suddenly making you extremely aware of how intoxicating his movements are — the quick and brutal thrust of his hips, the rush of heat through your body when his tip meets that sweet spot, and especially when his fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you down his cock.
You don’t bother being quiet. Not when Johnny pushes your knees to your chest and traps your body between him and the couch cushions, feeling your pulse pick up in speed and the octave in your moans becoming louder and louder with every pound of his cock into your soaking cunt.
“Scream for me, baby.” Johnny growls, the raw slapping of flesh punctuated by a groan. “Let everyone know I’m breeding my girl. Let them know you’re mine.”
His words only rattle in your head, making you nod and babble like the obedient slut you are. You cry out his name, tears prickling from the outer corners of your eyes as you writhe under him.
“Say you’re mine.” He orders through clenched teeth, hips harshly thrusting into you before stilling, feeling his tip press into your g-spot and making your eyes roll back. “Say. It.”
“Y—” Your breath hitches. “I-I’m yours.”
You mindlessly repeat the words, satisfying Johnny as his hips mercilessly snaps into you until you’re sobbing out how pathetically close you are to the edge; unable to hold on to the last bit of control you’re desperately clinging on to.
Your voice breaks as you cry out his name, feeling your walls tighten around every crevice of his engorged cock. Your eyes roll back, nails scraping down the skin of his back as his face buries into the crook of your neck. You whimper through the pleasure and your desperate noises are enough to make his voice crack on a moan, feeling him empty himself inside of you in sharp pulses. His cock twitches and a gravelly groan rumbles from his chest, pinning your hand into the sofa cushion with his eyes screwing shut and jaw slacking open at the bliss coursing through his body.
When he pulls his heavy cock out of you, the remnants he left behind slowly drip out of you and onto your flushed skin. Johnny smirks, using two fingers to scoop up the spill and push it back inside.
“It's dripping out of you already.” Johnny grins, fascinated with the sight of you limp and satisfied.
“Maybe you should fuck it in me again.” You happily let out as you prop yourself on your elbows. “Harder this time.”
“That wasn’t hard enough for you?” Johnny questions, an eyebrow quirking and his grin spreads wider, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. “I’m gonna have to fix that, don’t I?”
“I think so,” you tease. “Unless you think you don’t have it in you?”
Johnny laughs deep in his throat, a laugh that promises trouble. “Oh you’re definitely going to regret saying that.”
❁❁❁❁❁
The ache between your thighs is difficult to ignore as you carefully pull yourself out of bed to make coffee for yourself and the unexpected overnight guest who laid peacefully with his body heat keeping you warm last night.
“Where are you going?” He groggily asks, one eye squinting as he lifts his head to watch you throw on your silk robe. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving me again.” His sleepy smile sends your heart into overdrive and you give him a reassuring peck on his temple.
“I’m gonna make coffee.” You whisper. “Its also my place, where else would I go?”
Johnny sheepishly smiles, falling back onto your pillow as you walk out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. As you wait for the coffee, the silence makes you think back on the night you had — a night that somehow surpassed the pleasure of the first time you spent with Johnny. You find your giddy state to be slightly embarrassing, but you can’t help but quietly squeal as if you had reached a new level of happiness.
“I love the smell of coffee in the morning,” Johnny yawns, joining you in your kitchen still in his boxer briefs. He takes a seat on a countertop and carefully takes hold of the mug you offer, taking a small sip. His eyes flutter shut, allowing the warm liquid to work its way through his body. “Not the best cure for a hangover, but addicting nonetheless.”
You chuckle, taking small sips of your beverage. “What do you want for breakfast?” You ask, setting down your favorite mug and making your way to the fridge. You pull the double fridge doors open, quickly embarrassed by the emptiness in front of you. “Ah, on second thought—” You let out an awkward laugh before it falters into a fake cough.
“Breakfast is on me. Is delivery okay?” Johnny swoops in, hopping off the counter.
You eagerly nod, delighted by the idea that you get to finally spend the morning after with Johnny.
Johnny disappears into your bedroom to fetch his phone, meanwhile your attention turns to the front door after hearing your doorbell. Peaking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see your elderly neighbor, Mrs. Kang, outside with her lip tucked between her teeth and her brows knitted together.
You quickly open your front door and a wave of relief washes over your neighbor’s face when she sees you.
“Oh thank god!” Mrs. Kang lets out. “You’re okay.”
“Y-yeah, I am. Is everything okay? Do you need help, Mrs. K?”
Your elderly neighbor shakes her head. Her short dark bob swung at her movements. “It’s just, I didn’t hear you come home last night and then I heard these noises coming from your apartment. I called my daughter to see what I should do — if I should check in on you when I heard the noise or call the police right away…”
You nod attentively as you hear her express her concern. A mix of embarrassment about how loud you were and the regret of not throwing on your sleepwear makes you uncomfortably adjust your robe. You hold the fabric together near your collarbones, almost afraid Mrs. Kang could somehow see you’re completely naked underneath.
“…but she told me to check in on you in the morning. So here I am.”
You nervously gulp, suddenly feeling you’ve done something wrong. “I’m so sorry to worry you, Mrs. K. I went out for drinks with a friend of mine and didn’t get in until late.”
“But the noises—”
“Hey baby, do you want a breakfast sandwich or are you feeling—” Johnny’s voice becomes clearer as he appears behind you, still in his underwear, eyes glued to his phone screen, and completely unaware of your neighbor’s presence or her wide eyes when she finally connects the dots in her head.
“Oh.” Mrs. Kang simply says, finally grabbing Johnny’s attention. She bites back a sheepish grin, avoiding eye contact with you and the handsome man behind you. “Ah, the noises make sense.”
“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kang. I wasn’t—I didn’t—I-I’ll keep it down, I promise.” You profusely apologize, using your arm to push Johnny behind you in fear that his half-naked body would somehow send your poor neighbor into cardiac arrest.
“Not to worry, dear. I was young too and had my share of midnight friends.” Mrs. Kang giggles. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you for checking in. I’ll give you my number, that way when you’re worried or need help, you can just call me directly.” You quickly jot down your personal phone number on a nearby memo pad.
“And your name, dear?” Mrs. Kang looks at Johnny who is now using your front door to hide his promiscuous state.
“Oh! Uh, I’m John. John Suh, ma’am.” You catch a hint of redness paint over Johnny’s cheeks and travel down his pale neck. “I apologize for the noise. I told her to keep it down last night.”
With a quick nudge to Johnny’s bicep, you give your neighbor the piece of paper with your number. “I’m so sorry, again.”
Mrs. Kang lifts her hand, palm facing you. A warm smile stretched across her face. “It’s no problem. I’m just glad you're safe."
“Thank you, Mrs. K. Just let me know if we’re a bother or anything. We won’t take offense, I swear.”
“Will do, dear. Have fun you two.”
You and Johnny wave an awkward goodbye before he slowly shuts the door. When he turns to you, he gives you a small laugh under his breath as he scratches the back of his neck. “That was awkward.”
You give him a knowing look, crossing your arm over your chest. “Told me to keep it down last night, huh?” Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts to the side. “Weren’t you the one telling me to do the opposite?”
Johnny gives you a lopsided smile before his palms cup your cheeks, pulling you in to give you a kiss on your forehead. “Back to breakfast, what do you wanna eat?”
“Surprise me.” You mumble into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. “I trust you.”
Cupping the back of your head, he lifts his phone and orders breakfast from a familiar diner that he’s ordered from before, getting the both of you his regular order.
“Now that’s settled—” Johnny tosses his phone onto your couch and swoops you up over his shoulder. A squeal leaves your lips, legs flailing as Johnny saunters into your bedroom.
“What’re you doing?” You giggle as you’re gently thrown onto your mattress, watching as Johnny climbs on top of you. His fingers play with the fabric holding your robe together before tugging at it, watching the silk unravel and slip down your shoulder.
“Having a pre-breakfast.” His devilish grin disarms you quickly, allowing him to spread your thighs wide. “This time, you might wanna keep it down…for your neighbor’s sake.”
— The Morning After.
Walking into the break room, you’re greeted by Mina and her insanely bubbly personality at 7:30 in the morning. “How was your weekend?” She asks, taking a generous bite of a donut that another employee brought in to share.
You can’t help but bite back a smile, fingers busying themselves as they shuffle through the newly stocked bags of veggie chips to snack on later. Spending the entire weekend with Johnny wasn’t something you’d plan, but between the fucking, the cuddling, and the pure bliss of simply being around each other made it hard for either of you to be the first one to let go of the hold you two had on each other.
“It was fine. How was yours?”
Mina babbles on and on about how she rearranged her bedroom twice, had a virtual meetup with some friends back home, and started a rewatch binge of The Big Bang Theory for the 5th time.
From the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar figure coolly sauntering into the room with his hair parted perfectly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, and shining the same glow you’ve had since Friday night. A few morning greetings are thrown his way and Johnny kindly returns polite conversation before interjecting into your conversation with Mina.
“Morning Mina.” Johnny smiles politely, then turns to you. “Morning, boss. Think I could pick your brain before our meeting today?” Johnny asks, eyes locked with yours as if he’s giving you a message only you’ll understand.
“Putting her to work before 8 am? You’re brutal, Suh.” Mina teases, tossing the used napkin in her hand into a nearby trash bin.
“What can I say? I gotta keep her focused.” Johnny laughs quietly, then turns to you. “What do you say?”
You nod at Johnny before wrapping up your conversation with Mina. Following closely behind Johnny, he opens his office door and gestures to you inside. When you hear the door’s lock click, Johnny’s hands find your waist, twisting your body and pressing his against yours.
“So, this is your idea of picking my brain?” You giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling his lips to yours weaving them together like you’d done this entire weekend.
Johnny smiles against your lips, fingers cupping the nape of your neck. “This weekend wasn’t long enough.”
“It’s a good thing you see me here everyday, huh?”
Johnny hums. “And yet, it somehow feels like that won’t be enough.”
With your palms firmly pressed into Johnny’s chest, you pull away from his kiss. “You’re obsessed.” You playfully remark, carefully moving the strand of his hair that’s fallen onto his forehead.
“Come over after work.” Johnny offers, lips leaving a trail of kisses on your cheek.
“Next, you’re gonna ask me to stay the night.”
“Would that be a bad thing?”
You hesitate for a moment, your eyes searching for sincerity in his. Then you realize where you are — at work, with your co-worker peppering you with kisses in secret.
“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, afraid he’s crossed a line he can’t come back from. “I-I’m sorry.” Quickly dropping his arms, he steps away to give you space.
“No, no. You didn’t—” you quickly say. “Maybe we can keep things professional during work hours. The last thing I want is for us to lose our jobs because we can’t keep our hands off each other.”
Johnny nods in agreement. “We’ll keep things professional during work hours. I’ll take what I can get.” He looks at the digital clock sitting on his desk. “We have 10 minutes before our work shift actually starts. Does that count a—”
Biting down on your bottom lip, your hand snakes behind the back of his neck to pull him down to your lips. But just before you could meet his lips, his office phone startles the both of you when it rings and Mr. Choi’s name pops up on the screen.
Johnny grumbles quietly before lifting the receiver to his ear. Johnny greets the manager simply, listening to his words and rolling his eyes in the process.
“Sure, I’ll head up in a bit.” Johnny says before hanging up. He looks at you apologetically, holding your hand in his. “Choi wants me to meet some fresh college grads for an internship here. He says he’s pairing one with me and that I should meet her before the internship actually starts.”
You don’t mean to focus on such a minor detail, but your mouth works faster than your brain sometimes. “Her? Your new intern is a woman?”
You see a small grin tug on the corner of Johnny’s mouth. “You’re kinda cute when you’re jealous. Your nose crinkles a little when your eyebrows—” Johnny reaches to press his thumb against your furrowed eyebrows before you swat his hand away.
“I’m not jealous.” Your attempt to make your words sound less defensive but the amused look on Johnny’s face makes you realize he can see right through you.
“That’s good,” Johnny reassures, “because there’s no reason to be. I’m yours, remember?”
You press a smile as you feel his lips pecking against your cheek. Pushing down the uncomfortable feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, you file this jealous feeling under irrationality in your brain.
After all, Johnny is loyal — to a fault sometimes, like Jaehyun shared. There’s nothing you need to worry about.
Right?
❁ disclaimer | do not copy, repost, translate, or modify any of my writing. do not share my work on other platforms without my explicit permission.
pairing: jeno x fem bodied reader | exes-to-lovers?
plot: jeno was a problem. he was unhinged, violent and not afraid of anyone. you were tired of cleaning his mess and left him. but jeno decided he didn't want to be left alone so when you get locked on the rooftop of a house party together, you might need to break your own rules
word count: approx. 5k
warnings/notes: jeno is supposed to mirror geum seongje from weak hero (that was what anon wanted), i tried my best, jealousy (ft appearance from nct wish's sion), rooftop sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it up), jeno basically coaxes reader to take him back
requested - hello is this thing on *taps mic* can i get uhhh badboy jeno smut (geum seongje vibes iykyk) where reader broke up with him and he's not over it and he kinda corners her to ask her to take him back sorta thing thank u very much hehehehehe
masterlist
the house party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. music pulsed through the walls hard enough that you could feel the bass beneath your feet before you even stepped inside, while people drifted between the driveway and the front lawn with red cups in hand, talking over one another beneath strings of warm lights. the house itself sat high in the hills overlooking the city, all floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive furniture that belonged to parents who were conveniently away for the weekend.
karina took one look at you after you climbed out of the car and let out an unashamed scream.
"oh, you're evil."
you laughed, smoothing the front of your dress. "i'll take that as a compliment."
"no, seriously." she caught your wrist and dragged you beneath one of the driveway lights before you could make a run for the front door. "look at yourself. you knew exactly what you were doing."
your eyes instinctively dropped to the dress.
it hugged you perfectly. your makeup had taken almost an hour, your hair had finally decided to cooperate for once, and for the first time in weeks, you'd managed to look into a mirror without immediately thinking about someone else.
that had been the goal.
not revenge. not jealousy. just... yourself.
it had been exactly a month since you'd broken up with lee jeno. according to every friend you had, that was supposed to be enough time to start feeling like yourself again. apparently nobody had bothered informing your nervous system.
people assumed you'd left because of the fights. because of the rumours. because campus seemed to produce a brand-new story about jeno every other week, usually involving bruised knuckles, broken furniture or somebody making the catastrophic mistake of underestimating him.
none of that had been the reason.
the truth was almost impossible to explain without making yourself sound dramatic.
you hadn't fallen out of love with him.
if anything, that had been the problem.
loving jeno had slowly turned into managing him. every reckless decision somehow became your responsibility, every late-night phone call ended with someone asking if you could come because, somehow, you were the only person he'd actually listen to. every fight followed the same exhausting pattern: he'd flash that infuriating grin the second he saw you, his friends would visibly relax, and before you even had time to process what had happened, you'd somehow become responsible for cleaning up another disaster you hadn't created.
you loved him.
you still did.
but somewhere along the way, you'd stopped feeling like his girlfriend and started feeling like the emergency contact everyone called whenever lee jeno inevitably became lee jeno.
"tonight," karina declared as she linked her arm through yours and steered you toward the front door, "you are legally prohibited from thinking about him."
you glanced sideways at her. "legally?"
"i've decided i'm the government."
"that feels unconstitutional."
"don't care."
despite yourself, you laughed.
"if i catch you looking sad," she continued, "i'm throwing my drink at somebody."
"you say that like you need a reason."
"exactly."
the party swallowed you the second you stepped inside. music shook the walls, somebody was already dancing on the kitchen island, and you recognised at least half the faces crowded into the living room. for the first hour, things felt surprisingly... normal. you danced with karina, accepted two drinks you definitely didn't need, and found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.
that was probably why you didn't notice the atmosphere change straight away.
it wasn't that the music stopped or people suddenly went quiet. conversations continued, laughter still echoed through the room, but something subtle shifted beneath it all. people near the entrance started glancing in the same direction almost instinctively, the way animals seemed to sense a storm before the first drop of rain ever hit the ground.
your stomach tightened before your eyes even followed theirs.
lee jeno had arrived.
he wasn't making a scene. he never needed to. he wandered in with three of his friends, listening to something one of them was saying while lazily spinning one of the silver rings around his finger. his shoulders were relaxed, his hoodie sat half-zipped, and he looked exactly like someone who'd shown up because he'd been bored and decided a party sounded marginally more entertaining than staying home.
then he saw you.
whatever his friend had been saying immediately ceased to exist.
his gaze settled on you with quiet curiosity, travelling from your heels to the hem of your dress before finally finding your face again. he didn't look angry. if anything, he looked... amused.
slowly, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.
you felt your heart sink.
"oh, no," karina murmured beside you.
you didn't take your eyes off him. "what?"
"he looks happy."
that, unfortunately, was exactly the problem.
most people assumed lee jeno was dangerous when he looked angry.
the people who actually knew him understood the opposite was true.
angry jeno was predictable. when he was angry, somebody had usually said something stupid, started a fight or looked at him the wrong way, and everyone knew how the evening was going to end. smiling jeno, however, was impossible to read.
sometimes it meant he'd found something funny. sometimes it meant he was about to do something that would have half the room questioning his sanity. the problem was that nobody, not even the people closest to him, ever seemed to know which version they were getting until it was too late.
you tore your eyes away before you could think too much about it.
whatever expression was sitting on his face wasn't your problem anymore.
that had been the entire point of the breakup.
for the past month, you'd repeated that to yourself so often it had almost become convincing. you weren't responsible for wondering whether he'd gotten himself into another fight, whether he'd remembered to eat something that wasn't instant noodles, or whether one of his friends would inevitably end up calling you at two in the morning because he'd done something spectacularly reckless. those habits were proving much harder to break than the relationship itself, but you were trying, and that had to count for something.
"don't," karina said quietly, following your line of sight without even pretending she wasn't. "whatever's going on inside that head of yours, stop."
you let out a small laugh.
"i wasn't thinking about anything."
"you're a terrible liar."
you sighed and conceded. "i've always been a terrible liar."
"exactly."
she linked her arm through yours and nudged you gently toward the kitchen, where somebody was aggressively insisting that tequila solved every known problem in existence. "one month," she reminded you. "you've survived one month already. don't let one smile ruin all that progress."
"i wasn't planning to."
"good."
"i'm just..."
you hesitated, searching for the right word before eventually giving up.
"confused."
karina looked at you.
"why?"
"because he isn't doing anything."
that made her glance across the room again.
for a few seconds, neither of you spoke.
jeno was still standing near the entrance with his friends, listening—or at least pretending to listen—to whatever story one of them was telling. every now and then he'd nod, or laugh under his breath, or answer with a comment that earned another round of laughter from the group. to anybody else, he looked completely normal.
except every single time the conversation lulled, his eyes drifted back to you.
not in a way that felt territorial.
not even jealous.
if anything, he looked... curious.
like he'd stumbled across a question he couldn't quite answer.
"...okay," karina murmured slowly. "that's actually a little creepy."
you frowned.
"right?"
"he usually would've walked over by now."
"i know."
"or interrupted."
"i know."
"or done literally anything."
"exactly."
instead, he stayed where he was, making no effort whatsoever to close the distance between you. somehow that unsettled you more than if he'd marched straight across the room the second he'd arrived. that would've been predictable. this wasn't. it was as though he'd seen you, decided that approaching you wasn't the answer, and settled for quietly observing instead.
the thought shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did.
you looked away, determined to enjoy the rest of the evening, and for a while it worked. somebody handed you another drink, a girl from one of your tutorials dragged you into a conversation about exams, and the noise of the party gradually swallowed your thoughts again.
then, almost absentmindedly, you looked up.
your eyes found him immediately.
he hadn't moved.
worse still, he smiled the second he realised you'd looked back.
he hadn't moved.
worse still, he smiled the second he realised you'd looked back.
it wasn't smug, and that somehow made it infinitely more irritating. there wasn't a trace of triumph in it, no silent caught you. if anything, he looked... pleased. like you'd just confirmed something he'd been quietly wondering about all evening.
you immediately looked away again.
"absolutely not," you muttered under your breath.
"i'm getting another drink," karina announced suddenly. "do you want one?"
you looked down at the cup still half-full in your hand.
"i'm good."
"don't disappear."
you smiled.
"i'll try."
"i mean it."
"rina."
"what?"
"he's not going to kidnap me."
she looked across the room at jeno before looking back at you.
"...i'm not completely ruling it out."
you laughed despite yourself, shaking your head as she wandered toward the kitchen.
left on your own, you leaned lightly against the edge of the dining table and took another sip of your drink, letting the noise of the party settle around you again. conversations overlapped from every direction, somebody near the speakers was passionately arguing that the playlist had peaked an hour ago, and a group of seniors had somehow convinced themselves they could play beer pong using decorative crystal glasses borrowed from the host's parents.
it almost felt normal again.
almost.
your gaze wandered before you could stop it.
this time, you found him laughing.
one of his friends had apparently just finished telling a story, and jeno tilted his head back with an easy grin that looked so effortless it caught you off guard. it wasn't the laugh that surprised you—you'd always known he laughed easily—but the way it disappeared almost immediately after.
his eyes searched the room.
they found you.
and just like that, everything else ceased to exist.
he didn't wave.
didn't gesture for you to come over.
didn't even acknowledge that you'd caught him looking.
he simply held your gaze for a few quiet seconds before lifting his cup in the smallest, almost imperceptible salute.
the gesture was so casual, so absurdly normal, that you found yourself staring before you realised what you were doing.
he smiled again.
then, as though completely satisfied with whatever conclusion he'd reached, he turned back to his friends and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened at all.
you frowned.
"what on earth are you doing?" you murmured to yourself.
for the first time since the breakup, you realised something that made your stomach twist.
you understood jeno when he was loud.
you understood him when he was reckless.
you understood him when he was impossible.
this version of him—
quiet.
patient.
content to simply watch—
you had absolutely no idea what to do with.
you'd barely finished your second drink when someone called your name from behind.
turning around, you found a vaguely familiar face smiling at you.
"i knew that was you."
you frowned for a second before recognition finally clicked.
"sion?"
"thank god." he laughed, pressing a hand dramatically against his chest. "i was starting to think i'd have to pretend i wasn't talking to you."
you couldn't help smiling.
"sorry. you look different without a laptop in front of you."
"i'll choose to take that as a compliment."
"please don't."
he laughed again before leaning casually against the kitchen island beside you.
"i didn't know you knew the host."
"i don't."
"...that's reassuring."
"karina does."
"ah."
he nodded thoughtfully.
"that makes significantly more sense."
for the first time all evening, the conversation came easily.
sion was exactly how you remembered him from class—easygoing, a little awkward, and incapable of telling a story without getting distracted halfway through. he had a habit of laughing at his own jokes before reaching the punchline, which somehow made you laugh even harder.
"...and then i realised i'd been defending the wrong presentation for almost fifteen minutes."
you stared at him.
"you're kidding."
"i wish."
"what happened?"
"she just looked at me and said..." he lowered his voice into a painfully accurate impression of your lecturer. "'mr oh, while your confidence is admirable, this isn't your assignment.'"
you burst out laughing.
"no."
"yes."
"please tell me you're lying."
"i've never wanted to disappear more in my life."
you shook your head, still smiling.
"that's actually tragic."
"thank you. i needed someone to appreciate my suffering."
"i appreciate it immensely."
"good."
he pointed at you.
"because i'm still emotionally recovering."
your laughter faded into an easy smile.
it felt...
normal.
refreshingly so.
there were no rumours attached to sion. nobody lowered their voice when they said his name. nobody instinctively stepped aside when he walked into a room. talking to him didn't feel like standing next to a lit match.
it just felt easy.
"...can i ask you something?"
"sure."
"did you actually understand today's lecture?"
you groaned.
"don't even remind me."
"so that's a no."
"i understood maybe thirty percent of it."
"perfect."
he looked genuinely relieved.
"i was worried i was just stupid."
"i've got terrible news for you."
his face fell.
"what?"
"i understood thirty percent because i stopped listening after the first twenty minutes."
he stared at you for a second before laughing.
"okay, that's fair."
without thinking, he reached over and lightly nudged your arm.
"see? i knew talking to you would make me feel better."
the gesture barely registered.
it was casual.
friendly.
completely innocent.
but somewhere across the room—
jeno noticed.
his conversation stopped mid-sentence.
not long enough for his friends to notice.
just long enough for his eyes to drift toward the hand resting briefly against your arm.
his expression didn't change.
if anything, the smile remained exactly where it had been.
which, somehow, made it worse.
he watched as you laughed at something sion had said, tilting your head back the same way you always did when you found something genuinely funny.
he'd seen that laugh a hundred times.
he'd never realised how loud your laugh was until it belonged to someone else's conversation.
a sudden commotion near the entrance pulled you out of your thoughts.
heads turned almost instinctively.
someone had bumped into jeno.
it wasn't much. a shoulder clipping his arm as they squeezed through the crowd, enough to send a little of the drink in the boy's hand sloshing over the rim of the cup.
the first-year froze immediately.
"s-sorry."
you recognised him almost at once.
a first-year from the business faculty.
a few months ago, he'd accidentally spilled coffee over jeno's trainers outside one of the lecture halls. before you'd managed to step in, jeno had already grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard enough into the lockers to leave half the corridor staring. you still remembered the look on the poor boy's face when you'd pulled jeno away, somewhere between terrified and completely convinced he was about to die.
apparently he remembered too.
because instead of looking at jeno, the first-year's eyes darted straight to you.
almost instinctively.
like he was checking whether you were close enough to stop whatever came next.
jeno noticed. of course he noticed. his gaze flickered briefly toward you before settling back on the boy.
for a second, nobody moved. one of his friends had already gone quiet.
the people closest to them had taken a subtle step backwards.
everyone was waiting.
waiting to see which version of jeno had shown up tonight.
"watch where you're going," he said flatly.
"s-sorry, i didn't—"
"yeah."
another pause. the boy looked ready to apologise another five times.
instead, jeno jerked his chin toward the hallway.
"get lost."
the first-year blinked.
"...what?"
"you heard me."
the boy didn't need telling twice. he muttered another apology before practically disappearing into the crowd.
the people nearby exchanged confused glances before slowly returning to their own conversations, the tension dissolving almost as quickly as it'd appeared.
you couldn't stop staring.
that...
wasn't what you expected.
he caught your expression from across the room. one corner of his mouth lifted. almost like he already knew what you were thinking.
and somehow, that irritated you even more.
because a month ago, he would've thrown the first punch.
tonight, he'd simply let the boy walk away.
you weren't sure which version unsettled you more.
it irritated you enough that eventually you decided you needed air before you snapped.
without telling anyone, you slipped upstairs and climbed the narrow staircase leading to the rooftop terrace. the cool night breeze hit your skin immediately when you stepped outside, and you closed your eyes for a second in relief.
finally.
quiet.
the city lights stretched endlessly beneath the rooftop, glowing gold against the darkness. you walked toward the railing and rested your arms against it, trying to calm the frustration buzzing beneath your skin.
the rooftop door opened behind you less than a minute later.
you didn’t even turn around. you recognised the smell of that cologne anywhere, a custom mix of two different ones because jeno couldn't decide which one he liked better.
“you’re unbelievable,” you said flatly.
jeno shut the door behind him. “you disappeared.”
“i came upstairs for five seconds.”
“you left with no jacket.”
you laughed once under your breath and turned toward him. “you're fucking kidding me.”
his gaze moved over you again, slower this time, and it made your entire body tense in annoyance because even after everything, he still knew exactly how to look at you in a way that made you feel too aware of yourself.
“that dress is too short.”
“there it is.”
“you tryna get someone’s attention?”
“i wore it because i look good.”
“you do.”
the answer came immediately. it irritated you more than if he had insulted you.
you folded your arms. “what do you want?”
jeno walked closer until he stood only a few feet away from you. “to talk.”
“we’ve had this conversation already.”
“no, you talked. then you blocked me on everything.”
“because we broke up.”
his jaw tightened slightly.
“you keep saying that like i agreed to it.”
you stared at him in disbelief. “you don’t get to disagree with a breakup, jeno.”
“watch me.”
“oh my god.”
you pushed yourself off the railing. “this is exactly why i left you. you’re insane.”
his expression barely changed. “you still love me.”
“that’s not the point.”
“so you do.”
“i didn’t say that.”
“you didn’t deny it either.”
you groaned in frustration and headed toward the rooftop door. “i’m done with this conversation.”
but the second you grabbed the handle and twisted, your expression changed.
the door didn’t move.
you frowned and pulled harder.
locked.
“what the hell?”
jeno walked over behind you slowly. too slowly.
you turned immediately. “did you do this?”
“what?”
“the door is locked.”
he reached past you and tested the handle himself with an annoyingly convincing look of confusion. “huh.”
you narrowed your eyes. “you are such a liar.”
“i didn’t lock it.”
“did you tell one of your idiot friends to do it?”
“no.”
a pause.
“jeno.”
“what? maybe it’s fate. you keep running away from me.”
“because i don’t want to talk to you.”
“you’re talking now.”
you shoved his shoulder hard, but he barely moved.
“you’re actually crazy.”
“and you’re still beautiful when you’re angry.”
you glared at him. “i hate you.”
“no, you don’t.”
the confidence in his voice made your blood boil because the worst part was that he genuinely believed it.
jeno leaned against the rooftop door casually while looking down at you, completely unbothered by the fact that you were seconds away from losing your temper.
“you’ve been avoiding me for a month.”
“thanks for stating the obvious.”
“you ignore my texts.”
“that’s the point.”
“you were real friendly with the guy downstairs."
you scoffed. “you mean the normal guy who doesn’t threaten people for fun?”
his eyes darkened instantly.
“was he funny?"
“oh my god, who cares?”
“i care.”
“well, stop.”
for the first time that night, something genuinely angry flashed across his face.
“you think i’m just supposed to watch you move on?”
“well yes.”
the answer came so quickly it stunned him into silence for a second.
and suddenly you could see it clearly — the exhaustion beneath his anger, the sleeplessness in his eyes, the way his hands flexed like he was physically restraining himself from grabbing you and pulling you against him like he used to.
“you really don’t give a shit anymore?” he asked quietly.
your chest tightened despite yourself.
because that wasn’t true.
that was the problem. for the first time tonight, jeno wasn't playing any games. for the first time ever since you broke up, he felt like you were truly gonna slip away from him for eternity.
“let’s talk baby,” he came closer to you, voice laced with a sense of nervousness that only you were able to tell.
“there’s nothing to talk about!”
“there is.” his hand caught your wrist, fingers circling, thumb pressing into your pulse point. “i fucked up. i know. but i’ve been losing my mind without you. every time i see you laughing with someone else, i want to rip them apart.. i’ll - fuck i’ll tone down the fighting, i’ll just -”
for the first time since you’ve dated each other, he was actually anxious.
“i don’t know how to say it right.” his voice cracked, just a little. he tugged you closer, his forehead resting against yours. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry for the shit i did. but i can’t let you go. you’re it for me, princess. you’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”
you wanted to stay angry. you wanted to push him away, scream, claw at him until he let you go. but your body betrayed you—the heat of him, the familiar weight of his hands, the way his thumb traced lazy circles on your wrist. a month of no contact, of pretending you didn’t miss the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and now you were trembling.
“jeno.” it came out weak.
“let me show you.” his lips ghosted over your cheek. “let me prove i still know how to make you feel good. just tonight. then we can talk tomorrow. i’ll fix the door, i swear, but… let me have this.”
you should have said no. should have fought harder. but the cold air had seeped into your bones, and he was warm, and you were so fucking tired of pretending you didn’t want him. karina can lecture you about it later.
“you’re an asshole,” you whispered.
“yeah. your asshole.” he smiled, a real one, and it softened the hard lines of his face. then he kissed you. hard. hungry. his tongue slid against yours, and you melted into it, your hands fisting in his jacket. a month of denial crashed down, and you kissed him back like you were drowning.
he groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips through the thin fabric of your dress. “fuck, i missed you. missed this.” he bit your lower lip, tugging, and you gasped. his fingers found the hem of your dress, bunching it up until the cold air hit your thighs.
“jen, the door—someone could come up—“
“they won’t.” he pulled back, his eyes dark and serious. “i told jaemin to lock it and keep everyone away. gave us an hour.”
your breath caught. “you—you planned this?”
“had to get you alone somehow.” he kissed your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse. “you wouldn’t talk to me. you wouldn’t even look at me. this was the only way, princess. forgive me?”
you should have been furious. instead, you were wet. the audacity of it, the raw desperation—it turned you on more than you wanted to admit. you tilted your head back, giving him more access, and he took it, sucking a mark into your collarbone.
“i hate you,” you breathed.
“no, you don’t.” his hand slid between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re soaked, baby. you missed me too.”
you didn’t deny it. couldn’t. he hooked a finger under the lace, pulling it aside, and then his fingers were on you—calloused and rough, sliding through your slick folds. you bucked into his touch, a moan escaping your lips.
“that’s it. let me hear you.” he found your clit, circling it with practiced precision, and your knees buckled. he caught you, guiding you back until you were pressed against the cold brick wall of the rooftop shed. “been thinking about this every night. jerking off to the memory of your pussy gripping my cock.”
“jeno—fuck—“
he pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you, and you cried out. his thumb kept working your clit, pressing hard, and he watched your face with that predatory intensity that always made you feel like prey—but in the best way. he curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
“you’re so tight. so perfect.” he pumped his fingers, faster, deeper, the sound of your wetness obscene in the night air. “gonna make you come on my hand first. then i’m gonna bend you over this railing and fuck you until you remember who you belong to.”
you were close, the pressure coiling in your belly, but you weren’t ready to give in. “i don’t belong to anyone.”
“yeah, you do.” he pressed his thumb harder against your clit, and you screamed, your orgasm crashing through you. your walls clenched around his fingers, and he kept pumping, drawing it out until you were shaking and gasping against the wall.
“good girl.” he pulled his fingers out, sliding them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “taste so sweet.”
your dress was rucked up around your waist, your panties hanging uselessly off one hip. he pushed them down, letting them fall to the gravel. then he unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal loud in the silence. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum.
“turn around. bend over the railing.”
you hesitated for only a second. then you obeyed, gripping the cold metal, arching your back. "good fucking girl."
the dress rode up, exposing your bare ass. he moved behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock pressing against your wet entrance.
“i’m sorry,” he muttered, the words rough and awkward. “for everything. i don’t know how to be the guy you deserve. but i’m trying. i’m trying, princess.”
then he pushed inside you, and all coherent thought dissolved. his teeth found the side of your neck and made his mark there before licking and sucking a hickey onto it.
he filled you completely, stretching you, the friction perfect. he gave you a moment to adjust, then pulled out and thrust back in, a steady rhythm that quickly grew frantic. his hand snaked around to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts, and you moaned into the night.
“fuck, you feel better than i remember.” he spanked your ass, the sharp sting making you clench around him. “look at you, taking my cock like a fucking dream. missed this pussy. missed your tight little cunt.”
he drove into you harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit. the rooftop lights cast long shadows, and you could see the city below, oblivious to the raw, desperate sex happening above. the thought only made you wetter.
“jen, i’m gonna—“
“come for me, baby. come on my cock.” he pressed down on your clit, and you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a wave. he kept thrusting, chasing his own release, but you were too sensitive, bucking against him.
“wait—too much—“
“one more.” he slowed, but didn’t stop, grinding deep inside you. “come on, princess. you can give me one more. for me.”
he pulled out, and before you could catch your breath, he spun you around, lifting you up. your legs wrapped around his waist, your back hitting the wall again. he lined himself up into your gaping pussy and sank back into you, this time face to face.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss, messy and desperate. he fucked you slow and deep, his eyes locked on yours, his forehead pressed against yours.
“i’m not good at words,” he whispered. “but i need you back. i need you, and i don’t care how much i have to change. i’ll burn the world down for you. just… come back to me.”
you couldn’t speak. the emotion in his voice—raw, broken, real—cracked something inside you. you kissed him, hard, and he groaned into your mouth, his thrusts becoming erratic. "this pussy was fucking made for me."
“i’m gonna fill you up,” he growled. “gonna put my cum deep inside you, and you’re gonna walk around downstairs knowing you’re still mine.”
“yes,” you gasped. “do it—please—“
he drove into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and you felt his hot release spill inside you, wave after wave. you came again, a smaller, shuddery orgasm, clenching around him as he pulsed inside you.
he held you there, both of you panting, sweat-slicked and trembling. he pulled out slowly, his cum dripping down your thigh. he caught it with his fingers, pressing it back inside, his eyes dark and possessive.
“you’re not leaving this rooftop until i hear you say you’ll try,” he said, voice husky. “even if we have to do this a few more times.”
you laughed, weak and breathless. “you’re impossible.”
“and you’re mine.” he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. “please, princess. say yes."
you looked at him—the fighting scars, the rough edges, the vulnerable flicker in his eyes—and you knew you were lost.
"come on, let's ditch this and go back so you can sit on my face.”
“fine. but you’re sleeping on the sofa for a month.”
he grinned, wide and boyish, and pulled you into another kiss. the door was still locked, but the night was young, and there was plenty of time to argue about the future. right now, you had his cum leaking down your thigh and his arms around you, and for the first time in a month, it felt like home.
"oh, and tell oh sion to fucking keep his hands to himself unless he wants it broken."
synopsis: your loyal best friend whose feelings have long outgrown platonic ties.
genre: slice of life, i guess. angst. eventual smut. slowburn (if you squint). friends to lovers. mutual pining.
word count: 9.6k~
warnings: both reader and jeno are two idiots so prepare to be ragebaited. mentions of karina and jaemin. jeno gets major jealousy. cussing and a bit of arguing. cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex (uh oh!), dirty talk, petnames, mock sympathy, dom!jeno, praise kink, teensy bit overstimulation... i think that's it lmao ?
mimi's note ࣪ ˖ ི : i first wanted to start off saying thank you all SO FREAKING MUCH for all the support on my blog so far, i wasn't expecting my work to be loved this early 🥹 so as a proper gift of gratitude, i present my first (kinda) full-fledged jeno fic!! i know ncity's a bit fucked rn so hope this helps.. anyways, happy reading <3
it's hard to say when it began, this confidant-like friendship you now share with jeno. you two met through mutual friends, and slowly yet surely, he became the one person you turn to with every romantic disappointment that plagues your life.
ghosted by a man again? tell jeno. regretting a horrid hookup? jeno's hearing of it. developing feelings for a guy from another dating app? jeno, jeno, jeno.
it's not like you set out to use him as your personal therapist or something; he just happened to be an exceptionally good listener. and he never once complained.
this time was no different. you had bombarded jeno with multiple (wildly over dramatic) messages, demanding that he come over at once because of an "emergency conversation" that you simply had to inform him of. of course, being the ever-present and dependable friend he is, he dropped everything and came.
when he arrives, you're already dragging him inside and shutting the door behind him with a tad too much urgency, breaths uneven. you're in simple home clothes: a fitted tank top and relaxed shorts. jeno's attention drifts over your form for a moment too long. he feels his throat close up and his heart begins to hammer against his ribs. you look absolutely radiant. it's a domesticity that feels like a taunt; other men that you involve yourself with that get to have access to the utmost beauty that you are... and he doesn't. he hates it.
he shakes himself out of his trance and deliberately shifts his focus back to your face.
"...alright. what's going on?"
you're practically bouncing on your toes, letting out tiny squeals and excited little exhales. it's so cute to him that he wants to bash his face in. when your energy finally dips slightly, you seize him by his collar and yank him close, until your faces are just inches apart.
"me and you are going on a double date!"
jeno's head begins to reel from your words. a... double date? you've organized a date for yourself and actually found a girl for him as well? the thought alone is exhausting. his unrequited love for you is nearly impossible to suppress as it is, and now he has to spend an entire evening pretending as though he's at all interested in another woman while watching you with another man? it sounds like a nightmare.
but he can't bear to refuse when you look so happy. your wide smile and the way you're jumping and giggling, it's one of the most adorable sights he's ever witnessed. and so, his response spills out of him before he can even reconsider.
"when is it? and where, exactly?"
another soft, delighted squeal slips from your lips, and he feels any remnants of his hesitant resistance to the offer crumble, melting like warm putty at the sound of it.
"it's next weekend! at that one bar/grill joint we passed that one time—you remember, right?" you exclaim, eyes sparkling with that beautiful anticipation. "please, please, please tell me you're free then, jen-jen."
jen-jen.
if you weren't already mercilessly tugging at his heartstrings, that infuriatingly sweet little nickname would have singlehandedly shattered and snapped them completely.
"yeah.. yeah, i'll make sure to free up my schedule for next weekend."
you yelp out of joy, immediately throwing your arms around him and murmuring soft words of gratitude and encouragement while he quietly feels his heart simultaneously break and swell at your embrace.
in what feels like a much shorter time span than a week, the destined weekend double date finally arrives. jeno is all nerves and anxiety, his traitorously unhelpful conscience conjuring up all the many ways this could go very wrong.
the plan is for him to pick you up from your apartment at exactly 6:30 and no later than to head to the place together, since it's already half an hour drive.
he dressed casual, but not too casual. he pulled on a gray-ish henley with dark wash jeans and some brown, small boots. not too shabby, he supposed.
when he pulled up to your apartment and knocked on the door, he barely had time to wait twenty seconds before you swung it open. when his eyes landed on you, you stood there dressed in one of the most beautiful, casually enchanting dresses he's ever seen you in. and considering how many times he's had the misfortune of watching you doll up for other men, that's saying something.
"wow, you look..." he mumbles under his breath. he doesn't even have time to wonder if you caught it because you cut him off before the sentence can fully take shape.
you smooth the fabric of your dress with a quick motion and pick up your delicate purse from the small stand near the door. it then clicks shut behind you as you step out into the very pleasant weather of an august evening. the scent of your feminine, airy perfume wafts up to jeno's nose in large waves of sweetness, which is more than his already precarious restraint can bear.
"oh my goodness, you're perfectly on time!" you exclaim. "we should leave now—i don't want us to be late."
he nods and immediately leads you to the parking lot, opening the passenger door of his car for you, the gesture silent but undeniable in its chivalry. despite the 'just friends' label that you both stupidly cling onto, he can't resist treating you with every ounce of tender, gentlemanly attention a boyfriend would. the same attention you complain to him about not finding in any man you talk to romantically.
if only you bothered to open your eyes...
you climb into his passenger seat, swiftly clicking in your seatbelt with one hand while the other pulls out your phone to type in the name of the joint into the GPS app. jeno walks around the car and slips into the driver's seat, switching on the ignition and clicking in his own seatbelt.
"i'm so freaking excited, jeno, seriously. me and this guy have great chemistry, and i'm sure that you'll love his friend that he's bringing too. she's super pretty. wanna see?"
he's not at all excited. he shakes his head, gently taking your phone from your hands and placing it on his right thigh with the directions on-screen as he pulls out of the parking lot, one arm moving to rest behind your headrest as he reverses.
"i'll see her anyway when we get there, no?"
you blow a lighthearted raspberry at him, flipping down the overhead mirror to take one last glance at your makeup. light brown tones dust your eyelids, while a delicately lighter shade of pink warm your cheeks. your lips, coated with a thin layer of glossy sheen, look succulent and soft under the combined, dim light of the car and the moon above.
it's an entire battle in and of itself for him to keep his eyes on the road ahead, and not blatantly gawk at you the way he wants to.
it kills him to ask—to feign interest in any aspect of this situation—but anything to break the silence that's beginning to envelope the space of the car.
"so... about the guy. and the girl too, i guess. but um.. how well do you know them?"
you snap the overhead mirror back into place, gently tugging the hem of your dress a little lower on your thighs. clearing your throat, you speak with that easy, naturally smooth tone that has developed between you two after months of closeness.
"well, i don't know the girl at all—tonight will be my first time meeting her, too. but the guy, we've been talking back and forth for about a month now. his name is jaemin—he's really hot, actually, but i can't tell if he's just another jackass... guess we'll find out."
jeno simply nods along, his face betraying nothing of his inner turmoil and how every word leaving your lips is slowly chipping away at and dismantling his sanity and emotional control.
"i'm excited," is all he murmurs. you clap and smile widely, beaming with delight at his apparent enthusiasm. you remain unaware of just how violently he's fighting the impulse to turn his car all the way back to your apartment and call this whole idiotic 'quadruple date' off.
for the rest of the ride, he switches on some smooth r&b, velvety vocals and silky instrumentals flowing through the speakers at a comfortable volume, wrapping the car in a cocoon of intimate warmth.
approximately half an hour later, they pull into the parking lot of the bar/grill joint, the sturdy yet inviting brick building's windows already showing flickers of other customers within the establishment, which is bathed in yellow-toned lighting.
you exited the car almost before he had fully parked, and the sight made his stomach churn. he felt the urge to lock the doors and remain seated (possibly for the rest of his days) intensify. only now that he was parked in front of the building, which seemed more like hell on earth than an inviting, fun place to enjoy a night out, was the reality of the situation beginning to crystallize.
when you glanced back and saw jeno still frozen behind the wheel through the windshield, you waved him over with a playful gesture, your expression blooming into one of your signature, sweet, torturously disarming smiles; the very one he wishes he could devour right off your pretty little face.
he sighs softly to himself, muttering "just do it, it'll be fine" over and over under his breath as he opens the driver's side door, climbing out of the car and walking over to your side, following you into the establishment.
he rests a hand on the small of your back as you enter together, the touch effortlessly instinctive. the lively chaos of the combined bar and grill immediately swallows both of you. almost every table is packed with customers, some nursing drinks while others enjoy meticulously prepared meals. a vibrant tapestry of chatter and laughter fill the space as your eyes sweep the room in search of the two individuals you're here to acquaint yourselves with.
finally, your eyes land on a man with jet black hair, the strands artfully arranged to accentuate his striking appearance. beside him stood a woman whose face you couldn't quite discern all the way from here, but from what you can see, she looks drop-dead gorgeous. that must be jaemin and his friend. you practically gripped jeno's arm and led him across the room with purposeful strides to the table in the corner.
as you and jeno approached the table, jaemin and his friend glanced up with welcoming smiles and rose from their chairs to greet you both. and wow... jaemin had not overstated his friend's beauty. up close, she was stunning—every contour and soft play of light on her face seems handcrafted by Aphrodite herself. an almost ethereal loveliness.
"you must be karina, right?"
she nods with a smile of such devastating beauty that you're convinced it has felled hundreds of hearts across her lifetime.
you two exchange quick and friendly introductions, and you greet jaemin in turn, who looks like he's trying his absolute best not to check you out. then her gaze moves to jeno, drawn almost immediately to the way one of his hands is gently resting on the small of your back. she chuckles softly to herself at the sight, and then her eyes meet yours again.
"you sure you two are just friends...?"
you laugh, the sound carrying a unintentional hint of awkwardness, as you nod in quick succession. you reach back and carefully remove jeno's hand from your lower back. you felt it—the way his fingers resisted for a moment, clinging to yours stubbornly before releasing.
another of those quiet, intimate gestures that you habitually ignored for the sake of maintaining the fragile boundary of friendship.
"yeah, yeah, of course! jeno's like a brother to me, i swear."
jeno's jaw tightened at the uncomfortable description, but he schooled his expression to one of neutrality. after all, it was perfectly reasonable for you to see him as a brotherly figure. though the sting of it lingered nonetheless.
jaemin took your hand and led you to the seat beside his, pulling it out with the courtesy of a proper gentleman. jeno watched the exchange with the most weakly masked unease, though he stayed silent, lowering himself in the chair next to karina's. she offered him a warm smile. any other man would have melted at the sight, but jeno returned only a polite grin before facing forward. he bore the girl no ill will - she was strikingly beautiful and clearly kind - but his heart has belonged to another for so long that he can't even begin to feign interest in others anymore.
a few long-ish minutes later, a female server approaches the table, and with the amount of patrons currently in the establishment, how flushed her face is, and how she's slightly panting, you can tell they're slammed tonight.
"hello, i'm terribly sorry for the wait! what can i get you guys?"
the group settled on their orders. jaemin opted for pulled pork paired with complimenting whiskey, karina chose a margarita alongside a New York strip steak, you went with grilled chicken and vodka, and finally, jeno ordered the pork chops, along with the only non-alcoholic drink at the table - crisp apple cider.
the server jotted down your orders on her notepad with a certain impressive speed that only years of food service could hone. she assures you all that the kitchen would begin preparing your dishes shortly, then hurried off with a quick smile.
once the drinks arrived, the table erupted into small cheers and murmurs of gratitude. jaemin raised his glass of whiskey and clinked it softly against yours with a warm, charming grin. "to a fun night," he murmured, voice like silk, "and to the company of an absolutely gorgeous woman."
you giggled softly and lifted your glass to clink it against his, taking a delicate sip of the colorless vodka. the liquid leaves a satisfying burn as it slides down your throat. across the table, jeno observes this intimate interaction with a heavy gaze, taking weak, insufficient sips of his cider. karina either is completely incognizant to how jeno's eyes are blatantly glued onto you and jaemin, or she did indeed detect it and chose not to acknowledge it. it seems to be more likely the latter since she then leans in and rests a boldly flirtatious hand on his thigh.
"hey there," she purred, her voice laced with amusement. "you've been awfully quiet since you got here." she laughed softly and scooted her chair closer to his, despite being right beside each other. "i don't think i've heard you say a single word yet."
jeno is snapped out of his very unambiguous studying of you and jaemin, turning to look at karina. her winsome, inviting eyes stare right back at him expectantly, and he feels slightly shamefaced for glaringly neglecting this girl and barely acknowledging her presence, too focused on the conversation you and jaemin are currently engrossed in. he clears his throat and internally pressures himself to at least attempt small-talk with this hopeful woman.
"hey, sorry about that." he replied, trying to shake off the distance and awkwardness. "i didn't mean to seem aloof. but anyways, tell me more about yourself. do you live around here?"
karina seemed much more animated now that jeno was actually participating in the conversation and not dwelling inside his own head. she nods enthusiastically, her fingers tapping a gentle rhythm where they rest on his thigh.
"yeah, i just moved to this area about half a year ago," she said with a warm, sincere smile. "it's been lovely so far!"
jeno gave her a small nod and smiled back politely, the picture of poise. in truth, behaving as though he was absorbed in whatever karina was going on about right beside him felt far more tortuous than he had projected. he tried to contain himself, to restrict his gaze from perpetually finding you and jaemin across the table. he couldn't. his knee was beginning to jitter uncontrollably, sweat was coating his palms in a thin layer of glistening sheen, and his jaw cinched repeatedly. karina's voice dissolved further into the background while the chatter of you and jaemin became deafeningly loud, echoing throughout the recesses of his mind.
luckily, the food arrived just then - a very crucial distraction from jeno's downward spiral. you all thank the server heartily, taking your respective plates while warm steam rises up from the meals in curling plumes. the ambrosial scent of cooked/grilled meat wraps around everyone, and you all fumble to uncover the knives and forks from their neatly folded napkins. jaemin leans over and whispers something to you that jeno - to his disappointment - couldn't decipher from across the table, earning a small chuckle from you. he reaches over to steal a slice of your grilled chicken and you smack his hand away, pushing him gently. he laughs at it; as do you. and all the while, jeno can't seem to look away from your naturally cute and intimate little moment with jaemin.
why was he condemned to sit on the sidelines, forced to spectate you lavish your warmth and attention onto any man but him?
karina observed it all, naturally. i mean, if you weren't so thoroughly preoccupied with jaemin and his flirtatious charm, you would too. anyone with eyes who bothered to pay even an ounce of attention could see how obvious it was that jeno's awareness was fixed on you and the man at your side.
he tore into the tender pork meat harder than necessary, the sharp line of his jaw clenching with each grind of his teeth. this is pure hell for him. he's not sure how much longer he can sit at this table and watch you glow for another man until he ends up clawing his own face off (and jaemin's too.)
then karina claps her hands, successfully drawing attention from the group as she shifts in her chair. "alright, guys, how about a fun icebreaker? never have i ever, two truths and a lie - a game to actually get to know each other?"
you and jaemin are quick to show enthusiasm, but jeno's face remains meticulously deadpan. you finally notice his contrast of reaction from the group and lean forward, addressing him for what is probably the first time since you and jaemin became lost in conversation.
"you're okay with that, right, jen-jen?"
again, that stupid fucking nickname that sends his heart racing faster than it ever should. sometimes he wished that you were simply ordinary. that you'd call him jeno like everyone else does, look ordinary, act ordinary. that you'd just be the most unremarkable and dull woman that he'd have no issue keeping at a platonic distance comfortably. but of course… you're the farthest thing from ordinary. you're lively, magnetic, fun, and one of the most captivating people he's ever had the pleasure of being around. and if he wasn't so utterly terrified of losing your company forever by telling you that his feelings for you ran far deeper than friendship, he would. he'd have told you the moment he realized the truth himself, would have shouted it from the rooftops. but alas, fear of causing your absence from his life has kept him silent and in suffering. and here he remained.
"yeah, of course. i'm up for a fun game."
you smiled warmly at his agreement, seemingly oblivious to his internal torment. and as if watching you be all lovey-dovey with jaemin since the second you two got here wasn't agonizing enough, he now had to witness you casually lean into his side as jaemin's hand boldly found its place on your waist. he clenched his jaw until it ached and tore his eyes away before he did something he'll truly regret - like dragging you out of this damn restaurant and into the backseat of his car where he'd fuck your brains out the way he's been desperately yearning to for far longer than is acceptable.
right then karina pipes up, speaking excitedly and grabbing jeno's hand under the table to intertwine it with hers, like they're already an established couple. "then let's play never have i ever and if you've done the thing mentioned, you have to take an extra large drink of whatever alcohol you ordered, okay? you have to be honest!"
she then tilted toward jeno and whispered softly to him, her voice flirtatious and kittenish - which, again, he would've wholly liquefied at if every inch of his very heavy heart wasn't served bare on a platter just for you. "i know you got cider, so we can just share my drink for the game, handsome." she purred.
jeno gave karina a wordless nod and a strained smile. although he had no desire to share a drink with her. no desire or pull to play this ridiculous game. and he certainly had no desire in seeing jaemin's relentless flirtation towards you, or even worse, to endure the sight of you and your girlish coquetry towards him. he wanted none of this. yet still, he had let you drag him here without so much as a single objection because of how you had lit up from within just talking about this. and in the end, he knows deep down that here he'll stay, in silent agony, if it was what you wanted.
because what is lee jeno if not a fool for you?
the questions started innocently enough, none of them really pertaining to any of jeno's past (or distressingly current) experiences. things like "never have i ever slept with someone on the first day of knowing them," which jaemin and you, much to his dismay, drank to. the thought of some undeserving man who most likely fumbled through sex - failing to please you the way he knows he could - earning the privilege of taking you to bed on the first day... it burns a hole bubbling with searing jealousy through his chest.
karina comes up with the next question, sitting up straight in her seat as she clears her throat. "okay, what about.. never have i ever had feelings for a friend."
the table goes silent for a few moments. jaemin laughs insouciantly, putting up both hands in a cheeky gesture of mock surrender. "not me. all my friends stay friends." karina giggles and makes no move to drink either. then, jeno gently takes hold of the shared alcohol between him and karina, and takes a large, intentional gulp, far larger than necessary. your eyes hovered on his action, and after a few seemingly drawn-out seconds, you lift your own drink and take a sip.
jaemin uttered out an absurdly immature "oohhh", prompting you to gently elbow him while scoffing. jeno, however, stayed mostly stone faced. if anyone bothered to spare a glance under the table, the only thing to give him away would be the restless bounce of his leg.
you sighed softly and shrugged, letting your back press against the backrest of the chair as though your words held no weight at all. "i don't know," you muttered. "sure, i've developed feelings for a few guy friends over the years, but it was never anything major." but jeno had caught the way your eyes had stayed on him when he drank after the question. how it felt as though you weren't planning to drink until he had, which is when you lifted your glass in tandem. your nonchalance rang hollow in his ears - he wasn't convinced. or maybe it was another false impression.
jaemin then turned to jeno, probably their very first one-on-one interaction of the night, as he jutted his chin to him, a nonverbal beckon for his attention. "what about you? why'd you drink?"
jeno's eyes found yours for a fleeting moment before compelling his eyes back down to his drink, where he traced the rim of it with his index finger. "the same for me, i guess." he carded his fingers through his hair. "i sometimes become friends with women that i don't really have strictly platonic intentions with, and i just hope that over time, the label of friendship will drive my feelings to just fade. but... they usually don't."
a blanket of silence fell over the table before jaemin snorted softly, reaching across the table to gently shake jeno by the shoulder. "damn, man. that's gotta suck."
jeno pressed his lips into a thin, taut smile. his opinion of jaemin was souring further and further the longer this outing progressed, but he kept this sentiment carefully disguised, not wanting to spoil the mood.
the game carried on for another half hour, the restaurant gradually emptying out until only your table remained. jeno had only drank a few more times throughout the rounds and was just a tad bit tipsy, while you most definitely had fallen victim to the alcohol completely. you were all over jaemin now, pressing soft kisses on the side of his neck and murmuring things into his ear that he kept chuckling at. karina had apparently caught onto the way jeno's eyes were hooked onto any physical touch that was exchanged between you and jaemin, so she leaned in and whispered.
"you like her, don't you?"
jeno's head snapped to karina beside him, his stance frozen like a deer in headlights. he blinked at her, once, twice. she only laughed at him, gently patting him on the arm. "if you're gonna ask me how i know, save it. anyone with a working pair of eyes could figure it out. the real question is how she hasn't noticed yet."
jeno looked over at you - how your head was resting on jaemin's shoulder, how he was leaning in to brush his nose against yours. it made his fingers curl, nails digging into his thighs. "yeah. i do." he breathed. "and i'm sick of watching from the fucking sidelines."
karina pulled out her phone, noting the time: 10:05 pm. the restaurant was surely set to close soon. she drew near jeno again, voice low and slightly expectant as she spoke, "then tell that to her, not me. tonight. because if you don't... you'd better believe she'll be waking up in jaemin's bed come morning."
jeno visibly flinches at the thought, and his gaze lifts to find karina's. the flirtatious smiles that she had been offering him throughout the evening had faded completely, replaced by a warmer, more encouraging grin. and for the first time all night, jeno reciprocated her beaming expression. he reached over and gave her hand a gentle, friendly squeeze. "thank you, rina," he murmurs softly.
she waved her hand dismissively, her smile shifting to something more mischievous but still warm. "oh, don't thank me. the last thing i want is to try and pursue a guy whose heart is already taken." then she stands up, her voice louder now to get yours and jaemin's attention.
"alright, guys! it's getting late, let's wrap up here."
you let out a drunken groan of disappointment and latched onto jaemin's arm, shaking your head like a petulant child. he chuckled and began to rise, trying to coax you out of your seat as well. after a few moments of half-hearted resistance, you finally gave in, swaying from side to side as you stood shakily.
"come on, darling. let's get you into the car," jaemin hummed, one strong arm wrapped securely around your waist while he carried your purse in his other hand. jeno glanced at the other man's affectionate touch on you from the corner of his eye, jaw tightening as he willed his feet forward, to the restaurant exit. he reached the door before the rest of you, holding it open.
karina stepped outside first and waited for the group, tapping her foot lightly against the pavement. the moment jaemin escorted you through the doorway, jeno moved. he couldn't refrain himself - he wanted nothing more than to be the one with his arm curved around your waist, holding you steady, feeling your delicate head be supported by his broad shoulder, all of it. he deserved that. more than jaemin, more than anyone.
jeno's large hand gently (yet firmly) slid around your upper arm and carefully extracted you from jaemin, pressing you into his side instead. his gaze shifted to jaemin's face, bewilderment evident on his features. the look swirling in jeno's eyes wasn't outright anger, but it was by no means friendly, either.
"i'll take care of her," he stated unwaveringly. with that, he guided you out of the doorway and into the cool night air, the faint chill skimming across your skin. jaemin blinked in clear confusion before trailing after you three. karina and jaemin made their way to their parked car that they arrived in as jeno helped you over to say your goodbyes.
"i'll text you soon, sweetheart," jaemin said, reaching out to touch your shoulder. a tipsy smile rounded your lips, but jeno deftly tilted you backward before jaemin's hand could even graze you. to any casual observer, it might've seemed like he was simply stabilizing you, but that was far from the truth. in reality, after nearly three excruciatingly long hours of watching you entwined with another man, he can no longer endure even the faintest whisper of jaemin's hands upon you.
after exchanging brief farewells with jaemin and karina (who had an almost imperceptible but clearly present smirk on her face), jeno paused. before he fully walked away and towards his car, he leaned in close to jaemin, just out of your earshot, and muttered, the muscles of his jaw tensing noticeably. "this was a one-time thing. trust me, she's not that interested in you. so move on." jaemin's eyes widened, but his discombobulated brain couldn't even form a proper response before jeno was already turning away, striding across the parking lot with you in his grasp. was any of that true? no. were you actually interested in jaemin? from what he witnessed while on the date, yes. but jeno didn't care. he refused to let this thing between you and jaemin blossom, which would undoubtedly oblige him to endure more instances of flirtatious tomfoolery between you two.
he then opens the passenger door and helps you inside, reaching over you to buckle you in, his large, warm fingers brushing your waist. the accidental contact sends a tingle up his spine, making him swallow deeply in order to collect himself and his unexpectedly improper thoughts. he closes the door and rounds the front of the car to the driver's side, slipping inside and clicking his buckle in as well.
jeno pulls out of the parking lot, observing with mild disgust and annoyance as you roll down your window to wave goodbye to jaemin and karina as the car passes them, and before you can blow a kiss to jaemin, jeno extends one hand from the steering wheel towards the window control panel on his left, swiftly pulling up on the switch for the passenger window, rolling it up.
you turn to frown at jeno, eyebrows furrowed and your bottom lip jutting out slightly in a pout. it would've been a cute sight if he wasn't already brimming with cutting envy and aggravation. "what's your deal tonight? if you told me you were gonna be in such a pissy mood all evening, then i would have just gone on the date alone, with only me and jaemin," you uttered. the words only further fueled the flame that was scorching him from the inside, and he blabbered out something bitter in reply.
"yeah, of course, and then there would be no one there to stop you from making the moronic decision of jumping his bones on the first night, right?"
your face wrinkled with ire, and you sat up straight despite the alcohol, clearly wired up now from his jab at you and your practices with men you talk to. your voice increased in volume as the hostility between you two blanketed the car in suffocating intensity. "oh, really?" you exclaimed. "and who the hell are you to fucking sit here and dictate who i can and can't sleep with?" he went rigid. he didn't have a clear answer to that without revealing the depth of his feelings for you.
he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and extinguished the blistering fire that had begun to engulf his insides, softening his tone. "i'm just looking out for you. i don't want idiots who don't even understand your worth to constantly have access to you... or your body," he breathed. as the words left his lips, he knew they skirted perilously close to the truth.
but clearly, his tone quieting didn't fully appease you the way he'd hoped. the alcohol in your system has made you especially susceptible to your emotions, and they were rapidly taking over for the still remaining twenty minutes of the drive back. the volume of your voice only increased and you spat back, "looking out for me? don't sit here and fucking bullshit me, jeno - you've never said shit about who i have sex with before. so why the hell are you suddenly in my business?" jeno gritted his teeth together at the honesty of your words. it was true, of course. he had rarely let himself bring this topic up and how much it frustrated him, but his composure was evaporating now. the weight of it was pressing down on his chest, trying to smother him in his own love for you.
meanwhile, you weren't entirely unaffected, either. for quite some time now, something had always been twisting your chest whenever jeno was near. a strange, incessant ache that shrunk you like a wrung-out cloth. it happened whenever you felt his hands unintentionally brush your skin, whenever you felt his eyes on you when you weren't looking, only for him to turn away the moment you glanced back his way. it frustrated you to no end, this inability to decipher him. how one second he seemed completely fine with your quest for finding the right guy, encouraging even, while the next he was disapproving of it all, snapping at you and calling your choices idiotic. the inconsistency made your head spin.
his temper was rising again as well, knuckles whitening as his fingers clutched the steering wheel like he was fighting not to rip it off. "because i can't fucking stand it," he growled. "i can't sit there and watch you throw yourself at him all night, let him touch you, kiss your neck like he has any right to. it makes me sick to my stomach, i mean, god damn it, sunshine, he doesn't even know you! you don't know him, and he deserves none of the privileges that you're simply handing to him, god, i just-" he cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath, pressing his lips together.
the car was plunged into a weighty silence for several long seconds. your head snapped to look at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. your eyes burned into his side profile - that sharp jawline that you had privately dreamt of kissing. lower still, they drifted to that prominent bob of his adam's apple, that you had regularly imagined of dragging your nose along just to drown yourself in that masculine, musky scent of his. the bitterness in your tone was now laced with something much more deeply rooted in your friendship with jeno: hurt, confusion... yearning. "then why don't you ever say anything? why do you always do this, act all supportive of me getting to know other men and then randomly lose your shit on a random tuesday?"
jeno didn't answer. he didn't know how to without ripping open a door he wasn't ready to walk through. he didn't want to lose you. the fear of shattering the fragile balance of your friendship, trust, company... it's all that kept circulating in his mind. so, he remained silent throughout the rest of the drive to your apartment. however, you continued to fire off pointed arguments every few minutes, your annoyance and exasperation only fueled further by his stubborn silence. finally, he pulled into the parking spot right outside your building, and the second the car was parked, you unbuckled yourself and stormed out, with jeno trailing right behind. you flew up the lobby stairs and to your door, keys already in hand as you continued to complain. it was clear you were planning to resume this feud inside.
you shove the keys inside the keyhole and twist sharply, pushing the door open as your voice continues to cut through the air, jeno's large frame looming close behind you. "i mean, you have to fucking cooperate, jeno!" you snapped, irritation pouring out of you in large heaps. "i'm trying my best to understand what the hell is going on inside your head, and you just—"
he doesn't let you finish your sentence. the second the door shuts, he locks it and grabs you by the shoulders, walking you backwards until your back is flattened against the wall, leaving you trapped between the white surface behind you and his tall, muscular body in front of you. his pitch is much lower than it was in the car, rougher in a different way. not anger... but want. it made your stomach flip with something like excitement and pure desire. he's never once spoken to you like this. not the supportive, caring, loyal jeno you've grown to know. this version of him was entirely new, and you were shameless enough to like it.
"you wanna know what the fuck is going on in my head? huh?" his eyes bored into you with something you could only describe as raw hunger. "you really want me to say it? fine." his grip on your shoulders tightened, bordering on a sting. "i'm jealous, alright? I'm so fucking jealous of every single goddamn guy that you've gone on dates with, slept with, and spent any of your precious time with. why? because i want it. i want you. all for myself, every fucking piece."
you stood there and blinked at him with wide eyes, heart pounding so hard that it feels as though it's going to leap out of your chest and land right in his palms. his gaze softens somewhat when he sees your dumbfounded expression, and he drops his forehead to yours, breathing in your scent properly for what's probably the first time ever. he murmured, "i'm sorry for not telling you until now, i know, it's a stupid, stupid thing for me to hide it from you. i just... god, i just didn't want to lose you, and now i don't know if i already have—"
now it was your turn to cut him off. rising onto your toes to reach his mouth, your lips silencing his with a passionate kiss. it froze him for a good few seconds. then the dam shattered, and his larger, calloused hands abandoned your shoulders and tumbled into your hair, moving his lips against yours like he's been craving for the taste of you since the moment he first laid eyes upon you. the dominance of him is almost overwhelming as he caught your lower lip between his teeth, demanding entry. the instant your lips parted, his tongue swept inside and began tangling with yours.
you moaned into his mouth, fingers curling into his shirt as he pressed you harder against the wall, his strong body molding perfectly against yours. you can't remember the last time you felt this intoxicated by a man's touch. one of his hands left the strands of your hair to grip your thigh, hoisting it high around his waist as he ground himself against you, causing another soft whimper to roll off your tongue, which he was currently devouring. you could feel the growing tent in his jeans, which was only making your head swim with more indecent thoughts.
he broke the kiss briefly, only to trail his hot, open mouth along the line of your jaw and neck, making your head fall back against the wall and your lips part in a noiseless gasp. "fuck..." he pressed his nose to your neck, inhaling that heady, exquisite fragrance that always clung to you like it was your natural essence. he rasped against your skin, muttering, "you have no idea... just how many times i've dreamt of this. of you." he sounded desperate. like he doesn't know how to contain his passion for you now that he finally had you at his mercy. his hips twitched against yours, silently imploring for any kind of friction as his hand slipped under your dress, fingers poking into the silky smooth skin of your inner thighs.
"please," he whispers huskily between kisses placed to the delicate skin of your throat. "let me have you. i'll make you feel so good, i'll show you just how much i've longed for you—just, please. my gorgeous, gorgeous girl..." his hips still subtly rolled against yours, as if he was hardly holding himself back.
and how could you say no to him when he's pleading so pretty?
your fingers gently twisted the satiny strands of his hair that were fragrant with something fresh and citrusy like mint lemonade. you buried your nose into his hair, immersing yourself into his scent as you hummed against his locks, "then have me, jen. because god knows i've wanted you, too."
he lifts his head for his eyes to meet yours, irises sparkling with something like pleasant surprise and trust. he chuckles, shaking his head as if this situation is one of the most ridiculous circumstances he's ever caught himself tangled up in. "jesus, we are both so fucking stupid and blind."
and then his mouth slammed onto yours again, like any ounce of human etiquette had leaped out the window, leaving an unbridled, primal sense of want that was overriding any other emotion in his body. he lifted you off your feet, both large hands on the underside of your thighs as he carried you to your bedroom. he laid you down on your bed. the same bed that he had sat on many instances prior to this moment, while you ranted to him about another disappointing interaction with a man. all while he was battling not to strip you bare and show you how satisfactory he could really be for you.
his lips attached onto your pulse point and sucked, tongue flicking and teeth nipping gently. it made your back arch just slightly off the bed as you felt your panties clinging to your heat, which was becoming dewy with your juices. and as if he just had some kind of hunch on how damp you were growing because of him, he chuckled almost mockingly, warm palms sliding up your thighs and pushing up your dress.
"are you getting wet already, pretty? is that all it took for you? hmm?" he spread your legs to make room for himself, before his vision fell to the expanding wet spot on the center of your pink, cotton lace trim panties. his breath caught at the sight as he let out a shaky exhale. you felt so exposed - your face was reddening with warmth and your eyes had already gone cloudy despite him barely doing anything to you yet.
he gently reaches one finger between your legs and gently moves aside the strip covering your wetness, revealing your dripping, aching folds to his eyes. he lets out a broken, needy sound at the display - a mix between a low groan and a whimper. he curls that finger and slowly drags the undergarments all the way down your legs, tossing it somewhere, forgotten on your bedroom floor.
he brings his face closer to your heat, breath fanning on your oversensitive flesh as he trailed kisses up your inner thigh with as much patience as he could muster in this moment.
"my god, baby... you can't even fucking fathom how beautiful you are right now.."
you could barely process the flush his words were producing on the apples of your cheeks before you felt his lips press against you, making you choke out a soft gasp. he snickers at how effortlessly he pulls those lovely noises from you. he prefers to believe that none of those other assholes you were involved with got to you as much as he does. i mean, the proof is right here, isn't it?
he begins to place heated, open-mouthed kisses on your pussy, each one provoking a small shiver to ripple through you. then his tongue sweeps through your slit, all the way from bottom to top. it tugged a soft, needy whine from the back of your throat. your fingers hurried to grasp at his locks in between your legs, hips rolling forward and subconsciously seeking more of his mouth.
"there you go, sweetheart," he murmured against you, the sound delivering vibrations through your cunt, only adding to the ecstasy. "doing so good f'me.."
each filthy praise and desperate murmur that dripped from his lips like melted, drizzling honey only made you clench tighter around his tongue. he smirked against your soaked warmth, eyes flicking up to yours, which were half-lidded and pleasure-drunk. he knew what he was doing to you, and he fully intended on making you crumble for him like no other man had. and no other man ever will.
the tip of his tongue began circling and flitting against your extremely sensitive bud, forcing your sounds to evolve from simple whines and whimpers to uncontrolled moans and gasps, back arching off your sheets. and then you felt your eyes roll back and an unbridled wail push past your lips when he applied suction to your clit, your fingers tugging at his hair.
"jeno, fuck—! oh my god..."
he only doubled his efforts at your cry, determined to unravel you completely. one of his thick fingers teased your entrance before fully sinking it inside you, wet tongue still lapping and sucking at your puffy clit. the double sensation made a wave of blissful pleasure wash over you, making multiple whimpers of his name escape you.
and then he sped up. it felt less like he was doing it solely for your pleasure, and more like he himself was taking great delight in having your salty-sweet juices on his tongue.
another finger joined the one that was already curling inside you, scissoring to stretch you further. the tip of his tongue flicked faster against your swollen bud, your back arching and legs twitching. your hips began to buck and attempt to flee from his ministrations between your legs. so, his free hand reached up and placed one large palm in the center of your stomach, pressing down gently to stop you from slipping away. the pressure only made the tightening knot in your abdomen feel as though it was going to burst.
"don't move. i'm not done."
your sounds slowly became more high-pitched and frequent as you started to near your climax, fingers knotting into his hair and pulling as though he's currently your only anchor to this earth. he growl-hissed against your flesh at the sharp yank stinging his scalp, the feeling only spurring him on.
"j-jeno, oh my god... i'm gonna—!" you gasp.
jeno smirked darkly against your clit, still lapping at your clit like a pussy drunk man, a third finger teasing your dripping hole. he mutters the words hotly into your skin, which sends another shock of pleasure through your body. "think you can fit a third finger before you cum, baby? or is your pussy too tight for that?"
you were so close to your orgasm that you could practically taste it, and all that was spilling from you now were barely coherent babbles, broken whimpers, and frantic nods. he exhaled a laugh at your helplessness, the air blowing over your clit and only making your legs twitch once more. and then, one last flip of his tongue and a striking curl of his fingers sent you toppling over the edge. an intensely euphoric surge crashed into you as your orgasm hit: legs twitching, jaw going slack, digits plunging into his locks, all of it. jeno helped you ride through your climax, his movements slowing down so as to not overstimulate or pain you in any way.
after you come down from your high with your chest heaving and eyes fluttered shut, jeno finally withdraws from between your legs. his fingers slowly eased out from inside you as well, one final flutter of your walls punctuating his exit. when your heavy-lidded eyes do open, the sight that greets you is arguably filthier than the entirety of what he just did to you. holding your stare, he stuck his fingers, slick with your essence, into his mouth as he sucked them thoroughly. as if he couldn't bear to waste even a single drop of you.
you couldn't help but ask breathlessly, "been wanting to do that for a while, huh?"
his signature eye smile flashed across his features, the very one that makes him resemble an adorable Samoyed in human form. but right now, on him... it looked like pure, unadulterated sin. the condition he's in - hair mussed from your fingers, chin and mouth area still glistening with your juices, and his eyes, that remained utterly ravenous as they bored into yours. the sight alone made that familiar dampness in your core return, oozing out of your entrance in small driblets.
and then came his voice, raspy and slightly hoarse, and it sent a new jolt of fresh want gushing through your thumping veins.
"for a really long time, sweetheart. and it was better than any fantasy of mine."
he hooked his arms beneath your thighs and pulled you close, until you were pressed snugly against him. he leaned down, face hovering just above yours as his voice came out in a wanting, husky murmur, "and now all this... it's got me so hard, it hurts," he hoarsely declared. "fuck, baby, it really hurts. you'll help me, won't you? please.."
it was his indirect, almost bashful way of seeking permission to take things further than his mouth's devotion to you alone. he was undoubtedly pining for more, his body trembling almost imperceptibly above yours in sheer necessity. yet the way his eyes search yours makes it crystal-clear that he'd instantly stop if it was too much for you. even amidst his ardent lust, jeno's care and affection for you outweighed it all.
however, you found it absolutely ludicrous that he had even a shroud of doubt of your want, primarily because the amounts in which your arousal was dripping out of you and beginning to pool onto your sheets in a mortifyingly obvious stain should've been enough. but of course, jeno needed explicit consent. what a gentleman.
so you nodded, eyes still glassy with unsatisfied desire. you wanted to go further, perhaps even more than he did. you breathed, "yes.. yes, i want to. please?"
and holy shit, that was all he needed to hear. jeno's lips descend upon yours with zealousness, one hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you nearer while the other deftly pops open the buttons of his jeans and tugs the zipper downward. he shoves both the denim and his boxers down his hips impetuously. his throbbing length bounds free from the confines of fabric, slapping his abdomen as he yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor.
his eyes never leave yours as he strokes himself once, then twice, lining himself up to your opening before slowly pushing the mushroomy head inside. your walls immediately clench around him at the intrusion, eliciting a choked-off, squeaky gasp from you. he groans raggedly, one hand on your thigh to spread you wider for him as the other rests adjacent to your head on the sheets to keep him upright. in one more brisk movement, he's fully sheathed inside of you, his hold on your thigh tightening as he lets both of you adjust to the sensation.
"fuck, you're tight, baby—oh my god. gonna make me cum..." he mewled into your ear.
jeno babbled filthy praises and whimpers of pleasure continuously, beginning to rock into you slowly. his thrusts gradually began to accelerate, alongside his rants, which were becoming more frequent and lewd. however, you couldn't find any awareness in you (besides the extreme feelings of pleasure) to reply, so you laid there, twitching and trembling while your whines and moans resounded in the air. every drag of his cock inside your narrow, gummy walls sent shocks of ecstasy up your spine, creating a beautiful arch of your back.
he was so graciously endowed in the dick department that you could feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix every other thrust, despite the fact that he wasn't going as deep as he could.
his hand slid up your spine to tangle in your strands, tugging on them gently to tilt your head back, baring the skin of your neck to him. he left a few hickeys in his wake as he spoke, "this pussy was made for me, baby, i swear... i can feel it in how well you fucking take me. no other man fit this well inside you, and i know it. say you know it, too."
you gabbled out an embarrassingly unintelligible response, too lost in ecstasy to even form any coherent words. he chuckled at this, his plunges into you becoming deeper, hitting your cervix more distinctly now.
"can't talk? feels too good?" the jerk had the audacity to fuck you stupid like this and then mock you for sounding like you've never spoken in your life. and of course, his thrusts only deepened as his hand reached down to toy with your clit.
"well, you're gonna have to speak if you want to come. so say—fuck—that you're mine. that this perfect pussy... every inch of it and of you, is mine and will never be anyone else's. and god, i'll give you anything and everything you want, i swear.."
you cried, "yours, jeno, f-fuck! all yours, please, yours.. w-wanna come, please, please..."
he pounds more relentlessly into you, losing himself to the tight wetness around him as his mouth devours yours. his thumb on your clit presses faster circles, propelling you to your peak. it was clear that you were both on the verge of orgasm, apparent with all the noises of bliss filling the room.
"j-jeno, i'm coming! i'm—"
in no longer than a few more seconds, a second orgasm crashes into you, your hands wrapping around his neck and pulling your chest to his as you moan and wail into his ear. jeno's hips slam into yours a few more times before he buries himself right to the hilt, crushing you against him as he groans deeply, letting his white, hot release pipe into you.
and then he melts completely. any trace of the slightly mocking, dominant, and harsh demeanor he used with you during sex dissipates immediately. you feel his warm lips brush against your cheeks, neck, forehead (where he lingers for a moment.) your eyes are fluttered shut, limbs boneless and bordering on numb from the intense experience.
"you did really well for me, gorgeous. so, so good... all for me."
a few minutes pass like that, - arms and legs entangled with one another, lazy kisses and sweet words of affirmation. finally, he sits up slightly, tucking a couple sweaty strands of your hair sticking to your forehead back into place before softly murmuring, "did you mean what you said? that you'll be mine?"
your eyes flitted open, irises still hazy from the aftermath and swirling with something riskily close to love as you stare at him and nod.
"of course i meant that. i've liked you for a while now, i just never said anything because... well, i didn't know the extent of how you felt. i thought you viewed me as a friend, and i didn't wanna ruin that with you."
jeno lets out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head as he mutters, "and to think that this entire time i hid it from you because i thought the same exact thing. just a pair of dumbasses, both of us."
you both burst out into laughter, hugging each other tighter as he plants a few more kisses on the blue-purplish marks he left on your skin, mapping them like twinkling stars in the sky. he pecks his way up to your ear, which is when he whispers to you:
"i'll take you on a proper date soon. and then we can do this again for the rest of our lives."
you giggle softly, running a hand through his hair.
"possessive, are we?"
he doesn't look amused.
"okay, okay, god! fine, we'll date. loser."
he laughs and scoops you up from the bed, still planting kisses all over your face as he carries you to the shower, kicking the door open.
mark doesn’t like arguments, but he does defend what he believes in. passionately. almost to a fault. he’ll start out calm, hands up, saying, “okay, okay, i’m listening,” — but the second you challenge something he’s sure he’s right about, his eyebrows knit and he starts pacing lightly or shake his head unconsciously “i’m not trying to fight,” he insists, “i’m just saying, like, that’s not what happened.” he’s not raising his voice. he’s just stubborn. that earnest, frustrating kind of stubborn that comes from being too honest and too sure of what he remembers. and you’re tired. he can tell, but he’s still trying to finish his point, because in his mind, clearing it up will make things better. then he sees your lip tremble. everything in him deflates. he goes quiet, chewing his lip, shoulders lowering. “wait—wait, i’m sorry. i didn’t realize i was doing that,” he says softly. he sits beside you, leaning forward with his hands clasped. “explain it to me one more time, baby. i'm not gonna cut you off, i swear.” and when you finally let out what’s really bothering you, he listens for real.
—huang renjun
renjun’s biggest problem? he thinks rationality fixes everything. so when the argument begins, he goes straight into explanation mode, arms crossed, voice even, expression unreadable. “i’m not attacking you. i’m just explaining why it doesn’t make sense,” he says, which somehow makes it worse. you’re emotional. he’s logical. it’s oil and water.
the more upset you get, the more confusion flickers across his face, like he genuinely can’t grasp why you’re reacting that way. but then he sees it: the way you look away, shoulders tightening, eyes glossy. and something in him stops cold. his expression softens instantly. he uncrosses his arms, takes a step closer, voice dropping to something fragile. “hey… don’t cry. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. he pulls you into a quiet hug, one arm around your waist, the other stroking your hair. “i wasn’t trying to belittle you. i just… talk stupid when i care too much.” and he holds you until your breathing steadies.
—lee jeno
jeno is a logical-first, feelings-second kind of guy. and when you argue, you feel it more than ever. you’ll raise your concern and he’ll immediately respond with something like, “okay, but objectively—” and you want to scream. he doesn’t mean to be cold. he thinks offering solutions is being caring. but sometimes his explanations sound like he’s dismissing your feelings, even when he isn’t. when you snap, “can you stop being a robot for one second?” jeno shuts down. not angrily, just internalizing. his jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment like he’s recalibrating. when he finally speaks again, his voice is quiet, almost careful: “i’m not trying to invalidate you. i just don’t know how to handle it when you’re upset. i’m trying.” he sits next to you, hands clasped because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. “tell me what you need from me,” he says honestly. and once you explain it, he really listens and his whole demeanor shifts. “okay,” he says softly. “i can do that. i want to do that.” his effort is clumsy but genuine… and it melts you every time.
—lee haechan
haechan jokes when he’s nervous. which is the worst combination during an argument.
you’re upset, and he keeps trying to lighten the mood, tossing out comments like, “okay grumpy, relax,” not realizing he’s pouring gasoline on fire. when you finally snap, his face falls — like he genuinely didn’t expect it. around the boys he stays composed, pretending it’s fine, but the second you’re alone, he’s unusually quiet. he keeps glancing at you, eyes softening with every second. “what did i do?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. and when you tell him he hurt your feelings, his entire expression shifts — guilt taking over everything. he moves closer, tucking himself into your space, arms wrapping around your waist from the side. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs into your shoulder. “i should’ve read the room.” he kisses your cheek, nose, temple — tiny apologies scattered across your skin. “don’t shut me out, okay? i hate when you’re upset and i can’t fix it.” and he doesn’t let go until you melt into him.
—na jaemin
jaemin gets quiet. painfully quiet. he isn’t cold, he isn’t annoyed — he’s hurt. he sits still, eyes lowered, thinking too much all at once. when you snap at him, he absorbs it silently, nodding once like he deserves it. “i didn’t know i made you feel like that,” he says softly, which somehow breaks you more. he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t defend himself. he just retreats inward, processing. you move away and he follows a few steps, not suffocating, but close enough to show he cares. “i don’t want us to fight,” he murmurs. “tell me how to fix this.” and when you do, he listens like you’re giving him sacred instructions. he reaches for your hand slowly, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “come here,” he whispers, pulling you into a slow, grounding hug. his chin rests on your head, and he holds you like he’s trying to calm both your hearts. “i’m not going anywhere,” he adds quietly. “even when we’re like this.”
—zhong chenle
chenle reacts fast. talks fast. argues fast. he’ll notice something tiny, as trivial as your mismatched socks, or your forgotten umbrella. he'll comment immediately without thinking. on a good day, you laugh it off. on a bad one, like today, it grates. when you tell him to stop nagging, he scoffs, “i’m not nagging, i’m helping,” without realizing how sharp it sounds. but the moment he notices you shivering in the cold, or your eyes watering, or your silence stretching too long — he stops mid-sentence. “wait. are you actually upset?” his voice softens in a way it rarely does. he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around you, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “i’m sorry,” he mutters, eyes darting away shyly. “i didn’t mean to be annoying.” he holds your hand as you walk, thumb rubbing circles apologetically. “i just worry about you. too much, probably.” and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart wobble.
—park jisung
jisung panics during arguments. he hates raised voices, even slightly sharp tones. the second he feels tension, he starts stumbling over his words, eyes widening in confusion and concern. “wait—what did i do? i swear i didn’t mean—” he keeps reaching toward you and pulling back, unsure if touching you will make it worse. when you look away, his whole face crumples. “don’t… don’t be mad at me,” he says quietly, almost pleading. he sits in front of you, knees drawn in, trying so hard to understand. “just tell me,” he begs softly. “i’ll fix it, i promise.” and as soon as you explain, he exhales shakily and scoots closer, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “i’m really sorry,” he clings to you while he whispers. “i don’t want to lose you.”
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 synopsis- You thought moving into your best friend’s party house would be the most reckless decision you would make all year—turns out that was only the beginning. Now you’re trying to figure out whether risking your friendship is worth admitting what you’ve both been pretending not to feel.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 warnings- heavy alcohol use, sex under the influence, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), smoking, partying.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 w/c- 17k
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Now playing: Can’t feel my face- The Weeknd
a/n- hiii guys, I’m back hehe!!! Sorry about the dense format and having to break this up into so many parts, tumblr is weird with length loll. I really hope you guys enjoy this story and please, let me know your thoughts, and if you'd like to be tagged in future parts. Luv you all mwah mwah 💋 (sorry if you've already seen this exact message on the last post lmaooo)
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Friday finally arrived in the blink of an eye. By late afternoon the house already felt alive, music echoing softly through the upstairs flat while you moved around the kitchen helping Jaemin finish setting everything up before people arrived. The windows were open, letting warm air drift through the space while string lights glowed faintly around the backyard pool. Jaemin was standing on top of the couch trying to fix one of the LED strips near the ceiling when you walked back in carrying bags of chips against your chest.
"You're gonna fall." You warned immediately, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter while watching him stretch farther toward the ceiling.
"I'm fine." He replied confidently, though the second the lights flickered completely off you just crossed your arms and stared at him. Jaemin looked up at the dead strip for a moment before sighing under his breath.
"Okay." He admitted reluctantly while climbing down from the couch. "Maybe I'm not fine."
You laughed softly, shaking your head as he stepped around you toward the speaker. Before either of you could continue, headlights flashed through the front windows followed by loud voices outside and the sound of something heavy slamming against the front steps. Jaemin froze instantly, already looking exhausted.
"They're here." He muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face while heading toward the stairs.
The second he opened it, Haechan practically stumbled inside wearing black swim trunks, sunglasses, and a backwards cap despite the fact the sun was already starting to set.
"BUSINESSPEOPLE!" He yelled dramatically, throwing both arms up like he'd just arrived at a concert instead of a house party.
Behind him, Renjun struggled dragging a wagon overflowing with alcohol bottles while another guy pushed a second wagon up the front step behind him. You blinked slowly at the amount of liquor packed inside.
"That is concerning." You said honestly while staring at the bottles stacked almost dangerously high.
"It's called preparation." Haechan corrected while kicking the door shut behind him.
"It's called alcoholism." Renjun muttered under his breath while trying to pull the wagon over the doorway without flipping it over completely.
The guy behind him finally looked up then, immediately smiling the second his eyes landed on you. "Oh." He said softly, slightly breathless from dragging the wagon. "You must be Y/n."
You smiled back naturally. "And you must be Jisung."
"The famous Jisung." Haechan cut in dramatically while disappearing into the kitchen.
"The employed Jisung." Renjun laughed from behind him.
Jisung laughed quietly under his breath before holding his hand out toward you. "Nice to finally meet you." He said warmly, and you shook his hand lightly.
"Nice to meet you too."
Jaemin appeared beside you carrying one of the coolers before either of you could say much else. "Careful." He said casually while walking past the two of you toward the kitchen. "He gets attached easily."
Jisung immediately looked offended. "That's actually hurtful." He complained while following behind him.
"It's also true." Renjun added without looking up.
You laughed softly to yourself while following them inside. The entire house became loud almost immediately after that. Bottles clinked against counters, ice poured into coolers, music got turned up louder. Everyone moved around each other quickly trying to finish setup before people arrived. Haechan was already taking shots before the party even started. Everyone was dressed for the pool already. Haechan and Renjun were shirtless in swim trunks while Jisung wore gray swim shorts and a loose white tank top that kept slipping off one shoulder every time he bent down to unpack something. And Jaemin— you immediately forced yourself to stop looking. Black swim shorts, oversized white button up hanging open over his shoulders, sleeves rolled to his elbows, slightly damp hair from the shower he'd taken earlier. It was honestly irritating.
"So." Jisung said while crouching beside you to unpack mixers from one of the boxes. "Is it true you basically co run this place now?"
You laughed softly while stacking juice bottles onto the counter. "Apparently."
"She's terrifying with business." Jaemin said from across the kitchen while organizing cups into neat stacks.
You narrowed your eyes immediately. "You made me color code spreadsheets."
"Because organization matters." He replied simply.
Jisung smiled while shaking his head. "See? I already know I'm gonna like you more."
Jaemin immediately looked up. "Relax." He answered so quickly that it made you laugh before you could stop yourself.
By eleven thirty the house was packed. Music shook through the walls while people crowded shoulder to shoulder through the upstairs flat, laughter and shouted conversations filling the air. The backyard glowed beneath the pool lights while people danced barefoot on the patio with drinks in their hands. Somehow, this time, you weren't nervous at all. You moved through the crowd easier, recognizing people from campus while others greeted you like they already knew you from all the flyers and posts throughout the week.
At one point you found yourself near the kitchen laughing at something someone had said when Haechan suddenly appeared beside you holding two shot glasses already filled. "No." You said immediately, already laughing while he shoved one toward you anyway.
"Yes." He replied confidently. "And before you start panicking, this is normal alcohol. Like actual low percentage alcohol, for the boring people."
"You almost killed me last week." You reminded him while eyeing the shot suspiciously.
"That was an accident." He defended dramatically.
"That sounded very unserious."
"It was very unserious." He admitted.
Before you could answer, Jaemin somehow appeared beside you like he always did whenever alcohol got near you.
Haechan groaned loudly. "Why do you keep popping up every time she drinks?"
"Because I don't trust you." Jaemin answered without hesitation before looking at you instead. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
You looked down at the shot glass for a second before glancing back up at him. You felt okay tonight, more than okay. "I think I'll be alright."
Jaemin studied your face for a moment before finally nodding once. "Okay." He said carefully. "Just don't overdo it."
Haechan rolled his eyes dramatically. "You two stress me out." He complained before lifting his shot glass into the air. "To new beginnings!"
You laughed before clinking your glass against his. The alcohol burned a little going down, but nowhere near as horribly as last week. Haechan pointed at you proudly the second you swallowed. "See? Safe."
"Barely." You coughed dramatically while Jaemin laughed quietly beside you.
"How do you feel?" He asked, watching you carefully.
"Alive." You answered, making him smile slightly.
That made the corner of his mouth lift slightly. "That's already progress."
Twenty minutes later the warmth from the alcohol settled comfortably through your body, just enough to soften everything around the edges. Music sounded fuller, lights looked prettier. You found yourself laughing harder than usual while dancing badly near the kitchen with Haechan. Eventually your eyes drifted back toward the counter again, another shot wouldn't hurt... probably. You wandered back over toward Jaemin who was pouring himself a drink near the island. The second he looked at your face he sighed. "That look means trouble."
You leaned against the counter beside him. "I want another one."
"A second shot?" He repeated slowly, looking over at you carefully.
"It's fine this time." You defended quickly.
"You said that last week too."
You burst out laughing loud enough that someone nearby glanced over smiling. "Come on." You said while nudging his arm lightly. "One more."
Jaemin stared at you for a second before sighing dramatically. "You make bad decisions look convincing."
"That means yes?" You smiled.
He shrugged. "I can't control your actions, I can only be there while you're doing them."
You grinned immediately while he grabbed two shot glasses from beside the bottles. This time the two of you took the shots together standing shoulder to shoulder near the kitchen island while music blasted around you. Immediately afterward Jaemin made the most disgusted face imaginable, grabbing his drink instantly. "Oh, that's horrible." He complained while you laughed so hard you almost choked. "I hate alcohol."
"And you keep drinking with me." You said.
"I'm supervising you."
You smiled. "That sounds fake."
"It's completely real." He argued while following you toward the bar area where Jisung was already mixing drinks for people.
The second he saw you approach, his face brightened slightly. "You made it." He said while pouring juice into another cup.
"Barely." You replied dramatically.
"That's the spirit." He smiled before looking between you and Jaemin. "What can I get you?"
"Something strong." You answered while leaning against the counter.
Jisung nodded immediately. "Strong drinks are actually my specialty, it's a gift." He replied smoothly, making you laugh quietly while you watched him mix the drink together.
"You know." He said after a second while handing the cup over to you. "Jaemin described you very differently."
Jaemin immediately looked over from beside you. "Why are you talking about me?"
Jisung ignored him completely. "I expected you to be mean."
You gasped softly. "Excuse me?"
"That's not what I said!" Jaemin defended immediately while pointing toward him. "I said sarcastic, not mean."
"Same thing." Jisung answered casually.
You laughed into your drink while Jaemin shook his head under his breath.
"I think he undersold you though." Jisung continued while leaning against the counter now. "You're actually nice."
Before you could answer, Jaemin leaned one arm against the counter beside you. "She's nice for now." He said casually, though there was something smoother underneath it. "Give it an hour."
You looked over at him immediately. Jaemin naturally always found ways to pull your attention back toward him every time it drifted elsewhere.
Jisung noticed too, judging by the small smile that crossed his face. "You always this protective?" He asked casually.
"I'm hosting." Jaemin replied easily.
"That didn't answer the question."
Jaemin just smiled into his drink instead of answering, which somehow made it worse.
By the end of the night everyone was exhausted and still at least slightly tipsy. The party had somehow been even bigger than opening night, but smoother too. People slowly left out around three in the morning while music softened through the house and the backyard finally quieted down. Haechan was the first one to suggest the pool.
"Absolutely." Renjun smiled, immediately while grabbing a towel.
Ten minutes later all four of you were in the water. The pool lights glowed beneath the surface while music played faintly from inside the house. The cold water felt good against your overheated skin after hours inside the crowded house. Haechan kept trying to splash everyone at once while Renjun floated near the deep end laughing at him. At one point Jaemin splashed you directly in the face for absolutely no reason whatsoever. You stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, you wanna fight?" You asked while wiping water from your face.
His grin widened instantly. "Absolutely."
Five minutes later the two of you were splashing each other like children while Haechan screamed dramatically in the background about getting water in his eyes. Eventually Renjun climbed out first looking exhausted. "I'm going inside before you people kill me." He muttered with a smile while grabbing his towel.
"Coward." Haechan yelled after him before eventually following too after complaining about being hungry. "Don't stay out here too long." He warned. "Or do. I'm not your dad."
Then suddenly it was just you and Jaemin left in the pool. The night had gone quieter now, cool air drifting through the backyard while water moved softly around you both beneath the glowing lights. You leaned back against the edge of the pool catching your breath while Jaemin floated nearby. After a moment he looked over at you, expression softer now than it had been all night. "You had fun tonight." He said quietly, it wasn't really a question.
You smiled tiredly. "I did."
Something about your answer seemed to please him. "Told you." He said softly.
"You were right." You admitted while rolling your eyes slightly. "Don't let it get to your head."
"Too late."
Jaemin floated slightly closer, water shifting softly around him. "Tomorrow's gonna be worse." He warned teasingly.
You groaned dramatically. "I forgot there was one tomorrow."
"Haechan probably already posted videos from tonight."
"Oh no." You smiled.
"Yeah." He laughed quietly. "We're done for."
Honestly, you couldn't remember the last time you relaxed this much around this many people without feeling drained afterward. Tonight should've overwhelmed you, but it almost felt easy. Then suddenly cold water hit your shoulder.
You snapped your head toward him immediately. "Did you just splash me?"
Jaemin was already grinning. "Maybe."
"You literally started this last time too."
"And?"
You narrowed your eyes before splashing him back harder.
Water hit him across the face while he laughed under his breath, wiping his eyes. "Okay, alright."
"You deserved that."
He started moving toward you through the water slowly. "You're getting way too confident."
You pointed at him warningly. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
Before you could answer, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the edge of the pool fast enough that a startled laugh escaped you. Water splashed around both of you while you instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders to steady yourself.
"Jaemin—" You screamed.
"You talk too much." He said lowly.
You splashed water directly into his face again. He laughed, low and breathless, tightening his grip around your waist before you could pull away again. The movement brought you closer than either of you probably intended, then closer again. You tried shifting backward, but your foot slipped slightly against the pool floor, and instinctively your legs wrapped around his waist to catch yourself, arms wrapping around his neck.
Everything went quiet. The water moved quietly around you both while Jaemin's hands settled automatically at your waist beneath the surface, holding you steady. Your arms stayed looped loosely around the back of his neck, more for balance than anything else, but neither of you moved to let go immediately. The air suddenly felt colder or maybe you were just too aware of how close he was. His face was right in front of yours. Wet hair falling across his forehead, water dripping slowly from his jaw while his breathing stayed uneven from laughing seconds earlier, you could feel it against your skin. Jaemin looked at you for a second too long, not joking, not teasing. Your stomach twisted strangely as you stared at him back.
You laughed softly under your breath mostly because the silence was getting worrying. "We're kinda close."
His eyes flicked down toward your mouth for the briefest second before lifting back up. "...Yeah." He said quietly.
Neither of you moved which somehow made everything worse. Or maybe better, you weren't sure anymore. Then slowly, almost awkwardly, you loosened your arms from around his neck first. Jaemin let go of your waist a second later, though his hands lingered for half a second before dropping back into the water. You both pulled apart carefully, the silence afterward felt different now. Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck while looking away briefly with a quiet laugh under his breath like he was trying to reset himself mentally.
At the exact same time, both of you spoke. "We should probably go inside."
You blinked, then laughed immediately. "That was awful timing."
"Actually painful." He muttered, laughing too.
You shook your head, smiling while he climbed out of the pool first. Water ran down his legs while he grabbed one of the towels tossed near the chairs. Then he looked back toward you and held his hand out naturally, like he didn't even think about doing it and you took it. His hand tightened around yours as he pulled you up carefully from the water, steadying you when your foot slipped slightly against the concrete. Again, neither of you let go immediately.
Jaemin cleared his throat softly before finally reaching for your towel instead and draping it around your shoulders. "C'mon." He said quietly. "It's freezing."
You nodded. And together, the two of you walked back inside.
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You woke up the next morning slowly, rubbing at your eyes before turning toward the clock sitting beside your bed: 10:25 AM. A relieved sigh escaped you as you dropped back against the mattress for another second, staring blankly at the ceiling. You actually got to sleep in a little.. thank god.
Your body still felt warm from the night before, exhaustion sitting in you in the best possible way, the kind that only came after a genuinely good night. Your head didn't hurt surprisingly, but faint memories still drifted through your mind in flashes—music shaking the walls, water splashing beneath glowing pool lights, Jaemin laughing so hard at one point he nearly slipped trying to splash you back... the moment you got too close. You physically covered your face with one hand. God, you could still almost feel exactly how close he'd been. The warmth of his hands against your waist despite the cold water, the way he looked at you like he almost forgot himself for a second. And the worst part was you hadn't moved either, that was the problem.
You trusted Jaemin more than almost anyone. Living together already blurred enough lines on its own. Late nights together, grocery runs, cleaning up after parties, him checking on you constantly like it was instinct. It would've been easy to let yourself read too much into things if you weren't careful. And you really, really didn't want to ruin this because whatever existed between you right now worked. You didn't want to be the person who complicated it.
Still... your stomach twisted awkwardly remembering the way he said yeah...we are.
You reached over for your phone off the nightstand, blinking against the brightness of the screen. The second it unlocked, notifications flooded the screen so aggressively you actually laughed. Your following on Instagram had gone up by over fifty overnight. And the tags—videos from the party filled your notifications. Blurry clips of people screaming lyrics in the kitchen, videos of Haechan dancing horribly in the middle of the living room, pictures around the pool. There was even one horribly blurry video of you laughing while Jaemin splashed water at you from across the pool. You stared at it for maybe a second too long before tossing your phone back onto the bed—nope, absolutely not thinking about that right now.
You dragged yourself up to start getting ready. Soft music drifted faintly through the ceiling while footsteps moved around above you. You made your way upstairs slowly, the smell of leftover alcohol hitting you the second you stepped into Jaemin's flat. He looked up immediately. "Hey, good morning." He smiled, pausing mid sweep with the broom in his hands.
"Good morning." You replied automatically, smiling back while grabbing some of the abandoned cups off the counter and tossing them into the trash beside the island.
"Did you have fun?" He asked while sweeping again.
You nodded almost immediately. "Lots." You admitted honestly before glancing over at him. "Did you?"
"Yeah." He answered with a grin. "Party was a hit." Then he laughed quietly under his breath. "Though, I didn't get as fucked up as I hoped."
You smiled while wiping part of the counter down with a rag. "There's always tonight."
"True." He agreed before leaning the broom against the counter. "Are you drinking tonight again?"
"Yeah." You admitted. "But I probably won't get as messed up as you... taking it easy."
"Safe." He approved with a nod.
"Boring." You corrected immediately, pointing toward him slightly. "But somebody's gotta make sure everything stays in check around here."
"You think too hard." He told you while carrying empty bottles toward the trash bag near the door. "You're supposed to enjoy yourself too."
You shrugged lightly. "Someone has to be responsible."
"Not you, pretty girl." He answered immediately.
Your eyes flickered toward him before you could stop yourself. Jaemin didn't even seem to realize how quickly he said it. He just kept moving around the kitchen casually like nothing happened, but something about the way he looked at you for that split second made your stomach feel weirdly unsteady again—like last night.
You looked away, grabbing another cup off the counter before the silence could settle too long. "Jisung coming tonight?" You asked casually.
Jaemin's eyes cut toward you instantly. "No." He answered a little too fast. "He has work." Then he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why? You like him or something?"
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "He's cute, that's all."
Jaemin let out a low hum while looking back toward the floor he was sweeping. "Well." He said casually after a second. "I wouldn't."
You raised a brow. "Wouldn't what?"
"Pursue that." He said simply.
"And why not?" You questioned while leaning against the counter.
"Because." He shrugged lightly, though his grip shifted higher on the broom handle. "He's not your type personality wise." A grin tugged at his mouth after a second. "And because I'm not dealing with my entire friend group imploding over drama."
You laughed again, while nodding. "Fair."
"But?" He pressed immediately.
"But nothing." You answered honestly. "I wasn't planning on it anyways."
"Good." He said.
He looked almost annoyed with himself for a second before masking it with another smile, but the damage was already done. And maybe you were imagining it, but he looked weirdly satisfied by your answer.
A second later he sighed dramatically and dropped the broom against the counter again. "I'm starving." He said while rubbing his stomach. "Are you?"
"Yeah."
"You wanna go get food?" He asked while grabbing his keys off the counter. "We'll go to your favorite spot."
You smiled immediately. "Sounds good to me."
You turned to head downstairs for your shoes, but before you could get farther than two steps Jaemin grabbed your wrist lightly. You turned back toward him confused while he dug through the pocket of his hoodie. A second later he pulled out a thick wad of folded cash and dropped it into your hand.
"This belongs to you." He said simply. "Two hundred and fifty even."
Your eyes widened slightly. "Sick."
Jaemin laughed quietly under his breath at how fast your face lit up. "There's gonna be even more people tonight." He warned while leaning back against the counter. "Are you okay with that?"
You nodded once. "I have to be."
"No you don't." He corrected immediately, expression softening. "This is your place too. If you want a max amount of people, say the word and I'll make it happen."
And there it was again—that thing he kept doing. Because Jaemin never treated you like you were just renting space from him. Never made decisions without considering you first. Half the time it felt less like you were living in his house and more like the two of you had somehow built this weird life together accidentally.
You smiled softly. "Thank you, Jaemin." You said genuinely. "But I promise, it's okay with me."
And honestly you thought he was exaggerating about more people...he wasn't.
By the time eleven rolled around that night, the house was so packed it almost stopped feeling real. Bodies filled every corner of the upstairs flat shoulder to shoulder while music blasted loud enough to vibrate through the floors. The backyard somehow looked even worse, people crowded around the glowing pool beneath the string lights, drinks raised in the air, groups dancing.
You stopped halfway through the kitchen entrance just to stare. "Oh my goodness." You muttered under your breath while squeezing through the crowd toward the kitchen.
Tonight was bigger... way bigger. The energy felt completely different too. Opening night had felt experimental, last night felt exciting, tonight felt like this had officially become something. The second you reached the bar area, you grabbed a cup and immediately started making yourself a drink just to survive the noise around you. Before you could even finish pouring the juice, Jaemin appeared beside you like usual.
"You look stressed already." He laughed while reaching over your shoulder for a bottle.
His cheeks were faintly flushed already, sleeves rolled up while his hair fell messily over his forehead from moving around. Somehow he looked even better when he was slightly drunk, which felt unfair.
"I can't even see the floor anymore." You complained while glancing around the packed kitchen.
Jaemin laughed quietly before pouring two shots.. "Relax." He said while handing one toward you. "You survived last night."
You eyed the glass suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Normal alcohol." He promised. "I checked personally."
"That means nothing coming from you." You said sarcastically.
He laughed under his breath before lightly tapping his shot glass against yours. "Trust me."
The alcohol burned going down, but this time instead of fear or worry, you felt excitement, freedom. Haechan found you maybe ten minutes later already holding another bottle in his hand.
"There you are!" He yelled dramatically over the music before shoving another shot glass toward you.
You stared at him. "Again?"
"Yes again." He answered like it was obvious. "Tonight's a celebration."
And you can't even lie, you stopped overthinking after that. Another shot happened, then another drink, then another shot. At some point your body stopped feeling heavy and instead started feeling weightless—happy. The music sounded louder, the lights looked prettier. Everything around you blurred together into flashing colors and laughter. And the strangest part was you weren't even scared, not even a little.
At some point you found Haechan near the middle of the living room dancing with a drink spilling from his hand. "Oh my god." You laughed loudly while pushing through the crowd toward him. "What are you doing?"
"Winning." He yelled confidently before grabbing your wrist and spinning you directly into the crowd with him.
The two of you danced like complete idiots in the middle of the packed room while music pounded through the walls. Haechan kept nearly losing his balance while trying to spin you dramatically and every time he stumbled you laughed harder. Then suddenly Jaemin appeared beside both of you, his eyes slightly glassy while he laughed at whatever the hell Haechan was doing.
"There y'all are." He said, but he was only looking directly at you. Then his eyes narrowed slightly, finger pointing at you. "Wait—are you drunk?"
You immediately burst into giggles. "Yeah."
Jaemin stared at you for a second before laughing too. "Me too."
Haechan yelled excitedly while throwing both arms around both of you at once. All three of you nearly lost balance instantly. The music was loud enough you could barely hear yourselves think, but somehow you didn't care. Everything felt loud and bright and good. And somewhere deep down, part of you realized something—you hadn't felt this free in years.
Eventually Haechan disappeared somewhere into the crowd, chasing after someone who stole his drink, leaving you and Jaemin dancing together near the middle of the living room. Well... as alone as two people could be in a packed house. He spun you around recklessly to songs neither of you fully knew while both of you laughed hard enough to lose balance more than once.
Every time you looked at him, he was already looking at you first, looking just as happy as you felt. There was something different about tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he kept close to you all night without realizing it, maybe it was the pool last night still lingering awkwardly between you both. Whatever it was, you felt it. Especially when his hand stayed at your waist a second too long after spinning you back toward him. Especially when you noticed he wasn't really paying attention to anyone else around him anymore.
People around you started yelling suddenly while someone shoved both of you toward the coffee table near the center of the room. "Absolutely not—" You started laughing immediately.
"Yes absolutely." Jaemin interrupted while climbing onto the table first before holding his hand out toward you.
You should've said no, instead you grabbed his hand anyway. The second he pulled you up beside him, the room erupted loudly around you. Phones lifted instantly recording while people cheered beneath the flashing lights. Jaemin was laughing so hard beside you he could barely stay balanced, one hand gripping yours tighter every time either of you slipped. For once you weren't thinking about anything. Not your past, not the drinking, not the weird line between friendship and whatever this was slowly turning into—you were just happy.
Eventually Jaemin grabbed your wrist gently while catching his breath. "I need air." He admitted loudly over the music.
You nodded immediately before pulling him through the crowd toward the balcony. The cool night air hit your skin instantly once the door slid shut behind you. "Oh my god." You groaned dramatically while leaning against the railing. "That's so much better."
Jaemin laughed softly beside you while running a hand through his messy hair. "This is insane." He admitted while glancing back toward the packed house.
"But fun." You added quickly.
"But fun." He agreed with a grin.
For a second the two of you just stood there listening to the muffled bass from inside, somewhere below voices echoed around the backyard pool, while cool air drifted around you both. Then your expression softened slightly while looking over at him. "I'm really happy I met you." You admitted suddenly.
Jaemin blinked slightly like the words caught him off guard, before smiling smaller this time. "Yeah?" He asked quietly.
You nodded. "Like genuinely." You laughed softly under your breath. "I think living here would actually suck if it was with anyone else."
And you meant it. Somewhere between the late night conversations, dancing in your living room, cleaning up together every morning, or even those stressful study sessions, meals after class, and the way he constantly looked out for you without making it obvious—he became important.
"I love you." He admitted quietly.
You smiled lazily. "Good."
Before either of you could say anything else, the balcony door slid open again and Renjun stepped outside carrying a thick stack of cash in one hand and his phone in the other. His hair was damp from sweat, cheeks slightly flushed while the bass from inside spilled out behind him. "It's officially a full house." He announced immediately while shutting the door behind him with his foot. "No more people can physically fit in here."
Jaemin laughed quietly under his breath while taking the money from him. "That bad?"
Renjun pointed back toward the house. "I just watched three people share one chair. Someone's sitting on the kitchen floor drinking juice straight from the bottle. We've lost control."
You burst out laughing while leaning harder against the balcony railing.
"And." Renjun continued while gesturing toward the money. "This is tonight's total."
Jaemin looked down at the stack, eyebrows lifting slightly before he started flipping through the bills quickly out of habit. "I'll give you your share tomorrow." He promised.
"Perfect." Renjun replied immediately, already reaching for the balcony door again. "Because I'm done being responsible for tonight." He pointed between the two of you with a grin. "Try not to fall into the pool or make out while I'm gone."
Your eyes widened instantly. "Oh my god, get out."
Renjun laughed loudly while slipping back inside before either of you could throw something at him. The second the door shut again, silence settled back over the balcony again.
You looked over at Jaemin immediately. "He's so annoying."
"He thinks he's funny." Jaemin replied while still counting the money.
You shrugged. "He kinda is."
"Don't encourage him."
You laughed softly while watching him separate the cash into smaller stacks. It was strange seeing him like this—tipsy and smiling one second, then focused and organized the next. Even drunk, he still somehow kept everything together.
Eventually he peeled off part of the stack and held it toward you. "Your share."
You stared at it for a second before immediately shaking your head. "Tomorrow." You said while pushing his hand away lightly. "I genuinely cannot hold any money right now."
Jaemin laughed quietly. "Fair enough."
He shoved the money back into the pile, but before he could pocket it completely, the balcony door slammed open hard enough to make both of you jump. Haechan stood there slightly out of breath and for once, he looked completely serious. "Someone tried getting into that room." He said quickly.
The shift in Jaemin happened instantly, every trace of drunken softness disappeared from his face so fast it almost startled you.
"What?" He asked sharply. "Did they get in?"
"No, I stopped them." Haechan explained quickly. "But they were messing with the handle."
Jaemin's jaw tightened immediately. You'd seen him irritated before, frustrated, but this felt different.
"I'll handle it." He said already moving toward the door.
"Jaemin—" You started instinctively, but he was already halfway inside. And then he was gone.
You stayed outside longer than you meant to afterward, leaning against the railing while the cool air slowly cleared your head. At first you expected Jaemin to come back laughing about some drunk idiot, but he didn't. Time kept passing, the music inside kept going. And eventually the excitement from earlier started settling into exhaustion instead, your chest felt strangely empty now. You sighed before finally pushing yourself off the railing and heading downstairs to your flat.
You changed into an oversized shirt before curling up on the couch with the TV on low volume, letting random movies play just for background noise. Honestly, you weren't even tired anymore. Your mind kept replaying the night instead, the dancing, the balcony, the way Jaemin kept looking at you like he almost forgot there were other people in the room. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself with a quiet groan, this was bad, like... really, really bad. You were starting to want things you definitely shouldn't want.
Maybe thirty minutes later, soft knocks sounded against your door. Your head lifted immediately. The second you opened it, Jaemin stood there looking exhausted now, hoodie hanging loosely over his shoulders.
"There you are." You said softly before stepping aside automatically to let him in.
He walked inside with a sigh before dropping heavily onto the couch. "Sorry." He muttered while leaning his head back against the cushions. "People are annoying."
You smiled slightly while sitting back down beside him. "Did you fix it?"
"Yeah." He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "Some drunk guy thought it'd be funny to mess with the door that said off limits."
There was still tension lingering in his shoulders though and you noticed it immediately. "You okay?" You asked quieter this time.
Jaemin looked over at you for a second before nodding once. "Yeah." He said, though he sounded more tired than anything else now. "Just killed the mood a little."
You hummed softly before handing him part of the blanket beside you. For a while the two of you just sat there quietly watching whatever random movie played across the TV screen. The party had been over for a while, you could faintly hear Haechan's screams telling people to leave even from down here.
Jaemin glanced over at you again, a small smile slowly pulling at his mouth. "Tonight was fun." He admitted.
You smiled immediately. "Really fun."
"You were dancing on tables." He said, shaking his head in fake disappointment, though you could see the amusement in his eyes.
"You were too." You said.
"That's different."
"It isn't." You smiled.
He laughed softly under his breath while shaking his head. The silence after that felt weird... maybe it was the leftover alcohol still faintly in your system, maybe exhaustion, maybe it was the way he looked sitting there beside you. Whatever it was, your hand slowly drifted across the couch cushion between you both before you could overthink it. And slowly—you held his hand. Jaemin's eyes flickered downward briefly, but he didn't pull away. Instead his fingers tightened around yours gently like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he wanted to do it too. Neither of you said anything, you just sat there shoulder to shoulder watching the movie while his thumb brushed absentmindedly once against your hand.
Then suddenly your door swung open. "There you guys are." Haechan announced dramatically while stumbling inside.
You let go of Jaemin's hand so fast it almost hurt your wrist. Haechan narrowed his eyes immediately, suspiciously.
Jaemin somehow looked completely unbothered. "You're still here?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping.
"My ride canceled on me." Haechan complained dramatically, before collapsing onto the armchair nearby. "Can I crash here?"
Jaemin sighed tiredly while rubbing his face. "Yeah, you can take my couch."
Haechan gasped loudly. "Wow, not even your bed? After everything we've been through?"
You laughed while Jaemin grabbed a pillow and threw it directly at his face. "Shut up."
Haechan laughed loudly while catching the pillow against his chest before immediately collapsing sideways against Jaemin's shoulder dramatically.
"I love you so much." He slurred emotionally. "You're actually a genius for making this place a party house."
Jaemin groaned. "You said this last weekend."
"Because it's true every weekend."
Still laughing quietly to yourself, you leaned against Jaemin too without really thinking about it and he let you. Haechan cuddled dramatically against one side of him while you rested quietly against the other, all three of you exhausted beneath the glow of the TV screen, while the house finally started going quiet.
═════════════════════════
You blinked awake slowly, face pressed awkwardly into the couch cushion as sunlight pushed through the gap in the curtains. Your neck hurt, your legs hurt, and honestly everything felt stiff in the worst way possible. For a few seconds you just laid there staring blankly ahead, trying to figure out where exactly you were before the sound of snoring somewhere nearby dragged you fully awake. You pushed yourself up slightly, immediately realizing why your body felt so uncomfortable.
Haechan was sprawled out across your rug, one arm thrown over his face while he snored loud enough to shake the room. And Jaemin was still sitting upright beside you on the couch, head tipped awkwardly against the cushion behind him like he'd fallen asleep mid conversation. Your legs were stretched across his lap, tangled beneath a blanket, and one of his hands rested loosely around your shin like he'd fallen asleep there without even realizing it. You sat up too quickly, your foot accidentally kicking Haechan in the side while your shoulder bumped hard into Jaemin's arm.
"What the fuck." Haechan groaned immediately, rubbing at his face while sitting up off the floor.
"Sorry." You muttered quickly, fixing your hair before turning toward Jaemin. "Oh my god, sorry."
"It's okay." Jaemin said through a yawn, dragging a hand slowly through his messy hair. His voice still sounded half asleep, low and rough in a way that made the room somehow feel quieter.
"FUCK!" Haechan suddenly shouted, scrambling to his feet so fast he almost slipped on the rug. "I'm missing my marketing class."
You and Jaemin both stared at him blankly for a second before slowly looking at each other.
"It's Sunday, Haechan." You said flatly.
He froze mid panic, blinking twice before relief covered his face. "Shit." He exhaled dramatically. "You're right."
Jaemin rubbed both hands over his face tiredly. "You're an idiot."
"Yeah, probably." Haechan yawned while grabbing his phone from the coffee table. "I think I'm gonna head home honestly. If I stay here any longer I'll actually die."
You laughed softly. "See you later."
"Later." Jaemin mumbled without lifting his head fully.
The front door shut behind Haechan a second later, and suddenly the apartment went completely too quiet. You stayed sitting there awkwardly for a second, pulling absentmindedly at the sleeve of your shirt mostly just to give yourself something to do. Honestly, you didn't really know how to act right now.
Last night kept replaying every time you looked at him for too long. The balcony, the dancing, falling asleep practically folded into him on the couch, holding his hand without even thinking about it. None of it felt embarrassing exactly, and that was the problem. You kept waiting for him to say something first, but he didn't. He just leaned back against the couch slowly waking up, sunlight catching along the side of his face while he blinked tiredly toward the ceiling. You cleared your throat awkwardly. "What a night honestly."
He finally looked over at you, a grin slowly pulling onto his face. "I know. Can't wait to do it again honestly."
You laughed quietly, relieved by how normal he sounded, like maybe you were the only one overthinking things. "Me too."
But even with the joking tone, there was still something sitting underneath everything now, not awkwardness exactly, just awareness. "You ready to clean right now or no?" You asked.
Jaemin groaned dramatically and dropped his head back against the couch. "Absolutely not."
"That means yes." You said, slapping his thigh as you stood up.
He stared at the spot, before looking up at you with a smile. "That means give me ten minutes to mourn my freedom first."
"Too late." You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him up.
Cleaning after the parties had somehow become weirdly enjoyable. Or maybe it was just because it was with him. The two of you moved around the upstairs flat together throwing away cups, wiping down counters, opening windows to let clean fresh air into the house. Music played quietly from the speaker while sunlight filled the kitchen, making the disaster from last night feel less gross and more ridiculous.
Jaemin was standing on the counter trying to pull streamers off the ceiling while you tied up another trash bag full of bottles. "You know." He started while struggling with tape stuck to his fingers. "I think people should get fined for glitter. I didn't even buy glitter." He held his hand up dramatically. "Why is it everywhere?"
You laughed under your breath while dragging the trash bag toward the door. "Maybe stop inviting the glitter people"
He glanced at you. "That sounds discriminatory."
"You'll live." You said, shaking your head.
Jaemin finally jumped down from the counter, landing directly in front of you without you noticing. You turned around to face him, accidentally bumping into his chest. Your eyes lifted automatically before you could stop yourself, a quick breathless "sorry" leaving your mouth as you backed into the counter. He was still close though, way too close.
"There's something on your face." He laughed, looking at you.
You frowned slightly, wiping your cheek. "Where?"
Instead of answering, he reached forward and brushed his thumb lightly against the corner of your mouth. Your brain completely stalled for a second.
"There." He said casually before stepping around you like he hadn't just done anything at all.
Meanwhile you were still standing there holding a trash bag like an idiot. You cleared your throat quickly, forcing yourself to move again. "You're annoying."
Jaemin laughed quietly somewhere from behind. "You love me."
The response almost slipped out. It sat right there at the edge of your tongue before you stopped yourself. "Keep telling yourself that." You answered instead.
"I do every night." He responded.
By the time the apartment was mostly clean, both of you ended up sitting across from each other at the kitchen island drinking water in exhausted silence. Jaemin glanced over at you after a minute. "You wanna go get lunch?"
You almost said yes automatically, then stopped yourself. Because honestly you needed space. Not from him specifically, just from whatever this was slowly becoming before you accidentally let yourself fall too comfortably into it—if there was anything.
You looked down at your water bottle for a second before sighing softly. "I think I'm gonna take today as a mental health day."
Jaemin blinked once before nodding immediately. "Oh... okay."
And somehow him not making a big deal out of it made you feel even worse.
"I just need a reset day." You explained quickly. "I've been around people nonstop."
"No, I get it." He said easily while standing up from the stool. "Go relax."
You nodded slightly. "Thank you."
He grabbed his keys from his room, before moving to the front door, looking back at you briefly. "Text me if you need food or anything."
You laughed softly. "I think I can survive one afternoon alone."
"Debatable." He teased lightly before opening the door.
Then he left and the second the door shut behind him, the apartment suddenly felt way too quiet. You stayed standing there for a long moment staring blankly at nothing, leaning against the kitchen counter while sunlight filled the empty space around you. You knew exactly why you needed distance—it was him.
═════════════════════════
The next week, you spent most of the afternoon after classes locked in your room.
At first it had only been because of school. Or at least that was the excuse you gave yourself when the week started. Now it was Thursday evening and you barely left your room for anything besides food, and the occasional conversation upstairs before disappearing again. Every time music drifted faintly through the ceiling while Jaemin and the others he had invited hung out upstairs, you found yourself turning your headphones up louder instead.
Your desk was a complete mess. Open textbooks, notebooks filled with half finished notes, highlighted articles, empty coffee cups, assignments pulled up across three different tabs on your laptop. The semester had somehow caught up to you all at once. Between classes, work, and weekends that disappeared into loud music and flashing lights, everything felt backed up.
But if you were being honest, school wasn't the only reason you started hiding in here.
You started noticing things you weren't supposed to notice. The way your eyes gleamed when you looked at Jaemin. The way your heart stopped whenever he smiled at you for too long. The way being around him had started feeling like you slipped into something without realizing it until it was already happening. And maybe none of it actually meant anything. Maybe he was just naturally affectionate, maybe this was how he treated everyone he cared about. But the problem was that it didn't feel casual anymore, not after the pool, not after falling asleep practically curled against him on the couch, not after the hand holding that neither of you acknowledged afterward.
Ever since then, you started pulling away without fully meaning to. Spending more time out, staying in your room longer, keeping conversations shorter whenever you caught yourself relaxing too much around him. Because the friendship mattered too much. And if you crossed some invisible line and ruined the one stable thing you found here, you didn't think you'd forgive yourself for it.
You were halfway through typing when a knock sounded softly against your door. You glanced up automatically. "Come in."
The door cracked open slowly, and Jaemin leaned against the frame. "Hey."
Just hearing his voice after barely seeing him all week made something in your chest shift uncomfortably.
You looked back toward your screen for half a second before meeting his eyes again. "Hey."
For a moment neither of you spoke. He looked tired, dark hair slightly messy like he'd been running his hands through it all day. Like usual, he somehow looked good without trying, which honestly felt irritating at this point.
"Do you wanna go get dinner?" He finally asked.
Your fingers paused above the keyboard. Normally you would've said yes immediately, it had became natural actually. Late night food runs, random errands together, sitting across from each other in booths talking about nothing for hours. You glanced back at the disaster covering your desk instead. "I can't." The answer came out quicker than you intended.
His expression shifted slightly. "Oh..."
Guilt hit you immediately. "I have way too much work to finish." You explained quickly, gesturing vaguely toward your laptop.
Jaemin nodded once, but he didn't leave. Instead his eyes wandered slowly around your room, taking in the mess on your desk, the laundry basket shoved near your closet, the fact that you clearly had been sitting here for hours.
Then his gaze settled back on you. "Is everything okay?"
You smiled automatically. "Yeah."
His brows pulled together slightly. "Really?"
You nodded again. "Yep."
He stayed quiet for a second before crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "You've barely been around all week, though."
Your eyes narrowed at your laptop screen, pretending to reread something. "I've been around."
"You've either been out somewhere or locked in here." His tone wasn't accusatory. If anything, that made it worse. He sounded worried, confused.
You exhaled quietly and leaned back in your chair. "I'm just trying to get my life organized."
His eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"
"The parties." The answer sounded stupid out loud immediately, but it wasn't completely untrue. You did feel behind. Every weekend blurred together lately, homework piled up faster than you could finish it, laundry stayed unfolded for days, your sleep schedule barely existed anymore. Still, that wasn't the full reason either. Because even now, sitting here barely looking at him, part of you was painfully aware of how easy it would be to say yes to dinner. How easy it'd be to fall right back into whatever this thing between you had quietly become. And that was exactly why you started avoiding him in the first place.
For a second Jaemin just stared at you, then his expression softened completely. "Do I need to shut the house down?" He asked quietly.
You blinked immediately. "What?"
"The parties." His voice stayed calm..serious. "If they're stressing you out this much, I can stop them."
Your chest tightened unexpectedly. "No." The word came out faster than you meant it to. "I'm serious."
"I'm serious too." The room fell quiet again. He shifted his weight slightly against the doorway before speaking again. "You don't have to keep doing this if it's making things harder for you."
You looked at him for a second, and the worst part was that he meant every word. He'd actually do it, shut the whole thing down without complaining if you asked him to. No argument, no resentment...nothing. "No." You repeated more gently this time. "It's not necessary."
"Are you sure?"
You nodded once, but Jaemin still looked unconvinced. "I'm your friend before any of that." He said quietly.
The words landed harder than they should've. Friend—right, exactly. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. "I know." You turned your chair more toward him fully. "Look, this is just me. I know you haven't seen it much, but I get weird about school sometimes. I hate feeling behind." You laughed softly under your breath. "This would've happened even without the parties, I promise."
He watched you carefully for another second like he was trying to figure out whether you actually believed that yourself. Then finally he nodded once. "Okay."
He turned slightly toward the hallway. And suddenly guilt hit you so hard you almost called him back without thinking. Because this wasn't fair either. You were the one creating distance, and he didn't even know why. "Wait." You called out suddenly.
Jaemin paused immediately, glancing back over his shoulder. Your eyes dropped toward your laptop screen again, the blinking cursor, the unfinished assignment. Honestly... it could wait another hour. And maybe staying locked in your room all week hadn't actually helped anything anyway.
You shut the laptop slowly with a sigh. "I probably need a break anyway." A small laugh escaped you. "I'll go."
Something relaxed in his expression instantly. Not dramatically, just enough that you noticed. "Okay."
A small smile appeared afterward, easy and genuine in the way his smiles always were around you. And despite everything, despite how hard you'd been trying not to make this worse for yourself, you felt yourself smiling back automatically. For the first time all week, things felt normal again.
═════════════════════════
Finally, it was Friday.
By eleven the house already felt alive, music shaking through the walls while people flooded upstairs and spilled into the backyard. The pool lights reflected against the water, people yelling over each other while drinks sloshed around in red cups. You understood why people got addicted to places like this and couldn't stop. Not even the alcohol part, just the feeling of it. The noise, the movement, the way nobody was really thinking too hard about themselves for a few hours.
You were already tipsy by the time the hosts gathered in the kitchen. Haechan had one arm thrown around Renjun's shoulder while Jisung leaned against the counter laughing at something Jaemin said. Meanwhile Jaemin was pouring shots with complete confidence for someone whose eyes were already glossy.
"This..." Haechan announced dramatically while raising his shot glass. "Is for another successful weekend of influencing alcoholism."
"Cheers." Renjun smiled.
You laughed under your breath while lifting your own shot. "To financial stability."
"That too." Jaemin agreed with a grin.
The glasses clinked together before all of you took the shots at once, you winced immediately at the burn while Haechan coughed dramatically beside you. "Jesus Christ." He groaned.
"You're literally the one who bought it." Jaemin laughed.
"Yeah well I regret that decision... partly."
The night blurred faster after that. Music pounded through the house so loudly it almost felt physical, bass vibrating through the floor beneath your shoes while bodies crowded every room shoulder to shoulder. Heat clung to your skin from the packed living room, lights flashing across moving faces while people shouted over songs. At some point you ended up dancing with Haechan again in the middle of the living room again while he screamed lyrics directly into your face despite knowing maybe four words.
"Oh my god." You laughed breathlessly while he grabbed both your hands dramatically and spun you beneath the lights. "You're actually horrible at this."
"I bring energy!" He defended loudly.
He immediately grabbed your shoulders and forced you into another dramatic spin anyway. You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt. And weirdly enough, you felt lighter tonight, more detached in a good way. A few weekends ago you were still too aware of yourself. Watching yourself from outside your body almost. Thinking too hard about drinking, about your past, about whether you looked stupid dancing. Tonight you didn't really care, you just existed inside the moment for once.
Then your eyes drifted across the room automatically and landed on Jaemin. He was near the kitchen now, laughing while dancing loosely with some girl you vaguely recognized from campus. Her arms rested around his shoulders while he spun her carelessly beneath the lights, grin relaxed. Something unpleasant twisted low in your stomach immediately.
Which was stupid...completely stupid. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He was hosting a party, talking to people, dancing—existing normally. Still, your chest tightened anyway when the girl leaned closer. Then he looked up, straight at you. The smile on his face shifted slightly the second your eyes met across the room. Haechan was still yelling lyrics beside you, but suddenly you barely heard him anymore. Jaemin's attention stayed on you for another second too long before the girl touched his arm again, pulling him back into conversation.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously before following your gaze across the room. "Oh my god." He said, looking delighted. "You two are actually painful."
"What are you talking about?" You scoffed.
Haechan just grinned before shoving another drink into your hand. "Drink."
You rolled your eyes, but took it anyway.
The next hour disappeared after that. More dancing, somebody nearly breaking the speaker. Haechan standing on the couch screaming lyrics while Renjun threatened to physically remove him from the house. At one point Jaemin got dragged into the middle of the living room by three random girls and immediately started dancing again while people around him cheered. And somehow your eyes kept finding each other anyway.
Every crowded room eventually pulled you back toward him, every time you laughed too hard, he was already looking, every time he disappeared into another group of people, you noticed. And every time someone else touched him, something flickered low in your eyes before you forced yourself to ignore it.
Eventually you slipped away from the dance floor toward the kitchen, cheeks warm from alcohol and movement while you pushed your hair back from your face.
Jisung stood behind the bar pouring drinks with surprising concentration.
"There she is." He said when he noticed you approaching. "You look significantly more alive tonight."
You laughed softly while leaning against the counter. "I think I finally adapted."
"What do you want?" He replied with a small smile while grabbing another cup.
"Something stronger."
He smiled immediately. "That tells me nothing."
"Something that will keep this up." You said, pointing at yourself.
"That narrows it down slightly." He chuckled.
You rolled your eyes while laughing under your breath.
He mixed the drink quickly before sliding it toward you. "You surviving?"
"Yeah." You smiled into the rim of the cup before taking a sip.
"Mhm." He glanced toward the living room. "Jaemin seems happy too."
Your eyes flickered toward the crowd automatically. Jaemin was laughing at something Renjun said now, one arm resting loosely around the same girl's shoulders from earlier while people crowded around him naturally like they always did. And then he looked over and caught you staring immediately. This time he didn't even pretend not to notice. His eyes stayed on yours for a second longer than they should have before he slowly pulled away from the girl beside him completely.
You looked back down at your drink. "Yeah." You said quieter this time. "He does."
Jisung noticed it, you knew he did. But instead of teasing you about it like he probably would've a week ago, he just gave you a little smile before turning back toward someone else asking for drinks. You took your cup and slipped outside onto the balcony. The cold air hit your skin instantly, cooling some of the warmth sitting beneath it. Below, people crowded around the pool while music echoed across the backyard in waves. Inside, the party still moved endlessly behind the doors, voices blending together into noise.
You sat on one of the chairs quietly, sipping your drink while looking out at everything. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been this happy since first semester of freshman year, before everything got messy. Before parties stopped being fun and started feeling dangerous. It was strange thinking about how terrified you had been moving in here, now this house somehow felt more like home than anywhere else had in years.
The balcony door slid open behind you, you already knew it was Jaemin before you turned around. He stepped outside with a cigarette tucked between his fingers, sleeves pushed up while the music spilled out briefly onto the balcony before the door shut behind him again. "There you are." He said while walking over beside you.
You smiled slightly into your cup. "Needed air."
"Me too."
He walked over beside you before sitting down on the other chair, lighting the cigarette. The flame briefly illuminated his face in the dark. You watched him quietly for a second. "You smoke when you're stressed."
His eyebrows lifted slightly. "You noticed that?"
"You only do it when things get crazy."
Jaemin laughed quietly while exhaling smoke away from you. "Maybe you know me too well."
"Well, maybe you're predictable."
"That's rude." He chuckled.
You smiled into your drink again.
The conversation drifted naturally, the same way it always did with him. Talking to Jaemin never really felt forced, even silence with him somehow felt easy. But eventually something shifted. His eyes started lingering longer every time they met yours, dropping toward your mouth before returning back up again. And you knew you were doing the same thing. The tension settled between you slowly instead of all at once, like both of you had been walking around it for weeks and suddenly neither of you knew how to step around it anymore.
"You're really pretty tonight." He said suddenly.
You looked over at him immediately. "I'm probably sweaty."
"That doesn't change anything." He smiled.
You laughed softly under your breath while looking away toward the backyard again. "You're drunk."
"So are you." He said, taking another drag from his cigarette.
You shrugged. "Fair."
Neither of you moved, you just sat there looking at each other too long. The kind of staring that stopped feeling casual after a while. Your pulse jumped slightly when his eyes dropped toward your lips again. Then suddenly Jaemin straightened too quickly. "I should go back inside." He said, putting out his cigarette abruptly.
You blinked once, thrown off by how abrupt the shift was. But before he could move past you, your hand wrapped around his wrist instinctively. "There's nobody asking for you in there right now." You said quietly.
Jaemin stopped moving immediately, his eyes dropped to your hand around his wrist. Then back to your face. The look on his face made butterflies settle in your stomach.
He stared at you for another second before speaking carefully. "I have to go right now, Y/n." He said, like he was trying very hard to stay in control of himself.
You held his gaze for a moment longer before finally shrugging lightly and letting go. "Okay."
Then you lifted your drink casually toward your mouth like your heart wasn't suddenly beating way too fast. Jaemin nodded once before disappearing back inside, the balcony suddenly felt colder afterward. You exhaled slowly while leaning back against the chair again. That was probably for the best honestly. But then literally seconds later the balcony door opened again, and you looked over instinctively.
Jaemin walked straight toward you this time, fast. "You need to stop drinking." He said while reaching for your cup.
You laughed and pulled it away quickly. "No I don't—"
His hand missed completely. Between the alcohol and bad footing, he stumbled forward awkwardly, catching himself against the chair on both sides of you.
A startled laugh escaped you. "Careful."
But he didn't laugh back, he just stared at you. Close enough now that you could smell alcohol on his breath mixed with smoke and the clean scent of his cologne underneath it. His face was inches from yours that your heart started pounding so hard it almost hurt. He started pushing himself back up instinctively, like he realized how close he gotten. But before he could move away, your hands grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him back down.
Jaemin froze completely, his eyes searching yours for a second, like he was giving you one last chance to stop this. "Are you gonna regret this?" He asked quietly.
For a second, neither of you moved. The music from inside was muffled through the balcony door, voices drifted faintly from somewhere downstairs. But out here, everything felt strangely still.
You shook your head and his gaze dropped to your mouth. Something shifted in his expression then—something that looked close to relief, like he had been waiting for you to stop him. And when you didn't, the distance between you suddenly felt impossible. His hand lifted slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face before settling against your jaw. The touch was almost gentle, somehow that was worse.
Neither of you said anything, you just stared at each other.
Then his eyes flickered back to yours one last time, as if asking again without words. His lips touched yours slowly at first, carefully, but then weeks of restraint shattered. Your fingers tightened instinctively into the front of his hoodie while his hand slid firmly against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you deeper almost immediately. Both of you had already imagined this too many times to pretend otherwise now. The kiss deepened almost immediately, not rushed, not reckless—just impossible to stop.
You kissed him harder, tongue sliding into his mouth without even realizing it, one of your hands sliding into his hair and the small breath that escaped him sent butterflies into your stomach violently. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up and closer until there wasn't space left between you anymore.
And honestly it felt exactly like you knew it would. Every look across crowded rooms, every lingering touch, every moment spent trying not to think about each other too hard. It all crashed together there on the balcony. Jaemin kissed you like he'd been holding himself back for weeks, maybe months even. And maybe he had been. A soft sound escaped you when his hand tightened slightly against your waist before you could stop it.
"Fuck." He muttered quietly against your mouth before kissing you again immediately.
Your pulse was completely out of control now. Nothing existed outside of him for a second, just him.
Then suddenly— "Oh my god."
You both broke apart immediately. Haechan stood frozen in the balcony doorway staring between the two of you with the most shocked expression imaginable. For a second nobody spoke, then Haechan slowly dragged a hand down his face. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't see that."
You immediately buried your face in your hands laughing while Jaemin cursed quietly under his breath beside you.
"Anyways." Haechan continued like this was a completely normal interruption. "Renjun's asking for you."
Jaemin nodded quickly. "Okay, one minute."
Haechan pointed between both of you dramatically with a smirk. "Disgusting." Then he disappeared back inside.
The second the door shut again, you burst into laughter. "Oh my god." You laughed breathlessly. "We actually just did that?"
Jaemin finally laughed too, rubbing his hand over his face once. "Yeah." He admitted with a grin he couldn't hide. "We did. Are you okay?"
You looked at him for another second before smiling helplessly. "I haven't been better honestly." You laughed softly under your breath. "Are you?"
He looked at you like the answer was obvious. "Couldn't be better."
For a second neither of you said anything again, just smiling at each other like idiots. Then Jaemin glanced back toward the balcony door reluctantly. "I should probably see what Renjun wants."
You nodded. "Okay."
He turned slightly toward the door, but before he could leave, the words slipped out naturally. "Love you."
Jaemin paused immediately. You watched the surprise flicker briefly across his face for half a second before it softened into something else entirely. Then he smiled.
"I love you too."
And he disappeared back inside while you stayed sitting there on the balcony, smiling into your drink like an idiot while the music shook the walls behind you.
═════════════════════════
You didn't wake up until almost eleven the next morning. And even then, you barely moved.
You stayed tangled in your blankets staring at the ceiling for a long time, phone somewhere beside you playing random videos you weren't actually paying attention to. Every once in a while your mind drifted back to last night and your stomach turned all over again. Nothing about it felt wrong, it felt so natural that it almost scared you more.
You ended up staying in your room the entire day, around two you ordered food, around four you accidentally fell asleep again. Every time you thought about getting up, you found another reason not to. Another video, another nap, another ten minutes staring at the wall. By six, the house upstairs was strangely quiet. You laid still for another couple minutes before finally forcing yourself up. The upstairs flat smelled faintly like candles and leftover alcohol when you walked in. The TV played quietly in the background while Jaemin sat stretched across the couch in gray sweats and a hoodie, flipping lazily through channels like this was any normal Saturday.
His face lit up immediately when he noticed you. "I thought you died." He said with a grin, sitting up slightly.
You laughed softly while walking over. "Almost."
"You disappeared all day." He said jokingly, but there was something else underneath it. Curiosity or relief maybe? Like he actually was wondering where you were.
You rubbed at your temples dramatically as you wandered toward the couch. "I needed recovery time."
"From partying?" He teased.
You looked at him. "From life."
He laughed, the familiar sound settled some of the weird nervous energy that had been following you around since waking up. You dropped onto the couch beside him, tucking one leg underneath yourself while he flipped to another channel neither of you actually cared about. For a minute the room settled into silence, the kind that had always existed between the two of you—at least the way it used to feel. Now every little thing seemed impossible to ignore. The way his knee brushed yours when he shifted, the way his eyes lingered whenever you spoke. That same look he'd been giving you since last night, softer now, less subtle. It should've made you nervous, instead it mostly just made you hyperaware of everything.
"You look pretty." He said casually after a minute.
You turned toward him immediately, the compliment came out so casually it took a second to register. "What?"
A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "You look pretty."
You playfully rolled your eyes automatically. "You saw me yesterday."
He shrugged. "Still true today."
You smiled, but he could tell you were slightly forcing the normalcy of it all. You could feel it too honestly. You weren't uncomfortable around him necessarily, but everything felt heavier now.
"I'll be right back." He said suddenly before standing from the couch.
You watched him disappear toward the hallway before returning a minute later holding a thick stack of cash.
Your eyebrows lifted instantly. "Oh?"
"Your cut." He said while dropping it into your lap.
You stared down at it. "Jesus Christ."
"There's four hundred there." He said.
You looked back up at him immediately. "Keep it and put it toward rent. I'll just give you the other hundred later."
He shook his head instantly. "No."
"Jaemin—"
"Rent's on me this month." He interrupted casually.
You blinked at him. "What?"
"You've been a doll about all this." He said with a shrug. "Just take it."
"That's too much." You said, shaking your head.
He hummed slightly, before smiling slightly. "It's not."
You tried handing it back, but he physically shoved the money back into your hands with an annoyed look. "Take it before I get offended." He sighed.
You laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're keeping it."
The confidence in his voice suggested he already won the argument before it started. You sighed dramatically and tossed the money beside you on the couch. "Fine, thank you."
"There we go." He grinned. "That's better."
He leaned back against the couch again looking far too pleased with himself. "Tonight's probably gonna be the biggest party yet by the way." He said.
You frowned slightly. "Why?"
"That other party house got shut down before they could even host tonight." He said normally.
Your eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"
Jaemin nodded, looking genuinely excited now. "Cops apparently showed up before it even started, busted them."
"Lucky us." You laughed.
"Very lucky us." He agreed immediately.
You shook your head while laughing quietly. The excitement in his voice was almost contagious. This had stopped being some random side hustle and turned into something he was genuinely proud of. Before you could say anything else, he suddenly pushed himself off the couch. "I'm getting snacks. Want something?"
You shook your head. "No, I'm good."
He froze for a moment, before looking at you seriously. "You can't drink tonight if you have an empty stomach."
You paused, before scratching your forehead. "Um..." You said in a nod. "Just bring my chips then."
"Understood." He said, walking to the kitchen.
A few minutes later he came back balancing chips, candy, drinks—and an almost empty bottle of vodka.
You spotted it immediately. "Oh no."
Jaemin looked down at it like he forgotten he grabbed it. "Wait." He held it up slightly. "This probably has like six shots left."
You laughed while pulling your knees closer to your chest. "Your point?"
"My point." He said while grabbing shot glasses seemingly from nowhere. "Is should we finish it just to get rid of it? Save some money."
You stared at him for a second before smiling slowly. "Honestly, you're right."
The first shot burned, the second one somehow didn't. By the third both of you were already laughing at things that genuinely weren't funny. The bottle sat abandoned on the coffee table while some random game show played on the TV. Jaemin had shifted closer at some point without either of you acknowledging it. Your legs were tangled together across the couch cushions while he kept stealing handfuls of chips from your lap despite having his own bag. "You're actually the worst person to drink with." You informed him while trying to pull your chip bag back.
Jaemin immediately tightened both arms around it. "Finders keepers."
"They're mine." You said, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
"They're ours now." He said, taking them from you.
You laughed while trying to yank it back. The movement nearly sent both of you sideways into the couch cushions. "You're annoying." You said rolling your eyes.
"You like me." He said, grinning.
"Debatable." You said, tilting your head.
He raised his brows teasingly before shrugging. "You spent all day hiding in your room thinking about me."
Your entire body froze as your face dropped immediately, your head whipping towards him. "What?" You said, voice cracking slightly.
Jaemin blinked slowly, for a second he looked genuinely confused by your reaction. "I was just joking." Then he paused, letting out a short laugh. "Were you?"
"Shut up, no." You said way too fast. "I didn't know if you were."
"I wasn't even serious." Jaemin said with a simple shrug before smiling. "You kinda freaked out there are you sure?"
"Yes." You said dragging out the word. "Just want to make sure we're on the same page here."
"And what page is that?" He asked.
"Jaemin." You said, letting out a small forced laugh.
"Yes, Y/n?" He said, voice low and sultry.
Your mouth went agape at his tone, no words coming out. You blinked a few times, before shaking your head. "Just shut the fuck up."
His eyes widened slightly as he pointed at you, letting out a soft teasing gasp. "Did you just curse?"
You widened your eyes mockingly, before shrugging. "Oops."
A laugh escaped him as he shook his head and looked back toward the TV. "Being locked up all day thinking about me is taking a toll, huh?" He said in a teasing tone.
You immediately grabbed a throw pillow and immediately hit him with it.
By the time the front door opened and everyone finally arrived, both of you were definitely tipsy. Haechan stopped mid step the second he looked at the two of you sprawled together on the couch. His eyes moved from you , to Jaemin, to the empty vodka bottle, then back to both of you again. "...Are y'all drunk already?" He asked slowly.
"A little." Jaemin answered immediately.
You nodded beside him, with a loose smile, holding two fingers up. "Tiny bit."
Haechan looked genuinely concerned for a second before his eyes flickered toward the empty vodka bottle on the table. Then toward Jaemin, something unreadable crossed his face briefly before he covered it up with a laugh. "Jesus Christ."
Renjun walked in behind him carrying cases of drinks. "You heard about the other house?"
Jaemin sat up slightly immediately with a smile. "Yeah, they got shut down."
"Before the party even started." Haechan added while leaning against the counter. "Kinda crazy honestly."
You noticed the way he glanced at Jaemin when he said it, quick and subtle. And Jaemin noticed it as well. For a second you thought he might respond, but he just grabbed another chip and pointed toward the speaker. "Somebody fix the playlist, it sounds depressing."
And just like that the conversation shifted again.
Hours later the house had completely lost whatever sense of order it started the night with. Every room upstairs was packed, people packed shoulder to shoulder through the living room, kitchen, hallways, even sitting on the stairs because there was nowhere else left to go. Music pounded through the speakers hard enough that you could feel the bass vibrating through the floor beneath your feet.
Outside wasn't any better. The backyard was overflowing, bodies crowded around the pool beneath flashing lights while somebody butchered song lyrics loud enough to be heard over the music itself. At some point you stopped paying attention to time entirely. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that every weekend seemed to blur together lately until hours disappeared without warning. Either way, one minute you had been dancing in the living room and the next you found yourself half collapsed beside Jaemin and Haechan near the kitchen island, laughing so hard your stomach actually hurt.
"No listen." Haechan insisted dramatically while holding his drink with both hands. "You guys have to hear me out, but this house would be significantly better if I lived here too."
"That is not true." Jaemin argued immediately.
"It is." Haechan said loud over the music.
You groaned into your cup while laughing. "Why are we even talking about this?"
"Because he's wrong." Haechan said while pointing aggressively at Jaemin.
"I'm objectively correct." Jaemin said, rolling his eyes, looking at you with a loose smile.
"Nobody who's ever used the phrase objectively correct has actually been correct."
Jaemin gasped dramatically while Haechan nearly fell while laughing.
You shook your head and slid off the counter before they could drag you into whatever argument this was becoming. "I have to pee."
"Thanks, because we definitely needed to know that." Haechan muttered into his drink.
You flipped him off with a laugh as you walked away. The farther you got from the kitchen, the louder everything somehow became. Someone shoved past you carrying three drinks, somebody else was laughing so hard they could barely stand.
You rubbed your eyes briefly. The alcohol had settled beneath your skin by now, enough that everything felt softer around the edges. Not completely out of control, just fuzzy. You reached for one handle absentmindedly and pushed it open, stumbling inside and turning on the light, then froze. The room, the one Jaemin had specifically told you not to go into. Your stomach dropped so quickly it almost sobered you up, you didn't even have to pee anymore. You should've closed it immediately, instead you stood there, just looking— your feet couldn't move.
The room wasn't what you thought it would be. You honestly expected something much creepier, but it looked...normal. A small couch sat against one wall with a blanket tossed carelessly across it, bookshelves held random clutter. A desk with a laptop, papers, a journal and desk supplies sprawled around.
Your eyes drifted toward the wall covered in pictures, there were dozens of them, like a collage. Jaemin, Haechan, Renjun, people you recognized from campus. Pictures from parties, beach trips, random blurry moments that looked years old. Then your eyes caught on someone unfamiliar, a guy.
You frowned slightly as you stepped closer. There were multiple pictures of him scattered throughout the collage. Him and Jaemin standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing, arms thrown around each other. One photo in particular caught your attention immediately. They looked comfortable, the kind of comfortability people only become after years of knowing each other.
Your brows furrowed slightly, you never seen him before, never even heard Jaemin mention him—but his face looked so damn recognizable for some reason. Then your eyes moved lower. An old party flyer that you remembered too well, the other party house. The one everyone always talked about, everyone but Jaemin. The one you remember texting your friends how excited you were about the party that night. The one that almost killed you.
Before you could think too hard about it, somebody shouted loudly somewhere inside the house and panic filled you instantly. You shut the door fast and hurried away down the hallway before anyone could see you. You headed outside on the balcony trying to steady yourself with fresh air. You leaned both hands against the chair you sat in and took a slow breath. Your thoughts still felt fuzzy from drinking, but the room stayed stuck in your head. The pictures, the flyer, the guy you've never seen before—something about all of it felt important.
The balcony door opened behind you. "There you are."
You didn't need to turn around to know it was Jaemin. His voice had become embarrassingly easy to recognize lately, you looked back. He was already walking toward you, one hand shoved into his pocket, hair slightly messy from people constantly grabbing at him all night. "You just disappeared."
"Yeah." You laughed softly. "I got kinda sick so I needed air."
His expression changed instantly from amusement to concern. "Wait, are you okay?"
"Yes." You promised. "I didn't even throw up. I just needed a second."
His shoulders visibly relaxed. "Okay good."
A smile crossed your face before you could stop it. You liked that he worried, you probably liked it more than you should. A moment later he pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, tapping it lightly on his head before pulling one out and lighting it. The flame briefly illuminated his face before disappearing. You watched him for a second before standing up and stealing it directly from his fingers.
"What the hell?" Jaemin blinked at you while you took a hit. "You smoke now?" He asked amused.
You took a drag, but coughed immediately a small smile creeping on your face from the embarrassment. But you blew out the smoke and pretended you hadn't. "Drunk cigs don't count." You answered before handing it back, your fingers brushing.
His eyes stayed on your mouth a second too long before he took another drag himself. The whole thing felt strangely intimate. Passing it back and forth between you while music pulsed faintly through the walls behind you. For a few minutes neither of you said much, but eventually he looked over at you. And whatever amusement had been sitting in his expression faded slightly. "Can we talk?"
You nodded slowly, taking a puff from the cigarette. "Sure, about what?"
"About last night." He said.
Your eyes immediately lit up before you could stop them, you knew they did because his mouth twitched. "What about it?" You asked.
"About Haechan." He said.
That answer caught you off guard a little. "Is everything okay with him, what's up?"
"Everything's okay with him." He said, nodding. "What he walked into last night is what I mean."
You leaned against the railing, letting out a light chuckle shaking your head. "What, has he not seen two people kiss. What's the issue?"
"He's just asking questions that I don't know the answers to." Jaemin answered quickly, his eyes saying on yours.
"What kind of questions?" You asked, taking another drag.
He paused for a moment. "Like if we were planning to hook up."
You rolled your eyes without thinking, putting the cigarette out. "Does it matter? It's none of his business." You answered honestly.
"True." Jaemin reassured with a shrug.
"Then why are we discussing it?"
He straightened up a bit, staring at you. "I guess I want the answer too."
You turned to him fully, a small smile appearing on your face. "Why?" You questioned teasingly, inching closer to him.
"If I was going to hookup with one of my best friends then that's something I want to know." He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before resting back on your eyes. "Is that so awful?"
"It's not." You said, eyeing his arm that was resting along the rail, finger tapping slowly.
Your fingers brushed his slowly. You let your fingertips trail lightly across his hand, then up his wrist, his eyes followed the movement.
When you looked back up, he was already staring at you. The look in his eyes made your pulse quicken.
He turned his hand over and caught your wrist gently. Just enough to stop you, enough to pull you half a step closer. "Then answer it."
His eyes closed for half a second, then opened them again. You hated how much power that realization gave you. So instead of answering, you smiled and stayed silent. His head tipped slightly toward yours, not enough to close the distance, but you noticed. You hummed, your eyes not leaving his as your hand wrapped further back along his neck.
His eyes flickered down to your mouth again.
"You're avoiding the question." He said quietly.
You smiled. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" He let out a short quiet laugh. "That's all I get?"
"What answer are you hoping for?" You asked.
His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. "I don't know."
You laughed immediately. "That's a lie."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything.
"You know exactly what answer you're hoping for." You continued, watching him, fingers slightly rubbing against his neck.
For a second neither of you said anything.
The music from inside felt miles away. The world kept moving around you, but neither of you seemed capable of looking anywhere else. Finally, he shook his head, exhaling. "This is a bad idea."
You tilted your head. "What is?"
He looked down at your lips again before looking back up. "This."
"I haven't agreed to anything yet." You said teasingly, pulling his head back lightly by his hair.
He let out a shallow breath, lips parting slightly as his eyes gleamed. "So then stop doing this to me. Hurry up and say no." He said, tone low—he already knew you weren't.
But you just let out a giggle. "Fine." You said, pulling your arms away from him. "No."
He looked almost disappointed for a moment before he just smiled, nodding slightly as he backed away from you. You walked towards the balcony door, opening it. Then you looked over your shoulder at him. "But if you had asked me last night, I wouldn't have said no."
He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stared at you for a second with a grin that looked dangerously pleased with itself. Then finally he pointed inside. "Go get Haechan."
You nodded, going inside and shutting the door behind you. You honestly didn't look for someone so hard in your life, and of course for the first time in forever you couldn't find him. You rubbed your face annoyed, scanning the crowd for his face until finally you found him crammed into a tight corner with a girl—you didn't care, you only had one thing on your mind right now. You pushed through the crowd, going up to him. "Jaemin needs you." You said, words rushing out.
Haechan paused, not breaking eye contact from the girl that was in front of him. "Give me a minute."
"Haechan." You said serious, though the word felt slurred a bit. "Right now."
He turned to you, an annoyed look on his face, before rolling his eyes. "Whatever."
You didn't take any time pulling him into the crowd towards the balcony. Jaemin turned the second you walked through the door, not wasting a breath. "Can you take over for the night?" He asked Haechan.
"I'd need to stay over for that." Haechan said.
Jaemin nodded. "That's fine."
"You can take my couch." You added in quickly.
Haechan shook his head, a small frown appearing on his face. "If it was any other night I'd be fine with it, but—"
"Haechan." Jaemin said serious.
Haechan scratched the back of his head, genuinely looking confused. "What's up with everyone saying my name like that? Why do you need me to even take over?"
"Me and Y/n have to talk, and it's probably going to take a while." Jaemin said, giving you a glance.
Haechan's face dropped, disappointed as he turned to Jaemin. "Y'all are interrupting my night just to talk?"
But then he froze, staring at Jaemin's eyes that weren't on him. He turned around to look at you, your eyes on Jaemin, biting the corner of your lip. He turned back to Jaemin swiftly, before his head jerked back to you once again.
"Oh." He said, letting out a small laugh, pointing between the two of you. " I see what this is.
He paused for another second, brows furrowed in thought before he turned to Jaemin. "Fine whatever, I'll take over for the night."
Haechan let out another short laugh, shaking his head while leaving the balcony.
Jaemin grabbed your hand immediately and led you back inside. Straight through the crowded hallway, straight to his room, the muffled chatter of people fading into the background as he shoved his bedroom door open and kicked it shut with a heavy thud. The moment the lock clicked, you turned to him, your body colliding with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss. Your fingers tangled desperately in the soft strands of his hair, pulling him closer, trying to eliminate any space between you. You could taste the desperation in him, the way he groaned deep in his throat, a sound of pure hunger.
"I've been wanting to do this all night." You murmured against his lips, your voice a shaky, breathless wreck. You didn't wait for an answer before you kissed him again, your tongue sliding against his.
Jaemin responded by sliding his hands down to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he raised you up slightly, pinning you against the door. "You have no idea." He started, voice an octave lower. "I've been imagining you in my bed since the second I saw you tonight."
He broke the kiss, but only to trail a path of kisses along your jawline. You tilted your head back, exposing your neck, letting out a soft involuntary whimper as he found that sensitive spot just below your ear. He didn't just kiss, he nipped, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send a jolt straight to your core.
You arched into him, your breath hitching. "Jaemin... please." You whispered, your hands sliding down to the hem of his shirt.
You gripped the fabric, tugging it upward, palms finally meeting his bare skin. The muscles of his chest and back were firm under your touch, and you felt him tremble beneath your fingertips. He let out a low, groan, his hands roaming over your curves with an intensity that left you dizzy. Impatiently you pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it blindly across the room, pausing for a moment, eyes taking in the sight of his bare torso—the lean muscle, the way his chest heaved with every heavy breath. You leaned in, pressing slow kisses across him, tongue darting out to taste his skin.
"Touch me." You whispered against his skin. "I need you to touch me everywhere."
His eyes darkened, a glint appearing as his hands slid upward, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. He squeezed them firmly, his thumbs circling your nipples through the cloth. He grinned before grabbing the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. You stood there in your bra, chest rising, and the way he looked at you made you feel completely exposed and desired. He hummed, a low sound of approval, before reaching around to unclasp the hook. As the fabric fell away and your breasts spilled free, he let out a shaky breath. He cupped them in his hands, his thumbs teasing your nipples.
You let out a long breath, head falling back against the door. He seized the opportunity, leaning in to take one nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip before sucking hard, the sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to you. Your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him tighter against you.
"You're so perfect." He murmured against your skin. "Everything about you is fucking perfect."
His hands moved down, unbuttoning your pants with trembling fingers and sliding the zipper down. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear tugging them down your legs. You stepped out of them, standing fully bare before him. Jaemin stopped, his gaze traveling slowly from your feet up to your eyes, taking in every dip and curve of your body.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't even think straight looking at you."
He didn't let you stay standing for long. He guided you toward the bed, pushing you gently. He didn't climb on top immediately, he knelt between your spread thighs, his eyes locked onto yours. He began kissing his way down your body, starting at your collarbone and working his way lower. He lingered at your stomach, his warm breath making you shiver, before he pressed lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
You were squirming beneath him, hips lifting off the bed instinctively. "Stop teasing me." You panted, voice breaking. "I want you inside me so bad, I need to feel you."
He looked up at you, his face flushed. "You want me?" He asked, his voice deep. "Tell me exactly how much you want me."
"More than anything." You gasped, reaching down to guide him. "Now."
He quickly stripped off his own pants and boxers. When he sprang free, you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of him. He crawled onto the bed, settling himself between your thighs. He rubbed the head of his cock against your slick folds, teasing your entrance, letting you feel the size of him.
"You're so wet for me." He groaned. "Look at how much you want this."
He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed forward slowly, inch by inch. You let out a long, drawn out moan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your walls stretch around him. "Oh my god." You gasped. "You feel so good."
He stopped halfway, letting both of you adjust. "You okay?" He whispered, his voice suddenly tender despite the lust. "Too much? Tell me if it's too much."
"No." You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "Don't stop."
He pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself deep. You both cried out, a mix of relief and overwhelming pleasure. You dug your nails into his shoulders, breath coming in short gasps.
"Oh god... you're so tight." He panted, resting his forehead against yours. "You feel incredible."
He began to move, a slow steady rhythm. Then he pulled back until he was almost out, and drove back in with a heavy force that made you gasp. He watched your face intently, his eyes searching yours.
"Does that feel good?" He murmured, his voice vibrating through you. "Do you like it when I go deep like that?"
"Yes... yes, right there." You cried out, you hips rolling to meet his. "More baby... please, give me more."
He obliged, picking up the pace. The rhythm shifted from slow and sensual to something more urgent. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room, moans and heavy breathing along with it. He was pounding into you now, his hips slamming against yours with every powerful thrust.
"Fuck, I can't get enough of you." He groaned, face hovering over yours.
You whimpered, head thrashing on the pillow. "Harder, baby. Fuck me harder."
He let out a loud moan as he sped up, his thrusts becoming relentless and deep. You felt the pressure building in your lower belly, tension tightening with every stroke. He noticed your breathing change, the way your muscles were beginning to twitch around him.
"You're close, aren't you?" He groaned out, a smirk on his lips. "I can feel you shaking. Cum for me baby, let it out."
"Fuck... I'm almost—" You screamed as he shifted his angle, hitting a spot deep inside that made your entire body seize.
"Look at me while I fuck you. I want to see your face when you cum." He said as he continued to pound into you, his hand reached down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight fast circles. You met his eyes, locking gazes as you felt a sudden burst of pleasure, your muscles clenching around him that seemed to pull him even deeper.
"Yeah, just like that." Jaemin whimpered, his voice clipped. He buried himself as deep as he possibly could, his body stiffening as he let out a loud, moan, emptying himself inside you.
After a few moments of heavy breathing, he pulled out carefully and collapsed next to you on the bed. He held you in his arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"That was amazing." He murmured contentedly.
You snuggled against his chest, smiling up at him. "Mmmm it was." You agreed. "I'm glad we did this."
He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Me too, baby. Me too."
The room felt almost unnaturally quiet compared to the noise on the other side of the door a bit later. The party was still going, you could hear it. The distant thump of bass through the floorboards, occasional bursts of laughter drifting faintly through the walls, but it all felt far away now. Like the rest of the house existed somewhere else entirely.
He was half asleep beside you already, one arm rested loosely around your waist, his breathing slow and steady against the silence of the room. Every now and then his fingers twitched slightly like he was adjusting in his sleep without fully waking up. The simple weight of his arm felt strangely grounding.
You just stared at the ceiling quietly, exhausted, but you couldn't shut your eyes. You didn't realize how badly you wanted this until it happened, not even just physically—him as a whole, the closeness of it all. The way he always remembered small things about you without making a big deal out of it, checking if you got home safely even when he pretended not to be worried. The way he somehow became part of your routine so gradually that you never noticed it happening until the thought of losing it felt impossible. That was the terrifying part, not what happened tonight—partly, but what happened after. Because now there wasn't really any pretending anymore.
For weeks you convinced yourself distance was the smartest option. Staying in your room, finding excuses to be busy, keeping conversations shorter whenever you caught yourself getting too comfortable around him.
You told yourself it was protecting the friendship, protecting yourself. But lying here now, with his arm wrapped around you like it belonged there, you couldn't imagine going back to that version of things. And you didn't want to. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp near the far wall and whatever light managed to slip through the curtains from outside. Jaemin looked completely asleep now, his face softer than usual without his constant grin. A small smile appeared at your mouth before you could stop it. The funny thing was that none of this felt nearly as scary as it should have. A week ago you would've been spiraling, a month ago you probably would've convinced yourself to run in the opposite direction. Now all you felt was strangely calm. Your eyes drifted toward the ceiling again. Outside, the music shifted to another song, somebody shouted, a few people cheered.
Life kept moving, the party kept going. But for the first time all night, you weren't thinking about what happened next. You weren't thinking about tomorrow, or whether things would be awkward. All you could think about was the weight of Jaemin's arm around your waist and the fact that, for once, you didn't want an exit. You didn't want distance, didn't want to convince yourself that this was temporary. You wanted whatever came after this.
═════════════════════════
You woke up slowly to sunlight spilling across the bed, warm enough that for a few seconds you didn't want to move. You stayed somewhere between sleep and being awake, still wrapped in the leftover comfort of the blankets until reality started piecing itself back together little by little. The room was quiet in a way that felt unfamiliar, then you turned your head slightly toward the other side of the bed—empty. The sheets beside you were already cold.
You blinked once, staring at the space where Jaemin had been only hours ago, before slowly pushing yourself upright. The blanket was still pulled around your shoulders as you looked around the room, almost like you were expecting him to appear somewhere and make the whole thing feel normal again.
His hoodie was gone from the floor and the faint sound of music drifted somewhere outside the bedroom, low enough that it blended into the background. He was awake already. You got up slowly, finding your clothes scattered around the room before throwing them back on. Your head hurt slightly—not terrible, just enough to remind you how much you drank last night.
It smelled like coffee and cleaning spray when you walked out. Music played softly from the speaker in the kitchen while Jaemin moved around the living room cleaning up bottles and cups from the night before. Sunlight poured through the windows behind him while he tied up another trash bag. He looked up briefly when he heard you. "Oh." He said, pausing slightly. "Hey."
Immediately your stomach sank a little, he wasn't cold exactly, not angry, but it was different enough that you noticed right away.
"Hey." You answered slowly while walking further into the room.
Usually by now he would've smiled properly. He would've made some comment about how you slept half the day away or teased you about needing another recovery day after drinking. He would've looked at you like he always did, like there was some private inside joke between the two of you that nobody else understood. Instead, he just nodded once before turning back toward the kitchen island.
You stood there for a second, unsure what to do with yourself. You hated that you noticed every little thing. The fact that you suddenly felt like you were standing in someone else's house instead of the place that had started feeling familiar. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your chest, you grabbed a few empty cups off the counter just to give your hands something to do. "You cleaned all this already?" You asked lightly.
"Mhm." He barely nodded.
"You sleep at all?"
"A little." He answered quickly.
His responses were short...too short. You frowned slightly, setting the cups down in the trash while glancing at him. "Party seemed successful."
"Yeah."
The silence after that stretched awkwardly. You kept stealing glances at him while he wiped down the counter pretending you weren't watching, his jaw tense, shoulders stiff. A slow, horrible thought started creeping in—maybe he regretted it. The thought genuinely hurt more than expected because you didn't regret it at all, not even slightly. And it was embarrassing. You swallowed quietly before finally speaking. "How do you feel about last night?"
Jaemin froze for half a second, it was barely noticeable, but you saw it. He looked over at you cautiously. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Your eyebrows furrowed together immediately. "You don't know what I'm talking about?"
He let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck before looking away again. "I was blacked out last night." He said casually. "I don't remember much."
The words should've relieved you if they were true. Instead, they just made something in your chest sink. You knew the way he avoided things when he didn't want to say them. Knew the difference between Jaemin being confused and Jaemin pretending not to understand. And right now, he wouldn't even look at you. You let out a small laugh, more disbelief than amusement. "Jaemin... I woke up in your bed—"
Before you could finish, he dug both hands into his hoodie pockets and pulled out a stack of cash, dropping it onto the kitchen counter between you. "Here's your pay." He interrupted quickly.
You stared down at the money, then at him. The sudden change in subject almost made you forget what you were about to say.
"And honestly." He continued before you could say anything else."I have a really bad hangover right now, so I'm trying to be in silence today." There was something defensive about the way he said it, like he had already prepared the explanation before you even asked. He still wouldn't even really look at you. "You don't even have to clean with me." He added quickly while turning away again. "I got it all. You can take one of your mental health days or whatever the fuck it is."
The slight edge in his voice caught you off guard, not mean exactly—just...closed off. You stood there for another second trying to understand what happened between last night and now. "Are you sure?" You asked quietly. "I don't mind helping."
"I'm sure." He answered immediately. "Just go rest."
The room suddenly felt colder despite the sunlight filling every corner. You looked at him for a second longer, waiting for something. A smile, a joke, anything that felt like him, but nothing came. So you nodded slowly. "Okay."
Jaemin gave another short nod without turning around fully this time and that hurt more than anything. You grabbed the money off the counter quietly before walking back downstairs.
The second your flat door shut behind you, the silence felt heavier than before. You stood there for a minute without moving, staring at nothing while your brain tried to catch up with what had just happened before finally dragging yourself toward the shower.
Hot water poured over your shoulders, but it didn't quiet your thoughts, they kept looping endlessly. Maybe he really didn't remember, maybe he actually had been blackout drunk. But that didn't make sense either. Jaemin wasn't careless with people, that was one of the things you trusted most about him. He was playful, impulsive, could be ridiculous when he wanted to be, but when it came to people he cared about, he paid attention.
So why did it suddenly feel like he was pretending last night never happened?
You pressed your forehead briefly against the shower wall, letting the water run down your face. The part that bothered you most wasn't even the hookup, it was losing him. Because underneath everything else, Jaemin was still your friend first. And now something between you felt cracked open in a way you didn't know how to fix.
You had a feeling this would happen, you told yourself over and over again that it would. Every warning sign, every doubt, every instinct telling you to keep your distance had been there from the beginning. But you ignored it, pushed it down so deeply that eventually you convinced yourself it wasn't there at all. Not just for him, but for yourself. Because you wanted to believe this was different, that he was different. And that was what hurt the most. Not what happened, not even the disappointment. It was the fact that you had trusted him enough to lower your guard. Trusted him enough to stay when every part of you was telling you to leave. You had taken the risk anyway, convinced that maybe this time things wouldn't end the way they always did.
But you were right all along. You were right to run, right to pull away, right to keep a safe distance between yourself and him before things got too complicated, before you got too attached. It wasn't satisfying to be right, it wasn't a victory because for a little while, you had allowed yourself to hope.
And now there was nothing left to do except what you planned from the beginning—separate yourself from him, before you forgot how.
genre: figure skating AU, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, PR relationship/fake dating, speed skater!Jaemin x figure skater!reader, female identifying reader
warnings: light partying, a lil suggestive
playlist: true romance (pinkpantheress) | the perfect pair (beabadoobee) | prague (jack harlow) | with me (0WAVE) | next to me (JUNNY) | sexier (nct jnjm)
summary:
In the midst of a career comeback following a major injury, a reckless night cements your fall from grace as the Nation’s Skating Sweetheart. As everything comes crashing down, an opportunity presents itself: your childhood crush, Jaemin, proposes a PR relationship to support both of your returns to the skating world.
As your fabricated relationship throws you further into the spotlight, you’re not sure which is harder – redeeming your reputation, or trying not to fall for Na Jaemin all over again.
disclaimer: be warned that I'm not a skater but I tried my best LOLL also the nationality/country is kept vague intentionally, however I am American so be aware that some aspects of that culture might bleed through - ty!
taglist: @honeybeehorizon
When you step onto the ice, you think it might really be over.
It’s Nationals, which means that this is your last chance to make it. To prove, to everyone in the figure skating community, that you still have what it takes.
The pressure is on, especially since your childhood friend, Sunghoon, is dubbed the favorite within the men's program. You surpassed all expectations and are coming off an incredibly strong short program, which makes you the last one to leave it all on the ice.
You cross one skate over the other, gliding toward center ice. You lift your arms as you hear your name announced over the speakers. Through your nerves, like you’ve done a hundred times before, you flash a bright smile at the crowd. The only face you somehow manage to catch is Sunghoon’s that’s nearly pressed up against the glass. The rest are a blur, but it gives you some comfort to know there’s at least one person still rooting for you out there.
The first half of your program is hands down your favorite, as it features enough technical difficulty while allowing you to lean into your artistry. You hit your jump combinations flawlessly and execute the elements just the way you want. For the first time in years, your competitive spirit is confident. Unhindered.
Your fire carries you through the first half, until you feel a familiar fatigue pulling at your right hip.
Leading up to this season, almost all skating forums, live commentators, and journalists always positioned your narrative over one central detail: the fact that this is your first season back on the ice after an almost career-ending hip tear.
That was enough reason for you to skip over articles and most social media commentary—reliving your surgery, post-op, and shaky comeback through the eyes of other spectators was too much. You remembered the heartache and depression that manifested when you were injured as an Olympic hopeful, and you’d be damned if you let skeptics drag you back into that mindset. You deserve to be here. You are here to prove that you deserve to move forward.
You grit your teeth, fighting through your spins and pushing into each jump. It’s working until you realize what’s next.
An element highly contested by yourself and your coach was your last jump combination: the double axel, double toe, single loop jump wedged into the second half of your program for maximum point potential. It’s something you’d struggled to execute in the past, but it was a stretch for your recovering body post-injury.
Your coach is probably off to the side praying that you opt for an easier version of this combination, but you decide to press on.
Watch me, you think as you take off. Your entire face scrunches with the effort, but it pays off. You hit the double axel, and the adrenaline rush carries your momentum to hit the double toe as well. As you’re continuing into the last jump, your hip muscles pinch in sharp pain. You flinch, and the falter causes you to underrotate the last jump completely and land on two feet. At this point, it’s a miracle that you don’t fully eat shit in the process.
The crowd gasps. You recover your bearings just enough to finish out the program with somewhat convincing artistry. Your hip burns at the scar site, the muscle underneath fatigued and tender. When the crowd applauds, you skate off to the kiss and cry, trying to keep a smile steady as you hug your coach.
“At least you left it all out there,” he says. That’s his way of saying Not perfect, but it might do.
You force a neutral expression on your face as the camera focuses on your reaction. It’ll be close, especially since a good amount of the women had skated clean. To podium, you need a score close to your season’s best, so the question is obvious: did your mistake ruin your chances?
You fidget with the pink bunny plush from your childhood in your usual kiss and cry tradition. The audience pauses in anticipation, and you feel like you’re going to vomit. Then, you hear your total score.
You’ve done it by two measly points. By the skin of your teeth, you’re making it to the podium. You cry in front of the cameras, too shocked to hold in the sobs heaving from your chest.
❅˚
In your daze and general shock at medaling, you’re hyped up into attending an afterparty before you even know it. It’s hosted by the main sponsor of today’s competition, and you typically never like to go to things like this. Of all people, it’s Sunghoon who ultimately convinces you to go.
“We should celebrate both of our comebacks,” he says with a smile. “Plus, only other skaters will be there.”
It’s enough to get you out the door in the black dress you’d managed to pack in your carry on just in case.
You’re regretting it an hour in as Sunghoon’s pulled into conversation after conversation. He’s always had the larger network between the two of you, which leaves you sipping your drink in the corner as you avoid dragging down his conversations.
You’re feeling buzzed when you feel a tap on your shoulder and hear a familiar voice speak your name.
Your jaw drops to the floor. “Jaemin?”
For the first time in a year, Na Jaemin stands in front of you. He wears a suit that’s a little too formal for this event, but it somehow makes him even more handsome than you remember.
“It’s me,” he laughs.
“I thought this was for skaters only.”
“Ouch,” he pretends to be hurt. “Are you saying I’m not a skater?”
You roll your eyes. “A skater that actually competed today, Jaemin.”
“I know some people. Come on,” he grins. “Are you really that unhappy to see me?”
Along with Sunghoon, you’d grown up attending the same rink as Jaemin. Your trio had been three peas in a pod throughout skating school; you’d even trained as an ice dance pair together for a year until Jaemin and his family decided to specialize him into speed skating. From then on, to your dismay, interactions with him had been few and far in between with your conflicting schedules. The distance only grew as you moved from juniors to then seniors in your respective disciplines.
If Sunghoon was like your brother, Jaemin was the schoolyard crush that never quite faded away. Sure, you’d dated some guys here and there over the years, but any whispers of Jaemin dating sent you scrolling on Instagram in full investigation mode. Considering that he was considered an athlete-turned-influencer with his own fan base, you saw these rumors often.
Even so, you try to play it cool by taking a long sip of your drink. “Of course I’m glad to see you, but when was the last time you even laced up your skates?”
“Ah,” Jaemin shoots you a bright smile, although you can see the nerves peek through his facade as he hesitates. “Well…last week?”
“Last week?” You raise an eyebrow. “As in…you’re thinking about coming back?”
“It’s a work in progress,” he says with a wink.
“Hmm.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest.
He seizes your sarcasm to change the subject. “You look like you’re fully back out there, though.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you podiumed, which is more than something.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “you looked really good out there.”
The knowledge of Jaemin watching your near-disastrous free skate sends hot embarrassment crawling up your neck.
“My lead from the short program saved my ass. It would’ve looked better if this,” you point to your bad hip, “would behave the way I want it to.”
He frowns. “It’s not fully recovered?”
“It is, but it’s not. Since I spent so much time off, the muscles on my right are weaker than my left, which sucks since my right is my landing leg.” You force a smile. “The road to full-strength recovery is long.”
“As always, you need to be nicer to yourself,” he sighs. “At least you kept Mr. Hops to comfort you in the kiss and cry.”
Your face burns even hotter. “I didn’t think you would remember him.”
Mr. Hops had been Jaemin’s gift to you for your tenth birthday. You’d taken the pink plushie for your first serious competition as a junior, and you’d continued taking him well into adulthood as a good luck charm. Your hip tear had occurred during a competition where you’d left Mr. Hops sitting in your hotel room, which, in your eyes, verified your long-standing superstition.
“Of course I remember,” he smiles wide. “I’m just glad you’ve gotten a bunch of mileage out of him.”
If the earth could open under your feet and swallow you whole, now would be the time. Not only does your childhood crush remember your pink bunny’s name, but he also knows that you’ve been hauling it around everywhere for at least the past decade.
“Well,” you clear your throat. “I think Mr. Hops and his well-traveled wisdom at least reduces the odds of me having a full mental breakdown.”
“You really didn’t need to worry about anything,” he insists. “Out of everyone, I think you were the most bea–”
“Jaemin!” Sunghoon calls. His face is flushed and his breath carries the trace smell of alcohol. “Guys! Everyone wants to drink!!”
You look at Jaemin wildly for help, but he shrugs in a way that conveys what am I supposed to do about it?
You’re pulled into the main group of fellow skaters that are much too drunk; one look at the three of you together has them hollering and forcing drinks into your hands in the name of reunion. You’re not used to partying, and you’re sure as hell not used to being the center of attention among your peers. Even during your prime, you’d preferred to hang around only a couple close friends after any competition.
The spotlight puts you in a vulnerable position to accept any and all drinks. You stay much later than expected, even when Jaemin offers to help you make a quick exit. You’re the most drunk you’ve ever been, both on the physical drinks as well as the atmosphere. Once you're dancing on a table with someone who you think is Cha Jun-hwan, the night is long gone.
The next morning you wake up to banging on the door of your hotel room. Running to the entrance, you peek through the peephole first, which reveals the livid face of your PR manager, Mei.
“God!” Thunk. “Wake up, already!” Thunk thunk.
Mei isn’t the most level headed person, but, even for her, it’s way too early to be this aggressive. Whatever it is, it’s serious.
You take a deep breath, trying to will away the hangover pounding in your head as you swing the door open. “Hey, Mei–”
“Don’t hey me.” She growls. Mei stalks around your room, sticking her head into your bathroom and closet. She only hesitates when peeking around the corner toward your bed then exhales in relief.
“What on earth is going on?” You ask in bewilderment, and your gut twists. The first thing that crosses your mind is that there must be some sort of serious scandal—a failed test for a controlled substance, maybe. You don't know what else would warrant this level of panic.
“Did you have anyone over last night?”
The question catches you so off guard that you nearly trip over your own feet as you follow her erratic path around your room. “What? No!”
Mei searches behind the curtains and even bends down to look under your bed. “Just reminding you that, as your PR manager, it’s to both of our advantages if you’re forthright about any indiscretions…”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You shriek. You didn’t need to hear this from someone who’s known you since your teen years.
Finally registering your genuine confusion, she squints at you. “...I thought you were ignoring me, but have you really not checked your phone at all today?”
Numbness cascades down your nerves. Your phone currently sits charging on your nightstand. “No?”
Your manager shakes her head and fishes out her laptop from her bag, placing it on the hotel dining table. The display immediately brightens into a gossip article published an hour ago.
ICE ROYALTY TO PARTY ANIMALS: A WILD NIGHT FOR THE NATION’S SWEETHEARTS
Your heart sinks low into your chest as you scroll through the contents of the article. It’s you, alright, down to last night’s little black dress while arm-in-arm with both Sunghoon and Jaemin. It’s you, leaving the car disheveled and dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. It’s unfortunately you, previous child prodigy, downing shots and dancing on the front page of one of the most popular gossip sites.
Shit, you think. Sunghoon must be freaking out. Jaemin, too.
While both men had gathered the nickname of Ice Prince, it was for entirely different reasons. Sunghoon carried the name for his public aloofness, while Jaemin's persona fulfilled the image of charismatic royalty.
While you’d long accepted the unfair scrutiny of being labeled a “controversial” female athlete, both Sunghoon and Jaemin ruled their private lives with an iron fist. Every post and press release was curated and picked through in order to protect their squeaky clean Ice Prince images–especially with the rising cult following of girls.
And you had messed it all up in one night.
“Was it worth it?” Mei snaps. “Did you have fun? Because it sure looks like it.”
Opening the full slideshow, almost every attendee from last night has been captured. However, the most prominent features are still yourself, Jaemin, and Sunghoon.
Wordlessly, Mei pulls up multiple social media sites, where all commentary centers on the three of you. Most old skating fans remember your friendship as a trio, but many new ones—particularly Jaemin’s new legion of followers—fixate on your presence.
did he fly out just to see her? they’re so together y’all
that picture of her on both of their arms makes me sick THAT SHOULD BE ME
embarrassing that her boyfriend had to witness such a mid program, she should retire already
You nudge the laptop so that you can no longer read the words on the screen. “I was not aware of this.”
“I see.” Mei thinks before gathering all of her things back into her bag. “Take some time to process this. Don’t make any statements to anyone yet. If you’re smart, you’ll turn off your social media notifications. We’ll talk.”
“Okay.” You’ve learned not to question her. She’s gotten you out of enough sticky situations. “I’m sorry, Mei.”
“This is just the beginning, kid,” Mei shoots you a pitying smile as she lets herself out. “Just get yourself ready for the storm that’s coming.”
❅˚
Mei gives you two days.
When she requests your presence at her office, you don’t protest. You get there ten minutes ahead of time and wait politely.
“I’m not going to yell at you,” she sighs when she sees your too-straight posture.
“Wouldn’t be unwarranted,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have gotten swept up in the atmosphere.”
“As your manager, I agree.” Mei shoots you a look. “As someone who’s always telling you to enjoy your life—I’m glad you finally stopped punishing yourself.”
You tug with your sleeve without commenting.
Mei continues. “Obviously, you already posted the official statement that we sent over yesterday. Nothing else public on social media, aside from the official pictures we got from Nationals. After that—no posting for a while.”
You nod. It’s fair enough. You’d already gotten too many unsolicited comments from strangers. Notifications were decidedly turned off, and only the bravest of souls could field your direct messages.
“There’s been something else I’ve considered for this season,” Mei hesitates. “If you’re open to it.”
Alarm bells go off in your head. “Interviews? Variety content?”
“The ice show,” Mei says.
“Classics on Ice?” You frown. “Sunghoon and I were already planning on skating.”
“You’ll skate there, sure,” Mei says, “but now it’s more.”
“More as in…promotions? Volunteering?”
Your manager shakes her head. “Yes, benefit shows usually yield good coverage. It’s also an opportunity to showcase your relationships within the skating community. During and leading up to the event. Public perception and opinions are unavoidable, but I think if you’re seen out and about being friendly with respected athletes…”
You cringe at the implication: you are simply an athlete—not a respected one. “That’s a fine idea and all, but wouldn’t that harm those athletes? I’m friends with a lot of skaters, but those friendships are away from the cameras. Except Sunghoon.”
“Right. It would be out of the blue to suddenly hang out with skaters you’ve been training and competing against for years, especially with no public history.” She leans forward. “But if there was suddenly an old friend re-entering the community—maybe that would be believable?”
Your blood chills. You recall what Jaemin told you: it’s a work in progress.
“Jaemin?” You fight to push the words out. “Jaemin’s actually returning to skating?”
Mei nods. Her shoulders relax, perhaps relieved that she didn’t have to directly break the news. “His team is making the announcement at the end of the week.”
You’re happy for him—really, you are—but disappointment tugs at your gut. Why hadn’t he told you when you asked?
“So you want me to skate in this ice show and prove that I have at least two friends. Got it. I can do that.”
Mei’s expression twists. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“With Jaemin coming back into the skating world, and the rumors already circulating between the two of you…” Mei bites her lip. “His management reached out to discuss, and we came to the conclusion that showcasing a…closer relationship would likely be beneficial for both parties.”
It’s her pleading expression to not freak out that makes the last puzzle piece fall into place. “A PR romance? With Jaemin? How on earth would that benefit either of us? He’ll get angry fans, and I’ll get the angry fans’ death threats!”
“You don’t need to be over the top with it,” Mei’s waving both hands, which could be her attempt to calm you down or to enact a physical barrier from you. Maybe both. “Nothing crazy or formal—people already think you're dating! Just lean into the rumors. Hang out with or without Sunghoon. Jaemin is popular, but it’s common knowledge that you all were rink rats together. You’ll get some fan hate, but we see people overall getting really into it.”
You’re speechless. You run through the impending possibilities in your mind. Jaemin, back in your hometown. Seeing him in passing. Existing in the same sphere for the first time in years.
“I still don’t understand how that would benefit him,” you say.
Mei hums. “His team can explain it more.”
“His team?” Your stomach drops. “They’re coming here? Today?”
“Oh, no,” Mei says. “We’re grabbing lunch with them.”
–
Mei whisks you away in her car. You barely process that you're heading somewhere at all. When the car pulls up in front of the nicest restaurant in the city, you think, briefly, that you must be hallucinating this entire ordeal.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs as you stumble out of the passenger’s side.
You follow her lead, baffled at the long roman-style columns at the entrance and dim, ambient lighting. Inside, you can’t even tell that it’s daytime, let alone high noon.
You’ve walked through the interior for minutes before you make a sudden left turn into a more private section of the restaurant. There, at a table around the corner, sits Jaemin with his manager.
His manager rises to shake both your and Mei’s hands. “Jeff.”
“Nice to meet you,” you manage to say, although your throat scratches like sandpaper while speaking.
When Jaemin stands up to face you, your brain glitches on the protocol. Is it proper to shake hands with a childhood best friend, especially when you’re both portrayed on the front cover of tabloids together? When you just saw him a few nights ago, and he only hinted at a comeback? When his team is proposing a PR arrangement? Is a hug too casual for this heavy atmosphere?
“Hi.” You shoot him a pained smile and sit down to avoid confronting the issue entirely. Confusion flickers across his face, but he lowers back down into his seat.
Jeff immediately transitions into business. “Thank you for meeting us today. I hope Mei was able to explain our current situation, especially since the headlines have complicated things.”
Mei nods. “She’s aware. Obviously, we’ll have to be very intentional moving forward.”
Your gaze bounces between the two as they discuss details such as social media use and public outings. You try to catch Jaemin’s eye, but he pokes around at an appetizer on his plate.
You try to listen to their brainstorming of strategies, but you can only take so much before your curiosity gets the best of you. You blurt out to Jaemin directly. “What do you get out of this deal?”
Jaemin’s eyes widen, but he still jumps to speak, as if he’s been waiting for your permission to talk. “Well, I—”
“Jaemin wants to re-enter the skating world,” Jeff interjects. “This…relationship could renew interest in his previous success, since you’re very deeply linked with that time period.”
You frown, but you’re starting to get the picture. You’re sure that this morning’s article alone has most likely sent fans hunting for old skating footage. There’s even some old trio pictures still visible on both your and Sunghoon’s Instagram profiles.
You’ve also seen enough fragments of Jaemin’s fanbase online to know that a public girlfriend would likely alienate the most unhealthily attached fans.
Maybe that’s what someone like him needed to be taken seriously in the athletic world again, just like how you wish people would speak about your current skating and instead of the old.
“Anything else I should know? Any stipulations before I offer myself up as bait for one of the most viral athletes known for having crazy fans?”
Jaemin’s gaze shoots up at you in the corner of your eye. You ignore it as you glare down Mei and Jeff.
“There’s one thing our team is thinking of,” Jeff starts. He side eyes you as if you’re a wild animal ready to pounce. “The charity ice show you’re skating in.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What, they’re having a speed skating demo?”
Your sarcasm falls on deaf ears; if he picks up on it, Jeff doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve been told that both you and Jaemin trained together in ice dance before settling in your respective sports.”
Your jaw tightens. “No. I’m not committing to an ice dance routine. It’s way too late to be practicing for that.”
Mei says nothing, but she nods her head.
“As you wish.” Jeff seems unfazed. “We’ll find something else for Jaemin. If you change your mind, please let us know.”
“I won’t. I mean, I don’t foresee that changing, but we’ll let you know,” you hastily add after sensing Mei’s disapproval. “Thank you.”
Mei and Jeff dominate the discussion throughout lunch, and they’re still chatting as you all rise to leave your table. You find yourself in stride with Jaemin, who seems to be looking everywhere but you.
“So. You're moving back,” you say.
He turns towards you, surprised. “I am. I’m moving out of my old place next Monday.”
“So it was a work in progress, after all.” You try to keep your tone light, but it doesn’t prevent the sour edge in your voice from seeping through.
His expression twists with guilt. “I was going to tell you, but then things started moving too fast. I lost the opportunity. This relationship—PR situation—was not my idea.”
You don’t respond. Your ego stings; you’d asked him so many questions out of a genuine interest to catch up, and the whole while he'd held you at arm's length. Your teams concocted this plan, rather than talk it through first with you as a friend.
Jaemin searches your face. “What do you think of all of this?”
You think that you want to delete Instagram altogether, retire from skating, and tell everyone to stuff their clout-chasing proposals up their—
Really, you should calm down. You have to admit that you could benefit from this arrangement. Sure, there would be hate and an uptick in public interest in your private life, but Mei is right. After these headlines, you’re bound to receive more criticism anyway—maybe returning the focus to your oldest friends would remind the world of your younger self. Before all of the hardship. Nostalgia as a vehicle of empathy.
As for Jaemin, you’re not sure what to make of his sudden re-appearance in your life. Any giddiness is now tempered by the jaded realism of your position. Maybe knowing his true intentions is better for your working relationship, since, moving forward, you should be treating this as a professional arrangement.
“Let’s do it,” your laugh sounds harsh and flat. “What more do I have to lose, right?”
❅˚
Upon returning home, you’re allowed one day of sweet radio silence from any obligations. You mute almost all notifications and lose yourself in your favorite shows.
Then, Jaemin’s announcement drops, and all hell breaks loose.
The overall response shows widespread support for Jaemin’s return to speed skating. The speculation of his move, however, has everyone up in a flurry trying to figure out why. Technically, his city’s rink is superior in all of their facilities and amenities. His coach was based mainly in your rink, but he was so close to retirement and was open about only coaching Jaemin.
You’re not sure why he’s chosen to return here, either. From what you know, a large portion of speed skating training isn’t always in the rink, anyway.
Everyone online, however, is staunchly convinced that you must be the reason. You scroll past everything from pregnancy rumors to social media accounts posting threads surrounding the early “evidence” to prove the existence of this secret relationship. As far as your social media feed is concerned, you're practically married.
Half of it seems to be in good fun—a lot of supportive fans make jokes about finally glimpsing into Jaemin’s notoriously private life. The other half of it is not so fun, manifesting in hate comments and threatening direct messages that trigger you to crack down on your account privacy.
Hey, Jaemin texts you after you temporarily set your Instagram to private. You okay?
You don’t respond. Something stubborn and petty wants to double down . So what if you got photographed drinking with friends? Was society really so fucked up that you had to put in work to protect your peace while both of the ice princes got off scot-free?
When you pull your car into the rink parking lot to a couple of flashing cameras, you know that the answer is undoubtedly yes. You’d hoped for a serene first practice back, but you anticipate Jaemin’s presence before you even open the door.
In fact, he’s literally on the other side, sitting at one of the benches between the back entrance and the ice.
Jaemin stands when he sees you. “Hey, good morning—”
You cut to the chase. “What do you want, Jaem?”
“I just thought I’d say hi before your practice,” he says. He seems encouraged by your use of his old nickname; you make a mental note to avoid using it again.
“You got up at the ass crack of dawn to send me off to practice?”
“Uh—no?” Jaemin points over his shoulder. “I’m doing some strength training first in the gym, then I’ll take over the ice for some light stuff after you.”
“Alright then,” you say. You step past him and continue on. “See you.”
“Will I?”
You turn around. “Will you what?”
“Will I see you soon?” Jaemin studies you. “You’re not answering my texts.”
“There’s nothing in our contractthat requires me to text you back,” you point out. You’re all too familiar with the terms and conditions, as you reviewed and signed the paperwork in the days prior. “I can talk to Mei to put a staged outing on the calendar.”
“No.” He exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to say that we should actually do something together. No calendars, no managers. Definitely no cameras.”
You frown. “Why would we do that?”
“Because we’re friends?” There’s a slight gravel to Jaemin's voice. He’s losing his patience with you, and you’re relishing in it.
“We were friends,” you say. Your grip on your duffel bag tightens. “I thought we were still friends up until Nationals. Before you wanted to use our friendship for notoriety.”
“We can still be friends through this,” he says. “It’s not one or the other. And I told you, this wasn’t my idea.”
You sigh. If he’s going to be so persistent about this, you might as well be direct. “Let me be clear. I hate this arrangement. I’m only doing it because Mei thinks it’s a good idea, I trust her, and for once I’d love for people to stop betting against my skating. That’s it. I’m not doing this because we’re friends. That was pretty much ruined once the paperwork was signed.”
Jaemin opens his mouth to argue, but he’s cut off by a voice from the other side of the rink.
“Hey!” Your coach shouts. “That’s a whole lot of talking and not a lot of warming up.”
You give Jaemin your fakest smile. “You heard the man. Have a good work out, Jaemin.”
You put your all into practice to clear your mind. It’s hard, but the determination to stand on your words keeps your focus razor sharp.
When you’re wiping your blades down and stowing away your things, you think that’s the end of it. Then, you hear the sound of the doors to the ice shutting. You straighten your back and peek through the glass.
Jaemin’s already set up a series of small cones that you assume must be to simulate the short track path. He skates around in long, fluid circles.
Your throat catches. He’s always been so beautiful on the ice. Sure, speed and power were par for the course with speed skating, but his edge control and maneuvers are so finely tuned that you're impressed. Even after all these years, Jaemin still looks like a top athlete.
Jaemin’s skates scrape across the ice as he stops. As if he has a sixth sense for your presence, he turns his gaze towards you. He nods, then, after a moment, raises his hand in a wave.
You turn away and stuff your last remaining item into your duffel. You don’t look back as you leave.
Over the next few weeks, your encounters with Jaemin go more or less the same. He waits to greet you in the morning, and you shut him down every time. You’re not sure what he aims to achieve by waiting it out— you’ve made yourself quite clear—but nevertheless he seems to show up day after day, morning after morning.
Until one day, he doesn’t. When you march through the rink one morning, you’re not met with Jaemin but by an old man that you haven’t seen in a very long time.
You start and nearly drop your bag. “Coach Brown?”
Coach Brown’s smile lines spread over his entire face. While he’s gotten older, you haven’t forgotten the kindness that your childhood coach exudes. “I had to come by now that the three musketeers are back under this roof.”
You laugh, but it’s held taut by guilt. “It’s definitely an unexpected development.”
The old man’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Although the three of you are in a bit of a rut, aren’t you?”
Your palms sweat. “You saw Jaemin this morning?”
“Just ten minutes ago,” Coach Brown shrugs. Then, his expression darkens. “You know, the worst thing you could do is turn your back on your past.”
You blink. “Sorry? What did Jaemin—”
“Sunghoon,” he waves you off before continuing. “It’s been explained to me that you are…less than enthused about the situation, but you still should treat your peers with respect. Carving out a path for yourself doesn’t mean you need to block out the others.”
“Coach—” You can’t even fully process his sentence before he cuts you off again.
“You’ve always had the worst temper of the three,” Coach Brown wags his finger in your face. “Calm yourself down and face it like an adult.”
As fast as he came around, he marches away and disappears through the doors leading up to management’s office.
You stare after him long after the doors close, dazed. You feel twelve-years-old again, getting nagged at to be nice to the boys.
After your training ends a bit early, you happen to catch Jaemin as he puts on his skates. “Morning,” you say.
Jaemin’s head whips up so fast that he swings too far back and bumps his head against the back of the boards. “Oh shit—hey?”
“I saw Coach Brown this morning,” you say.
He brightens. “Me too. I hope I’m half as active as him when I’m that age.”
You don’t respond, instead searching his features and body language for any dishonesty. It’s a stare-off—you, chewing on your lip and Jaemin, confused and massaging the back of his head.
That’s it, you admit to yourself. He didn’t tell Coach Brown anything.
And admittedly—both from the open hope in Jaemin’s expression and your shame from being nagged at—perhaps the old man was right about some things, after all.
“Would you be free to grab lunch tomorrow?” You ask before you change your mind. “There’s a new ramen place that opened up last weekend—”
“Yes!” He answers before you’ve fully finished your sentence. “I know which one you’re talking about. I can pick you up?”
“Oh—uh—that’s okay, I think.”
Jaemin shakes his head. “You’re on the way, let me do it.”
Your jaw tightens, but you swallow your pride. “Sure. Noon?”
He nods without saying anything. The two of you stare at each other.
“Well,” you break the awkward silence first. “Have a good practice.”
“You too.” Jaemin cringes. “I mean, shit, have a good day. See you tomorrow.”
At that, you turn away.
Take that, Coach Brown, you think. Look whose temper is adequately controlled.
❅˚
Twenty minutes before noon, you nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock at the door.
You rake over your appearance in the mirror and make desperate last-minute touch-ups. Sure, it's just lunch, but you were never sure when a rogue camera might snap pictures of you in public. The paparazzi had ceased showing up outside of the rink after the first two days, but the initial onslaught had left you paranoid of any flash or loud chatter.
“You’re early,” you say as you open the door, a little breathless.
Sunghoon blinks back at you. “I am?”
It’s your turn to stare. “Sunghoon. Why are you here?”
Regardless of your confusion, you step aside to let him in. As always, Sunghoon makes himself comfortable on your living room couch. “I was bored. Wanna get lunch?”
“About that.” You cross your arms. “Jaemin is picking me up in fifteen minutes.”
Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise. “You finally decided to stop hating him?”
“I don’t hate him—” you fume. “I still disagree with how he went about things, but I might have just gotten a little too mad.”
Your friend snorts and mumbles something under his breath.
“What?” You punch his arm.
“Ow!” Sunghoon swats away your swings. “I said big surprise—clearly you’re the most hotheaded one out of all of us.
“Brown said the same thing,” you mutter.
Sunghoon pauses. “Isn’t it a little crazy that people are just letting him go right back to work? Right after his surgery, too.”
You shrug. “He seemed healthy enough to lecture me about Jaemin. He said I had the worst temper out of us three.”
He smirks. “Wow. The old man needed to get involved to get your head out of your ass.”
“And who tipped him off in the first place?”
“And who with the worst temper gave me this red mark on my arm just now?”
Touche. “Anyways,” you change the subject. “Wanna go with us?”
“Um,” Sunghoon grimaces. “Not if it’s going to be awkward.”
“It won’t be,” you insist. You shoot out a quick text to Jaemin: Sunghoon randomly showed up at my place. Mind if he comes?
Within thirty seconds, your phone vibrates again. Of course. The more the merrier, it says.
“See,” you hand your phone to him. “Jaemin doesn’t care.”
“He’s not in the position to object,” Sunghoon laughs. “From that wall of text? This is clearly the first time you’ve texted him in weeks. He’s probably just saying yes so that you don’t change your mind and run away.”
You roll your eyes. “So you’re not coming?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sunghoon says. "I'm hungry."
You would’ve been more nervous about merging the group if you’d known about Sunghoon’s intrusion beforehand, but it works out well for the car ride over. Jaemin and Sunghoon seem to pick up right where they put their friendship down.
Their conversation goes from topic to topic, but your mind is reeling. It’s too easy, riding as a passenger in Jaemin’s old car, to feel like you’re a teenager again.
The new ramen place is tucked away in a plaza constructed in the last two years. It’s still finding its niche—the only other businesses in the center are a pharmacy and a dollar store—and the ramen place is the most exciting thing to have happened to it.
“Oof,” Sunghoon says as you approach the shop. From the outside, you can see that there’s only a handful of people inside. “Is that too awkward?”
Jaemin steps forward. “It’s not empty.” He swings the door open before any of you can think about it further.
Jaemin and Sunghoon are full steam ahead with their conversations. You’re jealous, in a way. Both of them have so much natural charisma that it overflows into all their interactions. On the other hand, you feel like you always have to work for it.
You all end up ordering different things from the menu. You’re halfway through observing the interior decor when you realize the rest of the table has gone silent.
“So…” Jaemin says. He leans his head into his hand. “How’s it been?”
“How’s it been?” You repeat.
“Since Nationals,” Jaemin clarifies.
Sunghoon stiffens in the corner of your vision. You try to level your facial expression.
“I mean,” you can’t help the wry smile rising to your face. “I deleted social media from my phone. Mei’s posting for me so I don’t have to see the hate. I’m avoiding the news outlets for the same exact reason."
Jaemin swallows. “Right.”
“What about you?” It’s as much as a way to change the topic as it is genuine curiosity. “How are your fans taking the return announcement?”
“Mostly well,” he admits. “Older fans are excited. Younger fans are confused but trying to be supportive, which I appreciate.”
The elephant in the room goes unaddressed. You saw the comments before officially deciding to hand the reins over to Mei. You know for a fact that there were rumors on top of rumors swirling around your connection to both Jaemin and Sunghoon.
“I delete all of the hate comments,” Sunghoon says as if reading your mind. “Just for my own peace of mind, really. I can’t stand seeing that shit on my page.”
“You should try filtering words,” Jaemin suggests. “That’s helped diffuse some of it for me.”
You frown. While you can tell that both have good intentions, it doesn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it’s worse—you feel like a taboo to hide from the world, despite your status as a well-known figure in the skating world.
“You don’t have to delete or filter anything.” You feel a deep sense of resoluteness. “Let them talk.”
The guys exchange glances. “Sure, people will talk,” Jaemin says. “Doesn’t mean you need to entertain seeing it.”
You shrug, looking between the two as your bowls of ramen are placed in the table space in front of you. “Filtering out words won’t stop them. We’ll just give them something to talk about before they move on.”
Jaemin’s smile curls. A hint of his teeth pokes through. “What do you suggest we do to make them talk?”
You think for a moment before holding your phone in the air with a shake of your hand. “Pose for me?”
❅˚
After that first lunch, talking to Jaemin gets easier. You chat briefly whenever you run into each other at the rink, and sometimes you grab a post-practice coffee if your schedules line up. You don’t text, but Jaemin sends a few skating memes after you log back into Instagram—a cautious way to test the water.
“What’s your goal with coming back?” You ask during one brunch after training.
Jaemin’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t lose his easy smile. “My goal?”
“I mean—” you scramble to find the right words. Hell, you should think before speaking sometimes. “Why decide to come back now? You have so many opportunities outside of skating.”
Skaters who would kill for his following. Not many people would intentionally halt their own momentum, let alone actively endanger it with a fake relationship.
Jaemin leans back in his chair. “Why did you come back? After your injury?”
“Rude. I asked first.” Regardless, you think out loud. “No one’s actually asked me why. Everyone just assumed that I would try to come back after I was ready.”
“Would you have, even if they hadn’t assumed?” He asks.
“Yes,” you say without hesitating.
“Why?”
“It’s not what people would expect from me,” you start. “I knew it was going to be a long road to any sort of podium, and I didn’t even expect to get there at all. I came back…to see if I could, I guess. Skating has just been such a big part of my life; I wasn't ready to give it up.”
Jaemin’s smile brightens. “That’s my answer too.”
“Uh…” You bite your lip. “It’s not that I don’t admire you for coming back, but you weren’t injured. You left first.”
“I did.” Jaemin thinks for a moment. “When I quit, I genuinely thought that skating had nothing more to offer me. But the more time passed, the more I realized that something was missing.”
This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk about his choice to leave. He had never spoken about it outside of the initial press statement, and he’d all but disappeared from the community after. “What made you realize something was missing?”
“Ah, you know.” Jaemin scratches the back of his head. “Just intuition.”
You stare at him. “You came back after years based on some magical intuition? Right out of thin air?”
His cheeks turn pink. “What’s wrong with trusting your intuition?”
“Just seems too good to be true, I guess.” You take a long sip of your drink. “Ignore me. I’m a pessimist nowadays.”
Silence. Then, Jaemin speaks up again. “If you have to know, I saw some old footage. I got the urge to get on the ice, so I did. Casually skating didn’t feel like it was enough. I felt the pull to do everything—compete the right way, by coming home and reconnecting with everyone.”
It’s like his dark eyes are looking through you and your thoughts.
You think back to the months following your injury. In the darkest moments when you considered giving up skating for good, it always led to reminiscing via old videos. Everything from old competition footage to videos of you messing around with the other kids—sometimes it was your last anchor to hope. More than the nostalgia interwoven in the past, you craved to perform again.
“I know exactly what you mean,” you smile, then hesitate. “I’m glad you’re back.”
The seriousness melts away. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Mean it?”
You snort. “Forget it.”
“Too late,” Jaemin points to his temples. “It’s already saved here. No camera needed.”
❅˚
You push on your bike, fighting for your life to pedal to the music while trying to follow the spin instructor’s directions. Beads of sweat roll down your skin, and your throat feels dry.
You sneak a glance at Jaemin. The bastard looks like he’s barely breaking a sweat. In fact, if it he wasn't right next to you, anyone could easily mistake him as the instructor.
He leans toward your bike. “Are you doing okay?”
“I have decent cardio!” You pant over the bass-loaded music. “I’m fine!”
You sound so not fine that Jaemin throws his head back in laughter.
“You two in the back!” The instructor calls out. “Less talking, more pedaling!”
There were only so many cafes close to the rink to try, so working out together is your most recent attempt at activities together. Jaemin insisted that it’s valuable cross-training for your respective sports—you’re not sure that you agree with the sentiment for your discipline, but it’s a nice supplement to your training schedule.
“What did you think about that instructor?” Jaemin asks as he holds the door open for you.
You snort. “Too intense and too much bass boosting.”
Your phone vibrates with texts and phone calls. You don’t even flinch as you start blocking and reporting the unknown callers.
“Wow, you’re popular,” Jaemin jokes while he backs out of his parking spot.
You don’t say anything. There’s no use in dragging Jaemin into it; not when there’s nothing to be done. At the very least, you appreciate that Jaemin always offers to drive.
“Can I ask you something?” Jaemin asks as he pulls up to your place.
“No,” you laugh before registering the nervousness creeping in on his expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Well,” Jaemin clears his throat. “Remember when my team brought up performing an ice dance together at that benefit show?”
“I do.”
“I know that it wasn’t brought up in a very good way.” Jaemin’s eyes flit around your face. “But do you think there’s any part of you that would be open to reconsidering that decision?”
The question makes you freeze. “Why?”
“My team won’t let up about it. I keep telling them that there’s really no need for me to participate…”
He’s continuing into some sort of explanation, but you’re hung up on the first part of his sentence. Sure, Mei and Jeff had been the catalyst for your reunion, but something about the mention of my team douses you as a cold reminder. In the midst of early morning rides and deep conversations over brunch, you’d forgotten that this was all manufactured.
“Our agreement ends right after the ice show, right?” You ask.
He nods. “But it’s just the official clause—of course, I want to—”
“Can you please tell your team that I will not be entertaining this notion again?” You reach for the door.
“Wait, stop. What did I say?” Jaemin’s climbing out of the car too, and a high pitch beeps over and over as he abandons the driver’s seat.
“Maybe I’m just tired,” you huff. “I see you almost every day, and I’m still training. Am I supposed to be all happy-go-lucky all the time? It’s not like we’re friends.”
Jaemin physically recoils. “This again? We are friends.”
“I hadn’t talked to you in years before you decided to come back,” you state matter-of-factly. “We’re bound by a contract. We’re not friends, Jaemin. We’re coworkers.”
You turn on your heel and walk towards your place.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Jaemin calls after you. “You just get to say your piece and storm off?”
You face him. “Go on, then. What do you want to say?”
He stands there for a minute, and his face flashes through a chain of expressions. Jaemin opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again. He shakes his head before shutting himself back in his car. The tires squeak against the asphalt as he drives away.
You pace around your house in angry circles. You should feel better, but instead you generate new reasons to be mad at him. Aside from the contractual nature of your arrangement, didn’t he understand that interfering with your art was an entirely different matter? You could go on a million fake dates and post content on social media, but your time on the ice is the only thing that’s truly yours.
You’re halfway through rage-cleaning your kitchen when your screen lights up with Jaemin’s name. You ignore it, but then Sunghoon calls second, then Mei calls next.
You choose to call Sunghoon back, ready to defend your outburst, but your stomach plummets when you pick up the phone to Sunghoon sniffling.
All your anger dissipates into fear. “What happened?”
“Coach Brown collapsed today,” he rasps. “They're not sure if he's going to make it.”
❅˚
Mei and Jeff sit at the front of the conference room. Mei openly observes you and Jaemin. Jaemin sits scrolling on his phone with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. You cross your arms and try to look anywhere else.
Mei and Jeff review the last month in social media posts and general media coverage. You nod to yourself without listening—they always say the same things anyway: good reception, decent reach, more posting if possible. Today’s presentation is much shorter than expected, with no concrete dates to post strategic content.
You take it as a sign to leave and grab your bag. Jaemin moves as well, putting his phone into his pocket.
“I’m sure you both are worried about Coach Brown,” Mei says suddenly.
You both freeze in place. Your eyes dart to Jaemin, to gauge his reaction, but he’s already looking at you.
You had thought about texting Jaemin a million times since the news broke. You’d checked in on Sunghoon, but he was the type of person to hold things in until later down the line. You didn’t want to push him too hard, since you’re sure that he’s hurting just as much as you.
Looking at the glassiness of Jaemin’s eyes, you’re certain that he’s thought about reaching out to you, too.
“He'll fight through it,” your voice croaks against the silence. “He was a great man.”
“The greatest,” Jaemin says without taking his eyes off of you.
“This may feel a little premature, but the foundation reached out,” Mei prefaces. “They’re having part of the ice show's proceeds go directly to Coach Brown’s family. They asked to confirm if both of you—and Sunghoon, of course—are still planning on participating?”
“Of course,” you answer.
“Are they sure they still want all of us?” Jaemin asks. “I’m not competing in figure skating or ice dance.”
Mei shrugs. “You were in talks before, but I’m guessing it’s because the three of you are his most prominent students. Of course, you went to speed skating eventually, but you were still under him for the entirety of your juniors career.”
Jaemin nods to himself. “It’s relatively short, right?”
Mei hesitates. “Well, I’m not quite sure of the hard details—”
Jaemin shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m in. I’ll figure it out.”
“We can skate together.”
It’s like the entire room has forgotten about your attendance; all three heads snap toward you, eyes wide.
“You want to?” Mei’s eyebrows climb to her hairline. “Now?”
That’s not exactly a great vote of confidence, but you persist nonetheless. “It’s going to help Coach Brown and his family. It’s as simple as that.”
“Will that be okay to prepare for?” Jaemin blurts out. “While you’re training for everything else, I mean.”
You shrug. “Sunghoon’s also competing.”
“It’s just a lot to balance.”
You stare at him. You’re flush with irritation, but you manage to keep your voice level as you respond. “I’ll manage.”
“Well,” Jeff interjects. He clears his throat loudly and moves to disconnect his computer from the room's screen. “That should be more than enough for today. We’ll both be in touch for details on the exhibition, but our next meeting should be in two weeks as usual.”
“Thanks, Jeff,” you drone as you gather your bag and exit.
You’re not even halfway down the stairwell when a hand latches onto your elbow.
“Wait,” Jaemin rasps. “Talk to me. Five minutes. Please.”
He’s panting like he’s run a mile. You nod. “What is it?”
“You don’t need to say yes, you know.” Jaemin says. “I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to work on your own program right now.”
You bristle. “Are you going to ask Sunghoon the same question?”
Jaemin leans his weight against the stairwell railing. “One day we’re laughing and talking about anything and everything, and then the next day you’re telling me that we’re not friends. One day you draw the hard boundary that we will never perform together, and then now you’re willing to. Why are you so upset with me?”
“I’m willing only for the sake of Coach Brown.” Your restrained and rational side snaps. You talk a step forward into Jaemin’s personal space. “I’ve been mad, Jaem. I’ve been pissed since you made your stupid announcement to come back to our rink—some of your crazy fans have found my real phone number, did you know that?”
He's speechless.
You continue. “Ever since coming back from my injury, I can’t do anything right. If I talk about my mental health as an athlete, I’m seen as complaining. If I can’t land a jump? I’m washed up. If my makeup is looking a little off on competition day? My age is showing, and I should feel lucky that someone so old can still compete. People hate me so much that it’s my best PR strategy to become someone’s hated girlfriend, because the new hate is considered an improvement from my old hate.”
“I didn’t know you were being harassed on your personal number,” he mutters.
“And why would you?” You scoff. “It doesn’t matter that we used to know each other, okay? Even though everyone down to Coach Brown wants us to be so close—”
“Coach Brown said something to you before?” Jaemin leans in, which makes you take a step back.
“Well, kinda—”
“Please,” he begs. Desperation lines his eyes. “Tell me what you talked about. I could barely catch him here because of my odd hours, let alone talk to him. I regret that more than anything.”
Your anger wanes. You feel a flash of pity followed by a stark reminder of your surroundings—what were you doing, yelling at Jaemin in a stairwell?
You wrack your brain for a white lie, but nothing comes up on the spot. You’ve already exposed it anyway, so you might as well tell the truth. “He told me to control my temper and stop being mad at you for nothing.”
You expect something like a snarky comment, but Jaemin just looks surprised. “He knew it’s fake?”
You shrug. “I didn’t tell him anything. He either knows us too well or heard something through the grapevine. Or he heard me yelling at you and put two and two together.”
Jaemin snorts, but he doesn’t respond.
You shift uncomfortably. “That was pretty much it. He said the worst thing I could do was turn my back on my past.”
Jaemin pauses for a long time before speaking. “Can I say something to you? No Mei, no Jeff, no social media?”
Your heart feels stuck in your throat. You swallow thickly. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” His gaze burns through you. “I should’ve talked to you more during and after Nationals. I definitely should’ve warned you about the batshit plan our agents were making—I know that probably made you lose trust in me instantly.”
Jaemin glances at you, no doubt expecting some sort of correction or flash of emotion, but you remain silent. He continues: “I know it’s stupid, but they presented me with possible options for a PR relationship — it was going to happen regardless to acclimate the public to my return to skating. They suggested you last, but I think I agreed too fast. I should’ve talked to you before my team made contact with yours.”
Your mind swims with the new information. A laugh slips from your throat without realizing it. “I think I might’ve been the worst choice possible.”
He reddens. “Coach Brown gave me the idea, if I’m being honest.”
Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
“I ran into him here while practicing. Before everything, and before I officially planned to come back.” He admits. “I was venting to him about the concept of a PR relationship—I promise you I didn’t want to—and he started to rehash his past troubles with the media.”
“He got mad when Sunghoon got coverage about his real high school girlfriend,” you recall. “He would’ve lost his mind at a fake one.”
“He didn’t say anything weird,” Jaemin shrugs. “Just a hypothetical: ‘wouldn’t it be nice if someone you feel comfortable with could stand in, instead of doing something like that with a stranger.’”
What was it that Coach Brown had said to you? You should be grateful that he’s someone you feel comfortable around.
The edges of your mouth curl into a bittersweet smile. “That bastard.”
Jaemin smiles back, and your heart flips.
Coach Brown had essentially influenced this entire production. The realization causes tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. “Jaemin—”
“I should've talked to him more.” His eye grow misty. “I fucked up. I should’ve spent time with him, instead of focusing on all of the drama.”
You twitch forward, but you stop yourself short of hugging him. You pat his back in slow taps while holding back your own tears. “It’s not your fault. None of us knew that this would happen.”
He stiffens at your touch. “You don’t need to comfort me, you know. I know you hate me.”
Your stomach drops. “I never hated you, Jaemin. I was just hurt—it felt like you were using me.”
Once you speak it, you know it to be the truth. Try as you might, you could never hate Jaemin. Even if given away ten years ago, you know that he will always hold part of your heart.
“That was never my intention,” he whispers. “I know it’s hard to believe.”
“I see that now,” you acknowledge. “I’ve been an asshole, Jaem. I want to start over. ”
Jaemin sniffs back his remaining tears. He offers you a weak smile. “I’d like that.”
You reach towards him with your hand. “Friends?”
His hand closes over yours, only to pull you forward into a big hug. “Friends. Always.”
Your hands rise from your sides and travel up his back. You squeeze him tight. “Always. I’m sorry it took me so long to remember.”
“One, two, three, turn, two, three—” your choreographer, Maci, counts your steps with a patient tone.
You focus on your footwork. You’re still practicing without music; it’s just Maci’s voice mixed with your shoes squeaking against the floor. You extend your right arm behind you in a soft sweep, and you imagine it making a perfect line with your posture.
Instead, your tricep sticks against something soft yet clammy.
“Mmph—” Jaemin grunts behind you. “That’s my face.”
You stop and wipe your arm. “Sweaty.”
In sync, you both walk to the edge of the room to chug your water.
Practice for the ice show was truly underway, and you all had spent the last week learning choreography off ice. You and Sunghoon had quickly picked up on your routines for your individual portions. Sunghoon would do his routine completely by himself, as he would for any normal exhibition. You, however, would split yours into two: one minute by yourself, then one minute with Jaemin.
It wasn’t a complete disaster, but you were picking it up together slower than either of you anticipated. Jaemin struggled to lead, while you would misjudge your distance and step on his foot—or, in this case, slap him with your tricep.
“I might as well not be there,” Jaemin jokes with you during water breaks. “What happened to all of our training?”
“Our ice dance training from nearly ten years ago?”
“I think you legitimately forget that Jaemin is there if you don’t see him,” Sunghoon observes from the back. Although he almost always finishes before you, he tends to stick around. “You should skate with a rearview mirror.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Actually…” Maci looks lost in thought before nodding her head. “You have a point.”
You gape at her. “You think I need a rearview mirror?”
“Of course not,” she says. Noticeably, Sunghoon deflates slightly in his corner. “I just meant that he has a point…somewhere in there. You guys are taking up completely different spaces”
You both blink at her.
She rolls her eyes, then taps through her phone. A classic waltz plays over the small speakers overhead. “Dance in hold. Just a basic waltz, please.”
Jaemin grins and bows deeply. He extends a hand toward you. “May I have this dance?”
“Corny,” you groan while taking his hand with your right. You straighten your posture and bring your other hand to hold onto his bicep. Likewise, his right hand tucks over your shoulder blade. You’re both glistening with sweat, but you feel goosebumps raise where his hand glides over your skin.
The music continues to play overhead, but neither of you move. Jaemin waits another two measures before leading you across the floor. It’s a simple waltz, but you feel hyperaware of every movement, big and small. You swear Jaemin’s fingers tighten where your hands are clasped together.
“There you go!” Maci calls out.
Right when you’re thinking that’s a green light to call it, she shouts out again. “Now hold eye contact!”
You look up, ready to break the silence with a joke, but your smile drops when you see Jaemin's eyes. They’re dark and captivating—that much hasn’t changed—but there’s an undercurrent of something else that leaves you paralyzed. You nearly forget to breathe, as you have to focus all of your attention on matching his steps.
“How does this pace feel?” He asks while holding eye contact. There’s a ghost of a smirk.
Your heart races so fast that you can’t hear the music over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “It’s a great pace. Feels good.”
You only realize the innuendo after it’s too late. Your face heats as he laughs at you.
“Alright!” Maci shouts out. “First run through of the partner section with the music! I’ll count you off.”
You start alone in the center of the floor with your arms extended, since that’ll be your position on the ice once your solo wraps up. Similar to how it will be on the ice, you don’t see Jaemin as he approaches; his hands rest on your waist first.
Your heartbeat instantly spikes; you’re unsure if it’s due to the contact or the adrenaline.
You brace your core as he lifts you and turns the two of you in a slight spin.
We’re really doing this, you realize as you extend through the lift. It’s a little wobbly—both of your faults, you think—but you get through it. Jaemin lowers you back onto your feet. Even though the landing is a little rough, a lift is a lift.
You turn out to face each other. Jaemin extends his arm toward you. His features are bright and confident, as if teasing you to come closer. For a split second, it reminds you of the easy stage presence he always carried as a performer.
You take his hand and continue with the rest of the routine. As this is an exhibition show and your dance together is an homage to Coach Brown, all of the elements within this showcase are mostly basic in nature. Sure, you both can tackle the various step sequences with a languid artistry not intuitive to non-skaters, but it’s nowhere close enough in difficulty to a competition program.
“You’re thinking too much,” Jaemin murmurs through a spin.
“I’m worried we’ll look silly,” you say as you part.
“No worrying when we’re dancing,” he says. “Just think about me.”
You do. You hold eye contact throughout the remainder of the step sequence, and all your thoughts revolve around him. His positioning—should you adjust a bit so you’re a little closer? You even focus on how your lines are extending towards him. Mostly technical things, but above all—Jaemin is like the sun, pulling everything towards him, and you can’t help but be swept into his orbit.
Your last element is a stationary lift where Jaemin anchors you by your waist and legs to hold you horizontally. Your entrance works, his hand grips your waist, but you flinch the second his other hand grabs your inner thigh.
“Oof—” your lower half drops to the ground, although Jaemin’s hold on your torso is enough to prevent full impact. “Thanks.”
For the first time, you glance around at your audience. Sunghoon looks away and scratches the back of his neck. Maci’s cheeks tinge with pink as she frantically reaches to stop the music.
“What’s wrong?” You ask with a frown as Jaemin pulls you to your feet. “Did it look bad?”
“No, uh—” Maci claps her hands together in light, awkward taps. She clears her throat. “It’s like you never left, Jaemin.”
“You guys are going to get questions about this routine for the rest of your lives,” Sunghoon snorts. “But it’ll get the donations going.”
Jaemin releases his hold on your hand. You flex it thoughtfully; you hadn’t realized that you hadn’t let go.
You look at your dance partner, but Jaemin’s expression tightens into something unreadable. “Yup, great for charity.”
Your day continues as usual—more individual runthroughs, a snack after practice, and mindless chats with your little group. But when you sleep that night, parsing through your day, you can’t shake the phantom feeling of his hand in yours.
❅˚
“I have to ask you a question,” Sunghoon says before you even have the chance to shut the passenger door.
You blink at him through sleepy eyes. “Right now? It’s 5am.”
Sunghoon puts the car into drive and heads in the direction of Jaemin’s apartment.
“So?” Your crankiness asks. “What’s your question—?”
“Do you have feelings for Jaemin?”
“Uh,” you’re genuinely at a loss for words. “Are we talking about currently, or when we were in middle school?”
He doesn’t respond. There’s not even any music playing in the car, so you squirm in your seat against the silence.
You clear your throat. “Why are you asking?”
“Because the two of you look like you’re ready to jump each other at any moment.”
“Ew, Hoon.”
"You're also acting different." Sunghoon gives you a look. “You would’ve already told me if it was anyone else.”
You break eye contact. Dancing with Jaemin again had asserted one thing: you could not deny your physical attraction to him. The chemistry overflowed, even when you watched practice footage back. Sure, he’s always been your type, but his face had grown more handsome and his body more chiseled into adulthood.
When it came to your emotional connection to him, however, your feelings are a big, jumbled mess. Becoming close again has been easy, but something in the air lingers between you two. It's difficult to differentiate the layers of physical attraction, nostalgia, and genuine fondness. How could you explain the complexities to Sunghoon when you barely understood them yourself?
“It’s just partner chemistry and the tone of our routine.” You groan. “Calm down.”
Sunghoon glares at you as he pulls into Jaemin’s apartment complex. He doesn’t respond, but his expression is crystal clear: I’m going to ask you about this again.
“Good morning,” Jaemin sings as he enters the car. “You guys are grumpier than usual.”
You and Sunghoon exchange a look; when he pointedly looks back at the road without a word, you figure he’s leaving any explanation to you.
You cross your arms. “You’re five minutes late.”
Jaemin snorts. “Touche.”
The rest of the drive is quiet. The heater in Sunghoon’s car fights against the cold air outside, but you pull your jacket around you nonetheless.
Starting today, the two of you are practicing your routine for the show on the actual ice. While the cast was just formally announced last week, the post had generated buzz almost immediately. All the marketing team had to do was put the list of names in their caption, and the internet did the rest. After all, what other opportunity would there be to watch the Na Jaemin skate outside of his discipline?
You’re happy that the show guaranteed to have a sold out audience and likely record breaking fundraising. It’s the whole reason why you both chose to participate in the first place, but you’d underestimated the pressure that came with it.
“You’ll finish your section with a spin,” Maci says as she walks you through the last of your solo steps. “And that is where Jaemin will come in.”
“Finally! I’m here!” Jaemin chimes in.
Both you and Sunghoon roll your eyes.
“Let’s see how many of the skills you remember,” you say as you catch your breath.
“I’ll tell the instructors to save a spot for you in Basic 1,” Sunghoon adds on. "You can learn how to skate with those new ice dance boots you bought."
Jaemin flips both of you off.
You step onto the bench while Sunghoon skates away to run through his third of the program.
You scroll through your phone as Sunghoon starts his routine. It’s not as if you don’t respect his skating; on the contrary, you never miss a performance. You just tune in for the big moments, which means that you don’t have to be as alert for these initial sessions.
While you’re nonchalant, Jaemin can’t tear his eyes away.
“If you told me ten years ago that he would be this graceful, I wouldn’t believe you,” the words fall out half under his breath.
You laugh. “Feed that line to the press.”
Jaemin’s eyes flit to yours. “You wouldn’t.”
You raise your hands into the air. “Kidding. I know exactly what you mean.”
From the beginning, Sunghoon had taken the most time to progress. All three of you had been considered advanced for your age group, but you and Jaemin had always been ahead of the curve.
Now, your friend was known for his focus on artistic elements; in many ways, you felt like he truly embodied the emotions of the characters he was portraying. You’d found that element of skating more difficult after your injury—you’d never been that good of an actor in the first place, and post-accident you didn’t find yourself that invested in pretending to be someone else.
“Do you ever regret not sticking with figure skating or ice dance?” You find yourself asking.
He shrugs. “Hard to say since we’ll never know my real potential. Although I did like the acting aspect of portraying a character.”
“So speed skating still has your heart,” you laugh. “Has it at least been worth diving back into it for a little bit? The theatrics of it all?”
Jaemin turns to you. He doesn’t smile at all, and his tone is dead serious. “It is. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.”
Your body hums in response from your heart down to your stomach. “Why’s that?”
He pauses. Then, without breaking eye contact, he smiles and leans in toward you. “What do you think?”
Jaemin smells faintly of oranges. Your head spins at the proximity. You can’t come up with something witty, even if you wanted to. “I–”
At the same time, Sunghoon loses his footing and falls to the ice with an oof. Both of your heads whip towards your friend, who rises and wipes the ice off of his clothes.
“You good?” You half-shout toward your friend.
He shoots you a thumbs up in response before continuing.
Jaemin gazes at you, but you’ve lost your nerve.
“It’s nice to be here with both of you again,” you say as you unlock your phone and sit back down. “It’s as if you never left.”
“Me too,” Jaemin says softly. “It’s just like old times.”
❅˚
It’s three weeks before the show. You rush to the rink alone this time to fit a makeup practice into your and Jaemin’s busy schedules. You groan internally knowing that it falls on your rest day, but the practice is needed. Between both of your training schedules, you had to take the free moments when they come.
You pick up coffees on the way. It’s the first time you’ve driven to practice by yourself in a week, and your nerves rise as you drive closer and closer.
There shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Sure, you and Jaemin still have parts of your routine to work on, but progress has been smooth up to this point.
You’re unable to shake off the feeling as you arrive thirty minutes early. You turn off your car and linger in the driver’s seat. You have two options: scroll on your phone in the car or head in early. The latter wouldn’t make sense under normal circumstances—if Jaemin wasn’t practicing.
You glance at the two drinks sitting in your cupholders. Surely there’s no harm in peeking?
You exit the car, both drinks in hand, before you can change your mind. You enter the rink with a sheepish energy, although you’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.
Jaemin’s alternating through basic circle skills. His coach watches at the sideline with a stopwatch in one hand and a phone recording the drill in its entirety from a stand.
More than the difficulty of speed skating itself, you can’t believe that Jaemin has been balancing it alongside the training for the gala. Not only are the skates completely different, but the main mechanics require raw power and endurance. Much different from the slower, technical precision of ice dance.
Despite no spins or jumps, he makes it look graceful. You make a mental note to attend his first competition. You could watch him skate forever, regardless of discipline.
Jaemin’s coach calls him in, reviewing the footage and giving feedback. His expression is neutral, and Jaemin merely nods and repeats the drill each time. It goes on that way until the end of his practice time.
You wave as Jaemin exits off the ice and down the ramp toward you. He blinks, and his steps stutter for a moment before he continues.
“Morning,” you avoid eye contact as you hold out his iced coffee. He hadn’t noticed you during his practice, but you feel shy nonetheless. “Got here a little early.”
“Oh,” Jaemin grimaces. “So you saw all that?”
“What do you mean?” You ask. “I thought you looked great.”
He scoffs. He focuses on something distant over your shoulder. “I don’t know if I would describe it as great.”
You’re at a loss for words. The scenario feels familiar—hell, you’d gotten this way during practice for your solo exhibition—but you don’t have enough technical knowledge of speed skating to immediately understand what happened. Beyond that, it’s rare to see Jaemin so quiet.
Your expression must be comically transparent, because you watch his eyes lock to yours and register your wide stare.
“Sorry, you just caught me at a weird practice,” he clears his throat. “I’ll be ready in fifteen?”
The gesture does little to settle you, but you manage your own uneasy smile. “Take your time. I’ll warm up.”
You’ve never been more grateful for the familiarity of center ice. You run through a quick warmup routine and even squeeze in a couple rough rehearsals of your solo routine for the show.
“Looks good,” Jaemin says as he finally steps onto the ice. “I almost feel bad to make you split your program in half.”
“You’re not making me do anything.” You frown. After everything the two of you have been through to get to this point, his sudden minimization makes you worry.
“Well, you know,” he says, alternating between the inner and outer edges of his blades in small swizzles.
“No, I don’t know,” you shake your head stubbornly. You glide in front of him without breaking eye contact. “I’m doing this because I want to. I want to skate with you.”
It’s the most forward you’ve been, but his expression doesn’t budge. Instead, he just nods. “Shall we?”
The two of you run through the routine a few times, but it’s as though the last few weeks have been for nothing. No matter how many times you restart or run through the counts slowly, the two of you struggle to sync. Rather—you know you’re hitting your movements, but Jaemin merely seems to be going through the motions.
When his hold on you wobbles on the ending pose, you snap yourself out of his arms and huff. “Okay, seriously. We’re done for today. Let’s go.”
Of all things, that seems to wake Jaemin from his daze. He skates after you. “Wait, I’m just off today—”
You ignore him, stepping off of the ice and into your skate guards. You briefly turn around to catch his eye.
Jaemin’s hovering on the ice by the door, watching you. His eyes plead.
You wave your arm towards you in a come here gesture. His face brightens, and he hurriedly follows after you.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out when he’s close to you.
You shake your head. “Wanna get lunch?”
-
You stare at each other from across the table.
“You first,” you point to Jaemin’s burger, which has arrived at your table first. “Don’t wait for me.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited to eat, but,” Jaemin crosses his arms. “Do you have to stare at me?”
You say nothing even as the server brings your own food over.
Jaemin sighs but starts eating nonetheless. “Happy?”
“Yes,” you say as you pick at your fries.
“If this is a way to make sure I’m eating, I don’t have issues with dieting while competing,” he mutters between bites. “Luckily.”
“Trust me, it’s not about that,” you laugh. “I know you can eat.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So then…?”
“You were just super out of it today,” you shrug. “You’ve been training pretty intensely this week, right?”
He frowns. “I have, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Compared to the work schedule I was doing before coming back to skating, it’s more or less the same.”
You point a fry at him accusingly. “There. That’s the issue.”
“That I work?”
“That you’re not taking time to not work.”
“No offense,” the words come out slowly, “but aren’t you, like, famously known for never taking breaks?”
You shake your head. “That was pre-injury me. Current me takes breaks. I have hobbies.”
“I have hobbies,” he insists.
“That you’ve invested in recently?” You ask. "Actively?"
He hesitates. “So what, burger eating is supposed to be my next hobby? I don’t struggle with diets, but that one might be hard.”
“Ha ha,” you say flatly. “I just wanted to get you away from training. You love burgers.”
Jaemin looks down at his burger, as if the sandwich itself has betrayed him. “I do,” he sighs. “You don’t need to baby me. I’m a grown man.”
“I know,” you say, looking away. “I just wanted to get your mind off of everything. You’re doing a lot.”
A small silence stretches between you. You can feel Jaemin’s gaze probing over your side profile, but you pretend to look around the restaurant.
“Do you still like bingsu?”
“I–” Jaemin’s smile is bright as day, and, more importantly, it’s genuine. You relax“I do.”
“Wanna go to the cafe near Sunghoon’s place?”
You exhale a relieved breath. “That sounds amazing.”
❅˚
“Quick break?” Jaemin pants after a full run through of your routine.
You simply nod, trying to catch your own breath. The two of you skate to the side without a word.
You pull out your phone. Mei’s sent you three images over text with a short question—Received all the photos for promo. You sure you’re okay with the team using these?
As a part of promotional material for the ice show, all three of you—Sunghoon, Jaemin, and yourself—had submitted throwback pictures to be posted by the official account.
Your picture depicted five-year-old you at your very first skating lesson—pink puffer and helmet in full display. It’s one of your favorites.
Sunghoon’s picture, to your surprise, has both of you in it. It must be from middle school, since you’re dressed in costuming from your first and final pairs competition together.
“What the hell?” Your jaw drops as you inspect the image. Jaemin glances over your shoulder, and you turn your phone to show him. “This is the last thing I would’ve expected him to send. I don’t think I even have any pictures of us from that era.”
Jaemin laughs. “Maybe since they asked Sunghoon for something from middle school? He was complaining about it. They asked me for elementary school pictures, so I had it easy.”
Sure enough, the last picture shows the three of you after a group private lesson together. Jaemin’s in the center smiling wide and bright. Sunghoon’s smile is reserved and slightly awkward to Jaemin’s right. You, on the opposite side, cling to Jaemin’s side in a big hug with an even bigger smile.
There it is. A wave of shyness. “I don’t think I have this one either.”
“It’s my favorite.”
“It feels like forever ago.” Your throat constricts as you speak.
“It’s certainly been a long time since then,” Jaemin says. His eyes are glued to the picture of the three of you. His lips soften into a smile.
“I can’t believe Sunghoon and I thought we could be partners,” you cough and wrinkle your nose. “I don’t think his arm strength would’ve kept up. And we would’ve killed each other.”
It’s as if Jaemin doesn’t hear you. “Do you wanna hear something funny?”
“Does it involve that one time Sunghoon dropped me on the ice, your mom took me to urgent care, and then that incident single-handedly made me quit pairs?”
“No, but that’s good.” Jaemin’s smile still floats on his face with a hint of mischievousness, like he’s keeping a secret.
“What is it, then?”
“I used to be so jealous of Sunghoon,” he laughs. “And look at us now, practicing the choreography for an exhibition performance as partners.”
Your mind goes blank. “Jealous? Why?”
He seems to snap out of his reverie at your question, expression growing a little shy. He shrugs “Well, you know.”
“Um, no, I don’t know.”
“Well, childhood crushes and all that,” he says quickly. He queues up the music on his phone. “So jealous over random things. Anyway, ready to practice the second half?”
He skates away to put his phone down on the ledge and start the music before you can respond. What he hasn’t calculated is that he will need to skate right back to you to practice the step sequence. Two can play at this game.
“Funny you say that,” you mutter as he takes your hand. “Considering my childhood self would’ve killed to be paired with you.”
He swallows thickly. You can tell he’s trying to tune into the music, but his steps are half a beat off. “Meaning?”
You’re not going to make it that easy for him. “Same thing that you meant.”
The step sequence is naturally push-and-pull as Jaemin leads you through each stroke and turn, but today it feels like something more: a balance of power.
“We were partners before,” he murmurs before his hands anchor on your hips to guide you into a synchronized spin.
“Briefly,” you say once you complete it. “But I was devastated when you quit altogether. I would’ve done anything to keep skating with you.”
You maintain eye contact through the remainder of this practice. There’s a charged feeling in every movement, every touch. Even when the steps call for distance, you feel the inevitable pull to come back together. In fact, it never feels close enough.
The two of you slide into a stop at the end of your choreography, but you keep staring at each other long after the song has ended. Jaemin’s brown eyes roam your features hungrily, until his gaze settles on your lips.
Jaemin's going to kiss you.
Time slows. The rink lights overhead make your eyes water, and your mind resurfaces into a complete blank. There's not much choice otherwise—not with his lips nearing yours.
You close your eyes, trembling from your head to your blades as your heart rattles against your ribcage.
Lips graze against your cheek. Gentle hands drift onto your cheeks after.
Your eyelids flutter open. Jaemin's face hovers in front of yours. His features flush in a soft pink, but his eyes seem to droop. The corners of his lips quiver up in a sad half-smile.
"Not now," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sorry."
You come to your senses as he skates away, blinking around at your surroundings, as if you've woken up from a long sleep.
No words are exchanged as you both grab your things and exit. It's hardly mumbles of goodbye before going your separate ways.
You slam the car door closed and exist in the silence.
Although it just occurred, you're already winding back the events and weighing what could've been done differently.
You should've demanded answers; pushed him away and left in a storm. Or, maybe, you should've done the opposite—allowed all of your real emotions to sweep and pull at your face.
In actuality, you have no real confidence in the efficacy of either. You just hate the way it ended: neutral, as if you're two strangers rather than friends pushing at something more—not that you had the faintest idea of what. Just…something.
Even later that night, the exact details blur together, feeling more like a hallucination more than a memory. Had you made it up in your head? No, Jaemin was definitely flirting with you. Again. But Jaemin flirted with everyone—well, no, it does feel different when Jaemin flirts with you. Tender.
The moment replays over and over again, trapped within your thoughts. You try to sleep, but your mind is too busy fixing itself on the minute details: how his hands felt around you, the soft brush of Jaemin's lips against your skin.
All of your previous confidence feels like it evaporated from your body. All that filled your mind at the time was the near-aching urge to unleash your pent-up feelings. There had been absolutely no regard for the meaning afterwards, not that it mattered—he pulled away anyway. A wisp of a rejection.
If it happened, would it have even meant anything? You muse to yourself as you trace the lines of your ceiling. It could totally have just been harmless flirting.
For yourself, you know there's only one answer. You're well beyond dismissing your behavior with Jaemin as remnants of an old crush. Still, you wonder when they turned into more, as you can't pinpoint when they intensified. It's as if these new feelings could consume the old ones in their entirety.
You wonder if this newfound hunger will ever be satiated. This is more time than you could've imagined spending with Na Jaemin, but it never feels like enough.
You wonder if Jaemin is thinking of you half as much as you're thinking of him right now.
The thought barely fades when, like a sick, cosmic joke, your phone vibrates on your nightstand. Na Jaemin flashes on the screen.
You lunge for it and straighten your posture, clearing your throat and sliding a finger across the screen to answer. "Hey. What's up?"
"Hey," Jaemin says. "Did you see the group chat? What do you think?"
"Uh, no. I didn't see it," you admit. "What's up?"
"Coach Brown's wife asked if we want to visit him. Since he was cleared to finish his recovery at home."
"Oh—yeah, of course." The words come out rushed. It's as if you're speaking with a mouth filled with cotton balls. "I'm down."
"Cool."
"Are…are we all going?" You ask, then immediately regret it.
"Yes, of course." A pause. "I can take you tomorrow. Since we'll be going after the team meeting."
"Team meeting—?" Ah. The meeting with Mei and Jeff. "Right—yeah, we can carpool. If you don't mind."
"I don't," he says. "I'll pick you up at 1:30?"
"Sounds good."
"About today," Jaemin blurts out. "I'm sorry."
You slouch and close your eyes. "Sorry for what exactly, Jaem?"
"Well—we almost—you know." It's the most you've ever heard him stumble over his words. You would kill to see what flustered looks like brushed over his face. "Right?"
"So you're sorry that we almost kissed." The words flatten as you speak.
"God—can we talk? After our meeting? Or after we visit Coach Brown?"
Stress laces through his tone. Your heart sinks. "Of course."
Jaemin waits for a beat, but you refuse to give in. You don't want to have this conversation over the phone either, and he already offered.
"Good night, Jaemin," you offer.
"…Good night," he murmurs. "Sleep well."
You toss your phone back on the nightstand and cover yourself with the blankets. After that, you're in for the most restless sleep of your life.
"Last alignment meeting," Jaemin says on the way in. "Ready to do this thing?"
You force a smile. Not only are you reeling after a grand total of four hours of sleep, but the car ride over had been little more than dull niceties. "Something along those lines."
He frowns, but you pick up your pace and barrel inside.
Jaemin ends up drifting towards Jeff, although he looks over his shoulder at you.
You shrug and sit at the other end of the table, waiting for Mei to arrive.
Jaemin and Jeff huddle at the front of the table, gesturing and whispering among themselves. They only snap to attention when Mei strides in and shuts the door closed with extra force.
"Good afternoon," Jeff greets with his usual professionalism.
Mei and Jeff jump into reviewing the analytics from the last month. It lives up to your expectations; ever since the ice show announcements and promos ran, it was like someone hit a switch. You—according to sources, since you still avoided social media like the plague—were showing up less in search inquiries. If you were, then content leaned more supportive.
Still, looking at the cold hard numbers, it's clear that Jaemin's growth is unstoppable. Your followers grew by nearly triple, sure, but his total follower count still runs laps around yours.
"I think fans are just grateful to see you so active," Mei explains.
You steal a glance at Jaemin. His face gives away nothing. He looks like a statue, his expression carved in fierce stoicism.
By all metrics, both of your social media profiles look healthier than ever. Buzz has calmed down, and, by some miracle, your "relationship" appears to be accepted by the general public.
"In my opinion—we'll wrap with the ice show, both parties can post the photos from the event, and I think the performance will speak for itself!" For someone so corporate, Jeff looks downright giddy.
You and Mei meet his enthusiasm with tempered applause. Jaemin doesn't even look up.
"Well, there is one matter we should discuss, now that we're at the tail end of things." Jeff's voice turns into the poised tone you're familiar with. "When to announce the breakup."
It shouldn't have this much of an effect on you—it's a fake relationship, after all!—but your body stiffens on its own. You cross your arms over your chest.
You expect Jeff to defer to Mei, but he clears his throat to continue.
"A development that we will not be officially announcing anytime soon…Jaemin is planning on moving back to his old rink."
Your eyes snap to Jaemin. He's already looking at you, assessing your every minute reaction.
"His current coach divulged that he's moving up his retirement timeline. Jaemin's going to add his new coach onto his official team as support for now, then he'll make the hard switch next season."
The same sad glimmer from yesterday shines in his eyes. You understand in an instant—he knew it, even then.
"We're thinking, to leverage the speed skating season, we'll have Jaemin withdraw significantly from posting on social media. That way, breakup rumors and potential fallout can be addressed outside of the season for both sports."
"So no official announcement," Mei muses. "Just a fizzle out."
Jeff nods. "Just a fizzle."
"We'll discuss." Mei glances at you in the corner of her eye, so quick you almost miss it. "For now, we'll just aim to keep social media normal following the show."
You don't want to discuss it. You want to eject yourself from this meeting and dash under the covers, but today is not an option. Not when you, Jaemin, and Sunghoon have a scheduled visit with Coach Brown.
"Ready?" Jaemin asks after the meeting wraps.
You nod without a word and follow him to his car.
"I know you're mad," Jaemin rushes through his words right when your door closes. "Let me explain."
"No need," you say while pulling the seatbelt tight across your torso. "I think Jeff gave us the appropriate context. You're switching coaches, so you already decided to leave."
He runs a hand through his hair. "It's really not my choice. I didn't expect this at all."
You shrug. "Things happen."
Jaemin glances at you, but you train your gaze ahead. "Are you mad because—"
You cut him off. "This isn't a guessing game. It's either you have something to say, or you say nothing."
Jaemin's temper is rarely put to the test, but today you come very close: clenched jaw, sharp brows.
"You know what?" He says. "We'll just talk after we see Coach Brown."
"Fine by me."
Jaemin starts the ignition and snaps the gears into reverse. As both of you have decided there's nothing to say, you spend the entire car ride in pointed silence.
"It's so sweet of you kids to come out here and visit him," Mrs. Brown leaves a bowl of fruit on the center of the table. Not even thirty seconds later, she's back with pretzels. Thirty seconds after that, cookies.
"That's all right, Cynthia," Coach Brown chuckles. "You're going to scare the poor things off."
You, Jaemin, and Sunghoon sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the coach with small smiles. Sunghoon, with his endless generosity, insisted that Jaemin sit in the middle. You initially wanted to strangle Sunghoon, but you also can't help but be hyperaware of Jaemin's muscles pressing into your own.
Despite the current weirdness between two-thirds of you, this was something that didn't need to be discussed at all. Although, sitting here, you and Sunghoon fiddle with your hands and squirm a little in the heavy atmosphere. In situations like this, it's difficult to know the right things to say.
Jaemin leans forward, stands up, and shuffles over to Coach Brown's bedside. "You gotta look at this, coach," he laughs.
While you and Sunghoon sit glued to the couch, the whispers of what you want to say lodged firmly in your throats, Jaemin chatters on like it's just another day.
You feel a flash of pride. Then hurt.
How was it so easy for him to go about and act as though nothing affected him?
You shake the thoughts from your head. This isn't about you.
The three of you relax more through the visit, although Mrs. Brown gently cuts it short to allow Coach Brown to rest.
You all wave goodbye and promise to come again, then you're standing in the parking lot, hovering by your cars.
You're about to ask Sunghoon to drive you when he speaks first. "Jaemin, you can take her back, right? I have something else after this that I already committed to."
The bastard is lying; you know for a fact he's playing nothing but video games tonight. He meets your eyes and grins.
Your welcome, he mouths, none the wiser.
You roll your eyes.
"Yeah, I was going to take her anyway," Jaemin says, shooting you a suspicious side glance.
The two of you say bye to Sunghoon and step back into Jaemin's car. Instead of saying anything, he turns the music up until the bass reverberates the entire car. You spend the drive listening to bass boosted music and wonder if he's lost his mind. Still, you tolerate it—until he takes a couple wrong turns.
"What the hell are you doing?" You try to shout, but the music drowns out your words.
He doesn't even glance at you. You realize, scanning the horizon, that he's driving you to the park nearest to your house. Jaemin pulls into a spot, turning to you when he turns off the engine.
"Want to go on a walk and talk?"
You've often driven past your local park on weekends, swarming with families and soccer games, but today, on a random weekend evening, it's peaceful. The sunset just barely kisses the horizon, blending shades of orange and pink across the sky.
Jaemin walks at your side in shorts and a gray sweatshirt. His hoodie's pulled up, and you're wearing one of his baseball caps over your head.
You walk side-by-side for a while, kicking rocks down the pavement.
After a while, he finally speaks first. "I'm sorry for not telling you directly about the move."
You stiffen. Your legs are still in motion, but your movements feel robotic. Yeah, you'd wanted him to figure it out on his own, but you weren't expecting him to actually know so fast.
Your surprise must show, because Jaemin then clicks his tongue and exhales. "Whew. That must've really pissed you off, if you're that surprised that I got it right."
You find your voice. "Yeah. I didn't love hearing about it through your team. Again."
He winces. "I know. I told him not to mention it, but he kinda went a little rogue there."
"No." You shake your head. "It's not just that aspect of it."
Confusion. "Then…?"
You shrug and throw your arms up. "I wish you told me yourself, Jaemin. No team. Not because you need to tell me in the name of the contract. I wanted you to tell me, face to face, friend to friend."
His jaw drops. "I—"
"I thought we've grown since the start." You hate how your voice trembles. "You knew how upset I was when this started, but you went ahead and did the same exact thing. No mention of these deliberations, even when I see you every day. It's like I mean nothing—"
A shadow crosses his face. "Don't finish that sentence," he snaps.
The two of you are stopped in the furthermost part of the path by a cluster of trees, hidden in the corner from the rest of the park-goers.
You poke a finger into his chest with each word. "I. Mean. Nothing. To—"
It all happens in one swift motion. Jaemin grabs your wrist before you can poke him again, then he tugs you wholly into his chest. His eyes flash before he crashes his lips onto yours.
Your first kiss with Jaemin is the opposite of your near-kiss; from the beginning, you collide, rough and wild, pushing against the other.
This is what you missed out on; it could've just been like this at the rink, too. The realization fuels another flash of irritation paired with a slight thrill. Kissing Jaemin gives you the same rush as competing. Pure adrenaline and dopamine override your senses.
All you can think about is his lips on yours. From the way he pulls you close, hands firmly placed on your back and hips, you know he's equally as lost.
More, you think. The urge completes the thought you've pushed back for months: regardless of the extensive time you've spent together, it will never feel like enough. Down to the level of comfort, the silent understanding, and now the physicality—in this moment, you never want to let Jaemin go.
Probing, you swipe your tongue across his lower lip. He hesitates, easing the pace into slow rhythms. It's not an outright denial—you try again, this time lightly nibbling.
"Alright," he pulls away and presses his forehead to yours as you both catch your breath. "That's enough."
"You started it," you huff with a laugh.
He laughs, then scans around your surroundings. It's not the smartest thing, but there's no one around now, at least.
You lean back in, but he shakes his head. "Can we just…talk?"
He sits down on the closest bench and gestures next to him. You follow.
"I'm sorry for not telling you. It was true though—I wanted you to hear it from me."
You bite your lip. "I believe you."
"I'm sorry for…doing that, too. Just now," he adds.
The relief evaporates immediately. "And you're sorry about…what, exactly?" You ask coolly.
He pales. "I—"
"No more beating around the bush, or going through our teams," you say. "Just tell me what you're thinking please. I think I deserve the truth."
Jaemin thinks for a minute, then grins. "I have feelings for you."
"Jesus, Jaem—" Your whole body feels like it's burning up and smoking into the evening sky.
"What?" He shrugs. "I wanted to just get that out in the open, before you start getting ideas that you don't mean anything to me."
He gives you a pointed look. You stick your tongue out at him.
"I'll say that too. You mean a lot to me."
"I get it," you grumble. His charm has completely disarmed you. "You mean a lot to me too."
His smile shines bright and blinding, even against dusk. "I'll be here for this season before moving, then I'll be three hours away. I still want to give us a try. We can try to make it work even through our schedules."
Even through the warmth of his confession, a cold dose of reality hits you when reminded of your own impending training. "Jaemin…that might get a little crazy, don't you think? Training schedules are one thing, but competition and travel are another."
"I want to go to your competitions," he declares. "At least a good amount of them. I want people to see me supporting you."
You should be happy—after all, Jaemin's discarding his notorious privacy—but the thought of the general public remaining permanent witnesses to your private life makes your stomach coil. Your mind leaps to the worst possibility—what if you flopped next season? Would you retire, disgraced? Would they talk about you online—Na Jaemin's girlfriend, a washed-up skater anchored to him by memories?
"Even if your girlfriend doesn't reach the same legend status?" You ask with a bitter smile.
Jaemin deflates. "You've had a great career."
There it is: had.
You sigh. "Can I think about it?"
"Why?" He demands.
"I just—I want to think about it Jaemin, jeez! One day you don't want to kiss me, the next day you're kissing me and telling me that you want to be together—it's a lot."
"You wanted me to be open and honest," he says quietly. "So I'm leaving it all out there."
He's right. You're being a massive hypocrite, and he's presenting everything that you've wanted right there.
Even with the perfect man offering you everything, you can't shake the rotten doubt that it's too good to be true. You'll ruin what you have, just like you've ruined everything else.
"I mean, I've said it before, but I still think that my image benefited from this arrangement more than yours."
"Come on," he says, hugging you from behind. "You know I don't care about that stuff. "
"I know." You lean back into his chest. It's almost easier to speak openly when you're not looking directly at him. "It's just…when I think about it—really try to think about it—I don't know how everything's supposed to fit together. Once we both go back to training full-time."
His hug on you loosens a little, although you feel his shoulders tighten. "Like…you don't know where I fit into your life after this?"
"No," you respond, then hesitate. "It's like…"
That was the thing—for all of the time you'd spent out of the other's orbit, it was now hard to picture your life without Jaemin's presence. You could see the possibilities laid out clearly: going to his competitions or watching them online if you were out of town. Calling him before your events to calm your nerves, then calling him again after to debrief.
Undoubtedly, Jaemin brought the levity into your life that had been missing for years. But when you tried to conjure your role in his life, your mind drew a big, looming blank.
"I just don't know how I'm going to fit in your life, Jaem," you admit, your voice low and quiet. "We're so different. You're a success that's able to just climb and climb, and I've been struggling for the past five years. I don't know if I belong in your world."
His voice drops. "It's the same world."
"You know I don't mean literally." You untangle your limbs and turn to face him.
Jaemin's lips tighten into a straight line that's neither a smile nor a frown. There's the slightest crease bending between his eyebrows.
Your chest constricts at the sight, and you struggle to breathe. More than the sadness pooling in his features, there's something worse under the surface: disappointment.
You open and close your mouth, forgetting your words, but Jaemin speaks first.
"Do you know you have a tell when you jump?" He says.
"I—excuse me?"
"It has nothing to do with your speed, or even your technique right as you load into it," his eyes turn fiery. "I can tell if you're going to land it based on your expression alone. When you're about to land it, you get this cute, determined scrunch across your whole face. When you're about to pop it or mess up the landing, you get this scared look in your eyes. Like you're about to cry, even before you take off."
"So what?" You manage to choke up. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're giving me the same face right now, babe." Jaemin looks tired. "You look like you don't believe in this at all."
"I just need time."
"Then you can have it."
Silence stretches and expands between you. You hate this. You want to grab his hand and tell him that everything is going to be okay, but you can't make promises that you're not sure you can keep. You're hurting both of you in the process, but you can't stop.
"I just need time," you repeat, a broken record. "After the show?"
"Okay. We'll talk about it then." You see it cross his face again. Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. "Let me take you home."
You finish the final touches of your makeup. You take a deep breath.
You're wearing the same dress from your Nationals free program. The ice blue fabric clings to your torso before flowing down your legs in sweeping waves.
You'd selected this dress for the show shortly after Nationals concluded—it was one of your favorites, and you hadn't been in the mindset to pursue a new look on a tight timeline, anyway—but you feel a brief flash of regret.
Dressed like this, it's impossible to not think about the last time you wore this dress. What started as yet another sad stamp in your fractured career pivoted to so much more. Your near-catastrophic failure of a program turned comeback, followed by the return of Jaemin into your personal life.
You pick up your phone, thinking to text Jaemin your revelation, only to remember and put it back down again. You'd left for the rink without checking whether he'd extend an offer to carpool or, at minimum, reach out at all to clear the air. He didn't—now, your first time seeing him today would be within the next thirty minutes, right before your show together.
A deep urge digs at your gut. You want to march right into the room you're mostly sure Jaemin's getting ready in with Sunghoon, drag him out, and demand answers. That, despite everything, he hasn't given up on you.
It's just an instinct. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes. A deep breath.
As you are choosing to handle this maturely (which rules out marching into his dressing room), you brace yourself for what's bound to be your first encounter: your off-ice warm up.
You've shown up ten minutes early. You're cycling through your second round of dynamic movements—light jogs, lunges, leg swings—until the remaining skaters begin to turn the corner.
You hear the slight lapse in chatter, but you ignore it. You're only looking for one face in the crowd.
A hand grabs your bicep. Sunghoon. "Hey, what's going on?" He hisses low into your ear. "Jaemin's pissed."
You swallow. "How pissed?"
"Pissed." His eyes narrow. "You don't seem surprised."
"Well, I…" A familiar figure rises in your peripheral. You free yourself from Sunghoon's grip. "I'm handling it. Promise."
Worry crosses his face. "Is that…good timing right now? Right before everything?"
Your confidence droops a little, but you push through it. "The timing is shit, but it has to be now."
Sunghoon releases your arm. You step forward toward the corner of the space, where Jaemin warms up with a small group of skaters.
He's wearing full-length black trousers that elongate his legs. His long-sleeved top echoes yours in shades of white blending into ice blue. A perfect pair.
You haven't seen him in days. It's like observing him through the lens of a stranger as he enraptures the attention of all around him with endless charm.
For the first time, it occurs to you; if you truly step away, this could be your new reality. Rooting for him from a distance rather than working through each struggle together. Polite yet restrained smiles of acknowledgement that refuse to reopen old wounds. The thought makes you ache.
You know it, then. You can't bear the thought of becoming strangers to one another again. As much as it stings to face your fears, the possibility of losing Jaemin hurts you more.
Rationally, you know that you can only blame yourself for this current situation—after all, it was your insecurities that had pushed him away.
Time after time, Jaemin had proven his genuine feelings and intentions toward you. This time, it was your duty to do the same.
Despite your reassurance to Sunghoon, you're scared to confront him. You're scared, but you push through anyway. You know, deep down, that going on the ice with Jaemin without addressing anything first will crack something deep in your foundation. You don't know how he'll react, and you don't want to find out.
"Hi," you breathe out from a slight distance.
Jaemin steps away from the group. His expression controls itself in an even neutrality, but he scans over your costume and over the details of your makeup.
"Hi," he responds.
A pause. There's a million things you want to say—what you know you should say, but you have no idea where to start.
"Are you ready?" You ask weakly.
"Yes." Then, he adds. "You don't need to worry. We'll give them a good show."
A good show. They're innocent words by themselves, but the accompanied tone leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
"Performance," you can't help but correct. "We'll give them a good genuine performance."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that not what I just said?"
He's messing with you. The cold shoulder sends hot desperation down your spine.
"Please don't be like this," you plead with him. "Can we just talk?"
"We are talking." He doesn't even look up at you.
"Come on, Jaemin. You know what I mean."
He leans down to retie the laces on his skate. He pulls so tight that the fibers creak against the boot. "I have been talking to you. Ever since we crossed paths again—I think I've been more than clear about where I stand. You're the one that needs more time."
"I don't need any more time." You admit. Your throat is raw. "I don't."
He stops.
This is it, you think.
Except, it's the opposite. Jaemin finishes lacing up his skates in a flash of panic and darts away.
"Jaemin," you call after him. You double back, grabbing your bag before taking off after him.
He weaves past the other skaters, who look at the pair of you with either curiosity or confusion. You're sure that some sort of account of this will end up on some sort of gossip blog or forum later on.
It's not hard to catch up to Jaemin, given that he's hobbling on top of blades covered by blocky skate guards. You end up cornering him in his own dressing room.
"Are you done?" You ask, exasperated. "We don't have time for this. I'm on in fifteen, then you're on with me right after."
"Yeah," he mutters, eyes darting around the room to and fro. "Let's not do this now. Let's wait."
"No way." You're blocking the door now. "God, just—listen to me, babe."
The pet name hangs in the air between you.
Realization dawns on his face, and an uneasy smile stretches completely across his features. "I'm listening."
"Thank you," you cough. Your face feels hot enough to melt ice. "I messed up yesterday."
He nods and waits for you to continue.
"Ever since you came back into my life, it's just felt like everything spiraled out of my control. Having you back and supporting me wholeheartedly while I've been struggling for so many years…" You frown while trying to find the words. "I guess I didn't believe it. I didn't feel like me or any of the work I've done for the past few years was worth that sort of blind optimism."
"It's not blind," he offers.
You ignore him. "You're perfect in, like, everything you do. I had you up on this crazy high pedestal, and I thought I would never be able to actually meet you there."
You look at Jaemin. His gaze is soft.
"You show everyone the best sides of you, but I want to see all of it. Whether you're excited or irritated at how training went, if you're annoyed at your fanbase." You draw in a breath. "I want to see all of you. I want to be with you, after this. Away from the cameras, and just for us."
Jaemin's eyes roam over your face. Then, he exhales loudly and hangs his head on top of his thighs. His shoulders shake as he laughs to himself. "Good god…"
Everything burns. "What?"
He rises to his feet and stands above you. His hands cradle your chin, their touch cool yet gentle. "I shouldn't have lost my temper at you. I'm sorry."
Your throat is dry. "Then…?"
"I got carried away even letting myself think that an idea of us would be possible." Jaemin admits. "I wasn't thinking enough about how you felt."
You nod your head wordlessly, transfixed by his words.
"You don't give yourself enough credit. Your work ethic, your charisma…you don't have to prove anything to anyone." He pauses. "It's not like anyone's perception of us will change, since I guess we're already publicly dating, but I'm ready to love you out loud. Whenever you're ready."
"Love."Your head spins. "Jaemin—"
"Jaemin, you don't know that you love me. Wrong." he anticipates your words with a shit-eating grin. His thumbs caress your cheeks. "I didn't realize it at the time because I'm such a dumbass, but I think I've loved you my whole life."
You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks, which slightly overlaps with his hands lining the sides of your face. "You have?"
"Yup." He takes one of your hands in his and presses a soft kiss to your skin. "No pressure to say it back, though. Take your time."
You don't need time; you've always known it deep down. Regardless of location, age, or circumstances, Jaemin's always reserved a space within your heart.
"One minute," you murmur, reaching for your bag. A pink bunny plushie slides out, and you hand it into the hands of the original gift-giver.
"Mr. Hops?" Jaemin tilts his head.
"I don't compete without him," you lower your gaze shyly. "So I guess you'll be in charge of making sure I have it at competitions."
Jaemin hugs him tight. "I—"
"What I'm trying to say is," you take a step towards him. "I love you too."
Jaemin closes the gap between you. The kiss carries all of your conflicting emotions and promises that you're still a little scared to say out loud. All you know for sure are two things: first, you love Jaemin, and second, to love Jaemin, you're determined to be more comfortable with the unknown.
"Jaemin, I've been knocking, you're on—" Sunghoon lingers in the threshold, jaw dropped. "What the hell?"
The room falls into wide stares. You jump away with your arms raised in surrender, Jaemin squeezes Mr. Hops to his chest, and Sunghoon points a silent, accusatory finger around the room.
"I've been looking for you, Jaemin," his finger moves to you. "You're on in like, five minutes." Finally, it lands at Jaemin's arms. "Why is Mr. Hops here?"
"We can explain," you blurt out.
Sunghoon glares at you. "You're going to explain, you dirty liar. After. You guys have to get your asses out there first."
The corners of Jaemin's eyes crinkle as he looks at you. You feel a warm swell of affection in your chest.
There's so much more you want to say to him, but the show must go on. For now, you press a quick peck to his lips and interlace your fingers together. "Ready?"
Jaemin's smile is so wide that it looks like he might explode with happiness. "For you? Anytime."
Sunghoon fake gags but holds the door open for you.
You hold hands the entire way to the ice. The crowd loses it. You faintly perceive the screams and camera flashes, but all you focus on is the feeling of Jaemin's hand in yours.
When you step on the ice, you think, this time, that this is just the beginning.
pairing: researcher! mark lee x corporate heiress! reader | genre: angst, fluff, smut | words: 9k+ (36k+ total)
parts: 1. 2.
synopsis: what do you do when the ghost of your twenty-one year old self walks back into your life five years later with a proposal so absurd it sounds like a joke? that's the question mark lee finds himself asking when you appear. it should've been easy to refuse, to walk away, to pretend it never happened. too bad first loves are stubborn, billionaires are terrifying and letting go has always been the problem.
warnings: still a bit angsty! but i promise this part will give you a tight hug <333, please keep previous warnings in pt 1 in mind!!! probably inaccurate descriptions of pregnancy and childbirth and a water breaking (i’ve never given birth oops) +18 a toxic father! doesn't get too descriptive, a split lip, unprotected sex!!!!!, teasing/grinding, riding, oral (ofc, mark can’t help himself), nipple-play, missionary, mentions of: condoms, a cigarette. hope i didn’t miss any!
an: here is pt 2!!! as promised — i didnt want to make you wait for too long. this takes place right after pt. 1. have fun reading! don’t forget to let me know what you’re thinking!! - with love, c.
💎 DO YOU LOVE ME? 💎
“you may enter the office now,” winter’s voice snaps mark out of his train of thought.
this is ridiculous. was he expected to play the part, too? was he supposed to slide into that room, adjust his tie and pretend that nothing happened? pretend he hadn’t just watched the woman he loves walk away with a split lip and eyes that looked like they had seen the end of the world?
mr. zhong and karina began to move toward the office but mark’s feet can’t seem to follow. instead he turns, scurrying in the direction you disappeared to. the staff looks up then, confusion flickering across their faces at the sudden break in protocol.
mr. zhong takes one look at mark, letting out a sigh. he was too smart not to realize there was a hidden narrative unfolding. he let mark go without a word, signaling for karina to follow him in instead.
mark ran. he sprinted past several doors and velvet curtains, the mansion feeling like a maze. he was nearly breathless, his mind a whirlwind of guilt and fury – until he saw you.
you were standing on one of the open balconies, a light breeze in your hair and a single cigarette perched between your lips, the thin trail of smoke curling upward into the sky.
“you know smoking is bad for you?” he says, his voice rough.
he didn’t actually care about the nicotine. after knowing what he knows now, he understood why you had turned to the slow-killing machine to numb the pain of a fast-killing life. but he was drowning in emotion and that was the only sentence his brain could form.
you turn to him, the shock on your face evident, as you put out the cigarette, tossing it over the balcony.
“what are you doing here?”
he steps closer, closing the gap until only an arm’s length separates you, the scent of your vanilla scented perfume mixed with the smell of tobacco, “where else should i be?”
you huff a tiny, breathless scoff, a playful smirk tugging on your battered lip, “you should be in there,” you murmured, reaching out to fix the collar of his shirt, which had gone askew during his moment of ruin, “-impressing him.”
as your fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, mark reached out and gripped your wrist, stopping your ministrations. the reaction was instantaneous – you flinched slightly. it shattered his heart into a thousand pieces. the realization that you had been conditioned to fear a touch, even his touch, was a horror he couldn’t articulate.
“do you love me?” mark asked, a soft whisper yet loud and clear.
you blinked, your hand freezing against his chest, “what?”
“do. you. love me?”
you smiled softly, your eyes softening, “you’re a brilliant man, director,” you whispered, “you should already know the answer to that.”
“why did you leave me then?” he pleads, almost begging for the answer.
you closed your eyes for a moment. you still remember that day like it was yesterday. the day that haunted your every existence.
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA: FIVE YEARS AGO
❄️ THE END. ❄️
it was the day after christmas when your world turned completely upside down.
the two of you had planned to stay until new year’s. his mother had already declared you weren’t allowed to leave. his brother had threatened to chain mark to the house if he tried returning to university early. his father had already bought the meat for the barbecue on new year’s eve. and mark – mark had promised to take you to the christmas fair.
then your phone buzzed.
johnny (security): ms. y/n. go outside.
the text sent shivers down your spine. you slowly sat up as mark stirred slightly beside you.
“baby?” he mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed, “where you goin?” he whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.
“bathroom,” you lied softly, earning a hum from him, his mind still stuck somewhere between his dreams.
“mmkay,” he reached for your thigh, squeezing lightly, “love you,” he mumbled.
“i love you too,” you whisper, trying to hide the fear in your voice as he drifted back to sleep. completely unaware. completely trusting. you stared at him, memorizing everything, and suddenly, you wanted to wake him up and tell him everything.
but you knew better.
you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and quietly, you climbed out of bed and slipped out of the house, the lee household still fast asleep.
and there, across the street – stood johnny, standing beside a black sedan and inside that sedan is the shadow of a man you recognized immediately.
the sight alone made your posture straightened. you nod at johnny before he opens the door, leaving you face to face with your father. just like that, you stepped back into your real life.
your father doesn’t greet you. doesn’t ask how christmas was. he simply dropped a thick stack of papers onto your lap filled with pictures of you and mark from that very first convenience store date to the numerous ones that followed after that, to the park, to the street outside of mark’s apartment even to the ice skating rink.
every precious memory you thought was reserved only between the two of you was reduced to evidence. like it was a criminal investigation.
“father–”
“he’s the reason your grades are slipping.
“no,” you sputtered out, shaking your head, “no, that’s not true. i can fix it, it’s not that hard–”
“if it’s not hard, then why did they fall in the first place?” he looks at you then, that stern, stoic expression on his face like it wasn’t the holidays. it wasn’t a question, not really. he had no room for your explanations.
“we’re leaving and going back home.”
“what!? i can’t leave i–,” your voice cracked halfway, giving up.
there was never any reasoning with your father. and you knew that from the very start — this would always be your ending. so instead, you surrendered.
“at least let me say goodbye.”
“no.”
“please–”
“if you step foot into that house again. i will personally make sure mark lee and his family never have a successful future.”
your blood ran cold. the name of the man you love slipping from his lips was absolutely terrifying, a single statement enough to take your air away.
because you may be able to survive anything – his anger. his control. his disappointment. his hatred.
but mark had dreams. he had ambitions and parents who loved him. he had a future.
and you would never – never – take that from him
you looked down at your left hand, at the black marker ring still wrapped around your finger and quietly, you curled your hand into a fist.
“yes, father.”
mark woke up that day to an empty bed. he smiled, thinking you were just in the bathroom, then the kitchen, then maybe in the living room. but the time passed and you were nowhere to be seen. his mother thought you’d gone for a walk. his brother joked you’d left him for someone better. his father told him to relax. but something felt terribly wrong.
where would you even go?
by noon, he was calling your phone – it was no use. you had left it in in his room.
by evening – your social media has disappeared, your number had been disconnected.
by the next day, your existence is completely gone. almost as though he’d hallucinated ten months of his life. as though you had never been real at all.
there was no longer any trace of you in his world.
SHANGHAI, CHINA: PRESENT TIME
💎 DO YOU LOVE ME? (CONT.) 💎
“i had to,” you admitted softly, your voice exhausted, “my father is a very powerful man, mark. and he wasn’t happy,” you laughed bitterly.
“why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, eyes searching yours desperately, trying to understand it all, trying to get answers to questions he’s been repeatedly asking the sky, “i would’ve understood–i would’ve helped you, i would’ve–”
“because i wanted to feel it,” you whispered tiredly, your face losing all of its composure. you just looked heartbreakingly beautiful, “just once,” your voice trembled, “i wanted to feel it.”
he knows exactly what you’re referring to – that conversation in the library ringing back in his ears loud and clear. he knew now that you were afraid he wouldn’t have loved you if he knew who you were back then.
and maybe that was true. maybe he would’ve reacted differently. maybe knowing who you were would’ve changed everything. maybe he would've been intimidated. maybe life wouldnt bring you together like this.
but standing here now, with the woman he loves standing in front of him – he didn’t care about the maybe’s.
he didn’t care about the past anymore. not when you were right here.
“and did you?...feel it?” he asked softly.
you smiled. and nodded. letting the tears finally fall.
mark steps closer, completely removes the space between you, his chest nearly brushing yours, never letting go of your wrist. he needed the physical connection to believe this was real.
“i need to hear you say it,” his voice broke, eyes red now too, “…please. i need to hear you say you love me.”
the desperation in his voice was the key, unlocking the gates you had kept shut for half a decade. you melted, your strength vanishing as you clutched the fabric of his polo.
“of course, i love you,” you sobbed, the words spilling out in a rush of grief and longing, “mark…i have never loved anyone but you. i–”
“marry me.”
your breath hitches at his interruption, searching his eyes for any trace of a lie, anything that says this was a momentary lapse in judgment. but all you saw was the same boy in that tiny twin size bed.
“that,” his voice cracked as he laughed helplessly, “that’s all i wanted to hear…that you love me,” he admits, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes closing in relief and pain and love, all mixing together.
“it’s the only requirement i was searching for. everything else doesn’t matter. just love me, and i’ll burn this whole house down to get you out of here.”
you looked up at him, your vision blurred by the tears that continued to trail down your cheeks. for the first time in years, the weight in your chest felt lighter. a small, fragile smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a flicker of the girl he knows emerging from the wreckage.
“get me out of here then,” you whisper, your voice a broken, hopeful thread.
mark let out another breathless disbelieving laugh. he reached up, his hands cupping your face gently, thumbs moving with tenderness, wiping away your tears. his eyes darken when they landed on the tiny, swollen cut on your lip. he didn’t want to hurt you. he wanted to heal you.
when he finally leaned in, the kiss was slow, careful and devastatingly sweet. it wasn’t the desperate, hungry collision of two people who had been starved of each other – it was a promise. a quiet reclamation.
for five years, your clock had stopped the moment you were forced to let him go. but as mark pulled you closer, molding your body against his, you felt the ice finally crack, the world rushing back in.
time started moving again.
💎 WELCOME HOME. 💎
mark’s penthouse was astonishing, high ceilings, floor-to-floor windows that framed the glittering tapestry of city lights that twinkled like fallen stars, picture frames of his family scattered around the place and a gigantic plush couch that looked infinitely more welcoming and comfortable than your own bed.
you can’t stop looking around in awe, your eyes tracing the clean lines and the sophisticated yet homey decor. he had built this. all of this – the success, the luxury, the peace – he had achieved it on his own.
“it’s not as big as your mansion, but…” he said, his voice sheepish, a trace of the humble boy from the university still lingering in his tone, “it’s home.”
“are you kidding?” you turned to him, a radiant smile breaking across your face, “i’ve always hated that place.”
you stepped towards him, the distance between you vanishing in a heartbeat as your arms slid around his neck, pulling him close, while his hands instinctively settles on your waist, his grip firm and possessive, as if he was making sure you could never drift away again.
“i’m happy as long as you’re here.”
he didn’t need to hear another word. mark pulled you in, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that was soft and slow, yet humming with desperation. his tongue swiped across your bottom lip as he began to guide you backwards toward the couch, your lips never breaking contact, the kiss deepening into something hungrier, starving.
as you moved, you reached up and pushed his blazer off his shoulders. he let it fall somewhere on the hardwood floor. the heat between you spiked, the urgency of your touches increasing as the back of your legs hit the arm of the couch. you sat on the edge of the armrest, tugging him toward you by his tie, pulling his face inches from yours.
mark settled himself firmly between your parted legs, his large hands sliding to the small of your back to support you. you didn’t waste a second, your fingers working frantically to tug the tie from his collar, flinging it aside and focusing on unbuttoning his polo. when the shirt hit the floor, you let your hands wander, wanting to feel the heat of him – your palms slid over the hard planes of his chest, tracing down to his waist and the sculpted ridges of his abs.
you pulled slightly away from the kiss, breathless and flushed, “when did you get abs?”
he let out a laugh, light and airy – an intoxicating drug.
“once i stopped eating all those packets of ramen,” he joked, his eyes sparkling.
you laughed with him, the sound bubbling up from a place of pure joy, “god, i miss the buldak carbonara,” you groaned, looking up at him, “you know, i sometimes pretend i have meetings out of the city just so i could eat that in peace.”
he shook his head fondly, his gaze softening with an adoration that made your heart ache, “i would say i’d buy you all the buldak in the world…but it’s really not good for you, baby.”
the sound of the old nickname sent a swarm of butterflies erupting in your stomach and you can’t help but reach for him again, connecting your lips once more.
mark guides you to stand then, his hands sliding up your back until he found the zipper of your dress. in one smooth motion, he pulled it down, letting it slide off your skin, pooling around your ankles and leaving you standing before him in nothing but a matching pair of white lace underwear.
“fuck…you’re so beautiful,” he groaned, his voice dropping an octave, thick with raw desire. he took in the sight of you – the curve of your hips, the softness of your breasts, the vulnerability in your eyes – looking at you with absolute worship.
you love the way he looks at you.
a playful smile tugged at your lips as you reached down, hooking your finger through the belt loops of his trousers and pulling him flush against you. your fingers worked quickly, unbuttoning his pants and sliding the zipper down, letting the fabric join your dress in a heap on the floor.
with a sudden, playful shove, you pushed him onto the couch. mark landed on his back, his legs sprawling, as he looked up at you with a teasing, hooded gaze.
you crawled over him, your knees pinning his thighs, feeling the hard muscle of his legs beneath you. he didn’t wait for you to make the first move, his fingers combing into your hair to pull you down into a kiss that was wetter and more desperate than the last. it was all tongue, a frantic exchange of longing.
while your lips remained locked, your hand wandered down, tugging his boxers off as he raised his hips up to help you. you gripped his cock, rubbing the length of him up and down. he was already half hard – the heat of him pulsing against your palm as you stroke him to fullness. mark let out a low, guttural groan into the kiss, his hips instinctively bucking upward, seeking more of your touch.
you paused for a second, pulling away to quickly remove your underwear, the fabric already damp and stained with your juices. you tossed them aside without a glance, the cool air of the penthouse hitting your skin for only a second before you shifted, pushing his cock up to stand between your pussy lips so you could grind against it, trapping him against your heat and coating him with your wetness — the friction against your clit feeling so good.
mark slid his hands behind his head and leaned back into the cushions, looking completely content, a tiny, wicked smirk on his lips as he watched you get lost in your own pleasure.
“do you want to use a condom?” you asked, smiling at him, your voice already a bit breathless, your need for him all consuming.
he quirked a brow, his eyes locked on yours. “you’re literally going to be my wife,” he says, sitting up suddenly, his arms bracing behind him to lift his torso so he could reach your lips again, “fuck the condoms.”
you smiled against the kiss, “once again…a very brilliant man, director,” you whispered, your voice sultry and hot. which makes mark’s cock twitch in your hand. you raise a brow, a triumphant look in your eyes to let him know that you noticed that. he can’t help but let out a low chuckle, a faint, boyish blush creeping up his cheeks despite his newfound confidence.
that was a conversation for another day, right now – you were craving to feel him, your body screaming to be filled. you don’t waste another second, lining him up and sinking down on him in one motion.
you were so wet, so needy, that your walls took him in greedily, stretching to accommodate his size. a loud, broken moan escaped you as you rolled your head back, spine arching as you felt him bottom out deep inside you. mark let out a sharp grunt, his eyes snapping shut as he felt the crushing, velvet heat of your walls clamping down on him. the feeling of skin on skin, almost overwhelming.
“fuck–,” you whispered breathily, the senstaion almost too much to bear. you pushed him back down into the couch, your palms flat against his chest and began riding him in earnest.
as you rocked against him, mark’s mind flashed back to that tiny twin-sized bed and the clumsy, tentative moments of two virgins trying to figure it out. back then, it had been a discovery, now – it was a reclamation.
he watched you, mesmerized by the way you moved, the confidence in your hips, the way you knew exactly how to tilt your body to maximize the friction.
for a brief second, he wondered how you had become so skilled – but he couldn’t judge. he’s had his own share of one night stands. of nights spent with bodies trying to find what he only ever felt with you.
“f-feels so good, mark–” you moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the room.
he’s completely entranced, his gaze fixed on the sight of you riding him, your expression one of pure pleasure, the sounds coming from your lips adding to his desire.
his hands wandered up your sides, fingers expertly finding the clasp of your bra and with a practiced flick, he unhooked it. you let the straps slide off your shoulders, tossing the garment to the floor. mark surge upward, still letting you control the pace, but he wanted more. more of your noises. more of your body. more of you.
he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth with a hunger that made you cry out. he teased the sensitive bud with his tongue, swirling around it, almost as if he was making out with your breast – it was messy and wet, his saliva leaving glistening trails across your skin as he moved from one to the other, marking every part of you as his.
you gripped his back, nails digging into his skin, pulling him closer as your walls squeezed him even tighter with every touch, your hips instinctively rocking faster.
“you’re so pretty, baby,” he groaned, looking up at you with hooded eyes and flushed lips, trailing kisses up to your collarbone and then your neck, his mouth latching onto the sensitive skin there. he sucked hard, creating deep, dark marks that would serve as a reminder of this evening.
“keep riding me…just like that,” he whispered the praise into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.
mark’s hands slid down from your back to your hips, his fingers digging into your ass to take control, as he started guiding your movements – bouncing you harder, deeper, the sound of your bodies slapping against each other filling the quiet room.
“i’m close–i’m so close–,” you moaned into his ear, your voice breaking. you felt him everywhere – the stretch of him inside you, the heat of his chest against yours, the scent of his skin filling your lungs.
with a sudden surge of strength, mark flipped the positions – no stumbling this time, no hesitation. in one fluid motion, he had you on your back, hoisting your legs up and bending your knees to your shoulders, the angle steep and punishing, opening you up completely and allowing him to bottom out with a force that made you gasp. you swore you could feel the head of his cock pushing deep into your stomach.
“oh, god!,” you yelled, the sound a mixture of a scream and a shattered moan.
“not god…just me baby,” he grunts by your ear, his voice dark and teasing.
before you could even process the comment, he starts thrusting rapidly, driving into you with a raw, primal urgency. then – one of his hand pushed down on your lower stomach, increasing the friction to an unbearable level.
it pushed you over the edge – your eyes rolling back into your head, toes curling tightly as a wave of heat spread from your core to your fingertips. without warning, your orgasm crashed over you, hard and fast, your pussy clamping down on him in a series of intense spasms, as you sobbed his name.
mark didn’t stop. he kept driving into you, letting you ride the peak of your high, prolonging the ecstasy. then finally, with a guttural grunt and a deep final thrust that seemed to fuse your bodies together, he spilled deep inside you, groaning loudly into your ear as his entire body shuddered, collapsing on top of you, the weight of him a comforting pressure.
for a while, the only sound in the penthouse was the ragged sound of your shared breathing. the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
a small, breathless laugh eventually bubbled out of your lips, “holy shit–,” you whispered, your voice raspy, “that…was amazing. where the hell did you learn how to do that?”
mark let out a low chuckle, lifting his head just enough to look at you, a smug, playful grin on his lips, “where did you?” he countered, his voice still deep from the high.
you bit your lip, hiding a guilty smile as you looked away, “i don’t know what you mean.”
he rolled his eyes playfully, earning a real laugh from you, your eyes crinkling – the sound was music to his ears – a sound of genuine happiness that had been missing for far too long.
“i love you.”
your heart felt whole again as you reached up, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin, “i love you too, markie.”
💎 IT’S YOURS. 💎
as you lay half on top of him, your leg curled around his thigh, you felt a profound sense of peace. mark’s fingers were drawing slow, lazy circles on the small of your back, his touch light and grounding. you felt completely content, the world outside fading into insignificance.
you swore you could stay on this couch forever, tangled together and naked, skin to skin, listening to his heartbeat – a sound that belonged entirely to you.
but then, a sudden realization flickered in your mind, breaking the comfortable silence, “oh shit.”
“what?” he asks, his fingers pausing their movement.
“uhm–you left chenle to do the presentation,” you pointed out, lifting your head to look at him.
mark froze. he took a deep, slow breath and you could practically see the gears turning as reality slapped him in the face.
“awe, fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes, “he’s so gonna fire me.”
a tiny giggle escaped you, “don’t they give out warnings? i mean, they all keep saying you’re the best on the team, i’m sure he can let it slide.”
“yeah,” he replied, a sheepish, lopsided smile tugging at his lips, “except, i’m kind of already on his last straw.”
you quip a brow, waiting for the story there.
he scrunched his nose, looking embarrassed, “i almost killed his wife last year,” he admits.
“what?!”
“it was an accident!” he defended, though he looked slightly pained, “i didn’t know she was severely allergic to kiwis and i used a concentrated kiwi extract in one of the new vitamin product prototypes we were testing…she had a reaction.”
“ohhhh, so that’s what happened,” you say in awe, the pieces of a puzzle clicking into place, “i remember that week…the azur team sent over so many flowers and get-well cards wishing her a speedy recovery.”
mark sighed, the sound heavy with regret. you looked at him, your heart aching with a sudden urge of protectiveness as your hand trailed slowly along his jawline, fingers grazing his lips.
as if magnetically drawn to you, his lips followed your touch, pressing a soft, lingering kiss into the center of your palm, making you smile.
“well…” you started, voice soft, “if you still want to work for them, you can–i’ll make a phone call to smooth things over. but mark…once we're married, you know you don’t have to anymore, right?”
he blinked, looking up at you.
“you could start your own company,” you continued, “be your own boss.”
the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. up until this moment, his entire world had been centered on the simple, desperate need to have you back in his life, to hold you and keep you safe. the idea of power, status and leadership all felt so distant.
“you know i’m not marrying you for the money or the business, right?” he said softly, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood that his love was untainted by ambition.
you nodded, a tender smile playing on your lips, “i know,” you whispered.
“but all of it comes with marrying me…this world–the resources, the influence–it’s yours now, too.”
he took a deep inhale, the scent of you filling his lungs. for a moment, he thought about the weight of that world – the pressure, the expectations. but as he looked at you, he realized it didn’t scare him. this life he was about to step into didn’t feel like a burden because he wouldn’t be facing it alone.
there was only one thing mark was absolutely sure of – he never wanted to be at the top if you weren’t there beside him.
“it’s gonna be weird being on the same level as mr. zhong,” he joked, a playful glint returning to his eyes, “but i think i’ll survive…as long as you’re here.”
you giggled, the sound bright and melodic and leaned in to capture his lips again, soft and playful and filled with the promise of a future where neither of you ever had to say goodbye again.
💎 FAMILY. 💎
the days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of absolute chaos. you had finally played your hand with your father, telling him with a cold, unwavering certainty that you would push through the wedding he had meticulously planned – just not with the groom he had chosen.
surprisingly, he hadn’t fought you. there were no shouting matches, no dramatic ultimatum. instead, he had retreated into an oppressive silence but the air between you remained thick with a quiet simmering tension – you could feel his disapproval like a physical weight, that familiar cold draft that followed you through the halls of the mansion.
mark lee wasn’t a billionaire heir nor did he possess the kind of ancestral wealth your father craved for in a son-in-law. however, mark had a sterling, respected reputation. the industry adores him. he was the standard of talent and integrity. and your father was just going to have to be okay with that.
but to ensure your father couldn’t manipulate the narrative or find a way to sabotage the union, you took the ultimate gamble. you reached out to the media and announced your engagement to the world. the public’s reaction was a symphony of opinions – some were supportive, calling it a triumph of love over tradition. others whispered that mark was the luckiest man alive, while a cynical few wondered if he had somehow manipulated a wealthy heiress into choosing him. some even framed it as a modern-day cinderella story.
none of it mattered though. the noise of the world was nothing compared to the silence of the penthouse, where you ended every single night wrapped in his arms, the only place where you truly felt safe.
mark had facetimed his family in a frantic, nervous burst of energy, explaining the suddenness of it all and letting them know he was marrying you in a week. the initial shock had been palpable–the wide eyes, the stunned silences–but it had quickly melted into a wave of understanding and warmth. they didn't care about the scandal or the social standing. they only cared that the light had returned to their son’s eyes.
they had all flown in last night, filling the penthouse with a sudden warm energy. his parents claimed one bedroom, his brother in another and you and mark remained in the master suite.
the rich, savory scent of breakfast drifted through the air, gently coaxing you from your slumber. you opened your yes to find mark still deep in sleep beside you, his steady, warm breathing brushed against your ear, his arm draped lightly across your waist. you watched the peaceful expression on his face, before pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.
slipping out of bed carefully, you padded downstairs until you reached the kitchen.
“it smells incredible, mrs. lee,” you commented softly, leaning against the island counter and watching her move with effortless grace around the stove.
“oh, dear!,” she turns towards you, her face lighting up. you didn’t get a chance to catch up last night, everyone too tired from their flights.
mrs. lee looked at you with that same sparkle in her eyes – the same unconditional warmth she had shown you five years ago. it was as if she had completely erased the memory of the heartbreak you’d caused, as if she hadn’t witnessed mark slowly wither and lose himself during the years you were gone. she didn’t see a girl who had broken her son. she only saw the woman who had finally brought him back to life.
“you need to stop calling me mrs. lee,” she said, her voice sweet and firm, “we’re family now. you should call me mom.”
the word brought a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotions you tried to hold back but it was too late – the tears spilled over, hot and fast, trailing down your cheeks. a shaky, broken smile touching your lips.
for so long, family had been a word associated with fear, control and coldness. to have it offered so freely, so tenderly, felt like a miracle.
“oh…none of that, sweetheart,” she murmured even though her own eyes were starting to water.
she stepped towards you, carefully wiping your tears away with a maternal tenderness that made your heart ache, “you’ve done enough crying in your life, okay?”
she leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to your temple, “come on, i’ll teach you how to make my secret fried chicken recipe…it’s mark’s favorite, you know?” she gave you a playful wink, gesturing for you to join her deeper in the kitchen.
you followed her, your steps light, the heavy armor you had worn for years finally falling away. as you stood beside her, learning and listening to her stories about a young, clumsy mark, you felt the jagged edges of your soul beginning to smooth over.
your heart was healing, one small, loving step at a time.
💎 THE PROMISE. 💎
“your mom taught me how to make kimchi fried rice today,” you murmured in the quiet of your shared bedroom. this has become your sacred ritual since moving into the penthouse – just the two of you, facing each other, sharing your day.
“how was that?” mark asks, a small, knowing smile on his lips. this was his favorite part of the day. the noise of the wedding planning, the lingering tension with your father and the chaos of the public eye all vanished when you were here.
his hand rested firmly on your waist, while yours lay lightly over his chest.
“hmm…,” you pout slightly, looking at him, “considering i somehow managed to burn the rice…it might take a while,” you sigh, earning a chuckle from him, “i’m pretty sure your mom wanted to yell at me.”
mark huffs a breath, “please, she’s obsessed with you,” he teased, his eyes softening, “you could mess up a hundred more meals and she’ll still think you’re the most perfect person in the world.”
you beamed at that, the warmth spreading through your chest.
“what did you do today?” you asked, shifting your focus to him.
“well,” he began, his voice tinged with a bittersweet edge, “i handed in my resignation letter.”
the room went still for a moment. he had been with the company nearly eight years. he had poured his youth, his intellect and his passion into that career. leaving was a heavier transition than he had anticipated.
“what did the zhong’s say?”
“well, mrs. zhong told me to tell you that she can’t believe you would take her favorite researcher away,” he teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
you rolled your eyes, letting out a giggle, “god, she’s going to hold that over my head for years.”
but as the laughter faded, you looked up at him, your expression turning tender.
you began drawing slow, absent-minded heart shapes on his shirt, “how do you feel about it, though?”
“honestly? a little sad,” he admitted, his voice dropping an octave, “i’ve been there a long time. some of those people are practically family. it feels like closing a chapter of my life. but…” he paused, pulling you a fraction closer, his gaze intensifying, “-i’m ready for a change…for a life where i don’t have to answer to anyone but you,” he teases softly.
you leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “you’ll be amazing at whatever you do next. i know you will.”
“thanks, baby,” he whispered against your lips.
“did you do anything else?”
“mhm,” he hums, his hand sliding from your waist to your cheek, “i went to suit fittings with dad and hyung for the wedding. oh! and then–”
in one smooth motion, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers gliding down the line of your jaw and as he pulled back slightly, he revealed something he had been hiding in his palm–
a ring.
the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen – the massive, marquise-cut diamond that captured every stray beam of light in the room, sparkling like the snowflakes from that christmas day.
your breath hitched, your heart pounding as you locked eyes with him, “-what”
“i told you i’d put a real ring on this finger someday, baby,” he whispered, reaching out and gently taking your left hand in his. with a steady hand and a look of absolute devotion, he slid the band onto your wedding finger. it clicked into place – a perfect fit.
“you still remember that?” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion.
he took your hand, the one now adorned with the diamond, and pressed it firmly against his chest, right over his beating heart.
“y/n, i don’t think you realize…i haven’t forgotten a single thing when it comes to you.”
a wet laugh escaped you as tears of pure joy spilled over, “you can’t keep charming me like this, markie,” you whined, though you were leaning into him.
he quirked a brow, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, “and why not?”
“because,” you pouted, your voice dropping an octave as you looked at his mouth, “it just makes me want to jump your bones every time.”
mark’s laugh was loud and genuine, a sound of pure happiness that echoed in the quiet room. his hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, puling you even closer, “i am definitely not opposed to that.”
he crashed his lips onto yours, starting with a kiss that was soft and slow, a tender acknowledgment of the promise he had just placed on your finger.
but the tenderness quickly ignited into something more primal. in one motion, he shifted his weight, turning you onto your back and hovering over you.
he reached down, gripping the hem of the oversized t-shirt you were wearing – his shirt. you preferred wearing it over the expensive silk pajamas. he pulled it over your head and didn’t waste a second as his lips began a slow, torturous descent, trailing kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck to the hollow of your collarbone.
you let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering shut as he moved lower, his lips sucking firmly on each nipple, tongue swirling around the peaks until you were arching your back, a sweet, needy moan escaping you, your eyes closed, basking in the growing pleasure.
he continued placing kisses down your body, across your stomach, his breath hot against your skin until he reached your thighs. he didn’t strip you yet, instead, licking you through your underwear, his face against the thin fabric of your panties, already damp with your arousal.
“fuck–i missed this,” he groaned, the sound muffled against your heat.
he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs frantically. the moment you were bare, he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue finding your clit. he ate you out like a man who had been starved for a lifetime, his tongue flicking and swirling, drinking you in.
you whined, your hand immediately going down to clutch his hair, your hips bucking instinctively, pussy aching for more. you opened your eyes, breathless, watching the sight below you – so holy and unholy all at once – this sight of this respected, disciplined man reduced to a craving animal between your legs, while the diamond ring on your finger sparkled under the light.
“mark–mark–,” you moaned, your voice breaking. you tugged lightly on his head, needing him to stop the torture, “i need you…please. i need you inside me now.”
he surged back up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on him as he undressed himself quickly. he paused for a moment, his hand wrapping around his pulsing cock, pumping it a few times as he looked deep into your eyes, his gaze dark with possessiveness – and god, you swore he belonged in an art gallery only for your viewing.
without warning, he guided himself to your entrance and slid in in one deep, powerful thrust. the air left your lungs in a sharp gaps against his lips as he filled you completely.
but this wasn’t like the night on the couch. this was sweet, slow and deep–a rhythm that both of your bodies needed tonight. the room was filled with the harmony of your shared moans and whines. mark moved with a deliberate pace, each thrust rubbing that sensitive spot inside, his eyes never leaving yours.
as the tension built, you reached out with your left hand, finding his right, and slotting your fingers through his, locking your palms together. mark’s gaze drops to where your fingers entwined, staring at the ring – the shimmering symbol that you were truly his, and that he was yours, forever.
the sight of it seemed to trigger something in him. he lifts one of your legs up higher before his rhythm shifted – more urgent, more demanding – driving into with you a raw intensity, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“you’re mine,” he whispered, “my wife. my everything.”
his words were your undoing. the pressure in your core exploded as you moaned his name, body tightening around him, pulling him deeper, pushing mark over his own edge. he lets out a primal grunt, his muscles locking as he filled you with his warmth, pouring everything he had into you.
💎 FREE. 💎
you never had a dream wedding. you didn’t care for the date or the bouquet or the theme that planners had spent months perfecting. you didn’t even care about your wedding dress.
the only detail that mattered, the only thing that kept your heart beating – is the man at the end of the aisle.
he was the only dream you’ve ever had. a dream you thought would never come true.
the first chords of the piano drifted through the air, a beautiful melody that signaled your entrance. the sound pulled you out of your thoughts and into the present.
“father,” you said, your voice steady as you gave a respectful bow.
it was only natural that he would walk you down the aisle – he had an image to maintain, a legacy of the perfect family to project to the influential vultures gathered in the room. but as you looked up, you froze.
for the first time in twenty-six years, the ice in his gaze had thawed. he looked at you with a softness that felt alien, an expression of tenderness you didn’t think he was capable of feeling.
“you look like your mother,” he whispers, his voice sill carrying that stern, authoritative edge, but it was accompanied by something fragile, “-beautiful,” he added.
you gave him a small, tentative smile. that single sentence couldn’t erase the pain, the silence or the years of emotional damage, but in that moment, the acknowledgement felt like a bridge. it affected you more than it should have, a tiny spark of healing in a wasteland of trauma.
“thank you.”
he extended his hand then, and as you looped your arm through his, the towering double doors finally swung open. the venue was a sea of opulence. hundreds of strangers, flashing cameras of reporters, the zhong family, tha na’s, the park’s – the people of the social hierarchy you had spent your life navigating. they were all there, a blur of expensive perfume and calculated smiles.
mark lee felt as if he was witnessing a miracle. after the years of silence, the agony of your disappearance, and the desperate uncertainty of your reunion, he had almost conceived himself this was all just one big hallucination.
but there you were – ethereal, radiant, and walking toward him with a gaze that promised he would never have to lose you again.
he tried to maintain his composure, to be the poised man the world knew, but as you drew closer – a single tear escaped, rolling down his cheek. he didn’t even bother wiping it away. he let it fall, a silent testament to the depth of his love.
the ceremony was a blur of tradition and formality but it felt beautiful for one reason only – you were marrying the man you love.
while the officiant spoke of love and commitment, your hands were locked together, fingers squeezing tight. you had insisted that the vows be private, refusing to perform your most intimate truths for an audience of people who only knew the masks you wore. you wanted your promises to be a secret shared between two souls, a sacred pact that belonged to no one else.
when the moment finally arrived, the air seemed to vibrate.
“i do,” you whispered, the words feeling like a liberation.
“i do,” mark replied, his voice thick with emotion, as if he were claiming his entire world in two words.
as the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, mark didn’t hesitate – he pulled you in, his shaking hand cupping your jaw softly and crashed his lips onto yours.
a kiss of desperation, of victory, and a promise of unconditional love.
the crowd erupted in cheers, the applause thundering through the venue, but the sound was distant. all you could feel was him and the crushing happiness in your chest – a feeling so intense it almost hurt. for the frist time in your life, you weren’t an heiress, a daughter or a corporate assets.
you were simply home.
and you were finally free.
💎 A NEW CHAPTER. 💎
“what are you thinking about?”
mark’s voice was soft against the darkness, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your hip as he noticed your eyes were somewhere far away.
four years into marriage and your late night talks were still standing strong. still in the penthouse. people often wondered why the two of you never moved into a mansion. with your wealth, you could have owned entire neighborhoods if you wanted to. but neither of you ever found a reason to leave yet. the penthouse was more than enough for only the two of you.
“i think i’m ready,” you finally say, meeting his gaze.
mark’s hand pauses, his eyes, always observant, immediately sparkling, “love.”
the nickname is more mature now. somewhere along the way, baby started sounding too baby-ish.
“ready for what?” he asks softly even though he already knows. nobody knew you better than him. he just wanted to hear it.
a smile appeared on your lips as you leaned in, “let’s have a baby, director.”
the past four years have been a period of adjustment.
after the wedding, your father gradually stepped away from azur, leaving the empire to the two of you. and together, you made it greater than ever. people often joked that putting two terrifying geniuses in charge of one company should’ve been illegal, your combined intellect was a force of nature that left competitors scrambling in your wake.
and while helping you lead azur – mark, with his continued love for his work, also started his own company, pursuing a passion that spoke to the very core of his integrity. he had dedicated his company to making scientifically proven, high-grade vitamins and supplements accessible to every family, regardless of income.
the critics had been vicious at first, mocking him behind closed doors and saying things like, “he’s married into one of the richest families in asia and he’s spending his time on affordable healthcare? what a waste of a mind.”
mark had always responded with that same, effortless shroud, a confident glint in his eyes. “i spent eight years making products rich people don’t need,” he would tell them, his voice calm and unwavering, “i’d rather spend the next forty making products all families do.”
the laughter had died out quickly, replaced by profound respect. the world stopped mocking him and started listening. they began to call him “the people’s scientist,” a title that made your heart swell with so much pride.
every time you saw him on a magazine cover or heard him speak at a conference, you fell for him all over again – not for the prestige, but for the man who refused to let this world harden his heart.
these last four years had belonged entirely to the two of you – it has been a season of loving, of learning the messy parts of each other’s personalities, and the sweetness of quiet mornings. there has been the first real fights, too. mark was always the first to give in, not because he was weak, but because he couldn’t stand seeing you so upset.
and due to the sheer momentum of your careers and the time spent with each other – children had never been a priority. you had ignored the relentless prying of the media, the pointed questions from your father and even mom lee’s playful threats to simply adopt grandchildren herself. it was more a “if it happens, it happens,” kind of thing.
and strangely enough, the universe seemed content to let you bask in each other’s undivided attention. there had only been one pregnancy scare last year which turned out to be a stomach bug. but you still remembered the look in your husband’s eyes – pure joy. you knew then that mark had been ready, he was simply waiting for you.
“y-you’re serious?!”
the smile breaking across his face was so radiant, it felt like the sun had risen inside the bedroom. he looked younger when he smiled like that. like the boy who bought you ramen. the boy who promised you a ring. the boy who taught you what home felt like.
you nodded, “one hundred percent.”
he looked downright giddy, his cheeks flushing as his smile widened. before you could say another word, he was hovering over you, peppering your face with kisses, your shared laughter ringing in the room.
for a fleeting second, the years collapsed – you’re twenty-one again, tucked away in his childhood bedroom, looking at a marker drawn ring on your finger and listening to him promise you forever.
except now – you’ve lived the forever. and it has been beautiful.
mark pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark with a mixture of love and sudden, sharp desire. he smiled softly, his voice dropping an octave–
“can we start trying now?”
you giggled against his lips, your hands sliding down to grip his waist, pulling him flush against you.
“i was hoping you’d say that,” you teased, before pulling him down to seal the promise with a kiss that tasted like a new chapter.
💎 THE CHRISTMAS GIFT. 💎
it wasn’t long after that conversation when you got pregnant.
mark, ever the scientist, approached the prospect of fatherhood with the same meticulous devotion he gave to his research – researching everything – the best positions for conception, the nutritional supplements to support your health, even tracking your ovulation cycle that somehow felt like the most intimate form of foreplay. he made it a game, a secret shared between your bodies, making sure the process never felt like a chore.
honestly, the whole process had been almost too easy. it felt as though the universe had finally stopped testing you, finally treating you with a kindness that felt like a warm embrace.
it’s christmas eve now and the air in the kitchen of your new mansion was thick with the scnet of chocolate, melted butter and vanilla. you were leaning against the marble countertop, your breath coming a little shorter than usual, very much pregnant and glowing in the soft light. you were baking cookies with your favorite person in the world – mark’s mom (sorry mark).
the transition from the penthouse to the new mansion had been a mutual decision the moment the pregnancy test turned positive. as much as you loved your glass sanctuary in the sky, neither of you wanted to navigate elevators and lobbies with a stroller and a new infant. you needed space – gardens for the baby to run in, a nursery filled with sunlight.
christmas had become your sacred tradition ever since the wedding. you smiled, remembering the first year – the chaotic energy of you and mark struggling with a a tangled mess of lights, laughing until you cried as you accidentally draped the ornaments over each other instead of the tree. it had been a disaster then. but now, the two of you were experts, though mark had taken over the heavy lifting this year, considering you were in your ninth month, barely able to see your own toes and moving with a slow, careful waddle.
the baby was due any day now. you and mark had made a pact to keep the gender a secret – the suspense was a gift you wanted to open in the delivery room. whether it was a daughter with your eyes or a son with mark’s smile, it didn't matter.
from the living room, the muffled sounds of the lee men drifted in as they watched a rerun of a basketball game. their cheers and occasional boisterous booing echoed through the halls, a soundtrack of energy that made you giggle softly to yourself.
your father had stopped by earlier too. the man who had once been the architect of your misery had evolved, slowly. he had arrived with a lavishly wrapped gift for his soon-to-be grandchild, his expression softened by a rare, fragile kind of hope. you knew, deep down, that a part of his affection was tied to the idea of a legacy – the desire for a grandson to carry the name and the empire. but for the first time in your life, you didn't let that thought get to you.
you were the one in control now. you were the one holding the future inside you.
but the future decided it was tired of waiting.
a sharp, sudden inhale hitched in your throat as a contraction ripped through your abdomen, far more intense than the dull aches that had been simmering all day. for hours, they had been mere whispers – gentle reminders that the baby was getting ready. but this was different. this was a roar.
“oh—god,” you moaned, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the marble counter. the world seemed to tilt for a second, and then came the unmistakable, warm rush of fluid – your water had broken, trickling down your leg and pooling on the kitchen floor.
mark’s mother, who had been humming a holiday tune while sliding the cookie trays into the oven, spun around. her eyes dropped to the floor and then snapped back to your face. despite the suddenness, she remained the anchor in the storm, rushing to your side to wrap a supportive arm around your shoulders.
“oh, dear,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of maternal calm and bubbling excitement.
panic seized you. you had read the books, watched the videos, and listened to the doctors, but nothing could have prepared you for the raw, visceral reality of the moment.
“mark!” his mother’s voice rang out, cutting through the sounds of the basketball game in the other room, “it’s happening!” the shout was loud enough to stop the living room in its tracks.
she looked back at you, her eyes shimmering with a joy that was contagious, “it’s happening, sweetheart. your little one is coming.”
a small, breathless laugh escaped you, a strange mixture of terror and exhilaration, even as another wave of pain rolled over you, forcing a groan from your lips.
then came the whirlwind – mark practically ran into the kitchen, his socks sliding on the hardwood. his eyes were wide, mirroring your own panic, his expression a chaotic blend of i'm ready and i'm absolutely terrified.
“it’s happening!? now!?" he exclaimed, jogging toward you.
as you let out a sharp yelp of pain, his protective instincts kicked in instantly. he stepped into your space, his presence a familiar, grounding warmth.
“okay, okay, it’s happening! everyone stay calm. deep breaths, love,” he commanded, though his voice trembled slightly, and he was breathing almost as fast as you were.
he took your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. with a focused intensity, he guided you slowly toward the door, shouting for johnny to get the car ready. the bags – meticulously packed and checked three times by mark – were already in the trunk.
the ride to the hospital was a blur of mark’s soft voice reminding you to breathe and the rhythmic thumping of your heart.
your hospital suite was the pinnacle of luxury – soft linens, dimmable lights, and a silence that felt sacred. outside the heavy doors, the lee family and your father waited, a rare gathering united by a single, breathless anticipation.
the hours that followed were the hardest of your life, it seemed like your baby didn’t want to leave yet.
as the clock ticked closer to the end of christmas day, the pain reached a crescendo that felt insurmountable. you held mark’s hand with a strength that likely left bruises, tears streaming down your face, your voice raw from the effort.
through it all, mark was your strength. he stayed with you, whispering soft, desperate praises into your ear – “you’re so strong, love. just a little more. you got this. i love you so much.”
and then, in a final, agonizing surge of effort, the last hour of christmas day – the tension finally snapped – a sharp, piercing cry filled the room, a sound so beautiful it made it all worth it. the silence of the hospital room was shattered by the first breath of your child.
mark didn't look at your baby first. he looked at you. his face was wet with tears, his expression one of pure awe.
“you did so well, love,” he whispered, his voice cracking. he pressed a lingering, tender kiss to your temple, his hand trembling as he stroked your cheek. you closed your eyes, a wave of profound relief washing over you, squeezing his hand one last time to tell him that you were okay.
then, the nurses placed the tiny, warm bundle onto your chest. the moment the baby’s skin touched yours, the world ceased to exist. the pain, the exhaustion, the fear – it all evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming, crushing weight of love that felt too large for your heart to hold.
you looked down at the small face, the tiny fingers curling instinctively, the baby already had mark’s nose…so pretty.
then you looked up at your husband. he was staring at the baby, then at you, his eyes shimmering with a love so deep.
he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of salt and sweetness, a seal on the new life you had created together.
“thank you,” he murmured against your lips, the words a sacred vow, “i love you both so much.”
💎 THE END 💎
an: 🥹🥹🥹 and this is the endddddd! i want what they got so much but only if the guy is actually mark lee hehe…. they're so sickeningly in love it makes me want to throw up. i wonder how it feels to love someone this much. shoutout to miss olivia rodrigo for dropping yspsfagsil while i was writing this, it helped so much! anyways, i loved writing this story. it really felt like i was honoring mark in some way, i hope that was able to translate well <33 AND OF COURSE, OUR FUN LITTLE GAME!!!!!!! - CAN YOU GUESS THE BABY'S GENDER?! leave your guesses below! and let me know how you're feeling! thank you so so much for taking the time to read this <3333
p.s. the ring in this header is the ring mark got for her <3
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