hi i'm brooke! i'm 23 and located in australia <3
fic rec blog!! i reblog any fics or content that i enjoy!! i don’t take credit for any fics i reblog!! i just want to be a source where people can easily find fics and i want to hype up my favourites, if u preferred not to be reblogged or featured here then please don’t be afraid to dm me!! <3
fav groups: nct, kep1er, billlie, zb1, tbz, bnd, xikers & more!
fav animes: jjk!!, haikyuu, ohshc, tokyo revengers & more!
i ♡ college!au, frat!au and themes of jealousy lol
oh i also might reblog f1 related content…
feel free to send me a msg if you need to chat or send an ask if you have questions!! 🤎
i will also read any fics that you have seen that you think I might like as well :) 🤍
an: this is definitely longer than i had planned…oopsie? if you’ve been here for a while, you should know this is a concept i’ve been wanting to write for jisung :3 and i finally did it! have fun! <33 hey alexa play when did you get hot by sabrina carpenter and shoutout to rosé for her funny dating story — with love, c.
warnings: noona kink. down bad jisung. smut! fingering. sex while frozen plays in the background. jisung has a big dick! (you all should know that’s the only way i will ever write him)
synopsis [MUST READ]:
park jisung. synonym. dongsaeng. little brother. the same boy who debuted a year after you, wide-eyed and timid, singing about chewing gum and wobbling around on hoverboards.
in truth, he was only two years younger. practically nothing. but in south korea’s ridiculous age system, two years felt like five. enough to draw a line. enough to keep him safely, permanently filed away as just your dongsaeng. so when your friend, mark lee, bless his soul, invites you to the dream show 4, you didn’t think twice. you went expecting nostalgia, pride, maybe a fond smile at how much they’d grown. you never expected for the word noona to sound so dangerous, inviting, and utterly, unfairly…hot?
this wasn’t the jisung you remembered. this was someone taller, broader, shoulders filling out a stage like he’d always belonged there. his voice no longer cracked with youth. instead, it wrapped around the crowd with intention, confidence, hunger. and when his eyes found the camera — something shifted. almost like he was looking straight at you. inviting you. challenging you. those dark eyes focused and wicked.
sweet, innocent, cute jisung — your dongsaeng — was gone.
and park jisung. synonym. a man with purpose. is ready to win over his long-time crush. to prove, once and for all, that he was never just a little kid.
🎬
the bass is still pounding in your ears when you slip backstage. the hallway smells like sweat, metal and adrenaline. staff rush past with clipboards and water bottles, voices overlapping, laughter spilling loose now that another successful show is over.
the door to the dream’s waiting room is half open. inside, the boys are scattered — collapsed on couches, riding that euphoric post-concert high. mark is the first to notice you.
“bro, no way,” he grins, already pushing himself up, “you actually came!” there’s something a little too pleased in his grin as he pulls you into a hug.
“of course i came,” you say, “you practically guilt tripped me.” mark just hums, innocent in a way that absolutely is not. voices overlap — greetings, teasing, someone offering you a water bottle. and then—
“noona.”
it’s quiet. not shouted. not playful. just…said.
you turn and there he is — jisung. standing near the back, towel draped low around his neck, chest still rising from exertion. his stage outfit clings in a way that feels unfair, like its asking a question you don’t have a safe answer for. his hair is pushed back, exposing his forehead, his eyes darker than you remember.
you blink, disoriented. when did that happen?
he smiles when he sees you, soft, familiar, but there’s something else underneath it. something sharper. more aware. his gaze drags, unhurried, like he’s memorizing you.
“did you—” he stops, breath hitching for just a second, “did you like the show?”
“you were incredible,” you say, forcing a smile on your face, hoping the boys couldn’t hear your racing heartbeat.
“don’t you know,” haechan’s voice pops up, smug, “our little jisungie here is all grown up,” he teases, patting the maknae on the back. his words hang in the air, earning a few chuckles from the others.
jisung shoots him a glare, a flush creeping up his neck that he tries to hide by rubbing the towel over his damp hair.
“yeahhh,” jaemin chimes in, lounging against the arm of the couch with a mischievous glint in his eye, “he’s far from the boy who admitted he had a crush on you during that one interview,” he continues, eyes sparkling, looking around the room, “do you guys remember that? jisungie was soooo cute then,” he teases in his baby voice.
the boys all glance at each other, all recalling that time a couple of years ago when they were all asked about their “ideal types.” somehow, they tricked their youngest into giving a proper answer meanwhile they were naming people like stephen curry and justin bieber.
chenle smirks from his spot on the chair, “oh! i remember, ‘y/n sunbaenim is really really pretty,’” he mimics in a high-pitched voice, drawing out the words with exaggerated innocence that has renjun snickering beside him.
renjun nods enthusiastically, scrolling through his phone but glancing up with a grin, “and don’t forget how quiet he got every time we ran into each other in music shows. mark hyung had to snap him out of it more times than i can count,” he shoots mark a playful look, who’s trying, and failing, to keep a straight face.
mark laughs lightly but knowing, “hey, cut the kid some slack. crushes hit hard at that age,” he gives jisung a firm pat on the shoulder, the gesture supportive but his eyes flick to you with a subtle wink that speaks volumes.
jisung groans, burying his face in the towel for a second before peeking out, his cheeks still warm, “hyungs, seriously? can we not do this right now?” his voice is half-protest, half laughter, but when his gaze meets yours, there’s a spark there — defiant, almost challenging, like he’s daring you to add on to the teasing.
to figure out what happens if you do.
jeno saves him then, already heading toward the door, “alright, i think they’re calling us…for that…thing…we should go,” he says. talk about mr. captain obvious.
the group starts to move, gathering jackets and water bottles amidst murmurs of agreement. jaemin stands, stretching with a lazy grin, “great seeing you again. don’t be a stranger,” he nods at you before clapping jisung on the way out.
renjun and chenle follow, the older of the two tossing a soft, “take care” over his shoulder.
mark lingers for a moment, squeezing your arm gently, “thanks for coming, it means a lot.” then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind the last of them.
the room falls into a sudden, electric quiet, the distant hum of the backstage chaos muffled outside. you quip a brow, a smile growing on your face as you look at the boy who is now a couple feet taller than you.
“shouldn’t you go with them?”
“i’m sure they can manage a couple tiktoks without me,” he chuckles and you can’t help but notice how deep his voice actually is now.
“sorry about them,” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips, “they never let anything go.”
you chuckle, stepping closer, proving to him yourself that you were not affected by his drastic glow up.
“sooo…you didn’t have a crush on me?,” you say, clearly teasing him as your eyes sparkled with mischief.
and god, he doesn’t know what annoys him more — that damn interview or the fact that you still look at him like he was a boy.
“noona,” he warns, a quiet heat in his voice.
you continue stepping towards him, refusing to back down, “i remember that interview,” you say, standing closer now, as you grabbed the towel hung around his neck, “and the boys were right…you were just the cutest thing in the world!”
you bring the towel up to his hair, ignoring the fact that you were on your tippy toes to reach him.
jisung’s breath hitches, his body going still under your touch as you ruffled the towel through his damp strands. his eyes never leave yours — dark, intense, pinning you in place, shifting the air.
he easily towers over you, the heat radiating from his skin mixing with the faint scent of his sweat and cologne, something woodsy and sharp that makes your pulse quicken despite yourself.
then he reached up, his hand wrapping around your wrist, holding you there, firm enough to feel the strength in his fingers.
“cute?” he echoes, his voice dropping lower, rougher. the word comes out laced with challenge, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist in a slow, deliberate stroke that sends a jolt straight to you, “is that what you still think i am?”
you swallow, the playful tease in your chest twisting into something hotter, more urgent, as his grip tightens just a fraction. your fingers loosen on the towel, but you don’t step back, the proximity making your breasts brush against his chest with every shallow breath.
you want to reply, but it feels like the cat’s got your tongue, his stare pinning you in place, in a trance — all that’s left is the dark pools of his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the warmth of his touch on your wrist. words dissolve before they can escape, lost in the heat.
then he steps closer, impossibly close now, bringing his head down to your level, “noona,” his eyes flick down to your lips. once. twice. “you okay?”
he’s teasing you. his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, laced with quiet heat. his breath fans across your skin, warm and minty, sending shivers down your spine.
you can’t help but let your eyes dart down to his lips – full, slightly parted, glistening pink. they curve into a knowing smirk, his face inching closer and closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing, lips brushing the barest whisper against his, hearts pounding in unison, the pull magnetic and inevitable.
and then—
the door bursts open and his manager strides in, phone in hand, oblivious at first, “jisung-ah, we need to—oh.” the words trail off as he takes in the scenes, eyes widening.
you two spring apart quickly, the sudden separation like ripping velcro, your cheeks burning as you smooth down your shirt and step back toward the makeup table.
jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, his ears flushing red, “hyung, yeah—i’ll be right there,” he mutters, voice steadier than he looks, shooting you a quick, loaded glance, promise and frustration tangled in his gaze.
his manager heads out the door without another word, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway.
jisung turns his attention back you.
and in three quick steps…
one.
two.
three.
he’s in front of you again, closing the distance with a quiet determination that makes your breath catch. his hand rises gently to your jaw, fingers warm and steady against your skin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. those dark eyes hold yours for a beat, soft yet unwavering and before you could process what’s happening, he leans in and kisses you — sweetly, tenderly, hotly?
his lips brush yours with careful pressure that blooms into something deeper, mouth moving against yours in a slow, lingering exploration that tasted of cherry chapstick and a hint of mint.
you kiss back for only a fraction of a second, your body igniting under the sudden touch, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. but he pulls away just as abrupt, his hand lingering on your jaw for a moment longer before sliding away, leaving your lips tingling and swollen.
a small, genuine smile curve in the corners of his lips — adoration, satisfaction, confidence — like he’s finally won a round in this game.
but you can tell he’s shy from the way his ears flush bright pink, betraying the flutter beneath his composed exterior.
“thanks for coming to the show, noona,” he murmurs, voice low and sincere, his eyes still locked on yours with that quiet promise. then he’s gone, striding out the door without looking back, the click of it shutting echoing in the empty room.
you’re left there, bewildered, leaning against the makeup table for support as your heart races wildly in your chest, pounding like a drum. the ghost of his kiss lingers on your lips, hot and sweet, your pulse quickening with the certainty that this is far from over.
🎬
“—and he just kissed me,” you say, recalling the events of yesterday, your voice a mix of disbelief and lingering thrill.
you’re in the dance studio with xian, one of your group members, the mirrors reflecting your exhausted but energized forms as you ran through the brand new choreography for your upcoming group comeback. sweat beads on your forehead and your muscles ache from the intense practice, but your mind is elsewhere – replaying that backstage moment on a loop.
“WHAT?!” xian’s eyes widen like saucers, her ponytail swinging as she turned to face you, water bottle nearly slipping from her grip, “what do you mean he kissed you?!”
“i mean he put his lips on my lips and he kissed me,” you shrug, the words tumbling out.
“what the hell?! park jisung?? little jisungie who couldn’t even look you in the eyes last year?” she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, the rest of the group too busy chatting and stretching to pay attention.
“he’s not so little anymore…” you point out, still trying to comprehend it all — the memory of his large hand on your jaw, the way he tilted your head, fingertips on your pulse point — the kiss.
“he–he’s different now…he’s so….,” you trail off, biting your lip as you think of the right word to describe it.
“so….?” xian prompts, her eyebrows shooting up.
“hot?” you say finally, the voiced out admission slipping out with a flush creeping up your cheeks.
it’s true — jisung’s grown into a man. all lean muscle and quiet intensity. admitting it out loud makes your stomach flip, like butterflies turning into something hotter, more insistent
xian catches the shift in your expression and smirks, “isn’t their comeback next week too? we’ll probably be bumping into them all week,” she points out.
“and?” you shoot back, trying to sound casual even as your pulse quickens at the idea of seeing him again.
she arches a brow, her grin turning wicked, “and… what’re you gonna do about it? nothing? or are you gonna corner him in a hallway and show him who’s boss?”
the suggestion hits like a spark, igniting thoughts you hadn’t dared entertain. pretend it never happened? keep playing nonchalance? ghost him entirely and let the awkwardness fester? orrrr walk up to him, grab his collar, and steal back that kiss?
no. that’s insane. too risky. too real.
“no! of course not – are you out of your mind?” you blurt, heat rising to your face as you wave her off, “i’m just gonna let it slide. it’s probably nothing but that silly crush he’s had for ages…he needed to get it out of his system, that’s all.”
“sureee,” xian drawls, her tone dripping with skepticism as she bumps your shoulder playfully. you roll your eyes, but inside, doubt swirls like the beat of the next track starting up. the rest of the group calls you back to formation and you try to push all thoughts of jisung aside.
🎬
“fuck—,” you moan into his mouth, the word slipping out hot and desperate, earning a literal whine as his response, tongue moving in rhythm with yours, tasting you with a hunger that makes your head spin.
you were a huge. fat. liar.
doing “nothing” about it was completely thrown out the window the second you spotted him across the backstage halls. that tight black shirt molding to his lean torso like it was painted on, the subtle ripple of abs underneath pulling your gaze, the veins running down his arms. and god, those biceps — he had you hooked.
a double take became a triple until he caught you staring. his dark eyes met yours, sharp and heated, a faint flush creeping up his neck that only made him look more irresistible.
and now you were here — squeezed into this dim closet, tucked away from the bustle of the venue, shelves of old scripts and tangled cables pressing in. the door clicked shut and you were on him in an instant, your back hitting the wall as he crowds close, body pinning yours.
your fingers tangle in the nape of his neck, careful not to mess up his hair too much, tugging him down as you took back what he stole — kissing him hard, all teeth and tongue, swallowing his soft whimpers like they’re yours to claim.
“noona,” he breathes against your lips, voice cracking with need as his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer, close enough so you could feel the outline in his pants.
“i—i’ve dreamt about this for so long. years. every time i saw you, i’d imagine…fuck, kissing you like this, touching you…please, please let me touch you,” his confession spills out in a rush, almost pathetic, his cheeks burning red even in the low light, ears flushed pink like the shy maknae he used to be.
the desperation, the begging, the wide eyes and flushed lips — it all just lights a fire in you. knowing he’s wanted you this badly, dreamed of you while you barely noticed, it fuels you.
you kiss him harder, savoring the way he melts into it, his mouth pliant and eager under yours.
“how about turning that dream into reality?” you murmur, nipping his bottom lip, your hand cupping his jaw to tilt his head just right, a smirk curling on your lips as you pull away for a second.
now — jisung was never religious. but in this moment, he looks like he’s just been handed the keys to his own personal heaven.
his eyes widen, breath hitching as he nods frantically, that boyish awe softening the edges of his hunger, “yes—please, please…i want to make you feel good,” he whispers, voice thick with reverence, like touching you is a privilege he’s been training his whole life for.
you guide his hand down, sliding it under the hem of your skirt, your thighs parting just enough to invite him in. his fingers brush your skin, tracing upward to the waistband of your tight safety shorts beneath.
he hesitates for a beat, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. you nod, urging him on with a soft press of your hand over his. jisung slides his hand in until he reaches your panties, slipping beneath that lace too. his fingertips graze your slick folds, a soft gasp escaping you at the first contact. your tight shorts keeping his fingers closer, adding to the pressure.
you pull him back into the kiss, lips sealing over his to muffle the sound. he responds hungrily, tongue delving deep as his finger presses along your slit, the heat of his mouth mirroring the building warmth below. you rock against his hand instinctively, needing more, while the kiss turned sloppy and urgent, breaths mingling in hot pants between licks and sucks.
“like this?” he murmurs into your mouth, voice barely above a whisper as he pushes one finger inside your pussy with a careful thrust. the intrusion is slick and welcoming, your walls clenching around him as you nod against his lips.
“just like that, jisungie,” you breathe, the pet name slipping out soft and affectionate. his free hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek while his mouth claims yours again, the kiss deepening with every slide of his finger.
he groans quietly at the feel of you griping him, so wet and tight, “you feel so good, noona.” then he’s back, kissing you fercely, his finger fucking you deeper, curling to hit that spot that mkes your hips buck.
your body starts to respond more intensely, soft moans bubbling up from your throat, you feel yourself unraveling, turning pliant under his hand, knees weakening as the pleasure continued to build.
jisung notices it immediately — the way your breaths hitch sharper, your lips no longer catching up with his, your body melting against the wall, those quiet sounds escaping despite your efforts. it sparks something in him, confidence blooming in his eyes. his thrusts grow surer, fingers pressing deeper with purpose and he pulls back just enough to watch your face, drinking in every flicker of you losing control.
“oh god,” you gasp, the word barely out before another moan slips free, soft and needy. you have to bite down hard on your lower lip to stifle the next one, your head tipping back against the wall as your pussy clenches around his fingers.
god, the sight of you like this — putty in his hands, fighting to stay quiet — it was a dream come true.
but he’s greedy. and he wants to hear more, to coax every stifled sound from you in this cramped space where footsteps echo past the door every few seconds, voice murmuring in the hall.
he adds a second finger without asking, stretching you fuller, making your hips jerk as he pumps quicker, thumb circling your clit in firm, quick strokes. his mouth finds your neck instead, lips brushing against your skin, trailing kisses down the column of your throat, his ear attuned to the way your moans try to break free — muffled whimpers that vibrate against his tongue as he sucks lightly at your pulse point, nipping just enough to draw another gasp.
“jisung—ah,” you whisper-moan, the sound ragged and desperate, your hand fisting in his shirt, desperately trying to stay grounded as you bite your lip again, teeth sinking into trap the louder cry building in your chest.
people are right outside, the risk sharpening every sensation, but he doesn’t stop, encouraged by how you’re falling apart for him, your body trembling, walls fluttering tighter around his fingers.
“i love hearing you, noona,” he hums against your neck, voice low and round with his own arousal, fingers continuing to curl just right, driving you relentlessly toward the edge. another moan escapes, softer this time but no less intoxicating to him.
the coil snaps hard and fast — your pussy spasming around his fingers as you come undone, a choked cry muffled by your bitten lip, head thrown back, eyes shut in bliss, while waves of pleasure crash through you.
jisung holds you through it, his free hand gripping your hip to steady you as your legs threaten to give, his fingers still moving to draw out every pulse, his ears catching each stifled aftershock moan like a secret just for him, his eyes taking a mental screenshot.
“fuck, noona—that’s…that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever seen,” he swears, voice hoarse and reverent, meeting your dazed eyes. he keeps his fingers buried deep a moment longer before easing them out slowly, your pussy clenching one last time around the retreating digits, slick trailing in glistening strings.
without another word, jisung brings his hand up, eyes locked on yours with a mix of mischief and raw hunger — he slides his fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling deliberately to lick every drop of your cum clean, sucking them with soft, needy hum that vibrates through the air.
your eyes widen in surprise, heat flooding your cheeks at the bold move — filthy and uncharacteristically daring from the boy who’s still got that flush on his ears.
”what?” he murmurs around his fingers, popping them free, a shy grin tugging at his lips as he sees your reaction, “i had to clean them somehow.”
a laugh bubbles out of you, light and breathless, cutting through the tension. it’s infectious, easing the urgency into something warmer and you reach for the front of his shirt, fisiting the fabric to yank him close. your lips crash into his once again, tasting yourself faintly on his tongue as you kiss him deep and slow.
“when did you get so hot, huh, park jisung?” you whisper against his mouth, the words deliberate — no pet name, no jisungie, just his full name like he’s a man now, not the kid you’ve always teased.
and it pulls him completely under your spell. his breath stutters, eyes going wide and glassy, that confident facade cracking as he unravels right there, “i-i could…do more…if you want,” he stammers, hands clutching at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
“yeah?” you tease softly, arching a brow as you smooth his shirt back down your thumb brushing his collarbone.
he nods quickly, frantically, the motion so eager it’s almost comical, his cheeks burning brighter. it’s cute. that boyish enthusiasm peeking through the heat, making your chest tighten with affection.
“i do…want that,” you affirm, voice dropping low and sure. the air between you crackles with promise.
“my place,” he blurts faster than you expect, the words tumbling out in a rush, ”come to mine tonight?”
you quirk a brow, smirking at the slip — half-invitation, half-demand.
“are you asking or are you telling me?”
he swallows hard, forcing that confidence back into place, jaw setting as he meets your gaze head-on, “i’m telling you, noona. come to mine tonight.”
a smile curve your lips, genuine and approving, “the right choice. text me your address,” you instruct, leaning in for one final kiss, soft, lingering, a seal on the deal.
then you slip away, cracking the door just enough to peek out before darting into the hallway, heart pounding like you’ve just run a marathon, the ache between your thighs a lingering thrill.
xian’s lounging against the wall nearby, scrolling on her phone, but her head snaps up the second you emerge. her eyes narrow playfully, scanning your flushed face and slightly mussed hair, before she flashes a knowing thumbs-up, lips twitching in a suppressed grin.
you mouth a quick “shut up,” playing it cool, smoothing your expression into casual nonchalance. she just chuckles silently, falling into step beside you as you both weave through the backstage chaos toward the stage entrance for the ending segment.
the mc’s voice booms over the speakers, calling out the nominated artists for the week. you stand shoulder to shoulder with your group members, lights blinding as the cameras pan slowly, capturing every polished smile and wave, the sea of lightsticks waving in synchronized frenzy below.
jisung is a few people away, flanked by his members, his posture straight and idol-perfect, that practiced smile plastered on as he waves to fans with the same hand that was inside you just minutes ago.
you catch it — the subtle flick of his eyes toward you, that idol smile turning into a smirk only you know the meaning of. a secret heat simmering beneath the professional facade.
the applause thunders on, spotlights dancing and to everyone who was watching — you two were nothing but perfect idols.
🎬
your heart races with a mix of nerves and mischief, the baggy floral pants swishing around your legs, paired with a crisp white long-sleeve and topped by a sensible vest that screams ahjumma. you’d gone all out. even adding a curly wig and a sturdy handbag dangling from your shoulder like you’re off to the market.
as idols, relationships are “off-limits.” you just have to be good enough to hide it. and this get-up ensures just that. no prying eyes from fans, no suspicious glances, no whispered rumors.
you ring the doorbell. footsteps hurry closer and it creaks open. jisung’s there in gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black shirt that clings to his lean chest, fresh from a shower with damp hair.
his eyes widen, gaze sweeping over you, from the vest to the ridiculous colorful pants, and he bursts out laughing, bending at the waist as if you just told him the funniest joke ever.
“noona,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach, “i’m into older women…but not this old,” his face is flushed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he straightens up just enough to let you inside.
you enter his place, kicking off your flats with a grin, the cool apartment air hitting your skin.
“what? is this not doing it for you?” you tease, adjusting the wig with exaggerated flair and striking a pose, hands on hips like a scolding elder, “not activating your ahjumma kink?”
that sets him off again, his laughter booming as he leans against his shut door, “oh my god, noona stop— it’s too much.”
you match his laugh, reaching up to yank the wig free in one swift motion, tossing it at him like a playful challenge. it lands in his hands, the curly mess dangling from his fingers as your real hair tumbles down, framing your face perfectly.
his chuckles die out instantly, the sound fading into a sharp intake of breath. the air thickens charged with something heavier and he pushes off the door, closing the distance between you in two strides. his free hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw as he stares, eyes dark and intense.
“i can’t believe you’re actually here,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, the words laced with awe and hunger.
your hand slides up his arm and you tilt your head to meet his gaze, “hmm and now that you got me here, what do you suppose we do?” the teasing edge lingers in your tone, soft, inviting, as you lean in to brush your lips against his.
he smirks against your lips, before pulling away slightly, “we could watch a movie?”
“that’s it?”
“and we could make out a little,” he says, his hand dropping from your jaw to your waist.
“just a little?”
“or a lot,” he says, pulling you closer, fingers flexing like he’s already forgotten his own suggestion about movies.
for a second, you think he’s going to abandon the idea entirely, his lips hovering just above yours, breath ghosting over your skin.
and then.
he pulls back. clearing his throat like he needs to reset his brain, “c’mon, let’s watch that movie.”
there’s no way.
there’s actually no way you’ve gone through all of this to watch a movie.
but before you can protest, he takes your hand and leads you deeper into his apartment. you toss your handbag on the floor, following him into his living room. the t.v. is already on as he unpauses it. bright snow. dramatic orchestral music. you stare at the screen.
“is this–”
“don’t judge me,” he says quickly, dropping onto the couch, “it’s a classic.”
anna and elsa appear mid-argument, voices echoing through the speakers.
there’s no way he was going to fuck you while frozen plays in the background…right?
you turn slowly to look at him. he’s already settled in, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, looking absurdly domestic. comfortable. like this was the plan all along. you slowly sit beside him, hyperaware of everything — the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of his shampoo, the way his fingers absentmindedly tap against the couch cushion near your shoulder.
on screen, anna is dramatically belting something about love. your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason. you sneak a glance at him. he’s watching intently. actually watching. eyes focused. brows slightly knit. fully invested in the animation.
you narrow your eyes.
what kind of sick foreplay is this?
you are so insanely turned on right now. the memory of his fingers curling inside you replaying in your mind. and he’s just sitting there. calm. composed. watching.
is he serious?!?
you shift slightly, letting your knee brush his thigh. nothing. he doesn’t even look at you.
“wow,” he mutters, softly at the screen, “that song is so good.”
you stare at him.
you lean back, pretending to get comfortable, but really you’re eyeing him from the corner of your eye. the curve of his jaw. the way his lips part when he concentrates. the faint rise and fall of his chest. he senses it. without turning his head, he smirks.
“you’re staring.”
“i’m not.”
“you are,” he says calmly, still looking at the tv, “you’ve been starting at me for the past 45 seconds.”
your face heats. he was counting?
his arm slides down from the back of the couch to rest behind you, fingers grazing your shoulder lightly. barely there. it’s subtle. too subtle. your pulse jumps anyway.
“you’re evil,” you whisper.
“for watching a movie?”
“for pretending you’re not aware of what you’re doing.”
on screen, anna dramatically falls into han’s arms.
jisung leans closer to you, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, “i’m very aware.” your breath catches.
“but,” he continues, “i also really like this part.”
you gape at him. he laughs softly, the sound low and teasing, before finally giving in just a little. his hand slides from your shoulder to your waist, thumb drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your shirt.
“i’ve waited years for this noona…i don’t want it to be over just yet,” he says quietly.
your eyes narrow, “are you implying that this is a one-time thing?”
he turns to look at you then.
finally.
“is it not? just noona granting her poor little dongsaeng’s pathetic wishes?”
the words hang between you, laced with that familiar mix of playfulness and something deeper, more vulnerable.
his eyes search yours, the t.v.’s glow casting flickering shadows across his face, making the moment feel even more intimate in the dim room.
you shift closer, “pathetic wishes?” you echo, voice low, eyebrows furrowed, “do you really think i would’ve gone through all that effort to be here if i didn’t want you?”
his hand at your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his side, “yeah?” he murmurs, his free hand capturing yours, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss against your knuckles. it’s sweet, almost boyish, but the heat in his gaze tells you he's anything but innocent.
“then tell me, noona. what do you want this to be?” the air thickens, charged with the unspoken promise of more.
you lean in, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “not a one-time thing. not if you keep looking at me like that.”
his ears flush pink, that telltale sign of his shyness peeking through the confidence he's built, and it only makes you bolder. you nip at his earlobe, feeling him shiver, his arm wrapping fully around you now, hand splaying across your lower back.
the movie drones on — kristoff and anna's banter filling the speakers — but jisung can no longer pretend to care.
he turns his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss, slower, deep, his tongue sliding against yours with deliberate strokes. you melt into it, your body arching toward him. his hand ventures lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the skin of your stomach.
“fuck this movie,” you breathe against his lips when you break for air, the words spilling out rough and demanding.
no more teasing, no more waiting.
you swing a leg over his lap in one fluid motion, straddling him fully, your knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his hips. his hands instinctively grip your thighs, but you grab his chin, tilting his face up to meet your eyes.
“eyes on me, jisung. only me.”
he swallows hard, pupils blown wide, but he nods, gaze locked on yours as you crash your mouth back to his. the kiss is messy this time, urgent — teeth clashing, tongues tangling, your fingers threading through his hair to pull him closer.
he groans into it, the vibration rumbling through your chest, his hips bucking up slightly to press his hardness against your core through the layers of fabric. you rock against him once, twice, savoring the friction, but you want more. control surges through you, hot and heady, as you dominate the rhythm of the kiss, nipping his lower lip until he whimpers softly.
his hands roam up your sides, fumbling with the buttons of your vest in haste. he shrugs it off your shoulders, letting it slide to the floor with a soft thud. you break the kiss just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, leaving you in the white lacy bra you'd chosen specifically for this — for him. the delicate fabric clings to your curves, sheer enough to tease the outline of your nipples, already pebbled from his earlier touches.
jisung's breath stutters, his eyes raking over you like he's memorizing every inch.
“god, you're beautiful,” he rasps, voice thick with awe, before his mouth descends.
he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck, sucking lightly at the pulse point, making you gasp, then trails lower to your collarbone, licking and nipping the sensitive skin there.
his hand slide up fingers hooking into the bra's cups, tugging them down without unhooking the straps. the lace bunches under your breasts, exposing them fully to the cool air of the room — and to him.
he doesn't hesitate, leaning in to capture one nipple between his lips, sucking hard while his tongue flicks over the peak. you arch into it, a sharp moan escaping as pleasure shoots straight to your pussy, making you clench around nothing.
he switches sides, lavishing the other tit with the same attention — suck, swirl, graze with his teeth — drawing out your whines. your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging in as you grind down against his clothed cock, feeling it throb insistently through his sweatpants, the heat of him searing against your damp panties.
the friction isn't enough, you need to feel him, all of him. your fingers dip into the waistband of his sweats, shoving them down just enough to free his length. you wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing the thick base, and your eyes widen at the size — bigger than you'd imagined, hot and heavy in your palm, veins pulsing under your grip.
he bucks into your touch with a choked groan, his mouth popping off your breast to bury his face in your neck, panting hot breaths against your skin.
“fuck,” he whimpers, hips jerking as you stroke him slowly, thumb swiping over the slick tip.
he thrusts up into your hand, desperate now, his control fraying under your command, “please,” he murmurs against your mouth, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, “—want you so bad. been dreaming of this.”
you quicken your strokes, twisting your wrist at the head, watching his face contort in ecstasy — eyes squeezed shut, lips parted on a silent moan.
but you tap his cheek lightly, reminding him, “eyes on me, remember?”
he forces them open, locking onto yours, the vulnerability there making your heart — and your pussy — clench.
“good boy,” you whisper, leaning in to suck a mark into his jaw.
the tension builds, his cock leaking pre-cum over your fingers, your body aching to take him inside, but you draw it out just a little longer, savoring the power, the way he trembles beneath you.
the outside world, the movie — none of it matters. just this, just him, unraveling under your touch.
jisung’s chest heaves as you continue to pump him up and down, his cock slick with pre-cum, fingers digging into your hips as he fights control. but the strain shows in the way his jaw clenches.
you lean down, capturing his mouth in another bruising kiss, swallowing his moans while you start grinding your soaked core against his thigh. his hands immediately slide to the waistband of your floral pants, tugging it down.
“off,” he mutters, voice rough and commanding, the shyness giving way to raw hunger. you lift your hips just enough for him to yank them down, the fabric pooling at your knees befre he shoves them aside completely.
his gaze drops to your panties — matching white lace, sheer and clinging to your folds, the material darkened with how wet you are. a low growl rumbles from his throat as he stares — you really did plan all this out, coming to him in a matching set.
he still couldn’t believe it.
“fuck, noona…you’re soaking for me,” his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider over his lap, thumbs brushing the edge of the lace. the sight undoes him — his cock twitching in your hand and he surges up, mouth latching onto your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, “so hot. can’t believe you’re here like this, all for me.”
his fingers hook into the sides of your panties and with a frustrated snarl, he rips them – the threads snapping as he tears the fabric apart.
cool air hits your exposed pussy, your slick folds bare and dripping onto his sweatpants. you gasp at the suddennes, the possessivness of it sending a fresh wave of heat through you, your clit pulisng with want.
“jisung–c-condom,” you say through breathy moans. his eyes flick to the side table drawer without pulling away from you, leaning over awkwardly with one arm still banded around your waist to keep you close, yanking the drawer open and snatching a foil. you watch, breath hitching as he tears it with his teeth, the latex unrolling down his thick shaft in quick, efficient strokes.
“and here i thought we really were just gonna watch frozen,” you tease, an amused smile on your lips.
jisung chuckles darkly, tossing the wrapper aside, “yeah, fuck that. i should’ve fucked you the moment you walked in the door,” he positions himself, dragging his head through your dripping slit, bumping your swollen clit, earning a light moan from you.
“bad jisung, making noona wait,” you retort, reaching down to line him at your entrance.
you don’t hesitate, sinking down slowly onto him. the stretch is immediate, intense — his cock splitting you open, walls stretching to accommodate every inch as you take him deeper.
“fuck, jisung–you’re so big,” you moan, the words spilling out as you bottomed out, your ass flush against his thighs, the fullness making your vision blur.
he groans, head falling back against the couch, hands clamping onto your waist like anchors. you start to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind at first, savoring the way he fills you completely, the drag of him against your walls sending sparks up your spine.
the movie is white noise now, drowned out by the wet sounds of your bodies connecting, your slick coating the latex as you ride him.
jisung’s eyes stay glued to where you’re joined, watching his length disappear into you over and over, his breaths coming in ragged pants. he thrusts up to meet you, the force jolting through you, but you set the pace, hands braced on his chest, nails digging into the firm muscle there.
sweat beads on his skin, his shirt clinging and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a messy kiss as you bounce harder. your clit grinds against his pelvis with each slide, pleasure coiling tight in your core, but the angle tires your thighs after a few minutes, your movements slowing just a fraction. he notices it immediately.
“i got you, noona,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice husky and laced with lust, “gonna make you feel good.”
he surges up, wrapping an arm around your back and flipping your positions in one fluid, powerful move. now you’re beneath him, legs splayed wide, his body caging yours as he settles between your thighs. the shift presses him even deeper, the new angle hitting that spot inside that makes you cry out, arching up to meet him.
he starts thrusting immediately, deep, measured strokes that have you seeing white, building that steady pressure in your core, his body pinning you down.
your fingers hook into the hem of his shirt, finally tugging it upward. he pauses mid-thrust, lifting his arms to help you yank it off over his head, revealing his bare chest.
your eyes drop immediately to his abs — defined ridges of muscle flexing with each breath. they’re sculpted, earned from endless hours of training and performance, and the sight hits you like a spark, making your pussy tighten around him involuntarily.
“when did you get these?” you murmur, voice breathy as you trail your nails down the planes of his stomach, feeling them contract under your touch. he fucks into you again, deep and slow, the motion making his abs tense further.
jisung smirks down at you, eyes hooded with lust, but there’s a playful glint there too, “always had them, you just weren’t looking,” he teases, his voice low and rough, punctuating the words with another measured thrust that has you gasping.
you roll your eyes at his cockiness, hooking a hand around his neck to pull him down, whispering “faster,” before crashing your lips onto his for another heated kiss.
he doesn’t hesitate, adjusting his grip on your hips and picking up the pace, his thrusts turning sharper, harder, slamming into you with a rhythm that rocks the couch beneath you, the friction intense, hitting deeper with every forceful drive.
jisung pulls back from the kiss after a moment, his focus shifting entirely to the motion of his hips, breaths coming in hot pants against your ear. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as soft whines escape him — high and needy, mixing with deeper grunts each time he bottoms out.
“fuck, noona….so good,” he whimpers, voice cracking with the effort to hold back, his body trembling slightly above you. sweat drips from his brow onto your collarbone and you can feel the strain in him, the way his muscles lock as he fights his release, determined to push you over the edge first.
every thrust targets your pleasure, his hips angling just right to drag over your g-spot, the head of his cock nudging it relentlessly. your legs wrap tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back to urge him on, and the coil in your core winds impossibly tighter, heat building to a fever pitch.
jisung's whines grow more desperate by your ear, a mix of “please...cum for me” and breathless grunts.
his determination is clear — he wants to prove it, show you he's no longer the shy kid, but a man who can take care of you, make you shatter around him before he lets go.
your walls clench around him tighter, the slick heat building to an unbearable peak as his pace quickens even more, balls slapping against your ass with every forceful entry.
he leans in close, his mouth hot against your ear, breaths ragged and uneven, “c’mon noona... let go,” he murmurs between grunts, his voice strained with effort.
one hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm circles over the swollen nub, the added pressure pushing you right to the brink. your back arches off the couch, nails digging into his shoulders as the orgasm crashes over you, pussy fluttering wildly around his length, waves of ecstasy pulsing from your core outward. your juices flood his cock, soaking the condom and dripping down to the cushions below, thighs quivering from the intensity.
jisung groans deeply at the feel of you coming undone, his thrusts faltering for a split second as your tightness nearly undoes him. but he holds on, slowing just enough to ride out your climax, his fingers still teasing your clit lightly to draw it out longer.
“fuck, yes... so fucking hot,” he pants, watching your face contort in bliss, pride flashing in his eyes — he did it, made you shatter first.
as your tremors subside, leaving you boneless and gasping beneath him, jisung's restraint snaps. he picks up speed again, fucking into your oversensitive pussy with short, desperate strokes, chasing his own release, guttural moans escaping his lips, body tensing as he buries himself deep one last time. his cock throbs inside you, pulsing as he cums hard, filling the condom with hot spurts. he collapses forward slightly, forehead pressed to yours, hips jerking erratically until he's spent, a satisfied shudder running through him.
for a moment, you both stay like that, breaths mingling in the quiet room, the movie still playing in the background.
jisung lifts his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, but it's clear he's beaming inside — his eyes crinkling at the corners, that boyish glow he can't quite hide, even as he tries to play it cool.
you're his dream girl, after all.
and the way his chest rises and falls a little too quickly gives him away.
“that was better than anything i could imagine,” he says softly, voice hoarse, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.
“well, now you don’t have to imagine,” you say, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back as you hold his gaze, the warmth in your chest making your words come out steady and sincere, “i was serious, you know? i don’t want this to be a one-time thing… unless that’s what you want.”
jisung's eyes search yours, that familiar flicker of surprise and something deeper — maybe hope — lighting up his features. he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow while his other hand rests lightly on your hip, thumb stroking the skin there in slow, soothing motions.
he's trying so hard to act cooler, but the beaming smile tugs at his lips, his cheeks flushing just a bit as he fights to keep his excitement reined in.
“no,” he murmurs quickly, shaking his head as if the idea alone is ridiculous, “god, no. that's the last thing i want. i've been imagining this — us — for months. years. but hearing you say that...it makes it real.”
you smile, reaching up to tuck a damp strand of his hair behind his ear, your touch lingering as you pull him down for another kiss, this one deeper but still tender, tongues brushing lazily.
when you break apart, you whisper against his lips, “good. because i like you — like, really like you. so start believing it, okay?”
“i believe you,” he says, voice muffled but excited, almost shy, the beaming energy seeping through despite his efforts to tone it down.
he exhales a shaky laugh, burying his face in the curve of your neck for a second, his warm breath tickling your skin as he presses a series of soft kisses along your collarbone.
you tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye as your fingers trail up his arm, tracing the lean muscle there.
“now,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, laced with that warmth from before, “you want to show me what else you've imagined us doing?”
his reaction is instant — a smirk curls his mouth, slow and knowing, chasing away any remnants of shyness. those dark eyes heat up, locking onto yours with confidence.
without a word, he shifts, sliding his arms under you in one fluid motion, scooping you up bridal style like you weigh nothing. your legs dangle over his arm, and you can't help the surprised laugh that bubbles out as he stands, cradling you against his chest.
“bedroom,” he says simply, his voice a rough whisper against your ear, that smirk still playing on his lips
🎬
three days slips by in a blur of schedules and stolen texts — late-night messages that make you smile at your phone.
but today, the music show buzzes with energy, your group weaving through the backstage chaos, outfits sparkling under the lights. nct dream's here too, their laughter echoing from down the hall as you prepare for your silly mini segment with stray kids' bang chan.
it’s all lighthearted fun, the concept scripted — you batting your lashes, calling him “oppa” in that exaggerated, cute tone that has the crew chuckling.
chan plays along perfectly, his dimpled smile wide as he hands you a single red rose, the stem wrapped in ribbon.
“for a pretty girl,” he teases, voice warm and brotherly. you take it with a giggle, then link arms for the heart pose — your hands forming the shape together, faces close enough for the cameras to catch the playful spark.
back in nct dream’s dressing room, the t.v. flickers with the live feed, the boys sprawled on couches and chairs, half-watching between touch-ups and snacks.
jisung’s there, legs kicked out, but his posture stiffens the moment your face fills the screen. he watches you lean into chan, that soft oppa slipping from your lips like honey, and something sharp twists in his chest.
his jaw clenches, teeth grinding just enough to make the muscle jump, eyes narrowing into slits as chan passes the rose. the heart pose seals it — your smiles synced, bodies angled close — and jisung's fingers dig into the armrest, knuckles whitening.
chenle, scrolling on his phone beside him, catches the shift immediately. he snickers, nudging jisung's shoulder with his elbow, “make it more obvious, won't you?”
jisung doesn't even glance away from the screen, his gaze locked on you as the segment ends, “i don't know how you do this,” he mutters, voice low and edged with frustration, finally turning to chenle.
chenle’s eyebrows raised in mock innocence, “do what?”
“date an actress,” jisung shoots back, running a hand through his hair, “i’m literally gonna crash out and it’s just a segment.”
chenle bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking as he claps jisung on the back. he shrugs, nonchalant and grinning wide, “i'm just cooler and more mature than you, jisungie.”
🎬
the show pulses on, a relentless rhythm of spotlights and applause, the corridors buzz with hurried footsteps and muffled chatter, but you navigate them with purpose, heart racing from the high and the unresolved pull toward jisung.
he’s been a ghost all day, avoiding your gaze like it's a spotlight he can't afford.
from the corner, your fingers brush his wrist, light but insistent, pulling him quickly into the familiar dim closet without a word.
the door snicks shut, sealing out the world.
jisung's back meets the wall, his eyes snapping to yours, wide, caught off guard, “noona?” he says, voice a hushed rasp, surprise threading through the warmth.
“you haven't looked at me once this whole show,” you murmur, closing the gap until your bodies nearly touch. your voice dips lower, probing, “what's wrong?”
he shifts, gaze dropping to the scuffed floor, jaw clenching in that telltale way. the jealousy from the segment with chan simmers beneath his skin, a sharp twist in his gut from watching you laugh and pose, but he shoves it down deep.
that's kid stuff. and he’s a man. a mature man.
“nothing... just being careful,” he murmurs, forcing a casual shrug.
you see the sulk anyway — the downturned lips, the furrowed brow, the way his shoulders hunch just a fraction. it’s endearing, pulling a soft smile from you as you step in closer, your palm flattening against his chest to feel the rapid thump of his heart.
“you’re cute when you lie.”
his eyes lift then, dark and conflicted, holding yours for a beat too long before he sighs, “i—i’m not lying—the cameras, the fans... everyone’s watching. don't want to cause trouble for us. that's all.”
it’s a half-truth, delivered with a shrug that doesn't quite land, his body betraying him as it leans into your touch.
“try again,” you tease gently, fingers sliding up to cup his jaw, tilting his face so he can't hide, “is it the segment? chan oppa?”
his breath catches, a flicker of admission in the way his eyes narrow, but he nods slowly, the mature mask slipping.
“kinda,” he confesses, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his hand settling at your waist, thumb on your bare skin, “stupid, i know. it’s a segment. but seeing you call him that, smile like... like that…”
he pulls you flush against him, the confession hanging heavy but freeing, “i don't want to be the jealous kid. but fuck, i hate sharing even a second of your attention.”
the closet feels smaller now, the world outside fading as you lean in, lips brushing his ear, “you’re not,” you murmur, feeling him shiver, “you're the one i pulled in here. the one I can't stop thinking about.”
the admission hangs between you, raw and real, and you close the distance, lips grazing his in a feather-light touch that ignites everything. he responds instantly, hands framing your face, deepening the kiss.
the urgency builds but so do the voices echoing down the hall — staff calling for the next lineup, footsteps approaching — and he breaks away with a frustrated groan, forehead resting against yours, breathing ragged and uneven.
his eyes, dark with want but sparkling with that boyish hope, search yours.
“come to mine again tonight?” he whispers quietly, voice laced with plea, his thumb stroking your cheek in soft, adoring circles.
you shake your head, a playful glint in your eye as you bite your lip, “no.”
“no?” he pulls back slightly, confusion flickering across his flushed face, brows knitting together in the most adorable pout, his lower lip jutting out.
“you come to mine,” you say with a smile, voice teasing and inviting, your hand sliding down his chest to rest over his racing heart.
“i'll wait for you….in your best ahjussi outfit,” you wink, eyes dripping with that knowing mischief.
he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest, a shy grin breaking through the sulk as he leans in closer, his ears turning an even brighter shade of pink.
“i’ll borrow a gray wig from the costume department,” he says, his voice light and playful, eyes crinkling, at the corners with pure delight, gummy smile and all.
you giggle, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, soft and lingering, both of you smiling into it before the outside world swallows you both back into reality.
summary: you are the bane of lord jeong’s existence and the object of all his desires.
genre: fluff, angst, smut
warnings: enemies to lovers trope (kind of), fuckboy!jaehyun, arranged marriage trope, jaehyun is down bad, pussy eating, fingering, loss of virginity
As the new social season approaches, your rising anxiety increases tenfold.
It has been four years since you were introduced to society, which is deemed far too long to be unwed for a lady like yourself. Your mother is nearly chewing her own arm off in anticipation of you finding a husband. She definitely would have married you off to the first gentleman caller by now, but luckily for you, your father refuses to tie you to another man unless you provide your stamp of approval. He possesses a soft spot for his only child that your mother never understood.
Unfortunately, the pool of suitors is extremely lacking, forcing you to pass by season after season with no husband in sight.
“Perhaps this year will be different,” Yerim coos. “They say Mrs. Kim’s son is particularly eye-catching.”
“He’s also a right bore,” you grumble, locking your arms together as you stroll into Mrs. Kim’s soirée. You’ve heard many tales of her son, Doyoung, and how he’s finally ready to settle down and take a wife. However, you also heard he is unwilling to sit for a conversation for more than an hour, and how his expectations for his wife are skyrocketing through the roof. “Maybe I shall just put him out of his misery and marry Lee Donghyuck.”
She struggles to conceal her laughter. “I would love to see that.”
The night carries on as expected, with you and Yerim spending your time near the wall while the other ladies dance around the floor. You deny multiple requests for your hand, conjuring up excuses of a strained ankle or an upset stomach.
It is not until the end of the night when you are confronted with your lie.
“A poor tummy, hm? Perhaps you should have stayed home in case you heave all over Mrs. Kim’s beautiful floor,” Jeong Jaehyun says as he approaches you.
You roll your eyes. “I imagine you find it quite hard to mind your own business, Lord Jeong. I would rather not be subject to hearing your grating voice if it is not deemed necessary.”
Out of all the gentlemen in the ton, Jeong Jaehyun is the one who has stooped low enough to classify himself as a proper rake. A man who preys on the hearts of women and lacks commitment — a rake is not a man that a lady would ever want to associate herself with. They do not take the concept of marriage seriously, and you shall likely find them in the bed of another woman before they grace your own.
Jaehyun smirks at you in the way he knows will dig underneath your skin. He has been out in society just as long as you have, and every year, he never fails to irritate you to no end.
“No luck for you tonight? Tell me, what could possibly be wrong with the wonderful men gracing this room? How have they wronged you so that you have denied every single one of them?”
You try to look for an escape, but Yerim has already made an early departure and the rest of the ladies refuse to mingle with you in fear of also being dubbed as a lonely spinster.
“I did not know you were paying attention to me so ardently,” you bite back, and this has Jaehyun’s ears blooming bright red. You smile in satisfaction.
“I-I was not doing anything of t-the sort,” he stutters. “It is simply hard not to notice when you are the only lady actively rejecting possible suitors. If you really want to drive them away, you should just open your mouth and talk to them. That shall have them running for the hills.”
You narrow your eyes and wonder how much of a scolding you shall receive from your mother if you threw your drink in his face. He guesses what you must be thinking, cupping his hand over your glass and handing it to a nearby staff member.
He continues, stepping closer into your personal space. “Soon enough, the only ones who will be left in this ballroom will be me and you.”
“I loathe the day,” you hiss. “It would personally be my worst nightmare.”
He winks at you. “Trust me, you shall not find a gentleman better than me.”
You hear someone clearing their throat and you both glance over to see Kim Doyoung standing in front of you. You immediately drop to a curtsy at his presence, and you hear Jaehyun scoff at the fact that you did not grant him the same etiquette.
“I hope I am not interrupting, Miss,” Doyoung says.
“Of course not, Lord Kim,” you reply. “Lord Jeong was just telling me how he plans to retire early for the night.”
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at you and you return his bewildered expression with a heated glare. You would be very content if he made himself useful somewhere else, likely with his hands underneath another maiden’s dress.
“Yes, it seems I have another obligation to head to for the night,” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth, displeased by your dismissal of him. “I shall thank your mother for being a spectacular host before my leave, Lord Kim.”
Doyoung nods once. “It would be much appreciated. Thank you, Lord Jeong.”
Jaehyun departs with one more scathing look thrown your way. You grin to yourself, happy to be rid of his presence, until Doyoung starts speaking and ruins your night.
“I have heard from your mother that you are in search of a husband. I find myself in a similar boat, and I would much enjoy it if you were to accept my offer for tea tomorrow afternoon.”
You could say no. It would not be hard to make up another excuse, but your mother would be absolutely livid to discover you have turned down an offer from Doyoung, especially after she practically handed him to you on a silver platter.
One afternoon of tea shall not kill you.
“That sounds lovely. I look forward to our discussion.”
When you turn to beeline for the exit, you catch a pair of eyes peering over at you, and you swear you see a flash of Jaehyun’s hair before he disappears into the crowd.
Hm. You must be seeing things.
—
Your mother acts as if afternoon tea with Doyoung equates to an audience with the king.
She dresses you in a gown she brings out for special occasions and has your handmaidens spray perfume on you until you are drowning in the floral scent. When she accompanies you to the tea parlor, she lists out your annoying habits that you should try to avoid.
You were not made aware that you possessed so many.
“And the way you look at him, darling, it is extremely unflattering. He can tell you hate him by the way you desire to burn him alive with your gaze. Stare at him with conviction. Make his loins stir from one simple glance at you.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Mother, I shall say that I find this advice to be highly unhelpful.”
She growls at you. “You are nearly four and twenty without a single acceptance for a suitor’s hand in marriage. You shall adhere to any advice I am willing to offer you.”
Doyoung helps take out your chair like a gentleman, and you thank him while your mother sits one table behind you, eavesdropping on your conversation.
He cuts straight to the chase. “What traits do you envision for your future husband to possess?”
Your grip tightens around your teacup. You wonder what to say to ward him off, to get him to move onto the next lady.
“A man who will let me maintain my own hobbies and interests. I want to have children on my own time, not on the timeline my husband sets for me,” you answer, knowing that it is not the typical response a lady of your breeding is supposed to say. You are supposed to submit to your husband’s preferences instead of prioritizing your own. “I ask that he respects my wishes and swears his loyalty to me. I will not, in any circumstances, marry a rake.”
“This one is all bark and no bite, Doyoung. I would not take her threats to heart.”
You clench your jaw when Jaehyun approaches your table with a wide smirk on his face. He appears to be dressed for tea as well, but you see no partner by his side to accompany him. He must be here simply to intervene in your meeting with Doyoung.
“Lord Jeong,” you greet in clear distaste. “I was not aware you had been frequenting tea parlors as of late.”
“Ah, you must not be enlightened of my many passions then,” he replies with a cheeky smile. You resist the urge to slap it off of his face. “The madam who runs this shop has a fond affection for me. I always like to drop by and grab a free pastry.”
“How kind of you to take from the hard work of the common people at no charge,” you challenge with the tilt of your head.
Doyoung clears his throat when he senses the tension between you and Jaehyun rising with every scathing remark. You glance back to see your mother staring at you in abhorrence, and you quickly straighten your posture and adjust your tone.
“I apologize, Lord Jeong. I have been enjoying my time with Lord Kim. I am certain you have somewhere else you need to be.”
Jaehyun, to your chagrin, pulls up a chair. “Actually, my schedule is wide open for the day. I would love to join you.”
Doyoung stares at you, wordlessly asking if this is normal behavior, but you are too pissed off to respond. If Jaehyun wanted to cause a scene, he could have done so when you are not trying to prove to your mother that you still care about searching for a husband.
Your fingernails dig into the corner of the table and you lean forward to hiss at Jaehyun.
“Are you positive you have nowhere else to be?”
He smiles. “Absolutely. Now, catch me up on what you two were discussing. I would love to throw my hat into the conversation.”
Evidently, you and Doyoung have yet to be on the same wavelength for what you should and should not bring up in front of Jaehyun.
“I was asking her what she looks for in her future spouse.”
Jaehyun turns to you with a smirk. “Oh, is that so? Well, please, do not silence yourself on my behalf. I would love to hear the answer.”
“I already gave it to him,” you say in exasperation. “Maybe we should turn the tables on you. What does a rake like Jeong Jaehyun look for in a wife? Likely one that easily spreads her legs?”
You hear a gasp from behind you, and you know it is your mother’s shock at your candor. But you shall not allow Jaehyun to get the better of you and humiliate you in front of Doyoung. You hardly care if this statement will earn you a reputation for your crass nature.
The corner of Jaehyun’s lips twitches in amusement, only fueling fire to your flame.
“I would like for my wife to challenge me. It is not as fun when they comply with my every demand,” he says, and you fail to realize how the distance between you has closed in your heated spat. “I like a lady who knows how to speak up for herself, to voice her thoughts without concern for anyone else’s feelings.”
You scoff. Where in the world is Jaehyun going to find a lady like that?
“Good luck with your search, Lord Jeong. I have conviction that there is at least one lady out there who is meant to be with you.”
“I really should be going,” Doyoung says, standing and nearly toppling over the table.
You glance up at him in alarm. “Oh, I am sorry, Lord Kim. Let me just gather my things and-”
“No need, Miss. It must have slipped my mind that my mother asked for my presence back at home. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
He scurries out of the tea parlor as if the place had been set to flames. You stare after him with your jaw dropped, offended by his poor excuse to leave you behind.
You growl at Jaehyun. “Oh, you have seriously done it now, Jeong.”
“Come on. Do not tell me you were actually considering that man to be your husband.”
Your mother’s figure looms over you and you shyly look up to meet her judgmental gaze head on.
“I believe it is time for us to return home. We hope you have a wonderful evening, Lord Jeong.”
You’re dragged away by the crook of your arm, glaring at Jaehyun while your mother dishes out the biggest scolding you have ever received in your life.
—
“Your mother has brought me a proposal that I think may be in your favor.”
Your father is hesitant when he enters your study, catching you reading books by the fire. It is often the pastime you favor when your mother is upset with you, which has become more frequent in the past year. Your father is the one who searches out for you to try and talk you down, amending your qualms with your mother for a harmonious household.
“I shall not marry Kim Doyoung, father,” you say with the shake of your head. “He embarrassed me in front of the entire ton today! I will not be able to stave away the mortification for days.”
He sits next to you on the chaise lounge and looks at you solemnly.
“I have not come to converse about Kim Doyoung. I am speaking about Jeong Jaehyun.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “What does Lord Jeong have to do with this? He is the reason why Lord Kim fled from me in the first place.”
Your father wrings his hands around nervously, and you speculate on what has him so antsy. He is usually very candid with you about your behavior, which means you must have crossed a hard line if he’s withholding information from you.
“Lord Jeong’s mother came around this afternoon after your incident at the tea parlor. She thinks her son is acting far too reckless and wants him to settle down. She is considering sending him to his uncle’s house in the country if he does not start listening to her wishes.”
“That does not sound like a bad idea,” you reply with a giggle.
He offers you a strained smile. “Yes, your mother was thinking the same thing. Except she was imagining it for you.”
You leap out of your seat. He must be lying. Your mother cannot possibly be entertaining the idea of shipping you off to her brother’s house. He lives on acres and acres of land without a soul in sight except for the farm animals he cares for.
It would be your absolute nightmare.
“Father, please tell me you objected to this,” you plead, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach.
“Of course I did, darling,” he sighs, assuring you. “But then your mother and Lord Jeong’s came to an agreement that I could not oppose. I saved you from being shipped off, but in a few months’ time, you shall find yourself married to Jeong Jaehyun.”
You gasp. “F-Father, you cannot! You promised that I would get the final approval!”
He takes your hands in his and pulls you back towards his side. You are trembling at the picture of you and Jaehyun living as husband and wife. You would fight everyday and drive yourselves into a haze of madness.
“Darling, there shall never ever be a man good enough for you. I knew it from the day you were born, but your mother’s insistence on this matter has forced my hand. I think Jaehyun is a fine young man. You may not grow to love him, but he shall never put you in harm’s way. It is the most important quality a father can ask of his son-in-law.”
You start to tear up. “Please, father. Do not do this. Do not make me marry him.”
He pities you. “We shall start slow, darling. He shall be your escort to Mrs. Park’s upcoming ball and we shall ease into announcing your engagement. If he does anything untoward or compromises your virtue, I swear to you I shall back out of this deal.”
“But why can you not back out now?” You whine, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “Why can you not save me now?”
He winces as if your pain physically brings him harm. You understand your father has bailed you out of your mother’s many propositions before, but you honestly cannot let this one slip through. Jaehyun is the exact opposite of who you envision yourself marrying.
He has to be just as horrified by this proposal as you are. You have no doubt he’s sitting in a similar situation to you, arguing with his mother over her ultimate decision to alter the course of his life. This must be the first agreement you have landed on in history.
“You shall not realize it now, but I am saving you from a lifetime of heartache, trust me.”
You spend the rest of the night weeping in your bedchamber, burdened by Jaehyun’s constant overbearing presence in your life. You think back on all of the memories you have of him, and if this changes the way you feel about your inevitable coupling.
—
When you first met Jaehyun, it had been your first season out in society. You were optimistic back then, drinking in the fairytales of finding your one true love at your first ball.
You were not the only one jaded by love as many of the other ladies your age had fantasized about their first ball as an eligible lady for years. You would gossip to each other while promenading around the veranda, dreaming of the young bachelor who would swoop you up in his arms and make all your dreams come true.
You had known a few of the men from growing up with them as noble families. They were usually brothers of your closest friends, and your nose would twist in disgust at the thought of being courted by them. You were stubborn about your choice in a husband even back then.
Jaehyun had been the talk of the town that year. He already made an impression on the older ladies, winning them to his side with his dimples and classic charm. You heard of him through Yerim and how many of the other ladies were vying after the massive amount of wealth in his estate. He was one of the richest bachelors of the season, and any lady who was wed to him would automatically be elevated to a higher social status.
You assumed that because of his upbringing, he would act in a more gentleman-like fashion than the rest of his peers. You were proved wrong by his display of behavior at your first ball.
“Is he planning to dance with every lady in this room?” You asked Yerim, watching as Jaehyun once again swept through the floor with a different lady latched onto his arm. “I mean, every dance card in this place has his name written on it.”
She laughed at you. “Can you blame him? He has a lot of prospects. Everyone knows he’s the first pick of the season.”
“It is disrespectful. He is toying with their feelings for his own amusement. I do not like it.”
She poked you with a twinkle of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “No, you do not like that he has not asked you. You want a chance with him, do you not?”
You scoffed at the assumption. “Absolutely not. I have my sights set on a much higher man than Lord Jeong.”
You were so adamant on your superiority over him that when he approached you later that night for a dance, you swiftly rejected him.
“I think you have had enough dances for the night. Would you not agree, Lord Jeong?”
He narrowed his eyes at you, likely wondering what he had done to already get on your bad side.
“One more shall not bring me harm. Unless your dancing skills are not up to par, Miss?”
You grinned at him. “My dancing skills are meant for a man who shall actually appreciate my talents instead of using me to cross another name off his list.”
That was the first time you had drawn Jaehyun’s interest.
—
Your mother had not been so gracious with you by your second year.
You had fumbled through a shoddy proposal from Kim Jungwoo, who was far too nervous to actually place a ring on your finger. You unfortunately injured his ego way too far for him to recover, and he quickly withdrew his proposal with his tail tucked between his legs.
Your mother blamed you for the ordeal and ordered at least five new dresses for you to present yourself in your second season. Luckily, Yerim had not caught any gentleman callers either, and you two began flocking together at every event.
By then, Jaehyun’s infamous status as a rake had spread across the ton.
He had been spotted slipping out of brothels late at night, flirting with married women when their husbands were away, and escorting random ladies to balls just for the fun of it. You never possessed a single ounce of respect for him.
Despite this, Jaehyun would not seem to leave you alone.
Every time you turned a corner, he would be there, waiting to surprise you with an insult or tease you about your almost-marriage with Jungwoo.
“Must we keep meeting like this?” He said after the season was nearly halfway over and you had just turned down another suggestion to dance. He stalked you all the way to the bowl of lemonade while you tried to ignore his grating voice. “No one here is up to your caliber?”
“What do you want, Jeong?” You spat out, tired of his nonsense. “I thought you would be halfway down the street by now, searching for an open brothel.”
He chuckled at your jest. “They have put up warning signs about me to all the women. Apparently I caused a few too many internal fights over my rugged good looks.”
You rolled your eyes. “I find it more likely that they figured out you are sexually impotent.”
“There is only one way to find out for yourself, hm?”
“I would rather gauge my own eyes out.”
“What’s the matter? Am I not as pretty as Jungwoo?”
Johnny Suh had been the one to rescue you, asking you for a dance, which was the first offer you accepted that night. You would glance to the side from time to time to catch Jaehyun’s gaze following you around the floor, but you preoccupied yourself by staying near Johnny, preventing the loathsome creature from approaching you again.
—
Johnny had gotten married to Lady Joohyun by the next year, leaving you without a regular dance partner in your third season. Many believed he would propose to you, but you knew that he had only wanted to make Joohyun jealous after his confession to you one night.
Jaehyun, surprisingly, did not bother you whenever you were with Johnny. He had been noticeably absent from any ball where Johnny was your escort.
You believed your luck had taken a turn until your first appearance after Johnny’s marriage.
“Well well well,” you heard his drawl from a mile away. Yerim looked at you hesitantly after you tensed by her side. “Look who has decided to make an appearance on her own.”
At the time, you were giddy about your chances of a husband that season. Many noblemen had returned from vacation with friends and distant relatives accompanying them, nearly doubling the pool of gentlemen at your disposal.
You were absolutely not going to allow Jaehyun to ruin the year for you. You decided to play civil, to hopefully make amends and let bygones be bygones.
“Lord Jeong,” you greeted with a curtsy, which had Jaehyun stifling a chuckle. “How lovely to see you here.”
“Is it?” He replied with a raise of his eyebrow. “If I recall, you compared me to a horrid bug staining the bottom of your shoe just a few months ago.”
Yerim pursed her lips to prevent a cacophony of laughter from slipping out. You squeezed her arm with a scolding glance.
“That was the old me, Lord Jeong. I am a new woman, so you see. I am about to become a bride after all.”
“A bride? To whom have you been betrothed to? I have heard no news of your engagement,” he said in a flurry, his eyes flashing with a panic for reasons unbeknownst to you.
“You have not heard news of my engagement yet,” you emphasized. “The night is young and I am a very willing maiden. Therefore, if you’ll excuse us-”
“If you are so willing, then shall you entertain me with a dance?” He questioned as he held out one hand, challenging you.
You clenched your jaw in frustration. You were all in favor of extending an olive branch, but dancing with him at the first ball of the season was a tad too far. You did not want to be making a statement for yourself by befriending Jaehyun’s company.
The ladies would assume you held no dignity for yourself and the gentlemen would be appalled by your association with him.
“I have already promised my first dance with Lord Lee,” you lied through your teeth. You knew Donghyuck would not mind dancing with you just to save you from Jaehyun. “I shall see you around, Lord Jeong.”
If you had known better, you would have caught the dejected expression on Jaehyun’s face after you refused him. But all you could remember from that night was his teasing smirk and the playful lilt in his voice as he mocked you.
—
Your memories of Jaehyun do not assure you in the slightest that your parents have made the right decision.
Yerim comes over the next morning after the news of your forced marriage, soothing your cries with warm pastries and fresh tea. She rubs your back while you lay in bed, moaning for your misfortune.
“It is not that horrible,” she says in an attempt to pacify you. “At least he is good looking.”
You blink up at her. “Are you serious? I hardly care about his looks, Yerim! He is deplorable! He does not have a single redeeming quality. My mother wants to ruin my life, I am positive about that fact. How could any other suitor ever want me again once I have been tainted by Jeong Jaehyun?”
She chews on her lower lip. “I know you are not fond of him, but he may not say the same for you.”
Her statement has you peeking over your pillow, curious to hear more. She catches your gaze and exhales sharply.
“Have you ever noticed that he attends events when he knows you plan to be there? Or how he talks about you to everyone who will listen? He may have a reputation for being a rake, but you are the only lady he has asked to dance with since our first season.”
The information slowly dawns on you, but Yerim must be imagining things. Jaehyun has never felt any real romantic feelings towards you. You remain faithful that you share this conviction with him.
You shake your head. “He is deluding you as well. Trust me, Yerim, I know where Jaehyun’s true feelings lie.”
She eventually helps you get out of bed and you fail to exchange a single word with your mother while you break your fast. Yerim nudges for you to say the first word but you refuse.
Your mother only acknowledges your presence later in the night when you are due to be escorted to your first public appearance with Jaehyun.
“You are not dressed.”
You brush your hair in front of the mirror, humming softly to yourself. Yerim left to prepare herself in her own home, but you wish she had stayed to help you fight this battle with your mother.
“That is because I am not going.”
“Whatever game this is that you are playing, I do not find it amusing in the slightest. Lord Jeong will be here within the next hour and I expect you to welcome him downstairs with a proper gown and your best smile.”
As your handmaidens help you into your dress, they exchange knowing glances with each other until you grow tired of their mind games.
“May I inquire what has piqued your interest?” You ask in a bored tone.
Seulgi, your handmaiden of over five years, smiles gently at you. She has been dressing you since your first season, and is very aware how irritated you can get during times like these.
“The staff have just been discussing, Miss, since your mother announced your plans for engagement. We have been in communication with the staff employed at Lord Jeong’s household.”
You perk up slightly. “Is that so? And what have you discovered?”
Seulgi beams at you. “Lord Jeong is positively delighted by your coupling. The staff has never seen him more alert. He has been placing orders for brand new decor for your wing of the house and has requested for his staff to research your favorite delicacies to stock the cupboards. It is quite endearing.”
You frown. Jaehyun has wormed his way into the minds of your handmaidens too. His ability to manipulate others should honestly be lauded.
“How sweet of him,” you say through gritted teeth, holding back your true feelings. Although they spend more time with you, your handmaidens are employed by your mother, which means anything you say in front of them could be parroted back to her.
You devise a plan while they continue to adorn you in jewelry and work at pinning up your hair. If you could get Jaehyun to call off this marriage, you are certain his mother would relent. Your cries may go unanswered because you are simply a woman who was born into the right family, but Jaehyun will run his own household after he is married, which means he has superiority over his mother’s decisions.
You hear his voice filter from up the stairs when you walk out of your room.
“It is honestly my pleasure, madam. Your daughter is a gift that I promise to treasure.”
You huff. Where does he keep pulling these lines from?
As you walk down the steps, you take in the scene unfolding in your foyer. Your parents are speaking to Jaehyun with radiating smiles, laughing at every little thing he says. His mother stands closely behind him, joining in on the laughter with a chuckle here and there.
When your heel hits the last step, they turn to you. For the first time, you identify the twinkle in Jaehyun’s eye that tells you he’s excited to see you.
Could Yerim be right? Does Jeong Jaehyun like you?
“There she is,” your mother says, tugging you over and pretending she wasn’t upset with you an hour ago. “She is beautiful, is she not, Lord Jeong?”
“Stunning,” he whispers, and you desperately want to punch him in the face.
“Let us head out, shall we? We do not want to run late,” you say, itching to remove yourself from the spotlight. Jaehyun nods in agreement, outstretching his arm for you to take it, and you reluctantly wrap your fingers around his bicep. You lead the way to the carriage waiting outside, murmuring loudly under your breath so Jaehyun can hear you. “You are so dead to me, Jeong.”
He helps you into your carriage, and you don’t miss the pained look in his eyes as he forces a smile onto his face.
—
Jaehyun never wanted to fall in love.
He has witnessed enough of his friends losing their sanity over the matter, finding themselves on the receiving end of their mother’s meddling into their lives. Some of them have found happiness while the others have settled for what they were given.
Although Jaehyun is the only child and he knows he must marry to continue his lineage, he never imagined he would marry for love. He would likely find a well-bred lady, one who would simply finish her duty in childbearing and leave him alone otherwise.
Before tying himself to her, he desired a little recklessness in his life. He tugged on the heartstrings of the ladies in the ton and stopped by brothels when he was searching for something quick and fast. It earned him a reputation but he hardly cared about what other noble families thought of him. He knew at the end of the day, they prioritized the wealth of his estate far more than his outside trysts, which means he would have no issue in securing a wife when he wanted to.
He really was not intending on taking an interest in you.
His mother had educated him on the ladies of his season, so he knew a little of your background. You are also the only child in your family, but being born a daughter means you must get married to receive an ounce of your father’s wealth. Still, this fact never seems to spur you on in your quest for a husband. He has noticed other ladies approach him quite confidently yet you stay sidelined at every ball, waiting for the gentlemen to come to you, even though you refuse most of their offers to dance.
And he shall admit that your adamant refusal to dance with him has him intrigued.
Although the other ladies are appalled by his reputation, they remain courteous enough to accept a dance or two, mingling with him when they see fit. Since his first season, Jaehyun has made it his own personal mission to get you to join him on the floor, come hell or high water.
He just never expected forcing you to marry him as being the catalyst for you to adhere to his wishes.
“You shall tell your mother that you want to call this marriage off,” you say as soon as the swell of the music starts and you take to the floor.
He takes a step towards you with a raised eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I am positively certain I will make your life a living hell if I become your wife. You may not favor me now, but you shall surely detest me once I am finished with you.”
But as you twirl around the floor, he fails to find his voice to tell you that he does not harbor any hatred for you at all. You may play those parts in public and it may be true for you, but Jaehyun has never thought of you as the chip on his shoulder.
The rest of the ton stares at you with wide eyes, whispering to one another about the sudden closeness between you.
“Is marrying me such a stain on your character? What, am I not on par with the likes of Kim Jungwoo and Johnny Suh?”
It infuriated him to no end when Jungwoo was courting you. The man did not even know a single thing about you! He was lured in by your pretty face, and Jaehyun snickered to himself when Jungwoo soon discovered that you have an independent mind, judging the man whenever he uttered the wrong thing. Jaehyun was over the moon when Jungwoo ended your courtship.
Johnny, however, was a player that Jaehyun was not expecting. The man was tall, handsome, and could definitely handle your sharp edges better than Jungwoo. Jaehyun worried that you two would actually marry so he shipped himself off for a vacation to avoid seeing you walk down the aisle. He was content when he returned home and learned you were still single.
“Marrying you would tarnish my reputation. I cannot imagine the other ladies respecting the woman who ties herself to the world’s most infamous rake.”
He falters at the insult from you. When his mother had approached him with the idea to marry you, she expected him to swiftly turn it down, so it came as a surprise that he accepted the deal fairly quickly. He honestly could not stand the thought of you marrying the boring Kim Doyoung. The man would not understand how to entertain you, how to keep you on your toes and humor you.
He would never say it out loud, but the prospect of you becoming his wife satisfied him. He could already picture you running his estate with an iron fist, organizing the awful ledgers he has to sort through and checking if each member of the staff is well taken care of.
He wants it. He wants to wake up next to you. He wants to dance with you when there is no one else around. He wants to bury himself into you, listen to your sweet little moans as he tangles a hand through your hair-
He shakes his head to ward away the lewd thoughts threatening to crawl forward. The music slowly comes to a lull, and before he can stop you, you are darting out of his grasp and heading towards the balcony.
He sees your mother attempt to follow you but he stops her with the raise of his hand. He shadows you, keeping his eyes trained on the floral pattern of your gown.
He stops when you saunter out, slamming the doors shut behind you as you lean over the railing to catch your breath. He observes you silently, watching as you sigh and run your fingers through your hair, taking it out of its neat updo.
He waits a little before joining you in the open space.
“I did not realize I would become such a burden for you,” he whispers as you stand side by side.
You scowl at him. “How did you think I would react? Did you think I would jump into your arms and you would carry me off into the sunset?”
“You hate all of the gentlemen in the ton. You have to concede to this fact. And I understand I am not better than the rest of them, but you know me. I would never bend your will or coerce you into submission. You will be free to do as you please, I will not prevent you from your happiness.”
“But you are preventing me! Does this not register with you? I do not want to marry you. You must feel the same way, do you not?”
He hesitates, and the brief second seems to confirm your answer. You exhale and your hands tighten their grip on the railing.
“How long?” You ask in a small voice.
He swallows. “I do not know.”
“I cannot marry you, Jaehyun.”
“I shall inform my mother of your decision tonight. I apologize for causing you grief.”
You spin and saunter back into the ballroom, leaving Jaehyun’s heart crumpled into a mess on the floor.
—
Jaehyun plans to escape his troubles by embarking on a year-long vacation.
Perhaps it is enough time to move on from you, to stop worrying about you all the time and wondering who you might be with. His announcement to the staff about ending your engagement before it has even come to life has his mother in tears. They were instructed to halt all preparations for your wing of the estate and to eat whatever stock of food they had purchased for you.
He’s barely holding himself together as he packs up his things, intent on leaving and not coming back until he is ready to face high society again.
“Lord Jeong, you have a visitor at the door.”
“I am fairly occupied,” he says without missing a beat, grabbing any article of clothing he can find and throwing it into his suitcase.
But then they tell him that you are the one waiting by the door, and that has his feet moving swiftly.
You are fidgeting in the foyer, squirming as members of his household staff walk around you, carrying pieces of the decor that was meant for your bedroom.
“Lord Jeong,” you say with a curtsy, and his eyebrows furrow from the contrast of your behavior last night to today.
“How may I help you?” He asks coldly, desperately wanting to distance himself from you. You never make any task easy for him.
“I wanted to continue our conversation.”
“I did not think there was much more to say. You made your feelings very clear.”
“May we speak in private?”
He guides you into his office, leaving the door open an inch in an effort not to compromise you. You clear your throat once you are alone.
“I have thought it over and have decided to accept your proposal.”
He narrows his eyes. “You have decided to accept? Forgive me, but the last time we spoke, you distinctly voiced your opposition to marrying me. What has changed?”
You look away, your mouth twisting in the way it does when you are particularly peeved by him.
“You are right,” you admit begrudgingly. “I do not like any of the gentlemen in the ton, and I fear I never will. At least with you, I shall still have my freedom and get my mother off my back. I cannot stand another season of this — the balls, the dresses, the constant dancing. I am tired and I just want to live.”
The tension in his shoulders starts to fade. It is not exactly what he wants to hear, but he will take your acceptance if it means he does not have to leave for a year just to forget you.
“So we are carrying through with this?”
You purse your lips. “I cannot fall in love with you. Not in the way you want me to.”
He nods. “T-That is perfectly fine. I was not expecting you to.”
“And we will forgo childbearing until it is absolutely necessary.”
“That sounds plausible.”
“And Yerim is allowed to come over whenever it suits her.”
“Of course.”
You chew on your bottom lip and he resists the urge to take it in between his teeth.
“Where is my ring?”
He blinks twice. “Forgive me?”
“My ring. You must have one picked out.”
He pats his pockets but blanches when he realizes he’s not carrying his mother’s ring with him.
“Can you wait here for a second?”
He sprints upstairs to his mother’s room, startling her handmaidens when he pounds on her door. She opens it with wide eyes.
“Jaehyun, what-”
“Where is your ring?” He asks breathlessly. “The one that father gave you?”
“In my jewelry box. Why?”
“May I have it? Now? Please?”
She fumbles around to look for it, and Jaehyun bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits, fearful that if he does not get that ring on your finger, you shall disappear through the front door and he will never see you again. As soon as his mother hands him the band, he runs back down to his office, relieved when he sees you still standing by the window.
He drops to one knee in front of you and you stare back at him, unamused. He decides to skip the speech in case you change your mind, slipping the ring on your finger as you admire the diamond sparkling in the light.
“It is beautiful,” you murmur, and he thanks the heavens for your approval. You lower your hand as you state, “I shall not attend another lousy ball just for show. We shall wed as soon as we can and negotiate the details after.”
Like a puppy chasing after its tail, he submits to your every request, dreaming of you and him under one roof.
—
The next week is chaos in the Jeong household.
Members of the staff rush left and right, preparing themselves for a wedding they thought had been called off. The favorite gossip of the ton have been surrounding your wedding, pertaining to why you were getting married this quickly, how you went from despising one another to falling in love, and if tying the knot would finally promote Jaehyun from being a rake to a proper lord.
Jaehyun is keen to sit back and watch it all unfold. He has barely seen you as you have been wrapped up in dress fittings and moving your belongings into his home.
It is only the night before your wedding that you rush to his office in a panicked state.
He is startled when the door swings open and you stand there in nothing but your nightgown. You hold a candle in your hand as you scurry to his side.
“What-” he starts, wondering what could be troubling you.
“My mother has divulged to me what a husband is meant to do to his wife on the night of their wedding. I shall inform you that I do not approve of such indiscretions, if that was not made clear before.”
His cheeks flush red when it dawns on him what you must be referring to. Yes, he has conjured up many fantasies late at night, but he never assumed you would willingly lie with him on your first night together as husband and wife.
“Y-Yes, that is understood.”
“Furthermore, I shall not become the wife who sits idly by while you run to a brothel to satisfy your needs. You shall only lie with me, when I feel I am prepared and ready to accept you.”
He leans back in his seat, one eyebrow raised. “Do you think so low of me that I would disrespect you in such a public fashion?”
You huff. “Jaehyun, I am astonished that you have not done so already.”
He narrows his eyes. Before he can retort, the door bursts wide open again and your handmaiden comes rushing in.
“I apologize profusely, Lord Jeong!” She cries. “We were not made aware of her destination. You are not meant to see her like this-”
“You do not need to apologize to him, Seulgi,” you interject with a sigh. “And he shall learn to see all sides of me soon enough.”
Your handmaiden stutters for a response but you poke your finger at Jaehyun with a stern gaze.
“Do not dare forget what I said.”
“How can I when you come traipsing through here in the middle of the night, disturbing me before the biggest day of our lives?”
You exit with a dramatic flair, slamming the doors behind you as your handmaiden follows after. He slumps in his chair, exhausted and wondering how far he has to go to earn your trust.
His mother wakes him the next morning bright and early, chirping happily for the marriage she has waited years for. He readies himself on his own, pulling on his stuffy suit and tie. He thinks about how you must be faring with the glitz and glamour.
His mother and yours had invited almost the entire population of the city to the wedding. People that Jaehyun has never met in his life greet him at the chapel, congratulating him for the momentous occasion. He thanks them with a nervous smile, worried if you will actually show up at the end of the aisle.
Thankfully, when the music plays and the doors open, you step out, dressed in a long, satin white gown. He loses his breath when he looks at you, the picture perfect beauty of a bride. You hesitate under the scrutiny of the ton’s gazes, tightening your grip around your father’s arm.
Jaehyun inhales and exhales slowly. His heart is beating so hard that he can hear the thumping echo in his ears. He can hardly believe this day has come, and even more so that you agreed to marry him.
You must be running through the same thought process, for when your father hands you over to Jaehyun, you stare at him wide eyed. He takes your hand in his, soothing you by running his thumb over the back of your wrist. It unwinds you a little when you stand in front of the priest.
The priest drones on and on about eternal love and the sacred vow between husband and wife. Jaehyun keeps his eyes trained on you, watching you from the corner of his eye to ensure you are faring well.
When you turn to him to seal your lips in a kiss, his heart stops beating.
“Breathe,” he whispers just before his mouth touches yours. He can feel you trembling in his hold.
“Why do they have to keep looking at us?” You murmur.
“Because you are too pretty for them to look away.”
“You are full of it, Lord Jeong.”
His tongue traces over your bottom lip before he can stop himself. A couple’s first kiss at their wedding should be a light peck, something God would approve of.
Jaehyun does not give a damn what God thinks.
There is a small gasp in the audience when his tongue slips into your mouth. You arch into him, calm for the first time in hours.
When you break away, you blink up at him, and his curiosity flares up. Did it feel good for you too?
The crowd erupts in applause and you step away from him, smiling shyly at them. Jaehyun kicks into autopilot, walking you back down the aisle as you laugh with the people surrounding you.
When you are escorted into the gardens for your reception, he swallows.
“Well, it is over.”
You purse your lips. “Y-Yes. That kiss was-”
Your mother comes around the corner, crying as she envelops you in a hug. You pat her back awkwardly as she sobs.
“Oh, darling, I am so happy for you! So, so happy!”
Then Jaehyun’s mother mobs him, cooing about how handsome he looks. You find yourselves on opposite ends of the large space, controlling the flock of people who demand to know the next steps of your marriage.
Jaehyun fields questions left and right that are clearly an invasion of his privacy.
“How many children do you two want to have?”
“I think the best time to start making babies is right after the wedding. It’s when your hormones are at their peak. Do you not agree, Lord Jeong?”
“My theory is that you should lock yourselves away for at least two months so the seed will sprout and grow. Does that not sound wonderful?”
By the time he finds his way back to you, you both are worse for wear.
“Lord Jeong, Lady Jeong!”
You grab Jaehyun’s hand and sprint into the hedge maze. He tries not to trip over your skirt as you weave through the walls of the garden, catching your breath once you find yourselves trapped in the middle.
“They are incessant vultures!” You hiss, ripping the veil from your hair and tossing it to the side. “I mean, honestly. Who granted them the authority to decide when and how I should have a child?”
“Lady Baek almost gave me advice on how her husband gets it up! As if I need to hear such disturbing counsel regarding a man about to turn seventy!” He grunts.
You shudder. “We shall camp out here until they have all grown too tired to stick around. What was my mother thinking when she invited that many people?”
You collapse on the ground together, paying no mind to the grass stains covering your dress or the dirt coating the bottom of his pants. You listen to the steady sound of each other’s breathing, grateful to be away from the incessant noise.
He clears his throat. “What were you saying earlier? About the kiss?”
You cough. “Oh, um, nothing. It was merely surprising, that is all.”
“Sorry if I did not live up to your expectations.”
“That was not what I meant,” you mumble, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “I hardly expected you to kiss me so… passionately. In all of the weddings I have attended, the groom never devours his bride like that.”
“I did not devour you,” he corrects, flustered by your accusation.
A moment passes before you burst into a fit of laughter. He should be mad with you, but when he glances over to see you giggling into your palm, he finds the corners of his lips lifting upwards.
You settle into your harmonious laughter for a few minutes, riding on the blissful cloud of your new marriage. He did not think it had become such a huge burden on his shoulders, but he is relieved he no longer has to deal with mingling in crowded ballrooms, debating on whether he should ask you to dance or leave entirely.
The recollection has him springing to his feet. You stare up at him in confusion when he holds out his hand.
“Join me.”
“You cannot be serious, Jaehyun.”
He clicks his tongue. “I obliged to all of your rules. Come here and dance with me.”
You grumble as he helps pull you up. Once you are in his arms, he wraps a hand around your waist, holding you steady as you rest your hand on his shoulder.
The moonlight dances over your features and he swears he has never seen a sight more beautiful.
“Yerim was telling me something the other day that I found interesting,” you say.
He quirks up an eyebrow. “What did she say?”
“That you only attend balls when I am present. And that you will speak about me to anyone who will listen.”
“Do not let it go to your head,” he teases weakly.
You do not allow him to escape that easily because evidently, you love to embarrass him at any given chance.
“How long, Jaehyun?”
He thinks about the night out on the balcony when you were asking him this question with the intention to break his heart and never return.
“A long time,” he confesses. “Likely when we first met.”
You shake your head. “Why? Why me? Out of all the women in the ton-”
“The rest of the women in the ton could never hold a candle to you,” he swears, looking deep into your eyes, hoping you memorize every word. “I know you think of me as a reckless rake who will insert myself into any woman’s bed, but you must know how devoted I am to you. You are the only person I find myself laughing with, the only person who can keep up with me and drive me insane all at once. I dream of you. I understand this marriage is all a means to an end to you, but you are the only lady I have ever wanted.”
He nearly chokes when you pounce on him, smashing your lips together until he’s stumbling back into the hedges. His hands rest on your hips as you chase after him.
Your tongues fight for dominance and he realizes just how hungry he is. He has been holding himself back to preserve your dignity, but with God as his witness, you are now his wife and he gets to make you writhe in pleasure if it is his sole desire.
He bunches up your skirt, slipping his hand underneath the mountains of fabric. He growls when your corset gets in the way of the prize he really wants.
“Get this off,” he hisses, tugging at the tight strands that hug your bodice.
“Our mothers will come looking for us,” is all you can reply with.
“I do not care,” he says. “I need you.”
But a gasp interrupts your fervent entanglement. You jump apart to see his mother standing in front of you, appalled by the sight of you two.
“Jeong Jaehyun, I raised you to be a gentleman!” She scolds, approaching you and helping you look presentable again. You avoid her glare. “You both need a lesson in understanding what is acceptable for you to do in public. Just because you are married does not give you the right to behave like animals!”
She tugs you away with a huff, and Jaehyun’s head crashes against the hedge, his cock aching to be stuffed inside you.
—
You are avoiding your husband.
You do not know what has gotten into you. At first, you were loathing the creature you were forced to marry, hoping one day he would magically incinerate and you could avoid having to call him your husband. But then he was confessing to you, telling you everything a lady has always wanted to hear.
It is the first time you have ever experienced the spark of attraction to a gentleman. It is the first time you became content in getting married. It is the first time you felt… desire.
But you are not supposed to let Jeong Jaehyun get the best of you. You hide away in the daytime at Yerim’s home, brushing off her probing questions.
“It’s your honeymoon. Should you not be at home?”
You smile tightly at her. “And miss spending time with you? Of course not. Now, tell me all about Na Jaemin.”
You do not return back to the Jeong estate until supper, where you have a tense gathering with your husband across the dining table. True to his word, Jaehyun refuses to touch you until you initiate it first, which is driving you both mad with insatiable lust.
“How was your day with Yerim?” He asks stiffly, spooning soup into his mouth.
“G-Good. Sir Na has taken a liking to her. He lives in the countryside, however, and I selfishly do not want her to move away if they are to be betrothed.”
“Yes, it might be quite terrible if you were left alone in the presence of your husband with nowhere to flee.”
You narrow your eyes. “If you are insinuating something, Jaehyun, then please do not subject me to your mind games. I would rather you speak the truth.”
He smiles devilishly. “You first.”
You keep your mouth sealed shut for the rest of the meal. Even when you prepare yourselves to climb into bed together, your bedroom is filled with such unspeakable tension that you could cut with a knife.
You occupy yourself by opening a book, observing from the corner of your eye as Jaehyun turns on his side and blows his candle out. You tap your nails against the hardcover, blurting out your next statement before you can stop yourself.
“You never told me about your day.”
He muses over how to reply before he states, “I was lonely, craving a wife who wants nothing to do with me.”
You pout like a child. “I told you I am not going to fall in love with you.”
“I remember.”
It’s summer when Yerim and Jaemin get engaged. Yerim’s mother is so thrilled that she hosts a celebration party, where you and Jaehyun attend arm-in-arm, pretending to be civil with one another. You are bombarded with an onslaught of questions pertaining to how your marriage is faring, and if the ton can expect a new baby boy or girl to arrive any day now.
You stick with the excuse of, “We are trying,” to get them to go away.
Yerim pulls you aside to her bedchamber later that night, smiling widely. The joy in her expression has not left her face all night, and it comforts you to know she will be taken care of in the countryside, despite being so far from you.
“What a night!” She exclaims, falling on her mattress in glee. “I have never been this happy before, I swear it to you.”
“I can tell,” you laugh, patting her knee. “It satisfies me to know Jaemin has you this giddy.”
She chews her lip when she sits up, and she has the expression on her face that screams she has a secret.
“Can I tell you something? In the confidence of our friendship?”
“Of course,” you say, sitting next to her on the bed.
She twiddles her thumbs, clearly thrumming with nervousness. “The other day, Jaemin and I were alone.”
You gasp. “Yerim! You are not supposed to be with him unchaperoned until after you are wed!”
Her cheeks bloom a bright shade of red. “We did a lot of things we are supposed to do after we are wed.”
Your curiosity gets the better of you, and the prompt scolding you are about to give her dies down in your throat.
“W-What did he do?”
“Amazing things,” she exhales dreamily. “Do you know how good it feels when they put their mouth… down there?”
“Yerim!” You say, scandalized.
She giggles. “So you and Jaehyun still have not-”
“No,” you confirm with the shake of your head. “No, we have not. And we will not until we absolutely need to.”
She nudges your shoulder. “He is your husband now, you know. Not a rake who is looking to bed you just because he can.”
You clear your throat and rise from your spot on the bed. “We should head back downstairs. People might be searching for you.”
She’s slightly downcast by your quick dismissal but follows you without protest. You are warm from the brief discussion, imagining what Jaehyun would look like nestled in between your thighs, staring up at you with unadulterated hunger.
The vision abruptly leaves your mind once you land on the last step, spotting your husband being flanked by Sooyoung, a girl he used to be very friendly with. She is giggling at him, her hand caressing his bicep as she hangs off his every word.
You freeze, your throat growing dry at your husband openly flirting with another lady in front of you. In Jaehyun’s defense, he does not seem to be paying any attention to her, his eyes fluttering around the room.
When he finds you, you dart towards the exit, ignoring both Yerim and Jaehyun’s cries of your name. As you request for your carriage to be brought forward, a hand wraps around your wrist.
“You have made assumptions.”
You tear your hand away from Jaehyun with a glare. “I hardly care who you speak to. I am going home, the party’s over.”
He growls your name and the staff lingering nearby pretend to look disinterested.
“Do not behave like this.”
Once your carriage rolls up, you climb in, refusing Jaehyun’s help. You try to close the door behind you but your husband pushes his way inside, preventing you from making your dramatic escape.
“I do not possess any feelings for Sooyoung,” he sighs. “I never have.”
“I do not care! I am merely humiliated by the fact that you would display your affection for her in front of everyone! I know those people, Jaehyun, and I strictly told you before we were married that I would not become the wife who would stand idly by while her husband is wrapped up in an affair!”
“I am not in an affair!” You are both screaming too loud to hide your troubles from the outside. “I have never had an affair. I am devoted to you! I dream of you! How many times must I say this to you? Sooyoung approached me, asking me how I have been. I told her I was not interested in her folly and I was waiting for your return. What took you so long with Yerim anyways?”
You are riled up with anger and frustration. “She was educating me about how a proper husband takes care of his wife. Tell me, did you ever get on your knees for Sooyoung? Did you press your mouth in between her thighs?”
His eyebrows raise to his hairline, clearly not expecting you to quip back with that. You fold your arms across your chest, pouting and refusing to look at him.
You gasp when his hands suddenly pull up your dress and he sinks to his knees. You back yourself up against the wall of the carriage.
“Jaehyun, what are you doing?” You hiss.
“If you wanted to know what it feels like, you could have just asked.”
You glance around worriedly but the carriage still moves on, and the drapery covering the windows protects anyone from the outside to witness your husband wiggling his way underneath your dress.
You do not stop him, interested in how determined he is to prove himself to you. Your fingertips dart out to hold the sides of the carriage when his lips graze over your core.
You cup a hand over your mouth to keep your moans at bay. You have never dared to touch yourself in your most sensitive area. It’s unseemly for a lady of your status, and you feel as if you shall be damned to hell if you ever crossed that line.
But Jaehyun is your husband, so this must be allowed in heaven, right?
You lurch forward when his tongue runs over your folds. You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he starts to lick at your dripping cunt. He laps at you as if you are his next meal and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You are entirely too sensitive that you could cry, your body shuddering as Jaehyun buries himself deeper into your pussy.
The carriage comes to a halt as you sob, your hands tangling into his hair as your peak washes over you. When he pops his head back up, he’s grinning with your slick covering his chin.
“How was it, my dear wife?”
“Get inside the house.”
The staff are flustered when you scramble past them. Jaehyun’s hands dig into the flesh of your waist as he leads you inside, dismissing the staff by hoisting you up on the singular table in the foyer, knocking down his mother’s favorite vase.
You bring his mouth to yours as the spark inside you bursts into flames. Months of tension finally unravel as he pushes your thighs apart, slotting himself in until he’s rolling down into your core.
“Jaehyun,” you whine. “Please.”
“Did Yerim tell you what men can do with their fingers?” He asks, his bottom lip dragging over your jawline.
“N-No.”
You squeak when he unlaces your corset, practically ripping it in half in his efforts to peel it off of you. His mouth is drawn to the swell of your breasts, taking your exposed nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud.
A maid comes from around the corner at the sound of the broken glass from the vase, but she chokes when she sees her employers dangling off a tiny table, enraptured in one another.
When he slips a finger inside you, you’re driven wild with lust. None of the noble lords and ladies would recognize you if they saw you now, encouraging your husband to use his teeth while sucking at your breasts and begging him to stuff more fingers inside your cunt.
“Dear God,” you sob when his thumb circles at your clit.
You have never felt pleasure like this in your entire life. Is this why women get married? Is this why they subject themselves to uncomfortable corsets and boring dances?
“You like it, do you not?” He questions in a mocking tone, hovering over you with a darkened gaze. “Imagine how we could have had this months ago if you had only swallowed your pride. Falling in love with me does not sound so horrifying anymore, does it?”
His teeth sink into the juncture of your neck as you chant his name. You cum when he inserts another digit inside your wet hole, curling his fingers forward, causing you to feel boneless in his grasp.
“I will not have our first time be like this,” he says, licking his fingers clean and carrying you in his arms.
“The bedroom is too far,” you reply, wanting to jump his bones immediately.
He chuckles. “You made me wait months. I think you can handle a few minutes.”
The room is spotless when you walk in, making you feel slightly guilty for ruining the staff’s hard work. But then Jaehyun drops you on the mattress and unlaces his breeches, and your focus hones in on his lower half. Your vision grows heavy when he reveals himself.
You never quite understood what gentlemen were packing down there, but you surely never would have guessed this. His member is long, thick, and veiny, startling you when he wraps a hand around his base.
“W-What are you planning to do with that?”
He laughs. “My wife, this is meant to go inside you.”
Your brain stops working for a second. He senses your hesitance, smiling playfully as he leans over you, kissing you gently.
“I shall take it slow. It shall feel good once you get used to the stretch.”
“Do you promise?” You say timidly.
He nods. “It helps that you are already so wet.” You scoff when he swipes his fingers over the wetness coating your thighs. He kisses every inch of exposed skin he can find, helping you loosen up to take his massive cock. “It is going to hurt the first time, but I swear it will get easier.”
“Who said we would be doing this again?” You inquire.
His chuckle vibrates against the shell of your ear. “Trust me. We shall definitely do this again.”
He lines himself up to your entrance, distracting you with a kiss. You never believed kissing could be worthwhile, but you find that you do not mind the act at all when it comes to your husband.
But Christ, is he trying to split you in half?
“Hurts,” you whimper as he gradually pushes in.
He stops immediately. “Do you want me to pull out?”
You shake your head. “No, no. Just… make it feel better.”
“You like it when I touch you here,” he says, returning his thumb to your clit, rubbing the nub in slow circles.
You close your eyes, powering through the overwhelming pain with the small windows of pleasure. Jaehyun does not appear to be experiencing the same issues, gritting his teeth when he bottoms out.
“You are squeezing me too tightly,” he groans. “Ease up a little, wife. I am going to finish before we have truly started.”
“I cannot! You are intent in destroying me!” You retort.
“Fuck,” he curses, dropping his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. “Tell me when I should start moving.”
“Moving?” You pale. “Is this not the entire thing?”
“I thought your mother explained this to you the night before our wedding?”
“She never discussed the specifics!”
His hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You blink back the tears threatening to spill and he smiles at you, assuring you that everything is going to be okay.
“Do you trust me? You must trust me a little at this point.”
“A little,” you grumble. “Don’t push your luck.”
He moves to sit on his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders and holding them in place while he thrusts into you. Initially, he’s apologizing for the pain, but you slowly adjust to his size and your wetness begins to emit a thwacking sound against the flesh of his thighs.
Moans spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“That is it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”
You would not think that Jaehyun’s praise would have such an effect upon you. You are whining for him as his cock batters into your pussy, staining the sheets with the mix of your wetness.
“I shall not last,” he says through bated breaths. “You are squeezing me too tightly.”
Moments later, he spills into you, filling you with the warmth of his cum. He withdraws himself to replace his length with his fingers, swirling them inside your cunt until you are falling over the edge of your third climax.
He collapses next to you, his chest rising up and down. You gaze at him shyly.
“So when shall the baby come?”
He smiles at you. “It normally does not take the first time. We have to keep trying until you feel the babe start to grow.”
You narrow your eyes. “You are surely making that up.”
He winks. “Trust me. We shall practice until you acquire a taste for it.”
—
You and Jaehyun apologize profusely to the staff the next day for your behavior, but they simply smile and tell you to work hard in your baby making efforts.
You are both startled when you approach the breakfast table to see his mother sitting there, sipping on her morning cup of tea.
“M-Mother?” Jaehyun stutters. “What are you doing here? I thought you were away handling matters of the estate.”
She smiles knowingly at you, and you slink behind your husband’s back, feeling like a child who has been scolded for eating too many treats.
“I wanted to check in on you. I arrived last night.”
“Last night?” You and Jaehyun both question in shock.
You recall his messy display of fingering you in the foyer for everyone to witness. Did his mother see her son ravaging you? Did she watch you fall apart under his touch?
Her grin seems to convey your answer. She gestures to the chairs beside her.
“Come and sit. I want to hear all about my future grandchild.”
You return to your bedchamber after breakfast feeling mortified. Jaehyun tries to soothe your worries with a gentle hand at your back.
“It is very normal for a husband and wife to be intimate.”
“Not for a lady to expose herself in front of her mother-in-law and the staff!”
He winces. “I am certain that they found the scene to be arousing, if anything.”
You dig your head into the pillows, pouting. “You fail at lifting up my spirits.”
You feel him peppering kisses over your shoulder, his hands wandering where they should not be. You try to swat them away but he whines in your ear.
“She already knows about us anyway. Let me have a little fun.”
You turn on your side to face him, grazing your fingers over his cheek. You hate that Yerim was right — your husband is very handsome.
“When I said I would never fall in love-”
“It is fine. I understand.”
“No, no,” you correct, tracing his jawline. “I was going to say that I think I could. If you give me enough time and if you do not act like an insufferable rake, I could see myself loving you.”
He smirks. “I am quite flattered.”
You roll your eyes. “Can you do that thing with your mouth again?”
“Happy to oblige, wife.”
this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!
summary: gabriel bortoleto fancies himself a matchmaker. it’s too bad it tends to come at the cost of you and isack’s dignities.
word count: 1.9k
warnings: not nsfw but very very very suggestive also lots of tension + bits of dialogue in portuguese
eve’s notes: remember when i said i would write an alternative scene to truth or dare in my last isack imagine? this is it :)
You regret ever saying yes to Gabriel. Really—you’re drained, you’re drunk, and you want nothing more than to get inside the bed of your hotel room and sleep like the dead. Instead, you’ve somehow managed to extend your stay at this impromptu afterparty Kimi managed to get you all into.
The playlist is a dull sound in the background—not too loud, especially since you’re still inside a hotel with other guests just on the opposite side of the wall. Regardless of how ridiculously big the room is, noise is still noise.
Isack looks about as worn out as you do. The two of you had been on the verge of falling asleep just moments ago. You’re not quite sure how the two of you ended like that, leaning against each other on one of the couches, eyes slowly closing and breaths evening out. Your head tucked against Isack’s shoulder, knees brushing against his.
You could’ve gotten used to that—Isack’s slow inhales and exhales like a lulling beat, luring you into sleep. That is, before Gabriel decided to shake the two of you and drag you into the circle of people.
“Sometimes I can’t stand you, Bortoleto,” you mutter as you’re forced to sit next to him. Isack, on the other hand, is called over by Kimi and Ollie on the opposite side of the circle. For a moment, it almost looks like the two other rookies and Gabriel share a look—something mischievous, something you definitely do not want to get roped into.
“So, what is this, exactly?”
“It’s…” Gabriel pulls a face, turning to Rafaela, who sits next to him with a bowl in front of her legs. “Como se chama isso mesmo?”
“Correo de brujas,” Rafaela responds, and you realize that there are slips of paper inside her bowl.
“Correo de brujas,” Gabriel repeats, as if that explains it.
“Right. So, again—what is this, exactly?”
Apparently, it’s a game Gabriel learned from Franco a while back. Witches’ mail. There’s an empty bottle at the center, and whoever it lands on, has to take a dare from the bowl.
“Kind of like Truth or Dare,” Rafa explains from her spot, “Except it’s only dares, and they’re not exactly… soft.”
Even then, it doesn’t start off too hard. Isack is asked a Fuck, Marry, Kill with team principals from the grid. Gabriel is dared to spell his phone number just by moving his ass in the shape of the digits—all while everyone tries to guess what each one is. At some point, Kimi and Ollie are made to share a gummy bear between their teeth and try to split it in half with just their mouths.
And you won’t lie—you are having fun, laughing at the expense of others. It’s funny, hilarious, even—up until the bottle lands on you.
One of the boys from F2 whose name you can’t recall hands you the bowl. You pull one slip of paper dramatically, unfolding it and quietly hoping it’s not something too ridiculous.
You squint at Rafaela’s handwriting. “Um. It says… which one do you want?” You turn to Gabriel. “Does that mean I get to pick?” But the two Brazilian drivers sitting next to you are grinning too widely for it to be anything remotely easy for you.
“Nope,” Gabi says, standing up to grab a chair and drag it to the center of the circle. He’s still looking too smug when he pats it twice, gesturing at you. “Take a seat.” You do so reluctantly, while Gabriel puts his hands on his hips as he does a quick scan of the room. “Does anyone have, like, a bandana?”
One of the girls from F1 Academy—Courtney, if you’re not mistaken—opens her purse and pulls out a scarf. “Does this work?”
Gabi nods, reaching for it with a quick thank you. He moves to stand behind you as he ties around your eyes, making sure it won’t slip. You reach up to touch it—it’s silky, soft. Maybe you should ask Courtney where she got it from. “There.”
“Is this what you people are into, now?” you ask, shifting on your chair. You hear a few people laughing, your vision entirely obscured.
“You cannot see anything, yes?” Gabi asks, his voice sounding farther away now. You hear rustling.
“Nothing at all,” you quip.
“Good.” He clasps his hands together, making you flinch. “Okay, this game works like this. I have three foods in my hands. One,” he pauses, so you imagine he’s raising it and showing it to the circle. “Two,” you hear murmurs. “Or three. Which one would you like?”
You roll your eyes under the scarf. “But I can’t see them.”
“Exactly.” God, you can hear the smugness in his tone. Why are you friends with him again? “So, what will it be? One, two or three?”
You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, not quite understanding why you suddenly feel a spike of nervousness. You try to shrug it off. “Um. Two.”
You hear Aurelia laugh against her palm, and you can only pray that’s a good sign.
“Alright.” Gabi’s voice grows closer. “Where do you want it?”
“Excuse me?” you turn to him, and you hope that, despite the scarf tied around your face, he can still tell that you’re glaring at him.
“I’m going to point to three places, you have to pick one. Do you want it here.” You realize a beat to late that he’s not actually going to touch you—ergo, you have no clue to which places he’s pointing at. “Here,” you shift in your chair as you hear someone laugh. “Or here?”
“…The third one.”
“Alright.” The sound of air hissing feels too close to your ear, followed by a cold substance landing against your neck.
You visibly flinch, surprised. “Gabriel!” you snap. The sweet, sugary scent of whipped cream is near immediate.
Gabriel is doing a poor job at stifling his laughter. Before you can protest, Rafaela pipes up, “That’s too little,” and you hope that wherever you’re aiming at, you manage to flip her off. He chuckles and shakes the can again, before promptly placing more whipped cream on your neck. You shudder.
“Fuck you two, by the way,” you say, which just earns you a few laughs. You’re still not sure where this is all going, other than Gabriel and Rafaela seem to be having the time of their lives.
He takes a step back. “Okay. Now, for the last part—who do you want to take it off you?”
“I’m sorry, did you say who?”
He shushes you, and you can hear him wandering around the circle, footsteps slow and casual. Even blindfolded, it’s like you can see all the eyes glued to him, expectant. “Do you want… one,” people around the circle whistle loudly as Gabriel points to them. “Two,” the noise grows louder, followed by scattered sounds of amusement and excitement. “Or three?”
“Um,” you stammer, palms sweaty. You rub them down against your jeans, hoping it’ll rid you of this lingering nervousness. “I don’t know, uh… two?”
You don’t hear what Gabriel says—or more so can’t over the whistles and teasing. You can feel someone approaching your seat, but pausing just a step shy of you. Your body feels warm, too warm, like you’re suddenly aware of all your nerve endings and connections—like a livewire. There’s a moment of silence, where you’re still sat, blind and clueless, before Rafaela calls out, “Ah! You can’t use your hands.”
Tentatively, a hand gently moves your hair aside. From his scent alone, you can tell it’s not a girl. His breath fans against your neck for a second, and you stifle the urge to move the blindfold. You hear him breathe in once, as if bracing for impact, before his tongue darts out against the scoop of whipped cream resting on your neck. His lips feel warm and soft, tingling against your skin. You inhale sharply. He pulls away, before both Rafaela and Gabriel protest simultaneously.
“No—you’re not done.”
“You have to clean it all off.”
You hear a small, barely audible huff of frustration that feels remarkably familiar. Then, his lips are on your neck again, slow, careful. A part of you wonders if he can feel your pulse jackrabbiting against his teeth. Your breath feels uneven when he lowers his head a little, aiming for the whipped cream that has slid onto your clavicle. You stifle a shiver. Everything feels magnified without your sight—the hand still holding your hair, the warmth of his lips on your skin, his tongue working against the white dessert, the brief feeling of his teeth.
For a moment, you’re certain you stop breathing.
He licks one last stripe across your neck, before finally pulling away.
The whistles and catcalls aimed at him that follow are deafening, even more so with your sight gone. Still, you hear Kimi’s voice tangled in there somewhere—though what he says, exactly, you don’t manage to catch.
“Okay, now you can take the blindfold off,” Gabriel says.
You reach up for the scarf, trying to hide the initial unsteadiness of your hands. Your heartbeat is ringing in your ears, pulse still a few beats too quick. Even the dim lights of the room feel blinding for a moment as you blink in an attempt to get accustomed to them again. You’re blushing. You know you’re blushing, and you hate it.
Staring at you with the most irritating self-satisfied smile ever is Gabriel. He grins. “Now, you have to point out who it was—but, if you get it wrong, you never get to find out the truth.”
Your throat is dry, the feeling of lips against your neck still ghosting over your skin. It’s hard to focus on the people around you, some friends, some co-workers, some strangers. You don’t think Gabi would’ve chosen a complete stranger. He’s an annoyance, but you’re still friends. You’d like to think that there’s at least some boundaries he’d be willing to respect.
Your gaze flickers from Gabriel to Rafaela to your fellow rookies to—Isack. Isack, whose cheeks are looking noticeably pink. He licks his lips somewhat nervously. You freeze. Just a split second. Because, by the corner of his mouth, you can see a speck of sugary white cream.
Your skin burns like it has been set alight.
“Um,” you stammer. You glance besides Isack. “Aurelia?”
She grins, and all three Brazilians start clapping and laughing. “Now you’ll never know!” they chant, the rest of the group joining in. “Now you’ll never know!”
Big brown eyes meet your gaze. Isack looks about as flustered as you feel. Clumsily, you move to spin the bottle, which thankfully lands far in the opposite direction. The spot next to Isack is empty now, and you quietly thank that the attention is off you when you move to sit next to him.
Isack’s posture immediately stiffens, all traces of exhaustion gone from his face. He drums his fingers against his knee, suddenly all too aware of your presence next to him. Warmth blooms in your chest.
“Isack,” you whisper.
“Yeah?” he asks dazedly, voice pitching higher. He coughs, red still splotching his cheeks.
You lean closer to him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes immediately flick from your eyes to your neck to your lips. He might actually look more wrecked than you do. Something akin to sunlight melts through your chest. Confidence—maybe something better than that.
Your thumb brushes against the corner of his mouth, and his breath hitches. He swallows, throat bobbing. You tilt your head, bringing your thumb to your mouth as you lick off the last speck of whipped cream.
“I like it,” you hum, trying to bite down a smile as you watch Isack, frozen on his spot, tips of his ears turning bright red. “It’s sweet.”
a/n: okay so correo de brujas isn’t played exactly like this, but since almost everyone that answered my last poll said they hadn’t heard of the game i figured it would be fine <3 power of fanfiction at all. the whipped cream one though? very much real let me tell you.
summary: being a formula 1 driver is demanding for many reasons. it’s too bad it seems to have the unwanted side-effect of making you an idiot at love.
word count: 3.1k
eve’s notes: just realized i have a thing for titling isack fics after sabrina carpenter songs. also reader is besties with gabi and that was completely self indulgent <3
If there’s one thing that can be said about Formula 1 drivers is that when they party, they party hard.
The night has progressed in a series of blurs and flashes. Neon lights. Music that makes the floor beat like a drum. Screaming conversations in an attempt to be heard. Free drinks—which is almost funny in your eyes, really. Because only now that you have the salary to afford an entire bar, you’re suddenly being offered free alcohol at every place you set foot in.
“You’re popular,” Gabriel teases, sitting across from you in the round table Ollie managed to get for all of you. A member of the staff hands you yet another drink you’ve definitely not ordered. Actually, you don’t think you’ve gotten the chance to order anything all night.
You roll your eyes goodnaturedly, “Acting like you haven’t received, like, five rounds from the girl in the blue top.”
Gabriel raises a brow, the corner of his lip curling with amusement. “Ah, but I am in a very committed relationship to my girlfriend.” His eyes flick back to the guy that the server pointed as the gift sender. “You are not seeing anyone.”
You roll your eyes, and even with the music and the flickering lights, you can tell the entire table of rookies seems to focus on your response. Gabriel, in particular, has taken a liking to teasing you over your love life. Or lack thereof.
“He looks like he wants to ask you to dance,” Kimi grins. He’s not exactly sober—though you’re really not one to talk. If anything, Kimi has simply taken full advantage of Monaco’s legal drinking age.
Besides Kimi, Isack toys with the straw in his empty glass. He looks pensive, if not a bit tired. As you’ve come to find out in the first months of the season, Isack’s a bit of a lightweight. You think he might still feel haunted by the last time you went out as a group—when he ended up vomiting inside your purse to avoid spilling his guts on the Uber’s floor. The walk to your respective rooms was filled with a teary-eyed still-drunk Isack rambling apologies in a hard to follow tangle of French and English, all despite your insistence that it’s fine, really, I didn’t even like it that much anyways.
The next day, you found a newer model of your purse waiting for you at the lobby. You also found that Isack had trouble meeting your gaze for the rest of the flight back. Looking at him now, under the orange-turned-pink hue of the lights, you notice that Isack still isn’t meeting your gaze. You wonder if he’s still embarrassed—you wonder what would be the best way to tell him that you didn’t care in the first place, that it’s fine, that all you want is for him to feel relaxed around you again.
“Don’t pressure her,” Isack says, and for a moment you think you’ve imagined it, words almost getting lost to the music. His back isn’t as stiff as before, the alcohol helping him loosen up a little. He looks at Kimi, but the Italian boy just raises his brows smugly, like he knows something.
“I am not,” Kimi insists. “But if no one is dancing with her, I don’t see why she shouldn’t dance with him.”
Isack’s frown sets.
“Maybe I just don’t feel like dancing,” you say relaxedly, shrugging your shoulders as you unconsciously hand Ollie your gifted drink. He accepts it eagerly.
“Everyone loves dancing.”
“Kimi.”
“Chiedile di ballare,” he insists, and you immediately dislike the fact that you’re among the minority drivers in this table that don’t speak Italian. Even Gabriel—who you know for a fact doesn’t speak Italian—looks too smug for your liking.
Isack’s jaw tenses. He returns his gaze to his empty glass, straw pushing around the ice. Kimi grows bolder at that, leaning forward. His mouth opens to add something else, but you beat him to it.
“I’m not indulging him,” you say, with an air of finality.
“Oh?” Gabriel asks, brows arched smugly. “Any reason why?”
“Yeah, like fifty. But I think I’ll settle for he’s probably trying to use me to get to you guys.” All four boys seem to pause at that, turning to you equally confused. Clueless, the lot of them.
“I think that’s the other way around,” Ollie says.
You roll your eyes, not annoyed, but unsurprised. “Right. He’s been staring at the lot of you for a while. Who knows? Maybe any one of you is more of his type than I am.”
“You are not giving yourself enough credit,” Isack says, and you’re almost surprised to find those big brown eyes on you. He doesn’t look away—not immediately, anyway. Maybe he is a little drunk. “You are a driver too, you know. He would be lucky to have your attention,” he says bluntly. Kimi nudges him with a laugh, and Isack’s cheeks redden—or maybe it’s the club lights. You’re not sure.
“Yeah?” you test. “I’ll go one step further—I bet that if he finds the courage to come up, he asks for a picture with you within the first minute.” You shrug. “Guys just don’t find it nearly as interesting or impressive when I’m the driver, let me tell you.”
Isack frowns. “You are talking to the wrong guys, then,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“Am I?” you ask, just to tease, to test whether Isack is drunk and confident or being earnest. “Who should I be talking to, then?”
Someone clears their throat behind you. The entire table perks up, and when you turn, you find the guy that had been sending drinks your way. He’s still cute up close, handsome even.
Not your type, though.
You realize that he has been talking for a beat, and you blink back into attention. “So, you wanna dance?” he asks, British accent distinct.
You can feel all four pairs of eyes snapping back to you like little pinpricks at the back of your neck. You smile apologetically. “Sorry—we’re actually leaving soon.”
He takes it in stride, nodding his head. “Oh, no worries.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, before his gaze swivels to your side. His eyebrows tick upward. “Hey, you’re Ollie Bearman, right?” He cracks a nervous smile. “Can I get a picture?”
Gabriel loudly snorts into his drink, earning a startled glance from the guy. You can see Isack, Kimi and Ollie alike struggling to keep a straight face.
You smile brightly. “Do you want me to take it for you?”
He nods eagerly, looking much more excited now than he did when he was asking you to dance. “Oh, yeah,” he starts, already handing you his phone, “that’d be mint.”
Kimi’s shoulders shake as he tries to hide his laughter.
You’re not quite sure who’s hotel room this is. Nights out with your rag-tag band of rookies usually end at the club, where you all end up catching a cab or calling an Uber back to your respective hotels. You get a decent night’s sleep. And early next morning, you all pretend like you’re not ridiculously hungover for the flight home.
Tonight is shaping up to be the exception.
You think maybe it was Gabriel—though it might’ve been Kimi, who got invited to this room afterparty of sorts and roped you all into it. You spot Doriane by the balcony window, so you figure you must be correct. Mercedes actually does a lot of promos with their F1 Academy drivers, so both of them have been growing friendly throughout the season. You wonder whether you should bring it up with your team.
It’s a quiet murmur when he asks, “You okay?” You tilt your head up, and find that you’ve been leaning against Isack’s shoulders. When did that happen? “You’ve been zoning out for a bit.”
“M’good,” you say, inhaling deeply before nuzzling your head back onto his shoulder. “Just tired.”
Maybe a little socially exhausted too. You’ve lost sight of Gabriel—maybe for the better—with Kimi and Ollie spread somewhere across the room. There’s smatters of familiar faces, faces whose names you can’t quite recall, scattered between the furniture. A few influencers, a few motorsport drivers. Still, it’s dying down, with fewer and fewer people still roaming around.
“Maybe it’s time we head back,” Isack says, and he also sounds tired, strung out. It’s been a demanding week, and you don’t particularly feel like staying up til sunrise.
You turn quietly, lips pressed against the sleeve of Isack’s white shirt. You feel him stiffen under you as you complain, “I need to find Gabriel,” you groan.
He furrows his brows. “Why?”
You grumble. “Because Alpine and Sauber rented rooms in the same hotel, and I made him promise we’d go back together.” Stupid, in hindsight. Especially since Gabriel usually has a lot more stamina than you do for these sorts of events.
You can feel Isack’s hand gently settle around your waist as you move to stand up, offering some sense of stability. Miraculously, you spot Gabriel moving up to the table with a green glass bottle in hand.
“Gabi!” you call.
He looks up, arching a brow, and you can see in his slightly sluggish movements that he’s also far from sober.
“O quê?” he asks.
“Quero—quero voltar ao hotel,” you say, Portuguese clumsy with alcohol.
“We can’t leave now,” Gabriel says, like it’s obvious. He shows you the bottle in his hand—empty—as if that explains it. “We’re about to play.”
Your nose scrunches. “Play what?”
You shouldn’t have asked. At the very least, you shouldn’t have looked at Gabriel when you said it—because all it took was for him to see the annoyance in your face to take it as an opening to drag you towards a circle of people. They’re all sat on the floor, familiar and unfamiliar faces. Gabriel strides to the center and places the bottle there.
“Is this spin the bottle?” you ask, looking up at Gabi as he takes a seat next to you. On the opposite side of the circle, Isack sits down on the last open spot next to a grinning Kimi.
“What are we, children?” Gabriel rolls his eyes with a devious smile. “It’s truth or dare.”
“Much classier,” you respond dryly.
He clicks his tongue, dismissive. “Você vai gostar.”
“Uh-huh. Veremos isso,” you reply, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.
To be fair, Gabi is not that far off—for a while, it is entertaining. Kimi is dared to text Toto saying that his mum is on the fence about letting him drive next week because he’s failing Maths. Isack is asked who his favorite teammate has been during his time in the Red Bull—and he’s promptly booed when he gives the cop out answer of Pepe Martí. Ollie is dared to attempt a handstand, which, as expected, ends poorly. Doriane is asked which drivers she misses most from F1 Academy—and no one is really surprised when her immediate answer is Abbi Pulling. For a dare, you’re forced to text Pierre whether he found his buzzcut had any aerodynamic advantages when driving.
And though you’d never admit it—yeah, maybe Gabriel was right and this is more fun than you expected.
“You are all so soft,” Aurelia says, bringing her plastic cup to her lips.
“I agree,” Kimi says, leaning forward to spin the bottle. “Next person it lands on is obligated to choose dare.”
The bottle spins in a blur of emerald green, progressively slowing until it ultimately lands squarely on Isack.
“What? That’s not fair!” he says, accent thicker. “You changed—”
“Rules are rules,” Ollie says with a loose shrug, and you’re too far away to catch the mischievous glint in his eye. He leans closer to Kimi’s ear, shielding his mouth with his palm as he whispers something to him. If his growing grin is a giveaway of anything, Isack’s not gonna have it easy. Both Ollie and Kimi glance at you simultaneously.
You don’t like it.
“I dare you… to kiss someone in this room,” Kimi says, and Isack stares at him like he intends to sear a hole into his skull.
“What?” he repeats. “I am not going to—”
“C’mon, Isack,” Ollie urges, leaning back against his palms with a laguidness that seems completely opposed to Isack’s tensing back. “Be a good sport. You already saw me nearly split my head against the table.”
Reluctantly, Isack stands up, earning a few whistles from the people around. He flushes, cheeks tinged with a pretty pink color. His gaze catches on Gabriel for a split second, but before he can step forward, the Brazilian boy shakes his head. “Don’t look at me, I am taken.”
Then, as if on instinct, Isack’s brown eyes fall onto you. Your stomach feels tight, fluttering with something you can’t bring yourself to name. He swallows sharply, doing another scan of the circle of people. Influencers, drivers, strangers. He finds you again.
Isack ducks closer to you, kneeling down to be at your level. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears. More whistles, louder this time—
It’s a punch in the gut, realization. You’re the safe option. The only person he can really call a friend that isn’t actively seeing someone. Someone who won’t use this for clout. Someone he knows—someone who’s safe.
Your heart is still racing, but the butterflies in your stomach turn to stones. Oh. Disappointment is a bitter water.
Isack’s hand gently cups your cheek, and you can feel his breath fanning against your nose. He looks nervous from up close. Anxious. Trying to play it off. But his touch is tentative—and when you meet his gaze again, something shifts in his brown eyes. Something you can’t place, but feels remarkably similar to a barely concealed disappointment.
You hold your breath when Isack leans closer, eyes fluttering shut.
You feel the press of his lips against your cheek. He pulls away just as quickly, as if your skin has somehow burned him.
Kimi groans loudly, shaking his head, “Aw, come on mate, that is not what I—”
Isack sits back on his spot, muscles taut and jaw tense. “Don’t push it.”
Your breath still trembles a little, adrenaline still overflowing inside your body. Your mouth feels bitter. Like biting into a fruit, only to find out it’s spoiled.
Besides you, Gabriel side-glances at you once. Twice. Three times. He isn’t nearly as subtle as he thinks himself to be. From there on, the night wraps up as a blur. Eventually, Ollie, Gabi, Isack and you decide to wrap up the night while Kimi stays behind alongside Doriane to go up to their respective rooms.
Ollie and Gabriel wait by the sidewalk, phones open on the Uber app. Isack stays back by your side, both of you sitting against the limestone stairs of the hotel.
He’s been quiet. Quieter than usual. This time, you’re the one not looking at him. Despite the alcohol, despite the exhaustion, your mind feels like it’s running on overdrive. His kiss on your cheek still ghosts on your skin. Is it you? Is that why he didn’t want to kiss you? You fold your arms over your chest, staring at the floor like it’ll give you an answer.
“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier,” Isack finally says like a murmur, a mumbled confession.
You furrow your brows, looking back at him. “What?”
He scratches his cheek, quiet again for a beat. “The… the dare thing. I should have asked you first.”
You’re not sure whether to laugh or not. Your stomach still feels all tangled up. His big brown eyes peer back at you, as if seeking forgiveness. “You just kissed my cheek, Isack.”
He swallows, and he looks like he wants to turn away. Like he wants to pretend this entire conversation never happened. Instead—
Instead. His eyes flicker downwards, finding your lips and lingering for a second. Two. He inhales sharply, licking his own lips when he meets your gaze again.
“Yeah,” he says, a little out of breath, “but I wanted to do more than that.”
Your heart catches in your throat. The glow of orange streetlights illuminates his face, softening his expression. His nose. His eyes. His pouty mouth. “You did?”
He nods hesitantly, then more confidently. “I always do.”
You can see it in the way he holds his breath, the way his whole body seems to brace for impact—like he’s waiting for rejection. For you to turn him down.
You’re the one cupping his cheek this time. Isack freezes on his spot as he blinks at you.
“Isack,” you hum.
He swallows, voice barely a whisper. “Yeah?” He’s a breath away from you now.
“Relax,” you say, and you bring your lips against his. It takes him a moment to reciprocate, but the second he does, you can feel him smiling against you. Your hand falls away from his cheek, and instead reaches for the collar of his shirt, as if you’re not physically close enough to you already. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip. You melt into him.
You hear the shutter of a picture and a flash of light. When you and Isack fall apart, you find Ollie with his phone pointed at you, while Gabriel narrows his eyes at you.
“I can’t believe Kimi missed it,” Ollie says, texting him the picture.
Gabriel clicks his tongue, annoyed. “You just couldn’t wait until we got back, could you?” He types something on his phone. “Now I owe Ollie money.”
And maybe you’d be annoyed at that. But Isack scoffs a laugh and presses his head into your shoulder, flustered. His hand feels warm around your back. You lean your head against his. Maybe. Maybe you could get used to this.
a/n: wrote an alternative game to truth or dare because a better version occurred to me when i had already written this one <3
cherry here!...had fun writing this one teheee. it's a long one, so definitely take breaks in between and enjoy. missed you guys—welcome to the twisted world of greed mwah!
Twirling your tongue around the bright pink straw, you blink blankly, quietly taking in the conversation that occurs in front of you. You should probably talk a bit, you remember thinking. Smile, at least, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to lie—you didn't want to be here.
“I thought you hated pineapple?”
Turning, you shrug half-heartedly over at Lando. “It makes my mouth itch,” you mumble, not enjoying a single sip of the smoothie. Well, except for the whipped cream. Taking a lick, your eyes stay connected onto his blue ones as he shakes his head.
“Don’t drink it, then,” he tries, but you simply turn a blind eye, facing the complete opposite direction. From where you're sitting, you spot a group of kids playing jump rope. Even when one of them falls with a loud splat and starts to cry, you continue to stare.
“Oh no,” a soft voice gasps. As soon as you hear it, you grind your teeth, hearing a slight crack immediately. “Poor baby.”
You like to think of yourself as an even person. Everyone who enters your life deserves a fair chance. You’ll get to know them—befriend them, perhaps—and if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but no one can say you never tried.
But oh, how you hated Lily Zneimer.
The worst part of all is that there isn’t really a single reason for your sudden distaste towards her. On paper, you two should be the best of friends, but the one thing holding you back is sitting right in front of you.
Oscar clicks his tongue, a nice tick coming through as his sharp brows raise with surprise as he watches the scene unfold. He, too, sort of remains as stoic as you, but the one difference is that he has a bit more empathy. You lack a lot of that, you’ll be the first to admit.
The cries continue, the young boy's parents suddenly alert by now as they run towards their child. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he says, squinting his eyes due to the bright sun. “It builds character.”
“Getting hurt?” Lily asks, frowning as she gently shoves his shoulder. “You really do have a heart made of ice.”
This gets a snicker out of your boyfriend, making you sigh, instantly checking out, but Lando is as happy as can be. While he enjoys the moment, you lack interest in it, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Australian was the one that invited you both out for drinks, then you would have happily been tucked away in bed. Make good use of the hotel perks and whatnot.
The brown eyed driver swings a hand behind his girlfriend's chair, playfully tugging her hair, making her blush and making you recoil with disgust. Not that you ever show it, but you definitely feel it. “Maybe I do, but only you can make it melt.”
That’s enough to call it a day. Standing abruptly, the chair squeaks against the pavement as you share a tight lipped smile. All at once, their eyes look up at you as you force a yawn. “I think I’m going to head up now. Thanks for the invite,” you say.
Lily pouts subtly, blue eyes round and hazy. “So soon? It’s still early.”
You nod, sparing her small smile, but deep within, the sound of her sweet voice begins to irritate you to the point you think you might snap. “The sun’s got me tired. I just need to lay down a bit.” Leaning forward, you peck Lando’s cheek, warm and sandy. “But I'll see you later, yeah?”
“Sure,” she squeaks, waving numbly as they watch you walk away—practically fleeting, really. Humming sadly, the British girl looks down onto her lap, toying with her bracelets. “I don’t think she likes me much,” she mutters, wincing sheepishly.
Oscar frowns. “That’s not true…”
Lando frantically nods, feeling bad for Lily and her first encounter with you being a total bust. Come to think of it, ever since the blue eyed girl has been around, you’ve been quite distant. “She hasn’t been sleeping well.” Lie. “She just needs to recharge, that’s all.”
-
You end up spending the next few days locked up in yours and Lando’s room. You avoid the paddock at all costs because you’re really not in the mood to see anyone—especially her. The British driver tried his best to get you out from these four walls, but gave up shortly after you blamed it on a migraine. You haven’t had one of those in years, but he learns to respect your decision. You do promise to be there for his race, though.
And as expected, you see her. Sat perfectly with her legs crossed, the young girl beams, motioning for you to join her on the open chair. At first you act like you don’t see her, preferring to stay standing for the next few hours rather than being pushed up next to her, but when she calls your name, you curse beneath your breath before making your way.
“Hey,” you cheer, hugging her briefly before taking a seat.
A giggle. “Hey. I heard you’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.”
“Huh?”
Lily blinks. “Lando said—”
In one quick motion, you click your fingers, nodding along. Right—Lando had lied on your behalf. It completely slipped your mind. Letting out a muffled groan, you wince theatrically, hoping she buys it. She does, worry quickly taking over her gentle gaze. “I have, yeah, I have.” Cheer’s erupt as the camera pans over to the fan zone, then back to the drivers that line up for the National Anthem. “But I'm much better now!”
Her concern slowly melts away as she smiles. “That’s good to hear.”
You would have not traveled with Lando to this week's race if you had known she would be here. Usually, she’s not, but you almost feel as if you know everything about her from how much Oscar talks about her. It gets exhausting hearing the same stories being told over and over again, as if she was the best thing to come around. Was it really that hard to just not bring her up?
But alas, you are here, and so is she.
It feels like an eternity slowly goes by, so you’re quick to dart out the garage as you make your way towards the podium. The good thing is that she doesn’t need to because Oscar secured a lucky fourth place. Close, but not close enough.
Running towards you after a round of media, Lando pecks your lips. He smells like a mix of champagne and sweat, not a completely unpleasant scent. He wiggles his brows. “Proud?”
You grin, eyes crinkling just the same as his. “Super.” Another kiss. “You were great out there.”
A subtle shade of red burns his nose as he smiles widely, pulling you towards the direction of McLaren Hospitality, leaving you to follow him as you admire the way everyone looks at him the same way you do.
You like that he’s a winner. You like that you’re dating the winner. And that’s why you admire him, because he gives you the right to brag about him by simply being his girlfriend. The kind everyone wishes to be. Entering the familiar orange motorhome, you two are caught at a stop as soon as Zak calls out for Lando who turns curiously.
“My man!” he cheers, making you take a step back and letting them have their moment. You listen for the first few minutes, but when it looks like the congratulatory might run deep, you claim a seat on the nearby sofa, scrolling through your phone to kill time. At some point, you look up to see them bid goodbye, sighing tiredly as you make your way up. Zak grins from ear to ear, pointing at you with nothing but radiant energy. “See you there!”
With that, he walks away, leaving you two alone once again. Raising a sharp brow, you tap Lando’s shoulder with confusion. “What does he mean by that?”
“He’s rented a yacht for the team to celebrate today's win,” he explains, guiding you towards the privacy of his room with a large hand on your lower back. “You know him—he likes to go all out.”
You hum, still walking up in front of him. “I figured you would want to go clubbing…”
There’s a cloudy sigh behind you as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I mean, yeah, I do, but we should probably skip that and do this instead.” Reaching to twist the knob, you pause, turning to face him with a surprised expression. “What?”
“Nothing,” you respond, shaking your head. “Look at you maturing. You see, my Lando would have never preferred a classy yacht party instead of a trashy club.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’ve changed.”
“Right,” you tease, finally opening the door, but as soon as you do, the room next to you squeaks, indicating someone exiting. Oscar and Lily come to a halt as soon as they spot you both. Your lips open in the smallest of gaps as they smile politely.
“Congratulations,” the British girl is the first to break the silence as she goes in for a quick side hug, one that Lando accepts without missing a beat. “You must be over the moon.”
“I am,” your boyfriend lets out, still not used to the feeling of being first. A beat. “Hey, did Zak mention anything about—”
“The yacht party?” Oscar fills in with a loopy grin. Lando snickers, nodding at his guess. He shakes his head. “Yeah, but we can’t. I have to drive Lily to the airport.”
Intrigued by the fact, your brows dart up. “Ah, no way—you’re leaving already?”
“Yeah,” she says, smiling tiredly. “I have a few tests lined up for next week, and I can’t miss them.”
“Shame,” you hum, but the relief of not having her around anymore makes you feel a thousand times lighter. “I was going to suggest grabbing dinner next week…”
“Really?” Lando and Lily question in sync, both equally as surprised as one another. On the flipside, Oscar stands with an unrecognizable expression, making you avoid even looking at him because something about it somehow convinces you that he can see right past your lie.
Coughing awkwardly, you bob your head, catching the glimmer in her blue eyes as she holds her breath, almost. Something about it makes you feel bad, but just for a split second. “Yes, really, but it looks like we got a bit unlucky.”
Swiftly, Lily turns to face Oscar with a helpless expression, as if pleading for aid, but for him it was an easy decision. “You can’t skip out on exams,” he whispers lowly, but still clear enough for you to hear. “You know that.”
And sure—she does—but ever since she got here, she’s felt so out of place. Not with the team, not with two McLaren drivers as a duo, but rather with you. And now this? Any opportunity to have you as a friend is as good as gold in her eyes.
And to be quite honest, you didn’t expect for someone as truthful as Lily to lie to their professor in a lengthy email, claiming to be severely down with the flu in order to stay a couple extra days and catch that unpromising dinner you had made up as some way to get her to think you’d miss not having her around. This was your reality and you just had to deal with it.
But Oscar?
Watching you carefully as you hug Lily back when she leaps with excitement into your arms, he squints with subtle suspicion in your character. Something in your rigidness and mannequin smile makes him want to pull the British girl away from you, feeling the need to protect his girlfriend's innocence.
Smiling softly over her shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Oscar, making your stomach churn. His eyes remain on you for a second longer before sharing a smile of his own.
Yup, you think to yourself.
He knows.
_
A week goes by at a snail's place.
The four of you fly together to the next continent with nothing but fake enthusiasm. Well, fake from you, and unbeknownst, fake from Oscar, too.
He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust you completely. In hindsight, you haven’t done anything wrong, but everytime you and Lily are together—which is most of the week—it feels like you have. Maybe it had something to do with the sinister glares you’d send her way when you thought no one was looking, or the fact that you’d have to take a heavy breath in preparation every time she’d greet you with a warm hug. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was seeing something that wasn’t there, but that doesn’t mean he’d be at ease for the rest of the week.
Hence, dinner.
You find yourself forced to make a reservation at one of the fanciest cuisine restaurants close to where you’re staying and that itself was annoying. You shouldn’t be doing any of this—she shouldn’t even be here.
Smiling gingerly, the British girl let out a small giggle at some joke Lando made. By the looks of it, it’s pretty funny, so you numbly follow her lead, though you have yet to know what it was. “You must be laughing all the time,” Lily notes, blue eyes focused on you with wonder. You hum, pursing your lips with uncertainty. She giggles harder. “Well because of how funny he is.”
Lando claps once, making you flinch in return. “Thank you! It’s about damn time someone appreciates my humor.”
“I do appreciate it,” you defend, slowly losing your patience. Licking your lips, you look back towards Lily who remains with a smile. “Don’t listen to him, he just likes the attention.”
“That I can agree on,” Oscar adds, cracking a grin of his own. Suddenly, you’re all into the discussion. The Australian sneers childishly. “You can’t seem to live a single moment without making things about yourself.”
“Oscar,” Lily warns, faint pink painting her pale skin. “Be nice.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Lando says, waving her off like it’s no big deal—which it’s not. He leans back against his chair, flipping his teammate off who scoffs lightheartedly. “This is how we talk. Right, Osc?”
“Right.”
Somewhere in between dessert, while you’re in the middle of licking your spoon clean, the invitation that came to ruin your life, comes up. Lily clears her throat nervously, suddenly worried by the thought of you turning her down. “I was meaning to ask…” Puzzled, you keep your eyes on her, awaiting her next words. She shrugs sheepishly. “Well, I graduate this summer, and Oscar is throwing me a party up in North Carolina…” She trails off, gathering her words. “I was wondering if you two would like to come?”
“Oh,” Lando's voice comes through like a muffle, mouth full of cheesecake. He swallows, blue eyes flickering between the couple and his girlfriend who remains with a blank expression, metal spoon still in place. “I mean—yeah. Right?”
Unfreezing, you place the utensil down onto your plate, smiling weakly. “Uh…yeah.” Lily grins, letting out a breath of relief, making Oscar frown over the realization that your response mattered so much to her. You nod robotically. “Sure, why not?”
“Great!” Lily cheers, beaming like a kid on Christmas Day. “And don’t worry about spending on a hotel—we’ve got you covered.”
You blink, bewildered. “You do?”
She nods. “Of course, we do! You’re our guests, you’ll be staying with us.”
Your boyfriend smiles faintly. “That’s kind of you, but it’s really no problem. We wouldn’t want to overcrowd.”
“Nonsense,” the Australian speaks up, shaking his head, brown strands of hair swinging in the slightest. “We have plenty of room. All of our family and friends are already staying in the hotel nearby—it’d be nice to have a bit of company.” His eyes soften, making your heart beat a little faster. “What do you say?”
It feels like he’s looking directly at you—chocolate orbs as sweet as can be. As if nothing else exists in this moment if it’s not you or him. But in reality, his attention is focused on your boyfriend, awaiting his response.
Not yours.
Flustered, you poke Lando’s leg beneath the table, hoping he takes the hint. Blue eyes flicker towards your direction for a millisecond before returning with a nod. “Looks like you have two roomies.”
Lily squeals, smiling brightly as Oscar’s lips remain in a thin line, his version of a smile.
And if he could turn back time…
He really fucking would.
-
Once the season ends, everyone is on a high. Lando for coming in second in the Driver’s Championship and for bringing in the Constructors Championship for the first time in years, and Oscar for the latter. Regardless, it was an outstanding season for the two of them.
You and the Brit end up flying in a few days later due to going back home to pack a few more necessities, but once you’ve got that all figured out, you find yourselves in the middle of a heatstroke, making you second guess all your life's choices all at once.
“It feels as if my skin’s melting off,” you groan, fanning yourself with the roadmap, because as it came, satellites are utter shit when it comes to where you’re staying. Lando tries to convince you that having no internet for a few weeks isn’t all that bad, but as soon as a twenty minute drive turns into a one hour drive due to getting lost without the guidance of a GPS, he regrets his words. You roll your eyes, narrating as he finally pulls up to the driveway of what appears to be the best looking house in all of North Carolina.
He whistles. “If it weren’t so hot during the summer, I’d definitely move here.”
Scoffing, you exit the car rental, looking up at the navy blue house where green ivy hangs. “We are not moving here. I’d rather die.”
“Fair,” he mumbles as he makes his way towards the front door, you right on his heels. Swinging the door open, you two are instantly hit with the fresh gust of air. “Thank God,” Lando moans, loving the fact that the AC is the only thing preventing him from fainting.
Pushing him in, you make sure to close the door behind you as you shut your eyes with sweet relief. Somewhere towards the end of the hall, you hear shoes squeak against the wooden tiles. Lily waves, hair up in a similar ponytail as yours, as she smiles as warm as the weather that nearly cost you your life. “You made it!”
“We sure did,” you respond, gritting your teeth in order to prevent yourself from letting out some snarky remark. Not that she deserves it, of course she doesn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Pointing back towards the wooden door, you wince apologetically. “Sorry to barge in. Someone didn’t bother knocking.”
Lando makes a face, then turns to the blue eyed girl with a playful smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Lily?”
She shakes her head, pursuing her lips with delight. “Not at all. We left it open knowing you two would show up. We’ve been fixing the guest bedroom for the past hour and we didn’t want to run the risk of not hearing you knock, so…I guess it all worked out just fine.”
“See? Lily says it worked out just fine,” your boyfriend says smugly as you roll your eyes, not at all impressed with his sudden cockines. “Where is Oscar, by the way?”
Lily signals upstairs, then blushes. “Do you mind helping me grab a few things from the car, Lando?” A shy chuckle. “It’s just we went out for some party essentials last night, but we were too tired to bring them in, and the box is too heavy, and Oscar is pretty busy, and I’d hate to bother him, and—”
“Sure,” Lando cuts off her rambling. “That way I can grab our suitcases, too.”
“Fantastic,” she hoots, dusting her hands against her shorts as she grabs a set of car keys from the kitchen table. Turning to you, she grimaces. “Do you mind checking up on Oscar?”
Your plump lips part, a line of dehydration hung upon them. “I would, but I should help Lando—”
“It’s okay,” your boyfriend fills in. “I’ve got it all under control.”
Lily pleads silently, brows drawn in together. “You’d really be doing me a favor. It’s just that he was in the middle of fixing the duvet and he tends to run out of patience if he doesn’t get it right away.” A chuckle. “Please?”
Which is how you find yourself in a room, alone with the one person you probably shouldn’t be alone with, but find yourself wishing that were always the case. Alone with one another, that is. Gently knocking on the already open door feels like the right thing to do, so you do just that. Alerted by the sound, the Australian’s head jerks up, brown eyes caught against yours.
You tilt your head slightly, like some greet. “Lily sent me,” you find yourself explaining as he sighs, resting on the unmade bed. Leaning against the doorframe, you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say next.
He huffs. “Of course she did.” A snort. “Sorry your room still isn’t ready. It's just that, I, uh…can't seem to get this right,” he admits, shyly scratching the back of his neck as he motions towards the unmade mess. “Lily always helps, but she’s a bit busy right now, and I'd hate to bother her, and—”
“I can help.”
A pause, then: “Oh, don't worry, you don't need to do that. You’re our guests.”
Chuckling, you shake your head, already making a move to grab the sheets. Taking hold of one corner, you signal for him to do the same, the Australian instantly catching on and taking hold of the opposite side. Aligning it, you look up at him, watching as he focuses on your hands and repeats the order. You smile, going for more and doing it all over again. Once it's perfectly laid out, you take a step back. “Not too shabby.”
“Huh,” he muttered, blinking with amazement. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” you say, fixing the mountain of pillows before taking it in with a gentle smile. “Lando’s excited to be here.”
Oscar looks up, neat brows raising. “Is he?”
“Mhm,” you hum, finally connecting your gaze to his. From this distance—close—you note the faint trace of cologne that hugs him, along with a thin layer of sweat. Grinding your molars, you fume silently within you as you catch it—her perfume. You wonder how close she had to have been in order for it to imprint on him, but as soon as you ponder for too long about it, you shake your head, acting as if you’re brushing away some invisible dust. “He’s looking forward to jet skiing.”
A deep chuckle. Pressing his back against the wall, he crosses his arm, giving you a clear view of his muscles that pulse like the world's biggest temptation. If you had the chance—just one—you’d kiss them the way you've fantasized for so long now.
He opens his mouth, about to say something that's going to change everything amongst you two, but bails at the last minute, shaking his head as if he barely caught himself. Intrigued, you raise a neat brow. “What's wrong?” you ask, feeling far too curious.
Oscar tsks. “No, uh, it's nothing.” A beat, then he looks up, squinting his eyes skeptically, as if you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out. He's looking at you the same way he did that day you lied about planning the dinner, and that itself makes your stomach dip. Suddenly, you're not as interested in finding out what he has to say anymore. “Lily loves you, you know that?”
Not what you were expecting. “She does?”
“Yeah…” he mumbles, orbs still trained on you. You want him to look away—you need him to look away. Pink lips curl into something of a scoff. The Australian’s eyes darken, making you freeze with trepidation. “She thinks you’re great.” Opening his arms like some grand gesture, he motions towards the lively room. “I mean, look at her. She’s trying her best to please you.”
Something about the way he says it makes you feel as if he’s not that fond of Lily’s behavior. As if you don’t deserve her kindness, even just a sprinkle of it. Pursing your lips, you rock against the heels of your feet. “And I appreciate that, I really do.” A hint of hesitation. “And I like Lily, as well—”
A raw chuckle. Blinking, you catch him shaking his head, brown eyes shut in disbelief, and when he opens them once again, it’s not that kind-hearted and easy-going Australian you’ve come to know—no. He’s broad, and cold, and guarded.
“No you don’t.”
You gulp, laughing awkwardly as you rub your forearm, feeling the heat of shame radiate off your body. “What are you talking about? She’s super sweet—”
“I never said she wasn’t,” he cuts you off again, this time a bit harsher. Enough to take a step back. Your heart races times a million at this point, palms moist with sweat. “I never said she wasn’t sweet—I don’t doubt that even for a second. But I know that you’re lying, and I know that you hate her.” A beat. “Why?”
“I do like her,” you continue to insist, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. “What makes you even think otherwise?”
“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” he says, accent sharper than usual. “Like you wish her the worst—I know what hate looks like.”
This time, you grab what’s left of your courage, and look at him straight in the eyes, not backing down. “Yeah? And what does hate look like?”
“You’re looking at it.”
It’s as if an ice cold bucket of water is thrown at you with no alert. His insinuation makes you want to recoil, but if you do, then he’d know he’s gotten to you, and if he gets to you, then he’ll figure the rest of it out.
“I’m sorry, that was rude.” He smiles tauntingly, inching close and tilting his head as he opens his mouth. “I just don’t like you, that’s all. I’m not cruel enough to hate.” Cruel. He’s calling you cruel. He knows, therefore, you’re cruel. The word itself shouldn’t affect you this much, but it does. Narrowing your eyes, you push him away, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he cocks his head in question with little to no surprise. “What? You don’t like hearing the truth of what you are? Did you really think you were a good person?”
“Look,” you finally speak, glaring. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but I don’t hate Lily. For God sakes, I barely even know her!”
“Exactly!” he shouts back, breaking. “Which is why I’m more than confused! What has she done to you?”
Have possession over you, you think to yourself as you pant, blink with defeat. I hate her because what she’s done to me is have possession over you, and that’s not fair.
“I—”
“Hey,” a soft voice melts into the room, Lily coming into view, cheeks flushed. “Is everything alright in here? We thought we heard yelling.”
Standing behind her, frowning over her shoulder, Lando stares with a lost expression. Everything indicates that there had been some sort of altercation, but the smiles you two wear are enough to try and convince them otherwise. Walking towards her, Oscar wraps his arm around her waist, pecking her temple as she blinks, still worried. “What? That’s absurd. We were simply talking. Weren’t we?”
It takes you a minute to register that he’s talking to you, so when you do answer, it’s nothing but a whisper. “Yeah… just, yeah.” You shake your head, blinking hastily. “We were just talking.”
“Are you sure?” Lando asks, pushing past the couple as he rushes to you, large hand grabbing your wrist softly as he looks at you. His gaze flickers momentarily toward Oscar, as if accusing him for doing something, in return, making the Australian frown for his sudden distrust. As if he’s the bad guy.
You nod, plump lips formed into a thin line. “Yup,” you say, attention flickering down to where Oscar keeps Lily secure against his touch. As if you’re the bad guy. You chuckle, shrugging. “He was thanking me for helping him do something so easy as setting a bed.”
Oscar clenches his jaw. “Yeah. Thanking you.”
Anyone who knows you, knows that you’re a decent human being. There’s not much to contradict that. But no one will ever know you the way you know yourself. Because if they did?
They’d find out that there was no one greedier….
Than you.
-
Dinner that night is homemade pizza. Lily followed a recipe.
It’s quite delicious, sure, and you’re able to make that note due to that one small bite you had before you ditch it for your mimosa. Lando tries to get you to eat, but you gently promise him that you’re just not that hungry. You see the way Oscar stares, feeling bad for his girlfriend who spent hours making this for you. She excuses herself, rushing towards the kitchen as the Australian apologizes, following after her.
Turning abruptly, the British boy huffs, causing commotion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”
“This again?” you groan. “I already told you—nothing. Drop it.”
“What’d he say to you?” he questions, a layer of curiosity making an appearance. “Did he say something to offend you?”
“No,” you hum against your glass. “He did not.”
“Did you say something to offend him?” he switches the inquiry, making you glare.
“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
Lando sighs, relaxing against his chair once again. He takes a bite, swallows, then takes another. “I get the sense that you’re keeping something from me—you’re not like that.”
Actually, you are. He just doesn’t know it. Placing a hand over his, you hum, calming him down as he connects his gaze onto yours, eyes as soft as jello. “He might’ve lost his temper on me a bit.”
“What?” he screeches, making you hush him.
“Let me finish,” you hiss. He nods, curls bouncing. “He couldn’t get the sheets to stay in place. Remember how Lily said he tends to lose patience because of that?” Another nod. You shrug. “Well, that was it. We just didn’t want you two to make a big deal out of nothing. Much like now,” you point out, spotting a subtle blush threatening his cheeks.
“Well, forgive me for looking out for you,” he sings. “I care, you know?”
“And I thank you for that, darling, but you can let go of it now, right?”
“Definitely.”
He doesn’t. Matter of fact, as soon as the couple makes their way back, it’s the first thing he brings up, teasing his teammate who blinks, confused, then: “Oh. Yeah. Right. I had a bit of a moment where I couldn’t get the…yeah. That was it.”
Lily rolls her blue eyes. “Didn’t I warn ya?”
You giggle. “You did, you really did.”
There isn’t much to do from that point on, the sun has set and the moon hangs as bright as headlights. Lando knocks out after a much needed shower, and while you can’t sleep with wet hair, you settle on fixing yourself up a tea now that it’s cooled down.
Walking barefoot towards the lake, you hum, finding peace with the way crickets sing. Blue, gentle waves sway back and forth as you look beyond, mind at peace. That is until you hear a small cough. Startled, you search for the culprit and you find him, laid down on the grass.
“Can’t sleep?”
Oscar sighs. “I’d rather not talk to you right now.”
“Or ever?” you offer, but he doesn’t find you humor all that entertaining. Making your way, you find a space next to him. “You can’t ignore me, you know that? We’re about to spend a month together. That, and you’re my boyfriend's teammate. I see you on track.”
He disregards the fact that you're right, sitting up instead, laying his arms over his bent knees. “What’s your game?”
“I don’t have one,” you say softly. “I’m just here to have fun—it’s summer.”
A scoff. “I’m serious—what do you want from us?”
There was a point in time when you first met the Australian where you remember thinking: this is a boy. His arms were twigs, his neck was small, and his fireproofs fit him loosely.
Fastword, a year later: everything has taken a turn. Oscar Piastri has matured, and now—now you want him.
“My parents had my sister three years after they had me.” Oscar cocks his head, puzzled as to why you’re telling him this. You continue, occasionally sipping on your tea. “And the months leading to her birth, they always told me how lucky I’d feel to have her once she was born. Then she was,” you say. “And you know what I felt?”
“Lucky?” he finds himself guessing quietly.
You shake your head, causing his brows to jump up with surprise. “I love her, I do, but I think that was the moment I realized I didn’t like to share. I wanted my parents to stay my parents, and not hers. I wanted my grandparents to stay my grandparents, and not hers. And…once we grew up and we were old enough to date—I wanted her boyfriends to like me more than they liked her.”
Quiet, his eyes linger with disgust. “I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want.” This time, you look at him, and it hits him all at once: you want him. You smile, like what you’re saying is funny and not fucked. A giggle. “You’re a smart individual, Oscar. Do you get what I’m saying?”
He does. And it makes his stomach knot.
“I’m in love with Lily,” he states, as if that will make you back off. “I’m. In. Love. With. Lily.”
But he can tell you don’t care. You never have, and you never will. And the fact that she has you is why you hate her. He sees that now.
Standing, your knees are at his eye level, forcing him to look away, forcing him to look up. You hold power in this stance, and he’s basically at your knees—worshiping you. He doesn’t like that. In one fast movement, he jumps up, towering over you, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter. And he realizes he can never win when it comes to you because it seems you like that too.
He gulps. You grin.
“Doesn't matter.”
-
You’re playing a dangerous game.
It starts early in the morning and ends late at night. At times, he feels like a kid hiding behind his mum's skirt, practically sticking to Lily like superglue, and normally she loves that, but with how busy she is with graduation, she pushes him off most times now. It’s always: Oscar, no or Oscar, what now? He can’t seem to get it right.
“Why don’t you go jet skiing with Lando?” you speak up and he finds it weird that you’re helping him out. The British girl nods. Yeah! Why don’t you? He doesn’t need to be told twice.
They come back with fresh sunburns and a couple new freckles. Lando’s curls are hard from the sea salt, so he gives you a quick kiss, running up stairs for a quick shower. He’s been having lots of those. Not even a minute later, Oscar goes on to do the same.
Somewhere along the line, you hear your name, and you know what that means. Rolling your eyes, you look over at the blue eyed girl. “I bet you he forgot his towels—”
I forgot my towels!
Giggling, Lily shakes her head, muttering ‘boys’, then signals towards her room. “I just washed some, you can grab them from our cabinet.”
“Thanks,” you chirp, making your way. While yours and Lando’s room sits at the far right side of the hall, Oscar’s and Lily’s is on the left. And you never meant to walk in on him, not at all, but you did.
Swinging the door open, you’re caught face to face with a shirtless Oscar, dying his wet hair with a blue towel. He freezes. “W-what are you doing here?” he stutters.
You try not to stare, you really do, but you can’t help it. His body is solid, chiseled, even. His skin is moist from lathering lotion and that’s enough to make your head spin. And yet, you don’t let him see that. Pushing past him, you dig your hand deep into the cabinet, pulling two fresh towels, similar to his. He frowns.
“Just grabbing towels for my boyfriend.” Smile. “See you.”
Is this how you get people to fall for you? By not seeming desperate? Because while he knows that you want him, you sure don’t show it, and that definitely confuses him.
That same night, you four are watching a movie in the living room. Cherry Falls to be exact. The entire way through, you’re curled into Lando’s chest under a blanket. On the other side of the long couch, Lily and Oscar sit as straight as can be, but his arm remains over her shoulder, keeping her safe.
You’re not jealous over something like that, but when she flinches during certain scenes and he comforts her, that gets you. “Hey,” you start, whispering into the Brit’s ear. Green eyes are stuck on the screen, nodding robotically. Yeah? You kiss his warm skin, making him jump. “Why don’t you and I go to bed?”
“Bed?” he asks, slow and unsure where you’re headed. “Already? But…we’re halfway through.” You yawn, rubbing a hand along his thigh. He blushes, impressed with how cool you’re able to play it. Coughing, he nods excitedly. “I think we’re done for the day,” he announces, a bit too loud.
Lily pauses the movie, tilting her head curiously. “Aw, but we’re halfway through…”
“I know,” you add, smiling apologetically. “But I’m just so tired.”
“As am I!” Lando cuts you off, voice squeaky. He shakes his head, blinking hastily, then clears his throat. “But please, don’t let us stop you from finishing the movie.”
“Yeah,” you quip, getting up, about to walk away when Lando reaches for your hips, keeping you in front of him. It doesn’t take much to feel his bulge pressed against your ass. He laughs awkwardly. “We still have that picnic tomorrow, don’t we?”
“We do,” Lily cheers, smiling widely. “Oh, I’m so excited!” Turning to face the Australian, who hasn’t said much up until now, just stares blankly, she taps his knee. “We should probably go to sleep, too.”
“No!” Lando yelps, blushing bright red as the blue eyed girl frowns. “Keep on watching. Keep the telly on. In fact…” He reaches for the control. “Turn up the volume.”
“Great idea,” Lily says, pursing her lips as the numbers go up on the screen. “Alright then, you two go rest.”
“Thank you,” you reply, walking carefully in front of the British boy who still tries his best to hide behind you, waving sheepishly. “See you in the morning!”
Oscar really underestimated how naive Lily can be. While she was wide-eyed enough to believe that you two were ready to knock out, he knew the truth. Pecking her cheek, he makes a stand, making his girlfriend pout. “Where are you going? I thought we were gonna finish the movie?”
“We are,” he promises, smiling gently. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom real quick. Be right back.”
Running up the stairs, two steps at a time, he rushes to your side of the hall, quickly identifying small moans. He stops dead in his tracks, heart stuck in his throat, and he doesn’t know why.
Fuck, baby, he hears Lando groan. Oscar grimaces, shutting his eyes with discomfort. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t have his ear pressed against the door, intruding in your guys’ private sex life.
He shouldn't be bothered so much. Or at all.
Lando, you whine, surely writhing with pleasure. The sound makes him break a sweat, makes his brain go fuzzy. He can’t even think properly. And he knows this is wrong—on so many levels—but what’s worse is that he wishes Lando were dead.
Skin to skin contact makes his jaw clench with anger. The fact that he knows what you feel like makes him want to barge in and rip you two apart. And it dawns on him—why does he care so much?
“No,” he mutters, taking a step back as if the door were made out of lava. He blinks hastily, shaking his head harshly until he feels his brain jump from side to side. “God, no…”
It’s official—you have his attention.
Without even making a move.
-
You feel his gaze on you. You don’t even have to look and see to know that it’s him and not Lando. Lando’s gaze doesn’t burn, but his? His zaps. Looking up from where you rested on the red gingham blanket Lily rolled onto the fresh grass, you squinted behind your glasses, making eye contact with the Australian.
You know you have him.
Reaching into your bag, you grab your sunscreen, squirting it onto your legs, making sure to lather it on in a teasing manner. You rub up and down, slow and steady. Briskly, he looks away, paying attention to his teammate who continues to ramble on and on about nothing in particular.
Not as particular as you.
“I love having you two around,” Lily says, ripping your gaze away like one would their band aid. She hums, gingerly fixing her floppy hat and motioning towards your sunscreen. Go right ahead. “Thank you,” she replies sweetly. A beat. “I have a favor to ask.” This get’s your attention. Furrowing your brows, you nod, urging her to continue. “So, I’m in a bit of a predicament.”
“What is it?”
Lily blushes, as if she’s too embarrassed to admit. “Remember how I skipped a few exams in order to extend my stay the first time we met? In order to have that dinner with both you and Lando?”
“Yeah,” you say, still uncertain about where this might possibly lead. “I think I do.”
She cringes. “I never took them.”
“What?”
“I know! And now my advisor is telling me I won’t be able to graduate if I don’t find a way to take them, and I don’t know what to do!” She groans, bumping the edge of her palm against her forehead. “Oh God, Oscar is going to be so mad at me.”
“Okay, calm down,” you soothe her. “Have you tried reaching out to your professor?”
“Not yet,” she mumbles, tears pooling the corner of her eyes, making you feel just a dash of pity. “Should I?”
“Yes,” you respond quickly. “You should. Ask them if there’s any way to take those exams. Say you’re sorry—like really sorry. They have to be able to tell that you never meant to skip out in the first place.”
“I didn’t,” she squeaks, voice wavering. “I’m not usually like this, but…” Her blue eyes flicker down to her lap, fingers playing nervously with the hem of her shirt. “I just really want to fix this and graduate on time. Everyone is counting on that!”
“You’re going to walk that stage, Lily, alright? You just need to keep your eye on the prize.” Sighing, you unlock your phone, handing it to her. “E-mail them right now.”
“O-okay,” she sutter, eyes softening. “Thank you for being such a great friend.”
You blink. “Oh. Yeah—anytime.”
She finds privacy back in the parking lot, leaving you alone with the boys deep in the horizon. It’s peak golden-hour, so they look significantly tan. You smile, lying back down, glasses hugging the curve of your nose. You’re halfway asleep at one point, but as soon as you feel a droplet fall onto you, you peek an eye open.
“Where’s Lily?” Oscar questions, furrowing his dark brows.
You roll your eyes. “She went to get something from the car.” She probably wouldn’t like Oscar knowing the truth, and you’re not one to tell it. You wave your hand dismissively. “Now move—you’re blocking the sun.”
Grinding his teeth, the Australian scoots, but his eyes remain down on you. You lay tan now, white bikini standing out against your skin. Brown eyes trails down your legs, spotting an ankle bracelet. He hums. “What’s it say?”
You sigh. “Could you be more specific?”
He kicks your feet, making you lean against your elbows, staring at him coldly. Noticing what he was referring to, you lick your lips. “It's the number four.”
“Four?” he asks plainly. “Why four?”
“I’m really trying to relax,” you spit, taking your sunglasses off and glaring. “You’d be doing me a huge favor if you just left me alone.”
Aren’t you supposed to want him? Aren’t you the one who's supposed to be chasing after him?
The tips of his ears burn bright red, and not from the sun. Seeing as he wasn’t leaving, you let out a heavy breath. “He asked me out on April fourth—fourth month, fourth day. His racing number is four.” You make a face. “Do you get it or do you need further explanation?”
He ignores the dig. “Why an ankle bracelet, though? Why not a ring or a necklace?”
Your red lips part open, then close. His guts twist with jealousy once he comes to the realization. The reason it’s an ankle bracelet its so that anytime he fucks you, legs dangled over his shoulders, he could admire it. Seeing as he figured it out without having you respond makes you blush.
“Ankle bracelets are my favorite.”
His eyes darken. “You know what? Next time you two fuck, why don’t you moan a little less loud?”
Your neat brows lift up with surprise. “How are you so sure we already did?”
He pauses, clearly caught on spying. He swallows. “You sound like a pornstar.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” You laugh. “Lando doesn’t seem to mind. In fact…” Biting down on your bottom lip, you blink innocently up at him as his breathing pattern becomes uneven. “He fucking loves it.”
God—what were you doing to him?
Just as he’s about to speak, Lando calls out for him and Lily calls out for you. Where are the beers, mate? The Australian spins back and lets out a lousy smile. “On it, give me a second!”
As he turns again, you’re already up on your feet, adjusting your bikini and throwing Lando’s shirt over your head. The sight alone irks Oscar more than he’d like to admit. “I should go see what Lily needs,” you sing teasingly. Spinning on your heels, you stop, cocking your head to the side and giving him one last glance. “Oh, and Oscar?”
You point down to his hard on imprinted on his short. Horrified, heat rushes to his cheeks.
“Don't get so excited over nothing.”
-
What appears to be the first time in her life, Lily lies to Oscar.
They need some last minute measurements for my cap and gown, she explains, puffing her cheeks as if the thought of flying back home is too much of a tassel, and not a necessity—she has to go back and take her exams. She had received an extension, but the only catch was that she had to take them in person, as originally planned. I’ll be back in a week.
The Australian tries to tag along with his girlfriend because the thought of being left alone to third wheel a couple who probably fucks 24/7 is too unbearble. But as expected, Lily declines, claiming it’d be rude for both hostesses to leave their guests behind. And all would’ve been fine if Lando’s father hadn't broken his clavicle playing rugby.
“Do you really have to leave?” you sigh, zipping his suitcase.
He nods. “Mum would kill me if I didn't show up.”
“I’ll miss you.”
A soft smile. Pecking your lips, his thumb rubs against your cheek lovingly. “I’ll be back before you know it. Time will fly by.”
Which is how you and Oscar find yourselves sharing a large house with a million desires. He's quick to note that you have a thing for summer dresses—and so does he, apparently. Jaw clenched, he carefully watches as you cut up a variety of fruit, humming as you prepare yourself a plate. You hum a soft melody, making him more and more intrigued to know what it was.
“Love in the Morning. Ennio Morricone,” he hears you say, munching on a slice of watermelon, walking towards the living room. There, on T.V., plays an unknown reality show, but he's not paying much attention, either way. No, his gaze is stuck on you, focused on the way you stretch your legs onto the coffee table, the rest of your upper body resting against the comfy couch. You swallow, reaching for a piece of mango. “One of my favorite instrumentals.”
It's one of his, too, and not because he knows it by heart, but because you do. Because you sound so beautiful, like a siren, when you hum it. He wonders if you're aware of the power you hold. Though, the way you ignore him lets him know that you do.
Against the sunlight, the one that peeks through the open window and summer skies, your ankle bracelet shines, blinding him, almost. He feels his chest grow tight—so much so, that it hurts to breathe regularly—and he has to remind himself that this isn’t normal—this isn’t normal.
Since when did you matter this much to him? Since when did you affect him this much?
Without a second thought, he claims a spot next to you on the couch, reaching for a berry and popping it in his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, somehow satisfied by this small action of his. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
You blink, caught off guard. In all your time of knowing the Australian, he never once bothered to get to know you—really get to know you. He never cared, not even in the slightest. But now, in a turn of events, he does. Squinting suspiciously—teasingly—you shake your head, vanilla perfume radiating off your skin.
“No.”
His lips turn downwards. “No?”
“No,” you repeat, flipping through the channels, pretending he wasn’t even there. A click. “Why should I?”
Because suddenly, you’re the only one in my mind.
He bites down on his tongue, tasting a hint of blood. “I’m not into you, don’t flatter yourself.”
“I never said you were,” you say, a bored tone evident.
Oscar’s hands get clammy, thankful for having them pressed against his lap. Maybe he can still make a run for it. To his room. Back to Australia. He doesn’t even care where, exactly, but far, far, far from you. That way, he wouldn’t feel so grossed out in wanting to know more about his teammate's girlfriend. The one whom he never thought about once before this trip. And how can he even defend his honor?
You got into his head.
You don’t register what he’s doing—not instantly, at least—but before you know it, he’s pushing your legs off the coffee table, claiming a seat there, instead. Now, rather than having a clear view of the television, you have one of him. Large and desperate and perfect.
He narrows his eyes, sharp and threatening. “Are you glad that both Lily and Lando are gone?”
“Nope,” you respond, popping the p. “Why would I?”
Why would you? Geez, who really knows? Oh, maybe because now you have me all to yourself, and isn’t that what you wanted all along? Why don’t you want me anymore?
Slightly grinning, Oscar lets out a raw chuckle, making you want to jump onto his thick lap and lick up his neck. You bet it’d taste like salt and cologne, but the mere thought sounds like a dream. A wild, wild dream.
“I know you think about me.”
Zero reaction. Unimpressed, you push your bottom lip out, wagging your index finger at him before pressing it against his cheek, making him pause because that alone makes his skin burn. You push, forcing a dimple before doing the last thing he’d ever thought you’d do.
Slap him.
He thinks he’s imagining it, and you didn’t just do that, but the smug look on your face and the sting on his lets him know that he isn’t picturing it, and you did just do that. You smile sweetly, standing and ditching your place right in front of him, making your way towards the stairs.
“Get a life, Oscar. Not everything is about you.”
You like to mess with people’s sanity. That must be it because—what the fuck is wrong with you?
First, you insinuate lusting over him. Later, you put on a show for him every chance you get. And now? Now you toy with him, making him feel like the crazy one. And one thing’s for sure.
He is not crazy.
You barely have a foot up one stair when you’re pulled back, and before you know it, pushed down to sit on the step, the Australian kneeled down in front of you. You breath hitches, eyes as wide as cherry pies. His brows are drawn in softly, a pink tint dusting his ears like some shy teen.
“Maybe not—but everything is about you.”
You always knew you’d get him, and you knew exactly how you’d do it. You’d plant the seed and have him come running to you. It always works. I mean, it’s how you got Lando, after all.
But Lando was a want. Oscar is a need.
With his knees still glued onto the ground, the brunette leans down and kisses your ankle, laying his lips flat as you gasp softly, feeling the familiar bracelet dig into your skin.
“Tell me you think about me too,” he whispers pathetically—fragile. Another kiss, this time up your calf. “What do I have to do in order to get you to say it?”
“You’re insane,” you mumble, orbs stuck on the top of his head, shaggy hair hanging loosely before he looks up at you, past his lashes. Butterflies erupt.
Up your thigh, he licks you, tasting your lotion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the bitter taste. “Come on—I want you.” He sucks, forming a purple bruise. “Don’t you want me, too?”
You do. You fucking crave every piece of him. But you can’t let him know that. And you really do try your best to fight him off, but as soon as he starts curling his fist around your small dress, you’re just as good as gone.
A tiny moan rings through the air, then a pant follows. He’s barely even touched you and he’s already knocked the air straight from your lungs.
“I d-do, Oscar.” Whine. “I do want you.”
And just like that—he’s taken whatever power you were claiming onto—back.
Letting go of your dress, he chuckles, enjoying your out of breath state, and standing, making you feel small as you blink, confused as to why he stopped.
Dark eyes glint sinisterly as he kicks your open legs together, not too hard, but still enough to make you jolt with surprise, leaning your elbows up against the step, brows furrowed.
A beat. “You really are a pretty little thing.”
And with that, he walks away, leaving you to feel abandoned.
-
It’s a brutal game of tug-of-war. One where both of your guys’ hands are burning from trying not to be the first to let go.
The first to admit defeat.
Though, it seems like the days grow longer, your dresses fall shorter, and his mind is hazier. All of which is making it more difficult to keep a distance. That is, until Lily FaceTimes Oscar.
“I need you to buy some flowers.”
Mid-bite, his teeth push down on his apple, eyes glued on her. He pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand. “Won’t they dry out before the party?”
She shakes her head, highlighting what looks to be a set of notes. “That's why you're going to get carnations. They last longer.”
“Is that so?” he entertains, smiling gently when she bites down on her marker, brows furrowed as she reads her piece of paper. Throwing away what's left of his fruit, he hums. “Alright, I’ll take care of it tomorrow, don't worry.”
“Oh no, tomorrow won’t work. You have to do it today.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because she's only available today. She's going dress shopping tomorrow.”
He doesn't even have to ask who she is because he already knows. Shaking his head adamantly, the Australian rejects her idea before it even has a chance to lift off the ground. “I could do it myself,” he snaps, his usually tranquilent voice coming out a bit harsher than intended. And it’s not like him. He never, ever, speaks to Lily this way. So, obviously, it surprises her, a wounded expression mapping out immediately.
And she could have been mad. She really could have been mad—but she wasn’t. “Is everything okay?” she asks carefully, as if walking on eggshells. It makes him feel like shit. “What's wrong, Oscar?”
“I…” His tongue goes numb. The vivid image of you looking at him, like you hold him in the palm of your hand, comes through. And he doesn’t completely hate it, not right away. But once the British girl hums softly through the phone, he’s ashamed. “I just wish you were here. I miss you.”
A beat, then: I love you.
You had not been the biggest fan of going floral shopping with Oscar, either. Quite frankly, you didn't think being with him for hours on end was a good idea. At least, here in the house, you could escape, but out in the open, your chances were ironically not that good. Where would you run off to if you depended on him for a ride back?
Yet, you found yourself saying yes, and you didn’t know why. You had no clue why you felt the need to help her out. You had no clue why you felt a certain way towards her all of sudden.
You had no clue when Lily Zneimer—the girl you're supposed to hate—was someone you saw as a friend.
It was a tough pill to swallow, because on one hand, you were still attracted to her boyfriend. But on the other hand, you suddenly had self-control. You didn't want to ruin their relationship anymore. You didn't want to lose her amity.
You were trying to be better.
“Ready?”
Looking up from your book, you nod. “Let me just go grab my sunglasses.”
As he watches you run upstairs, he feels something—different. From your end, that is. As if something has shifted. But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because before he knows it, you’re back.
The car is quiet and his music can barely even be heard, but nothing is far more awkward than the tension between you two. It’s suffocating, so much so, you roll down the window. He makes a noise, making you tilt your head to look at him. He’s frowning. “It’s a hundred degree’s out, roll it back up. I can turn on the AC.”
You don’t utter a single word, just follow his instructions. He finds that weird. See, usually, you’d be doing something to get him hot and bothered, but these days you seem to be playing it safe. If anything, he should be thankful. He should be glad that you’ve left him alone for whatever reason.
But now he wants in on your game.
“How’d you meet Lando?”
“Don’t. We don’t have to talk.”
He ignores you. “I met Lily in school. She was in the class next to mine and I used to think she was the most beautiful girl in the world.” His mind panics as soon as he realizes what he’s just said, but you don’t seem to have done the same. A cough. “How’d you meet Lando?”
Seeing as he probably wasn’t going to let this go unless you answer his question, you sigh, twisting your body and adjusting yourself to have a good view of him. Like this, you can count every mole on his skin if you really wanted to, but you don’t. “I never really met Lando, per se. I just always…knew him, I guess.” His brows furrowed and you chuckle. “We grew up as neighbors.”
“You did?” he asks, brows jumping up with shock. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah,” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip. “He was my sister’s boyfriend for two years.” This shouldn’t surprise him. Coming to a red light, he turns to look at you, fighting the urge to show any kind of reaction, he doesn’t want to scare you off. You look away, wincing. “I knew what I was ruining the moment he and I started talking behind her back, and I did it anyway.”
“So…they were still dating?”
Nod. “She caught us locked up in the bathroom. There really wasn’t any explanation to that.” Green flashes as you point numbly and he steps on the gas once again. “And you know what? I didn’t even feel all that bad, and you want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I got what I wanted.”
I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want, that is.
Your words from nights ago replay inside his overly crowded mind, making it pound like a sore thumb. His lips open, but he has nothing to say, and it appears you’re done talking, too. Or so he thought.
“Oscar…” you whisper. “I can’t taint another relationship.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw slacked. You don’t want him anymore. You want nothing to do with him. Shouldn’t he be pleased? Shouldn’t he be ecstatic that your diabolical plan has expired? One you never admitted to, but still.
So then why does he feel let down?
“Lily is great,” you continue, eyes closed as you nod gingerly. “She’s the best, and she deserves the friend she thinks she has.”
“Except you two aren’t friends.”
You blink. “Wh-wha—yes we are. What are you talking about?”
He grits his teeth. “You two aren’t friends. You could never be.”
This gets a rise out of you. Straightening your back, your brows pinch together with offense. “And why not?”
“Because.”
“Because?” You scoff, not impressed by his bland response. “We can’t be friends simply ‘because’?”
Switching lanes, he huffs, spotting pink carnations in his rear view mirror. You had chosen those on Lily’s behalf. He didn’t really care at the moment, but now he wishes you had gone with white. What were you two arguing about again?
Spotting the familiar blue house, he lets out a breath, pulling into the driveway, quickly putting the car in park, and turning off the ignition. This almost makes you back down because suddenly his sole focus is on you, not the road.
“You’re on my mind.”
Oh. Biting down onto your bottom lip, you shake your head. “I’m n—”
“Yes,” he says, firmly, reaching for your hands and pulling them up to his mouth, kissing them over and over. “You are and you know it.”
“Oscar, no…” you let out, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens. A crazed look colors his irises as his chest rises fast, up and down, as if he’s close to hyperventilating. Bewildered, your lips turn to a downward spiral. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”
“Yes, I do!” he yelps, voice cracking as you stare with shock. “You did this to me, you got in my head on purpose!”
“I didn’t do anything!” you squeal, frightened by his tone. “Did I tell you that I wanted you?”
“You implied it,” he defends rapidly, pleading with eyes for you to show any signs of recollection. “What changed?”
“I already told you,” you snap, this time using all your power to yank your hands back. “I don’t want to be this way anymore. I can’t.”
Silence.
Slow breaths explore the car as he stares blankly. “That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t fair?” you hiss, aiming a glare.
Oscar shakes his head, flinging his door open and hopping out, leaving you dumbfounded as you watch him go. Unbuckling yourself, you make a beeline for him, barely even reaching him as you tug on his shirt, making him turn back with a dark look in his eyes. Your heart nearly flat lines from how scared you are of him from this point of view.
“What isn’t fair, huh?” you ask, trying to sound brave, but there’s a slight tremble in your voice.
Glowering down on you, the Australian’s lips form a slow smile, almost in a sinister way. Mocking, too. He chuckles to himself. “You like to have your own fun, don’t you?” Your shoulders drop, taking a clumsy step back, but he takes a dominating one forward. “Yeah…you do. You get to knead your fingers into someone’s brain until all they can think about is you, and once they do, you’re out.” Pause. “It’s no longer fun.”
“That’s not—” You let out a shaky breath, wincing at his accuracy. “Where are you going with this?”
Oscar shrugs, broad shoulders going up before falling sourly. “I’m gonna do the same.”
You freeze, stomach twisting with trepidation. “Huh?”
He nods, clicking his tongue. “How come you only get to have your fun?” He leans down, coming eye level with you, and narrowing his gaze until you see his iris dilate. Something about that sends a shiver down your spine. “Why can’t I do the same, too?”
Taking a step back, he makes sure to send a sly smile, the kind that lets you see he has a hidden dimple. He sighs as he steps into the house, forcing you to watch him go with a smug reaction and leaving you with a poor one. Last minute, he turns around, inclining against the doorframe, making him appear larger than the world.
Oscar squints teasingly.
“I’m going to have you begging me to fuck you.”
-
There was a moment in the past week where you nearly fell for it—almost.
It happened one morning, and all he had done was walk into the house, all big and sweaty. He had just come back from a run.
“Excuse me,” he says, reaching over to grab a glass from the cabinet, intending to pour himself a bit of water. A certain warmth radiates off him and you feel it cling onto you immediately, pushing you towards him. You physically have to stop yourself.
Pursing your lips, you move, allowing him to easily grab what he needs. Without a single thank you, he hums, the cool water tasting heavenly. The way his Adam’s Apple juts up and down makes you want to scream, looking away as rub your eyes fiercely. He smiles, setting the glass down. “I need your opinion on something.”
“What is it?” you ask, still not looking. Maybe you should leave to go buy your dress for the party. Time is running out, and you have nothing. Though, at this point, you didn't want to be here anymore.
“It's about Lily’s graduation gift. Should I get her a necklace with her birthstone, or—”
An ankle bracelet with my number on it?
Immediately, you turn to face him, cheekbones beet red and a slight twitch in your eyes, those that are now dark and looming. Satisfaction plays a role in his features as he stares innocently. “I was leaning towards the ankle bracelet. I really do think you and Lando are onto something.”
“What’s your game?” you ask, bitterness evident in your tone. Your question takes him back to when he was the one asking it. To you. Neat brows furrow with anticipation.
The brunette shrugs. “I don't have one. I'm just here to have fun.” He smirks. “It's summer—isn't it?”
This is all a bad case of deja vu, one you don't find appealing. How dare he ask you something like this with a dirty smile on his face? The look is just the right amount of disgusting, and the right amount of intriguing.
He was getting to you.
Clicking your tongue, you roll your eyes. “Whatever your plan is—stop it.” Pointing a finger, you shake your head firmly. “Because it's not going to work on me.”
“It’s not?” he asks, closing the gap and towering over you dangerously so. He sees the way your breathing becomes a tad bit irregular, letting him know that this was working, no matter how much you denied it. “Because you’re a better friend now? Because you got one taste of loyalty and now you've decided to be loyal to yourself?” A large hand reaches for your chin, forcing your head to tilt back and look up at him. And you hate how handsome he is in an infuriating moment like this. “People don't change overnight. I doubt you'd be the first.”
Old habits die hard, but over time, and he's right. You're still the same avaricious girl as yesterday.
Pushing his thumb against the corner of your lips, you instinctively open your mouth, making room. A soft smile tugs at his own lips as his eyes admire your lipstick coating his finger. Slowly, he eases the digit in, feeling your wet tongue hug it. And then, suck.
“Fuck,” he groans beneath his shaggy breath, brown orbs not wanting to miss a single second of this. Humming, your vibrations send a chill down his spine, finding it harder to not bend you over amd just fuck you into oblivion. But no—he had to hear you say it.
Pink tongue laps around his thumb, doe eyes blinking prettily, lashes fluttering like butterflies. Instant jealousy enters the room as his mind begins to race with the fact that Lando has probably had you like this millions of times. He pushes down on your tongue, making you whine and bite down. And he doesn't even flinch.
“Tell me you want me…” His brows knit with need. “The same way I want you. Please, just—say it.”
Without warning, you bite down hard, this time getting a reaction out of him as he grunts with pain, and you push him away harshly until his back pounds against the nearest wall, letting out a loud thud.
“Let me tell you one thing, Oscar,” you start, strolling over to him like a fallen angel. Today you wear a white dress, clung to your body like a glove, allowing him to see every curve of yours, in return, making his palms sweat. You grin, reaching him. “You won't ever see me begging for anyone—especially you.” His stomach drops. “No matter how much I want this to happen, too.”
Are you willing to get down on your knees and supplicate?
The answer is an obvious one for him: yes. He’d spend hours at your feet if that meant having you, for even just a second. Normally, he isn't this submissive, nor this desperate, but it seems like only you bring this side out of him. He doesn't entirely hate it.
“Ye—”
Ring! Ring!
Sighing, you walk up to your phone that sits on the nearest counter, and pick it up. “Hi, baby,” you greet sweetly. “How’s Adam?”
Ring! Ring!
Digging into his back pocket, he curses, picking up. “Hello, darling,” he says warmly, making you flicker your gaze over at him with accusation. “How’s everything going?”
Turns out, Adam’s bone wasn't actually broken and Lily had aced her exams. She ended up telling Oscar the truth, to which he was surprised she had kept it hidden from him for so long, but was far more surprised when she told him that you knew. Long story short, by some twist of fate, they’ll be back in the next couple of days. They land on the same day, so they’ll save the Australian the hassle and just drive in together.
“See you in a couple of days. Alright. Bye,” you say, rubbing your temples.
Oscar looks up, chewing the inside of his cheek before letting go. “I’ll see you, then. Fly safe.”
A moment passes by. “Did she tell you—”
“That they’re flying in together? Yeah. They were both in London, after all. It makes sense.”
“Sure,” you mumble, brushing a strand of hair away. “They land Wednesday, then?”
“Correct,” he says, nodding along. It’s already Monday, so that was…soon.
Too soon.
“I should probably start fixing up the arrangements,” you announce. “Lily asked me a couple of days ago, but I haven't gotten around to it. I just pray they haven't died yet.”
“They haven't,” he states, making you curl a brow. He smiles sheepishly. “Carnations last longer. Lily said so.”
“Of course,” you say, grinding your teeth. “Lily said so, so it must be true.”
Nothing more, nothing less. You just walk towards the flowers, and feel the irritation paint your silhouette, because as expected, Lily was right—like always.
Thing is, Oscar has come to learn your behavior. The way you tell a lie, the way you tell the truth. He's learned your body language, and right now, he can tell one thing for sure.
You never stopped hating Lily.
He smiles.
And that makes him happy. Because he knows this isn't over yet.
-
By Tuesday, the entire setup is ready. The flowers sit beautifully at every table, and the lights hang nicely around the trees. The sound of the lake singing is your only reminder that you could use a break. And apparently, it was also Oscar’s.
“The event decorators just left. But you did an excellent job with the florals,” he adds last minute.
A hum. “I tried my best.”
The dock creaks. The frog's ribbit. The crickets harmonize. And you two are too close to one another. Your shoulders brush, making you flinch and for him to cough awkwardly. “Despite everything, I had fun having you around. A summer well spent, don't you think?”
With a deadpan expression, you turn to look at him, making him laugh, and the corners of your lips fight back a smile. You haven't heard him laugh in so long, you come to realize. In all sincerity, that is. “It was alright,” you respond, shrugging it off as if nothing. “But yeah. I had fun, too.”
Fun teasing each other. Fun trying to get each other to crack. But fun, nonetheless.
And he thinks: if not now, when? You don't know at what moment he catches you off guard, but he does, because in a single second, he's kissing with urgency. Like he's never kissed anyone before and he was making sure to get it right. And it was more than right. Heat pools in between your legs as you try your best to keep up with him, but the taste of cheap beer makes you get high on life. Since when is he much of a drinker?
Since you.
The good thing is that the entrance back to the house isn't that far, so your guys’ tumble is pretty successful. Though, you don't make it to either’ bedroom, but rather the couch, where a bunch of disposables lay. Lily had them shipped a couple days ago. Says she wants as many pictures as possible, savor the memories for a lifetime.
Without any precaution, he wipes his arms across the cushion, sending the cameras to crash against the floor and throwing you onto the couch, smiling once you squeal with excitement. All except one camera—but neither of you notice that yet.
Your soft hair lays around you like a halo, making him wonder if he’s gone straight to heaven. You gesture him to come in closer, and he’s quick to obey, diving for your neck. You giggle, a lazy hand finding its way into his locks. “No marks,” you pant, squirming as he licks a line down your throat before going up towards your lips.
“No marks,” he confirms. “On your neck.”
You pause momentarily, disattaching your mouth from his. “No marks anywhere.” He grins, nodding just because. You frown. “I’m serious, Oscar.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “Sure.”
Then, he’s on his knees, kissing your ankle like that one time on the stairs, except now, he’s taking it nice and slow. Steady. Your mind grows dizzy as he grazes his fingers gently down your skin. It sends goosebumps, seeing him like this. So…submissive.
“I never wanted you,” he whispers as he presses his pink lips onto your left ankle this time. He hums. “You were just another girl to me. My teammate’s girlfriend—that’s it.” Another kiss. “You never crossed my mind, not even once.”
And now…
Making his way up, he kisses in between your thighs, nuzzling into your warmth. You let out a weak moan, chest rising raggedly. Playing with his earlobe, you massage it gently as you try your best not to ruin this moment. Though it seems like nothing could. Not when he’s devoted to it already. And so were you.
Feeling a slight burn, you furrow your brows as you spot him sucking gently against your inner thighs. You squirm, pushing his head away as he keeps his position. “I said no marks.”
And you actually feel his smile start to spread against your skin.
“He won’t see these, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Another suck, this time harder. “Well…unless you want him to. Then that’s your decision.” Looking past his lashes, he bites down on the flesh, making you flinch. “So what? Are you gonna let him see how someone else has fucked you while he was gone?”
Pulling your panties to the side, he dips his tongue into your pussy, making your hips fly off the couch, and for him to push them back down, holding you in place. Sloppily, he kisses it—practically making out—and groans like a madman with the way you taste. Your sweet nectar makes his cock grow hard instantaneously, and he can’t help but grind against the edge of the cushion where your legs hang.
“Holy.” Whine. “Fucking.” Moan. “Shit.” Groan.
Twisting with an obscene amount of pleasure, you tangle a shaky hand through his hair, ignoring how soft it feels. The need to run away and stay is a confusing pattern, but as soon as he adds a finger, curling it just the right amount, you let out a high pitched moan.
Just like that, Oscar, just like t-that.
Adding another digit, he picks up the pace of his tongue, drawing figure eights as the knot in your stomach burns brutally. You feel a white cloud surface over your eyes as they close, screwed shut as if that might help you last longer. But he knows what your body needs, and that itself was an alarming thing to realize.
With one last mewl, you finish all over his tongue as he licks you clean, not wasting a single drop. And the way you taste—makes him not want to go back to not knowing. With a smile filled with bliss, and that familiar afterglow, you giggle, nose scrunching like a bunny as your cheeks remain as red as a rose. The sight alone makes him struggle to comprehend that this is most likely a one time thing, and not something he’ll be able to relieve whenever he wants.
At the end of the day—you're not his.
But he can still reminisce about this moment from time to time.
Mid-giggle, a flash goes through as you come to a stop. Oscar grins, shaking the green disposable, showing it off. “Beautiful. You’re absolutely beautiful.”
Your breath hitches, his words tugging at your heart strings. You haven't experienced something like that in so long. Shaking your head, you push your dress down, climbing off the couch and pushing him to sit. “I like to play fair.” Sliding down to your wobbly knees, you shoot a gentle smirk, something that makes his cock grow painfully harder. “Let me take care of you, Oscar.”
Undoing his belt, you hurriedly unzip his jeans, fighting the urge to take him completely. You don’t, though. No, you first kiss the tip, making him groan, feeling as if pushing you head down is a good idea. Then, you suck at a comfortable speed, like a baby sucking their thumb, and watch past your lashes how his chest begins to rise slowly.
“You’re huge,” you hum, pecking it. “How am I gonna fit you into my small mouth?”
Moaning, the brunette drags a hand over his tired expression, faking a smile. “You’re saying you can’t?”
You suck harder, still treating it like a lollipop. Licking his tip like a kitten licks their bowl clean. It’s starting to cut his patience thin. “I can figure it out…”
I’ve done it with Lando. How much harder can this be?
That’s it. Pushing the back of your head, he forces you to deepthroat him, keeping you in place as you drool on either side of his lap, soft gurgles coming through. You try to push off him, but it seems like that makes him shove you down twice as hard.
“Something to say, baby?” he pants under his breath, raising a brow. “What was that?”
Slapping his thigh, tapping out, you find yourself being pulled off of him, dragged onto his lap as in one swift movement, he pushes your panties to the side once again and thrusts his thick cock deep inside of you. So much happens so fast that you barely have a chance to adjust to his girth.
“Does Lando make you feel half as much as I make you feel?”
He’s not talking about sex. It hasn’t been about sex for a while now.
Moaning, you bounce up and down, your hair hanging like a curtain as you give your best to keep up with him and his rhythm. But he practically controls you, snapping his hips up with anger. At least, that’s what it feels like.
“Does he make you feel good?”
“Yes,” you sigh against his ear as you clutch an arm around his shoulder, keeping as steady as possible. “He does.”
But you make me feel better.
The sound of your praise does something to him, something inexplicable. And while he can’t quite put a name to it, he does know that you’re telling the truth. You had to be.
Again, pulling you off his swollen cock, he flips you around, having you use him as a chair as he squeezes his girth into your tight pussy, strong arms looping under your legs and spreading them open as he abuses your cunt, feeling your head fall back as you gasp.
“F-fuck,” you shriek, head bopping with each thrust, and your throat growing dry. “Fuck me—fuck me.”
“I’m trying,” he chuckles, continuing as you try your best to understand how he was able to learn that he knew how to do all this. “Look at you. Just…look at you.”
There comes a time of life where someone is meant for you, and you’ll find your way to each other, no matter what. He’d like to think that it’s true. Sure. It is. But have you ever thought that maybe it’s not?
Maybe the person you think you’re supposed to be with is busy thinking the same thing as you? Living a full life with someone else who isn’t their soulmate? Romantically, that is.
Lando and Lily. They’re both place holders. They’re nice, yeah, and they’re amazing, too—but that’s about it.
You hold his entire destiny.
He just wants to live by it.
But the way he has you—it’s temporary. And nothing good ever lasts forever. But God, he really fucking wishes it did.
Close, he hears you whisper, followed by a squeal as he holds your legs up higher, still fucking you in the same position. So, so close.
“Not. Yet.”
Hauling you off, you’re quick to whine, feeling empty as he spreads you onto the couch, admiring your glistening lips. He presses a thumb down against your bud, feeling the pulse that enlightens him to smile. You copy him, toying with your dress.
“Should I—”
“Keep it,” he says firmly. A beat. “Please. Keep it.”
When you nod, your hair only gets tangled against the cushion, but that’s the least of your worries. You frown. “You haven’t cum yet…”
“I will, don’t worry.” Silence. Pushing this thumb inside, you squirm, wincing slightly as your eyes remain on him, waiting for his next move. “Open.”
Opening your legs wider, he chuckles, shaking his head. Your mouth. You gulp, then open wide as he hums, bringing his wet finger into your mouth, making you taste yourselves. And normally, you’d be grossed out. God, you don’t let Lando even do this, but something about Oscar makes you feel okay. That, and like a pathetic freak.
“Good, no?” It’s an awkward thing to ask, you can’t help but blush against his digit, lashes fluttering. The Australian tsks, pressing his large finger against your tongue as your eyes grow wide. “Right?”
In a heartbeat, you nod because it just felt like the right thing to do. Satisfied, he smiles, taking another photo of this beautiful sight. Your eyes are round and full of life, and slightly teary, and that’s what he likes to see.
Retracting his thumb, he smirks. He makes room for both of you on this small couch, towering over you and he starts raising both your legs over your shoulders. Your stomach twists.
“I wanna see it when I fuck you.”
With your dresses scrunched up, and his cock cutting you in half, you both moan in sync as the wet sounds echo through the hall of the empty house. And this wouldn’t have happened—probably ever—if you hadn’t accepted their invitation to spend the summer in North fucking Carolina.
The number four dangles, and not only is the sounder a reminder that it’s there, but he can spot it from his peripheral vision every time he pounds into you a little harder. And he should be jealous—God knows that’s true—but surprisingly, he’s not.
Because he’s heard the way Lando fucks you. And nothing—nothing—compares to now.
It feels as if he’s practiced moves like this for a lifetime. As if he were to promise you that this could all work out, then you’d believe him.
You really would.
A sloppy thrust. “I never wanted you to begin with,” he grunts, screwing his eyes shut as your body reacts to his harsh confession. “I saw you with Lando, and I felt absolutely nothing. I had Lily to focus on. But God—what have you done to me?”
His tip seems to find your g-spot as you cry out, withering around. “I was taught to respect others. To respect what’s theirs. Whether that be a journal, or a remote control car, it didn’t matter. But you do,” he confesses, watching as you continue to whimper, probably not catching any of this anymore. “You did this to me…”
You filled me with greed.
Grabbing your ankles, he lurches them over his left shoulder as he continues to pound into your tight cunt, hearing you gasp before erupting into a string of moans.
“Now, everything he has, I want.” You whine. “I’m going after his Championship.” You whine louder, eyes opening as you watch a bead of sweat roll down his nose. “I’m going after his team.”
Oscar chuckles darkly. “And I’d love to say that I’m going after you, but hey…looks like I already have you.”
And just like that, the pit in your stomach bursts as you two clash against one another, your orgasms riding out together as your legs finally fall, but not before he makes sure to press a gentle kiss.
A flash.
“Really?” you ask, glaring.
“Stick your tongue out.”
Without any questions, where you lay, you open your mouth, watching as he stands up to tower over you, jerking his cock one last time as his drops of cum fall against your tongue, white and thick.
Your eyes flicker with excitement as he makes sure to take a picture. If he can’t have you later, or probably ever again, then he’ll make sure that he gets an angle of you that only he could ever dream of years down the line.
Pulling his pants back up, he makes sure to clean you up before making you sit, him only a few inches away, but honestly, it feels like miles. All of a sudden, he’s distant, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does.
Biting down onto your wobbly lip, you comb your fingers through your hair—you’re doing your own after care.
“I know things with us won't ever be the same, but…” You wince. “Please don’t treat Lando any differently. He sees you as a brother.”
He flinches because he knows it's true. Of course it is, everybody knows it. Oscar nods in agreement. “Only if you promise to stop hating Lily.”
You snort. “Sure. Sounds fair.”
The sound of tires is what ultimately gets your two to spring up, rushing towards the window as you look onto the driveway. Laughing, you first see Lily, then Lando, then you frantically twist your heels to face the Australian who remains with a blank expression, clearly not expecting them.
“They were supposed to be here tomorrow, you said!” you hiss, rubbing your temples. “What the fuck?”
“They must’ve upgraded their tickets to get here sooner,” he shoots back, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He grimaces. “Hurry! Help me pick up the disposables from the floor!”
“Right!” you screech, running toward the living room as you fall onto your knees, picking up the cameras and tossing them back onto the couch. Oscar does the same, but with his eyes stuck in the door, waiting for a knock.
Knock! Knock!
Freezing, you two look at each other, as if debating whether to make a run for it together or not. Though, as soon as you hear Lando call out for you, you’re sure you have no chance. Taking one last glance at the pile of cameras, you huff, skipping towards the door, fixing your knot up hair as best as possible.
“Hey!” you greet, nearly over exaggerating, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he beams, grinning from ear to ear. Lando pecks your lips, lingering for a moment, making your heart drop. Because he can’t know—can he? Distancing himself, he wears a subtle frown, sort of there, sort of not, so you’re quick to smile. “I’m so happy you’re back.” You turn to face Lily, who’s stayed in the background, letting you have your moment. “That you’re both back.”
“It's nice seeing you, too,” she says before her eyes wander to a place behind you. Suddenly, her eyes twinkle as she grins at Oscar who comes closer with lips drawn into a firm line. “Look who just woke up from a nap.” Kissing his cheek swiftly, she tippy toes, fixing his messy hair into a neat comb over. “You look as if you got into some kind of bar fight.”
“Yeah,” Lando hums, looking over at you with dark eyes. “It sort of does…”
“We were fixing the outside tables—”
“We were fixing the floral arrangements—”
Lily and Lando quirk a glance at each other, then back towards you and Oscar whose faces are flushed. Oscar coughs, scratching the back of his neck. “Why don’t you guys come and check it out?”
“Yes, please!” Lily squeals, already making her way out the door, the Australian not that far behind.
Sighing, you go on to follow as well, but there’s this hold on your wrist that just won’t let go. You spin, staring at Lando who clenches his jaw.
“Did you fuck him?”
You flinch. “No—I didn’t.”
Blue eyes fill with warning as he nods, silently thinking to himself before rubbing his chin harshly. “Don’t lie to me. I know what you’re capable of.”
This physically makes you feel sick, ashamed that he knows you for being a lying cheater. “You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, wishing to take it back as soon as it comes out. He raises a brow, clearly surprised. You gulp. “You’re capable of doing the same thing as me, aren’t you? Isn’t that why we’re together?”
“We’re together because I love you.”
“Yeah, well, I love you, too. I’ve literally given up the relationship I had with my sister—for you.” Taking his hands into yours, you knit your brows together softly, and just like that, he melts. “I love you, Lando. There's no need for anyone else.”
Looking past the clear window, Oscar stares at you and the Brit, who share a hug, taking occasional loving pecks as if nothing else matters.
As if his feelings aren't worth anything.
“I love it,” Lily says, ripping his gaze from getting hurt any further. Because that’s what this has all led to —him getting hurt. She grins happily, making her way closer. “I really appreciate you two working on this together, it all looks so wonderful.”
Guilt makes his tongue trip as he tries to say something, but when all fails, he settles with a warm smile, pulling her against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I’d do anything for you, Lily Zneimer.”
With your head resting on Lando’s shoulders, you look out to where the couple stand, in the same embrace. This makes your eyes sting, which is silly because—why do you feel so invalidated?
Despite being so far apart, you and Oscar are still able to connect, looking at each other with a certain yearning. This is not what this was supposed to be. The Australian would have never dreamt of any other girl that wasn’t Lily, so what happened?
“I love you,” Lando mumbles, securing his hold on you.
“I love you,” Lily mumbles, face pressed against his heart, feeling it thump fiercely.
You spare Oscar a smile, and Oscar spares you the same. And neither of you two can bring yourselves to lie.
So, instead, neither of you say it back.
-
It all comes crashing down on you one Sunday morning.
By now, Lily has graduated, summer is over, and you’re back in Monaco. And for some reason, Lando offered to help get Lily’s picture’s developed. He knew a guy who’d get him a nice discount, apparently. Film is expensive as it is, so of course the British girl accepted.
You’re sitting outside on the balcony. It’s windy today, and you should probably go back inside, but the ocean looks particularly blue today, so you decide to stay.
Curling yourself tighter with your blanket, you sigh, staring numbly, mind racing. Because this is a daily occurrence now.
All. You. Think. About. Is. Him.
Him and his obnoxious smile. Him and his warm brown eyes. Him and his chuckle that sounds dry to everyone else, but lively to you.
Just…him.
And without a doubt, Lando has figured out that something was wrong with you, but he never asked questions.
Until now.
“Hey,” he says, plopping down next to you, pressing his lips against your temple quickly before smiling. “Have you been here all day?”
You blush, shivering by the sudden breeze. “If I say no, would you believe me?”
“Yes,” he admits, clicking his tongue. “Because apparently I believe almost everything you have to say.”
Including your lies.
You hear him, but his voice is muffled by now with all that you’re feeling. He handed you an envelope, and you first opened it with curiosity, then with dread and shame when you realized what was inside.
The film.
You’re laughing, eyes shut with delight.
Your lips are wrapped around his thumb.
Around his cock, too.
Drops of cum lay flat on your tongue.
One where his head is beneath your dress.
One of his hands wrapped around your ankles, a certain number four glimmering.
All of this, and more.
Licking your lips repeatedly, you sit up, staring at him with an open mouth. “Lando—”
“I’m not mad.”
You blink.
He shrugs, taking the pictures, making you want to snatch them back and figure out what to do with them yourself. How could you and Oscar forget to set this one aside?
He can tell that you’re mortified, so he sends a reassuring smile, but it does no good. “I’m not, alright? I’m just…disappointed.” His reaction is confusing, he can tell what you’re thinking. Why is he so okay with this? “I’m not the biggest fan of you lying to me, but whatever, it’s fine.”
“And sure, I should be furious that you two went behind my back, and maybe I am—but I’m willing to let it go because I love you.” The blue eyed boy pecks your lips, you still frozen with shock. He chuckles. “This is what I get, right? This is my karma? For sleeping with you while I was still dating your sister?”
When you still don’t say anything, he nods to himself, as if this is all making sense to him, and only him. “Must be.” A beat. “I forgive you.”
“What about him?” you squeak, scared of his response.
Lando clenches his jaw before breaking into a helpless smile. “He doesn’t have to know, I know. This will just remain between you and I—just like always. He doesn’t have to know. Lily doesn’t have to know.”
You hold yourself from crying because in a way, he’s right. Out of everyone, Lily Zneimer doesn’t deserve any of this. She has been nothing but good to you, and you’re embarrassed to notice now that you ruined a perfectly good friendship. And while she may have no clue, you do, and that’s enough for you to probably wince every time you look at her from now on.
“Just don’t do it again. M’kay?”
Rubbing his thumb against your lips, it’s almost like he’s waiting for something, but when you don’t seem to do whatever he was thinking, his eyes darken, and he gets up with a bitter smile.
He takes the pictures with him and you don’t know what for.
⟶ summary: you only had two goals for the summer: travel around europe and forget the last four years of your life but then you met sungchan; once on a plane, again in a club and then finally on the grid. you didn’t mean to fall for formula 1’s rising star…it kind of just happened.
❀ genre: summer love, fast burn, strangers to lovers
❀ staring: jurin (22)- xg, sungchan (23)- riize, anton (21)- riize, eunseok (24)- riize, brief mentions of actual f1 drivers such as: lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, yuki tsunoda and max verstappen.
⟶ what to expect: fluff, suggestive jokes, mentions of blowjobs, profanity, invasion of privacy, online bullying, romance, inaccuracy in race dates, mentions of actual f1 drivers (lando norris, yuki tsunoda, george russel, charles leclerc). this is the smau version of a longer fic that has yet to be posted.
✎୭: happy race sunday to all my f1 girlies <3
jungsungchan • 34 min ago
liked by charles_leclerc, antonity, and 378,237 others
jungsungchan miami you were a dream! thank you to everyone who made this win possible. silverstone next 🇬🇧
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user1 SUNGCHAN WILL WIN SILVERSTONE
user2 ferrari on top ❤️
user3 pls just one (1) chance 🙏🏻
yourusername • 5 min ago
liked by jurin.asaya and 200 others
yourusername airport pics ft jurin
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jurin.asaya out of all the pics 😭
⤷yourusername u look like a cutie patootie
sohee have fun in london losers
⤷yourusername thank u !! 🇬🇧
⤷jurin.asaya sohee i’ll bring u back smth cute
yourusername •15 min ago
liked by jurin.asaya, sohee and 257 others
yourusername first few days in london with my lover
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jurin.asaya 🇬🇧
sohee lovely day innit?
⤷yourusername chip chip cherry-o
⤷sohee erm idk if that’s right
jurin.asaya •4 min ago
liked by yourusername, sohee, ohpolly and 6,472 others
jurin.asaya pretty face, no waist and a big bank or whatever flo milli said
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ohpolly looking stunning as always ♥︎ by author
sohee caption creds ??
⤷jurin.asaya no. hope that helps 🙏🏻
user1 red looks good on you 😘
yourusername shawty where did you go??😭
yourusername •18 min ago
liked by jruin.asaya, user1 and 217 others
yourusername race weekend #teampapaya (?)
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jurin.asaya remove the question mark today you support mclaren
⤷yourusername ask nicely pls
sohee praying ferrari wins and humbles jurin 🙏🏻
⤷yourusername take it back she’s raging
jurin.asaya anton and lando WILL get p1 and p2🙏🏻
⤷yourusername whatever that means
jungsungchan • 10 min ago
liked by yukitsunoda0511, shotaroosaki25, and 872,954 others
jungsungchan forza ferrari ! silverstone was a hard track but we were able to bring it home with p1 and and p2.
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user1 FORZA FERRARI
user2 i used to pray for ferrari double podium 😭🙏🏾
user3 rookie of the year
user4 i wonder if paddocktea will post about the girl who came out of his drivers room🤔
⤷user5 he was alone though ?
charles_leclerc good job today mate ! ♥︎ by author
antonity great race! coming for your sport next week in barcelona ♥︎ by author
⤷jungsungchan in your dreams maybe 🤣
⤷user6 pls i love their friendship
yourusername dawg jurin is going to kill me😭
paddocktea • 10 min ago
liked by user1, user2 and others
paddocktea allegedly ferrari’s golden boy sungchan might be off the market ! multiple fans spotted a girl coming out of his drivers garage last race weekend at silverstone and sources say he’s been glued to his phone ever since. what do you think, is there a new wag? 👀
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user1 pls this is a reach
user2 anything that keeps him at the top of the grid😭
user3 what’s her @?
user4 congrats to whoever’s riding it
jungsungchan • 8 min ago
liked by yourusername, eunseoksong, and 748,230 others
jungsungchan 📸 dump
view all 19,927 comments
user1 any news of when you’re moving to mercedes king 🙏
user2 is what paddocktea posted true?
user3 day 762 of simping for this man
user4 pretty boy and his pretty friends
user5 where’s anton 😕
paddocktea looking good like always
user6 the rumors are true guys, he’s taken….by me❤️
⤷user7 delusion is a hell of a drug 😭🙏🏼
yourusername fits tough or whatever ♥︎ by author
⤷user8 help??? he liked this
⤷user9 how does it feel to live my dream 😭
⤷paddocktea ☕️
yourusername •1 min ago
liked by jruin.asaya, jungsungchan and 693 others
yourusername you're everything i ever dreamed of
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jurin.asaya i wonder who took these amazing pics 😍
⤷yourusername hehe pic creds jurin.asaya
sohee wonder who the caption is about 🤣
⤷yourusername u must have a death wish
user1 why is sungchan in her likes?
⤷user2 must have been an accident
user3 sungchan?? what are you doing here
yourusername where did all these people come from?😭
⤷user4 how do you know sungchan
⤷jurin.asaya i fear it might be time to go private yourusername
jungsungchan • 1 hour ago
liked by yourusername, jurin.asaya, and 556,119 others
jungsungchan paradise
view all 87,671 comments
user1 BOOM SHAKALAKA
user2 he looks so good 😩
antonity thanks for having us 🫡
⤷jungsungchan anytime mate
eunseoksong thanks big daddy😘
⤷jungsungchan blocked.
user3 are you dating
⤷user4 girl bye😭😭
⤷user5 just bc paddocktea post smth doesn’t make it true 💀
yourusername •31 min ago
liked by antonity, jurin.asaya, and 100,890 others
yourusername 🌊🐬
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user1 anton AND sungchan in the likes? oh who is youuu
user2 am i blind or is that sungchan in the second pic??
⤷user3 in what world is that sungchan😭
jurin.asaya not the matching posts
⤷yourusername i have no clue what you’re talking about
sohee pls private your account i fear for you 😭
⤷yourusername might have to bc 100k likes is ridiculous
user4 paddocktea is this her??
⤷yourusername oh hell no 😭
paddocktea • now
liked by user1, user2 and others
paddocktea looks like ferrari’s golden boy might be off the market for real this time. jung sungchan was spotted on a yacht in barcelona this week, where he was seen making out with a mystery girl on the upper deck very publicly, we might add. sources say the two have been glued to each other since silverstone and if the pics are anything to go by, he’s not hiding it anymore. are we witnessing the soft launch of the paddock’s newest it couple?
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user1 just fell to my knees in agony
user2 he could do so much better…
user3 man’s could date anyone and he chose a nobody like her? 💀
user4 calling it now she’s a clout chaser 🤷♀️
jurin.asaya nasty work.
sohee take this down.
user5 🤮
⤷ jurin.asaya says the one who has a face only their mom could love. this comment has been removed
scuderiaferrari • now
liked by antonity, charles_leclerc and 1,738,983 others
scuderiaferrari An unfortunate end to Jung Sungchan’s qualifying session today in Barcelona. Following a high-impact crash in Sector 3, Sungchan has been ruled out for Sunday’s race on medical grounds. The team is with him every step of the way. Forza, Sungchan—we race again soon.
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jungsungchan • 1 day ago
liked by yourusername, jurin.asaya, and 960,417 others
jungsungchan didn’t get the results we wanted at barcelona but we ride again this weekend in monaco
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user1 pls dump whoever she is so we get pole position again 😩
⤷user2 what a nasty spirited thing to say.
user3 break up with your girlfriend
user4 streets are saying they broke up 😭🙏🏼
⤷ user5 chat is this true
user6 no more distractions
user7 manifesting a ferrari 1-2 ❗️
user8 try not to crash today
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yourusername •25 min ago
liked by shotaroosaki25, jurin.asaya and 87,236 others
yourusername monaco how i love you
user1 clout chaser 🤮
user2 we don’t want you !!
user3 he’s out of your league
user4 the audacity to show up at monaco of all races
antonity happy to have you! ♥︎ by author
⤷yourusername happy to be here!
jurin.asaya turn off your comments before i get reported for bullying 😭
user5 not the homie hopping 🤢
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jungsungchan • 7 min ago
♫ ordinary - alex warren
liked by jurin.asaya, sohee, eunseoksong and 826,391 others
jungsungchan you got me kissing the ground of your sanctuary
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yourusername ❤️ 📌 comment
jurin.asaya officially lost my bestie to ferrari sick.
sohee soft launching as if the whole world doesn’t know who she is😭
⤷yourusername shhhh
user1 brodie has officially ruined his career for a slut😭
user2 kiss that ferrari seat goodbye 🤣
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yourusername •7 min ago
♫ until i found you - stephen Sanchez
liked by antonity, jungsungchan, sohee and 32,679 others
yourusername ❤️❤️❤️
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jungsungchan my girl 📌 comment
⤷yourusername forever and always
⤷antonity SIMP
user1 do the man a favor and break up with him.
user2 pls don’t break his heart 😭
user3 keep doing what you’re doing! i need my parlay to go through 😩
iwaizumi's favorite shirt is a faded old oversized godzilla tee that he's had since high school. the navy blue fabric has gone nearly threadbare in some places, the neck has certainly seen better days. and there's a finicky hole that needs to be re-sewn in one of the armpits before it gets too out of hand again.
oikawa, mattsun, and makki all learned the hard way at one point or another that one does not borrow iwaizumi's godzilla t-shirt—not even when one is camping and "iwa-chan, you're the only one who has a spare dry shirt left, and it's freezing out, you stingy bastard!"
so when you pad over to the front door early one fall morning to let the boys inside while iwaizumi finishes packing for their hike, you're met with several curious and somewhat dumbfounded stares when they see the shirt you're wearing as pajamas.
“IWA-CHAN, YOU FINALLY DID IT?!” oikawa calls out suddenly.
“does this mean i don’t have to keep it a secret anymore?” makki exhales in relief, fist-bumping mattsun.
“let me see the ring, he wouldn’t show me,” oikawa gestures impatiently toward your hand. “he’s had it for months.”
you blink in confusion. oikawa looks down at your very empty ring finger and also blinks in confusion.
“out. right now. all of you with your big, dumb, giant ugly mouths, get out,” iwaizumi barks from somewhere behind you.
it’s only once the front door swings shut and the entryway goes quiet that you finally turn around.
—and you find your boyfriend on one knee, his shirt halfway on and toothpaste smeared on his cheek.
“i did have this entire thing planned out for later tonight,” he sighs, smiling up at you, the diamond in his hand reflecting in the soft morning light.
(at the wedding, oikawa’s speech is a 5-minute monologue about how a 14-year-old iwaizumi once told him—after punching him in the face for trying to steal that very shirt from his closet—that the only other person he’d ever let wear it would be his future wife.)
boyfriend!heeseung x gn!reader
genre - fluff, bf heeseung, established relationship, basketball heeseung
wc - 1.3k
JAY 𐙚🧸ྀི
how you get the girl by @jaylver
ice hockey player!jay x fem!reader
genre - strangers to frenemies to lovers, fake dating au, college sports au, romance, fluff, angst, secret pining
wc - 21k
info: 90s!au, mark lee x reader, brothers best friend au, [playlist]
wc: 8.2k
warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing
June 1999
Summer meant finally being home again, it meant being back home with your older brother like you were kids again, walking along the hot sidewalk in flimsy flip flops, driving around in the passenger’s seat of Johnny’s old Ford Taurus that’s pushing 150,000 miles, music turned up to full volume, and visiting the record store he worked at for your special sibling discount.
Summer reminded you of the artificial flavored taste of the ice cream you always bought, red-tinted sunglasses, and late nights when the time changed and the sun was hesitant to set- like it was resisting the subdued transition to night, wanting to stay eternally bright, forever illuminating the activities of the slow, lazy summer day.
Johnny finishes his classes and finals earlier than you, arriving home two weeks before you do and calling from your house phone to brag about being the first one to experience your mother’s cooking again and the refreshing feeling of the chilled, chlorine filled water of your backyard pool.
When you finally arrive home, your brother is the first one to greet you. Johnny looks the same, except his hair is dyed a lighter caramel colored brown- rather than the black color he had when you last saw him in the winter, and it’s longer now, framing his face as he grins at you excitedly. A long white t-shirt hangs off his tall frame loosely, paired with old khakis and black, beat up vans as he embraces you warmly.
“You’re home,” he says, easily enveloping you. “So are you,” you laugh into his shoulder, realizing then how much you’ve missed your brother and the company of your family while you’ve been away at school. You break away, suddenly noticing the figure standing behind your brother. “Oh hey,” you smile at the familiar face peeking over Johnny’s shoulder.
SUMMARY! you’ve been in love with park wonbin since the day the two of you met and never found the courage to tell him. why is it that you find yourself yearning to confess the moment someone else comes into the picture?
PAIRING! park wonbin x fem!reader
GENRE! college!au, slice of life, fluff, angst (an attempt was made), friends to lovers, IDIOTS to lovers omg WC 8.1k
WARNING! swearing, jealousy, y/n likes wonbin an insane amount girl get up, insecurity, anton instigates like it’s his job and he’s up for a promotion, random female idol is mentioned many times (nothing against her!!), not proofread
NOTE! do u guys know what song the title is from lol.. LOL also i had another wonbin fic i wanted to post and deleted it bc it sucked so actually im posting this one as a coping mechanism
you don’t realize the way you’re staring at the back of wonbin’s head until a voice snaps you out of your trance. “do you know what you want?” shotaro asks you, waving a hand in front of your face.
currently, the two of you, along with wonbin, seunghan, and anton, are standing in line at a beverage kiosk. the latter, having already received his drink, stands to your right while shotaro stands to your left. seunghan recites his order to the employee while wonbin stands idly behind him.
“don’t even bother asking,” anton chortles, lips still wrapped around his straw. “she’s probably gonna have wonbin order for her, like always.” you lightly slap him in the arm after the words leave his mouth, eyes darting to the aforementioned boy standing merely 2 inches in front of you, hoping he hadn’t heard anton’s teasing.
“i didn’t even say anything wrong! he orders for you all the time!” the boy whines, jokingly rubbing his arm where you had hit him.
shotaro lets out a curt laugh at the interaction, knowing that anton’s words held truth to them, whether you liked to admit it or not. “it’s because she’s shy. right, y/n?” he turns to you, attempting to diffuse your embarrassment. one look at the smile on his face and anyone would be able to tell that his words were complete bullshit. the two of you knew that the real reason you liked having wonbin order for you was because you liked him.
however, for your own sake, you sigh and choose to agree with shotaro’s statement, only offering a small nod. “whatever,” anton mutters under his breath, walking over to seunghan who has his own beverage in hand.
now that you, shotaro and wonbin were the only people in line, shotaro grabs your sleeve and gently pulls you backwards, putting more distance between the two of you and the boy who was now placing his order. before shotaro says anything, you know what the topic of conversation is going to be.
“do you ever plan on telling him?” is all he inquires, his voice lowering to a whisper. you avoid his piercing gaze, instead turning to look at anton and seunghan, laughing in between sips of their respective drinks. anton is already nearly finished with his, you note.
when you’re done observing them, you shift your attention to wonbin, who has his arms crossed as he points at one of the cup sizes the kiosk has on display, indicating that it’s the one he wants.
you’re unable to see his face but you’re able to picture it better than anything. the way his lip quirks upwards in an attempt to be polite to the employee. the furrow of his brow as he asks a question.
shotaro sighs at your silence and finds it astonishing how you’re able to ogle wonbin without even looking at his face. that very sigh brings you back into reality, finally meeting the gaze of the boy currently interrogating you.
“he… doesn’t think of me that way,” you slowly tell him, as if the words would physically pain you if you uttered them too quickly. shotaro lets out a noise you can only assume was meant to be a scoff, but being passive aggressive simply doesn’t run in his blood.
“are you kiddi-“ shotaro is interrupted by wonbin holding a drink in front of your face, thus putting a barrier between the two of you. “here, y/n,” the long haired boy hums, not moving from his spot until you take the beverage filled plastic cup. if you didn’t have park wonbin tunnel vision, as shotaro likes to call it, you’d see the way anton is shaking his head and letting out a short laugh in disbelief upon witnessing the interaction. “called it,” he tells seunghan, who only blinks in confusion.
“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, but i remembered that time we went to that other drink place and you said you really liked the strawberry one, so i got you that,” wonbin explains, holding his own straw up to his mouth. he says it nonchalantly, as if you could either finish the drink in about 5 seconds before proclaiming how much you enjoyed it, or you could throw it to the ground and curse at him for assuming the flavor you wanted, and he wouldn’t flinch either way.
“um— yes— yeah, i..” you stutter, and shotaro swears it takes everything in him not to slap his own forehead at your sudden jumpiness. “i like it, thank you. you didn’t have to, wonbin,” you exhale, holding your drink with both hands.
“yeah, well, force of habit, you know?” the boy laughs. “since i’m always ordering for you anyway.” his words cause you to tense and you can just picture anton’s shit-eating grin after he heard what wonbin said. “right, yeah,” you nod, wanting the conversation to be over with. the 5 of you continue walking throughout the mall, seunghan complaining about what a ridiculous amount of time you had all just spent at that beverage kiosk.
“force of habit is crazy,” anton decides to tease you again, earning another slap on the arm. “stop hitting me!”
besides ordering drinks for you when you hadn’t requested for him to do so, anton has noticed that wonbin also tends to subconsciously let you get away with… a lot.
he doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he rolls his eyes when he walks into the living room and sees none other than you and wonbin, the latter seated on the carpeted floor while you’re situated on the couch behind him, playing with his hair.
“i shouldn’t have come in here,” he mutters, barely audible. he’s unsure if he wanted you and wonbin to hear him, but your head snaps in his direction nonetheless. “hey, anton,” you greet him despite knowing that he’d have a lot to say about your current position. he nods his head in acknowledgement before pursing his lips. you brace yourself for whatever comment he’ll inevitably make next, morphing your lips into a straight line.
“you know,” anton starts, and you’re already holding back the urge to groan. “wonbin never lets any of us touch his hair like that.”
“right, because you guys are always so eager to play with my hair, huh?” wonbin quips sarcastically. anton shrugs, although wonbin isn’t looking at him. “so you’re saying if we wanted to, we could?” anton questions, moving across the living room to grab his phone charger, finally remembering why he had walked into the room in the first place.
“nah,” wonbin replies, “not sure why you’d want to, anyway.”
“i don’t see you questioning why y/n wants to do it,” anton insists, already making his way out of the room, pausing momentarily to hear wonbin’s response.
“she doesn’t need a reason,” his older friend says, “she’s y/n.” anton shakes his head and continues on his way. you resume treading your hand through wonbin’s hair as if nothing had happened, but unbeknownst to the boy sitting in front of you, your heart rate had increased at his words.
“he’s just jealous,” wonbin jokes. you only let out a short laugh in response. you wonder how he would react if you informed him that anton had actually sprung up that conversation because he knows about your tremendous crush on the raven haired boy.
“do you think you’d ever go blonde?” you inquire, changing the subject. he lets out a snort and tilts his head to look back at you. you’re grinning, trying to ignore the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.
“i don’t think the world is ready for that,” he laughs.
“what are we laughing about in here?” a voice sings from the door way, ripping your attention away from wonbin. you turn to the perpetrator and lock eyes with sungchan, who sends you a smile. you wave at him and he takes it as an invitation to sit himself down on the couch beside you.
“nothing much,” wonbin answers. your hands finally retreat from his hair and you miss the way his shoulders slump in response.
“right,” sungchan nods, turning his attention to whatever you and wonbin are watching on tv. in actuality, neither you nor him have been paying the television any mind for at least an hour, and only now do you realize that some sort of ocean documentary has been playing this whole time.
a few minutes of silence proceed before sungchan clasps his hands together and stands up from the couch abruptly, startling you.
“man, this has been boring,” he announces, eyes darting between the two of you, seated in the same positions as when he first entered the room. “do you guys even talk?”
“we were, actually, before you walked in,” wonbin mutters, not meaning for his words to come out as sourly as they do. sungchan raises his hands in the air in defense. “hey, my bad. i didn’t realize the two of you were having an ocean documentary date,” he retorts.
“we’re not having-“ you’re about to correct him, only for him to cut you off.
“but, you know, bin,” he says, “i’m not sure how sangah would feel about you having a movie date with another girl.”
you feel like your entire world freezes over the moment you hear those words leave sungchan’s mouth. you quickly rid your face of your crestfallen expression, not wanting to give yourself away.
“who?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, and sungchan just stares at you. wonbin waves his hand dismissively, shaking his head in annoyance. “shut up, dude.”
“wait, y/n doesn’t know about sangah?” sungchan asks, a genuinely confused look crossing over his features. “i thought you guys told each other everything.”
wonbin groans in irritation. “i haven’t told anyone, actually, because it doesn’t matter. you only know because you’re nosy as fuck.”
sungchan chuckles, and you would attempt to let out a halfhearted laugh if you didn’t feel like your chest was aching. you lick your lips and stare questioningly at the side of wonbin’s head.
“look, bro,” sungchan gestures towards you, causing wonbin to turn around and meet your disheartened eyes. his face drops slightly, and you’re not in the correct headspace to try and pinpoint why. “she’s upset because you didn’t tell her!” his friend chimes.
wonbin shakes his head, still looking at you. “she’s just some girl,” he huffs. “i don’t even know her that well.”
you scoff before plastering a wobbly smile onto your face. “i’m not upset,” your voice quivers and you hope that wonbin doesn’t notice it. you’re not sure why he decides to reassure you about sangah— whoever that is— but you pray that it’s not because he’s known about your pathetic crush on him all this time and is now feeling bad for you because he’s currently seeing someone.
of course, only your cruel mind could formulate such a sickening thought.
“i’m just.. surprised,” you conclude with an unconvincing nod. wonbin closes his eyes in annoyance, and you know it’s because of his intrusive friend standing in the doorway. “sungchan, just stop spreading shit around, alright?” he gives him a tired look, finally getting up from the floor. as wonbin makes his way past sungchan in the doorway, the taller boy gives him a playful slap on the shoulder. with wonbin having left the room, you find yourself looking to sungchan with urgency.
“who is sangah?” you plead, trying to keep your emotions at bay. the boy furrows his eyebrows, confusion settling into his features once more. “why do you care, y/n?” he asks. you know that his question doesn’t come from a place of mockery, but rather genuine interest. it hits you in that moment that sungchan, as smart as he is, happens to be absolutely terrible at taking a hint.
somehow, when it came to the long lasting feelings you harbored for one of his closest friends, sungchan was none the wiser. you surmise that he wouldn’t have teased wonbin so openly about another girl had he known about your feelings for the long haired boy.
that, you suppose, you can’t really blame him for.
“um,” you start, “he’s one of my closest friends.” your words are spoken through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “i’m just curious, you know?” the lie comes out easier than you think it should’ve.
sungchan hums, crossing his arms and giving you a curt nod. “just some girl,” sungchan tells you, repeating wonbin’s words from a few minutes ago. “yoon sangah. she’s in our music fundamentals class. like, 2 days ago, i think, she wrote her instagram handle on a slip of paper and gave it to wonbin right in front of me.” your face falls for what seems like the millionth time in the past 10 minutes. you can only offer the tall boy a nearly inaudible hum in response.
“do you think it’ll lead to anything? you know, between her and wonbin?” again, you can’t stop yourself from asking. you feel sick at the thought of playing into the role of ‘jealous, overthinking girlfriend’, and even sicker at the fact that you and wonbin aren’t even dating. what right do you have to be inquisitive about his love life?
still, you can’t help it. when sungchan takes a bit longer to respond to your question you fear you’re treading on dangerous territory, afraid that even the dense boy you’re conversing with may have cracked the code. the grin that he aims at you a few seconds later serves as reassurance that, no, he still doesn’t know anything.
“that’s a good question, y/n dearest,” he pats your shoulder lightly. “i guess only time will tell.”
you hate yourself for what you’re doing right now.
looking back on the conversation you had with sungchan hours prior to this moment, you recalled him mentioning that sangah had given wonbin her instagram. thus, like any normal person would do in your situation, you took it upon yourself to go through wonbin’s following list in an attempt to find her.
you scroll past your own account, past the accounts of your mutual friends, and a few people who you presume are some of wonbin’s classmates.
when you finally stumble across sangah’s account, your body fills with dread before you even see a proper photo of her.
judging by her profile picture alone, you can tell that she’s pretty. you’re fully looking at her profile now, and your frown only deepens. she’s beautiful.
you shake your head as if it would help ease your racing mind. she’s beautiful, yes, you think, but looks aren’t everything. you find yourself childishly crossing your fingers that sangah had the personality of an evil witch, so that even if wonbin fell victim to her physical charm, he’d be pushed away by her true nature.
you let out a quiet scoff. you can’t believe you’re sitting here thinking badly about another girl just because she might have a crush on the same man you’ve been in love with since the day you met him. in the same sense, you can’t believe that when you say that sentence out loud, it actually sounds a bit reasonable. you blame sungchan, for a moment, drawing the inference that you wouldn’t feel so insecure right now if it hadn’t been for his previous teasing.
you can’t stop yourself when you click on one of sangah’s posts. she doesn’t have many, but the few that she has have seemed to gather thousands of likes. despite this, you take note of the fact that wonbin doesn’t have any of them liked— thank god, you think to yourself. you start to analyze her photos, the faces she makes at the camera, the outfits she wears, the way her hair is styled. when studying her facial expressions, you wonder if she’s made those same faces while looking at wonbin. when taking her outfits into consideration, you wonder if wonbin has seen her wearing any of them and thought she looked particularly nice. whilst examining her hair, you resist the urge to rip out your own. it’s perfect. she’s perfect.
she’s perfect, and from what you can tell, you aren’t anything like her. so what does that make you?
you move to close the app, feeling filled to the brim with self doubt when you suddenly freeze as your phone vibrates. you hesitantly open your dms and your eyes widen as they fall upon the newest message.
[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: why are u awake
your heart races and you momentarily contemplate if wonbin had somehow set up a security camera in your bedroom without your knowledge because how on earth did he know?
you don’t ponder on the matter for long, the aforementioned boy sending another message merely a few seconds later.
[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: u have ur activity status turned on btw
exhaling a breath of relief, you type a response to him.
[3:03 AM] you: why are U awake park wonbin
[3:03 AM] 1bin_02: i just woke up like 5 minutes ago. my y/n senses were tingling and my unconscious body felt a disturbance
[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: kiddinggg
[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: but fr why are u awake
you hold your breath as you type out your next response, choosing to be daring. you decide that, even if it’s only for a few seconds, you’re no longer going to be a coward.
[3:06 AM] you: i was thinking about u
[3:06 AM] 1bin_02: ditto
[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: i know im amazing and everything but don’t let me stop u from getting ur beauty rest 🙄 jk
[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: gn dummy
you decide against saying anything else, shutting off your phone with a sigh. you are a dummy, you think, and the boy who had just given you that title has no idea that it’s all because of him.
you’re exhausted the next day, concluding that being awake at 3 in the morning despite knowing that you had a class at 8AM was not the best idea.
wonbin is quick to take note of this, poking you on your side as the two of you follow your usual route to your next lecture of the day. “i bet someone regrets staying up until 3AM, hm?” he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as you swat his hand away. “like you weren’t up at 3AM, too,” you mutter. he clicks his tongue in response. “that was only for a few minutes,” he says, “who knows how long you were awake for, though.”
before you’re forced to dignify wonbin with a response, anton and seunghan walk up to the two of you, the latter offering a wave while the former only smiles.
“where are we headed, guys?” seunghan asks, throwing an arm around wonbin. the boy attempts to shrug him off to no avail. “anton and i wanted to go get drinks and we were wondering if you guys wanted to come with,” he grins before quietly adding, “and maybe also pay for them.”
you laugh and wonbin turns to you upon hearing it, letting out a playful scoff of his own. “can’t, y/n has class in 10 minutes or so,” he turns to the two boys who now have their eyebrows raised in apprehension. “that’s where we were headed,” he finishes.
“and you’re walking her there,” anton nods, his words posing as more of a statement than a question. you can only dramatically roll your eyes. wonbin doesn’t seem to pick up any undertones, only nodding in response. “i might be able to tag along afterwards, though. no promises.”
“well, anton,” seunghan sighs, turning to his friend, “we’ll just have to take shotaro inste-“
the boy is cut off by the sound of a girlish voice calling out wonbin’s name. all 4 of you turn around in unison, and you feel like your heart has physically sunken into the floor. sangah.
wonbin’s at a loss for words for a moment and you want to run away more than anything. you’re not prepared to see the two of them interact, especially after looking at her instagram page last night. “hey, sangah,” is all he says, a smile plastered on his face that pains you to look at.
the girl is practically beaming. “what are you up to?” she grins, her eyes not daring to look anywhere but him. his eyes flicker to you momentarily, who is struggling to breathe.
“i’m walking her—” he gestures to you and sangah finally looks away from him, eyes now trained on yours, “to class. well, i was, before these two showed up.” wonbin waves a hand in anton and seunghan’s direction, the two boys adorning matching confused expressions on their faces. nobody moves a muscle for a few seconds and you’re afraid that your rapid heartbeat can be heard atop of the pin-drop silence.
“oh! my bad,” wonbin clears his throat, “guys, this is sangah,” he gestures towards the girl, “sangah, this is… guys.” he gestures towards his friends. “and y/n,” he gestures towards you for the second time, giving you a tap on the shoulder for good measure. sangah’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and she reaches out to shake your hand. you’re positive that if it weren’t for the freezing hallways of your university, your hands would be sweating, so you silently thank whoever’s in charge of the ac for seemingly always having it cranked up to the max. you and the girl shake hands, her smile noticably brighter than yours.
“nice to meet you, y/n,” she says. “you, too,” is all you’re able to respond with, smile tight.
“nice to meet you guys, too,” she waves at anton and seunghan with both hands and they wave back, offering their own respective greetings in return. awkward.
you cough, attempting to break the silence. “this has been fun,” you press your lips together for a second, “but i’ve gotta get to class. hope you guys have fun at that drink place later, or whatever,” you trail off, the last part of your sentence aimed towards anton and seunghan. “and it was nice meeting you, again,” you add, making eye contact with sangah. she smiles. you don’t say anything to wonbin as you attempt to squeeze past him, but he grabs your arm. “i’m walking with you, remember?” he says. you resist the urge to look at sangah or anyone else in your vicinity for that matter, surprised at his words. this random girl who’s obviously into him is standing only a few inches away and wonbin still insists on walking you to class.
“it’s okay,” you shake your head, unsure. wonbin can tell that you’re beginning to feel upset and he desperately wishes that sangah and even seunghan and anton were anywhere but here. “y/n-“ he starts, you cut him off. “it’s fine, wonbin,” you reaffirm. it isn’t, though.
you begin to walk in the direction of your class and release a breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. deep down, you wanted wonbin to disregard your words and resume walking with you, leaving sangah and his friends standing in the hallway. but wonbin was too polite for that, and you couldn’t even turn around to see if he had continued to engage in conversation with the 3 of them because you felt tears forming in your eyes. stupid, stupid, stupid, you think to yourself.
unbeknownst to you, sangah was able to sense the tension in the atmosphere before anyone had even said anything to her. she kisses her teeth, scratching the side of her head. “i should probably go, too,” she tells wonbin. the boy can tell that she would’ve liked to talk more, but he wasn’t looking to become friends or even acquaintances with her. doing that would only give her the wrong idea, and he didn’t want to have any bad blood with someone he’d be forced to see nearly everyday in class. the boy nods in understanding, giving her a wave. “nice.. talking to you,” he bids her farewell, unsure of what to say, because whatever had just transpired definitely did not qualify as a conversation. the girl waves back with an unwavering smile, walking in the opposite direction you had gone.
“oh, man,” seunghan lets out a laugh he had been holding in, “that was the worst. please don’t ever put me through anything like that again.” anton silently agrees, cringing.
“is it just me,” wonbin starts, ignoring his friend’s remark, “or did y/n seem kind of upset before she left?”
anton stretches his arms slightly, eyes looking anywhere but at his dark haired friend. “wonder why that might be,” he muses under his breath, but wonbin catches it. “what do you mean?” he pushes, looking his younger friend in the eye. anton puts his hands in the air in mock surrender.
“anton, what the hell do you mean?” wonbin asks again, voice tinged with annoyance. anton shakes his head, “figure it out.”
seunghan watches his friends go back and forth, a bit confused himself. much like sungchan, he seems to be completely oblivious when it comes to the way you feel about wonbin.
you’re currently sitting in class wondering why you even bothered to show up.
you knew before you even sat down that you wouldn’t be able to process a single word of the lecture, your mind thinking over your first official encounter with sangah.
ever since last night, you’ve started to dread moments like these— none of your friends being around to distract you, leaving you alone with your own miserable thoughts. it feels as though each minuscule moment of silence is filled with your insecurities being pushed to the forefront of your mind.
what did they talk about after you had left? did seunghan and anton decide to leave shortly after, leaving wonbin and sangah alone? did they grow closer in the small amount of time they were left together? even worse, what if the amount of time they spent together wasn’t small at all? oh god, what if they’re still together right now?
had anton, seunghan or, worst of all, wonbin decided to invite sangah to their aforementioned drink hangout? your mind drifts to the image of wonbin ordering a drink for sangah, the same way he always does for you, and you feel like bursting into tears similarly to the way you had almost done so on your way to class.
and sangah— god, you wanted to hate her so bad. your prayers that she had the personality of a wicked witch were thrown out the window the second she opened her mouth. she was so nice to you. the guy that she likes had openly expressed that he wanted to walk you to class and she still smiled at you. she’s got the most perfect appearance and most perfect attitude and you feel like you can’t compete with any of it.
you check your phone for the first time in approximately 30 minutes, eager for a distraction. you’re dismayed to see only 3 notifications, one from the boy who seems the root of every current problem in your life, and two from sungchan.
[10:04 AM] bin 🫶: everything ok??
[10:16 AM] sungchani: hey
[10:16 AM] sungchani: we’re all gonna hang out on friday night (as decided by me just now) and u will be coming! (also decided by me just now)
you open your phone, typing a quick response to wonbin about how everything is fine (lie) and sending another short message in hopes of steering the conversation in a different direction. you open the two messages from sungchan, shaking your head as if he’d be able to sense your attitude through the screen.
[10:48 AM] you: who’s “we” exactly…. and what will “we” be doing
[10:50 AM] sungchani: don’t act dumb girl… me, you, taro, seunghan, anton and wonbin obviously. was gonna see if eunseok and sohee could make it but i doubt eunseok would wanna and i think sohee’s doing some group assignment lolol
[10:51 AM] sungchani: as for your other question i was thinking about going to the movies yay or nay? (say yay)
[10:51 AM] you: pass
[10:52 AM] sungchani: perfect see u there!
you don’t bother responding to sungchan’s final message, knowing that no amount of opposition from you would deter him. he’d probably drag you all the way to the theater himself if he had to. but you really don’t want to go, feeling drained from the thoughts that have been plaguing your mind ever since sungchan mentioned sangah for the first time. you’d much rather spent your friday night in bed, trying to give your brain a much needed break. maybe if you really felt like torturing yourself, you’d pull up sangah’s instagram once more.
when class ends, you’re shocked to find anton waiting for you outside of the lecture hall. he’s holding a plastic cup filled with chai tea, leaning against the wall leisurely as he sips through an orange straw. he doesn’t look in your direction, which confuses you, because you’re undoubtedly the reason he’s currently standing outside of your classroom.
“lee anto-“ the boy in question cuts you off by lifting his index finger in front of your face, still not looking at you. you scoff in irritation, not wanting to deal with his antics in your current state.
“you’re coming on friday, yes?” he questions, his voice slightly above a whisper. “not if i don’t have to,” you say, your voice at a normal volume. anton, finally looking you in the eyes, presses his index finger to his lips as if to indicate that you need to be quieter. “you do have to,” he nods.
you pinch the bridge of your nose. “why the hell are you whispering?” you scowl, and he keeps his index finger on his lips. you groan before reluctantly lowering your voice to match his, despite the fact that you still don’t know why he wants you to do so. “what’s going on?” you inquire.
“you have to come on friday,” he repeats quietly, “and you’re gonna tell dark star that you’re in love with him.”
you blink. “who?” anton leans his head back in annoyance before mouthing, “PARK WONBIN.” you recoil for a myriad of reasons. “first of all, i’m not coming on friday,” your voice slightly increases in volume, “and even if i was, i most definitely would not use it as an opportunity to confess to wonbin. and why in the world did you just call him that?” you finish, exasperated.
anton only sips his drink, his aura calm and collected. “you’re going,” he answers pointedly, “because if you don’t, dark star is gonna find out either way.”
your eyes widen and you feel like all of the air has left your lungs. “what do you mean by that? you wouldn’t actually-“
“i would, though. if telling dark star about your crush on him would get you to stop pining after him like a fool, why wouldn’t i? and, in addition,” anton fully turns to you, his voice raising to a light mumble, “i saw the way you reacted when sarah started talking to him earlier.”
“it’s sangah,” you deadpan. anton waves his hand dismissively. “not the point. with the way you acted earlier, you would’ve thought they were getting married right in the middle of that hallway,” he sounds concerned as he speaks the words, not looking anywhere but at you.
“i’m not saying that wonbin— dark star, i mean, has a thing for sandra right now. frankly, i don’t think he cares about her at all,” anton continues, “but if you’re that worried about some random girl taking him away from you when they’ve known each other for like, a week, i think that’s a sign that it might be a good idea to tell him how you’re feeling.”
you look down, letting his words settle into your mind. “i’ll come on friday,” you nod, and the boy in front of you smiles at your words, “but i have to give the whole confessing to wonbin thing a bit more thought. i mean, it’s kind of sudden.” anton’s advice actually made sense, you think, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to tell the boy you’ve been harboring feelings for all this time that you’re in love with him on a random friday night.
“sudden?” anton asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “i think it’s long overdue. fire tornado hector thinks so, too,” he tells you.
you turn to him, dumbfounded. “where the hell are you getting these names from?!”
friday night comes in the blink of an eye and you’re standing in the lobby of the theater with shotaro, anton, seunghan, and sungchan. wonbin is nowhere to be seen.
“i told him 7PM sharp,” sungchan murmurs impatiently, checking his watch. shotaro turns to anton, jokingly hitting the younger boy on the arm with a laugh. “imagine he just decided to stay home,” he chuckles, “i bet y/n would be relieved.”
“why would she be relieved?” seunghan intrudes curiously. anton shrugs. “i told her she had to confess to wonbin tonight,” he says casually, as if he hadn’t just revealed your not-so-secret secret to an unsuspecting seunghan. the older boy’s eyebrows raise at anton’s words, his lips parting.
“you like wonbin?” he questions you eagerly. “dude, i can’t believe you didn’t know by now,” anton answers in your place as you press your lips together. “and we won’t be using the name wonbin when he arrives. he’s dark star. the codename helps when you’re trying to be discreet,” he finishes.
“yeah, because you know all about being discreet, right?” you reply, voice laced with sarcasm. anton knows that you’re referring to the way he had exposed your feelings for wonbin merely 30 seconds ago, avoiding your gaze as he whistles idly.
“sorry i’m late, guys,” the man of the hour exhales as he walks up to the 5 of you. sungchan studies wonbin, unimpressed. the latter can sense his older friend’s agitation, clicking his tongue. “you’ll forgive me once you find out why i’m late,” he assures, “look who i brought with me.”
you can’t prevent the way your heartbeat escalates, both at the mere presence of wonbin and the words that have just left his mouth. you’re unsure if you even want to find out who he’s brought with him, fearing the worst.
“sohee! eunseok!” you hear sungchan exclaim, excitedly making his way over to the two figures that have just entered the theater. he wraps his lengthy arms around both of them simultaneously.
“guess our invitations got lost in the mail, huh?” eunseok muses, returning his friend’s embrace. the three of them return to where you and the others are standing and sungchan scratches the back of his neck. “my bad, man,” he utters bashfully, “the movie we’re watching is pretty lame. didn’t think you’d be into it.”
“still, it’s an excuse to see you guys,” eunseok shrugs, turning to greet everyone else. sohee does the same, wrapping his arms around you before anyone else.
“y/n! it’s been forever,” he grins, you return it. “it’s been… 2 weeks,” you tell him, hugging him back nonetheless. “i still missed you, though,” you hum. “stop hogging him, y/n!” seunghan teases, “we haven’t seen him in weeks either!”
the two of you release each other, and when you turn, wonbin is at your side. he taps your arm. “why don’t you greet me like that?” he feigns jealousy, pursing his lips. you smile at him, hoping to mask your nervousness, “i see you everyday.”
he rolls his eyes. “that doesn’t mean you can’t miss me.”
“i always do,” you say absentmindedly. by the time your words register, wonbin is already grinning. “ditto,” he mutters, his words meant for only you to hear.
he turns away before you can comment, and eunseok takes his place beside you. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, greeting you. you think nothing of his actions before he leans down, angling his head so that it’s directly next to your ear. “i heard about healing michael’s plan,” he whispers, “the one about getting you to confess to dark star.”
“please don’t start this,” you plead, “i cannot deal with these nicknames right now. and how do you know about that?”
“um,” he starts, moving his head away from yours, “obviously healing michael filled me in on everything. just because we don’t physically see each other everyday doesn’t mean we don’t have a group chat.” he moves back to the previous topic, “he threatened to tell dark star about how you’re madly in love with him, right? he’s bluffing,” eunseok explains, “if you confess to dark star tonight, it should be because you really love him. not because anton frightened you into doing it.”
you nod at eunseok’s words, unsure. “and,” he continues, “it shouldn’t be about some other girl that might like him, either.” he takes note of the way your eyes widen a fraction. “yeah, anton told me about that, too,” he nods as you make a mental reminder to yell at anton later for airing out your business.
“what i’m saying, y/n, is make sure that you’re telling him how you feel, not for anyone else, but for you. well, and for him. and for you and him, together,” eunseok concludes, “don’t let healing michael or sandy get in the way of it.”
“it’s sangah,” you sigh, in awe of the fact that you’ve had to correct both him and anton. sungchan appears to have heard your final words, perking up at the mention of wonbin’s classmate.
“sangah? we’re talking about sangah?” he blurts out, turning to wonbin with a smile. “bro, we totally should’ve invited her,” he jokes, slapping his friend on the arm, “seeing her and wonbin interact in the theater would’ve been hilarious.” everyone grows tense at sungchan’s teasing— he was somehow still the only one unaware of your feelings for wonbin.
wonbin only shakes his head in response, his first instinct being to look over at you. you’re wearing that same disheartened look on your face as the first time you found out about sangah, and he can hardly breathe. his eyes narrow at the sight of eunseok’s arm still hanging off your shoulders.
“sungchan, when does the movie start? we’ve been standing here for a while,” shotaro states, attempting to alleviate the situation. “oh, we still have about,” sungchan checks the time on his watch, “ten minutes before the trailers even start playing,” he responds.
shotaro ushers the group over to the concession counter, quickly making some excuse about everyone needing to choose their snacks for the movie. “amateurs,” sungchan mutters, “who doesn’t bring their own snacks to the movies?”
wonbin finds his place beside you again, briefly studying your features. he notices the way you stand stiffly in your spot and the slight wrinkle between your brows. “hey,” he tries to get your attention. your eyes soften as they meet his that are flooded with worry. “i’m sorry,” he frowns, “about what happened back there. i don’t know why he keeps mentioning her.”
you’re puzzled and, yet again, asking yourself if he’s apologizing because he knows that you have feelings for him or if it’s because he still thinks you’re upset that he didn’t tell you about sangah sooner.
you prayed that he wasn’t apologizing due to the former, but why would he even need to apologize if it was the latter? if nothing was going on between wonbin and sangah, he had no reason to tell you about her. you press your lips into a tight line. maybe that was it— something was going on between them. that’s why he’s saying sorry to you right now, because he regrets not telling you before when you’re supposed to be one of his closest friends.
and that’s all you’ll ever be to him, because you were too much of a coward to confess to him when you had the chance. you think about how disappointed your friends are going to be once you break the news to them that you wouldn’t be confessing to wonbin tonight, or ever.
“don’t apologize, wonbin,” you quietly tell him, and he wonders why it seems as though you’re about to cry. he shakes his head, getting the sense that you misunderstood his words. he looks back at your mutual friend group, seeing that they’re all preoccupied. wonbin seizes the opportunity, grabbing your hand and taking you to a secluded area of the theater.
“please don’t tell me not to apologize,” he breathes, “because i have so much to apologize to you for.”
you’re confused and concerned, your lips parting slightly. you don’t have the chance to savor the feeling of wonbin’s hand still holding yours because you’re mentally preparing yourself for whatever words he’s about to say. this is it, you tell yourself. you stare at the ground, anticipating the feeling of disappointment and rejection.
“i like you so much.”
you stop breathing as the words leave wonbin’s mouth. you’re terrified to look up, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly. he responds to your unvoiced worries by repeating the statement.
“i like you so much, and i’m sorry for holding it in this long,” he says breathlessly, “i’m sorry for letting sungchan talk about sangah all the time, because i didn’t want you to think that i could ever like anyone else.”
he continues despite your silence. “and i’m sorry for telling you all of this in a movie theater, of all places. i’ve been psyching myself up for weeks, but i couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing any longer. i’m tired of misunderstandings.”
he finally takes a deep breath, and you look up at him for the first time. “are you serious?” is all you’re able to say. you want to be 100% sure that your mind isn’t being as cruel as it normally is when it comes to park wonbin.
he nods, appearing to be just as nervous as you are, and you think that’s good enough of an indicator that he’s not joking.
“you fool,” you breath out in utter disbelief, not knowing if your words are directed at wonbin or yourself. the boy looks troubled for a moment before he hears a noise similar to a sob leave your mouth.
you hide your face with your hands. “i was supposed to be the one to confess to you.”
it’s wonbin’s turn to be silent now, listening to you rant. “it was this whole thing— healing michael, dark star.. eunseok knew about it, and shotaro..” you trail off. your words don’t even make sense to yourself, and you doubt they make any sense to the boy in front of you. “my god, wonbin— i’ve liked you since the day i met you!” you cry, hands still obstructing your vision.
wonbin hesitantly takes it upon himself to grab your wrists, removing your hands from your face. “do you mean that?” he asks, trying to meet your gaze.
you don’t look him in the eye as you continue rambling. “i was so scared,” you tell him, “sungchan mentioned her out of nowhere that day and i was so scared. i thought she was your secret girlfriend, or something.” you feel stupid for telling him all of this, finally admitting to your jealousy.
“when i saw her for the first time, i thought it was over,” you shake your head, “someone so pretty having a crush on you? i felt like nothing next to her. sungchan even told me that she wrote down her instagram and casually handed it to you— i’d kill to be that confident in myself,” you’re not even paying attention to the words leaving your mouth anymore, wanting to get everything you’ve been holding in out of your system.
when you finally look at wonbin’s face, he looks sad, which startles you. you’re afraid that you’ve just killed his mood with your venting. “i’m sorry— i didn’t me-“ you’re interrupted by wonbin pulling you to his chest, shaking his head at your words. “you fool,” he repeats your words from minutes ago. “i can’t believe you’ve been feeling that way about yourself.”
he keeps you in his embrace as if you’d run away if he were to let go. “i can’t think of anyone prettier than you,” he mutters, “or nicer, or funnier. or anything, really, because i think of you more than anyone else. i guess it’s my fault, kind of. i could’ve expressed it in ways other than walking you to class and ordering dumb overpriced drinks for you.” you let out a quiet laugh at his last sentence and he smiles, pulling away slightly so he’s able to see your face.
“i guess we’re both kind of stupid,” you conclude, earning a nod from the dark haired boy. “only when it comes to you,” he says, “i happen to think i’m very intelligent on every other occasion.”
when you finally regroup with everyone, they’re all wearing looks of disappointment on their faces. upon asking what happened, eunseok shoves a thumb in sungchan’s direction, the brown haired boy adorning a sheepish expression. “this fucker got the time wrong. the movie was at 6:15, not 7:15,” eunseok grimaces, “i better get a refund for my ticket.”
“you didn’t even pay for it,” wonbin says, “i did. sohee’s, too.”
anton, having been the first one to notice both yours and wonbin’s disappearance from the group, narrows his eyes at the boy. “and where were you?” he raises a brow, attempting to look intimidating. wonbin dismisses him with the wave of a hand.
before you and wonbin decided to rejoin your friends, you had to tell him not to hold your hand, much to his dismay. only after discovering the reason why, did he reluctantly agree.
you stand as far away from wonbin as possible, putting on a melancholy act. shotaro is the first to take notice of this, putting a hand on your shoulder. “did you tell him?” he questions, your silence serving as an answer in itself. eunseok overhears, looking at you with pity in his eyes.
when anton finally sees the distance put between you and wonbin, he concludes that you weren’t able to tell him about your feelings. he sighs, shaking his head.
as if on cue, you look at wonbin with determination burning in your eyes, beginning to advance towards him. the group is silent as they watch the two of you curiously.
“dark star,” you begin straightforwardly, “i’m in love with you.” wonbin tries concealing his laughter as he swiftly takes in the reactions of his friends. eunseok smiles knowingly while anton and shotaro are wide-eyed. seunghan wears an amused expression, sohee’s eyebrows are raised, and on top of it all, sungchan looks incredibly confused.
wonbin, keeping up the act, covers his mouth in mock astonishment. “did you guys hear that?” he turns to his friends, who are now all aware that they’re being pranked. “my girlfriend is in love with me!” wonbin beams, “metal blaze, i accept your confession.”
eunseok clicks his tongue, nodding. “metal blaze, that’s a good one,” he notes under his breath.
“alright, we get it,” anton groans, “it took you guys long enough.” he turns to you, unable to stop a smile from forming. “i hope you know i was never actually going to tell him myself. i only said that in hopes of scaring you into telling him.”
you nod, “eunseok told me that already. and it wasn’t me that confessed to wonbin— he confessed to me.” everyone is shocked at your comment, seunghan walking behind wonbin and giving him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. you purposefully skip over the fact that you all but cried to wonbin immediately after said confession about how much you liked him in return, and he pinches your side.
“you know, when you guys disappeared, i made a bet with shotaro that you guys were probably making out somewhere,” eunseok adds, “he said you guys were probably just in the middle of the whole confessing thing. i owe him seven bucks now.” shotaro pats him on the back with false sympathy.
as the topic of conversation shifts to something else, sungchan’s jaw is still practically on the floor. he looks at the way wonbin has his arm around your shoulders, head practically buried in your neck. he can’t stop himself from blurting out his next words.
“has y/n had a crush on wonbin this entire time?!”
AUTHOR’S NOTE! congrats to u if u survived reading all that ohhh lord i promise i’ll make y/n less unbearable next time but for now u guys are just gonna have to find it in ur hearts to forgive me… also it’s 5am rn and idk if i hate this fic umm we’ll see if i regret posting this when i wake up tmr
