Summary: Just as you moved into your new apartment, you had one rule: don’t get involved with anyone. Work, sleep, repeat—that was the plan. But destiny had other ideas, placing the most infuriating, irresistible neighbor right next door, ready to turn your life upside down.
Tw?: explicit sexual scenes, emotional abuse, prolonged conflict and avoidance, family conflict, anger, shouting, and intense arguments, fire, property damage, strong language
Pairing: jaehyun x reader
Word Count: 23k
Author’s Note; I have this story in the works since January of 2023 and I just finished it :) I hope you like it because I LOVE IT 😁 it’s also not proofread and it might have some plot holes but work with me pls 🥹
Finding a place to rent these days? Nightmare. It took you three months to land an apartment that was actually worth your money and didn’t make you want to scream. Moving in, though? A dream. Space to yourself, freedom to do whatever you wanted—goodbye, years of awkward roommate drama. You’d worked hard for this, and it felt amazing.
Everything was perfect. Gorgeous apartment, good job, life basically handing you a little slice of happiness.
;
And then there was him. Jeong Jaehyun. That walking disaster of a neighbor. You didn’t hate easily—you’d always thought it was a waste of energy. But him? He tested every ounce of patience you had. Seriously, if aggravation was an Olympic sport, he’d have a gold medal.
So you did what any sane person would: avoided him like the plague. Every hallway encounter, every elevator ride—strategically ignored. Yet somehow, he always found a way to drive you absolutely insane. It was like he had a sixth sense for exactly how to get under your skin.
And yeah… you had to admit it. With a mix of shame and defeat, your stupid, infuriating, headache-inducing neighbor? Ridiculously good-looking. Fine, you’d give him that. But beauty didn’t cancel out his behavior. He was rude, obnoxious, and had zero manners. Basically, a nightmare wrapped in a ridiculously hot package. Honestly, how was it even fair that someone could look like a calendar model while also being a complete terror?
You told yourself firmly: “Do not get involved. Do not even THINK about him.” And yet, the universe had clearly decided your stubborn little heart needed a challenge. Jeong Jaehyun, congratulations—you were officially the worst thing to happen to a perfectly happy life.
As you exited the elevator, you spotted him—Jaehyun—leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone with that bored, infuriating expression he had perfected since the day you moved in. You should’ve kept walking. You really should’ve.
But he lifted his eyes the second he sensed you, like a shark smelling blood.
Perfect.
You walked past him, head high, pretending not to notice.
“Hold up,” he said lazily, stepping right into your path. “You’re going to just walk by without saying hello? Rude.”
“Move, Jeong.”
“Why?” he asked, tilting his head. “Scared?”
You rolled your eyes. “Of what? Your ego?”
“Ouch.” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “Relax. I just wanted to let you know something.”
You didn’t stop. “Don’t care.”
That was when he dropped the bomb—quietly, intentionally, the way someone throws a dart at a target they’ve memorized.
“I saw the notice on your door this morning.”
You froze. Just half a second, but enough for him to catch it.
His smirk widened.
“Pathetic,” he said softly. “You’ve lived here two months and you’re already late on rent?”
Your heart stung. Not because he was right—he wasn’t—but because he was weaponizing something he had no right to touch. The “notice” wasn’t about rent; it was a simple package pickup slip taped wrong. But he didn’t know that. He didn’t need accuracy. He needed ammunition.
He stepped closer, voice dripping arrogance. “Figures… You look like the type who can barely hold their shit together.”
That.
Right there.
That’s what made your blood boil.
“That’s none of your business,” you snapped.
“Oh, trust me,” he said, leaning in just enough to tower over you, “everything about you is my business. You live next to me. Your problems spill over.”
You shoved him—not hard, just enough to get him out of your face.
“Don’t ever talk about me like you know anything,” you said.
He laughed. Actually laughed. “Or what? You’ll cry about it?”
The slap came before you could think. A sharp crack echoed through the hallway.
His cheek reddened. His smile vanished.
“You’re gonna wish you didn’t do that,” he said quietly—dangerously.
You held his gaze, voice low and steady. “Touch my life again, Jeong, and I swear I’ll make yours hell.”
Then you walked into your apartment, breath shaking with anger, not heartbreak, not weakness.
Once the door shut, you pressed your back to it, exhaling hard. Tears didn’t fall, but your hands trembled from pure adrenaline. You weren’t fragile—you were furious. And worse? You knew he was just getting started.
Because Jaehyun didn’t hate you.
He enjoyed ruining you.
And that made him ten times more dangerous.
A few days passed without seeing Jaehyun—miraculously. You credited that entirely to divine intervention. But, of course, your luck ran out the moment you stepped out in your peak fashion era: black t‑shirt, sweatpants, messy bun, and the “don’t even think about talking to me” energy.
Naturally, Jaehyun appeared at the exact same moment, looking like he’d walked straight out of a magazine—black slacks, crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to make your blood pressure spike.
He froze when he saw you.
You stared back blankly.
Then shut your door and walked on, perfectly ignoring him.
Unfortunately, he still had a functioning set of legs.
Of course, he used them. He whistled and stepped in front of you, leaning forward with that smug, infuriating grin. “Aaand where is this lovely lady going?”
“Out of my sight,” you muttered.
He ignored that completely. Of course he did. He reached out, plucking your hand as if it belonged to him, and pressed it dramatically to his chest.
“Feel that? My heart. It beats only for you.”
Your brain short-circuited. Why did that stupid word make your stomach flip? Why was your heart betraying you?
You yanked your hand back. “What the hell is your problem?”
He chuckled, because naturally he did. “You liked it.”
“N-no I didn’t,” you stammered, internally cursing yourself for almost believing him.
He smirked like he’d just won the lottery. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
You shoved past him. “Better luck next time, asshole.”
But, naturally, he wasn’t done. He caught your arm—not hard, just enough to frustrate you into a frenzy.
You glared. “What!!”
He tilted his head, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face. “You’re cute when you’re mad. Did you know that?”
You pushed harder. “I am not cute. I am furious. And you’re the absolute worst human being I’ve ever met.”
“Maybe. But admit it… you love hating me,” he said, stepping aside just enough to mock you.
Finally, you freed your arm and stormed off, chest puffed out, adrenaline mixing with triumph. Victory felt sweet. You weren’t falling for his nonsense—not today, not tomorrow.
The truth?
You were done letting Jaehyun think he could push you around.
He wanted to play games? Fine. You were ready to play smarter.
And this time, you’d win.
You genuinely loved your work. Every late night, every tight deadline—it all mattered because it got you here, to a place where you could live comfortably, have your own space, and build a life you were proud of. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Some days, though, managing it all felt like juggling flaming swords while blindfolded. And after those days, the only thing you craved was the moment you could return to your apartment—the ultimate reward. The idea of curling up in your own space, sinking into a hot bath, and falling asleep without a single interruption made your heart race in the best kind of way.
But apparently, the universe disagreed.
Because of course, God—or whatever cosmic force enjoyed making your life difficult—had other plans.
You hadn’t seen him all day, and for a fleeting, blissful moment, you thought maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t going to ruin today.
Ha.
Ha. Ha.
You should have known better.
As you rounded the corner to your building, there he was—Jaehyun. Leaning casually against the railing, looking impossibly put-together, as if the universe had designed him specifically to test your patience. That smug grin on his face was all the warning you needed: your peaceful evening had just officially ended.
~
You froze mid-step, just a heartbeat away from your apartment door.
“Evening,” he said, voice smooth, dripping with amusement. “Looks like someone’s in a hurry to get home.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re everywhere today.”
“Unfortunately,” he said, shrugging like it was a burden to exist in this universe at the same time as you, “I still have a set of legs. And apparently, good timing.”
Your chest tightened with irritation. He wasn’t just a nuisance—he was a storm in human form, the kind of storm that made you rethink the very concept of peace.
You tried sidestepping him, sliding past as if he were a shadow. But he shifted, deliberately, blocking your path with the grace of someone who had spent years perfecting the art of annoyance.
“Going somewhere… or just pretending you’re ignoring me?” he teased, voice low enough to make your teeth grit.
“I’m going somewhere that doesn’t involve talking to you,” you said sharply, tugging your bag closer.
He leaned just enough to mock you. “Ah, that’s the problem with you. You always think you can escape. But the universe seems to think otherwise.”
You rolled your eyes. Universe, fate, whatever—he wasn’t supposed to be a part of your evening. And yet, here he was, grinning like he owned the world, like he had every right to invade your perfectly ordinary life.
You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Your glare alone seemed to irritate him enough to keep that stupid smirk firmly in place.
And as you finally pushed past him, heading for your apartment, you felt it—the familiar, infuriating tension that he brought with him.
~
Yes. You hated him.
Yes. He drove you insane.
Yes. You wanted nothing more than to avoid him entirely.
And yet…
Part of you was already bracing for the next encounter.
Because Jaehyun wasn’t going anywhere.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
And definitely not anytime soon.
__
~FLASHBACK~
The moment you stepped into your apartment lobby that first day, you never imagined it would feel like stepping into a battlefield. Boxes stacked high, a fresh smell of paint in the air, and your hopes for a calm, quiet start—all of it ready to be dismantled.
And then, of course, he appeared.
Jaehyun.
You don’t remember the exact first words that passed between you—maybe it was a grunt, maybe a sarcastic “watch where you’re going”—but you remember the feeling. That instant, undeniable spark of irritation that made your skin crawl. He wasn’t just annoying; he was audacious in a way that demanded attention, even when you were trying your hardest to ignore him.
He had moved in the day before you—or maybe the week before—but somehow, in those first few minutes of seeing him striding through the lobby like he owned the place, you knew that nothing in your perfectly structured life would ever be the same.
At first, it was small things.
He played his music too loud when he thought no one was home. He leaned on the shared walls in ways that rattled your bookshelves. He had this infuriating grin every time your mail got delivered late, or when the elevator doors closed just before you could make it. Every little thing felt personal. And in your mind, it was.
The worst, though, was his confidence bordering on arrogance. He moved through the building like the entire complex revolved around him. Every time you tried to establish boundaries—your space, your routines, your peace—he tested them. Pushed them. Broke them with a smug smile like it was a sport.
And then came the incident.
You had spent weeks, maybe even months, meticulously moving into your apartment. Every box unpacked, every corner cleaned, every corner of your sanctuary arranged just the way you wanted. You were exhausted but proud. That evening, you had dropped onto the sofa with a sigh of relief, ready to finally relax.
And there he was.
Jaehyun, leaning against your railing—not even in your apartment yet—holding a package he had “borrowed” from the lobby. Not your package. Not even anything related to you. But the way he had looked at it, smirked, and then glanced at you like it was some sort of joke… you could feel the irritation boiling through your veins.
He had said something like, “Careful, some of us actually try to live in peace around here.”
You hadn’t been in the mood for sarcasm. Not that anyone ever was with him. But it didn’t matter. Something in the way he said it, the way he looked at you like he owned the world, was enough to make a line in your brain snap.
And that was when it truly began.
Your hatred, his irritation—whatever he felt toward you, whatever you felt toward him—it was a mix of pride, ego, and pure clash of personalities. You were meticulous, orderly, careful. He was chaos incarnate, unapologetic and infuriatingly confident. Every interaction sparked friction. Every word, every look, every smirk added fuel to a fire neither of you could—or wanted—to put out.
It didn’t take long for the building’s other tenants to notice. You two weren’t just neighbors; you were adversaries. A war in miniature. People might have thought it was amusing, but for you, it was serious.
You tried to maintain your distance, to keep your life separate, to enforce some sense of peace. But he always found a way to cross that invisible line. Small provocations, loud enough to be noticed, pointed remarks, deliberate teasing… all of it escalating.
And somehow, it always ended with the same result: he left smirking, satisfied with himself, and you were left fuming, plotting, and utterly convinced that he was the worst human being alive.
The funny thing—or maybe the tragic thing—was that this rivalry didn’t just exist on the surface.
It seeped into everything.
Every time you heard his footsteps, your brain went on alert. Every time you rounded a corner and saw that smirk, your chest tightened with that familiar mix of anger and… something else you couldn’t name. You didn’t like him. You hated him. And yet, your world had unknowingly started orbiting around the chaos he brought.
Because Jaehyun wasn’t just a neighbor.
He was the storm that refused to leave.
And as far as you were concerned, storms were dangerous. But they were also… impossible to ignore
__
You shook your head, forcing yourself back into the present. Memories of all those early confrontations—the sharp words, the stolen moments of triumph, the constant mental tug-of-war—made your chest tighten.
And yet, there he was again. Leaning against the railing just like he had on that first day, looking far too perfect for anyone to hate him properly. Somehow, he still managed to radiate chaos, the kind that made it impossible to walk past without a flare of irritation.
“Funny running into you… again,” he drawled, that same infuriating grin teasing the edges of his face.
“Funny, huh?” you replied, voice clipped. “I was hoping I’d finally have a peaceful evening.”
He snorted. “Peaceful? Around me? Now that’s ambitious.”
You ignored him and started walking toward your door, bag swinging slightly. He moved, as always, to block your path.
“Running late, as usual,” he said, stepping closer. “Or just trying to escape me?”
“Trying to escape the embodiment of chaos,” you said sharply, stepping around him.
He mirrored your movement effortlessly, smirk widening. “Chaos, huh? I like that. Makes life… interesting.”
You stopped, hands on your hips. “Interesting? You mean infuriating. I’ve spent years building routines, and you break them every time you show up.”
“Maybe I like seeing you react,” he said casually, leaning on the wall like he had all the time in the world. “Keeps me entertained.”
Your teeth clenched. “Entertained? I am not a source of amusement, Jaehyun.”
He shrugged, all innocence and arrogance wrapped into one perfectly maddening package. “That’s what makes it fun.”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. And, naturally, he grinned.
__
The next evening, the sky had darkened into a bruised purple, and rain lashed against your windows with a steady, relentless beat. You were curled up on the sofa, finally ready to unwind, when a frantic knock shattered the quiet.
Your first thought was, Who the hell could that be at this hour?
You opened the door, and your heart skipped—half in irritation, half in disbelief. There he was. Jaehyun. Hair plastered to his head, jacket soaked, eyes wide with panic, holding nothing but a small bag.
“What…?” you began, narrowing your eyes.
“I—my apartment,” he stammered, voice tight and uncharacteristically shaky. “There’s… uh… a fire. Small, maybe, but… it’s not habitable. The fire department took care of it but I need… somewhere to stay.”
Your stomach dropped. You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You’re not supposed to feel anything for him. And yet…
“You’re asking to stay… here?” you said slowly, disbelief coloring your tone.
“Yes,” he admitted, finally meeting your eyes. Vulnerable, raw. “Just… for the night. Or until it’s… you know, fixed.”
There it was. The old Jaehyun bravado gone, replaced by someone who looked almost human, desperate. And your pulse betrayed you with a flutter you didn’t want to admit.
“Fine,” you said sharply, stepping aside. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it. And don’t touch anything.”
He nodded quickly, almost embarrassed by the compliance. “I won’t. I promise.”
You moved through the apartment, tense and precise, pointing out the sofa and making it clear he was to stay in his corner. He settled, still shivering from the rain, and the awkward silence was thick, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Finally, he muttered, almost to himself, “I hate having to rely on anyone.”
“You hate relying on me in particular,” you snapped, crossing your arms.
He flinched, then let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Yeah… well, it’s… complicated.”
The storm outside pounded against the windows, echoing the storm in your chest. Here he was, frustrating, infuriating, right there in your space—and yet somehow… fragile.
You tried to remind yourself that this didn’t mean anything. It was a practical arrangement. Temporary. Necessary. Nothing more.
But as the evening dragged on, his presence became a quiet pressure. Small things—like him brushing past to grab a blanket, or cursing under his breath at the cold, wet socks—made your chest tighten.
“Don’t think this makes you less insufferable,” you said finally, tone sharp.
“Good,” he replied, voice low, almost teasing, though the edge of vulnerability remained. “Wouldn’t want to be.”
You glared at him. He smirked. The fire between you—hate, frustration, irritation—was alive and crackling. But underneath, subtle and undeniable, was something else. Something neither of you dared to name.
And as the night settled around the apartment, the rain tapping a steady rhythm, you realized this: Jaehyun was closer than ever. And whether you liked it or not, this storm—both outside and between you—was far from over.
__
The apartment was quiet, save for the rain tapping against the windows. You tried to curl up on the sofa, wrapping the blanket tightly around yourself, determined to reclaim your evening. But Jaehyun’s presence made the air feel heavy, charged, impossible to ignore.
He shifted on the couch, stretching slightly, and—of course—his leg brushed yours. You jerked back instinctively, glaring at him.
“Careful,” you snapped, trying to sound annoyed. Your chest betrayed you with a quickening pulse, though you refused to acknowledge it.
“I am careful,” he said, voice low, teasing, with just the faintest edge that made your stomach twist. “Wouldn’t want to provoke you… though it’s tempting.”
Tempting. The word hit like fire.
You tried to ignore him, tried to focus on your book, but every subtle movement he made—the shift of his shoulder, the way his hand brushed over his jacket—was like electricity against your nerves.
“Do you ever just… stay still?” you muttered, frustration lacing your tone. “Or is being insufferable your full-time job?”
He smirked, leaning just a fraction closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. “I like watching you react,” he murmured, voice low and rough, almost a growl. “It’s… satisfying.”
You froze. Hate and desire tangled inside you, sharp and confusing. “You’re impossible,” you hissed, fists curling in your lap.
“And yet… here we are,” he said, leaning forward, lips dangerously close to your ear. “You can’t hide it forever.”
Your breath caught. You shoved him—hard enough to startle him, but not away completely. He grinned, clearly enjoying the push-pull.
“Stay away,” you snapped, voice shaky despite your determination.
“Not a chance,” he whispered, low, arrogant, and so close you could feel his warmth. “You drive me insane. And I like it.”
Like it. Not gentle. Not soft. Just that sharp, infuriating, teasing edge that made you want to slap him… and also… not pull away.
Your chest tightened, mind spinning. Hate and frustration battled desire, your body betraying you with every brush of his leg against yours, every subtle movement that made the air between you sizzle.
You shifted on the sofa, trying to create some space, but it was useless. Every time you moved, he adjusted, so your bodies remained dangerously close, heat radiating off each other.
“I don’t even know why I put up with you,” you muttered, voice tight, trying to mask the tremor in your chest.
“Because I annoy you in all the right ways?” he shot back, smirk wide, eyes gleaming with mischief. His leg brushed yours again—harder this time—and a jolt of heat shot through your body.
You jerked away, frustration burning hotter than embarrassment. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmured, leaning forward, lowering his voice, “you’re still here.”
Your chest heaved, pulse thundering, as his gaze pinned yours. The tension coiled between you, electric and raw, making it impossible to think straight.
Before you could protest, he closed the small gap between you, pressing his lips to yours.
This wasn’t a brief peck. This was a full-blown, greedy kiss—demanding and insistent. Your body reacted instantly: your hands shot to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed to resist. His lips moved over yours with a practiced confidence, teasing and claiming, and every brush of his tongue set your nerves on fire.
You tried to push him, tried to break free, but it was useless. He was relentless, pressing his body against yours, one hand curling around your waist while the other tangled in your hair. Heat flared in your stomach, spreading through every nerve ending, and your resistance began to crumble, little by little.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, smirk teasing but fierce. “See?” he whispered, low and rough. “You wanted that.”
“I—” you gasped, lips still tingling, chest heaving. “I… hate you!”
“And yet…” he leaned in again, capturing your lips with a second, harder kiss, “here you are.”
Your hands clawed at him, half in protest, half in desperate need. Every nerve in your body screamed, your mind spinning with frustration, desire, and fury all at once. The kiss deepened, long and hungry, tongues dancing, breaths mingling, leaving no doubt: the line between hate and desire had blurred entirely.
When he finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, breaths ragged. Both of you were flushed, heated, and impossibly close—neither willing to admit what had just happened, yet neither able to deny it.
The room was silent except for your ragged breathing, but the tension—dark, electric, unbearable—lingered, heavier than ever.
__
The rain didn’t stop. Not once. Not even for a minute. Thunder rolled in the distance, lightning flashing intermittently, casting fleeting shadows across your apartment. Every day felt the same: gray, damp, wet, and loud with the constant drumming of rain against the windows.
Jaehyun was still sprawled on your sofa, a blanket draped over his shoulders, smirking as though he owned the place entirely.
“Do you ever sleep?” you asked, arms crossed, glaring at him from the doorway. Your hair was damp from trying to keep it dry while running errands in the downpour, your sweatpants sticking slightly to your skin.
He yawned, stretching, and his leg brushed yours as he shifted. “Sleep is optional,” he said lazily. “Teasing you… far more important.”
You groaned, rubbing your temples. “This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. And this rain is ridiculous.”
“Rain?” he echoed, smirk widening. “I think it’s perfect. Adds ambiance. Sets the mood. Makes our little… coexistence… more exciting.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you were pretty sure he could feel it. “Exciting? You’re soaking up my couch, stealing my food, and acting like you’re the only person in this apartment building. That’s your idea of exciting?”
He laughed, low and infuriating, the sound echoing against the walls. “You love it.”
“I do not!” you snapped, but even as the words left your mouth, the damp heat of his body close to yours made your pulse race. He was a constant brush of danger—annoying, infuriating, and… uncomfortably magnetic.
The rain kept falling, a relentless, pounding reminder that the world outside was gray and wet—and inside, tension and frustration were rising like steam from the kettle. Every day became the same:
• He would “accidentally” brush against you while reaching for something.
• You would glare, shove, or snap, and he would smirk, basking in the tiny victories.
• You debated how much of your groceries he had to pitch in for, joking that he was basically paying “rent in flirtation.”
• Thunder rolled. Rain soaked the windows. Lightning lit up his smirk in flashes, making it impossible to look away.
One evening, after a particularly violent storm rattled the apartment walls, you both ended up in the kitchen at the same time, trying to grab the last mug of hot chocolate. Your hands collided, fingers tangling, and the small touch sent sparks shooting through both of you.
He raised an eyebrow, lips curved into that infuriating smirk. “Careful,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “At this rate, I might have to kiss you.”
Your heart skipped. “I… hate you!” you snapped, yanking your hand free, though your body betrayed you, warmth spreading through your chest and stomach.
“Uh-huh,” he said, stepping closer despite your retreat. “Sure you do.”
And the storm outside mirrored everything inside—the heat, the frustration, the tension, and the unspoken desire. The rain would not stop. And neither would the sparks between you.
__
The rain still hammered against the windows like a relentless drum, lightning stabbing through the gray sky, thunder rolling in deep, low rumbles that made your chest tighten. The apartment felt smaller than usual, cramped by the constant sound of the storm outside—and by Jaehyun, who leaned against the doorway like he owned the space, smirk firmly in place.
You were perched on the edge of the sofa, arms crossed, a blanket around your shoulders. He had spent the afternoon moving lazily from the armchair to the window, watching the rain, and every now and then his gaze flicked toward you. It wasn’t teasing in the obvious way today—it was quiet, deliberate, and somehow more dangerous.
“Do you ever get used to this?” you asked, voice low, keeping your eyes on the book in your lap, though you weren’t reading a word.
“Get used to what?” he drawled, stepping closer, each footfall echoing slightly against the wooden floor.
“This… this rain, this… being trapped in here with you.”
He tilted his head, dark eyes glinting. “Trapped? I don’t feel trapped.”
“You’re infuriating,” you muttered, ignoring the subtle brush of his shoulder against yours as he passed.
“And yet,” he murmured, voice low, just behind your ear, “you haven’t left.”
You shivered, though it wasn’t just the damp chill from the storm. Heat pooled low in your stomach, your body betraying your mind in the most inconvenient way possible.
He sat on the arm of the sofa opposite you, knees dangerously close. The tension between you had shifted—not teasing in the bright, sarcastic way it usually was—but sharp, charged, intimate. Every glance, every subtle movement, every brush of his knee against the side of yours was a spark waiting to ignite.
“You’re… quiet today,” he said, voice soft but edged with something dangerous.
“I’m plotting my escape,” you replied, voice tight, though your pulse betrayed you. “Don’t get any ideas.”
He leaned forward, hands braced on his knees, gaze locked on yours. “Ideas are hard to control when you’re this close.”
Your chest tightened, heart hammering. You wanted to push him away, but your body reacted against your will. You could feel the heat of his presence, the way his leg brushed subtly against yours, the low intensity of his stare pressing into your skin.
Then, without warning, he closed the last inch between you and pressed his lips to yours. This time it wasn’t playful or teasing—it was slow, consuming, and deliberate. Your lips parted instinctively, responding even as your mind screamed to resist. Hands pressed against his chest for balance, for space, for control—but the pressure of his body against yours was relentless.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breaths mingling. The storm outside roared, but inside, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you, heat and tension twisting tight in the small space.
“You’re… impossible,” you whispered, voice rough, chest heaving.
“I know,” he murmured, smirk teasing the corners of his lips, though his eyes were darker, more intense than usual. “And yet…”
“You’re infuriating,” you snapped, though your fingers itched to touch him again, to pull him closer despite every part of you that wanted to maintain control.
“And yet,” he repeated, voice low, “…here we are.”
-
The morning after the kiss—or whatever that was—Jaehyun was gone. Your apartment was quiet, the rain outside still drumming against the windows, but the suffocating tension that had filled the air was gone with him.
You breathed a small, almost embarrassed sigh of relief. Finally, some space. Some distance. Some room to think without him leaning too close, smirking, or testing the limits of your patience.
And yet, the memory of him lingered—his smirk, the way his body had pressed against yours, the low teasing in his voice. You hated it. You hated him. But somehow… part of you ached for it too.
The day went on, uneventful in appearance, but your thoughts were anything but. You went to work, focused on your projects, trying to shove the memory of him and that kiss into a box in the back of your mind.
Then, later that evening, as you walked back through the lobby of your apartment building, you caught sight of him. Across the hallway. His hair was damp from a drizzle outside. He didn’t smile, didn’t smirk, didn’t approach. Just… stared.
Your chest tightened. That familiar rush of irritation and desire collided in your veins, making you want to turn and run, and yet some ridiculous part of you wanted to confront him.
“Go away,” you muttered under your breath, though you weren’t sure if you were telling him or yourself.
He raised an eyebrow. “You first,” he called lightly, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—something unreadable. And then, just like that, he was gone.
You exhaled shakily, wondering what the hell was happening to you. You hated him. Absolutely hated him. And yet… you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
__
The next few days felt… different. You moved through your routine with careful focus, determined to ignore him entirely. And yet, fate—or whatever cruel trick it enjoyed playing—kept him lingering on the edges of your life.
It started with the little things. In the elevator, your shoulders brushed slightly as you both reached for the same button. In the lobby, he leaned against the railing as if the building itself had been built for him to watch you pass. At the café you frequented, he appeared in the corner of your vision, casually sipping a latte, watching, smirking.
Each encounter set your nerves on edge. You hated it. Absolutely hated him. And yet… your pulse betrayed you every single time.
One rainy afternoon—you had refused to let him see how annoyed you were—you stormed into the lobby, umbrella dripping, frustration bubbling from the day at work. And there he was, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk fixed firmly in place.
“Bad day?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.
“Mind your own business,” you snapped, stomping past him.
He moved just enough to block your path, though, forcing you to stop. The air between you felt charged, electric. You could smell the faint rain on him, hear the quiet rhythm of his breathing.
“Don’t walk away,” he murmured, his gaze locking with yours. “I’m not done talking.”
“You’re never done talking,” you shot back, though your hands twitched, itching to shove him or… God, you didn’t even know.
He smirked, tilting his head. “Maybe I like that you fight back. Makes it… fun.”
Fun. That word hit your chest harder than it should have. You clenched your fists, frustration twisting in your stomach. “You are impossible,” you hissed, spinning past him, leaving him staring after you like he owned your attention.
And yet, as you walked away, a small, stubborn part of you wondered—why did your chest still pound when he smiled? Why did the memory of his lips linger in your mind, stubborn and infuriating?
The tension between you didn’t ease over the next days. Every encounter became a game: who could insult the other more cleverly, who could remain flustered without showing it, who could walk past without turning to stare. And all the while, the attraction simmered underneath, undeniable and unspoken, like a fire kept under ash, ready to flare at the slightest spark.
Even when he wasn’t around, you felt his presence: in the lingering irritation of your thoughts, in the way your pulse jumped at the sound of a familiar laugh echoing through the hallway.
Hate. Desire. Anger. Curiosity. They were all tangled together in ways you hadn’t admitted even to yourself. And somewhere deep down, you knew this slow-burning storm wasn’t going anywhere soon.
__
Jaehyun appeared at your door that evening without warning, shoulders slumped, eyes shadowed with something heavier than usual.
“What do you want?” you asked, arms crossed, heart racing despite your best effort to stay composed.
“I… needed to see you,” he said, voice low, almost too quiet to hear. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by a heaviness that made your chest tighten.
You frowned. “For what?”
He hesitated, eyes flicking away, then back. “Closure… maybe. Or just to… talk.” He took a step closer, but the tension didn’t melt. It thickened. His proximity was maddening.
You sighed, but the familiar fire in your chest flared. “Talk about what, exactly? You can’t just show up here and—”
His lips cut you off, brushing against yours in a quick, sharp kiss. Not a peck—deliberate, testing, demanding attention. You shoved at him, but the movement only made him press closer, his hands tracing the edges of your arms as if weighing the fight against the longing.
“You’re… impossible,” you spat, breath shaky.
“And yet,” he murmured, voice rough, “here I am.”
Something in his tone, the sadness beneath the teasing, made your chest tighten. This wasn’t just lust. This wasn’t just the old game. He was struggling with something, letting it bleed into the tension between you. And despite yourself, the pull was undeniable.
Every accidental brush, every low, teasing remark carried weight now—pain, desire, anger. The air sizzled around you. Hate and want tangled together in every movement, every gaze.
You hated him. You hated the way your body betrayed you. You hated that you even cared that he was hurting. And yet, when his lips found yours again—longer, deeper, claiming—you couldn’t stop yourself from responding.
The doorway barely contained the heat between you as his lips pressed to yours again—longer, deeper, claiming. Every brush of his thigh against yours, every hand on your waist, every shiver in your spine ignited a fire you couldn’t suppress.
He tilted your head, lips moving over yours with a mix of dominance and need, testing boundaries, and you found yourself leaning into him despite your mind screaming to push away. His hands traveled up your sides, sliding under the hem of your shirt, tracing your curves, teasing your ribs and stomach, mapping you like he owned every inch of your skin.
You hissed as his teeth grazed your lower lip, tugging gently before letting go, only to trail kisses down your jaw to the curve of your neck. “You’re—dangerous,” you breathed, fingers clutching at the front of his shirt, nails grazing his chest.
“And yet, you let me do it,” he murmured, voice rough, vibrating against your skin. His hands slipped under your shirt entirely, palms pressing against bare skin, thumbs brushing over ribs and hips, teasing, claiming, demanding.
When he pressed forward into your body, your knees weakened. He moved you with ease through the doorway into your apartment, the click of the door behind him sealing the space in a private, charged bubble. Every step was deliberate, brushing, teasing, his chest and lips against yours, forcing you to feel every inch of him.
Once inside the bedroom, the room felt small, intimate. His hands left your waist for your back, pulling you to him fully, lips moving hungrily against yours. You stumbled back onto the bed together, tangled in sheets and limbs, hearts racing.
He paused for a moment, looking down at you with dark, intense eyes. “Do you know how hard it is to stop thinking about this?” he asked, voice low, full of frustration and need.
“I shouldn’t want this,” you spat, but your voice cracked, betraying you as your fingers ran through his hair, tugging him closer.
“Good,” he said, grinding his hips lightly against yours, the friction making your breaths catch. “Because I want this. All of it.”
Clothes became an obstacle quickly. Shirts were tugged off, buttons undone, skirts lifted, pants slid down, all with a mix of teasing and rough urgency. Every brush of skin against skin was electric, your bodies learning, memorizing each other in the heat of desire.
He kissed you everywhere—neck, collarbone, the hollow beneath your jaw—pausing only to bite, tease, and hear your sharp intake of breath. You pushed him, trying to regain control, but he rolled you gently onto your back, hovering above, lips teasing, hands roaming.
“You’re not allowed to fight me right now,” he whispered, thumb brushing over your sensitive spots, eliciting moans and hisses from you. “Not when you’ve been thinking about me like this for months.”
You gasped, nails raking down his back as his mouth found yours again, teeth nipping gently before kissing hard, claiming, pulling at every nerve. He ground against you, each movement teasing, testing, pushing, and you matched him, arching, bucking, desperate for friction, for contact, for release.
Hours passed in a rhythm of push and pull, fight and surrender—hands gripping sheets, hair, shoulders; teeth grazing skin; moans and whispered curses filling the room. Every argument, every insult, every playful taunt became fuel for the fire, a dangerous dance of hate and lust that left neither of you able to look away or stop.
When he finally entered you, slow and deliberate at first, then with increasing urgency, the world narrowed to skin, heat, and tension. Every thrust was a mixture of desire, frustration, and power—the enemies-to-lovers tension exploding in every movement. You gasped, moaned, arched, and clawed at him while shoving and pulling, arguing with every touch even as your body betrayed your words.
Your climax came first, shivering, moaning his name against his chest, and he followed, lips pressing to yours, teeth grazing, whispering curses, sighs, and your name as he collapsed beside you.
Both of you lay tangled in sweat and sheets, breathing hard, hearts racing, eyes locked. The tension didn’t vanish—it lingered, a low-burning mix of hate, desire, and something neither of you dared to name yet, leaving you both trembling and aware of how irrevocably dangerous this connection had become.
__
Three days had passed since that night, and neither of you had acknowledged it. Not a word. Not a look beyond the casual nod. And yet, the air around him seemed different. He walked past you in the lobby, but the slight brush of his shoulder against yours made your pulse spike despite the casual expression you plastered on your face.
“Morning,” he said, low, clipped, as if it were nothing, yet the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement—or was it smugness? You couldn’t tell.
“Morning,” you replied, hands full of your bag, refusing to look at him directly.
Later, in the hallway, he blocked your path—not fully, just enough that you had to glance up to meet his eyes. “You forgot something?” he asked, arching a brow, voice smooth as silk but edged with mischief.
“Forgot what?” you snapped, though your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag.
“That I can remember everything,” he said, brushing past you with his usual arrogant smirk, thigh grazing yours just long enough to make you flinch and heart thud in a way that made you scowl.
You wanted to be furious, to shove him away, to tell him off for the lingering effect he had on you, but… you didn’t. Your pulse betrayed you, and he noticed. Of course, he noticed.
“Still walking funny,” he teased later that evening when he passed you again, “like you’re remembering something… or someone.”
“Shut up,” you hissed, cheeks heating, yet part of you couldn’t help the smirk tugging at your lips. You hated that he had this effect on you.
The tension between you thickened with each encounter:
• The elevator rides, too close, casual hands brushing.
• The lobby banter, sharp words laced with subtle flirtation.
• The quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of that night—never named, always lingering.
You argued, you teased, you fought, and yet the lingering fire from that night never fully went out. Each day was a careful balance of hate, frustration, and undeniable attraction, a slow burn that neither of you wanted to admit.
And neither of you did.
But everyone else in the building? Probably knew …
__
You hadn’t seen Jaehyun since the moment in the elevator, not properly. Just glances in hallways, stupid smirks, the brush of his arm when he walked past you like he couldn’t resist getting too close.
Every time, it made your stomach twist in a way you hated.
Like this morning.
He caught your eye across the hallway, leaned against a locker, arms crossed, expression bored—until he saw you. His lips tilted up, slow and infuriating, like he knew exactly what memory he was putting back in your head.
You rolled your eyes and kept walking.
He still let his shoulder hit yours lightly when he passed by.
Not hard—but intentional.
“Watch it,” you muttered.
“Why?” he murmured, barely turning his head. “You never complain when I’m closer than this.”
Your face heated immediately.
“Go to hell.”
He chuckled under his breath, the deep kind that hit annoyingly low in your spine. Then he walked off like nothing mattered, like you didn’t still think about how he sounded above you that night.
It was the usual.
Annoying.
Distracting.
Predictable.
Until the afternoon.
That’s when everything went to shit.
You had stopped by the small convenience store near campus to grab gum, and when you stepped outside, you froze.
A girl—maybe sixteen, maybe seventeen—was sitting on the curb with two heavy grocery bags, scrolling her phone with a look of defeat on her face.
You recognized her instantly.
His sister.
The one he kept private.
The one he never talked about unless someone dragged it out of him.
You hesitated, because this was a part of his life you’d never been near.
But the bags looked heavy, and the girl looked frustrated, and it felt too cruel to walk past.
You walked over, slow.
“Hey… do you need help?”
She looked up, surprised—and then her eyes widened. “Oh! You’re—uh—Jaehyun’s friend, right?”
Friend.
You almost choked, but sure. Whatever.
“Something like that,” you said. “Are you okay?”
“My bus didn’t come, and these are for dinner, and if I’m late again Jaehyun’s gonna freak out,” she groaned, pushing her hair back. “He stress-cooks. It’s weird.”
That pulled a laugh out of you. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”
Before you could think twice, you said, “I can walk with you. It’s not far.”
She blinked, surprised, then smiled. “Really? Thank you.”
You grabbed one of the bags.
She grabbed the other.
And you walked.
The conversation was light, harmless. She was sweet, talkative, completely oblivious to anything between you and Jaehyun.
But halfway there, she sighed.
“I hate that he doesn’t let me do anything alone. He tries, but he’s always worrying. He acts like Mom’s about to check in on us any second.”
The words stuck in your brain.
His mom didn’t live with them.
You knew that much.
And clearly, it wasn’t an easy subject.
“I’m sure he just cares,” you said gently.
“He needs to chill,” she grumbled. “I’m not a baby.”
It wasn’t your place.
You knew it wasn’t your place.
But something in you—curious, soft, stupid—said:
“Maybe I can talk to him? Tell him you’re responsible enough?”
Her eyes lit up. “Would you?”
And that was the moment you crossed the line.
You didn’t mean to interfere.
You definitely didn’t mean to betray Jaehyun’s trust.
But she looked so relieved, and you didn’t think it through.
When you reached their street, she hugged you quickly before running inside.
You didn’t follow.
You left.
And you thought that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
__
You saw him that evening.
He approached you fast—too fast—not in the teasing way, but with a controlled, sharp energy you had never seen from him.
“Come here,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a request.
He pulled you aside behind the building, jaw tight, eyes cold.
“What the hell were you doing with my sister?”
You froze.
Your mouth opened.
Closed.
“I—she needed help with the groceries—”
“I don’t care about the groceries.” His voice cut through yours, low but vibrating with anger he was barely holding. “Why were you talking to her about me?”
Your heart dropped.
“You told her I should stop worrying about her.”
“That’s not what I—”
“You tried to get involved in how I handle my family.”
You swallowed hard. “I wasn’t trying to—Jaehyun, I swear, I was just—”
“You were just overstepping,” he snapped.
You flinched.
He wasn’t yelling, but it was worse—this was disappointment, hurt, and anger tangled together.
“I told you before,” he said slowly, breathing uneven, “there are things in my life you don’t get to touch. And you went and touched them anyway.”
“I was trying to help,” you whispered.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
He stepped back like he couldn’t stand how close he’d gotten. “You had no right.”
You felt your throat tighten.
He shook his head once, jaw clenching hard.
“For someone who hates me so much,” he said bitterly, “you sure act like you get a say in what I do.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” he said, voice dropping even lower, “what you did wasn’t fair.”
Silence.
Painfully heavy.
He inhaled once, sharply, like he was swallowing the rest of what he wanted to say.
Then he turned away.
“Don’t talk to me.”
He didn’t look back.
He just walked off, leaving you standing there with the sickening realization that one small choice—one moment of wanting to do something good—just ruined everything.
You didn’t sleep that night.
Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the way Jaehyun looked at you—like you weren’t someone he argued with or teased anymore, but someone who genuinely disappointed him.
You kept replaying the moment over and over.
His voice.
His jaw tightening.
The way he stepped back from you like your presence itself hurt.
You’d never seen him like that.
Not toward you.
And the worst part?
He meant every word when he said don’t talk to me.
__
The next morning, you spotted him in the hallway.
He saw you, too.
You knew the exact second he did, because his expression shut down instantly—like flipping a switch—and he turned the other way without hesitation.
No smirk.
No comment.
Not even a glare.
Just… nothing.
It hurt more than you expected.
You weren’t supposed to care.
You weren’t supposed to feel anything beyond annoyance.
But your stomach twisted painfully, and you hated it.
You hated that one fight—one mistake—could shift the entire dynamic between you so violently.
You tried not to stare at him.
You failed.
You watched him walk away, watched the tense set of his shoulders, watched the way he didn’t look back even once.
It was the first time he ever ignored you.
The first time he didn’t have some snarky remark ready.
The first time his silence felt like a punishment.
Later that evening, you stepped out of your building, needing air more than anything.
Your head was a mess — the fight replaying over and over, his face when he realized what you’d done, the disappointment that sank deeper than anger ever could.
You weren’t expecting to see him.
But there he was.
Jaehyun stood outside on the sidewalk, just a few steps from the entrance.
Hands in his pockets, shoulders tight, staring at nothing — the way someone stares when their mind is chewing them alive.
He didn’t notice you at first.
The streetlights cast a faint gold on his face, making him look even more exhausted than earlier — tired in a way that went past the body and into the bones.
His phone buzzed once.
He looked at the screen.
Locked it again without answering.
You didn’t know why that made your chest twist harder.
“…Jaehyun?” you said softly.
He turned slightly, just enough to acknowledge you.
Not enough to actually look at you.
And that small movement felt like a punch.
“Are you—Are you okay?” you asked.
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t scoff. He didn’t throw a sarcastic comment like he normally would.
He just said, quietly, “Don’t.”
You froze. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t pretend we’re suddenly close,” he said, eyes still fixed on the dim street ahead. “Not after today.”
Your stomach dropped.
“I wasn’t pretending,” you whispered.
That made him finally look at you — but only with the kind of expression that tears you apart because it’s not anger.
It’s disappointment.
“You crossed a line,” he said. “And the worst part? You don’t even understand how deep it was.”
You swallowed, heat rising in your chest, in your eyes.
“Then tell me,” you said, voice cracking against your will. “Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”
He let out a slow breath, shaking his head lightly.
“You shouldn’t have been around my family,” he said. Not loud. Not harsh. Just… drained. “That was the one thing I kept separate. The one thing I didn’t want you involved in.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know,” he cut in. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt anything. But intention doesn’t erase the line.”
A car drove by, the sound filling the silence between you for a moment.
Then he murmured, “I can’t do this right now.”
That sentence hurt far more than if he had yelled.
“Jaehyun, wait—”
He stepped back.
Not abruptly.
Just far enough that you could feel the space he was putting between you.
“I need time,” he said, eyes on the pavement. “Away from you.”
He turned and walked toward the side street.
He didn’t look back.
And you stood there under the streetlights, heart pounding so loud it hurt, realizing:
This wasn’t just a fight.
This was distance.
Real distance.
And it was only the beginning.
__
The next few days were brutal.
Not in the sense that something catastrophic happened — no fire, no accident, no storm — but because every encounter with Jaehyun became a war in itself. A quiet, invisible war where neither of you said much, but the air between you screamed.
You caught glimpses of him everywhere: leaving his apartment, coming back late from work, picking up a coffee from the corner café. And every time, it was the same. He didn’t greet you. Didn’t glance your way. Didn’t even acknowledge that you existed.
At first, you tried subtlety. A nod. A soft “hi” when you passed in the lobby. A tentative smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Each time, he ignored it. Not coldly, not rudely — he simply moved past you like you weren’t there, and it shredded your chest in ways you didn’t know were possible.
By the third day, the silence between you had become unbearable. You found yourself timing your comings and goings, trying to avoid him, yet longing for the chaos of his presence at the same time.
~
It was late evening when the unavoidable happened.
You were carrying a bag of groceries, tired and distracted, when the elevator doors opened, and there he was.
Jaehyun.
Eyes narrowed. Shoulders stiff. That wall of distance radiating off him in waves.
Your stomach dropped.
He stepped into the elevator without a word, pressed the button for your floor, and leaned against the wall — giving you space, but not enough to escape the tension.
You tried. You really did. “Uh… hey.”
No response.
You swallowed. “Look… about the other night…”
He shifted, finally glancing at you, the shadow of pain still in his eyes. “Not now.”
Your chest tightened. “Please. Just—just a minute.”
He shook his head, jaw tight. “I can’t.”
The doors opened at your floor. He stepped out without another word.
You froze in the elevator, heart racing, watching him disappear.
And that’s when it hit you.
You weren’t just upset that he was avoiding you.
You were terrified of what it meant.
~
The next day, you tried again.
You waited outside his door when you knew he’d be coming back from work, arms crossed, mind rehearsing every possible thing you could say to break through his wall.
And he came.
Without looking at you. Without pause.
“I thought about what you said,” you tried, stepping closer.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t even flinch.
“I know I messed up,” you whispered. “And I—I want to fix it.”
His footsteps didn’t falter. His silence was deafening.
Finally, he glanced at you — brief, cold, unreadable — and said, voice low and steady, “There’s nothing to fix right now. And maybe… there won’t be for a while.”
He walked past, and for a fraction of a second, you swore you saw the shadow of sadness in his posture.
But the distance he kept? That was deliberate. Unyielding.
And you realized, with a sick twist in your stomach, that this avoidance was more painful than any argument you’d ever had with him.
~
The week stretched on like this.
Every time you saw him, it was the same: silence, distance, careful avoidance.
And yet, every glance, every movement, every time his presence intersected with yours, carried the weight of unspoken words. Tension built like a storm on the horizon — quiet, smoldering, ready to erupt.
You knew one thing:
The fight wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
And when it finally came, it wouldn’t be just about the argument.
It would be about everything.
Everything you’d done, everything you hadn’t done, and everything you were both too stubborn to admit.
__
The first few weeks after the fight felt like walking through fire. Every attempt to reach him, every hesitant word you tried to say, was met with cold indifference. His clipped tones, the way he avoided your eyes, the deliberate silence — it was suffocating. It was clear: he didn’t want to talk. And after enough bruised pride and frustrated heartbeats, you gave up.
The weeks turned into months, and a rhythm emerged. You and Jaehyun became experts at coexistence by distance. The lobby was a gauntlet of timing; elevators became a strategic gamble. You left your apartment only after he had already gone, or returned just after he had slipped inside. In the rare moments your paths did cross, it was a quick, averted glance or a stiff nod. Every accidental brush of a shoulder, every glimpse of him across the parking lot, reminded you that the fire between you hadn’t truly gone out — it was just smoldering, waiting.
Each day carried the weight of the unspoken. Anger and irritation lingered, coiling around your stomach like a snake. Longing pressed at your chest in quiet moments, but you refused to give it a voice. Curiosity gnawed at the edges of your mind: what was he thinking? Did he feel the same pull you did, or had the fight permanently hardened him against you?
The sister’s presence hovered in the background like a ghost. You never saw her in these months, but you knew she was there, slipping into his apartment after school or on weekends. Jaehyun’s stress-cooking rituals, the careful organization of his papers and counters — she witnessed it all. She helped him, guided him, supported him — but always without you knowing. You only caught glimpses from a distance, moments where you saw him softened, relaxed in ways he would never allow around you.
And yet, the unspoken barrier between you remained unbroken. You lived side by side, carried out your routines with surgical precision, and went to bed each night knowing that the man you had once been drawn to was only a few doors down, untouchable, unreachable.
It wasn’t until one quiet evening near the end of that year that the carefully constructed walls began to crack. Jaehyun came home, shoulders slumped in a way that suggested exhaustion deeper than physical fatigue. The sister, finally, confessed the truth. The lies she had fed him a year ago — the distorted version of what you had actually said — were laid bare. She admitted the manipulation, the misunderstanding she had created.
For the first time in twelve months, something shifted. The weight of anger, confusion, and distance pressed against him in a way that made the air between you taut with potential. It didn’t resolve anything — not yet. But it opened a door. A crack, a tiny fissure through which the tension, the desire, and the unresolved feelings you both had kept at bay could begin to seep through.
And while the year of avoidance had carved deep grooves between you, both physically and emotionally, the truth finally planted the seeds of change. You didn’t know what would come next, but for the first time in a long time, the silence didn’t feel permanent.
~
The moment the words sank in, Jaehyun froze. His fingers, which had been idly tracing the edge of the counter, clenched into fists. His heart pounded, and a bitter taste of disbelief curled in his mouth. He stared at his sister, unblinking, as if the weight of a year’s worth of misunderstanding had physically pressed him into the floor.
“You… what?” His voice was low, controlled, but it carried the edge of a storm barely contained.
“I—Jaehyun, I didn’t mean—” She started, hands trembling, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.
“Didn’t mean?” he repeated, voice taut, raw. “You lied to me. All this time… you twisted her words. You made me think she said things she didn’t, things that… that…” His throat tightened. The anger bubbled up, bitter and scorching, but beneath it, something else — a sharp pang of hurt, betrayal sharper than any knife.
“I was trying to protect you,” she stammered. “I thought… I thought if you didn’t know, you’d be better—“
“Better?” he snapped, stepping back, pacing a few steps away. “You don’t get it. You’ve been feeding me lies. Lies that kept me angry, distant, and alone. Do you have any idea how that felt?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t look at her. He turned toward the window, the faint city lights casting shadows across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight, as if holding himself together.
“I trusted you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I trusted her. And you—” He paused, taking a breath, the sharpness in his chest making it hard to form the words. “You used that trust… to manipulate me. To make me hate her. A year wasted because of your interference.”
The silence that followed was thick, heavy, suffocating. He finally sank onto the edge of the couch, head in his hands, shoulders shaking slightly — not with tears, but with the weight of suppressed emotion. Anger, frustration, confusion, and a deep, raw vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to see.
“I… I need time,” he said finally, voice quiet, but firm. “I need to think. I need to… process this.”
His sister’s words faltered, apology spilling from her lips, but he didn’t respond. She tried again, softer, “Jaehyun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”
He shook his head. “No. Just… leave me alone for now.”
And with that, the space between them was filled with the echo of betrayal, and a silence that wasn’t peaceful — it was sharp, cutting, a reminder that the trust he once had was fractured. He stayed there for a long time, staring at nothing, letting the flood of emotions crash over him in waves. Anger, hurt, loneliness… and, buried beneath it all, the slow, stubborn ache of longing for someone he hadn’t stopped thinking about all year.
__
The week had settled into a rhythm neither of them wanted, a careful dance of timing and distance. Every glance in the hallway was measured, every step calculated. They moved around one another like satellites, aware of the other’s presence but orbiting at safe distances. Words were scarce, replaced by cold nods or deliberately avoided eye contact, and the air between them carried a weight neither admitted aloud.
Jaehyun, however, wasn’t about to let the distance stand unchallenged forever.
It started small.
“Coffee?” he asked one morning, leaning casually against the wall in the hallway as she passed by. She didn’t look up, didn’t respond. She kept walking, her stride steady, deliberately ignoring him.
He sighed, shoulders tightening. He knew she was cold, deliberately so, but it didn’t stop the pull he felt.
Later that evening, he tried again. She was walking down the hallway, arms crossed, eyes focused straight ahead. He leaned casually against the wall, pretending to be indifferent, but the tension in his stance betrayed him.
“You always do this,” he said, voice low, teasingly sharp. “Walk past me like I don’t exist, and yet—”
She froze for a heartbeat, then continued walking.
“You’ve ignored me for a whole year,” she said finally, voice tight, clipped, every word deliberate. “You think you get to just start talking to me now? I spent twelve months pretending you didn’t exist because that’s exactly what you did to me. I think you need to remember that before you start complaining about anything.”
He stepped forward, frustration coiling in his chest, voice low but strained. “You don’t get to just do that to me, either,” he said, jaw tight. “I’m not some puzzle you can walk past and ignore. You’re driving me insane.”
She didn’t look at him, eyes still fixed ahead, but her shoulders stiffened. “I could say the same about you,” she said quietly. “You ignored me for a year. Don’t act like you’re the only one who suffered.”
The hallway seemed to shrink around them. He exhaled sharply, tension and longing and frustration tangling together in his chest. He took a step back, leaning further against the wall, voice barely above a whisper. “Damn it,” he muttered. His composure, carefully rebuilt over the past weeks, cracked again — every word she said, every motion of deliberate coldness, cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.
She finally glanced at him, just for a fleeting moment, expression unreadable. And then she continued walking, leaving him alone in the hallway, chest tight, heart pounding, caught somewhere between rage, desire, and the helpless pull he couldn’t fight.
__
The days after the long silence unfolded like a carefully choreographed dance, one neither of them had truly chosen. They moved through the apartment complex with the precision of two people avoiding collision yet drawn to the same gravity. Jaehyun lingered a moment longer at the elevator, just enough to catch her glance, and she, of course, looked anywhere but at him.
It became a ritual. Morning encounters by the mailbox, careful nods that said nothing; afternoons in the stairwell where he would lean against the wall, pretending indifference, voice low and teasing, “You really know how to ignore a man, huh?”
She kept her posture rigid, eyes forward, tone clipped. “And you really know how to make yourself unbearable.”
Sometimes, when their shoulders brushed as they passed, both would stiffen, a flash of heat creeping where irritation and longing tangled. Jaehyun would smirk, his lips quirked in mischief, and she would scowl, though her pulse betrayed her. The tension, simmering and relentless, built something neither wanted to name aloud yet couldn’t deny in the quiet of their own thoughts.
It was in those silent, charged moments, in the teasing remarks and accidental touches, that the world outside seemed to blur. Every glance, every sigh, every word weighed heavily, dragging them toward an inevitable collision they both feared.
~
The rain had started quietly, hesitant at first, a soft drum on the rooftops, and then it came down harder, relentless, drumming against the pavement, soaking the streets, turning the world into a blur of silver and dark reflections. She moved quickly, coat clinging to her, hair plastered to her cheeks, boots splashing through shallow puddles. Every step seemed heavy, soaked through, yet her heart pounded faster than her feet could carry her.
And then she saw him—Jaehyun—running toward her, drenched from head to toe, dark hair plastered to his forehead, clothes heavy with water. The world around them faded—the roaring storm became their private stage, lightning illuminating his sharp, urgent features, thunder shaking the ground beneath them.
“I can’t—” she started, voice barely audible over the rain, but he cut her off, voice raw and urgent, echoing through the storm.
“I’ve had enough of pretending! Enough of holding back!”
She froze, heart stuttering, as he skidded to a stop just a few feet away. Water ran down his face, down his neck, soaking the fabric of his coat, yet his eyes burned brighter than the storm.
“I love you,” he shouted, voice cracking with emotion, trembling with all the weight of the last year. “I’ve loved you through all of this—the teasing, the hatred, the distance. And I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry for how I treated you during that year. I should’ve trusted you, believed you… but my sister lied to me, and I let it come between us. I let it hurt you. I… I never wanted to hurt you.”
Her chest tightened. She shook her head, unwilling to let herself believe it, unwilling to give him even the slightest victory. “You’re… imagining things. I… I can’t—I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice trembling against the torrent.
He stepped closer, rain splashing against her, hands hovering just near her, aching to close the gap she insisted on keeping. “Stop lying to yourself! Stop lying to me! I mean it—I love you, and I’m done with the lies and the distance. I can’t wait any longer!”
Her laughter was bitter, lost in the storm. “Pretend? Do you even understand how much I’ve fought? Every second, every heartbeat… I’ve been trying not to fall for you. And now? You think I can just run to you and—say it? I can’t. Not like this!”
Every word of resistance only made his eyes glimmer more with fierce intensity. “And I’ve waited long enough! I don’t care if you fight me, push me away, act like you hate me. I love you. Every insult, every glare, every shove—you made me love you more. Do you understand me? More than I can put into words!”
Her defenses crumbled. Instinctively, her hands rose, tangling in the wet strands of his hair, pulling him closer despite herself. “I… I can’t pretend anymore,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I—”
And then his lips were on hers, urgent, claiming, fire and rain, the tension of a year of hate, teasing, and unspoken desire exploding into a single kiss. She responded immediately, body pressing against his, water plastering their clothes to one another, every inch of her shivering, every heartbeat colliding with his. Every withheld touch, every suppressed confession, every spark of desire ignited in that kiss, consuming all hesitation.
They broke apart just long enough to gasp, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the rain. His hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing her wet cheeks. “You… you love me,” he said, almost incredulously.
She nodded, tears mixing with the rain, shivering, a small, exhausted laugh escaping her lips. “Yes… I love you.”
The storm raged around them, lightning splitting the sky, thunder rolling through the city, yet it no longer mattered. The rain soaked them to the bone, but inside, the world had narrowed to the two of them—finally, irrevocably, undeniably together. She pressed herself into him again, lips meeting in another searing kiss, the storm outside merely the echo of the storm of love, relief, and desire that had finally broken free between them.
And this is why I love you, you Obnoxious Little Shit. ;)
- Over It part II (tyranny is often found within your words)
Summary; “Over It” follows reader healing from a toxic first love, only to face him years later. Through heartbreak, growth, and a chance reunion, she learns to finally be over the past — and maybe ready for something new.
Genre: angst, breakup!au, slowburn
Tw?: it’s just a lil sad ;(
Pairing: Jeno x Reader
Word count: 3,350
Authors Note; oh my god ?????? It’s been years since I posted and I had this sitting in my drafts for so long •_• what the helly . . . Anyways enjoy this part 2 of Over It II
;;;;;;
if there were a way to go back in time and erase a single moment from your life, you would. But unfortunately, you can’t. If you had known what was going to happen after that night at the party, you would have fought tooth and nail to stop it.
After completely humiliating yourself in front of everyone — especially Jeno — you avoided parties and alcohol altogether. Basically, you avoided human contact for months. It was dramatic, yes, but you knew space was the only thing that could keep you sane.
You tried, genuinely tried, to get your life together after that wild night and those final, painful moments with your ex-boyfriend — the same ex-boyfriend you were still, very stupidly, in love with. You decided it was time to stop “chasing pavements,” time to force yourself to move on. The first heartbreak is always the nastiest because it leaves you powerless, drowning, gasping. Sometimes it tricks you into believing you deserved better, that you’re stronger now, that you’ll move on.
But the second heartbreak from the same person?
That one is a catastrophe — the kind of disaster that physically hurts. Like that getting-hit-in-the-balls type of pain that makes your eyes water. And honestly? You weren’t being dramatic. Sometimes you felt even worse than that description.
The first few weeks were spent in bed, stuffing your face with ice cream and watching romance movies that only made things worse. You even quit your job because you were a mess — a whole, complete, undeniable mess. You were tired of pretending. You needed space. Maybe people didn’t understand, but deep down, maybe they did.
——
Everyone and their mother thought you’d gone MIA after the party. Even Hyuck had to stop by your apartment multiple times to “check up on you” because he was — his words — “worried you’d do something stupid.” But no. You weren’t the type to go off the deep end over a man. You had limits, standards, pride. You just needed time.
And Hyuck, who thought of the dumbest scenarios imaginable, somehow knew that too.
“Hyuck, stop with this bullshit. I told you I’m fine and—”
“No, you dumbass, I’m not going to jump off my balcony. What are you, twelve?”
“I said I’m fine. It’s just a matter of time. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll get over him, I promise.”
“You don’t need to come over. No, Hyuck, I’m not a baby. Okay— hanging up now. Bye.”
He kept calling nonstop, driving you insane. He was your best friend, and worrying was his job, but it was too much — especially when you didn’t even know what Jeno himself was going through. What he thought. If he ever considered leaving her. If he ever considered coming back to you.
You didn’t know. You didn’t want to assume. You didn’t want to hope.
Still, jealousy came like a punch to the gut whenever you imagined her with him — sharing kisses, hugs, clothes, memories. You filed every thought away as you sat with a cup of tea between your cold hands. It was mid-December, and Mother Nature was showing off — snowing sons of bitches outside.
Then your doorbell rang.
You froze, rolled your eyes, and mentally prepared to curse Hyuck out. If he showed up again, you were going to throw him off the balcony yourself.
You swung the door open with unnecessary force and turned away, already ranting as you stomped toward the living room.
“What is it now, Hyuck? I seriously can’t believe you drove all the way here just to drive me nuts. I already told you I’m fine — I’M FINE, HYUCK, I’M THRIVING — get that into your thick head, please.”
You turned, expecting his usual pout.
Instead, you were met with a cold, familiar gaze.
His dark hair cast shadows over his face, his expression unreadable — somewhere between angry and skeptical.
“Hello, Y/N,” he said.
His deep voice echoed in your chest like a song you’d pretended you forgot.
You blinked, snapped out of the daze, and swallowed.
“Jeno?” Your voice cracked.
He stepped inside without answering, closing the door quietly. He kicked off his shoes like he lived there.
“You don’t have to ask why I’m here,” he said. “Let’s just sit, and I’ll tell you.”
That tone — sharp, controlled — sent a twist straight through your gut.
You sat across from him, hands clasped in your lap, eyes focused on anything but him.
He cleared his throat.
“So—”
“Why are you here, Jeno?” you cut in.
“I came to talk.”
“About what? Because you’re here, and you’re not talking.”
A moment of silence. And then—
“I broke up with her.”
The words hit you like a punch to the ribs. They should’ve made you cry — but he was staring at you too intensely, so you swallowed the reaction down.
“And I care because?” you asked coldly.
A taste of his own medicine.
“I’m not asking you to care,” he muttered. “I just thought you should know.”
“Why? Is it supposed to change something between us?”
“I… don’t know.”
Confusion twisted inside you. His breakup wasn’t your business — not after everything he’d said that night at the party. Not after “happy and healthy.”
He exhaled. “I don’t even know why I came here. I just… you were the first person that came to mind. I dropped everything and drove here.”
“Do you… love her?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“No.” His answer was immediate. “After you, I couldn’t make myself love anyone else.”
“Then why did you break up?”
“I don’t know. She treated me better than anyone ever has, she was there for me always… but it was so healthy and normal that it overwhelmed me. When I’d make mistakes, she’d blindly forgive me. No anger, no fighting, nothing. It was just… too much.”
“I get that,” you said softly. “And I’m glad you ended it sooner. Otherwise, she would’ve been the heartbroken one.”
“You think so?” he asked quietly.
You nodded.
“Look, Jeno, I don’t know how your life was with her. And I don’t care to know.”
His throat bobbed.
“Since that night at the party, you made it pretty clear that you weren’t interested in anything between us anymore,” you said. “So right now? I don’t know where I stand, and I don’t know what you expect. But I’m shocked you came here after months just to rant about your breakup with her. I’m sorry, but I think I deserve better.”
Your rant ended. The silence was sharp.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “About everything, trust me.”
But his tone held a bitter weight that warned you something else was coming.
“But I can’t live without you,” he continued. “I can’t breathe when you’re not by my side. However toxic we were, you’re my first and only love. I can’t get you out of my head.”
He stopped when you shot up from the couch, furious.
“Who do you think you are?” you snapped.
“W—what—”
“You come knocking on my door in the dead of night, months after I tried for us? After you told me you were in a happy and healthy relationship? And now you’re here asking for something between us again? You must be insane.”
You laughed — bitter, hollow.
“You know what’s ironic?” you said, pacing. “I gave my all trying to get over you. Trying to forget everything we had. And here you are, coming back, asking for flowers and daisies.”
I’m not asking for flowers and daisies,” he snapped back, voice cracking just slightly at the edges. “I’m asking for you. I’m asking for us.”
You laughed — a hollow, sharp, broken laugh that didn’t reach your eyes.
“Us?” you repeated. “There is no us, Jeno. Not anymore.”
He flinched, and you hated that part of you still softened at the sight of it.
“You can’t come here months later,” you continued, pacing with your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to contain the storm in your chest. “Not after you looked me in the face at that party and told me to move on. Told me to get over it. Told me she was ‘healthy’ and I wasn’t.”
“That’s not—”
“No. Don’t you dare.”
Your finger pointed at him like a weapon.
“You don’t get to rewrite history because you’re lonely. Because now you’re confused. Because now you regret it.”
Jeno opened his mouth, but nothing came out this time.
“Do you know what I did after that night?” you asked, not waiting for an answer.
“I fell apart. I disappeared. I stayed inside for months. I quit my job. I had panic attacks over seeing a shirt that reminded me of you. I did all the embarrassing, pathetic, stupid things you do when you’re trying to get someone out of your system.”
Your voice cracked, just barely.
“And I did it. I did it, Jeno. I was finally getting there.”
Silence. Heavy. Thick. Crushing.
“So why are you here?” you whispered.
This time, he answered honestly.
“Because,” he said, and his voice was so small it barely carried across the room,
“I thought loving her would fix me. But it didn’t. Because I was never in love with her. Because I don’t want a relationship that’s easy. I want… you.”
You closed your eyes.
God, he was cruel without even meaning to be.
“I can’t do this again,” you said quietly. “I don’t have another heartbreak from you left in me.”
Jeno took a step closer.
You stepped back.
“I’m not asking you to choose right now,” he murmured. “Just… don’t shut me out.”
You stared at him — the boy who had wrecked you twice and somehow still made your heart ache.
“I already did,” you whispered.
That was what finally stopped him.
A stillness washed over his face — realization, acceptance, maybe even regret heavy in his eyes.
“Okay,” he breathed.
Just that one word.
He stood there for a moment longer.
As if memorizing your face.
As if hoping you would change your mind in the next five seconds.
You didn’t.
He nodded once.
And then he walked out your door.
No begging.
No dramatic last-minute kiss.
No pulling you into his arms.
He just left.
And you let him.
————
Time didn’t heal everything. Not really. It didn’t erase the nights you stayed awake thinking about him, the way your chest ached at memories you swore you’d forgotten, or the sting of his absence that clung to your bones. But it did something else — it made you stronger.
Three years had passed since that night at the party, since the confrontation, since he walked out of your apartment like he was leaving for good. Life had shifted. You had shifted.
You had moved into a smaller apartment on the edge of the city, painted the walls a soft beige, bought plants that stubbornly refused to die, and found a rhythm in your solitude. You were working at a job that didn’t love you, but it didn’t hurt you either. You laughed more easily now, not as a mask but because you genuinely wanted to. And, most importantly, you had finally learned how to breathe without feeling like the weight of someone else’s presence — or absence — was crushing you.
Hyuck still called sometimes, but less often. You’d learned to handle your grief without needing someone to check if you were “okay.” And as for Jeno… well, he existed in the back of your mind, a quiet echo. A presence you no longer needed but couldn’t quite forget.
At first, the memories had been sharp and painful, like freshly cut glass. The way he had kissed you in private, the way his voice could send your chest fluttering, the toxic but magnetic pull that had once made you lose yourself. You had believed you were done. That you had moved on. And in some ways, you had. You’d rebuilt yourself around the absence of him.
But life has a strange way of testing us.
You never expected it to come on a random Thursday, the golden sunlight falling through your apartment window, leaves drifting lazily across the streets below. You were walking to a small café you had discovered months ago — one tucked away from the noise of the city, the kind of place that smelled like cinnamon and promise. You wanted a quiet cup of coffee. A small treat. Nothing more.
And then he appeared.
Jeno.
Older. Broader. The same sharp jawline. The same intense eyes that once made your knees weak, but now tempered by time, life, and a quiet kind of weariness. He was in the café, scanning the menu, completely unaware of you at first.
Your chest froze. Your hands stilled. Every instinct screamed at you to turn away, to leave, to pretend that seeing him was a coincidence. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
He looked up, and then he saw you.
For a moment, time didn’t exist. The steam rising from the coffee machines, the hum of the espresso grinder, the chatter of strangers — all of it faded. There was only him, standing there, eyes wide, almost afraid to believe what they were seeing.
“Y/N?” His voice was barely a whisper, but it hit you like a physical blow.
“Hi,” you managed, your voice tight but steady.
He blinked. Took a cautious step forward. The same magnetic pull you had fought so hard to forget stirred inside you. He didn’t smile yet — there was too much hesitation, too much uncertainty. But the memory of him, of everything that had been, threatened to undo all the calm you had built.
“I… I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said finally, still careful, still unsure of himself.
“Neither did I,” you admitted softly. “I didn’t expect… anything, really.”
He nodded, swallowing hard, as if trying to control his racing thoughts. “It’s… been a long time.”
“Yes,” you said, and the word carried more weight than it should have. “Three years.”
He chuckled, but it was short, brittle. “Yeah. Three years.”
You both fell silent. Not the awkward, meaningless silence that comes from strangers, but the heavy, thick silence that carries years of unspoken words, heartbreak, and longing.
Then he spoke again, quieter this time. “I’ve thought about you. A lot. More than I should have.”
Your chest ached. You wanted to look away. You wanted to protect yourself. But some part of you couldn’t.
“Jeno…” you started, your voice soft, uncertain.
He paused, then leaned in slightly, gaze steady, intense. “I know this might not be the right time, or the right place… but I needed to tell you. I’m… moving. Soon. Out of the country.”
Your heart froze, and your stomach dropped. “Moving… what?”
“Next month,” he said, the weight of his words pressing down on the space between you. “I got the offer, and I couldn’t turn it down. But I had to see you first. Had to… know if this, whatever it is between us, is real before it’s too late.”
The world tilted. Your carefully constructed life, your calm, your independence — all of it collided with the truth of his presence.
“You… came here… to tell me this?” you whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “Because if I didn’t, I’d regret it forever. I couldn’t leave without this moment. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
You stared at him. Conflicted. Angry. Excited. Heartbroken. Alive. All at once.
“And now?” you asked. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
He gave a small, sad smile, eyes never leaving yours. “Now… we see. We spend this time together. We figure it out. One month isn’t much… but it’s all we’ve got. And maybe… that’s enough.”
You felt a flutter, a dangerous spark you hadn’t felt in years. For the first time in a long time, your chest didn’t hurt. It ached, yes — but differently. A raw, thrilling ache.
He reached toward you, hand hovering tentatively over yours. Waiting. Hoping.
You didn’t pull away.
Because maybe… this time, things could be different.
Maybe this time, you could finally be over it — finally free to feel without holding back.
🔮 preview. You feel like a chew toy caught between two rottweilers, and it kills you to give Jaehyun one last look before turning your back on him, following your brother to his car. Jaehyun is watching you as you get in, and when you close the door, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I know, what a killer race,” Johnny grins, starting his engine. “Could have been better though, he could have actually died.”
tw/cw. car crash/injury, Johnny maybe slightly tried to kill Jaehyun, illegal street racing, protected sex, dry humping, blowjob, hand job, pining, praise, slow sex, slight wrist restraint, admitting you love someone while balls deep, sweet dirty talk, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) Lil Suh, baby.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.7k
🍭 aus. street racer!Jaehyun, star-crossed lovers, secret relationship, step-brother!Johnny, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. I watched the new Fast and Furious movie a few months ago and this is the outcome
For something that’s supposed to be illegal, street races are big events. Under the cover of darkness, with the moon high in the sky, it almost feels like you’re at an outdoor party. The pavement is covered in people, and they part like the red sea as your cars slowly dive through, coming to a stop just near the starting line.
“Chin up, Lil Suh,” you step brother’s best friend says, nudging you while people begin to swarm Johnny’s racing car in front of you. “Nothings going to happen to him.”
No one is as confident in Johnny as Donghyuck is, although, it’s not Johnny you’re worried about.
Things have been coming to a head lately between your stepbrother and his supposed ‘arch nemesis,’ a new racer on the scene by the name of Jeong Jaehyun. The past three street races have been inceasingly dangerous, with the two often battling for first even as they rushed over the finish line. Jaehyun had even beaten your stepbrother two weeks ago, and Johnny hasn’t been able to get over the loss, his first in over a year and a half.
You have knots in your stomach, and a sneaking suspicion that something bad is about to happen. To make matters worse, you have a vested interest in both of the street racers. Johnny is family - even if he’s not blood - but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t care about Jaehyun too.
You hadn’t meant to find yourself in a secret fuck buddy style relationship with a racer, let alone your brother’s nemesis… it had just sort of happened, and now, you’re realizing the true depths of the consequences.
Getting out of Donghyuck’s car, you watch Johnny move to sit on the hood of his own racer, girls swarming him and running their hands over his fresh paint job. The purple underlights always gained Johnny attention, and they’d been his signature colour… until Jaehyun had arrived onto the scene with a similar aesthetic.
“How many other racers are here?” you ask, tucking close to Donghyuck while he guides you to your brother.
“I think I saw Taeyong’s car when we drove up,” your brother’s best friend notes, although, with so many people swarming, it’s hard to get a real count just yet.
Besides, Taeyong’s not who you care about.
Jaehyun’s always had impeccable timing, too impeccable for your brother’s liking, and a familiar rumble in the periphery draws your attention. The swarm begins to part, and Jaehyun’s car slowly rolls up, coming to a stop right next to Johnny’s.
Your brother’s expression had gone from a smile to a scowl, and he watches his nemesis exit the drivers seat. To Jaehyun’s credit, he always nods at your brother. You’ve never been able to ascertain if it’s out of respect for Johnny’s reputation, or due to Jaehyun being a genuinely nice guy, and the time you spend with Jaehyun is always filled with more pleasurable things than questions of intention.
The car that pulls up behind Jaehyun’s belongs to his own right hand man, a mechanic by the name of Kim Jungwoo. With shiny bleached white hair, and a smile big enough to light up his entire face, the street puppy always draws attention to himself, even though he’s not a racer.
Jaehyun might not have the liberty to lock eyes with you, but Jungwoo does, and it’s been clear to you for a while now that he knows about what you and Jaehyun get up to behind closed doors. Jungwoo even has the nerve to flash you a wink before going to join Jaehyun on the hood of his car, and the motion isn’t lost on Donghyuck.
“Hate that dude,” your brother’s best friend says under his breath.
“He seems okay,” you sigh, and it’s the most you can defend the street puppy.
You notice a small man running around, and he leans close to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. Taeil is one of the organizers, whatever that entails, and you’ve always thought it odd that the quiet, well mannered man would even be a part in any of this, let alone one of the people calling the shots.
“Yo, yo, yo! How we doin tonight?!” A loud voice booms through a few speakers placed along the street, and Mark Lee’s familiar way of speaking draws all eyes as the Canadian moves to stand in the bed of his own flashy green truck while everyone cheers.
He doesn’t race anymore, one bad accident had turned him off of the streets for good, but he’s one of the best announcers you’ve ever witnessed, with a talent for rallying the crowd and getting energy flowing.
“I’m gonna need all the racers to move to the finish line, that means you, Doyoung,” Mark grins, and you’ll never cease to enjoy the beef Mark has with the man with red underlights.
Taeyong, who had also not been in proper place, begins to roll up to stop next to Johnny, although, he never gets an earful like his friend Doyoung.
“We’re in for a big race tonight, everyone,” Mark announces. “In pink, we have our very own Mister Lee Taeyong!” The crowd cheers. “And in red, as always, Doyoung Kim- boo!” Mark’s the only one booing, and he’s also butchered Doyoung’s name, which always make the racer’s skin flash the colour of his car. “In purple, we’ve got the man of the evening, the winner of our last race, Jeong Jaehyun!” The crowd roars, and you feel the vibration in your very bones. “And last, but certainly not least, also in purple - you should really trademark that, dude - we have the previously undefeated, the one, the only, Mister John J Suh!”
If Jaehyun’s cheers had been a roar, Johnny’s are like rolling thunder, and he stands proudly next to his car, waving to his adoring fans before leaning down to enter his vehicle.
“Looks like our guys are eager to get this race started, and they can’t be the only ones, lets hear it for our drivers!”
The good thing about being in a run down industrial section of the city, is that there are no neighbours to bother with the deafening sounds. You can be as loud as you want, and you cheer along with the crowd, which begins to move away from the cars as their drivers start their engines.
“We’ve all been here before,” Mark says. “We know this track. But for those of you who are new… ask a friend because I will not be explaining the route.” No one has ever called Mark particularly thorough in his announcements, but he’s comical at least, and many people chuckle.
“So what do you say everyone, should we get this show started?!”
As the crowd erupts, you notice a familiar shorty rushing up to you.
“Our usual starting girl is out with a cold, but I know just the substitute,” Mark says in the periphery of your mind, and Taeil shoves a flag into your hand, grabbing your arm to drag you forward. “Lets all give a big round of applause for Johnny’s sister, Lil motherfucking Suh!”
You hate this. You hate it so much.
This isn’t the first time they’ve made you start the race on short notice, and you’d told them never to make you do it again- but somehow, you find yourself being lifted into the bed of Mark’s truck, Hyuck following close behind you. The vehicle is positioned about fifteen meters in front of the starting line, and once you throw the flag, it will lurch into motion, speeding ahead of the cars and giving those of you in the bed the perfect view of the race.
It can be a dodgy position to be in, as one bump can throw you, Mark, or his posse out of the truck- you’d heard about it happening once.
“What do you say, Lil Suh?” Mark pulls you back to his chest, securing an arm around your waist, the only true anchor you’ll have once this begins. “Are you ready to see some real action?”
He holds the mic in front of you, and you find your gaze shifting to Jaehyun’s car as you take a deep breath. There are certain expectations of a flag girl, and you’re a legacy here. You’ll be damned if you don’t make it a show, even if this was unexpected.
“Tonight, our city's best racers are here to fight for number one,” you announce, before focusing in on the drivers revving their engines, as is custom. “It’s up to you four to prove yourselves. Be fast. Be safe. And no matter what happens, don’t fucking lose! Get ready, racers!” You hold the flag above your head, throwing it into the air as you scream “Go!”
The truck lurches into action, and Mark pulls you tight against his chest, laughing loudly in your ear as you all speed off down the street track. The wind whips through your hair, and Hyuck’s screaming loudly next to you, one hand in the air while he holds on with the other.
It is exhilarating to be in the truck, to be ahead of the cars struggling for first position. It’s the clearest view of the race- but it’s also not where you wanted to be tonight. Johnny’s already being aggressive in his driving, giving Jaehyun little space, and your stomach turns again.
The cars are quickly gaining on you, and you feel Mark reach back, smacking his hand on the top of the truck to tell the driver to go faster. You let out a squeal of delight, grabbing onto Hyuck when your vehicle lurches forward again, the driver flooring it while pulling slightly off to the side in preparation for the cars to pass.
Maybe you’re overreacting about this, maybe this race will be okay-
Johnny makes a sudden swerve, clipping Jaehyun’s car despite your secret fuck buddy’s attempt to avoid it. Just like that, Jaehyun is skidding, and your heart stops in your chest. At speeds like this, even a touch can send you spiraling, and that’s exactly what happens to Jaehyun.
“Fuck!” Mark says loudly beside you, immediately pulling a red flag out of his pocket, and you all wait to see what will happen next-
Doyoung had been right on Jaehyun’s tail, and the sudden speed change has him barreling into Jaehyun’s back, lifting the car and causing it to flip upside down- miraculously, Jaehyun lands back on his tires, but both he and Doyoung clip a shopping cart that had been just to the side of the makeshift track.
Wheels skid loudly, a screeching sound that sets your teeth on edge, and both cars come to a skittering halt on the side of the road, with Jaehyun half up on the sidewalk.
The truck slows down, but both Johnny and Taeyong go speeding past, obviously intent on finishing the race despite the collision.
You don’t care about winners, you only care about Jaehyun, and you’re hopping out of the bed of the truck before it’s even at a full stop.
You stumble on the pavement, but as soon as you’re steady, you take off running.
The sound of your heart is practically deafening as you run the fifty meters to the crash, and you go right past Doyoung, jumping up onto the curb next to Jaehyun’s car to look inside. “Jae!” you scream.
“Shh, Lil Suh,” he groans, reaching for the door handle. He looks a little roughed up, and his lip is bleeding- “I’m okay,” he tries to assure you, but he’s obviously winded as he stands from the car, leaning on the door while you rush to support him under his other arm.
“Jae,” you say his name again, hand on his abdomen as you hold him up.
“That fucking brother of yours!” comes Doyoung’s familiar screaming, as he also exits his car, coming around the front to assess the damages.
“Don’t yell at her,” Jaehyun states, straightening a little even as he leans back against his vehicle.
“Since when were you two so fucking chummy?” Doyoung rages, skin a classic tint of red.
“Woah, woah, woah-” Mark has finally arrived on the scene, and he also side steps Doyoung, coming straight for you and Jaehyun. “Dude, are you okay?!”
Hyuck’s behind Mark, and he’s watching you with narrowed eyes as he moves to stand by the red racer, not saying a word.
You swallow thickly, knowing you should let go of Jaehyun- that if you continue to support him like this, Hyuck will most definitely mention it to Johnny- but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from the street racer, so you force your gaze from Hyuck.
“He clipped me,” Jaehyun says. “John clipped me.”
“Yeah, he fucked you big time, dude,” Mark agrees, and you hear the approach of cars.
Within eyeshot of the starting line, the mechanics there must have seen the crash, and you recougnize Yuta and Jungwoo’s cars as they pull to a stop a few feet away.
“Jae!” Jungwoo bellows, running over to replace Mark on Jaehyun’s other side. “Are you alright?!”
“I’m fine,” Jaehyun tries to brush it off, but he winces a little under Jungwoo’s grip.
“Your car is fucked, man,” Yuta muses, walking around Jaehyun’s vehicle and eying the damages.
“That’s really not what he needs to hear right now,” you shoot at the Japanese mechanic who has no bedside manner whatsoever. He holds his hands up in defeat, stepping back.
“The race didn’t even stop-” Jungwoo breathes.
“Johnny wanted to win,” Doyoung states, crossing his arms over his chest and eying Hyuck. “Your boyfriend did this on purpose.”
“Woah, now,” Hyuck laughs. “I get all the pussy dude- how many times do I have to tell you I’m not dating Johnny-”
The two begin to fight, and you ignore it, helping Jaehyun to Jungwoo’s car. The mechanic does most of the heavy lifting as he supports Jaehyun get into the front seat. Then you turn to walk back to Yuta, lowering your voice. “Can you fix his car?”
“I mean…” Yuta sighs, cocking his head to the side. “Sure, I can fix it.”
“Then fix it,” you state, motioning to the tow truck he’d driven up in. “Take it back to your shop, I don’t want to look at it anymore.”
“Shouldn’t I be dealing with Jae on this?” Yuta eyes you suspiciously. “Since when were you two so close, Lil Suh?”
“Just do it, Yuta.” You reach out to touch his arm gently. “Please.”
Jungwoo arrives behind you. “Tow it to my garage,” he instructs. “If we both work on this, we can have it fixed in no time.”
“We gotta get to the finish line,” Mark announces, already on the way to his truck.
“Yes, we do,” Doyoung agrees, and you can see his hand balled into a fist.
When you look to Jungwoo’s car, Jaehyun returns your longing gaze, but you know that if you drive with him and his friend, it will be as good as announcing to your brother that your allegiance has changed.
With a deep sigh, you follow Hyuck and Doyoung to Mark’s truck, taking your spot in the bed.
The finish line is only a short drive away, especially with all your drivers flooring it, and it’s hard not to look at Jaehyun and Jungwoo as they drive behind you.
“What happened back there?” Hyuck asks, pulling you to his chest.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he says firmly. “You and Jae.”
The words that come out of your mouth next are painful, and they’re only half a lie, “There is no me and Jae.”
Hyuck studies your face. “There better not be.”
Despite the crash that had occured, most of the crowd seems to be in happy spirits as they gather around the finish line. They move out of the way as Mark’s truck pulls up, and he takes out a green flag, ready to declare the winner.
Two cars come barelling around a turn, moving into another long stretch just before the finish. It’s a flash of pink and purple, but there’s a clear victor, and it’s not even much of a battle as Johnny comes racing over the finish line.
Everybody erupts into cheers, everybody except you. You can’t find your voice, you can only clap while Johnny does a victory donut or two before returning to the finish line where the racers are.
He gets out of his car with a massive grin, and Doyoung hops out of the truck-
Hyuck stops him, holding Doyoung tight while he rages in his arms. “Let me at him!” Doyoung bellows, but your brother’s right hand man knows better than to allow Doyoung to rain on Johnny’s winner parade.
Jaehyun’s right hand man, however, knows no such restraint, and you watch Jaehyun approach your brother, the crowd parting to let him through.
“Fuck, shit, fuck-” Mark cusses next to you, leaping out of the truck while you follow.
“You clipped me,” Jaehyun states, hands balled into a fists at his side.
“That’s part of racing,” Johnny brushes it off.
“Maybe part of your racing,” Jaehyun growls, “But not all of us are suicidal maniacs like you!”
“Every driver is a suicidal maniac, it’s part of the fucking job.” Your brother rolls his eyes.
Then Jaehyun is grabbing the front of Johnny’s shirt, and the taller of the two is looking down at him with a grin.
Jaehyun is seething. “If I’d had known we could play dirty like that, I would have knocked you on your ass during our last race!”
Johnny leans closer to the angry racer. “I’d like to see you try.”
Jaehyun pulls his fist back, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. You find yourself jumping between them before you can even think about it, pushing Johnny back. “Jae, don’t.”
His motion stops, and he looks from you to your brother, swallowing thickly. His hand drops to his side, and Johnny lets out a loud laugh. You see the effect it has on Jaehyun, can see his skin reddening with anger.
You feel horrible about this. About all of it.
“I’d like to stay and chat,” Johnny says, “but I’ve got an after party to go to. Winners only. Come on, Lil Suh, I’ll take you on a victory lap.”
You feel like a chew toy caught between two rottweilers, and it kills you to give Jaehyun one last look before turning your back on him, following your brother to his car.
Jaehyun is watching you as you get in, and when you close the door, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
“I know, what a killer race,” Johnny grins, starting his engine. “Could have been better though, he could have actually died.”
“Is that what you were aiming for, John?” You grab onto the door handle, digging your nails against it to stop yourself from acting out.
“Not particularly. I saw the opportunity to take two birds out with one stone, so I did.” He assesses you out of the corner of his eye. “That doesn’t bother you, does it, Lil Suh?”
“No,” you lie through gritted teeth as the car speeds off to do a victory lap. “I’m not bothered at all.”
“Good, now sit back, and let me show you why us Suh’s are winners in this city.”
You usually like speeding with your brother, he’s a daring driver, and the way he drifts on sharp turns has always been something that brought you delight. But tonight, you can’t find it in yourself to laugh, even while he rolls down his window to let out a howl of victory into the night air.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, skimming the pseudonym contact name you use for Jaehyun. ‘Slip away from the party. Same place as usual. Be there. Please.’
It had been a little difficult to escape both Johnny and Hyuck from the afterparty, with the latter of the two even catching you just as you slipped outside. Hyuck had been smoking, leaning against the wall, and he’d stopped you as you’d rushed past.
“Where are you off to?” He’d asked.
You’d used the only lie you could think of, telling him, “My friend just got dumped, she needs me.”
Hyuck hadn’t asked anymore questions, and now, you’re arriving at the motel you and Jae use as a meeting point. The lobby boy nods at you as you walk past. “He’s in room thirteen.”
“Thanks,” you mutter, tossing him a five dollar bill from your pocket and taking the staircase two at a time to reach the second level. You don’t even bother to knock on Jaehyun’s door, you never do, you simply slip inside, locking it behind you.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and with his shirt off, you can see the full extent of the crash. His ribcage has a nasty bruise, which is visible under the ice pack he’s holding to his skin, and your heart breaks for him.
“Jae,” you whisper, sinking to your knees in front of him to assess the damage. “You need to go to the hospital-”
“And tell them what?” he sighs. “That I got in a car crash? Come on, we both know that could never work. I’m fine.”
You reach for the ice pack. “There could be internal bleeding-”
“Baby,” he catches your wrist, “I said I’m fine.”
You look up into his dark eyes, and you take a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing.
“Everything-” you swallow thickly. “I’m sorry for the crash, and for getting between you and Johnny, and for going to that stupid after party with him-”
“He knows.”
“What?”
“Johnny,” Jaehyun says. “He knows about us.”
“He doesn’t know-” you shake your head.
“He does,” the racer insists. “Everyone knows, especially now. Hyuck will tell him about the way you ran to me after the crash. He’s not stupid. He’s gonna know, baby.”
“No one knows,” you say again, but your voice is a whisper now.
“They all do,” Jaehyun tells you. “They see it in the way we look at each other.”
You stand up, gazing down at the beautiful street racer who you never should have even entertained, let alone slept with- “How do we look at eachother?”
Jaehyun licks his lips, tugging at your shirt. “Like two people who want to rip eachothers clothes off.”
“Is that all?” you tease, lifting your shirt up and over your head so his hands can make full contact with your waist, pulling you closer.
“Like two people who care about each other,” he clarifies, voice near a whisper. “I told you, everyone saw the way you ran to my car when it flipped-”
“I was worried about you,” you insist.
The beautiful racer smiles. “Are you finally going to admit you’re hopelessly in love with me, Lil Suh?”
You scoff. “You wish, Jeong Jaehyun.”
Before he can give you a snappy comeback, you grab his face, pressing your mouth to his gently. He has a busted lip, and he groans, fingers tightening on your waist to tug you closer.
Your knees find the bed on either side of his hips, and Jaehyun lets out another moan of pain as you lay him down against the mattress.
“Are you sure we should be fucking while you’re in this condition?” you ask, pressing kisses to his throat.
“We’re not fucking,” he says, applying pressure to your waist that prompts you to grind down against him, feeling the erection in his pants.
“We’re not?” you laugh. “Then what are we doing?”
“Tonight, as cheesy as this sounds,” Jaehyun sighs, “we’re not fucking, we’re making love. And don’t-” he cuts you off before you can speak. “Don’t try to deny it. We both know there’s something here. Something between us. You might still be too afraid to admit it, but I’m not. Not after that crash.”
Who knew a near death experience would make a street racer so sentimental… but you’re not complaining.
You look down at Jaehyun, and he stares back. You’re not sure what to say, so you say nothing, instead, you kiss him again, hoping that the motion speaks louder than words.
You’re doing your best to be gentle with him, but Jaehyun has always brought a side out of you that’s anything but gentle. These soft kisses are nice though, and he takes your breath away as easily as ever.
Your hands are on either side of the bed next to his head, and you’re trying not to lean on his bruised chest. The ice pack is pressed between your bodies, and the cold sensation is interesting in contrast to his hot lips and the hands that prompt your hips to continue your grinding against him.
Even while your lower halves are both clothed, it feels good to be rubbing against him, to feel how hard he gets from just a bit of kissing. He’s right that there’s something going on between the two of you, something undeniable.
You care about him, more than you ever thought you would.
Your hand slips between your bodies and you cup his cock, making him moan. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he whispers, tangling a hand through your hair so he can pull your head slightly to the side, gaining access to your throat.
“I want to take your pants off,” you tell him, already beginning to get frustrated by his jeans.
“Then take them off,” he says simply. “I’m all yours.”
You sit up, gazing down at your brother’s bruised mortal enemy… and then, you begin to work on his belt.
He watches you silently, and when you slip to the floor, tugging his clothes off, he lifts his hips to make it easier.
Usually, things with Jaehyun are somewhat rushed, but tonight, you want to give him all your time and attention. He deserves it - after your brother ran him off the road - and his cock looks so pretty in the shitty motel light.
“You don’t have to-” he begins to tell you, but you cut him off.
“I want to,” your hand finds the base of his cock, and you trace your thumb up the vein that runs along the underside of it. “Just relax for me, Jae. I want this.”
He lets out a shaky breath, but does as you ask, leaning back against the mattress while you bring your mouth to his cock. You start by licking the tip, and your featherlight touch is enough to have him groaning, grabbing at the bed sheets.
He’s so sensitive with you, and you love it.
It makes teasing him all the more fun, and you continue your small motions, wrapping your mouth around the head while you stroke his length. You swirl your tongue, suckling and earning more reactions from the pretty, bruised man, who’s completely at your mercy.
“Please,” he groans, and that’s all you need to sink your mouth further onto his cock, bobbing your head gently.
One of his hands comes down to stroke your hair, and his touch makes you want to please him even more. He’s being as gentle with you as you are with him, and you’re not the one all banged up from a crash.
Your drool is dripping on his length, making it easier to stroke him, and you apply a bit more pressure. Jaehyun gasps, hips twitching, and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling of pleasuring him.
Your pussy is throbbing between your legs, and after you’re done working him up like this, you can’t wait to ride him. It’s not often that you’re on top with Jae, but if there’s ever a night for it, it’s tonight.
“So good, baby,” Jaehyun moans. “So good for me.”
His praise has you sucking harder on his cock, and he lets out more sounds of pleasure that go straight to your core.
You continue to work him up with your hand, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can while he struggles below you. He’s gripping the sheets, hard, and you can tell it’s taking a lot of willpower for him not to thrust up and meet you- but Jaehyun’s never been the type for making you choke on his cock, and you realize now that maybe he has cared about you all this time.
As rough as he’s been with you in the past, it’s always been because you were begging for it, and even then, he’s kept a gentleness in his actions-
You do love Jeong Jaehyun, and it’s almost comical that you realize it while your mouth is stuffed full of his cock.
You pull off of him, your hand stroking his shaft while you take a breath. “I need you inside of me,” you tell him.
“No more waiting,” he agrees.
You let go of him, standing up and reaching into your back pocket for a condom before taking off your pants and underwear. “Can you move up the bed a little for me, Jae?”
“Yeah,” he shuffles up the mattress, watching you discard your bra. You’re fully naked for him now, and you straddle his legs, tearing open the condom package and rolling the rubber onto his cock.
Then you lean over Jaehyun, kissing him gently, grabbing him with one hand and guiding him to your core. You sink down slowly, and you moan into each others mouths while he tangles his fingers in your hair, keeping your lips on his.
Actions most definitely speak louder than words, and the kiss is one that has you even more breathless than before. It’s not like any other kisses you’ve shared with the street racer. This one truly means something, and your pussy flutters just thinking about it.
Jaehyun groans, one hand moving to your hip, and you take it as a sign to move. You begin to bounce on him slowly, revelling in the feeling of his cock filling you up just right.
It’s interesting to be on top, to be the one in control, and Jaehyun lets you have free range in your motions. The hand on your hip isn’t insistent, he doesn’t prompt you to go harder or faster-
Maybe the slowness of it, the deliberate movements, are part of what makes this an act of love, not just fucking.
It’s not hard, or fast, or rough, but it’s still making your toes curl as you ride him, your lips locked in a passionate kiss. “Jae,” you groan, thighs beginning to burn-
He reads you like the back of his hand, and in one motion, he’s rolling you onto your back. Jaehyun lets out a small wince, and you immediately double check him, cupping his face while he slides the ice pack onto the bed next to you. “Maybe I should stay on top-”
“No,” he shakes his head, “I’m okay. It’s my turn to want something.”
“Yeah?” you smile up at him. “And what is it that you want?”
“I want to make you feel good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your throat, his noze nuzzling your skin. “Want to take care of you. Want to make you cum.”
You whimper at his words, gently wrapping your legs around his hips while he begins to thrust into you.
“Put your hands above your head for me, baby,” he instructs.
You follow through, and he captures your wrists against his palm, pinning them to the bed.
For someone who’s just been in a crash, his motions are still quite fluid and rhythmic. His lips continue against your neck, and you gasp when he suckles on your sweet spot.
“If-” you swallow thickly, “If it hurts, let me know.”
“Oh, baby,” Jaehyun smiles against your skin, “Love always hurts. I’m not going to start complaining about it now.”
The word ‘love’ makes you tingle with emotion, and you gasp as he begins to fuck you harder, pressing you against the bed.
“Can you rub your clit for me, baby? Your mouth felt so good, and I don’t think I can last that much longer,” he admits.
He lets go of your wrists and without a word of protest, you slip your hand between your bodies, seeking out your most sensitive spot. You release a loud groan at the contact, pussy clenching around his cock, which earns a moan from the man above you.
“Jae,” you whisper, loving the taste of his name on your lips. “You’re so good to me-”
“You deserve it,” he assures you, a hand coming down to your hip, pinning you exactly where he wants you while you work yourselves closer and closer to the edge.
He’s fucking you harder now, but it still feels like making love, and your free hand reaches to tangle in his hair, pulling him from your throat so you can feel his lips on yours again.
You love the way you’re both moaning freely now, and his sounds only add to your pleasure.
“I’m close,” you tell him, dragging your tongue across his lip and earning a loud groan.
“Me too,” he breathes heavily. “You feel so good-”
“Just what the doctor ordered,” you joke, and Jaehyun lets out a small laugh.
“Exactly,” he agrees. “Sex with the love of your life daily, for a week, think you can handle that?”
“Jae,” you whisper. “I’m the love of your life?”
“I’d like to think so.”
He’s being so soft, so vulnerable, and you wonder how long he’s been thinking about this.
In your relationships, you’ve always been the first one to say ‘I love you,’ the first one to be in your feels- and now you know what it’s like to be on the other side of that. He’s confident in you, confident in your connection, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.
“I love you too,” you confess, and it feels so right- none of your other love confessions in life have ever felt like this, and you know it must be true.
Jaehyun groans loudly. “I’m gonna cum, baby, you really know how to sweet talk a guy-”
“I’m gonna cum too,” you tell him, gasping against his lips while you rub your clit harder.
“Cum with me, baby,” Jaehyun says softly, kissing you while you both reach your highs.
Your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, and you moan loudly together, tongues dancing while your bodies move fluidly, like they were made to move.
Nothing has ever felt this natural, and your orgasm is all consuming because of it.
Your entire body is tingling with emotion and pleasure, and you can feel that the racer has goosebumps, letting out a small shiver while he fucks you through it.
It’s as if he’s the very air you need to breathe, and you’ve been deprived for so long- there’s a clarity with him, and everything is all the more intense because of it.
Jaehyun groans as you both come down from your highs, and his motions slowly come to a stop, until he’s simply laying on top of you, lips still pressed to your own.
You kiss for a while more, fingers moving away from your clit so you can tangle both hands in his soft hair, keeping him where he is.
“Stay here tonight,” Jaehyun whispers, pulling away from you to look down at your face.
“Stay here?” you repeat.
“Yeah, stay with me. Please.”
You’ve never slept over with him, never passed out after sex in his arms-
“Okay,” you nod.
“I’m just going to get rid of this condom, and then we can cuddle or something,” he says, in a way that’s almost shy.
You watch him, endeared as he disposes the condom and returns to join you, slipping under the covers and holding out his arms expectantly. You move closer, careful about his injured ribs, and you rest your head against his shoulder while he pets your hair.
“I’m going to tell Johnny,” you say.
“Really?”
“Uh huh,” you nod, feeling very confident with your decision. “You just told me you think I’m the love of your life, Jae. We’ve already been hiding this for months, and I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“I don’t want to hide either,” he agrees.
“So it’s settled,” you smile. “I’ll tell Johnny, and he’ll just have to deal with it.”
“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Jaehyun admits. “I thought about it so many times, but I always figured you’d want to keep it a secret from your brother. That guy has some anger issues.”
“Says the dude that tried to punch him today.”
“After he hit me with his car,” Jaehyun points out.
“You have me there,” you concede with a laugh.
“I love you, Lil Suh,” he says suddenly, and it makes you hold him tighter, tucking your face against his shoulder.
“I love you too…” you put on your Mark’s announcer voice, “the man of the evening, the winner of the last race-”
“I lost the last race,” Jaehyun points out.
“Not to me,” you tell him. “Tonight, I think we’re both winners.”
Jaehyun laughs. “You have me there.”
Johnny stares at you in shock. “Sorry, I must have heard you wrong,” he laughs finally, “it just sounded like you told me you’re dating my arch nemesis.”
“Do I have to say it again?” you sigh.
Your brother’s smile drops. “You can’t be serious, Lil Suh.”
“I am though,” you say firmly. “I’m dating Jeong Jaehyun.”
“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to date street racers?” Johnny stands up abruptly. “They die all the time!”
“Not if you stop trying to kill him!” you shoot back. “Jeez, John, you act as if you’ve never had a girlfriend yourself.”
“I don’t date street racers,” Johnny says, refusing to see the parallel.
“You know, all things considered,” you sigh, “you’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”
“Hyuck warned me this was going on,” Johnny cocks his head to the side. “Said you were the first person rushing to help Jae after the crash. I guess I’ve been processing it all weekend.”
“So you’re okay with me dating your supposed mortal enemy?”
“I never said I’m okay with it,” Johnny points out. “Look, do I hate the guy? Yes. Is that hate founded on jealousy that he might one day be better than me in a car? Also yes. I just figure, if you’re dating him, you can convince him to get Yuta to change his underlights so they’re not purple anymore.”
“So that’s it?” you ask in shock. “That’s your condition in him dating me? That he changes his light colour?!”
“We all know purple is my aesthetic.”
“Done, I’ll let him know right away.”
“You think he’s actually gonna change the colour?”
“Of course he’s going to change the colour, this guy loves me, Johnny-”
Your brother blinks at you. “He does?”
“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.
“And you love him?”
You nod again, looking down.
“Then I’m happy for you, Lil Suh.” Johnny reaches out, setting a hand on your shoulder. “Just promise not to bring any Lil Jeong’s into the world anytime soon, yeah?”
You find yourself laughing, shaking your head at your stupid older brother. “I promise.”
“Good, because if he knocked you up, I’d really start to have problems, even if he does change his car colours.” Johnny assesses you. “You remember what mom always said about condoms-”
“Oh my god!” you scream. “Yes, Johnny! We’re being safe! Holy shit- this conversation is so over-”
“I wouldn’t be doing my brotherly duties if I didn’t make you grossed out. Think of me making that condom comment every time you sleep with him.”
You’re quick to rush from the room, yelling back, “That doesn’t make things any better!” But you can’t help the smile on your face- you can’t believe that he’s okay with this, that he didn’t punch a hole through a wall-
You think about what Johnny had said, about the jealousy of another driver who could take him on.
Maybe after all of this, they might even be friends. Or, maybe more likely, you’ve simply watched too many Fast and Furious movies.
☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! There's just something about this Jae- I had so much fun writing this fic
🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!
🔮 preview. Jaehyun presses one last kiss to your lips, grinning all the while. Then, when he pulls back, he flattens his hand over your mouth. “If you need me to let up,” he says, leaning forward so he can drag his tongue over the shell of your ear, “just lick my hand. Got it baby?” You nod, already enjoying the feeling of being held down with a hand over your mouth. You really can’t believe you’re doing this in your childhood bedroom with your stepmom sleeping just down the hall- But at the same time, if there was ever a man who would convince you to fuck inhibition and do this, it would be Jaehyun. He just has a hold over you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.
cw/ tw. Unprotected/raw sex, sex while her mom sleeps down the hall, inklings of impreg/cum/being full kink, hand over her mouth, pussy/cock touching, praise, orgasm countdown, mutual orgasm, dry humping, aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby, angel.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.3k I teaser wc. 270
🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!reader
bonus
It’s the first time Jaehyun is meeting your extended family, at a summer barbecue, and so far, the conversation has stuck to general things like steak preferences and beef versus chicken. However, as you all take your seats at the long outdoor food table, your stepmom finally addresses your boyfriend.
“So I hear you street race like Johnny,” she muses.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jaehyun nods respectfully. “It’s actually how I met your daughter.”
“I guess good things do come out of it then,” your mom sighs, leaning back in her chair, “and please, call me Myoryon or Mama Suh.” She assesses the way Jaehyun sits close to you, his hand holding yours on top of the table. “You two look good together.”
“Thank you, Mama Suh.” Jaehyun smiles softly.
“She looks happy,” your stepmother continues. “I’ve never seen her happy like this.”
“Then I guess I’m doing my job right,” Jaehyun gives your hand a small squeeze and Johnny lets out a puking sound.
“I’m going to lose my appetite,” your stepbrother warns.
“I already have,” Hyuck nods, pushing his food away. “Not that your cooking isn’t amazing, Mama Suh.”
“It’s alright,” your mom assures him. “I understand jealousy can upset anyone’s stomach.”
“Jealousy?!” Hyuck bellows, and Johnny lets out a loud laugh.
“When was the last time you brought a girl over?” Mama Suh questions, smiling softly even while digging into your brother’s best friend.
Hyuck sputters, tongue tied.
“And how about you, Johnny?” She turns her gaze to him. “If I remember correctly, you’ve called a few times about some arch nemesis being a better driver than you- I assume this arch nemesis is Jaehyun.”
☀️to read the full 3.3k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here
👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here
🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list
🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader I ft. Haechan, Jungwoo, Jeno & Johnny
🔮 synopsis. Every year, seven days before Valentines day, sororities and frats are paired together, and eligible himbos, hoes, bimbos and fuckboys alike volunteer to be raffled for a chance to become the year’s V Week Spy. V Week is open season, with outings and parties tailored to be the perfect excuse for sexscapades, with the knowledge than 1 boy and 1 girl are undercover, grading sexual performances. Once the week is over, at the annual Valentines Day Party, the evaluations are presented- It’s a bad time to be unsure about someone’s feelings towards you, and an even worse time to fall in love.
cw/ tw. multiple smut scenes, fingering, oral (f receiving), mentions of mirror kink, lots of sexual implications, dry humping, boob worship, corruption kink, dacryphilia, service dom, dirty talk, praise, dom/sub themes, ‘service dom’, thigh riding, unprotected sex, etc…
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 20.1k
🍭 aus. frat au, forestry major Jaehyun, Valentines Day theme, (please note, this is not part of my official frat universe)
☀️ mlist + an. This fic takes place over the span of a 7 day countdown to Valentines day, each day ends with a scoreboard to keep track of the Spys, please note: in fic characters do not see the scoreboard until the reveal on the 14th, and all girl names on board are default Korean to keep up with the male names being that of Korean kpop idols :)
Feb 7th, Saturday, seven days till V day
“Thank you all for gathering,” frat president Lee Taeyong says, following his yearly script off of a cue card he’s holding awkwardly in his hands. “As per tradition, I will be reading out the V Week rules, which are as follows. V week starts every year on February seventh, and goes to Valentines day on the fourteenth. On February seventh, which is today, an outside party hired by the Greek System will conduct a pairing ceremony, pulling a sorority name, followed by a frat name, out of two different hats. Once a frat and sorority are paired, each house will have a secret choosing ceremony to identify a V Week Spy. The point of V Week is for the paired frat and sorority to have as much no-strings-attached sex as they want, and participate in a number of V Week events such as our Luncheon tomorrow and movie nights. The V Week Spy’s job is to secretly be evaluating people on their sexual performance, and hit a target of at least five evaluations within the week without getting caught. Then, at the Valentines Day party, the evaluation scores will be revealed. Remember, the more people you sleep with, the better chances you have of getting on ‘The V Week Evaluation List’- so this is a reminder to play V Week according to your preferences. The Greek System holds no responsibility over any hurt feelings or STI’s that may be spread during this week, however, protected sex and pre planned STI checks are recommended.”
The room lets out a chuckle and Taeyong sighs. No one ever does the STI tests, however there hasn’t been a sti incident during V Week in ages, and the case of chlamydia that swept over the entire Exo house three years ago still incurs nightmares.
Pairing: Secret Agent! Yuta X Secret Agent!Y/N (afab)
Series Summary: You and Yuta are secret agents that are paired up for a big mission, and despite hating each other's guts, you get married..makes sense, right?
Contains: enemies to lovers shenanigans, fluff, comedy?, violence, gun mention, knife mention, cursing, cheating mention, death mention, alcohol use, smut (mask play? g*n play, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, degradation, unprotected (be safe tho!), thigh riding, impregnation kink, sir kink, toy usage (it's a lot, i know but are we really surprised?).
Word Count: 11K
A/N: this is a short series but it’s definitely one of my favorites!! I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading and supporting us :))) also! Please check out Yuta’s movie High X Low: The Worst X, it was SOOOO GOOOOOD and Yuta is such an amazing actor!! Go support him❤️
—————
[One Year Later]
You stare at the ring Yuta gave you. You’re about to go on a date with a man you actually like, so why wear it?
“Do you wear it in memory of someone else?” Jungwoo asked you as you had your first outing together at a cafe a few days prior. You looked at the ring with adoration while spinning it around your finger. “Nah..not really.” You said to him while shaking your head.
He laughed. “So take it off then…make space for a new one.” You smirked and looked into his eyes while raising your eyebrows. “Bring the new one first.”
You were only teasing him, but now that you were getting ready to go out again, you decided that you really should move on.
You slide the ring off and place it in your jewelry box on your dresser before leaving your place.
[A Week Later]
Yuta throws his briefcase to the floor and plops down onto his couch. He sighs and lays his head back. He thinks about you and wonders what you’re up to, so as he winds down mentally from work, he decides to open his tracker app and check your movements.
At first everything seems normal, but then he notices that the ring hasn't moved from your apartment for about a week now. He sits up straight as his brows furrow. Did something happen to you? Did you finally take it off? No, you wouldn’t dare do that to him. Were you killed in your apartment? All these thoughts ran through his head, he was imagining the worst scenarios and it made him go crazy in the confinement of his home. He decides to take a short vacation and pay you a visit.
[Two Days Later]
You’re having yet another fantastic date with Jungwoo. He’s charismatic, sweet, and just irresistible. You go out clubbing after dinner and get drunk together. You fall into your apartment while making out, your hands pulling his buttons loose as he grabs your ass through your dress tightly. You're so enraptured with each other, giggling and enjoying the cloud 9 feeling of being drunk and lustful, neither of you notice the man in the corner of the living room.
Yuta flips the light on suddenly, making you both jump and stop kissing.
He crosses his arms and walks closer. “Oh..am I interrupting something?”
Jungwoo is frightened, he immediately starts wiping away your lipstick from his lips and stepping back. “I thought you said you were single?”
You’re frightened too, it’s been so long since you’ve seen Yuta, but he looks exactly the same. Hot and dangerous.
Yuta stands over you, his fiery eyes boring holes into your skull, and you aren’t sure why this feeling of guilt is overwhelming you. “Single?? Oh wow, that’s news to me. Our anniversary was just two weeks ago, wasn’t it, honey?”
You step back and snap out of it. “Yuta! What the hell are you talking about?! You know it was just for the mission!”
“Mission?” Jungwoo asks and your eyes widen, you realize that you almost revealed your true profession to him.
“Wait..that’s not what I-“ you turn to Jungwoo.
“Yeah, honey..the mission of creating a marriage between two high school sweethearts.” Yuta continues to lie while Jungwoo buttons his shirt up. You swallow hard and try desperately not to look as drunk as you feel.
“High-?” Jungwoo asks curiously.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you? She’s had my heart since the first day of junior year.”
You turn to Yuta with a look of disbelief. “What the hell?!”
Jungwoo isn’t sure if Yuta is serious or not but he does know that he looks scary and upset as hell, and that he wants nothing to do with him. “I’ll just leave.”
“Yeah..you should go.” Yuta still stares at you.
You turn back to Jungwoo, walking after him as he opens your front door to leave. “W-wait! No it’s not true! I can explain.”
“Why would you lie about your actual wedding ring? Jesus Christ I’ve gotta go, I should’ve known better!” Jungwoo shakes his head.
“Wait!” You try to stop him, but he slams the door shut.
You turn back to Yuta who only smirks. “I’m..gonna kill you!” You launch after him while holding your hand up. You attempt to slap him but miss because of your drunken state. Yuta grabs your wrist and pulls you close to his chest. “I missed you too…sweetheart.”
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
“I should say the same to you, I only came all the way here because I was worried about you.”
You walk over to the kitchen to get yourself some water. “I knew I should’ve changed the damn locks after you left.” You burp out loudly to annoy him.
“Wait…Worried about me? After all this time?” You say after realizing what he confessed to you.
“Yeah..the ring stopped moving…you..stopped moving.” He attempts to caress your face, but you brush his hand away as a look of realization crosses your face.
You look to where the ring is now in your bedside drawer.
“You—you’re insane..you put a tracker in the RING?”
He chuckles. “You suck as a spy, I suggest you do something else like become my full time maid.” He sits on the couch and puts his feet up on the center table. “Maybe you’re better at cleaning things up.”
You scoff and grab the gun under your counter. You walk over to the couch and point it at him, he doesn’t feel threatened at all tho. All he can think about is how sexy you look in your tight black dress and how much he wants to kill Jungwoo for putting his hands on your gorgeous ass. “How dare you get comfortable on my couch after telling me you’ve violated my privacy for a year now?! I’m gonna kill you! And I’m serious this time!”
He laughs. “Okay, go ahead. But before you do, I think I deserve to see you in the set I bought first.”
You blink rapidly while trying not to get flustered by how good he looks in his black turtleneck with his long black hair tied back. He smiles while you get angry with him.
“You’re unbelievable!” You yell and stomp to your bedroom, closing the sliding doors loudly.
He rushes to the door and talks against it so you can hear him. “Just tell me you missed me and I’ll go away again”
“Why would I do that?!” You say as you change into your nightgown.
“Because it’s the truth.”
“NO Yuta! The truth is that I can’t believe you’ve tracked me this entire time, I can’t believe I ever trusted you and even worked with you. The truth is I was just getting to know a good man, a man I *actually* liked and now..that’s gone, Yuta. The truth is that we never should’ve met.” You say quietly, but Yuta heard you clearly.
He stays silent, hand falling from the door and to his side.
After a few seconds, you only hear him chuckle. “That’s fair, y/n…you have your boundaries and I overstepped. I’ll end this game now.”
You hear the front door lock and you’re saddened to see him go, you’re even saddened that he didn’t call you ‘sweetheart’ just one last time.
——————
[A Few Months Later]
You’re assigned a solo mission where you visit an art gallery assumed to be involved in money laundering. You wear a baseball cap, sunglasses and a T-shirt to look unsuspecting during your visit.
While looking at some of the pieces you notice the owner, Miah, is not too far away and could possibly answer a few questions for you, you’d just have to listen in to every conversation she has on the phone.
“Yes..that date works for me..maybe we could discuss..” her voice gets lower as she whispers. “That..hotel?”
You lean against a wall as you listen closely. She starts to walk towards her office, you need to get closer
As you make your way towards her, a man suddenly appears dressed nicely in a shirt and tie and glasses. He leans into her and kisses her cheek. “So sorry I’m late sweetheart, I picked up your favorite though! Boba Tea with extra sugar!” You recognize his voice.
“No fucking way..” you whisper to yourself.
He smiles widely and turns to the side, confirming your suspicion. It’s Yuta.
He laughs with her and holds her hand as she gazes up at him. It was strange to see him so incredibly sweet for once.
He looks over at you as they walk away and winks.
Your eyes widen. Why is he on the same mission as you? But more importantly, why do you feel jealous?
You roll your eyes and run to the bathroom to check your messages from Haechan. There were no new updates. Could it be possible that Yuta went rogue and decided to do this on his own? Could she really be his girlfriend?
As you leave the restroom you open the door to find Yuta leaned against the wall.
“Jesus! You can't just hang out outside of a women’s restroom like that.”
“Someone’s a little jealous.” He smirks.
You roll your eyes. “Cut the b.s Yuta, I just wanna know why you’re here?”
“I should be asking you that question.”
You show him your phone. “This is MY assignment.”
He shrugs. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”
You scoff. “It’s right there..the messages from..”
You look back at your phone and see you did in fact receive a new message from HQ:
pull back, target under watch of Agent1111
“What? It was just there, I swear.”
“So you can’t do your work well, you can’t even read texts properly and follow orders. Don’t worry though, a position as my..I mean, our maid is open. I’ll talk to my girlfriend about hiring you.” He winks again.
You kick his shin, causing him to bend over and groan.
“I’ll make sure to be the one responsible for your death one day.”
For the remainder of your visit, you stand by and watch Yuta flirt with the lady, you can’t help but feel so jealous. She’s so googly-eyed over him she doesn’t even notice you hovering around a few feet away. They kiss for what seems to be the 30th time within an hour and you decide you’ve seen enough.
You drive home, unable to watch any more.
Later that night, you take a nap, having set an alarm to wake up and do computer work. But as you sleep, Yuta cooks dinner for you.
It’s not until you smell an exciting airman of garlic and onions that you wake up confused and ready to fight.
You fling your sliding door open while holding a gun and pointing it towards your kitchen. “Who-?!”
Your heart becomes warm when you see Yuta.
You sigh and place the gun down on the counter. “Of course.”
“You sleep a lot for someone who doesn’t do anything beneficial to the company.” He stirs the pot.
He wears a white long sleeve shirt and jeans with his hair tied up now. The muscles of his arms and back show through clearly and you become hot at the sight. You take a seat on the stool facing the kitchen and cross your arms. “How’s your girlfriend?” Is the first thing you ask him so it’s clear to see it’s on your mind.
Yuta laughs. “Good…nicer than you.” But she isn’t prettier, not even close is what he thinks to himself.
“She doesn’t suspect you?”
“Nah..she’s too dickmatized to think about anything else.”
You grimace. “Ew, listen to yourself.”
“You just wouldn’t understand.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Why are you so sweet to her?”
“Does it upset you?” He looks over his shoulder and smiles.
You cross your arms and look away. “Not really…as a matter of fact I’m relieved. I’m not the one that has to pretend to be attracted to you.”
Yuta laughs out. “Pretend? Whew..we got an Oscar award-winning actress here then!”
He places the dish featuring sautéed broccoli and chicken in front of you. “Eat up.”
You pick the fork up and start eating. “Just don’t..call her sweetheart.. it’s corny and..dated.”
Yuta chuckles. “Sureee, but you need to stay out of my way. All you’ll do is mess things up.”
Your mouth falls. “That’s not true! And it’s my choice whether or not I want to see this through to the end.”
He leans over the counter. “It’s not your mission, sweetheart. So stay.out.of.my.way.” He rubs his knuckles into your hair.
Before you can say anything else he leaves.
[Three Days Later]
Yuta should’ve known you well enough by now to know that you don’t listen to any man, let alone him. So you follow Miah around anyway.
You decide to sneak into her house to look for any evidence as her front gate is only open when she is home. Despite being involved in money laundering, she lives in a simple, humble house to avoid any attention from the government. You still disengaged her house cameras through an app before entering though. When you sneak in, you hear quiet whimpers and moans. Could it be…?
You make a face of disgust as the sounds you hear confirm your question. She was definitely getting it in with someone, making it the best (and probably worst) time to look for evidence. You ignore her moans and search her home office for clues.
After about 20 minutes, you can’t find anything and the sounds have now stopped. You needed to get out immediately. You tiptoe past her bedroom door, but can’t help but be curious as to whether or not Yuta is the one she’s with. So you peak through the crack and squint.
But you don’t see anything, you can only hear the shower running.
Suddenly, Yuta pops up behind you, grabbing your wrist and shoving you into the wall beside it. He instantly notices you’ve started wearing the ring again.
“I thought I heard something..” he grumbles.
Your eyes grow in shock. “Y-Yuta?”
He is shirtless with just a towel around his waist. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay away!” He whisper-yells with an angry expression. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”
“I-I’m trying to help.”
“This isn’t your mission, we aren’t working together on this one, why don’t you understand that!” His hold on your wrist tightens.
For once you genuinely feel scared by Yuta’s expression, you really pissed him off this time. To make things worse, his hair is messy and he smells like women’s perfume. Both his abs and lips are stain with lipstick and its too fucking hot to ignore. Despite being the wrong time, you couldn’t help but remember his kiss and touch the last night you worked together.
He is weakened by your beautiful eyes below him, he wants to scream. He’s only tough on you because he knows you could get hurt by getting so close, but he also hates how worried he is. He needed to distance himself now.
“Y/n..I don’t know what you expect from this. For us to get closer or for me to thank you, but it isn’t going to happen. Go back to the office, pick up a case that easy to handle and do your fucking job. Leave this mission and leave me alone. You’re fucking useless.”
Your mouth falls open as he speaks with genuine disdain, and before you can say anything she calls out for him.
“Yuta! Where are you, baby?”
“Coming!” He responds quickly then looks back at you and swallows hard. “Leave now.”
You nod and hurry out of the house without looking back. The last thing you’d want is for him to see your eyes filling to the brim with tears.
———
[A Few Weeks Later]
You decided to start a new case, but keep your eye on the art gallery one regardless. Was it for the case or for Yuta? You aren’t sure.
The art gallery has a major event in which a new exhibition is revealed, so you get dressed up and join as a spectator.
You wear something calm to blend in with the crowd, a simple black satin dress that falls to your ankles.
The place is bustling with hundreds of visitors, amongst them are government officials, as well as the Miah and Yuta.
But even in a thick crowd, Yuta sees you. You make eye contact for a split second, but you ignore him and continue to walk around and look at the art.
You hoped he’d finish the assignment up quickly so he could go back to Tokyo and stop haunting you. You just couldn’t get over him with him being so close to you.
While staring at a piece, a man walks up beside you. “This piece was inspired by the artist's own psychedelic trips.”
“Oh..wow! That’s interesting.” You look up at him and realize he is quite handsome.
The man looks down at you and gives you a dazzling smile. “I may or may not know him myself.”
You chuckle and the two of you start to talk. He was a sweet guy, deep down you hoped he could eventually give you some intel once you learned more about his connection to the gallery. If he didn’t, however, he was still nice to talk to.
“I can show you some of my personal faves…” the man takes your hand and leads you to another part of the gallery.
Yuta watches from far away, feeling himself grow jealous when you smile and laugh with another man. He looks away and tries to focus on Miah and her conversations with the officials.
A few minutes later however, Yuta can’t seem to find you anywhere. Last time he saw you, you were walking to a more quiet area with the man. He didn’t see where the man placed a cloth over your mouth and snuck you out through the back.
You were tied up and passed out in the back of the “nice” man’s car. He completely caught you off guard as he didn’t seem like the type to truly be involved in all this.
“Yeah..I’ve got her.” The man says over the phone as he drives fast. It’s the last thing you hear before passing out completely.
Nearly an hour later, you’re woken up by the feeling of cold water crashing over your entire body. You scream and jump up, but realize you’re tied to a chair.
“Fuck…” you tremble as you open your eyes.
“Who are you? What agency do you work for and what are you guys planning?” An older man asks you.
You refuse to answer, staying silent as another younger man throws his fist into your stomach.
They ask you the same questions over and over, failing to get you to break the oath you swore to your agency. You put your life on the line to protect everything, it’s what you signed up for. Regardless, you get beat up badly in the process and all you can think is that these are the last moments of your life.
Meanwhile, Yuta starts to worry and struggles to cover it up. He is absent from group conversations and looks around anxiously.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Miah tugs his shirt and asks him.
He quickly looks back at her and gives a small smile. “Oh nothing, I’ll be right back, there’s something I forgot to submit for work. And my buddy just texted me about it. I’m sorry, babe.”
“Oh it’s okay! Go ahead, I’ll see you later.” She waves him off.
Yuta carefully walks back to his car, looking around for anyone watching him. Once he gets in, he opens his tracker app in hopes that you’re still wearing the ring. He is relieved when he sees you are. He heads towards your location, hoping that you are okay.
By the time he gets there, the isolated building is in flames and the men are gone, having left your broken and bruised body to burn to death.
“Y/n!” He runs around looking for any opening he can get through and finally finds one. Glass and wood falls everywhere, but he isn’t new to this. He dodges the debris with ease, ducking and jumping over anything in his way to get to you.
After a few seconds, he finally finds you passed out and tied to the chair. “Y/n!” He shakes your body, but you don’t wake up. You’ve inhaled so much carbon dioxide, you’re unresponsive.
He quickly unties you from the chair and holds you in his arms as he runs outside.
When he gets out, the building explodes, catapulting debris everywhere. He isn’t far enough and a piece of wood pierces your abdomen area as tiny pieces of glass cut his face up. He curses then hurriedly gets you into the back of the car. Your eyes are bruised and your breathing is weak. He notices that a few of your fingers are disfigured and broken, those fuckers really went in on you to get information.
To make matters worse a piece of wood now sticks out causing you to cough up blood. He starts to tear up at the sight. “Hang on tight, baby, I’m gonna get you help, okay?”
You hear Yuta’s voice but it fades away.
“Just stay with me..because if you die I’m gonna kill you.”
Yuta gets you to the underground hospital specifically created for undercover agents.
“Help! We need help right away!” Yuta yells while holding you in his arms as nurses rush towards him with a gurney.
[Two Weeks Later]
You’re still in a coma after being taken care of at the hospital.
Yuta visits you every day in hopes that you’ll wake up. The doctors say you’ll recover from your injuries and wake up in time, but the carbon dioxide inhalation may have done irreparable damage to your brain, so when you’d wake up is unclear to even them, the best of the best.
“You’re the worst spy ever…always getting hurt” Yuta says while standing beside your bed. He feels guilty for not being there fast enough for you. He feels guilty for not watching you more. He wipes his tears away.
“You said you’d be the one to kill me after I see you in that set, don’t fail on your promise, I hate when people do that.” he says, hoping to hear your laugh and see your eyes open as you prepare a snarky response for him.
Haechan knocks in the door and steps in. “Yuta, thank you for your hard work. With the evidence you’ve collected we were able to arrest Miah and others connected. But now it’s time to go, it’s been two weeks, you have other cases to pick up in Tokyo.”
Yuta shakes his head while still watching you. “Can’t..need to make sure she wakes up first…she can’t break her promise.”
Haechan sighs. “These doctors are the best of the best and if they say she will, then she will, don’t worry, she has more than enough help around here. I think you should get back”
Yuta turns to him. “Just a few more days…please..” I just want to see her beautiful eyes, one more time, is what he wants to say, but doesn’t.
Haechan recognizes the look of love anyway, he knows Yuta is the one filling your hospital room with bouquets of flowers every day. He knows he has feelings for you and so, he nods. “Okay…I’ll..talk to your boss over there to get you some more time here..only because you’ve helped us a great deal.”
Yuta bows slightly. “Thank you.”
“When did you start to like her so much?” Haechan raises an eyebrow.
Yuta scoffs. “Like who? Her? I’m just being nice.”
Haechan chuckles. “Yeah..sure.”
[Four Days Later]
Yuta comes to your room as usual but as he is about to turn in, he hears you laughing. He peaks around the corner and sees you smiling, your pretty eyes crinkling at the sides as you talk to the nurse. He smiles to himself. He hands the bouquet of flowers he has in his hands to another nurse headed towards your room. “Please..give these to her for me.”
The nurse smiles at Yuta, who she’s seen everyday since you’ve been there. “Oh! She’s awake now sir, she woke up last night. Would you like to go in and speak with her?”
He shakes his head. “No..I have somewhere to be. Please tell her they all came from Haechan.”
Her smile drops as she looks at the bouquet in confusion. Why wouldn’t he want to talk with you after waiting so long?
Yuta remembers how mean he was to you the last time you spoke. He couldn’t bear to see you again, as the guilt weighed heavy on his heart. He did love you and this proved it, but he couldn’t allow himself to show that to you.
He leaves the hospital and heads home before preparing for his flight.
Haechan goes in to see you the next day. “Y/n, nice to see you smiling again.”
You smile back. “It’s all thanks to you and this dramatic collection of flowers you got me.”
Haechan chuckles. “Actually…that would be Yuta’s doing.”
“Yuta?” Your eyes grow.
“Yeah..he saved you from the building and then visited you every day.”
Your heart trembles.
“W-where’s he now?”
Haechan smiled slightly. “He should be heading back home..to Tokyo today”
You sit in silence as a wave of sadness falls on you.
“Don’t get any ideas! I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but it isn’t permitted within the company.” Haechan says, somewhat jokingly.
You scoff and shake off your thoughts. “Between me and that guy? Nah..he’s the worst.”
Haechan nods. “Good.”
But you lied, you felt an attachment to him, maybe you did love him.
[A Few Months Later]
You decided to take a trip to Tokyo to surprise Yuta after your full recovery. There’s just one little problem. You don’t know where he lives.
So you break company policy by overriding the firewalls protecting each agent’s private information. You look Yuta up and successfully get his file, complete with his address, biography, and case history.
You hurriedly write the address down and prepare for your flight.
A week later, you find yourself getting ready to meet Yuta. You admit, you feel somewhat pathetic for getting all dressed up for him. What if he didn’t accept you? What if he wanted nothing to do with you? What if he lives with his parents?
Nonetheless, you put on a tight black dress with your butterfly set underneath before taking a taxi to his house.
You knock on the front door of the serene house, but don’t hear anything. No one’s home. You sigh “That’s fine, I’ll just wait for him.” To your surprise, the back door is unlocked so you let yourself in. It’s quiet, nice and clean, and you’re surprised by how easy it was to get in.
You walk around, taking in how beautiful his place is. Eventually, you arrive at his bedroom. There are many picture frames on his dresser and 2 on the walls and when you take a closer look, you’re shocked.
You lift a picture up towards you to see Yuta and a beautiful woman smiling and holding hands while at a beach. The photo beside it made your heart drop. It was a wedding photo of the two. You carefully place the picture back down and look into the bathroom.
You see “Him” and “Hers” labeled towels. Beside the bathroom is his closet, filled with a woman’s clothes.
“Of course..of course he’s married” your eyes become watery and you go to leave immediately. Yuta had been leading you on this entire time. He was using you for when he got bored of his wife back home, turning you into a fill in while taking on missions outside of Tokyo. You feel even more pitiful than you did before. How could you be tricked so easily? But then again, Yuta did tell you that you were nothing together, that that one mission was simply..a duty.
You take the tracker ring off and place it in a decorative jar beside his front door, but remember to leave through the back.
After taking a taxi back home, you adjust your return flight for the next day.
When Yuta gets home, he resumes his daily habit of checking on you. He opens his tracker and is confused to see that your ring is…right there with him. He stands up from his couch and looks around carefully. He steps into his bedroom, wondering if you’re there hiding. But out of the corner of his eye, he notices something out of place on the dresser.
One of the picture frames had been moved slightly. You were here and when you picked the picture up, you placed it back incorrectly. He swallows hard when he realizes you‘ve discovered the truth.
[Two Months Later]
Things go back to normal. You start to take on other missions and train harder to develop your skills. You’re getting stronger, smarter, and faster, but it doesn’t help that you think of Yuta nearly every second of each day. You wonder what he’s up to and why he never told you about his wife. Did you really deserve that information though? You’re secret agents at the end of the day, it was never supposed to be this personal.
It’s time for your fencing class, a one-on-one battle with a new partner from the agency while your trainer watches. You’ve beat every partner thus far, making you the top contender, so you aren’t worried about this match.
You step onto the mat and assume your starting position. The person in front of you does the same. And so, you begin your battle, dodging their speedy attacks. They do the same, never letting you get close to them after you swing.
“Agent 73.. Focus!” Your trainer yells. After several minutes of fighting the most difficult opponent you’ve ever had thus far, you start to grow upset. You were doing so well, annihilating anyone that challenged you, but somehow, this person is just as good.
They let out a grunt after sliding to the right to dodge your quick attack, letting you know that your opponent is in fact a man. Based on the size of his feet, you had already suspected, but weren’t completely sure.
You just can’t seem to catch them off guard, no matter how fast you move and in a fit of anger at your incompetence, you “accidentally” elbow his face. He steps back in shock as his mask falls to the floor.
You gasp when you recognize the handsome man’s face. Yuta.
He smirks and wipes blood trickling from his nose with his thumb. You drop your sword while frowning. Why’d it have to be him?
You walk away before he can say anything, stomping through the girl’s locker room as he runs after you.
You swing your locker door open and start to take the uniform off. You drag your shirt over your body quickly as you hear him step in anyway.
“You’ve still got that short fuze, huh?” He leans against the locker beside yours.
You ignore him, still shoving your things in your backpack.
“Come on, y/n..I’ve got a pretty bad nose bleed because of you, the least you could do is give me a welcome back kiss.”
You slam the locker door and turn to leave, but he blocks you. You glare at him. “Get out of my face.”
“Aren’t you happy to see me? You hit me like you hate me, but I kinda liked that.”
You scoff. “Oh really? What does your wife have to say about that? Huh? Does she like it when you flirt with other women?”
Yuta’s face falls, he’s about to respond, but you interrupt him. “I don’t know if it’s some kinda kink of yours to cheat on someone, but I’m not gonna be part of that, so fuck off. Don’t come by me again, don’t even look at me. And you can take that set back too! I bet she’d look better in it.” You push past him.
“W-wait, y/n..” he runs after you as you stomp through the workplace halls now to get out. You bump into anyone standing in the way, too furious to even apologize.
“You’re an insane, lying asshole that fuels his confidence by flirting with women and leaving them high and dry. Don’t you feel pathetic? Don’t you feel like a whore?!” You say loudly in the halls, gaining the attention of many agents walking by.
“Y/n! Don’t do this..” he shakes his head and grabs your hand, forcing you to stop walking.
You pull it back while grunting. “Why not, Yuta?! Let’s let everyone know, I’m gonna give everyone a fair warning! This guy is a damn good spy, but you know what he’s also good at? Fucking around to get information, all while his sweet wife waits for him back home in Tokyo!! Shall we give her a call too?!” You yell loud enough for everyone to hear.
Yuta stares, but it’s not in anger, but something else. He swallows hard. “Y/n..you don’t understand.”
“What’s there to understand? You’re just like most men out there. You pretend to love your wives, you pretend to love your mistresses! You only love the attention. You’re afraid of commitment because deep down, you’re insecure!”
He shakes his head. “No..I never pretended..I never pretended to love—“
“Don’t!" you put your hand up to stop him. "don't..give me that!” You yell even louder.
Haechan sees you and everyone else staring in the halls. “Hey! What’s going on here? Everyone get back to whatever you’re doing.”
“73! In my office now! Yuta?! Out of here before I call your boss!”
Yuta walks away, his eyes looking glossy before he turns away from you.
You follow Haechan to his office and sit down with practical smoke escaping your ears.
“Y/n…what the hell was that?!” Did he just call you by your real name? Oh you’ve genuinely upset him this time. “You know some agents already believe you’re unfit to be working here again and here you are acting like this in the halls?! Do you know how unprofessional this is?”
“I’m..sorry, I..don’t know what got into me.”
Haechan sighs. “This is exactly why we don’t allow work relationships to fester.”
“I’m sorry sir, it won’t happen again. And definitely not with a married man. I apologize for being unprofessional and untrustworthy, it must have been a shock for you to see me like that.”
“Wait..wait did you say “married?”
You nod and figure you might as well tell him everything while you’re already embarrassing yourself. “I hacked the system sir..I found Yuta’s address and-“
“Well if you hacked the system, you’d see Yuta is a widow…”
Your mouth falls open as your eyes widen. “A..widow?”
Haechan nods. “So you broke company policy by hacking our computers and didn’t even take the opportunity to read his file completely?” He scoffs. “His wife passed away from a car accident a few years ago. The guy who hit her was in a high-speed chase from the police, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suffered from the criminal’s irresponsible actions. The criminal got away because of his connections to some pretty powerful people….That’s what made Yuta join us. He wanted to bring down high class criminals like him in an effort to honor his late wife. Eventually, he killed the man himself and decided to stay in the force to bring others to justice.”
Your mouth falls in silence. Tears come to your eyes. You were such a jerk to him because you thought he was a cold-hearted cheater.
Haechan crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. “Women…always jumping to conclusions. Why didn’t you just ask him?”
You blink rapidly. “Well..I..I saw the wedding pictures of them together in his house.”
“He’s had a difficult time moving on, as any of us would.” He looks out of the window. “But it was nice to see him smile when he was with you…I haven’t seen him like that before.”
You quickly get out of the chair and run out of the building to find him. “Hey! Y/N! I’m not done with you!” Haechan yells after you but you ignore him.
"God, I am going to fire her one day." Haechan grumbles.
“Yuta!! Yuta!!!” You yell, but can’t seem to find him.
He’s gone, completely out of your sight.
“Damn it!” You say to yourself while in tears. How could you be so terrible to him?
You run back into Haechan’s office.
You pant. “Phone number, I need his phone number, please.”
Haechan stares at you with a look of disbelief. “Have you completely lost your mind? You know I can’t give you that!”
“Please…I’m begging you..I have to apologize..I promise it’s the last thing I ask of you.” You place both hands on his desk and look into his eyes.
He nearly falls for the desperate look in them, but shakes his head. “It’s an absolute no-no in our company, y/n. I’m sorry..”
“Ugh!!” You leave his office and head home.
[Five Months Later]
There’s an international conference that is done ball-style to celebrate all of the agents. It takes place in an underground facility. You get dressed up and wear an emerald green gown with fallen sleeves. You look and feel gorgeous as you run your hands down your sides while looking in the mirror one last time before leaving.
You aren’t sure if Yuta will be attending, but you hope he does so you can apologize.
You enter the gold-filled mansion and join arms with your partner, Mark.
He smiles widely. He looks spectacular in a velvet red suit and large gold watch. He smells amazing too.
“You look stunning, y/n.” He speaks softly.
You fail to hide your flustered feeling, smiling uncontrollably while twirling your thumbs. “Thank you..Mark.”
He laughs and takes you to the floor where you meet other agents you’re familiar with.
Yuta spots you from the balcony and thinks of how beautiful you look. He swallows his champagne and turns to walk outside to the balcony, but just before he does, he sees your partner, Mark, take you by the waist and kiss your cheek as you smile at him fondly.
For about an hour, you’ve walked about the party saying hi to everyone, a bit disappointed that Yuta isn’t there.
“Hello agents! It’s time to announce our evening awards!” Haechan stands on a lifted stage and speaks into a microphone. You all turn towards him to wait for the announcements. The final award of the night is the biggest of all. The company awards the Agent of The Year for their dedication to their job and expertise.
“This award goes to..Mark!” Haechan begins clapping as does the large crowd.
You turned to Mark and smiled widely. “Congrats!” You give him a big hug.
Mark thanks you, then goes to make his acceptance speech. “I’m more than honored to be receiving this award tonight. There are so many talents here and I’m truly inspired by all of you. I would like to thank you for the opportunity, but I would also like to thank my beautiful..wonderful partner…y/n. She keeps me going, she lifts me up when I need her the most.” He looks down at you with wide eyes filled with love. You nod and giggle.
“He isn’t just getting lifted up by her..is he?” Yuta says to himself while crossing his arms in the corner of the ballroom. He is jealous and suspects that Mark may have a crush on you, he just doesn’t know if you like him too.
You enjoy the rest of the night with Mark who can't stop looking at you or touching your waist, with your permission of course.
He leans in close while staring at your lips, but suddenly Yuta walks up behind him and clears his throat.
Your eyes grow. “Oh! You’re here! Mark, this is Agent -"
“Yuta..” he interrupts you and shakes Mark’s hand. “May I have a word?” He looks at you sternly.
You nod quickly, feeling somewhat nervous when finally getting what you’ve been begging for, a meeting with the man you can’t stop thinking about. “Oh..ok, um excuse me Mark..”
You and Yuta talk outside on the balcony.
“Yuta…I’m..so so sorry for what I said and for making assumptions. I don’t know anything about you, and it was wrong for me to attack you. Haechan explained everything to me, and I really am sorry. I would’ve apologized sooner, but he refused to give me your contact info in respect for your privacy.” You look up at him, begging for him to look down and give you one of his smug smiles. But he doesn’t, he only looks out into the night and stands beside you. “Yuta..I just-“
“Are you guys together?” He interrupts you again.
“W-what?” You’re confused as he doesn’t seem interested in your apology.
“You and Mark..are you fucking?” And that’s when he turns to you with furrowed brows. He feels weak by the sight of your gorgeous eyes under the moonlight and the way your features seem softer at night. You smell like raspberries and roses, and he loves it, it reminds him of springtime. It’s his favorite time of the year as Cherry Blossom Trees bloom.
“Yuta!” You gasp.
He smirks as you become flustered.
You shake your head. “N-no we aren’t! But..wait, why does it matter to you anyway?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Just curious.”
You smile slightly. “Huh..still the jealous bastard after all this time.”
“And still the useless prude.” He pats your shoulder. “Glad you’re feeling better…sweetheart.” He says before walking past you and into the party.
“W-wait..that’s it?” You turn to follow him, but he’s gone.
“Damn he’s good at disappearing..” you huff.
[A Week Later]
You drift into sleep while in the bathtub after a physically draining day at work. Two well trained criminals put up a pretty good fight when you captured them.
Yuta makes himself at home and pours himself a glass of wine. He then sits on the couch facing your sliding bedroom doors where he’s able to see when you come out of the bathroom through a small crack in between them.
He had placed your butterfly lingerie set out onto the bed.
After a short nap, you rinse yourself off and come out. You start to lotion your body in a slight daze after waking up, Yuta watches your delicate fingers caress your smooth skin and wishes it were his, gliding up and down your ankles and thighs.
He decides it’s time to let you know he’s there. You hear a gun cock from outside of your bedroom door.
“Put it on.” A dark voice altered by a voice changing box says.
You nod and look back on the bed at the set. You slowly drag your panties up. “Yuta?”
“Shut it. Keep moving.”
While standing in the gap between your doors, you face the man, attempting to make out his face. You squint while tying the bra in the front of your chest slowly.
He wears a ghostface mask over a black turtleneck and black pants.
You carefully reach over your dresser beside the door to grab your gun.
Then swiftly pick it up and point it towards him. The man chuckles then stands up and walks towards you.
“You won’t kill me because you’re not sure who I am, isn’t that right?”
You nod. “You know me so well already..so that means..you won’t allow me to do this.”
You point the gun to your temple. The man hesitates when walking forward.
After a few seconds he laughs. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be doing me a favor?”
You smile slightly. “Maybe..maybe not.”
“After all, I’d finally be able to think clearly again.”
“You and I both know you want to be the one to kill me. Who am I to take that away from you?”
You place the gun down and raise your hands. “So kill me Yuta..”
“Not until I’ve fucked the pride out of you.. get on the bed.”
You do as he says and kneel on the bed while looking at the mask.
“Can I at least see your face?”
He shakes his head. “No can do, sweetheart, I like watching you like this.” He sits beside you then taps his thigh. “Come on.”
You ride his thigh as he continues to point his gun at you. Part of you felt more turned on by the role play, causing you to move faster. One hand rests at the small of your waist, carefully digging his fingertips into your soft skin. He smells so good, like citrus and cedar. He looks amazing too, his shirt hugging his arms.
After just a few minutes you reach your high, but he doesn’t allow you to stop, he pushes the barrel onto your skin. “Keep moving, whore.”
You do as he says while he holds your hip down with his other hand.
He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and puts his fingers in, making you cry out as he brushes his thumb onto your clit.
“Ah! Yuta! Please.”
“It’s “sir” to you.”
You nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Say you’re mine.”
“Make me,”
“You’re a little slut, look at you getting so turned on by this…well I’ve got something for you.”
“Look at what I found..you even suck at hiding things.” He shows you your vibrator you his in your bedside drawer..apparently not well enough.
“Damn it..” you chuckle and close your eyes tightly.
He takes his shirt off and pulls you over on top of him so your back rests against his chest as he rests against your headboard. He intertwines his legs with yours so he can control how open you are.
With your knees now bent and your chest heaving, Yuta turns the vibrator on and places it onto your clit. He uses it mercilessly and on every setting, causing you to cum multiple times while crying out his name and grabbing his arm.
You squirm in his strong arms in an attempt to get away from him and close your legs, but he just won’t budge. “Don’t fight me, you know you’ll lose, sweetheart…just give me one more..you can do it for me, right?” He whispers into your ear and his husky tone sends chills down your spine.
You cum again, trembling as you leak. You’re a mess, the sheets are a mess.
He places the vibrator down, to flip you over on top of him. He places you on to his large, painfully restrained bulge. With his hands on your hips, he moves you up and down onto it.
He lets your hips go as you ride him on your own, but you’re so tired, you begin to move slower and close your eyes. He points the (empty) gun at you. “If you stop moving, I will shoot you.” Seeing you like this over him feels like a dream, he never imagined you’d be into this.
You keep going, trying your best not to plead for him to take over, but you’re so tired, you can’t help it. “Yuta..I’m..tired.”
“Such a whiny brat, it’s only going to get worse for you.” He grabs your waist to hold you up slightly while sliding further down the bed. He then forces you down onto his mask. He makes you move back and forth while it’s on his face.
“Ah..fuck!” You grip the head board for stability, but the bumps and ridges of the mask nearly drive you insane. You feel crazy doing this, but for some reason you continue. You feel good and hot. Yuta is commanding and you feel the urge to do as he says.
Just watching yourself right now, naked and riding a Halloween mask is turning you on more and more. What’s gotten into you? His hands still on your waist he chuckles when your whimpers become louder and louder until— your fingers go weak from gripping the headboard, your toes curl and your back arches as you release onto the mask. But he keeps you moving with his strong grip, even as you shake your head.
“Please sir..can’t move anymore.” You’re overstimulated and tears fall out of your eyes.
“My dick isn’t even inside you yet..keep working for it.”
He pulls his mask off finally to reveal his tempting smirk. “Come on, let me taste you.” His tongue takes a deep dive into your already soaked flower, making you shake uncontrollably and cry out his name.
He holds you still by spreading your buttcheeks with a tight grip and licking you all over.
“Yuta!”
He spanks your ass.
“I’m sorry sir, so so sorry, please I can’t take more.” You try to pull away but fail. He only laughs and teases your swollen clit with rapid movements from the powerful tip of his tongue.
“Oh my..fuck!” You climax again while he flattens his tongue.
He flips you over so he’s on top of you now and pulls his pants down while sticking the gun into your mouth. He palms himself. “Is that how you’d suck me off?”
You nod and sniffle as it goes deeper.
Yuta is so turned on by the sight of your wet eyes, full cheeks and ruined face he goes crazy.
He takes the gun out and runs it against your panties while making out with you finally. He takes your tongue over, forcing you to taste yourself as he moans.
He then pushes the gun into the fabric to tease your clit once again. You struggle to move away, you try to push his hand away, but he giggles and pushes the gun against you harder.
“You should be happy this isn’t a knife.”
He places the gun to the side and pulls your panties down while licking his lips. He kisses your scars and all the way down your belly before breathing against your opening. He teases it with his fingers while watching your face above him. “Ready for me, baby?”
You nod and he finally pushes his length into you causing you to curse in harmony at the feeling of being connected after all this time. Despite being tired, your body grips him, taking everything he has as he forces his entire length into you at once, making you move against the sheets on your bed.
You wince as he stretches you. “Slow..please..”
He shakes his head. “Too much for you already?”
You groan. Unable to talk as he goes in even deeper, your pussy betraying you by swallowing him in like it’s been begging for it for years.
He pulls out completely before rubbing the tip along your folds to gather more essence and dipping into you again.
You grab his hip with one and the sheets beside you with the other, reaching for anything that will get you through this and keep you sane.
“I said..is it too much?” He grunts, thrusting into you hard. You arch your back and cry out.
“Look at how desperate and pathetic you look right now, you can’t even speak straight can you? What happened to my smart talker? Got nothing to say while my dick is in you huh?”
His cocky talk, low tone and look only adds to your arousal.
He watches your breasts move in the pretty bra he bought you and you watch as his tongue darts across his lips. He loves to ruin you with every powerful thrust, and honestly, you love it too.
You cum hard, growing dizzy as you try to push him away.
He laughs at the way your weak hands press against him. “Come on sweetheart I’m not done with you yet, look at how tight you are, still need to make sure this pussy remembers me after tonight.”
He flips you over and takes you from behind, using your limp body to milk himself clean. Your velvet still grips him hard and it drives him crazy, the random clenches, the moans that vibrate through your body and onto him.
All you can focus on is the warmth of his skin against yours and the way his fingers grip your skin.
He leans over and whispers, you can feel his long hair delicately touch your neck. “Do you like it when I’m inside you, fucking you silly like this?”
“Yes…sir.” You let out embarrassingly. He squeezes his fingers into your cheeks as he grabs your chin.
“You don’t even remember your own name, do you, sweetheart?” He slams into you harder and grunts, your eyes shut and you let out a high pitched squeal.
“You’ll never think of anyone else but me when I’m done with you..when I’m done filling you up until you leak for days.”
You clench at his words causing him to laugh and push even harder.
“Who do you belong to, sweetheart?”
“Y-you..”
“Huh?” He slaps your ass hard. “I didn’t hear that.” He pulls your hair so your head goes back
You squeal. “You! Belong to you, sir.”
“Good..then I’m gonna fuck you..again *thrust* and again *thrust* and again *thrust* and again *thrust* and again *thrust and slap to your clit*“
You cum instantly while screaming into your bed. You shake and grab Yuta’s shoulder behind you. “Sir..fuck..oh god.”
He pulls out watching as your essence drips down your legs. He bends down to face your opening, licking it up slowly and using his fingers in combination to abuse your pussy and clit even more.
Placing his arm under you, he turns you over so you lay on the bed face up.
You watch him as he hovers over you, twirling the strings of your butterfly bra with his fingers. “Shall I unwrap my present?”
You bite your bottom lip and nod.
He smirks while pulling the strings slowly, carefully pulling it apart to reveal your breasts. The way he watches you through low eyes as his fingertips touch your sensitive skin ever so lightly makes you needy. You swallow hard.
“Fuck..so pretty..” he gazes at your naked chest, the sight being incomparable to anything he’s ever seen. He’s so hard, it’s unbearably painful. He leans down to lick each hard nipple while you run your hands through his hair.
He sucks them hard as his thumb runs your clit. He’s hypnotized by your chest, but it doesn’t distract him from his main goal of getting you to cum in his mouth again.
He lowers himself so he can lick your aching flower.
“Y-Yuta..” you pant as oversensitivity makes you so light headed you fear you might pass out at any moment. “Please sir..can’t —t-take.”
You grab his long hair.
“I decide when I’m done with you, got that? So stop begging, before I fuck you with my gun too.”
You hiccup at his threat and fall back into the bed.
After making you cum with his mouth again, your hold on his hair weakens. He holds onto the headboard and uses his other hand to guide his cock through your folds, coating it with your release to ease himself once more. You flinch and push yourself up on your elbows away from him.
He clicks his tongue, still sliding his tip in between. “Where you going, sweetheart? Didn’t you say this pussy is mine?”
You nod. “..but..I don’t think I can…” you can barely croak out.
Yuta makes a pouty face and kisses your lips to distract you from the fact that he’s burying himself into your sopping pussy once again.
“Yeah you can..be a good girl for me, I just wanna see you swollen with my babies..let me do that for you, sweetheart..that’s what you want right?” He whispers huskily against your lips and rubs his thumb along your cheek.
You nod and whimper.
“Good girl..” he leans back to watch himself enter you with ease. He places his hands into the crooks of your knees and pushes them down towards your chest, allowing him to see more of you.
“You’re so beautiful..I missed you.” He whispers as he takes long deep strokes into your body. “What’s my name, baby? Say it for me. Who is making you feel this good?”
“Yuta..yes, Yuta! Yuta, right there..oh my..” your breath hitches as you unravel and quiver again.
It doesn’t take long for him to empty himself deep inside you as your pussy clenches and milks him dry.
You cry out his name and dig your nails into his back.
“Ahhh…fuck ..that’s it..” he runs his thumb along your lips and he closes his eyes tightly. It feels amazing to be this deep inside you, finally filling you to the brim like he’s fantasized about since the night of your mission together. A part of him doesn’t want to stop, but when he opens his eyes after nearly 2 minutes of enjoying the feeling, he sees that you’ve passed out, your hands now at your sides as you rest.
He pulls out and watches a stream of cum leave your pussy. He could fuck it back into you, fuck you back awake but he decides to let you sleep.
He grabs a cloth and cleans you up before carefully taking your bra off completely so that you can rest comfortably. He lays down in bed while holding you in his arms. And after draping the blanket over your bodies, the two of you sleep quietly. It’s the first time in a while that he’s felt his heart yearn for someone.
The next morning, you wake up in Yuta’s arms and remember all that happened and that it wasn’t just an amazing dream. Your body is still sore and tired. You stare at his facial features as he sleeps quietly.
“I’m sorry..I’m so sorry..” you whisper as you place his hair behind his ears.
“I know..I forgive you.” He opens his eyes to trace over your lips.
You kiss him deeply, holding his face in your palms while falling into him. You pull away after a few seconds and rest your forehead against his.
“Why do you keep coming back?” You ask him.
He laughs and tries to think of a smart remark but fails. “The truth is…I don’t think I can ever live without you..” he smiles then kisses you again. “You’re the worst spy, but the best companion”
“So..what do you say?” He asks curiously. “I mean, someone has to take care of you..” He rubs your back slowly. It’s new, but nice to see him like this, completely captivated by you.
“Hmm I say..you need some mouthwash right about now.” You tease him before jumping out of the bed and running to the bathroom.
“Hey!” He runs after you.
You decide to date after, continuing to insult each other in your daily lives all while remembering that you’d sleep together at the end of it all. And eventually, you do get married and become a badass spy couple.
PAIRING | mean dom!mark x reader ft. hyuck (briefly)
SYNOPSIS | the kitchen isn't for cooking, didn't you know?
WC | 1.8k
WARNINGS | oral fem receiving, cocky!mark, jealous!mark, some golden hour inspired dialogue, kitchen sex (a bit)
A.N | i haven't posted anything in a while but after the concert (and the release of his song) i needed to write about him <3 send feedback, and enjoy
the kitchen counter digs into the skin of your back but you don't even notice. all your thoughts are directed to the lips suckling your clit. hands push at your legs, grabbing and pulling the soft flesh apart so he can taste more of you.
"m-mark, fuck. thats- that's good, just like that."
from on his knees, your boyfriend looks up at you, tongue still swirling around your clit. he hums something sweet and the vibrations send you into a frenzy.
clutching the back of his head, you thread your fingers in his long, black hair and tug him closer. he can't go anywhere so really you just end up rocking your hips into his jaw.
he doesn't mind because fuck, you taste so good. so fucking good, and it's all his - you're all his. no one else can have you. not even that boy haechan. the one who's always trying to hang out with you. the one that's currently on his way over to you and marks shared apartment.
the food you were cooking for the three of you is left on the stove, all but forgotten thanks to your boyfriend.
you didn't even have time to greet him when he opened the front door. he immediately made a beeline for you after dropping his bags on the kitchen table.
sweet lips attached themselves to your neck, dark bruises blooming in their wake. his hands were urgent, needy - desperately pulling at the large sweater covering your frame from his greedy eyes.
"let me taste you." he had asked, dropping to his knees and pressing his fingers to your panties.
you had dropped the spoon back into the pot of spaghetti sauce, "right here?"
his eyes never left yours, not even when he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to pull the lace down your thighs, "right here."
now you were all but clambering up on top of the marble countertops, trying to squirm away from your boyfriends prodding tongue.
"stop moving." he mumbles, fingers pressing bruises into your hips to keep you in place. "unless you want me to stop."
"n-no don't stop. mark, if you stop i swear to god i'll-"
he pinches the inside of your thigh which makes you yelp in surprise, "you'll what baby?"
sitting back on his heels, he moves his hand to replace his tongue and draws small, agonizing circles with him thumb over your folds - just barely brushing your clit.
"if i stop eating this pretty pussy, i'm just gonna bend you over and fuck you on the counter."
two fingers dip into you, and involuntarily you clench around them.
"you'd like that huh?"
the question has a deep blush rushing up your spine, and you nod your head slowly - too focused on the way his breath is slowly ghosting over the skin of your belly now that he's leaned forward.
his fingers continue to pump in and out of you, and all the sensations were leaving you with a euphoric head high.
"yeah i bet you would baby." sharp teeth nip at the skin below your navel. "but what about your little friend that's coming over?"
your fingers dig into the marble so hard you're afraid you'll break it. "who? h-hyuck?"
"yeah-" he spits, "hyuck."
his fingers move faster now, building the tension that was lingering in your belly. again, his tongue darts out to lick at your exposed clit - though unsatisfied with the angle, mark grabs one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder.
now you were supporting your weight with one leg on the ground and both your hands gripping the countertops. despite the fear of falling, the action has you whimpering for your boyfriend.
"what would he say if we fucked on the very table he's about to eat on?" you can't even focus on his words, too caught up in the sensation of being split open on his thick fingers.
his hair is matted on his forehead when you look down at him. "why would we -"
mark pulls back, "it can be our little secret baby. he doesn't have to know - or maybe he does."
"mark-" you whine, wanting his lips back between your legs.
"cum for me first and then we'll talk about it." rhythmically, his fingers drive into you. "or i'll talk - i don't know, your mouth might be full." a satisfied hum leaves his lips when your head tilts back in ecstasy, "my turn first though."
and then he's back to suckling on the sensitive bundle of nerves. tongue swirling and licking and lapping at the arousal that leaks onto his hand and down his wrist.
you were so wet for him - so fucking perfect. and he ate it up like a starved man.
soon enough the incessant lapping of marks tongue, and his taunting words - "this sweet pussy is all mine yeah?" "don't want me to stop? fucking cum on my fingers then." has your body locking and doing just what he wants you to.
you ride out your high by grinding against his face, and he took it all. he loved watching you enjoy yourself. it meant he was doing his job right.
"felt good?" he murmurs as he gets up off the wooden floor.
you nod dizzily and fall into his embrace once both your feet were on the floor. who knew he could make you this weak?
"aw baby, don't tell me your done yet! we're just getting started." he frowns, circling his arms around your waist and pulling you flush again his body. something pokes at your stomach.
" i think you got a bit of a problem." you point out.
he smirks, lips attaching themselves to yours, before pulling back, "a really big problem." your eyes lock, his still clouded with lust, "you can help me solve it if you bend over the counter like we talked about."
"but babyy" you drawl, "hyucks gonna be here any minute."
mark grits his teeth and pokes the inside of his cheek before fluidly spinning you around and pressing your hips into the counter opposite of the one you were up on earlier. the bulge in his pants presses against the swell of your ass and somehow you end up arching back into him.
"i really don't give a fuck about that guy." the growl rips from his throat so low you almost miss it. "and you shouldn't even be thinking about him." he sighs almost comically, "i guess i didn't eat this pretty pussy good enough."
his fingers dip between your legs again to swirl around your swollen, overly sensitive clit.
"yes- you did." you whimper, legs shaking.
"then why is another man in your head, hm?"
mark didn't show his jealous side much, but when he did, you knew the next day you weren't walking anywhere. just from the snip in his voice, you knew tomorrow was going to be one of those days.
the sound of fumbling can heard from behind you and soon enough the blunt head of marks 'problem' is pressing up between your folds.
'maybe i should fuck the thought of him away - you think that would fix it?"
one of his hands snakes up your spine and grabs the back of your neck. out of the corner of your eye, you watch his bicep flex when he pushes you down flat against the cool marble. your nipples are stiff peaks against the glossed rock and it makes you shiver.
mark knocks your knees apart and pushes his cock into you; slowly at first. he needed you to feel the stretch - feel how big he really was - feel how hard you made him.
pfft. and you were thinking about another man.
"you think he can make you feel like this?" helplessly, you let mark rock his hips into you. erratic moans pour from your parted lips, "oh i know baby, i know it feels good. just take it okay? i know you can pretty girl. take it just like you did when i was devouring this pretty pussy." the lewd words dripping off his lips like honey leaves you spasming around him and scrambling on your tip toes. "ah, you liked that huh?" you go to shake your head but he tsks at you, "don't deny it now baby, your body gave you away."
"mark, f-faster please. i need you to go -"
"faster, i know baby. i'll fuck you real good in just a second. wanna get adjusted first."
from over his shoulder mark takes note of the time.
seven twenty eight.
"say, what time was your little friend supposed to show up?"
you can barely register his words, but through a dreamy, cloudy voice, you whimper out, "seven thirty."
like a string of fate, a knock sounds at the door. both you and mark jolt and look towards the white wood.
"punctual. of course he's punctual." mark seethes. "what do you say we give him a show? let him see just how much you truly care about him when i'm the one fucking you."
the idea is appealing, so appealing in fact that your body betrays you again. a gush of arousal floods around marks cock, making his shallow thrusts slippery.
"why are you being so-"
"because he can't have you. and i can't have him thinking he can."
another knock sounds and your phone laying just out of arms reach lights up with a text message from haechan.
"and you know what baby?" the question is saturated with a cockiness you've never heard from mark before.
you whimper, his hand snaking between your legs and flicking your puffy clit. "what?"
"i didn't lock the door." you gasp when he pinches the bundle of nerves, "so i think i'll just invite our little guest in, yeah?"
"yeah?" you breathe, dazed and fucked out and pliant.
"yeah." he solidifies it and reaches for the hem of his shirt. ripping it over his head, he flexes his biceps - some form of male competition forcing him to show off his girl and his muscles.
"okay baby, get ready to put on a show."
you nod, choosing to focus on the driving force between your legs instead of his words that ring out into the apartment air.
"It's unlocked! you can come in!"
tentatively, the handle turns and pushes open. a young man mark can only assume is haechan steps through the threshold. his doe eyes go wide when he takes in the scene before him.
"nice to meet you. i'm mark, the boyfriend. dinner might need to be postponed a bit."
a/n | did you like it? if you did, consider leaving me a like, a reblog, a review, or some feedback in my askbox :)
SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is part two of a series! read part one for context!
PAIRING | best friend!haechan x reader
SYNOPSIS | lee donghyuck had the largest ego you’d ever seen for someone who stayed cramped in their dorm room all night playing video games; but when you stay in with him the night after a raging party, you find yourself realizing that ego just might be deserved.
WC | 10.8k
WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol & weed, sexual comments, hyuck shirtless and covered in paint, party games, comments abt virginity, switch!hyuck (slight sub, lean dom), sexual content (nothing too crazy).
A.N | i know you guys have been waiting for this, so i hope it lives up to the hype :) and if it doesn't - sorry
“Haechan, I need you to fuck me.”
Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror, tired eyes ringed with heavy circles and glinting in judgement.
This was fucking ridiculous.
No matter how many times you sat in front of the mirror and practiced, you couldn’t get the words out with a straight face. Even the wet dreams that plagued your sleeping hours weren’t enough to prepare you. After all, you still couldn’t believe what you were going to ask Haechan to do. Or participate in, rather.
It wasn’t that you were scared, or that you didn’t want it, because trust and believe your mind and body both craved him; it was just stressful. Asking your bestfriend to give you some dick and then go on and mind his business like nothing happened?
Unfathomable.
But it was Haechan, and something in your brain told you he’d jump at the chance to fuck you; at least you were hoping so. How could you not think that when he said things like –
“If I open the door, am I gonna see boobs?”
Case in point.
You yell back, a blush of embarrassment heating your face while you fumble around to act like you were putting on makeup and not practicing asking him for sex, “No you pervert!”
The door swings wide open and the boy in question steps into the tiny room, “That’s a damn shame.”
God Damn.
Ever since that alcohol induced dream, your body had taken the liberty of reacting every time you caught sight of Haechan. It didn’t matter if he was drunk with pasta sauce smeared all over his face after he smashed a bowl of ravioli (true story), or if he was all done up for a class presentation on the history of the toaster oven (out of all things); your body reacted the same either way.
It went further than just sight though. If you so much as smelled someone wearing similar cologne to what he normally wore, arousal bells started ringing and you had to sprint home to relieve the ache between your legs.
This time wasn’t any different.
Fluffy, dark brown hair is what you see first, gelled stylishly in effortless waves around his head, save for the small curls on the nape of his neck. When you move your gaze lower, you lock eyes with his, and a spark of curiosity blooms. Then it’s his perfect pink lips set in a cute pout, and rounded jaw that you often stared at when he ate because it made you think of how good he’d be at eating you out. The thoughts start to creep into your mind, and you have no choice but to shake them out and replace them with something else, which so happened to be his outfit…or lack thereof.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, revealing a cute tummy with faint lines and deeply toned biceps. You’d punched him in the stomach once before, and you didn’t need to see abs to know that that man was rock solid. Multicolored neon body paint decorated his torso and back, tiny splatters here and there, but the star of the show is a lime green handprint wrapped around his throat (Jaemins probably). His black sweats also had paint on them, but his combat boots didn’t have a drop of color. If he expected to get out of the frat with them looking spotless, he had another thing coming.
“You do know the theme is neon?” His voice jolts you back into reality, and the blush that was gone finds its way back to your throat and cheeks. You were literally sitting in front of the mirror with a neon pink bralette on, why was he asking you this? Slightly, you nod. “Then why are you staring at me? I know I’m not ripped like Jen or Jaem, but come on, I can rock the dad bod!”
“Haechan. Take this with a grain of salt, but you have a decent body.”
Automatically, the compliment goes to his head, “Wanna see all of it sometime?”
Yes, please.
“No.”
A cheeky smile forms on his lips, “Thought so…”
“I’m actually surprised you’re going. Don’t you have a video game competition or something?” You stand up from your spot in front of the vanity and grab your leather jacket that was laying on the rack beside it.
“I can’t pass up free liquor. You know this.”
For some reason, your outfit seems like its missing something, and desperately your eyes are searching for it… ah! A necklace. You couldn’t go in a frat without some form of jewelry. Unable to reach behind yourself and clasp it, you hold it out to Haechan who doesn’t hesitate to grab it and push your shoulder, so your back was to him. “So, the plan is to get hammered?”
Tender fingers brush aside your hair, a spark igniting in the pit of your stomach. You feel almost giddy at his touch, and you’re not sure you entirely hate it. You anticipate more, and he doesn’t disappoint. His hands reach around your throat, the heavy pendant resting at the base of your throat while his fingers work at the nape of your neck to clasp it.
“The plan is to get absolutely drunk, find a bad bitch and fuck her till the entire house knows my name.” His voice is low, dropping right next to your ear, and the air blowing from his lips makes your shiver into his touch at your neck.
“S-Sounds like a good plan.” you whisper.
What was this boy doing to you?
“Wanna help?”
“H-Help? Help with what? Help you?”
He backs away, hands held out in front of him and a smile cracking his features, “Yeah. Wanna help me find a frat bunny?”
I’m right here.
“Oh, uh, sure.”
“Perfect.” He starts to head out before turning back to you, “You didn’t think I was gonna ask if I could fuck you… did you?”
Your response comes out suspiciously fast, but Haechan had pregamed before stopping at your dorm, and he definitely didn’t catch it, “No! I would never! You’re like… really fucking gross. Sorry Hyuck.”
“Ahhh, theres the Y/N I know!” he claps you on the shoulder, “By the way, Jeno and Jaem are waiting in the car downstairs so hurry up.”
With that, he’s gone, the slamming of the front door resonating deep in the pit of your stomach, your nerves buzzing, and every muscle tense.
This was going to be a long night.
People were already throwing up in the bushes by the time you and the boys arrived, but you’d rather wade through puke than sit in Jeno’s car a second longer.
The entire ride to the frat house was a mess. From being squished between Jaemin and Hyuck, thanks to Jeno reserving the front seat for his precious bottles of Smirnoff and Hennessy (Seriously, he wouldn’t move them. He even buckled them up in case he crashed the car. As if the bottles wouldn’t break.) to having one of said bottles passed around the backseat and promptly spilled all over your upper body; you couldn’t take it anymore.
Unfortunately, the situation was made worse by Haechan's actions. As the cold alcohol spilled all over you, his hands peppered over your body, gliding through the sticky liquid that was rapidly drying. When he touched the lace of your bralette, his fingers inadvertently brushed against your nipple, reigniting the warmth in your stomach.
You really hoped he hadn’t noticed.
Jaemin, on the other hand, kept shoving his arm around to try and garner your attention towards his phone, which had pictures of sorority girls pulled up.
“Which ones should I take back to my place tonight?” He kept asking you, again and again and again until you and his minty breath were quite acquainted.
Needless to say, you wanted out.
So, when the car came to a screeching halt along the sidewalk, you were all but climbing over Jaemins lap to get the door open.
“You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have you all over me, but this isn’t what I meant.” The flirtatious jokes from Jaemin were already starting, but he wasn’t the target tonight, Haechan was.
“Sorry, Haechan’s body odor was starting to get to me.” You send a warm smile to the boy clambering out of Jeno small coupe behind you.
“I literally haven’t even started being mean to you yet, why are you throwing insults?” Haechan stands tall, the heels of his combat boots making him tower over you, “And I’m wearing old spice anyway, this shit lasts ages. You must have been smelling Jaemins dick… I heard it’s quite overused.”
The pink haired boy whips around, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his sweatpants, “Why are you mad I get more pussy than you?”
Jeno thrusts a bottle of alcohol into you and Haechans hands, leaving Jaemin empty handed, who looks at you with a pout. You uncap your bottle, a dark thing of Hennessy, and pass it to him.
Haechan snorts, “Not mad, just annoyed that you keep me up all night with your grunting.”
Jaemin passes the bottle back to you and gives you a wink, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, the four of you start walking through the grass and up the steps to the frat house.
The front lawn was littered with red, plastic solo cups, ping pong balls, and empty beer cans. Toilet paper hung around a poorly spray-painted piece of cardboard that read, ‘welcome to the jungle’. College students hung around the porch smoking cigarettes and weed, and somehow a joint ends up between your fingers before you’ve even reached the front door.
“Wanna shotgun that?” Haechan smirks, wiggling his eyebrows when you shove the loosely wrapped blunt between your lips.
Inhaling takes a minute, the burning sensation of the weed filling your lungs and immediately reaching your bloodstream. You blow the smoke directly in Haechans face as a way of declining his offer, though pressing your lips against his and sharing a smoky kiss sounded real good right then.
He waves a hand in front of his face, “Fine. I see how it is.”
Whoever handed you the blunt plucks it out from between your fingers before you can pass it to Haechan and disappears around the side of the house.
“Well, that was mean.” Jaemin sighs defeatedly.
“I’m pretty sure Renjun is inside selling if you want to buy something off of him.” Jeno shouts over his shoulder.
“Fair warning though, he doesn’t roll well.” You spit tiny green pieces of marijuana onto the front walkway and cringe at the taste. There was a reason you didn’t like edibles.
Jeno just nods to the freshman pledge assigned to door duty (a scrawny boy who went by the name of Shotaro) and shoulders the front door of the house. Immediate booming bass finds your chest and rattles through you, the smell of spilled alcohol and cheap drugs clouding the house in a thick smog. Black lights hang from the ceiling, the people loitering near the entranceway glowing brightly in neon oranges, blues, green, yellows, and pinks.
You vaguely notice a few of the brothers roaming around passing out beers to the partygoers, but one in particular notices the four of you crowding the entrance and discards his last beer to a random girl at his side before jogging over.
“Jae!” Jeno and the brother lock hands and embrace, slapping each other’s backs in a way that looked painful.
The only reason you had gotten into the frat parties all year long was because of Jaehyuns and Jeno’s relationship – they were on the hockey team together, and brothers.
Jung Jaehyun was a senior, the head of the most popular frat on campus, NEO, and Jeno’s half-brother. You’d never really interacted with him, but from what you heard, he was a nice guy with an even nicer girlfriend, and they were head over heels in love with each other. You didn’t see her around anywhere, not that you would know what she looked like.
“Looking for someone?” Haechans voice, gravelly and low, finds your ear and makes you shiver despite how hot it was in the house. You hated the way he made your body feel, but not as much as you should have.
“You’re about to be looking out of one eye if you don’t back the fuck up.” Hostility was not your strong suit, but Haechan just drug something out of you.
“Jesus Christ, you need to drink. You’re so much better drunk. A lot nicer.” He smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and you can physically feel your heart beginning to melt.
A little voice in the back of your head is telling you to say, and you’re so much better when you shut up, how about you put that mouth to use between my legs?
But you refrain.
It’s very hard to refrain.
You almost slip.
That is, until you realize Jaehyun has since walked away and left the four of you to party how you please.
“Okay. I’ll be staying sober. Well, as sober as a good couple blunts make me. Please try to stay in the house, it makes it so much easier when it’s time to go and I have to round you jack offs up.” Jeno smirks, handing his bottle of alcohol to Jaemin who gladly takes it.
You’re surprised he hasn’t already gone looking for someone to fuck, it was well known that him and Jaehyun didn’t particularly get along. Something about Jaemin fucking Jaehyuns ex… you didn’t know the full story.
Jeno grabs Haechans bare shoulders, “Please, for the love of God, do not jump in the pool again. Last time you almost drowned and I don’t feel like planning a funeral for your sorry ass.”
“I make no such promises, but I will try my best.” The younger boy beams.
“Alright, go have fun, and try not to catch a STD. I’ll be over with Renjun if you need me.” And with that, your friend Jeno breaks from the group, his neon painted bare back shining brightly amongst the crowd right before he fades in.
Jaemin breaks off almost immediately after chugging the bottle of alcohol Jeno had given him.
Haechan, who wasn’t one for parties and usually stayed holed up in his dorm room playing video games all night, sways by your side awkwardly.
“Aren’t you gonna go find a frat bunny to fuck?” You shout over the blaring music.
He looks almost nervous when he shifts his gaze to you, “I don’t really see anyone of interest… except you of course. Wanna go fuck in the bathroom?” A shit eating grin blinds you right before he lifts the Smirnoff bottle and takes a swig, finishing it with a grimace.
Wouldn’t it be nice to say yes and get his part of the challenge over? Fuck, how you wanted to grab his hand and drag him to the nearest bathroom, but frat parties weren’t the place to hook up, and you wanted to take your time with him anyway.
“I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
“You’re telling me you don’t wanna hit this?” He rubs his free hand across his chest and stomach, dipping it so far as to drag down a bit of his sweatpants. A strong V-Line peeks out and you almost choke on air, eyes bugging out of your skull.
“Keep your fucking clothes on Hyuck.” You sputter.
He cocks an eyebrow and reaches out for your hand, which you hesitate to take. What was he doing? Was he trying to bring you into the nearest bathroom?
All he does is tug you towards the main room, an open area full of students dancing, drinking, and smoking, “Interesting… Come on, let’s party.”
The feeling of his calloused fingers enlaced with yours was enough to send your mind spiraling deep into the thoughts that plagued your dreams – like what it would feel like to have them wrapped around your neck, or shoved between your thighs, maybe even down your throat.
Mentally, you tell your brain to shut up (it always did get slutty in these environments).
“Y/N!!” A girly voice shouts off to your left, dragging both you and Haechans attention. Lisa, a girl in the same major as you, who you’ve known for a couple years now, is barreling toward you and the boy you’re linked hand in hand with. She shoves a few partygoers to the side, an opened beer can in her hand which she’s cautious enough not to spill.
When she finally makes it to your side, her eyes dip down and make note of your hands crushed together, a freshly waxed eyebrow popping up in question at you. Immediately you yank your hand away from Haechan, who glares in protest but doesn’t say anything.
“I didn’t think I would see you here!” She’s beaming head to toe and slings a paint splattered arm around your shoulders.
You smile back, “Jeno made me come.” She’d had a crush on Jeno for ages, and from the look on her face at the mention of his name, it still existed.
“Oh, he’s here? I didn’t even know!! I need to go find him asap.”
“Well yeah, it’s his brothers party and all…” Haechan pipes up from beside of you, nervously biting at his nails. He always chewed his cuticles unrecognizable.
She looks up at him with a weird expression before extracting her arm and turning to face you, her back to Haechan, who sneers and throws up a middle finger in her direction. It makes you chuckle, but thankfully she doesn’t question it.
“Well, a bunch of us are playing games upstairs if you wanna join.”
You start to say no, but you can tell in her eyes that she wasn’t going to take that as an answer, so you nod your head, “Sure.”
A squeal so loud heads turn, erupts from her mouth, “Good!!! Ima go find Jeno and then head up there. I’ll see you soon.” And with a kiss to your cheek, she’s gone.
“Well, guess we’re playing games.” Haechan huffs, reaching for your hand now that she was gone, “I hope it’s spin the bottle so I can kiss you.”
Me too.
Rolling your eyes, you start towards the stairs, “Haechan?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Haechan didn’t shut up.
In fact, he kept his mouth running all the way up the stairs, through the bodies loitering in the hallway, around a puddle of puke, and into the makeshift living room Lisa must have set up.
Not like you were paying much attention to what he said anyways. Instead, your mind chose to focus on the way his back looked in the dim lighting of the frat house. Underneath a layer of pretty tan skin, the boy was all muscle, stretching and tensing when his lithe legs carried him up the inclined stairs. And when he turned around to make sure you were still following him, despite his hand being attached to yours, you notice the muscles carried all the way around to his abdomen and torso.
Because the house was hot and humid, the paint splattered on his chest was fading and streaking. The neon paint dripped down his body, with some even dribbling into the waistband of his sweatpants. The idea of the paint staining his v-line creates a sensation of warmth in your stomach.
You wanted to see him naked so bad and it made you mad.
What happened to the boy who stayed in his room every day and barely touched vegetables? What happened to him being a friend and just that? Had one night of drinking skewed your common sense? Or was this just a side effect of the challenge you were doing?
Whatever, he’s fucking hot and he has a big dick, you argue with yourself, images of what you saw on his phone flashing through your mind.
Haechan getting his dick sucked by some random girl, forcing her to deepthroat and then whimpering.
The thought alone almost makes you steer him into the nearest bathroom, but the makeshift living room comes too soon.
“I literally can’t get rid of you.” Jaemin perks up from his spot on the floor, bottle of liquor tucked away in his lap.
“Talk to Lisa.” You shoot back flatly.
As you glance around the room, you realize that the only person you recognize is Jaemin. While a few faces seem familiar, you can't recall their names or where you may have seen them before.
Hyuck guides you over to the circle where everyone is seated and takes a spot, leaving you to settle in opposite him. "Looks like it's just you and me," he says with a grin, displaying his gleaming white teeth. You can't help but wonder how they would feel against your inner thighs, and you unconsciously clench them together while crossing your arms.
You didn’t know how long Lisa and Jeno were going to be, or if she was still downstairs recruiting more players, but you’re lucky not to be left alone with your thoughts too long, because a couple minutes later, she, Jeno and Jaehyun (surprisingly) filter into the room, one after the other.
Haechan’s eyes cut to you, and he smirks, eyebrows wiggling in a stupidly suggestive way.
“Okay! Seems like we got enough players.” Lisa pipes up, taking the spot next to you that sat empty (thankfully no one had sat and tried to make acquaintance. you were too sober for that). Jeno sits off to your right, and Jaehyun takes the spot next to Haechan.
Jaemin leans in towards the circle, appearing invested as he asks, "What game are we playing?" His gaze travels up and down Lisa's body, and he licks his lips. You roll your eyes; of course, she was the one he was after tonight. Too bad her eyes were on Jeno.
She gives a short giggle before replying, “How about seven minutes in heaven?”
A low murmur ripples through the circle but affirming head nods set the game in motion.
Honestly, you find the game awkward and childish, something played in your early high school years, but maybe the universe and luck would be on your side tonight.
Wasn’t the whole point of tonight to get into Haechans pants? This silly little game was the perfect opportunity.
He seemed to be on the same wavelength because one glance and you see him making kissy faces directed at you.
Why the fuck was he so weird?
And why did you want to crawl across the circle and kiss him?
“Great, can we use that bottle Jaemin?” Lisa asks, and he’s quick to shove it in the middle. He must really want her to come home with him tonight if he’s giving up his alcohol that easily – or the bottle at least.
Lisa takes a finger and spins the bottle, the handle flying around so fast it looked like a blur. You hold your breath, silently praying it doesn’t land on you. You could probably hear a pen drop in the room (plus the thumping bass coming up through the floorboards).
It comes to a standstill, pointing at a random girl you’ve never seen before. She looks nervous, but that was to be expected, right?
Lisa spins the bottle again and you thank your lucky stars when it lands on another girl in the circle.
Two girls down, about 12 of you left.
The next few rounds follow a similar pattern, with two unfamiliar people being chosen and then awkwardly leaving the circle. At some point Jaemin and a blonde headed bimbo filter off to surely fuck.
The game starts to feel pointless, but then the bottle lands on you.
Haechan immediately perks up from being previously slumped against a pillow. The bottle of Smirnoff by his side was slowly draining, and you could tell he was feeling it a bit. A rosy blush spread itself on his cheeks and his eyes shined bright. An eager look crosses his face when Lisa tips the bottle into spinning.
Whoever it landed on was going to be shoved in a tiny closet with you for the next seven minutes. Time ticked slow, your eyes following it’s every move.
Spinning.
And spinning.
And spinning.
And stop.
“No fucking way.” Haechan pouts.
Your eyebrows raise, a short, disbelieving laugh rushing past your lips. The bottle has landed between Jaehyun and Haechan, more towards the latter, but nearly dead set between.
“Well, who is it then?” Haechan urges, pushing himself up on his knees, “Cause it’s more towards me, so I think it’s only fair…”
“Maybe by a single degree.” Jaehyun argues, locking his eyes with yours and giving a lopsided smile.
It strikes you as odd that Jaehyun, who you're pretty sure has a girlfriend (Jeno had mentioned her once or twice), is even participating in the game. Despite this, he seems to be making eyes at you, smiling with deep dimples and winking. You just stare back at him, causing the tips of his ears to flush red. You weren’t going to be the cause of a scandal if he was, in fact, still dating that girl.
So the dilemma (that wasn’t really a dilemma) dawns on you. Your best friend or the boy who (maybe) had a girlfriend? You contemplate storming out of the room and forfeiting the game – but what was the fun in that? And anyways, Haechan looked like he was getting antsy.
“Come on Hyuck.” you grumble, pushing yourself up off the dusty floor and slipping out into the semi-crowded hallway. The boy eagerly follows on your heel until you’re shouldering a random door and slipping into a dark room.
It feels much bigger than the closet you were envisioning, though where was the fucking light? Both of you search the walls to no avail. Faintly, you see the outline of a bed and walk over to it, dropping down on the sunken mattress – Haechan following your lead.
“What a coincidence that it’s you and me. I mean, I knew you wanted to fuck me, but seriously, how did you rig a spin the bottle game?”
In this moment you’re glad for the darkness enveloping the room – then he wouldn’t see the shock and embarrassment flooding your face.
Defensively, you shove his chest, “Shut up. I didn’t rig the game.”
The smirk is almost evident in his tone, “Oh, but you do wanna fuck me?”
“No – Haechan I wanted to play a game. Of course fate would give me your ass.”
“Maybe fate wants us to hook up.” he murmurs.
I’d agree with fate then, you think.
A million thoughts flood your mind in a millisecond. How convenient it was that you were stuck in an empty room, with a bed, with Hyuck – with a shirtless Hyuck. The dim lighting outlines the contours of his chest, and you can feel yourself clenching your thighs together for what felt like the umpteenth time.
“Would you like that?” You whisper, slightly leaning closer to him. He wasn’t that far away. Maybe a foot at most.
“Is the sky blue?” He retorts, ever so slightly leaning into you too.
You roll your eyes, “Is that a trick question – because it’s nighttime right now and the sky is black.”
“I don’t know, maybe you should kiss me and find out.”
His voice is lower than normal, which surprises you. But not as much as the statement. You knew he was like this – forward and flirty. Though it’s different when you actually want to reciprocate.
Time slows down and the electricity of the moment surrounds you two. His lips are inching towards your own, long, slender fingers grabbing your thighs.
Fuck, it’s happening – Everything you’ve been dreaming about for weeks on end. How did this happen so fast?
You can smell the alcohol on his breath – wondering if he’ll taste sweet like brandy.
“Hyuck…” you whisper, “ I-“
Light and sound flood the room, startling the fuck outta you and making you jump three feet back into the headboard.
“Oh shit –” the partygoer curses.
The girl on his arm giggles, “’m sorry. Didn’t mean to barge in on you two!” They slam the door, and the muffled sounds of the party bring you back to the present.
Yellow spots cloud your vision as you fumble to stand up, almost tripping over what you can assume to be a backpack.
You swallow thickly, “Let’s go back downstairs.”
“I’ll meet you down there.” Haechan whispers, one hand running through his hair, “You go on ahead.”
Without another word, you slip into the hallway and slink down the stairs – into the hands of hundreds of drunk college kids. You see Jaemin taking shots and Jeno smoking it up with Renjun.
What the fuck just happened.
And why did I ruin it.
After a good twenty minutes away from each other, you realize he was the only person who you cared to hang out with. So, you found him utterly intoxicated on the kitchen floor and forced him to dance with you.
Well really you just forced him off the kitchen floor which he really didn’t want to leave, but once he was up and moving, he took you by hand and made the night worthwhile.
Now two hours later, with most of the alcohol Jeno had supplied gone, all you can think about is sucking Haechans dick.
It’s because of the way he danced (and smelled, and looked, and…). His hands reach out and greedily grab at your waist, fingers twisting through the empty belt loops of your jeans. A bit of the paint he had on was smudged against you, thanks to him pulling you into a bear hug earlier in the night.
He was drunk, and it made him extra touchy. Though you didn’t mind, in fact, you welcomed it now that your resolve was slipping. So, when he pushes you against the wall, one hand held high over your head, his other circling your jaw, it’s no surprise that your heartbeat goes wild. A blush rises hot on your face; his eyes finding yours and piquing with dull amusement.
“I gotta tell you a secret-” he slurs, swaying in your arms. He thinks for a minute before putting a hand over his mouth, “Wait, I can’t tell you.” When you don’t respond, instead, electing to stare at him in amusement, his lips jut out into a pout, “Why don’t you like me?”
One of your hands pushes against his slick with sweat chest, “I do like you?” Your breathing becomes labored when his lips pull back in a sloppy grin.
“You like me? You like me!!” Haechan teeters a bit to the left, almost falling into another couple that were vigorously making out, “They need to get a room… we need to get a room.”
We had a room.
“We need to get a room?” You question, eyes widening when he leans in so close he’s only an inch away from kissing you.
“Can I kiss you?”
It feels like the room comes to a crescendo, every sound clashing yet becoming silent at the same time. All you can think about is his mouth and how pretty and pink his lips are. How it would be heaven to meld into the strong grasp of your best friend. How the constant nights of intimate dreams of him weren’t enough to satisfy you. How you should have taken him up on his offer in that damn room.
How you wanted to go to that damn bathroom now.
But this was wrong.
The wrong time, wrong place, wrong everything.
You were drunk, he was more than drunk, and surely that would affect whether you thought he fucked the best.
From around his shoulder, you spot Jeno staring at you with a beer in his hand – so much for staying sober. He’s smirking, slightly chuckling, and cocking his eyebrows at you as if asking, ‘you gonna kiss him?’
“Haechan.”
The boy has gone from being semi coherent to humming some sort of song that wasn’t even close to the one that was playing.
“Haechan!” you shake his shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of the stupor, and suddenly he stands up tall.
“Y/N, I missed you!!! What are you doing here?” It was like he was seeing you for the first time.
He was too drunk to function. You should have expected as much, but you’re still slightly disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to go forth with your plan.
You sigh and grab his arm, the disappointment nearly sobering you up, “Let’s go find Jeno and get you home, okay?”
His eyes go frantic, “We can’t forget Jaemin! We have to find Jaemin!!!”
“Don’t worry Hyuck, I’d leave you here sooner than I would him.”
Maybe then I wouldn’t have the urge to ride you on the frats sofa.
“Meanie.”
Steaming bags of takeout hang off your arm as you fumble to push your way through the unusually small dorm door.
“Hyuck! Jaemin!” you yell, hoping one of them would dart out of their room and help you with the load of cheap food you were threatening to drop on the ground. You shouldn’t be surprised when all is silent except for the smash of controller buttons and Haechans frustrated screech.
You wade through the mess that nearly makes you gag – piles of clothes, dirty socks and mud caked shoes. Books and pages of lecture notes litter the ground accompanied with crushed RedBull cans – evidence that Haechan did indeed leave his room at some point.
“Yo, you really need to clean this shit up.” you pantomime throwing up and toss the bags of takeout on Haechans dark blue bedspread that was actually made for once.
His back is to you, eyes trained on the video game he was playing, giving you a half-hearted grunt to acknowledge what you said. The too-big headset threatens to engulf his head, nearly sliding off as he jolts forward in the gaming chair.
“Fuck! Fuck! No… no… don’t… SHIT!” Exasperation floods his tone once the screen turns completely red and his character returns to the main lobby. “You guys suck ass.”
Without hearing their response, he shuts off his monitor and spins around to face you, who was patiently waiting on his bed, “Sorry. I woulda got the door for ya, but…” he gestures behind himself.
“It’s fine.” you mumble.
His eyes travel from your face and to the short ass skirt that was slung over your hips. Immediately your face heats up. Why was this awkward? Does he even remember what happened last night? How you almost kissed in some random frat bros room? Or how he had you pressed up against the wall, asking to kiss you. Does he remember the drive home? How he laid in your lap, drunkenly massaging your thighs? Surely he had to remember you tucking him into bed with the promise of takeout tomorrow night?
But when you look him in the eyes, you just see your friend eager to eat – not someone who you nearly fucked last night.
You clear your throat, “Um, where’s Jaemin?”
Haechan shrugs and starts sifting through the boxes of rice and pork cutlets, “He left early this morning. Said he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Bet that means he’s going to get some pussy.” He takes a bite of rice and speaks through the mouthful, “Twenty four hours though? That’s a long ass time for him.”
You snort and take the box of rice he was gesturing towards you, “Nah, that’s light work for Jaem. As long as he lets us know he’s alive, I think a sex bender might be best for him.”
“You know, he’s still mad that you wouldn’t let him leave with that girl last night.” Haechans laugh rings through the room, making you smile. He had such a pretty voice.
“He was drunker than the both of us combined.” You tear the end of a soy sauce packet and dump it into the container in your lap. “Speaking of, what do you remember from last night? Did you, like, totally black out?”
“Not much, just that you were coming over today.” He says through another mouthful of food.
Great, so he didn’t remember anything. How convenient for you.
“Well… you ended up peeing on this guy when we were leaving because you missed the bush.”
“I missed the bush?”
“The whole bush.”
“Oh my god.”
“I know.”
The food was long gone, with empty containers flooding his trashcan that begged to be taken out.
You were bored.
Here you were, laying on his bed with a lowcut shirt and a fucking miniskirt, and he was back to playing his game.
For the past hour you tried to get him to join you, but to no avail. Who knew that your first target would be the hardest to fuck? How can you accurately judge how good he fucked if he wouldn’t even lay on the bed with you?
One last chance or you were leaving.
This was an all or nothing moment.
“I’m horny.” It was a declaration. A statement so bold, he turns ever-so-slightly towards you and raises an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
You scoff, “You heard me. I need to fuck someone or something.”
The squeak of his chair rings through the uncomfortably silent room as he adjusts himself. What was he thinking? Was he disgusted? Flustered? Did he feel the same?
“Well now that you mention it…” he swallows thickly. Was it hot in his room? Could you feel it too?
You push yourself up into a sitting position, “Come help me.” His dark brown eyes flutter, the tops of his cheeks dusting a light pink color, but he stays silent. "No smart reply? No sexual comments? Did I really fluster the Lee Haechan?"
He gets up from his gaming chair, almost toppling over in the process and spilling the can of Redbull he was clutching onto for dear life. "I am not flustered. " The mattress dips under his weight as he gets comfortable next to you, his gaze falling to the lowcut shirt you wore, "Can’t I touch them if you’re serious?”
His bottom lip juts out in a pout, obviously joking around (your boobs always seemed to be the butt of his sexual comments), but even still, you find yourself removing your shirt before you can think.
The look on his face is priceless, wide eyes almost bugging out of his skull, “I was kidding! Jesus Christ Y/N, put your shirt back on!” his voice has somehow pitched up two octaves, obviously taken aback, but for some reason his eyes remain open and transfixed. It looks as if he’s almost salivating, especially when he watches your nipples perk up from how cool he kept his room.
Reaching out a hand, you clasp his wrist and bring it closer to your body, “But I’m serious.” The bewildered expression never left his face, even when you had him cup his palm around your breast, and then when he took matters into his own hands and gave you a fair squeeze, which made you giggle.
“Am I dreaming? This must be a dream?”
You hop up on your knees, making your tits bounce in the process which drops Haechan’s jaw, “Not a dream, very much reality.”
Slowly and sexily, you crawl towards his seated position beside you, “I want you Haechan.” You breathe the words out slowly, giving him time to comprehend what the fuck his best friend just said.
Confusion flits across his face and he hesitates, “But Y/N…”
“But what? I want you. I want you to fuck me.” His pupils blew wide at the confession.
“Y/N… I can’t.”
Disappointment fills your heart and deflates your ego in a millisecond. You should have known. How could you be so stupid? Of course, he didn’t want to fuck you. You were best friends for fucks sake. It would ruin everything. Why did you even try? Because you were drunk and horny the night the challenge was first brought up? Pathetic, really.
Haechan must have seen the worry and doubt fill your eyes because all of a sudden, he’s grabbing your shoulders, “No, It’s… It’s not because I don’t want to,” His eyes wash over your half naked body, and he licks his lips, “Trust me, I want to…but I’m…I’m.”
Leaning in ever so slightly you whisper, “You’re what? Scared?”
It was a taunt, a tease, a challenge, and he knew it, but he just shakes his head, “Y/N… I’m a virgin.”
Now it was your turn to be shocked, completely taken aback by this new revelation, “You’re a… virgin?”
Pink tints his cheeks and collarbones peeking through his oversized t-shirt, and he hangs his head to avoid eye contact, “Yeah, I’ve never had… never had sex.”
“But you always say –”
“I talk a big game, okay?” The reply rushes from his lips, embarrassment kicking him in the ass, “Yeah I’ve gotten head before, and I’ve eaten a few girls out, but I’ve never had actual sex. It’s… just never happened I guess.”
Here you were, trying to seduce not only your best friend, but your best friend that has just told you he was a virgin. You were trying to steal a virgins innocence. How fucked could you really be?
To be fair, he always acted like he got hella pussy, you argue with yourself.
“Jaemin knows.” He mutters, as if it was of any relevance to the situation.
“Well,” You start, sitting back on your heels, “Here I am shirtless, asking you to fuck me…” His eyes flicker up and lock with yours, “What are you gonna do about it?”
Another challenge.
He did well with challenges, and this time was no different.
You continue, “Unless you believe the ‘only have sex after marriage’ bullshit –”
“Absolutely not.”
Greedy eyes search for an answer on his face, but there’s nothing, only a permanent blush and frantic furrow brows, “Okay, then do you wanna go back to gaming?”
“…No.”
He still isn’t advancing, just sitting with his hands dropped into his lap and looking at you with his wide doe eyes, “Then what?”
You sit there, watching as Haechan fidgets with his hands, clearly nervous about what comes next. The sexual tension that hangs between you two feels like a thick fog. You want him, and you can tell that he wants you too, but the knowledge that he’s a virgin puts a damper on things.
You don't want to be the one to take his virginity. That's a big fucking responsibility, and it's not something that you take lightly. You start to wonder if maybe you should just call it a night and go home. But then Haechan speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be a virgin anymore."
His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you turn to look at him, really look at him for the first time since you arrived. He looks vulnerable, and you can see the fear in his eyes. But you can also see the determination. He knows what he wants, and he's not going to let anything stand in his way.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You know what you want too, but you also know that this is a big deal. You can't just jump into things without thinking them through. "I don't know if I'm the right person for that, Haechan," you say finally. "Taking someone's virginity is a big deal. It's not something to be taken lightly."
Haechan nods, his eyes still locked with yours. "I know. But I trust you, Y/N." His words make your heart skip a beat, and you can feel your cheeks heating up.
"Okay," you say finally. "Okay, we can do this.”
Somehow, the tables had turned on you; and this was getting a lot sappier than you had anticipated.
The awkwardness settles back into the room, Haechan staring at you with his doe eyes, the nervousness flitting about his delicate features.
It’s a beat – a short pause before he speaks so low you almost miss it, “You know I want to fuck you.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
Maybe he’d give you a logical answer and you’d understand; put your shirt back on and let him get back to his video games while you silently scrolled Instagram.
But when was he ever logical?
And when were you ever one to back down?
Faster than you can register, he’s pushing your shoulders backwards until you fall breathlessly against his pillow. He climbs over top of you, his usual goofy smirk replaced with an intensity you both had felt the night before at the frat house. “Nothing’s stopping me.” His breath tickles your cheeks, “But I can’t tell if you’re fucking serious or taking a joke way too far.” A scoff rumbles in his chest, “I’ve damn near bared my soul to you tonight.”
“Not a joke-” you try to argue, but he talks over you.
“Ya know, just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean you can treat me like a plaything.” his head lolls to the side, “Well I mean if you wanted to, you could – but that’s not the point..” He sighs, pressing his face closer to yours, so that you were almost nose to nose. One more inch and you’d be kissing him, “I’m trying to say that if this is a joke… I’m sorry, but I’m gonna fuck you.”
“I – Are you sure about this? You won’t regret anything in the morning?”
He scoffs, “Have you not been listening to me when I speak to you? I’ve been wanting this for ages,” Eyes, half-lidded with desire, wash over your exposed chest, “I’m not gonna regret a damn thing.”
The butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably when Haechan dips his head and captures your lips in a kiss. All you can taste is the fizziness of the redbull he’d been drinking earlier, and something undeniably him. It was urgent and wet, lips sliding over yours to deepen the kiss, dribbles of spit smearing on your cheeks. He was messy.
“No regrets.” You solidify, breath hitching in your throat when his hands cup your breasts – his thumbs flicking over your nipples.
He groans, hips desperately pushing against you, “Let me eat you out.” he asks, though it wasn’t really a question because he starts to lower himself down your figure; pressing wet kisses to your chest. First it’s your collarbone, then the swell of your breasts, all the way down until he hovered right above your skirt.
Your head is reeling with how forward he was, “You’re kinda bold for a vir-”
He slaps a rough hand over your jaw, “If you even so much as utter that word, I’ll shove my cock so far down your throat you won’t be able to speak for a week.” Tauntingly, he quirks an eyebrow as if to dare you, “And anyways,” he continues, moving his hand up to ruffle your hair, “Just because I’ve never stuck my dick between a woman’s thighs doesn’t mean I don’t know how to please one.”
It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, in shock or contemplation of his words, you weren’t sure.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that baby,” Lust drips from his words like venom, the pet name rolling off his tongue a little too certainly, “Sitting up here playing video games has made me exceptionally good with my hands,” he smirks, “and I guess I’m naturally good with my tongue… I don’t know, you’ll have to tell me, yeah?”
Furiously, you nod your head, eyes wide and marveling at this side of Haechan. The one slightly out of breath and bursting with the need to taste you. He was hot. More so than you were expecting. You should pay closer attention sometimes.
He doesn’t waste time undoing your skirt. Instead, he pushes it up until it bunched at your waist, and pretty pink panties were the only thing blocking him from doing what he wanted. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he pulls them down agonizingly slow. “So pretty.” he whispers.
Without hesitation, he flattens his tongue and licks up your slit, a low rumble building in his chest. You tasted exactly like he had imagined.
The contact makes you gasp, and you fumble around for something to hold onto – choosing his hair as the only viable option. One tug and he’s whining against your clit, hips pressing into the bed unbeknownst to you.
“Y-you like hair pulling?” You question, doing it again to test the waters. He doesn’t answer, just groans against your pussy, tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Strong arms hook underneath your hips and pull hard, until you’re sat right up against his face.
“Hyuck.” you whimper, legs shaking. He was relentless, nosing your clit and fucking you with his tongue – all but lapping at the embarrassing amount of arousal wetting the inside of your thighs. “Hyuck!”
He perks up, lips puffy and jaw shining in the dim light of his bedroom, “What?”
You feel almost shy at his stare, a blush settling over your cheeks and burning hot at the back of your neck, “D-don’t wanna cum just yet.” You stutter out.
Surprisingly, he rolls his eyes, “Let me stretch you out a little bit, okay baby?” There’s no time for you to respond because two of his fingers press against your entrance and slide in with ease. Simultaneously he dives back in, teeth slightly grazing your clit.
“Fuck!” Your back arches up off the bed, hips rolling against his face. His fingers pump into you, the stretch leaving your thighs shaking.
“See baby, all done,” He slips his fingers out and gives you one final suckle, “God, I can’t wait to fuck you.”
Words are unattainable right now, head still reeling from how fucking good he was with his tongue. That’s where he’d gotten the most practice, but you weren’t expecting that. It was what – less than two minutes? Yet you were already fucked out, body buzzing with excitement. If that was just the beginning, what was to come?
While lost in your thoughts, Haechan rid himself of his shirt and shimmied his shorts down.
The video didn’t do him justice.
Yeah, he looked decently big on his phone screen, but after weeks of contemplation, you could only assume it was the angle.
Oh, how wrong you were.
His cock stood thick and heavy, proudly slapping his lower stomach when he moves to throw his clothes on the floor. It was red and leaking pre-cum, and your mouth waters. Oh, how you wanted to hop up and stuff him down your throat. You wanted to milk him until he was shaking and sobbing for you to stop.
But another part wanted him in you, now.
Deep lines of muscle were etched into his torso – contracting when he leant down to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on his lips, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. Haechan was whimpering; all but shaking against you. The vibrations shot straight into your veins like a drug and when he pulls back and sits on his knees, you almost moan.
You are no better than a man.
Watching the way he touches his body, so soft and careful; tugging at his cock impatiently while his eyes are transfixed on the way your pussy clenches around nothing – it sends a desperate signal down between your thighs.
“Enough!” You whine, “Want you in me.”
His trademark smirk appears on his face, “Okay baby… but..,” he chews on his bottom lip in hesitation, “… I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last..”
“I don’t care!” You wail, annoyed, “Fuck me.”
“So demanding,” He huffs, hands fumbling to push your thighs apart. Looking to you for reassurance that everything was alright, he appeared somewhat uncertain and hesitant.
“It’s okay, ” you breathe, gasping when he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance. “Hold my hand!” It was a statement to make him feel surer of himself, but deep down, you knew it was because you were just as nervous.
Shakily, his hand slides into yours and pushes it against the pillow next to your head. He takes a deep breath. This is silly, he chides himself, just stick it in! You’ve been dreaming about this forever! Be a fucking man.
Slowly, he pushes himself fully into you while still maintaining eye contact.
“Fuck!” you both curse at the same time. His eyes flicker in the back of his head, lips trembling when he bottoms out, now sheathed inside your warm cunt. It’s taking everything in him not to cum right there – and you know it too. He stays like that for a minute longer – not moving, just processing.
“Hyuck…” You whimper, resting your legs on his back. He mumbles a mhm, too focused on steadying his breathing, getting his bearings, finding the will to actually fuck you. “Hyuck, you have to move.”
“M-maybe we should use a c-condom.” He stutters, eyelashes fluttering and tangling together. The interlocked grip on your hands falters when you rut your hips up against him. “F-fuck, we need to use a condom.” His breathing is labored as he tries to gather everything he’s feeling and seeing at once. The way your pussy sucks him in, squeezing around his length just fucking right, the feeling of your nipples brushing his chest every time he bottoms out, and the wet kisses being pressed to the juncture between his neck and collarbone. It was making his head dizzy, and he can feel himself already about to – “I’m gonna cum if you keep, fuck – y/n, stop kissing my n-neck.”
Lost in the satisfying pleasure of him stretching you out, you hadn’t even realized you were kissing him – everywhere. Licking at the place just below his earlobe, suckling bruises into the honey gold skin of his throat, and nipping at his jaw. And every time your lips or tongue grazed him, he shallowly thrusted into you – too caught up in the sensations to get a steady rhythm.
You purse your lips in a pout, pulling your head back to rest on the pillow, and stare up at him, “Why stop if you like it.”
“Good p-point.” He stutters out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Maybe that would hide the pink tinging his cheeks – the embarrassment. Or maybe it was because he wanted to be enveloped by you completely. “Fuck,” He groans, his cock dragging against your walls with a concentrated pace – like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. And if that was the case, he was succeeding.
You mewl and moan every time he slips out of you, just to fuck into you deeper than before. Time doesn’t pass, you don’t register anything but the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach – one that catches you off guard. As you arch your body into his touch, your mind begins to cloud.
Words of praise spill from your lips uncontrollably, "You're doing so well," you murmur, and he whimpers. “So good Hyuckie,” You moan, feeling his head still buried in your neck. “Keep going, baby.” The encouragement rips a broken sob from his throat, but he keeps driving his cock between your legs. He couldn’t stop – how could he? You were like his own personal brand of heroin.
His voice comes out muffled when speaks, “Want you to- fuck.. need you to...” His fingers are trembling, jaw slacked as he forgets his train of thought, “Slow down, wait – I need you to, y/n.. oh fuck this.” a rush of air tickles your body as Haechan tightens his hold and flips you over; worming his way underneath your body so that your legs were now slotted over his waist, cock still pushing into you. “There we go,” he mutters.
The action sends your head spinning, and a squeal rips from your throat. “Woah!”
“Woah!” he mocks, bullying his cock into you at such a fast pace, you were battling to keep your balance. His hands held onto your hips so tightly, there were bound to be a few fingerprint shaped bruises tomorrow morning. But that didn’t matter – not when he was burying his length into you again and again and again, abusing your g-spot to the point you’re babbling nonsense.
Your thighs are quivering on either side of him, struggling to keep yourself bouncing on his cock. Equally shaky hands pepper his chest in an attempt to hold onto something as the fire in your stomach burns hotter. Every whimper, every sob, every moan that falls past his lips is like another burning ember – shooting and twisting through your veins.
“G-gonna cum, Hyuck, gonna – “ you mewl, clawing at his collarbones and shoulders.
A harsh slap lands on your ass as he continues to piston his hips up underneath you. Just hearing you say the words edges him even closer to his own orgasm, “Please baby, cum – shit, cum on my cock, you can do it.” He groans through gritted teeth. Another smack lands, “God, I know you can do it.”
Your eyes roll back as you completely fall apart – he never stopped fucking into you. Not even when you all but collapsed on top of him, heartbeat erratic and gasping for breath. Not even when you begged him to slow down, begged him to give you a chance to recover, maybe get into a different position.
“Just give me one second baby, fuck, I still need to cum,” Like a lightbulb went off, he perks, “Wait- where do you want me t-to cum,” He’s rocking his body into yours now, sweat rolling down his temple with the exertion of holding back. “An-Answer! I can’t hold it anymore you feel too fucking good.”
Swirled in your own euphoria, you barely register his words, yet you manage to whimper against his neck, “Cum in me Hyuckie, please, I’m on the pill.”
The permission is all he needs, but the nickname is what sends him straight into a head high that has him burying his cock deep in you and releasing. Strong arms wrap around your torso and pull you against his shaking body while spurts of cum flood your pussy. He sounds exactly like he did in the video he showed you a few weeks ago – like he was sobbing with relief. Whining and whimpering, lolling his head side to side as he fucks the last of his cum deep into you.
He tries not to move, he tries really fucking hard, but every time you twitched, it squeezed around him again and again – curses flying from his body as he tried to squirm away. He slips out of you quickly, cum smearing on his belly and all over your thighs, “That was…”
You can hear his heartbeat – almost as erratic as yours is, and he’s puffing air, trying to catch an even breath. Both of you are sticky and tired – worn the fuck out. If you tried to push yourself off of him, you think you might topple over, so you don’t. You stay locked in his embrace, listening to the way his breathing slows and chest thumps.
“That was what?”
He runs a hand through his hair, “Everything I’ve dreamt of.”
Giggling, you snuggle closer to him. Who knew he’d be the type to sweet talk after sex. With how much he boasted and teased, you thought he’d be more… you don’t know… arrogant? You liked this side of him though.
Ah, shut up! you think to yourself, you’re not falling in love with him, so stop.
Haechan was a friend no matter if he did just fuck your brains out.
“Gonna go to the bathroom.” you mumble. Anything to get away from him and the swirls of ooey-gooey feelings.
Clambering off of him proved to be easier than you thought earlier, and the wobble to the bathroom was only slightly embarrassing. You thank God for privacy when you shut the door behind you.
As you look at your reflection in the mirror, you realize how much of a mess you are. Your hair is disheveled, mascara smudged and streaking, and your lipstick is smeared. Dark colored hickies scattered across your chest and collarbones. Despite this, you feel satisfied and content (Regardless of any stupid feelings that might be lingering).
Yet if Hyuck were to sneak in the bathroom behind you and beg for another round, you’d give it to him, no matter if the original challenge was a one and done kind of deal.
Your eyes widen into saucers… the challenge.
It was actually done – or at least partially.
You smirk.
Challenge 1/3 complete.
Maybe you should have stayed the night, but you were gone before the sun peeked over the tree line.
Haechan was still faintly snoring when you had slipped out from underneath the covers, and he only slightly stirred when you accidentally banged your toe on his gaming chair. His parted lips, and tinged cheeks made him look like an innocent angel.
One that you corrupted.
As you hurriedly walk back to your dorm building, you can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt fluttering about your stomach.
“Was this really a one-time thing?” he had asked right before his eyes had fluttered closed.
You had sighed, fidgeting with a thread on his comforter, “I don’t know Hyuck… maybe… I – I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
Perhaps his shoulders had deflated with disappointment at your response, but you’d like to think he was just tired.
“Okay, let’s pretend it never happened then. Everything can go back to normal and… and if you want, I’ll be here to satisfy you again.” He had grinned then, although rather grim.
“Deal.”
You shoulder your dorm door and drop your bag on the kitchen table before grabbing a water out of the fridge. Thirstily gulping, you realize that even though it was his first time, he knew how to wear you out.
Points for that, you think.
You quietly slip into your room and take a seat at your desk after tossing the crushed plastic bottle into the trashcan. This is the moment you've been waiting for - a chance to rate the very first boy in the challenge. You grab a stray notebook from a stack nearby, open it to a fresh page, and begin.
Points for doing good his first time…Points for multiple positions…Points for eating you out first…Points for being whiny…Points for being eager…
There wasn’t really a system for your rating, but you take a satisfied look at the number and nod your head.
Congratulation Hyuck, you’ve received a 7.4/10, you think.
Despite it being his first time, he did exceptionally well. Who else could have lasted as long as he did, said the things he did, or fucked the way he did. Slowly, you find yourself slipping back into the memories, a play-by-play from start to finish – until a ping from your pocket drags you out.
Your heart leaps up in your throat.
What if it was him? What if he was asking why you left?
When you pull your phone out from your back pocket, you sigh in relief. It was just Jaemin.
You toss your phone onto your desk and slump against the chair. Jaemin didn’t press the question of why you were up… and hopefully he didn’t say anything during breakfast.
Pushing yourself upright, you dance through the laundry strewn across your floor and into the bathroom.
Despite what you said, you also had to wash the sex smell away. God, you were becoming just like Jaemin. Up at the ass crack of dawn to shower off cum and sweat and spit. Unexpectedly, you grip the shower curtain as a thought bounces around the inside of your skull.
Na Jaemin was just getting his dick wet… with Yeji, of all people. One of his recurring fwb situations.. But.. he was fucking her.
The video he had showed you the first night flashes through your brain. His cock thick and proud, pushing into the girl so fluidly, so rhythmically, so intensely. Until she squirted and he laughed. He had fucking laughed. You remember what he had said, “God you’re so fucking hot. NaNa did that, didn’t he? Mhm…come here pretty girl.”
And even though Haechan had pounded you into the next week, you feel yourself clenching around nothing.
Don’t worry Jaemin, your turn is next.
did you like it? if you did, consider leaving me a like, a reblog, a review, or some feedback in my askbox :)
A. NOTE | big thank you to lou, @peachjaem00, for helping me get over my writers block for this fic.. and for just being fucking awesome! i love you <3
Note: Some of these works may contain mature/explicit content, so please read the warnings of each story beforehand! Happy reading!
Part 2 Part 3
Impulse (1k)
And when he brings you close for another kiss, he feels it too. How he’s putty with you, how he’s all yours to touch, to mold, to have, to break apart and be put back together over and over. Donghyuck pulls apart, rests his head against yours, and suddenly, without much thought, says three words.
Untitled #1 (1k)
He just feels like a pervert from how inviting he finds the space between your thighs, the one place he could spend hours happily distracted by.
pairing: jeong jaehyun x fem!reader
word count: 6.6K
genre: colorblind!jae, acrylic painter!reader, jae’s mom is reader’s art mentor, jae hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, major crushing from both sides, slow burn but also not slow burn (like a nice simmering burn), swearing, immense fluff, reader acts like she’s on an adrenaline rush 24/7, jealousy, angst, explosive arguments, lowkey toxic, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, mentions of best friend!johnny, jae sucks at flirting (but in a cute way…kind of)
summary: for as long as he can remember, jaehyun’s world has been in black and white - giving him no reason to appreciate his mother’s profession as an artist and the beauties that art can provide. however, an accidental meeting with you gives him reason to doubt his former beliefs - proving to him that there may be true beauty in a world that’s void of everything bright, that beauty being the sunshine that you provide.
Whenever the sun meets its peak at the high dawning point in the sky is when Jaehyun knows it’s a perfectly acceptable time to visit his oh-so-beloved mother. If he could, he would spend every waking moment with her - he’s a momma’s boy through and through - not only because she birthed him and taught him everything he knows, but because she’s kind and good. She’s also one of - scratch that - she’s the only person he can stand to be around for more than twenty four hours - and he takes great pride in having such a wonderful woman in his life.
However, despite how dearly he holds his mother to his heart, the issue with visiting her at this time of day is that she’s in her art studio. A place he loathes more than having to wear wet socks with sneakers. While it’s a beautiful space, with high wooden beams and floor to ceiling windows, he finds himself nauseous at the mere sight of the countless tubes of oil and acrylic paints. It’s not that the smell or colors are distasteful, it’s the fact that no matter how hard he squints and struggles, he cannot fathom what the simple color red looks like.
Complete black and white color blindness isn’t a life threatening condition in the slightest, but for Jaehyun, it feels as if he’s being stabbed through the sternum at any notion of the changing leaves or colorful streaks of light across the sun-setting sky.
He doesn’t hate his mother for being an artist, he simply hates the art itself.
synopsis | With your fizzy drinks and vinyls in tow, you’re determined to make the most of your summer before the start of your first year at university. Everything’s seemingly perfect; humid afternoons with your closest friends, late-night mixers at your local alumnis' estates, and sleeping in to ungodly hours. What you didn’t predict, however, was your brother making the early trip home to surprise you with a certain someone — namely, his best friend since childhood — following closely behind. His unexpected appearance throws you off, and suddenly, your summer is filled to the brim with his presence. You’re finally able to taste the idea of mature love, but is it really all that it’s made out to be?
content | brother!taeyong, retro-themed au, angst, fluff, coming of age, language warning, suggestive, mentions and consumption of alcohol/drugs
wc | 26.7k
song | delicate — taylor swift
a/n | for @hyuckmov and @rrxnjun, who kept me sane while writing this monster :D
...
The first week of summer before your freshman year of university is defined by sticky ‘n sweet cherry cola, rides around the abandoned carousel with your friends, and “borrowing” quarters out of your brother’s Cadillac to insert into the jukebox of the local diner; break has been this way since as long as you could remember. It's a familiar itinerary, one that plays back routinely every school break.
You’ve grown up without even realizing, your teenage days spent juggling academic work and getting into stupid situations with Mark and Chaewon trickling down to a close. This conclusion really hit you during an epiphany on a sweltering night after high school graduation.
It occurred in the midst of humid sepia air, the three of you still in your graduation caps and gowns as your bodies lay splayed across the asphalt leading down to your street. With the absence of cars coming down the wide road, it was perfectly rational to lay side by side in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The ground was simply the best place to ponder your thoughts and get lost in swirling memories now that university lay too close on the horizon; the sheer size of the sky seemed to mock your trio as you watched the clouds roll on by in their mismatched shapes and harrowing wisps.
A cigar — one comically too big for his face — hung between Mark’s fingers as he pushed his body to flop over your arm, the thing no doubt “borrowed” from the bottom of his father’s office drawer.
“Thank the Lord I’ll never have to see you bitches again,” he had sighed in pretend relief, blowing a tunnel of smoke into the side of your face as you pushed his warm skin off of yours. Chaewon snorted from beside you.
“Please, as if you’ll last a day without us at uni,” she retorted, rolling over onto her stomach and pulling a face at Mark’s teasing words. “I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve saved your life over this past month alone.”
“Yeah?” Mark grinned, supporting his upper body with his forearms as he turned to look at her over your relaxed figure. “Enlighten me.” She subsequently raised her eyebrows at him.
“Might I remind you of the time you got stuck at the drive-through cinema at 2am because you had locked yourself out of your car? And guess whose asses had to haul yours back home two hours away,” Chaewon pointed an accusing finger at Mark, her tone joking as she glared at said boy. He opened his mouth to say something but she held up a finger to her mouth in a shushing motion, stopping him. “And. Let’s not forget last week,” Mark furrowed his eyebrows, as if trying to recall which out of all the dumb decisions he had made was about to be relived, “when Kang Yujin pushed up on you during that one house party, you got a hard on from just that, and we had to cover for you-”
Mark shot up abruptly, leaning over you to slap a hand over Chaewon’s mouth before rushing to defend himself.
“But she was so hot, Chae, you wouldn’t understand,” he whined at her, frowning at you to do something and sympathize with him. It was expected by now, the regular petty and half-assed arguments making your friendship that much stronger.
As they continued bickering back and forth, you couldn’t help but let your mind drift away back into the clouds, the setting sun soaking them with a blazing, burnt umber. You would be going to college soon, and that meant no Mark, no Chaewon, and no parents to keep you sane. It was strange to imagine not spending every waking moment with your two best friends, and even stranger to think that going to different schools would mean no more daily drama fill-ins and midnight convenience store runs.
But after all, you had done it once, and you hoped you could do it again.
When your older brother Taeyong left for university a few years ago, it had practically shattered you. Sure, you found him incredibly annoying at times (still do) and had a constant vendetta against the man, but when the moment came to hug him goodbye, you just couldn’t bring yourself to let go. He had shown you the ins and outs of adolescence and given you the attention you craved when your parents couldn’t. He taught you how to take care of yourself, how to look in the mirror and recognize your worth, how to know your own limits, and how to realize that high school boys weren’t shit. He was always the first to get to the hospital when you had gotten hurt at school, and most important of all, he was with you throughout the highs and lows growing up.
If Taeyong leaving home had taught you anything, it was that time moves too fast — and it’ll only move faster as you get older. You know that your life is about to enter Round 2, and this time without anyone to hold your hand as you enter an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people.
But it’s not over just yet.
Your best friends would never let that happen, and you recognize this now as your golden trio sits in your town’s local record shop, with ceiling fans whirring above you as the cool storefront protects you from the blazing summer heat.
It’s after-hours but the sun still burns bright into the late afternoon. You recline in the cashier chair as Chaewon flips the 'open' sign closed and makes her way back to you and Mark, the latter sitting against the wall with a variety of bottles surrounding him on the checkered floor.
He’s in an odd position, and you just know his mother would flip if she saw him with this much alcohol on a wednesday afternoon (at least it’s not a Sunday after mass, but she definitely doesn’t need to know that he’s been there, done that already). Mark tests out new concoctions every week, using the record store as his work space; the owner’s never in town and barely any customers come in to buy records these days, so there’s no one to stop him. Chaewon raises her eyebrows as she eyes the newest addition to his special menu.
“I’m not even gonna ask,” you say as he swirls the amber liquid around in a clean whisky bottle. Mark whistles at his creation, impressed, before holding it up to you and shaking it tauntingly. It smells slightly floral, the sharp flavors of absinthe and cognac making your nose scrunch.
“You’re just mad that your mixes don’t hit as hard as mine, baby.” With another swirl, he lifts the drink up to his mouth to taste. “And because you so nicely asked,” Mark smirks at you, “it’s Peychaud’s Bitters, cognac, syrup, and anise, and I give you my permission to borrow the recipe to impress your future uni friends. You’re welcome.” You shove Mark’s shoulder with your palm as he laughs at your baffled expression, body shaking with amusement while he sips away at his newest pride.
It’s only when Chaewon reaches over to steal the bottle away from him that your phone starts ringing, startling all three of you as the name of your older brother flashes across the screen. Mark looks at you inquisitively, but you just shrug in response and press the receive button.
“Tae?” you inquire, surprised at the sudden call. “Everything okay?”
He hums at the end of the line.
“More than okay. Guess whose plans just changed and is actually coming home today for break,” he reveals right away, and you know he’s smiling by the way his tone of voice is lilted in true Taeyong fashion.
“No fucking way,” you breathe out, eyes widening. Taeyong’s back? “Today, right now? For the entire summer? You’re actually lying- wait wait I’m coming home right now. Wait. Wait for me.”
“‘Wait wait wait,’ I’m not going anywhere sis,” he grins as he mocks you, noises of shuffling sounding out over your phone speaker. “Mom’s gonna pick me up from the airport in 30, I think. See you then?”
“Lee Taeyong! How could you not tell me,” you frown into the receiver, “I need at least three business days to prepare before seeing your face.”
“Oh, shut up would you. I have literal voicemail receipts of you crying about how much you miss me,” Taeyong retorts, topping your sarcasm.
You sigh, rubbing your temple when you realize that Taeyong’s never gonna let your sad-drunk voicemails go. “Fine, but you better spend every single day with me.”
Taeyong protests jokingly before giving in, promising you that he’ll make up for the time you’ve missed together. With a little, love you, and more of his usual unsolicited comments, the two of you say your quick goodbyes and you turn back to your waiting friends.
“Damn, Taeyong’s really back?” Mark looks at you in awe, his eyes shining with admiration. “He never stays for long, that’s crazy. You gotta let me come over at least once,” he pleads, hands grabbing yours. You know that your best friend looks up to your brother a ton, so you nod at him. “Sick, imma finally be able to talk music with him.”
“Wait, if Taeyong’s coming home for the entire summer,” Chaewon pauses, a knowing smile growing on her face as you groan, knowing exactly what she’s about to say next, “that means a certain Jeong Jaehyun will probably be following him back as well. And likely other kids in their year too from SNU… holy shit, the parties are gonna be literally insane this summer.” She throws her head back in elation as the realization strikes the three of you at once.
“You’re so right,” Mark covers his mouth to hide the smug grin taking over his face. He makes a heart with his hands as he observes you. “I can’t believe that I forgot Miss Y/N over here had the biggest crush on Jaehyun in high school.” You hit him on the chest in response as he absolutely loses it over your misfortune.
“Lovergirl,” he sing-songs, adding fuel to the fire while you shove your face into your palms. Your cheeks warm on their own when your mind flash-backs to your second year of high school, your insufferable crush on your brother’s best friend surfacing memories that you had buried after they both had graduated two years ago.
“I’m leaving,” you mumble into your hands, “all you two do is make me suffer.”
Chaewon grins at you before pulling your figure into a tight hug, tugging Mark in too by his shirt to join your little group.
“It’s out of love,” she giggles before kissing your cheek with an exaggerated muah. Turning slowly towards Mark, he lets out a, “nope nope nope,” before scrambling away from Chaewon’s outstretched arms.
Smiling at their antics, you collect your few belongings and tuck some new records under your arm before heading out of the shop. Saluting your friends goodbye and opening the front door, you cringe at the wave of heat that seeps into the cool space.
“Say hi to Taeyong for me, Y/N! We’ll lock up for today,” Chaewon calls out from behind the counter, sending you an air kiss when you step out into your town’s center square.
The streets buzz with life as you make the quick walk back to your house. With a brilliant sunset soaking the streets in tangerine tones and a line of quaint shops’ wind chimes fluttering beside you, you can’t bring yourself to care about the heat. The alleys you stroll down are comfy, lined with the latest pastel DeLoreans and colorful paper garlands tied along their telephone lines. It’s a complete memory lane, and your comfy suburb — filled with traditional gaewa roofs and terracotta neutrals, clay-red stained roads and gated hanoks — hold a familiarity that no other could replace. It’s the more cramped side of town, and you might envy Taeyong’s thrilling city life that you see through his social media, but nothing will ever beat home.
Your lace camisole sticks to your skin with fervor as you finally get to your own address, letting out a sigh of relief when cool shade encompasses you in the juniper-tinted light of the mudroom. Setting your brand-new records onto the kitchen floor, their faded titles peeking over thin paper sheaths, you make yourself comfortable on the floor as you hum to yourself. The house is quiet.
You put one of the new records into your player before your gaze drifts over to a stack of pictures on the tabletop, filtered evenly between stray letters and tacky postcards that your older brother has always had a knack for.
In addition to texting and calling home every month, Taeyong made it a habit a few years ago to send you the little magazine cut-outs and mini posters that he sees on his escapades, trinkets that remind him of you. Your little kitchen-counter-collection has thinned out in the past months as your brother got increasingly busier with school and his modeling jobs, barely coming home for a few days before rushing back for castings and elite functions. Nonetheless, a little orange package addressed to you would appear at your doorstep with each change of the seasons, tinged with your brother’s cologne and topped with his messy handwriting.
Just as you place the needle on a shiny black record with Missy Elliot’s face plastered across its front, you hear the front door creak open before noises of rolling luggage and playful shouting fill the house's interior.
“Mom, I’m not ten anymore,” you hear Taeyong whine in the higher-pitched voice he reserves solely for family, the telltale sign of his embarrassment, “I can carry my backpack myself. Promise.”
You can imagine the scene before you even see it: your brother looking away to the window as he tries to fight the smile creeping on his face, your mother on her tip-toes as she musses with her son’s hair even though he’s a head taller, and of course, your father leaning against the door with a content grin as his watches his wife’s face light up with happiness that the family is together again.
When you hear their footsteps near your seated figure on the kitchen floor, you feel your brother’s presence before you even see him.
Taeyong stops a few paces away from you, dropping his bag carelessly on the ground before standing with his arms outstretched and eyebrows raised. With his messy hair and airport clothes still hanging off his shoulders, your brother looks like a favorite uncle at holiday dinners when he hasn’t seen his favorite niece and nephew all year.
“Aren’t you gonna come say hi to your best friend before you abandon me for your vinyls again,” he teases before crossing the threshold in three steps and embracing you fully. “It’s been a while, hmm rockstar?”
You hum at the familiar term of endearment, sinking into his figure as your brother rocks you back and forth. You look up at him, his face looking more mature and sharp than when you saw him last.
“You gotta catch me up on that crazy life of yours, yeah? We have all summer.”
Nodding contently, you follow your brother and parents into the dining room for dinner before settling back into the feeling of having four people at home again. Just like the old days, before Taeyong left, where your worries were limited and you allowed yourself to be childish.
…
If anything makes you glad you’re alive, it’s being able to wake up at 2pm in the afternoon on a Thursday and feeling you just gained ten years. It’s truly a blessing, and if you were a bit more religious, you’d be thanking God right now for no school and black-out curtains.
Quickly getting ready, you give one last glance at yourself in the mirror before rushing downstairs to see if anyone’s home still. To your surprise, you catch Taeyong right as he’s opening the door to the basement.
“So she’s alive,” he calls out with an approving nod, surprised that you actually managed to wake up before the sun sets once again. You roll your eyes as you pull cereal in front of you on the kitchen table. The two of you are back to your old ways in a matter of hours, making fun of each other at every chance you get.
“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to enjoy life, Tae,” you shrug, grabbing leftovers from the fridge. He simply tsks at you before walking over to affectionately ruffle your hair, drawing a complaint from you about messing it up.
“Anyway, some of my old friends are coming over today to catch up. We’re probably gonna be downstairs for a while so just let them in the front when they come,” your brother relays, moving back towards the basement when you throw up an okay sign. He gives you a knowing look. “You’re always welcome to join, you know. They all love you.”
You crinkle your nose at the idea. Sure, you’re pretty familiar with most of Taeyong’s high school friends, but you really aren’t too keen on the idea of spending your afternoon with a bunch of older boys when you could be hanging out with Mark and Chaewon.
“I’m okay. You guys have fun, though.”
Resuming your attention on your food, you open the front door a couple times over the next hour for said boys. Their features chiseled, styles changed, and voices a bit deeper, they’re all caught by surprise when you open the door for them (Yuta’s inability to recognise you at all really takes the cake). You suppose that a lot can change in two years.
After the seventh ring of the doorbell, you sigh in exasperation before making your way to the front once again. You grumble under your breath before opening the door, the bitter expression wiping right off your face when you see the two figures in front of you.
“Johnny!”
“Y/N,” the familiar boy exclaims, his towering stature enveloping you in a warm hug before pulling back and examining your growth. “Look who’s all pretty and grown! You look so much like Taeyong now that it’s scary,” he beams at you while turning your face side to side with his hands, and you can’t help but return it. If anyone was as much of an older brother figure as your real one was, it would be Johnny.
“Hey,” a voice sounds out besides him after a few moments of Johnny’s compliments, startling you, and your eyes finally flick over to the subject of your teenage years’ daydreams. Your heart floods with a jittery feeling when he reaches out to give you a hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”
Jeong Jaehyun hasn’t changed a bit since you last saw him at your brother’s graduation.
His hair is a bit longer now, dark brown curls shimmering gold in the sunlight and his ears now adorned with more silver studs and rings. But the sun-kissed freckles dusting his nose, the deep-set dimples, the starry eyes — they’re exactly the same as you remember.
He’s still breathtaking.
Johnny bursts your little moment as he grabs your arm to lead you back into your house, pulling both you and Jaehyun along with him to the basement entrance.
Even though you’re painfully aware of your fingers nervously playing with the bracelets on your wrist, it’s true that these boys practically watched you grow up. Even when you look at a certain brown-eyed boy, your whole world feels like it's stopping. Even when your stupid childhood crush on your brother’s best friend was supposed to be gone by now. You know them, and they know you.
After Johnny and Jaehyun disappear down the stairs with a small goodbye and the invitation to join them once again, you head back up to your own room, collapsing onto your bed and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across your ceiling.
You remember your brother and Jaehyun setting them up for you many years ago, their young figures using your bed as leverage to stick them on when you were still too short to reach. You had handed each star carefully to the boys, making sure the adhesive side was up before telling them where to place each one. They waited patiently for you to give them every star until the whole box was empty, the three of you high fiving before you had thanked them enthusiastically. Taeyong had simply pinched your cheek and said, “anything for my baby sister,” before pulling Jaehyun away to play another video game in the living room.
Taeyong was a kind older brother, never complaining when your mother told him to bring you with him and his friends on their little adventures. Occasionally he found you annoying, but his friends never minded your presence, so he couldn’t find a reason to either. You were integrated into their daily outings, the boys taking turns talking and playing games with you as the days progressed.
You think your liking to Jaehyun started then: when your young mind easily confused admiration with puppy love. Your brother’s friends were the nicest boys you had met, certainly nicer than the boys in your class at school. Jaehyun specifically always made sure you were comfortable, making silly faces at you when your eyes met across the room and remembering to bring you snacks from across the street when he got some for his best friend. He was perfect in your eyes.
When you started hanging out more with your own friends as you got older, things never really changed regarding your feelings for the boy. Your secret crush was still as prominent as ever, eyes following his mess of hair whenever he passed you in the hallway at school; it didn’t help that his name was passed around no matter what year you were. Jaehyun this and Jaehyun that, you were definitely not the only girl whose heartbeat stopped whenever he looked their way. He was polite, confident, and undeniably charming, your school’s beloved basketball team captain and a favorite of teachers: the kind of boy everyone wanted to be out of envy, but couldn’t. He was truly untouchable. Your classmates would stare at you in awe when he waved at you through the classroom entrance, telling you how lucky you were that your brother and his group were so cool and how you had guys like Jaehyun over all the time.
But it wasn’t like it was any different at home, where he would smile at you just the same as you worked on your homework in the kitchen before retreating back into the basement with Taeyong.
Even though fifteen year-old you thought your feelings were pretty damn strong at that time, the age gap felt a bit too gaping where kids two years older felt worlds away. By seventeen, they were already off driving and taking weekend trips, your brother’s license making leeway for nights when he and his friends wouldn’t return until sunrise. It felt a little bit like you had been left behind, and yeah, it sucked, but you decided right then and there that you could have fun without them. Taeyong’s friends weren’t necessarily yours in the first place, and you came to the realization that it might have been strange for you to be so close with them at an older age anyway.
If you were sad about not seeing Jaehyun in particular too much anymore, you tried not to show it. Your best friends — Mark and Chaewon — had always known, teasing you relentlessly when the older boy was around, but the idea of him was only a lingering thought at the back of your mind when he graduated. Your ears still perked up hearing his name in passing, but you had your own problems to consume your thoughts and started getting into a new genre of trouble with your friends; the idea of Jaehyun was supposed to be dead and buried six feet under.
So then why was he plaguing your mind like this after years of successfully not thinking about him?
You groan and throw an arm over your face.
Shit.
…
“My little film-maker,” a voice pops up from above you, the grinning face of your brother accompanying it as he surprises you into oblivion. You make a face up at him and offer a reluctant little wave before returning back to your camcorder, zooming in on Chaewon beside you.
You’re on the asphalt outside your house again. The air’s cooler today, a gray sheet of clouds blocking any of the sun’s rays from reaching your golden trio. With your head on Mark’s legs, he strums his guitar gently as Chaewon hums along to the familiar tunes. Her hands are busy on their own, one arm out while her other uses markers to draw a garden into her skin with washed-out blues and oranges.
You turn the camera around to point at Taeyong, the said boy poking his tongue out before plopping down beside Mark.
“I feel like I always find you guys on the ground,” he mutters, observing the way Mark strums his instrument with care and experience. Your friend looks a little intimidated with the proximity of Taeyong leaning towards him, but he plays on nevertheless.
You shrug. “It’s more comfortable.”
“And we’re a little closer to Hell down here,” Chaewon adds on with a grin, pausing from her flesh-art to look up at Taeyong. “We’ll all be heading there soon anyway.”
“Smart girl,” he laughs out, throwing his head back to stare into the sky. He stays there for a good moment before jumping back up onto his feet and twirling a shiny set of car keys around his fingers. “Anyway, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal Y/N for a bit,” your brother fakes a trail of tears down his cheek with his fist. “Don’t miss her too much.”
“Never,” Mark smirks at you, reaching out to pat your arm affectionately when you let out an offended, Oscar worthy sob at his words.
“Don’t have more fun with him than you do with us, babe,” she calls out as Taeyong drags you off. You salute her back before she turns back to her painting.
Stumbling behind your brother to catch up with his long strides, your eyebrows raise when you catch sight of his infamous red Cadillac parked down the winding road. You grip on tighter to your camcorder before jogging up to the passenger side, ready to swing your legs over the side of the convertible.
“Not so fast,” Taeyong calls out, amused, as he strolls up casually to the driver's side. “We’re picking up some of the guys and Johnny already called shotgun yesterday. Take it up with him, rockstar.”
You splutter indignantly before crossing to the backseat with a huff, sinking into the car’s tan, leather seats and crossing your arms. “Not fair, Tae,” you complain at him before he starts the engine, starting off in the direction of an area you’ve never been before. “Where are we even going?”
He doesn’t answer.
Soon enough, three more bodies crowd into your brother’s car after dropping by Jungwoo’s condo, the boy squishing into the back with you as Jaehyun of all people slides into the seat on the other side of you. They offer smiles and quick greetings to you before the car takes off once again.
His proximity hits you far harder than Jungwoo’s, and you know exactly why. You keep your head tilted away from him as you try to focus on Johnny in the front seat, who’s passionately retelling an encounter he had at the supermarket this morning. It’s incredibly hard when Jaehyun moves and his thigh touches yours, fifteen year-old you coming back to life within you and screaming all sorts of insane things at your brain. You can physically feel his warmth radiating off his skin.
“—so we both reach out at the same time, and luckily, I snatch the crate right before her hands do. But,” Johnny pauses to look through the rearview mirror for dramatic effect, his shades glinting as the Cadillac speeds through dusty roads. “You won’t believe who those hands belonged to.”
He stills with the skill of an A-list actor, reaching up to pluck the sunnies off his face and stare right into Jaehyun’s eyes through the silver glass.
“Lim Saemi.”
Everybody has a different reaction to the name-drop, with Jungwoo and Taeyong’s gasp and your muffled noise ringing out as your eyes widen in the slightest. You try to glance at Jaehyun subtly, and his face doesn’t flicker a bit from its usual stoic expression, but you can feel him tense up next to you before relaxing a few seconds later. He appears seemingly unphased, and if you had not been watching carefully from out of the corner of your eye you would have fallen for it.
You know better, though.
“Oh? Is she back home for the summer too?” Jaehyun throws out casually, tucking his chin in his hand as he looks out through the wind.
“Wait Jae… you didn’t know? I thought if anyone would know first, it would be you,” Jungwoo leans back, surprised at this new development. “Even I knew, and everyone knows I don’t catch onto shit.”
“It’s whatever,” Jaehyun mumbles, deflecting the weird looks he receives. He ends the conversation with two words, and the car falls into silence with the only noises being those from tires against gravel. You glance at him before staring straight forward through the dash.
You know Lim Saemi.
Who doesn’t, in all honesty. Saemi is Saemi, and you’d be the weird one if you hadn’t heard her name at least once throughout your school years. She was like straight out of a Dior catalog. With as much impact as your older brother and his posse had left, she was everything all the girls in your year wanted to be: too pretty to be unnecessarily shallow, too smart to use her looks irrationally.
You remember Lim Saemi.
She’s two years older, like Taeyong and Jaehyun and Johnny. She was the girl who was occasionally over at your house during parties when your brother would force you upstairs, her bleached hair and delicate features drawing in everyone immediately. You remember watching from the top of the stairwell as her figure still captured attention in the darkness of winter’s pitch black nights. From your outside point of view, it was like she was the center of a spindling web that stretched throughout the bottom floor of your house; people just couldn’t help but be lured to her.
You wanted to be Lim Saemi.
Just for one day. You needed to know what it felt like to be the center of a certain boy’s affections, even though she attracted every other person’s along the way as well. She was a different type of suburban it-girl, one that everyone was sure would get snatched up into the celebrity world sooner or later with the way she carried herself.
You knew that Jaehyun and Saemi had always been “just friends” — or at least that was what they told everyone — but you could tell he had liked her throughout their high school years. How could you not, especially when you looked at him the same way he looked at her. Back then, it was more curiosity about their complicated relationship than hate fueled jealousy for you. You still couldn’t help but imagine him treating you with the affection he did with her; even as a teenager, you understood why. And ironically, as you sit in the backseat of your brother’s car with the very boy right beside you, the bubbling feeling of envy is uncomfortable in your gut.
Shaking your head out of your retrospective thoughts, you look around in confusion when the convertible starts to slow on a thinning road, towering evergreens blocking the sky from view.
Leading the car through another winding path, it emerges on the other side within acres of grassy fields and wildflower paths that circles a grandiose, central estate home. Marble blocks stretch across its stone ledges like ivy — an intimidating facade if you’ve ever seen one. Taeyong looks at you through the rearview mirror. His eyes crease in pride when he sees the wonder in yours, enraptured by the sight before you.
“Remember when Johnny said that he’d always wanted to go to a local car show?” your brother starts, grinning at his friend beside him. “Well, yours truly saw an ad at the record shop yesterday for one just outside of town. Someone compliment me, I feel like I just made all of our afternoons a thousand times better.”
“This is actually insane, Yong,” Jungwoo breathes out, eyes widening at the unfamiliar setting.
Retro cars of all brands and models are parked across an acre, their shiny coats glinting in the sun as masses of people linger near and talk amongst themselves. The white pillars of whoever’s home is hosting the car show serves as a gathering place for lovers to mingle, precariously held champagne flutes an ironic contrast to the grit and dirt of the event itself.
Johnny lets out a low whistle before resting his weight on the center console and lowering his sunglasses, observing the scene.
“This is exactly my type of place. Old, rich people and hot girls.”
“Oh my god, Johnny,” you laugh out, not at all surprised that those words came from his mouth.
You tear your gaze away from the outside view to look at Jaehyun after hearing his embarrassed groan at Johnny’s words. To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. With his piercing gaze on your face, you look away, flustered, playing it off with a small cough.
Taeyong parks his timeless Cadillac besides others of the same nature before leaving to roam around with Johnny and Jungwoo, buzzing with excitement. It’s no surprise that they make their way over to the group of girls huddled around a vintage truck model first, their giggles ringing out across the field as they throw sly glances to the boys headed their way. You catch sight of your brother leaning towards one in particular before deciding you’ve seen enough and turning to explore by yourself.
Thrilled to be left to your own devices, you follow your own little path off to the side towards a pastel-colored Corvette that had caught your eye earlier. Circling it for a few minutes and capturing it slowly through the lens of your camcorder, you smile happily to yourself while replaying the footage in the shade of a lonely willow tree. The cool breeze brings tangs of clementines and vanilla — from where, you don’t know — as well as the unmistakable scent of petrol and cigarettes as it picks up pieces of your hair before rustling the leaves of the willow.
“Can I see?” a familiar voice startles you. You look up to see Jaehyun’s lean figure making his way over to your crouched one, gesturing to your open camera with his head tilted. “If you’re comfortable, of course,” he adds, the corners of his lips quirking up. Mouth agape slightly for a few seconds, you shake yourself out of your momentary funk and nod, thrilled at his interest.
“The colors show up really well with this lighting, especially ‘cuz I just changed my saturation settings,” you mumble, stopping yourself when you realize he probably doesn’t care that much. Tucking your knees to your chest, you wait nervously as you hand the device to him.
You think your heartbeat just about stops when he replies with a “that’s so cool” under his breath.
Jaehyun holds the camera carefully to his chest before sitting down beside you, leaning against the tree trunk before flipping through your gallery. He takes his time watching every little video clip and picture, giving you a little noise of approval every few clicks.
You’re caught off guard when he sighs and puts the camcorder back in your lap, turning to you with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen grace his features.
“Y/N, you seriously might be better at this shit than the literal mixed media majors at my uni,” he deadpans. Taken aback, you can’t stop the rosy warmth that creeps up your cheeks. “I’m being so for real right now. Don’t ever stop.”
You pause.
“Do you know how reassuring that is to hear, especially from you?” you say with sincerity, holding eye contact with him.
“Hmm? Really, me?”
“Yeah. It feels like I’m doing something right, like I’m not wasting my time on a fruitless hobby.” Confessing one of your biggest fears to someone who’s familiar to you but not, close to you but not — now that’s probably one of the craziest things you’ve done this week, and you do a whole lot of crazy things in a week.
Jaehyun’s expression changes with your words. He doesn’t reply for a while, just seeming to take in the world around him with only his eyes. Looking from the drooping branches of the willow to its dirt-ingrained roots, his face is cast downwards with a faint, melancholic smile.
Now the mood is ruined, you think to yourself, bitter. Why do I always do this?
Before you can change the subject and move on from your awkward burt-out, he clears his throat.
“You know, I admire you a lot Y/N. You and Taeyong,” he starts, the slim chain around his neck glittering in the afternoon sun when he turns back to you. “Both of you have always been unafraid to pursue the arts, even though I know how your strict parents are about future careers and all that. I wish I had the courage to just… do what I like instead of being a pushover with my dad. Maybe I would be doing music with your brother instead of barely living day by day in pre-med.”
His usual confident eyes are tinged with regret and a little vulnerability as he ruffles his hair in the wind. You tilt your head at him, trying to come up with comforting words when you aren’t so sure if you’re qualified to give him advice in the first place.
“Well… I admire you a lot, Jaehyun. You’ve always been that one person who consistently looks like they have their life in check, someone who’s able to put their all in everything that they do. It’s really a quality to be proud of,” you say to him honestly. “I think you’ll do well wherever you end up. So don’t worry too much, okay?”
The boy stares at you like no one’s ever said that to him, and no one has; even if this might be a passing comment for you, it’s something that he feels relief to finally hear.
“Thanks.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it, but you can hear the gratefulness in his voice nevertheless. You both look away for a few seconds when a brilliant yellow bird flutters past the two of you, settling on the ground in front to peck at a white speck in the soil. “Pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, blinking at the animal.
And with that, Jaehyun shakes his head a bit before resuming back to his relaxed demeanor. He lets out a breath of air and runs his tongue over his teeth.
“Sorry for getting so deep all of a sudden,” he apologies, sheepishly rubbing his neck as you let out a little laugh.
“No, it’s nice to hear that the Valentine Boy has troubles too,” you tease lightly, recalling the God-like aura he used to carry 24/7 when you were younger and the nick-name that followed him around as a result. Jaehyun visibly cringes at your words, no doubt getting high school flashbacks.
“Not that,” he replies, embarrassed. “Anyway, I feel like I haven’t gotten the chance yet to ask you how you’ve been these past few years.” You glance up at him in surprise. He sounds strangely sincere for someone you weren’t that close with out of your brother’s friends, and the confusion must show on your face because he finds it in himself to clarify. “Oh come on, Y/N. I feel like we’ve known each other since forever but I’ve missed a crucial part of your growing up. You’re like a whole different person now.”
“I’d hope so,” you lament, fiddling with your camcorder. “I’ve gone through too much shit to be the same as sixteen-year old me.” Jaehyun laughs out loud at your answer, knowing exactly how you feel as someone who was once a fresh, high school graduate.
“Yeah? Well it seems like just yesterday when you were complaining about being bored after school from not having enough homework—” he stumbles over his words when you push his body with a light shove, the boy barely able to get breaths in with how much he’s laughing at your past cluelessness of how hard high school would really be.
“None of you guys warned me about the horror of calculus, so that is not my fault Jaehyun,” you pout, shaking your head at him.
“So it’s my fault?” he smiles, questioning your statement.
“Yes.” A lie.
“And I’m the reason why you almost failed second semester math?”
“Yes.” Another lie. Wait. “What— how do you even know about that?” You demand, incredulous. Jaehyun just raises his eyebrows and hides his growing grin behind his hand. “Fucking Lee Taeyong.”
He looks overjoyed at your seething, playfully poking out his bottom lip in a mock-frown before getting up and dusting off his pants. Offering a hand to you, Jaehyun uses his strength to pull you to your feet; you’re hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm as your hands linger for a millisecond before he pulls away.
I’m so screwed, you think to yourself, blinking at the sky with fervor. Shaking your head, you tuck your hand to your side and try not to think of his skin on yours.
“They’re finally done flirting,” he notes with a hum, making an acute observation as you both spy the three other boys heading back to the car, their reluctant forms obvious when you see one girl hold up her hands in a ‘call me’ sign.
Smirking, you skip ahead of Jaehyun before turning back and waving your wallet at him.
“25000 won that we’ll see one of those girls walk out of Tae’s room tomorrow morning,” you chant as Jaehyun jogs to catch up with you. Chuckling, he pushes your wallet away.
“Nah, that man doesn’t give a fuck about the time of day. 25000 that she’s gonna be at your house in twenty,” he counters, snorting when you gag at the thought.
You can’t help but light up at his content face; this feels like this is the first time you’ve ever had a real, honest to goodness, conversation with him as a young adult.
And you’re in trouble, because you think you like it more than you should.
…
“I did it,” Chaewon confesses over the phone, the sound of a knife against a chopping board from her end revealing her current position.
“What,” you inquire, “you finally passed your license test?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Never.” You flash a wicked grin at the sheet music in your hands, shuffling through the never-ending leaflets.
When Taeyong had said he’d pay you to organize his papers, you clearly weren’t thinking straight enough to be saying yes to this hell. He’s been out for an hour already and not even a third of the pile is sorted through. You slump forward on the couch and shake out your tired hands, groaning when your knuckle hits the coffee table with a painful thump.
“For your information, I don’t need to drive. Hot girls take public transportation,” she retorts with a humph.
“Can’t argue with you there, passenger princess.”
“Oh please, I can literally feel the sarcasm dripping from your voice.”
You laugh, a “you know me, Chae” accompanying the sound ringing out through your empty house. Gathering Taeyong’s work into your arms and dumping the rest on the table, you slide onto the carpeted ground with a sigh. Your bones are overly sore from sitting for too long and the couches seams have made painful, little white imprints on your thighs. With a click of your tongue, you inwardly curse your brother for offering such good deals to a minimum wage paid, about-to-be uni kid, or else you wouldn't be spending a perfectly good Saturday afternoon on whatever this is.
“So,” you prompt, “what did you do this time.”
“Ha,” Chaewon starts.
“I’m scared.”
“Ran into Jaehyun today.”
“Aaand that’s my cue to hang up now,” you sing, slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, the warm device tucked neatly in the crevice of your neck before you hear the sound of your doorbell ringing out.
“Wait—”
“Hold on for a sec, Chae. Someone’s at the door.”
You will yourself to get up from the carpet before making your way over to the front of the house, preparing yourself for a blast of hot summer air to hit you. The silver knob twists under your hand as you swing the door open slowly, expecting the mailman or a delivery on your front porch. Certainly not—
“—Hey.”
Your eyes flick up in surprise.
“Oh shit,” Chaewon whispers over the phone. “That’s not who I think it is, right?”
It’s been a week since you last saw Jaehyun face to face, and your conflicted inner thoughts have been battling in your conscience for the entirety of it. Well, this isn’t great.
“Hi Jaehyun,” you manage to sound out, mentally chastising yourself for sounding so nervous.
“And that’s my cue to hang up now,” the voice at the other end of your call snickers, the long beep of it ending blaring into your ear.
Your arm drops to your side, phone in hand, as you stare pointedly at Chaewon’s contact info lighting up the screen, her eyes mocking you through her profile picture. Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow as he looks between your phone and your face, seemingly questioning if you’re currently busy through his eyes alone.
“Umm…” your gaze flits around in flusteration, looking just about anywhere but him. “Taeyong’s not home right now, if that’s why you’re here.”
“Oh? Do you know when he’ll be back?” he asks, relaxed as he leans his body against the doorframe.
“He’s picking up stuff from Johnny’s across town, so like,” you glance up at the clock, “an hour? I could uh… call you when he gets back if you want.”
Jaehyun simply pokes his tongue into his cheek in contemplation before tucking his hands into his pockets.
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just stay.” With a small smile, he adds on, “if you're okay with that, of course.”
You peer past him to see his shiny black Mustang sitting in front of your house, before returning to your original position and shrugging at the foyer. Losing your shyness momentarily as you let out a puff of air, you follow Jaehyun in before deciding to answer.
“My company is a blessing in itself, isn’t it,” you think out loud, displaying a cheeky smile when Jaehyun turns around to playfully scoff at you.
“Now that’s a sure thing, Y/N.”
The boy seats himself on one of the kitchen barstools and places his chin in his hand, leaning over the counter to stare at you as you busy yourself with the fridge.
In all honesty, you weren’t prepared to see him again. He’s already been occupying your mind a little too much for your liking during this past week, the idea of his return to your life teetering you on the edge of insanity. You didn’t know high school crushes hit that hard two years later, and it certainly doesn’t help that his golden skin and constellation of tawny freckles have made an almost daily appearance in the Lee household — just like the old times.
“I think we still have that special glass-bottled lemonade from the farmer’s market last weekend, unless,” you pause, sifting through the multitude of items in the ice box. “Yup. Nevermind. Taeyong finished all of them.”
Jaehyun snorts, already familiar with his best friend’s midnight tendencies of clearing out the fridge whenever, wherever.
“We also have water? And um… milk. And Vodka.”
“This sounds like Yuta’s fridge, and that thought alone is like, genuinely terrifying,” Jaehyun observes from behind you. You shake your head, recalling the first time you saw the said boy’s freezer stash of condiments and liquor at a house party a few years ago. Only condiments and liquor.
“Oh! And cold noodles,” you hold up the container with a little shake. “I remember you liking my mom’s version of them,” you mumble quietly, willing yourself to turn around when the cold air from the fridge starts to sting your eyes.
Jaehyun observes you curiously, a question at the tip of his tongue. You remember?
He stops himself from blurting it out when you seat yourself across from him and push the container towards his direction.
“You practically live here anyway. Help yourself,” you say a bit louder, embarrassed about the fact that you remember such a miniscule detail about him.
You squint at the countertop — which you honestly wish would swallow you whole — as Jaehyun moves around you to pour himself a glass of water. His muscles strain against his loose t-shirt as he moves around your kitchen with familiarity, and you turn away with wide eyes when you realize you’ve spaced out while staring at his back.
It’s a situation that younger you would have never imagined; you had simply never been left in a room with him alone. Your brother and his other friends were always there, a subtle reminder of the distance between you two and the fact that he was probably still worlds away.
But you’re an adult now, and it’d be a lie if you said that you don’t want Jaehyun to notice you in that way.
Feelings are too complicated to think about sober. You grimace to yourself, pressing two fingers against your temple as you lean your cheek against the cool, hard marble of the countertop.
“Y/N?” you lift your head up at your name, flinching back in surprise when Jaehyun’s face appears at the edge of your vision, his figure buzzing with excitement as he gapes at you. “This is yours, right?”
Your eyes drift to the black canisters in his palm. My film.
“Oh yeah— wait. I forgot to develop those ones,” you make your way over and take the undeveloped film rolls into your hands, the boy observing you with wide eyes.
“That’s sick. Do you develop them yourself?”
“Hm? Nah, I bring them to the camera store downtown. Left them in the fridge to preserve for a while so they should be good to go now.”
It’s only when you look up from the canisters that you spy his expression, the pure giddiness painted on his features catching you off guard. Jaehyun’s body language tells you that he is unnervingly thrilled about his new discovery.
“You were never into this kind of stuff when Taeyong and I were still here in high school,” he brings up slowly, letting the words sit on his tongue before following you when you head towards the stairs. “If I had known…” he trails off, pursing his lips to the side so that his notorious dimples show.
You peer at him over your nose bridge curiously. If he had known, he would've what?
Jaehyun pokes his tongue into his cheek and furrows his brows, thinking about the times when he was over at your house after school and you would be nowhere to be seen. Is the dark room where you were, or were you out taking pictures at the rink and shooting short films with your friends? Maybe at the park with your old camcorder and skateboard? The fact that he never knew about so many of your hobbies is almost troubling considering how long he’s known you, and it makes him shift in place. He supposes he never really took the time to know his best friend’s little sister, but looking at you as you stare back, you’re so much more than that.
Had you always shared so much in common?
“Well, imma go upstairs and watch a movie,” you resume your climb before pointing upward. “You can come up until Tae comes home, if you want?”
The boy glances at the door momentarily, contemplating how Taeyong would react if he found him in his sister’s room. Would he kill me? Maybe.
He shrugs. Fuck it, I could totally beat him in a fight, Jaehyun reasons, smiling to himself. He doesn’t know how he reached that conclusion, but he thinks he’s joking. Mostly.
“The real question is, what’re we watching? If it’s some romcom shit I’m leaving,” Jaehyun raises a challenging brow with his smirk as he follows you nonetheless, hand following yours dangerously close on the wooden handrail.
“Not my problem you’ve got no taste.”
“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes, pushing his body into view as you push open your bedroom door, “I might actually die if I see DiCaprio’s face one more time, and you can’t tell me it’s not you that has all of his movies in the living room cabinet, ‘cause they’re definitely not your brother’s.”
“That seems a bit of a personal issue between you and him, Jaehyun,” you let out a laugh with your words. Turning around to flick on the light switch, you’re met with his face closer than it was before. “What.”
“What?” he repeats, almost mockingly. “Oh, sweetheart. You think this face isn’t DiCaprio level?”
Your face heats up without your consent, flustered at the sudden proximity and the fact that you most definitely think Jaehyun’s better than all of your favorite actors combined. You would never admit that to him for the life of you, though.
You swallow before pushing him lightly, making your way into the center of your bedroom.
“Admit it,” he sings, not giving up as he relentlessly parks himself in front of you with his legs set further apart so that he can look at you at eye level. “I bet even Ji Chang-wook’s got nothing on me.”
“Woah woah woah,” you gasp in offense, throwing a hand up to your chest. “Now that’s crossing the line, buddy. Ji Chang-wook’s got something on everybody.”
“I bet,” Jaehyun drawls out sarcastically, eyes flipping to the ceiling ludicrously slow. He seems to glitch for a few seconds, mouth open but no words coming out. “Especially with the way his face is plastered… on… your ceiling? You fall asleep to that?”
Your eyes widen when you have the sudden realization that Jeong Jaehyun is in your room, in your personal space, looking at your things. And that most certainly includes the poster of Ji Chang-wook next to the plastic stars above your bed, glassy, plastic-y eyes staring down at your ruffley bed sheets and everything. In your defense, it was the result of a lost dare — but he doesn’t know that. Wow, you think to yourself, regretting all of your life decisions, I’m just so good at first impressions.
“Yes,” you give up somewhat dejectedly, offering him a (hopefully) confident smile before pulling a projector from under your bed and setting it up on your bedside table.
Jaehyun just shrugs and seats himself on your bed, muttering a little “cute” that you miss before observing as you give the machine a few good slaps so it’ll turn on. Settling against the wall, he lets his eyes flutter over your decor and multitude of things plastered across every inch of your space. If anything, the way your room’s changed since the last time he was in it gives him an outlook into your life that he wouldn't have known otherwise.
From the blockbuster movie ads on your door to the unfiltered sunlight reflecting off your mirror, the shoelaces tied around your closet door to the origami threaded around your ceiling fan, he feels like he’s falling. Maybe, just maybe, he even finds a bit of himself in the painted shoe boxes shoved under your desk and your circular record shelf. Even the stars he and Taeyong stuck on years ago are still there too. He recognizes bits and pieces here and there, but thrown together in one place, a cohesive picture forms in front of him. It’s suffocating — in a good way — as if he’s been thrown into the unknown and is hit with a new side of you at full force; everything, everywhere, all at once.
“Ha!” you exclaim, holding out a fist for Jaehyun to bump when your projector flickers on. With a bright grin, you flop onto the bed beside him and wait for the whirring of the projector to start with a hollow click.
The beginning few seconds of the film you’ve chosen roll onto your makeshift movie screen, a white sheet hanging by its threads from your vanity, as the bright images light up your figures with a burning white.
Jaehyun figures out what you’ve done just as a familiar face blurs into view, the moving calligraphy of The Great Gatsby scrawled across your bedroom wall while you poke out your tongue at him, high off of the mere fact that you’ve gotten your way. You hear him let out a defeated sigh from beside you, his knee hitting yours as he settles into your comforter nevertheless.
“Sharp as hell, aren’t you. I should’ve known DiCaprio would show up in my sight sooner or later.”
…
Summer tastes like melted sugar crystals in cherry garcia — or rather, summer tastes like Mark Lee’s Strawberry-Rouge Extravaganza, the latest, state-of-the-art item on his Record Shop menu. When you ask why the random French is thrown in there, he defends himself adamantly, claiming that his three years of secondary French language classes have practically made him a local.
“It’s like a metaphor for saying, ‘I love you,’” Mark claims with sass, even though you don’t make the connection (“That’s not what a metaphor is…?” you mumble quizzically under your breath). He ignores the weird look you throw at him and goes back to his mixing on the counter of the cashier station. “And it feels like a warm hug, because what better to express that than sparkly, drunk goodness.”
“Wow,” Chaewon deadpans, not even looking up from her nails that she’s painting right next to him. The mix of nail polish and liquor makes you scrunch your nose as you organize the main display, a rotating shelf that headlines Blondie. “You should be a poet. You have such a way with words.”
“I don’t need your negativity in my life, girly.” You almost choke on air when you hear a sharp snap of Chae’s gum in retaliation, her icy glare making Mark wilt under her gaze.
Their intense, non-verbal argument is saved by the dinging of a customer opening the door to the shop. You whip around to greet them only for your words to die right in your throat. Two silhouettes step in, their tall stature and familiar features blocking the sun from shining through the entranceway.
“…Jaehyun, Jungwoo! How are you guys?” Mark offers when he sees you fall silent.
The two greet happily right back, sliding past you to pat him on the back and exchange handshakes. Jaehyun lingers by your side for a little, holding his fist out for you to tap like you did just the other day in your room.
“We knew we’d find you guys in here,” Jungwoo laments, looking around the shelves before his eyes land on Mark’s… setup. You have to admit, this one looks a bit more pleasant than his past drink recipes, and you can tell that Jungwoo agrees wholeheartedly. His hand lingers on a bottle of sparkling vanilla wine as Mark slices red fruit ardently with a plastic, cafeteria knife. A paper cup holds the rest of his special ingredients: rock candy on wooden sticks, shattered candy hearts, and star-shaped ice cubes. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it looked delicious, like something you would order at a beach-side bar.
Jungwoo seems to find the situation amusing, a trio of barely-adults passing slow, withering days in their own little makeshift paradise. Leaning against the countertop like he’s on the cover of Parisian Vogue, he nicks his baseball cap up a bit higher to look into the three of yours’ eyes better.
“Johnny’s throwing a party.”
That’s all anyone needs to say before Chaewon’s attention is snagged, her eyes gaining an undeniable gleam.
“We’re going,” she speaks for everyone in the room, especially looking you square in the eyes as if saying, you’re not escaping this time, young lady.
“Mhm,” Jaehyun confirms, a hand rubbing at his pulse as he swings an arm over Jungwoo’s shoulders. “A fancy mixer, kinda, the day after tomorrow. We’ll have all the booze, so the only thing you need to bring is yourself.”
“And,” the latter chimes in, “it’s at Johnny’s countryside estate, so y’all can do whatever illegal shit you kids get yourself into without worrying about anything.”
Chaewon lets out a small scoff at his words, mumbling a “we still do here it anyway” under her breath and throwing a knowing look at the alcohol in front of Mark that’s very blatantly in every passerby’s sight.
As Jungwoo relays more information about the plans to them at the front of the shop, Jaehyun turns to follow your path as you diligently place records back in their places in the depths of the store.
“Do you wear silver or gold?”
You jump at his appearance out of nowhere, glancing at him with a certain hesitation at his question. Your confusion as to how this topic appeared so suddenly is painted blatantly across your face as you close the last turntable with a click.
“Why?” You pause. “But both. Depends on my mood.”
“Because this is yours now.”
He reaches into his jeans’ front pocket, pulling out something in his fist before reaching for your hand and dropping a small, plastic ring in the middle of it.
It’s neon orange and ugly as hell, like something you would find stuck to gum on the underbelly of a school desk. But hey, who are you to complain when Jaehyun looks so pleased at himself as he looks between your face and the ring, trying to gauge your reaction to his surprise gift. And, you’re definitely not complaining when it’s a gift from Jaehyun himself.
“Thank you…? Also,” you squint, picking up the ring to slide onto your pointer finger, “this isn’t silver or gold.” He shrugs half heartedly.
“Sucks to suck.”
You kick the tip of his Converse as he laughs with his whole body, the boy’s deep voice filling the small space.
“It’s from the coin toy machine outside,” he explains. With a broad grin, he pulls his other hand from out of his pocket and waves it in your face. The whole rainbow has found its home on his fingers, all silly swirls and squiggles of nylon with glued on googly-eyes half falling off.
It’s the pure childish elation you share which makes you unknowingly sink deeper and deeper into the ocean that is Jeong Jaehyun, and you would have felt the metaphorical gasps of air your lungs so desperately need if not for the momentary distractions he provides.
You suppose all of this is your own doing anyway.
…
It feels as though Autumn has made a reverse pit-stop in the middle of summer.
If not obvious by the way the seasonal trees are drooping with a sudden dewy chill, it’s the sudden absence of people in general that serves as a telltale sign. There’s almost no cars on the road, fewer students out and about, and less frequent public transportation.
The last one in particular really speaks to Jaehyun.
Scrunching his nose at the crisp air, he exits the hole-in-the-wall café he usually frequents when he’s bored, the biting coldness of a mid-August day unfamiliar to him. The boy spent almost the entire day inside; switching between staring at the weather app on his computer and deleting emails from his overflowing inbox for two hours wasn’t the way he thought he’d spend the afternoon, but alas, waiting that long at the crumbling bus stop wasn’t ideal either. He much prefers being warm, caffeinated, and pretending to read a scientific journal than freezing his ass off on a metal bench.
Anyone would think the same, Jaehyun shrugs to himself… at least until he starts nearing said bench.
Jaehyun stops mid-step when he spots something strange, side-eyeing the undeniably familiar blob crouching at the bus stop approaching on the right.
Why? Well, it's swathed in an oversized hoodie, has a keychain-ful backpack hanging low on its shoulders, and is suspiciously Y/N-shaped.
And if that doesn’t tell him anything, well, the way your eyes go comically wide when you turn to the right and coincidentally meet gazes with Jeong Jaehyun of all people definitely does. It’s the way he’s standing there like a runway model with his hood over his head, dimples on full show as he raises his eyebrows at you and his expensive-looking leather bag hanging off of one shoulder that almost causes you to fall over. Luckily, you pull yourself together before something embarrassing happens, like losing your balance and crashing into the road (not that it’s happened before, of course…). You’re well aware that you tend to get distracted easily, and you’re definitely in trouble because that man is one hell of a distraction.
Getting up quickly and dusting the invisible dust off your legs, you offer him an embarrassed wave as he approaches you.
“How long have you been sitting there? It’s fucking cold outside,” Jaehyun calls out, concerned, glancing down at your skirt and the way you hide your hands in your hoodie sleeves. Sidling up next to you, he bounces on the balls of his feet a little before stuffing his own hands in his pockets.
“It’s okay,” you smile down at the way your shoes match next to his on the sidewalk, “I’m used to the bipolar weather. Plus, it’s not that cold when you’ve got these!” Tucking your lip between your teeth, you rustle around in your sweater-paws before popping out your hands proudly in front of you. Nestled in your palms are old hand warmers, their heat fading but worth their purpose nonetheless.
“Only you would have hand warmers in stock during the middle of summer, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief, but the smile threatening to take over his face makes his eyes crinkle up in amusement.
“Mhm,” you say, distracted as you see the bus pull up to the sidewalk from down the road, “I’ve got a whole box in my backpack. Who knows, maybe an ice storm will hit one day and I’ll be the only one with hands while everyone else’s freeze off.”
He pauses in place, speechless at your comment. You simply shrug at him, as if saying that’s the way life goes, before nodding to the bus driver and climbing up the vehicle’s steps. “Don’t worry, I’d share mine with you.”
Jaehyun lets out a breath in disbelief.
Your attitude is truly refreshing, and he can’t even begin to describe what a breath of clean air it is to talk to you everyday; he’s used to girls coming up to him with hidden intent, their eyes tinged with lust as they disguise their interest with false pretenses and flowery words. Flattery is what it began with, but after years of receiving nothing from their end while he found himself aimlessly hoping for someone genuine and it was disappointing that he couldn’t find even one. He’d wish they would just treat him normally and act like themselves, a person not afraid to be genuine with him and let their inner child show.
It’s as he observes the way you hum as you climb up and give a playful salute to the driver that he realizes you’re the perfect balance of both, the maturity in you shining admirably at the times when it is needed while never acting like something you’re not.
Jaehyun blinks at your figure before tugging on your arm to move around you, swiping his bus pass twice before you can even register what’s happened. He lets a smug grin take over his face before pulling you to the back of the bus and plopping down beside you.
“Thank you for paying for me,” you tilt your head at him, tucking your card back into your pocket. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to, though.”
You give him a grateful smile before remembering something that you had meant to show him, pulling out the walkman you found in your grandmother’s cellar yesterday from your backpack, a dusty old thing that still works perfectly fine. Looping its built-in headphones around your neck, you tilt the player towards him before offering him the small device. Turning it around in his hands, he gapes in undeniable awe as he taps the plastic cover with intrigue.
You knew he’d like it.
“I haven’t seen one of these in so long. Whose grave did you raid to get this, the hell?”
“Found it yesterday in my grandparent's cellar, and before Taeyong got his hands on it. I thought that you’d find it interesting so I was planning on showing you later this week, but hey, look who I happened to run into today.”
He simply shakes his head before bringing the machine up to his eyes and popping open its cover, a finger coming up to trace the dust out of the inside of it.
“Do you have a cassette to put in it or…?” he begins, looking up at you. You shake your head. “We can go to the vintage shop downtown later to get you some, if you want.”
“Really? You’ll go with me?”
“Yeah, Y/N. You’ve always got the coolest things to play around with, and we can go shove this in Yong’s face too. He’s gonna be so jealous.”
“You just wanna annoy my brother,” you snort, nudging his arm.
“You’ve got me there.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender before poking his tongue inside his cheek, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Or… I could make you a personalized mixtape?” Your jaw drops comically, no words coming out of your mouth as you just stare at him.
“Are you being serious right now?”
“So, so serious.”
“If you did, I would actually lose my mind,” you finally close your mouth in amazement. “You’d probably be my favorite person ever.”
“Well, then that would be well worth it. I’ll work on it when I’m back in the studio at uni,” Jaehyun smiles genuinely, handing you your walkman back before swinging his leather bag back onto his shoulder as the bus pulls to a halt. With a parting pat on your shoulder, he mouths a goodbye before descending the aisle.
“This is my stop. See you at the party, Y/N.”
…
When you had received the call on a quiet Saturday afternoon from Mark that he and Chaewon would be leaving earlier to help set up for Johnny’s weekend party — the one that Jungwoo and Jaehyun had only told you about just a few days prior — the possibility of not having a ride to bring you hadn’t even struck yet. You were too busy thanking your friends that they had granted you two more hours for an afternoon nap, and an extra 60 minutes to get ready; a truly ideal day in your opinion.
It’s only when you’ve given yourself a final look in the mirror, admiring the new dress that you’ve donned at the last minute, do you hear the undeniable honk of a car outside. Brushing aside the curtains and trying to get your eyes to focus in the dark, you make a noise of panic when you spy Jaehyun’s car outside your house.
What’s he doing here?
You'd spent far more time with Jaehyun in the past few days than you have in your entire lifetime, running small errands with him when Taeyong's not there and browsing through retro stores in nearby towns for old cassettes. With every hour more spent together, it felt like you were getting closer to knowing his feelings, and that in itself excited you to no end. He'd end every drive together with a knowing look and some sort of physical touch, and each goodbye left you in anticipation for the next time you'd see him.
Sprinting down the stairs and grabbing your shoes as fast as you can, you rush out into the street where the Mustang’s tinted windows prevent any passerby from making out any faces from the outside.
As you approach the driver’s side, the window rolls down to reveal the owner of the car.
“Hey,” Jaehyun grins at you, his pupils dilated and the faint smell of smoke lingering on his breath.
It feels like forever since you’ve seen him, even if it’s only been a few hours since you last saw each other. You can feel your head fog up when you fully take in his appearance; with his hair slicked back and his button-up undone to reveal sharp collarbones and a dangling, silver cross, he looks godly as the moonlight basks him in a paper-white glow.
“Chaewon and Mark had to stay later to help set up more and Taeyong’s been pregaming since six, so he sent me to pick you up. You can get in the back.”
You hum in understanding before climbing into the backseat, tucking your hands under your thighs before looking up at the front of the car.
Your heart drops.
“Hi,” the girl in the shotgun seat lilts, her bleached hair falling into wavy ringlets against Jaehyun’s leather seats. “Y/N, right? I remember you! You’re Yongie’s baby sis.”
You itch to fill the silence that follows, even though you assume she would have no trouble clearing it with her well-known, extroverted dynamic. There’s an unnamed tension in the car between the two people in the front seat, and it’s so intense that you could cut it with a knife.
You take shallow breaths, not sure what to make of your position. I’m sitting in a car with my crush and his former situationship— holy. How did we get to this point? She’s literally—
“—Lim Sae-mi,” you attempt to give her a genuine smile, flashing your teeth in what you pray isn’t an awkward expression.
Saemi simply twinkles in the rear view mirror, her delicately painted lips stretching up before she twists around to observe you.
“You do remember me! Look at how pretty you are too,” she exclaims, reaching back to pat down a strand of your hair, her voice laced with sticky sweetness. “You could be a model, just like Yongie. And your hair is so healthy, I’m jealous. Isn’t her hair so so nice, Jae?”
Jaehyun snaps to attention at the mention of his name, seeming to be in some sort of haze with the way he looks like he’s holding his breath for as long as humanly possible.
“Yeah.” You find yourself wilting in the slightest at his monotone voice. Looking out the window as he starts driving towards the outskirts of town, you try not to let yourself be too disappointed at the way he loses such distinctive qualities when around the girl sitting next to him.
Jaehyun freezes up when Saemi turns to him all doe-eyed, flashbacks flitting through his mind of the days when he’d anticipate the moments he’d see her again when they were younger. Strangely enough, the effect that she used to have on him — palpitating heart, nervous ticks, rosy cheeks, uncanny attraction — seems to have dissipated. Now, highschool-Jaehyun seems so far away, and their memories even further.
What’s changed?
“Um,” you start as you watch suburban lights zoom by less and less frequently, your brain working just as fast to eliminate some of the weird, awkward tension happening in the car. You don’t really know enough to make conclusions, but something must have happened in the past for them to react to each other like this. “How’s SNU? Do you guys run into each other often on campus?”
Jaehyun chuckles lowly, a tinge of uncertainty lining his tone as he waits for Saemi to answer your question.
“Right, you’re going to uni next year right? Hmm… we don’t really see each other on campus at all, now that I think about it,” she simpers, frowning at the road in front of her before brightening up in less than a second. “But that's because Jae’s so busy, preparing to be a future doctor and all. He was always the smartest one out of all of us.”
You watch as he falls silent, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as his jaw clenches ever so slightly.
“Hey, we should catch up sometime Jae,” she adds on with a tone like she doesn’t really mean it before turning her gaze to him, tacking on a noise of agreement with herself as if she's already decided that they will.
She knows they won’t.
You watch their eyes meet briefly before Jaehyun breaks it to turn the steering wheel left onto a never-ending stretch of a lone, empty road.
Saemi’s a hard person to figure out. You know that she’s charming when she wants to be and firm when she needs to be, but you also know from Taeyong that she has a personality she can flip on and off like a switch; it’s almost as if mind games with the people around her are amusing, and it’s up to the other person to figure out what her true intentions are. It’s understandable why so many people find her alluring.
Glancing up at the back of her head once more, you observe as she leans back with a faint frown before swallowing something in her hand that looks like a bottled shot. She looks uncomfortable as she shifts in her seat every few minutes, and you’re not sure if she’s more put off by the alcohol or by Jaehyun. Your guess would be the latter, even if her voice makes it seem like she’s the most confident person in the world.
You don’t even attempt to start another conversation, instead opting to roll down the window so that you can watch empty land flash by, an occasional plant breaking the smooth ground. The car picks up speed on its own with no other vehicle in sight, the only light coming from the rising crescent moon and a solo gas station situated further down the road.
The three of you perk up as you approach the oil refill and the only other car at the station, a big pick-up with dressed-up figures leaning out of its windows and sitting around the back cargo bed. You assume they’re heading to the same place you are with the way they all shout at each other as they pass a dark bottle back and forth. A boy gets out of the driver’s seat to walk over to Jaehyun’s car and lean through Saemi’s side of the window, shades pushed up into his hair and beads and cuban links dangling out of his shirt. You don’t recognize him, but you’re not surprised when Johnny knows just about every young person in the world.
“Jaehyun, man! And Saemi, damn, I haven’t seen you guys in a while. Headed to Johnny’s?” he exclaims with a loud voice and wide smile, reaching in to pat a long-lost friend on the shoulder. Just like that, the extroverted Jaehyun and Saemi are back, conversing with him as if their awkward energy and off demeanors didn’t just dictate the ride over.
The guy notices you in the back when your eyes meet accidentally, both of you taken aback.
“And who might this be?” He smirks at you, gaze never leaving yours as he directs the question to the other two in the car. You smile back just to be friendly, but with the way he’s staring at you, you’re not sure if that’s the right way to go about things.
“Lee Taeyong’s sister,” Jaehyun speaks up, glimpsing back at you with an unreadable look. A look of recognition flashes over the stranger’s face as his mouth opens in surprise.
“So this is the sister. Shit, is that why I’ve never seen her around?”
“Yeah.” There’s a bitter undertone to his voice, expression faltering before he raises his eyebrows with a smile. “And that’s why she’s off limits, man. I know that look all too well.”
You look at your brother’s friend in question, leaning forward, but Jaehyun doesn’t even glance at you. Both of you know that Taeyong isn’t really the overly protective type, so why would he say that? Maybe he knows that this guy is bad news, so he’s warning me. You nod to yourself, satisfied with your quick thinking. That sounds about right.
You’re about to offer a comment yourself, but you’re stopped by a—
“Lim Saemi! No fucking way, is that really you?” another shrill voice calls from across the expanse of the gas station, a former classmate stalking across the black cement in teetering heels as she waves dramatically at the girl in front of you. “It is you! I can’t believe we ran into you like this, you gotta join the party truck now!”
Saemi seems to recognize her, waving dramatically out the window to her friend. In a matter of seconds, the girl has pulled her out of Jaehyun’s car as she laughs at her friend’s antics of tugging on her wrist to string her along, drunk. Saemi throws you and Jaehyun a look that seems to say everything and nothing at the same time; if you were to interpret it in your own language, it would spell out: So sorry I’m ditching you guys! I love both of you to pieces but I’d honestly rather drink bleach than get back in that car. Hope you understand. Muah.
And with that, you watch Saemi switch cars in a matter of moments. The boy follows them back to their chaotic ride to Johnny’s after waving goodbye at Jaehyun, who’s watching them without any emotion bleeding through his stoic face. You can’t even begin to guess what's going through his mind as his eyes flick back to his dashboard, spaced out.
You pause.
“...and then there were two.”
Biting your bottom lip when you realize you mumbled that out loud, and you’ve genuinely never wanted to be six feet under more because the man hasn’t even said a word since she left you two.
Jaehyun freezes at your voice, almost as if he forgot you were in the car. Letting out an airy laugh after a moment, your shoulders relax when you sense that his weird, Saemi-caused demeanor has faded with her sudden absence.
“Wanna move to the front? It’s lonely up here.” You perk up at his belated response, excitedly getting out of the back to slide into the shotgun seat at his invitation. The man next to you seems to visibly relax, stomach releasing and shoulders drooping with less tension as he starts the car and turns back onto the stretch of empty road.
The silence doesn’t bother you this time when Saemi’s absent; it’s pleasant and full, as if both of you needed this momentary break from nonstop life to collect yourself. Staring at the dust picking up along the wheels while the needle on the speedometer rises up and up, you find the scene before you therapeutic in unexplainable ways.
Jaehyun feels the same, his eyes spacey as one hand rests languidly on the steering wheel with ingrained muscle memory. The vehicle coasts past blank acres and rolling hills, the burning moon engaging in hide-and-seek as it appears and disappears behind their peaks. He doesn’t even feel the need to turn up the stereo as he usually does when your audible, light breaths are sufficient enough. It’s comforting in ways he didn’t know he needed.
You recognize how close you are to Johnny’s estate when you see the road before you thin into dirt and pebbles, a grandiose silver gate barely visible in the far distance. Behind the gate is the unmistakable gleam of polished stone, no doubt the road that leads up to the party and an onslaught of cars. If you concentrate hard enough, your mind can even conjure up the deep bass of the music that the host prefers at his mixers, their heavy resonance flowing through the thick soil to the bottom of Jaehyun’s car and all the way up to the soles of your feet.
You’re just about to point your strange observance out when Jaehyun makes a sudden swerve, pulling off to an edge of mangled weeds and tree roots, the car rolling to a shuttering stop just before a barren field of dead plants. Your body lurches forward a bit with the movement, the boy apologizing profusely when he sees you adjust your seatbelt with confusion written all over your expression.
“Fuck, sorry sorry sorry,” he mumbles, moving his hand in front of you as if you could fall out of your seat at any minute. “I just… the stars are stunning right now, we gotta stop for a sec. You don’t mind if we…”
He trails off, distracted, as he pulls the car door open hastily, rushing out to take in the night sky in its full glory. It’s as if he doesn’t move fast enough, the stars will pull a disappearing stunt on him.
It’s endearing to see Jaehyun like this, a smile subconsciously finding its way onto your face when you spot him bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly. His eyes are completely enamored with the sight above him, neck craned up at an odd angle to see everything; from the way his fingers dig into his palms in excitement to the cold flush on his cheeks from the biting evening chill, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself when encountering such a beautiful product of mother nature.
The thought of Johnny’s party evaporates from both of your minds as you find yourself mirroring Jaehyun’s position.
After a few minutes of stillness, he looks at you with the very stars from the sky in his eyes.
“Can we stay here for a bit?”
He beams at your “of course” before hoisting himself onto the cool hood of his Mustang and offering a hand out for you to grab. Pulling you up onto the spot beside him with a huff, he pulls your wrist to shift your body closer to his before smiling contently to himself.
You try not to let your mind spiral at his warm touch, instead focusing your attention on the blanket of constellations that greet you from the inky stretch of night sky. The cold metal of the hood cools your burning skin as your legs stretch out in front of you, skin ghastly as your arms support your weight from behind you.
When he hears your faint intake of breath, Jaehyun allows his eyes to leave the pretty view above him to the pretty view beside him for a few seconds, letting them linger on your side profile as you stare up in awe. They fall from the slope of your nose to the open curve of your lips, circling around your neck and raking over the ornate gems decorating your skin. You’re breathtaking in 1001 ways, and it’s such a pressing realization that he blinks away in shock when your gaze suddenly meets his.
“Do you do this often?”
“When I need to get away for a bit. All of my best ideas come to me at night, I think. There’s just something about darkness and non-artificial light which is curiously inspiring.”
You nod, leaning back on the windshield and resting your head against its glass. Nighttime lets you think in the abstract, where the shadows don’t take shape and remind you to think in a direct and methodical way.
“I get that,” you empathize. “After Taeyong left, I used to climb onto my roof after dark and just sit there alone for hours. I wouldn’t know how much time had passed until I got back into my room, and to be honest, that was my favorite time of the day. It took my mind off things, even if it was only for a few hours.”
“You know, Yong and I used to do that when we were younger. You were too little to remember I think, but we’d go up after your parents fell asleep and throw basketballs down the side of your house to see how far they would bounce up… we probably hit your window too a few times. Only a few.”
“That was you?” you jut, incredulous.
“Oh, so she does remember,” Jaehyun laughs under his breath, playfully avoiding eye contact when you scoff at your brother and his' antics. “Anyway, I wanna go up there again someday.”
“Our roof? I’ll bring you.”
Jaehyun turns to face you.
“Promise? I’m counting on it, Lee.”
You don’t hide your bashful smile this time, looking away when the boy flashes his dimples at you. Your insides flood with warmth as you secretly bring the back of your hand up to feel your cheek, scared of its betrayal of your feelings.
Jaehyun sighs, content, after a few moments, his neck lolling at the joint to stargaze once again. He feels entirely relaxed at this moment; there’s nothing that Mother Nature can’t fix.
“History revolved around looking at the stars and just talking, you know? I wish I could stay here forever and never grow up.”
You tilt your head curiously.
“Why, you don’t like being an adult?”
“Not that,” he shakes his head. “It’s more of, I pretend to be collected and mature and all-knowing, but the feeling of having no control over life magnifies as I get older. My head and heart haven’t grown up fast enough to catch up.”
“Jaehyun.”
“Hm?”
“You don’t ever have to pretend. It’s… it’s okay to not know what you’re doing or what the future looks like, and it’s okay to let yourself go at times too. Being an adult doesn’t mean always knowing the right things to do or figuring out every little detail right now,” your words stumble a bit as they spill out, but he seems to catch onto every word perfectly. “I’m scared too, so it’s kinda ironic that I’m giving you this advice when I can’t follow it myself.”
“We can trade words of wisdom,” Jaehyun offers more lightheartedly. “It’s so much easier to give advice to other people than to yourself.” You can’t think of a better way to phrase it than that.
“And I think simply moving forward with what you can muster is the best we can do,” you add on. Jaehyun just stares at you as you talk, chin in his palm as he takes in your advice with sincerity. “Things will just come and go naturally as we go on.”
“You’re right. Time tells, Y/N. And frankly, you’re so much more mature than me.”
“Me?” You frown, surprised at the fact that he thinks you are. “That’s so strange to hear, because I feel like I’ll never be independent in the way that you and Tae are. Even though we’re not that far apart in age, I’ve always thought you guys were from a different galaxy, like fear wasn’t a word in your dictionary and maturity has always just come naturally.”
“It’s all in the way we carry ourselves, but maturity itself doesn’t come from this,” Jaehyun waves his hand around to outline your body in an imaginary circle, “but from this.” You watch as he taps a purposeful finger against your temple. “And you have more of it than anyone my age. You have a mind that people would die for, and I think that’s something to be very proud of.”
The wind whistles soundly as the two of you take in the world with new perspectives, sitting up a little straighter and legs just barely touching as he moves closer without even noticing. You don’t say anything for a while, and you don’t need to. He recognizes how you need a few minutes to let his words soak in, and that’s what makes you so you. Jaehyun knows you won’t just take his words on a whim and forget them ten minutes later; you’re the kind of person that internalizes everything he says with genuine feeling and gratefulness, and that quality is what makes you, in his opinion, celestial.
“You always know just what to say,” you finally whisper, and he almost doesn’t catch it.
You receive no reply except for the most adoring look in his eyes as he smiles fondly at you. The breeze blows wisps of your hair around your face, and Jaehyun can’t help it when he reaches out to tuck a stray strand behind your ear. His fingers linger — longingly, if you dare say — before he makes himself pull away.
You’re scared to let yourself believe that you might have a chance this time; everything floods back and hits your heart at full power, and you think that your newfound connection you’ve found with the boy over this summer has trumped all of your past memories. Your feelings are fragile, and the way he looks at you is terrifying. He makes your heart race violently; your feelings from when you were fifteen don’t even compare.
“It’s too chilly for a summer month,” he speaks up suddenly, rubbing his arms and trying to lighten the mood. You shake your mind out of its storm of complicated emotions before offering a small smile back.
“Always speaking the truth, aren’t you?” You tease, playing with the hem of your short dress. Jaehyun makes a noise of agreement before a boyish grin stretches across his face.
“Yeah, which is why Leonardo DiCaprio is not—”
“—UH,” You stop him mid sentence, shushing him. “Let’s not finish that sentence.”
“—peak acting which is why—”
“La la la lala,” you sing, covering your ears with your hands childishly and squinting so that you don’t have to see Jaehyun raising an eyebrow at you, amused. “I can’t hear youu.”
“I take back the part about you being more mature than me.” Only one boy is capable of making your moods flip like this, and he’s sitting right next to you as your laughs ring out in tandem through the night.
Eventually, after a few more back-and-forths under the dark sky, Jaehyun takes it upon himself to teach you some astronomical terms. You doubt you’ll remember them, but he promises he’ll make it easy for you to hold in your mental library.
“You need to be prepared,” he stresses, “if you’re gonna come with me next time.”
“Next time… stargazing?”
“Yup,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Let’s see… there’s a triangle of importance in my opinion. The true triune, holy grail of astronomy.”
You watch him sink into his element, musing upon the milky way above.
“Stars,” he air-traces the Orion constellation slowly. “Moons,” he continues, moving his arm in front of you to point at the claw of the silver crescent moon. Jaehyun lets his hand fall, the tip of his finger grazing your skin in the slightest as it hovers in front of your heart. “And celestial bodies.”
…
You mentally prepare yourself to get an earful from Chaewon as the drive up to Johnny’s resumes…
…two hours late.
In your defense, it wasn’t completely your fault. Jaehyun says you can blame it on him when she throws her fit at you being late — and boy, do you know she will — but you also know that when you recount what happened to cause your tardiness, she’ll excuse it. Partially. Maybe even throw in a sushi dinner and smoke sesh, then all of your sins would be forgiven in her book.
You try to distract yourself from Jaehyun’s sweet actions just a few minutes earlier by thinking about where you might find Chaewon and Mark when you get there; maybe the drink-stocked kitchen, where Mark will surely be… or outside, where people like Chaewon usually go with their ziploc bags and scratched-up lighters.
Where would Jaehyun go?
You groan inwardly when you catch your brain drifting to the idea of the man next to you once again, said man driving with a dopey expression on his face as Johnny’s estate comes into full view. You can’t tell if it’s because of a well-needed down-time with the stars (and time with you, if you dare to think optimistically) or because it looks like there’s strobe lights flashing out of every window of the ground floor—
“—holy shit, they really went all out,” Jaehyun gapes, hands slacking on the steering wheel as you both take in the scene before you. “Johnny’s fucking insane. Maybe even like, should-be-checked-into-a-facility insane.”
Your eyes widen as the building unfurls itself before you, a mansion so grand that it’s comparable to Gatsby’s in every way. It’s got a certain vintage charm to it, something you assume Johnny’s parents built in homage to their roots with veiny, marbled stairs and towering Roman columns. The chaos that’s happening in and around the home itself, however, is a different story. You can see the drunk bodies already as they move around to invisible music, and waves of people climb spiral staircases up to the upper levels as they fumble drinks around. Silhouettes of the party-goers are littered across the vast, arched windows, stone trims decorating their sills with impeccable detail; the estate is truly a needle that shines brilliantly in a haystack of country homes, the nearest house being a whole 20 minute drive away. You’d been to his countryside home only once with Taeyong when you were younger, but seeing it in all its glory during the nighttime is a whole different experience.
“Nah,” you grin when he puts the car into park behind a train of assorted automobiles that cover the driveway. “He's that special kind of chaebol-insane. I propose not eating the rich, because what would the world be without Johnny Suh.”
Jaehyun simply chuckles lightly before getting out of the car and walking around to your side, opening the door before helping you out. You’d be lying if you said that the butterflies in your stomach didn’t just seize at his actions.
But nothing good lasts forever.
Just as soon as the butterflies come, they die off when you notice the immediate, uncanny switch in Jaehyun’s disposition.
You’re not sure if it’s the deafening bass-boosted music flooding into the air or the multitude of bodies in front of the house alone as the two of you approach the open door, but he seems to be pushed into a different element the closer you get. You recognize it as the one that you’d only heard of in high school, the one who frequented house parties on school nights with your brother, the one who shone in a room full of people, the infamous heartbreaker Jaehyun.
You can see the shift in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate slowly as they gain that undeniable gleam. You can feel his muscles lose a tension you didn’t even know was there, especially when he swings his arm around your shoulders casually, letting his hand rest against your collarbone. You can hear the calls of his wicked name already from both females and males alike, their shouts pulling him away from you as multiple people are drawn to him right away.
You recognize a few of them, hometown names that make their presence known as they clap Jaehyun on the back and reach out for intoxicated hugs. It’s also now that you realize the sheer amount that the boy you practically grew up with — the very one who spent his school day afternoons playing in your living room — changes when with other people. His popularity was never a mystery to you, but seeing it in person like this… he acts like he’s finally at home. A true socialite who flourishes when surrounded by people.
And you would never hold that against anyone, except until—
“Hey, Y/N, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? Promise.”
Ah.
His voice rings out flippant and unfamiliar, arm slipping from your shoulders like deadweight, and his fingers don’t linger on your skin longingly this time. Without looking back, he’s swept away by a myriad of high school friends as they drag him off to only God knows where. They hand him drinks and jostle around with each other between heated bodies, his silver rings glinting under the lights as he throws his head back for a bitter shot.
You watch as their forms retreat into the depths of the party until the shadows swallow him up and your eyes can’t follow him anymore.
Left to hover awkwardly by yourself at the door of Johnny’s house with no drink in hand and a bewildered twist in your expression, suddenly, all the moments that have led up to now feel like a fever dream. Everything just happened so fast. One minute he’s next to you, and you’re sure you’ve fallen again. Hard. And the next moment he’s gone with the wind, like a figment of a dream flickering in and out of consciousness. Sure, you hadn’t expected to spend the whole night with him, but you thought that after your many little talks he would want to stay with you a little longer than three seconds.
At least he promised to find you later, but you’re still left feeling unsure about where you stand with him in contrast to the bubbling feeling of affection you had felt earlier in the night. The way he acts is giving you emotional whiplash.
I have to find Chaewon and Mark, you think to yourself suddenly, trying to shake your head of Jaehyun-related thoughts. The way he’s plagued your thoughts far too many times these past few months terrifies you, and it feels like you’ve lost your mind for real this time. You’re charged with a new determination to not think about the boy until he comes back to you himself. It’s not worth ruining your night over maybe’s.
Weaving through sweaty figures and waving instinctually at the people who happen to recognize you, you find yourself in a sort of trance as you strain to catch a glimpse of one of your friends. The bass-boosted music fills your ears with a heavy buzz as you make your way through what feels like hundreds of people.
A cold hand abruptly reaches out to grasp your wrist when you approach the closed off kitchen, causing you to cautiously glance back at its owner with your other arm ready to push them off.
“Babe, what are you doing here all alone?”
You jump slightly before giving him a childish slap on his arm as a grinning Mark reaches out to embrace you, and the strong smell of twisted tea pungent on his breath. His hand comes up to tuck your head into his neck familiarly, an old habit from when you were young that tends to come out in his drunk endeavors.
“You scared me,” you mumble into his shirt, voice muffled by the fabric. “I was trying to find you, but there’s literally thirty million people in this damn house.”
Feigning hurt, Mark pulls away to put a hand to his heart. “You can’t recognize me from a house away?” His sarcasm makes you squint at him, your hand reaching out to tug him along with you.
“No, Mark. I actually can’t recognize you from a house away,” you bite back, mumbling an extra, “surprisingly too, because I could probably hear your loud-ass laugh from another country if I really wanted to.”
“Literally shut up.”
“Never. Come find Chaewon with me?”
“I-” Mark sighs, giving in to your pleading eyes. What can he say, he has a self-destructive soft spot for his best friend. “Fine. But only if you get her to play one of the drinking games with me, ‘cause you never want to,” he tsks. You offer him an innocent smile before turning towards the back balcony. Gripping Mark’s arm tightly as the two of you make your way through clusters of people, you glance back every so often to make sure he’s still with you. You don’t want to be left alone again.
Again. Like Jaehyun just did when he said he wanted to spend time with me…
He seems to sense your uneasiness when you pause for a moment to look down, the fluorescent lights that lead to the back glass doors making your eyes sting as your fingers tighten their grip on his wrist.
“Hey hey hey,” the boy pauses to move in front of you with worry creasing his brows. “You good?”
You blink away from him, mumbling an unsure “yeah,” before clearing your throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just got dizzy for a sec.”
Mark puts his hands on your shoulders carefully, eyes scanning the way your face looks more apprehensive than usual and your head isn’t held just as high as the Y/N he knows would. He’s had almost his entire life to study your moods and the rises and falls of your expressions, and he knows that something heavy is bothering you to the point where you’re letting him see it bleed through your normal, carefree facade. It’s something serious, and he also knows you’re not gonna tell him until you’re ready.
So for now, he simply smooths down any invisible tensions in your arms and straightens your posture for you like he would in your younger school days, gentle and nimble fingers adjusting the straps of your dress like a parent figure would.
“I like this number on you. You should wear it more often.”
“Thank you,” you smile gratefully at him, forcing your feet to move forward once again. It's not unusual for Mark to compliment you, but it feels particularly comforting tonight after so much of your confidence in yourself has been built up and torn down in a matter of hours.
You don’t let your gaze take in anyone except a potential Chaewon as the two of you finally make it outside, scared of potentially seeing someone you don’t want to see. Out of the corner of your eye, Mark gestures animatedly to the lit up garden, far fewer people mingling in its flowering, winding paths than inside.
“Oh! Chaewon’s right there,” he pushes you lightly in her direction, a poised figure leaning, relaxed, on one of the ivy-slinked marble balconies. “I’m not gonna go far, but I’ll get some drinks from the kitchen for us and be right back, okay? I won’t leave you guys for long.” You’re silent for a moment.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry, Y/N? You’ve done nothing wrong, but whoever or whatever’s bothering you should feel ashamed for making you apologize for nothing,” he chastises immediately, indignant towards the fact he has an inkling of who’s made you feel this way. It pains him to see his best friend hurt silently.
You nod before he gives you one last pat and nudges you in the direction of Chaewon. She turns on her heel just as Mark leaves, face lighting up when she spots your form heading in her direction.
“Took you long enough!” She calls out over with a hand reaching out for you, her other occupied by a flute of some mysterious fizzy liquid. “I’ve been waiting so that we can try the colorful shots in Johnny’s fridge together. I know you secretly like those.”
You snap yourself out of your thoughts before managing a grateful smile as she pulls you into a side hug. “Sorry, the uh… drive took longer than anticipated,” you mumble, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
“Who’d you come with again? I feel so bad that we couldn’t pick you up, but the setup literally took the living energy out of me.”
You bite your lip nervously, eyes flicking to the night sky in reassurance.
“I came with— I came with Jaehyun,” you spit out quietly, already predicting her reaction in your head.
“Damn, for real? I told your brother to call one of your other friends, but this is so much better. Did you guys get time to talk or what?” Chaewon lifts her drink to her lips as she waits with wide eyes, anticipating an answer that you know you can’t give her. If anyone has always rooted for the possibility of him liking you back, it’s her.
“I don’t know,” you finally whisper, giving up as you tug your fingers through your hair. “It’s just… he’s a confusing person. Like yeah, we talked, but I can’t figure him out at all. He goes back and forth from being the closest I’ve ever felt to a boy to an almost distant stranger in a matter of seconds.”
Your friend’s face falls at your words, clearly noting how much you’re beginning to get stressed out over him. It kills her to see anything but a smile on your face, and the fact that it’s because of someone who you’ve pined over for so long is detrimental to watch.
“Y/N…”
“It’s fine. I’m making a big deal out of nothing, probably.” Your voice cracks slightly in the middle of the sentence, but you mask it with a quiet laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real chance with him to begin with, so try not to expect much.” Chaewon’s bitter smile reflects her inner confliction as she reaches out to take your hand in hers.
“Stop, don’t think like that,” she mutters.
“But don’t worry, there’s still,” you whisper, putting your pointer finger and thumb up to approximate the size of the tiny moon in the sky above you, “a little hope. There’s always been.”
You nod to yourself, almost like a subtle reassurance. You’ve always had faith and confidence in your own feelings, and a little hope has never killed you. If anything, it’s brought you closer to Jaehyun than you’ve ever been, and getting to know him in ways that you were never able to has been a silver lining in itself. Just maybe… deep down, not in the way you know you wish you had.
“I love how you’re always been so sure of what you want,” Chaewon confesses. It’s both a blessing and a curse. “But tonight’s about having fun, okay? No use wasting time on a boy that can’t get his own shit straight.”
With a giggle, she pulls you towards the house once again. “I want to see you get wasted. His name is not allowed as far as I’m concerned.”
“Jaehyun’s name…?”
“Who?”
You shake your head with a smile as she feigns confusion with an innocent expression. I don’t deserve my friends, you think to yourself, heart warming at how much they try to make you feel better.
“Come on, Y/N. Look around at all the people,” she laughs out in the tone of a true socialite as she tugs you towards where most of the partygoers are congregated, littered across every corner with their short dresses and sweaty skin. Noticing that your mouth is still tinged with a hint of apprehensiveness, she stops in her tracks and turns to you. “You’re telling me that you’re gonna let him do this to you? This night is for us, not waiting for a stupid boy that’s had the chance of a decade to love on you, pretty girl.”
She fiddles with your dress and smoothing down its invisible wrinkles as you nod along with her, mind willing itself to focus on yourself and your friends instead of—
Right. He doesn’t exist right now.
“And you look so good right now that anyone would be stupid not to feel lucky for having your attention,” she affirms, shiny hair tumbling under fluorescent lights as she beams at you. You can’t help but wrap your arms around her, the comfort of her mere presence and consoling words making your heart burn.
“Love you, Chae. I think we should just date instead,” you mumble into her shoulder, her signature, bright laughter ringing out at your words.
Her eyes brighten even more when she spots Mark appearing back behind you with entire bottles of liquor in his hands.
“Where the hell did you get those, my god,” she ooh and aah’s at him as your face lights up at the appearance of the boy.
“Johnny’s hidden stash in one of the guest bedrooms. He thinks he’s slick,” he snorts, putting a finger up in a shushing motion when Chaewon gasps dramatically. When you giggle at your best friend’s antics, he turns to look at you with a hint of worry on his face.
You seem to have cheered up a bit since he left you to get drinks, but he also knows how good at hiding your true feelings you are. From poker faces to fake laughs, you’ve got it all under your belt. He just wishes you would just let go sometimes, but it’s understandable when he thinks about you as a person. It’s simply in your nature to be selfless, and ever since the two of you were young, you’ve never been one to bother anyone with your own worries. No wonder he’s worried as you crinkle your eyes in elation at him, a complete 180 from five minutes ago.
Glancing at Chaewon, she nods at him discreetly, seemingly having a conversation with just their eyes. You’re okay now.
Letting out a short breath of relief, Mark loops his arm with yours before pulling you into the lion’s den of a party haven.
“Let’s get fucked up, hmm?”
…
You don’t know how much time has passed as you trudge through the garden with your heels in one hand, Chaewon’s fingers laced with yours in the other.
You’re sure it’s been at least three hours since you arrived. No, two. Maybe four?
To be honest, time isn’t even a concept in your book as you swing your arm with your friend’s, a drunken-dopey smile on your face as you relish the feeling of the dirt and grass against your bare skin.
Maybe you would’ve known when Mark had handed you the first shot, eyes flicking absentmindedly to the mounted clock in Johnny’s spacious living room — but you hadn’t cared enough then to figure out the numbers and read the time properly. In fact, you don’t think you were even thinking about anything except getting a bit of alcohol in your system. Forgetting was the first thing on your mind.
And boy, did everything spiral from there.
You recall vague bits here and there, from getting too close with familiar faces to being handed funky glasses with sparkly liquids. It was all a blur of overdue laughter and shots after shots, and you have to admit, completely letting loose for the first time in a while felt numbing in the most beautiful way.
You remember Mark drunkenly laying his head down in your lap at one point, tapping the hard liquor in your solo cup and mumbling a happy, “water fountain?” up at you. You weren’t seeing double just yet, but you certainly weren’t thinking straight enough either to comprehend his words fully. So, with absolutely no hesitation and a tipsy giggle, you poured the rest of the contents in your cup into his open mouth as carefully as you could (read: not careful at all). He had sat up with a cheeky smile, wiping the surprisingly dark, bloodred liquid from his bottom lip before it dribbled down and stained his skin.
Everything after that moment felt muggy, like a heavy blanket was wrapped around your head and knotted twice around your neck. You suppose that the alcohol added up at some point, pushing you past the point of clarity.
And suddenly now, you’re here. In the grass with Chaewon, doing only God knows what in a freezing night chill with your short dress and absence of a cozy summer jacket. You don’t even know how you got outside in the first place.
The cold air is good for you, however, as you can feel the blurriness start to fade away bit by bit. You’re not stumbling around as much anymore, but your grip on your friend’s hand is as tight as ever as you make your way through pretty flower bushes and onto a stone path.
“Oh no, someone dropped their phone,” Chaewon laments with exaggerated sadness — no doubt the alcohol talking — before leaning down to pick up the shiny device. Dusting it off with her fingers, she traces a frowny face into its glass, causing it to suddenly turn on.
“Jesus,” you squint into its blinding screen, mentally cursing the person who had the brightness turned all the way up and causing tiny white dots to appear in your vision. “What time is it?”
“You have eyes, look yourself,” Chaewon turns her head towards you dramatically, words slightly slurred as she throws you an unimpressed look. “But it’s 2:43 am. I can’t believe we’re still conscious.”
You groan, rubbing lightly at your eye before she’s talking again, swaying slightly as she speaks. Letting your gaze wander, you let yourself linger on the few people either passed out on messy lawn chairs or calling their friends for late night rides. Some are standing around like you and Chae, heads hanging down and clearly not in their best condition. There’s people with their arms thrown over the shoulders of their friends too, providing obvious support for their less coherent counterparts.
A couple half hidden behind the edge of the balcony catches your eye, your muggy mind inwardly gushing at how cute they are. You want a relationship like that. Their figures are hidden by the shadows of the house, but you can still see how the boy holds her forearm with care as he leans against the stones with her, head tilted impossibly close to the girl’s to display his full attention on whatever she’s telling him through her hushed whispers.
“—it’s okay ‘cause we’re sleeping over at Johnny’s tonight anyway. And, he has like a thousand guest bedrooms so we can choose any one of them—”
The couple lean into the wall more, the light repositioning as they shift their bodies closer, obviously very comfortable with each other. The girl moves further into the light, shiny hair catching onto the glow as she turns in place. He chases her movements, following her into the beam of the balcony lights as their faces are lit up under the sudden absence of shade.
You breathe out.
No way.
“—and I’ve always wanted to stay at Johnny’s and experience that rich kid life, you know? I wonder what it’s like to—”
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
You think that your heartbeat physically stops as you take in the scene before you. Like a thin arrow slicing right through the flesh and tissue of your heart, and it’s violently humbling. Bruising, even.
Stop.
There’s Saemi. And there’s Jeong Jaehyun too in all his glory, looking at her with the stars glittering in his eyes as she tilts her head up towards him.
Your mind goes blank.
“Hey, Y/N, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? Promise.”
That was what, four hours ago?
Ha.
You sober up immediately, like your head has just just been ruthlessly plunged into a bucket of ice cold water. Like God himself is telling you to face the fucking music and come back down to reality. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can even hear your soul shattering, its pieces clattering down and settling at the bottom of your stomach because you actually feel like you might throw up.
I should’ve known, is the phrase that repeats like a mantra in your head, manically getting louder and louder as you blink in pain. Your eyes refuse to leave them for some reason, watching the way his hand comes up to rest on the junction between her neck and shoulder with a delicate touch.
A bitter taste floods your mouth. You feel like you’re playing a one-sided game of push and pull, and it’s worn you out; it’s not disappointment, or even jealousy that fills your body, but fatigue. It’s tiring to let yourself hope, and then get let down time after time and you feel stupid. Disgusted at yourself, even, for attempting to appeal to a boy who had never given you the time of day in the past even though everyone was aware of how blatantly obvious your crush on him was.
You’ve always prided yourself on how true to your own character you are, but in this moment, you feel like a child watching real adults in the real world. Two years' age difference isn’t much in retrospect, but at this moment, Lim Saemi seems like a whole generation above you. Her maturity shines through every part of her — from her gait to the way she dresses to the way she leans into Jaehyun — and you can’t help but let your worst insecurity get to you as they get impossibly closer.
It hurts, because he’s not even mine.
“Y/N, are you listening?”
You don’t answer.
And when the soft plush of his lips come down to place a gentle kiss against her forehead, you decide that you’ve seen enough.
…
Your mouth feels like paper, your head feels like it’s about to split open, and you feel like shit.
Blearily blinking one eye open and then immediately shutting it after getting a glimpse of an unfamiliar ceiling, you groan out loud before stuffing your face into your arm.
Somehow, the little bit of willpower left in you forces your body to get off of the bed you’re on, stumble through the darkness (you think you accidentally trip over a stray body on the ground too), and feel your way to the hallway. Your brain has completely shut off, but you’re also fucking parched and nothing will get in the way of you and water right now.
Your feet miraculously lead you to the empty expanse of Johnny’s kitchen, little sunlight reaching its pristine tiles at such an early hour. Glancing at the red clock numbers on the oven, you blanch when it displays a mocking 6:04am. You’re lucky that your hangovers don’t hit too hard. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you can finally swallow and lean back against the counter in relief as you take a deep breath.
And that’s when it hits you. That’s when everything hits you.
You almost choke on your water as your mind pulls last night from the depths of its sleepiness, from the drinking to the unwanted feelings to the sensation of blacking out. You remember it all.
Taeyong taking a body shot in front of you (scarred). Johnny making out with one of your close school friends in front of you (scarred x2). Mark handing you drink after drink. Chaewon leading you into the garden for fresh air. And… and seeing the boy you like with a girl you thought he had nothing to do with anymore.
Like a floodgate of torturous memories, your mind automatically replays every little interaction without warning as you throw your head back against a cabinet in regret. It’s as if you have no control over what you get reminded of and what you don’t, because of course, the first thing that flashes before you is the feeling you felt when you saw Jeong Jaehyun in the courtyard.
His arm wrapped around the shoulder of Saemi’s as your best friend desperately vied for your attention, the girl finally following your line of sight to eventually see the scene you were watching in chilling silence. And Chaewon had noticed it all, from the way he smiled down at her to the very moment he looked up in your direction.
“Y/N…” she had whispered, the pity clear in her tone. You’d turned your head away quickly, not wanting her to see the tears gathering on your lash-line, but she couldn’t help but notice the way you reached up to wipe them away. Your body had gone into autodrive, quickly moving to the side to get away from the two as fast as you could. Chaewon reached out for you before turning back to glare at Jaehyun, surprised to see him already staring right at you.
He seemed unfairly distraught and guilty in her eyes, his gaze conflicted as his hands fell from Saemi’s face in a flash and hovered in the air in shock. A few seconds later and he snapped out of it, leaving her standing alone and rushing over in your direction, seemingly trying to reach you before you got lost in the mass of people inside the mansion.
As he passed Chaewon’s lingering form, her hand flew out to latch onto his shoulder.
Shaking her head at him — as if saying, you lost your chance ages ago — it was then that she truly felt awful about the inner turmoil her best friend was constantly subjected to when liking a boy like that.
Wincing, you press a cheek to the cold marble countertop of the kitchen as all of your thoughts flitter through your consciousness at once. You wish the dull throbbing in your head would stop, and even thinking about it makes you shift uncomfortably in place, itching to just get outside and clear your mind with fresh air.
Fuck it, you decide, no one’s awake anyway. I need to get away, even if it's only for a few moments.
Pushing your hair out of your face, you finish your water before heading out. There’s an unusual smell of artificial roses as you move through the hallways and descend the grand staircase; it’s eerie to walk in a silent house, all of the hallways dark and stoic. Johnny’s mansion looks like a mini natural disaster with the way decorations and bottles are strewn across its marble floors, almost like savages making use of a castle. It’s like a presentation of physical evidence of what took place last night.
Finally making it outside into the crisp morning air, you relish in the chirping of the songbirds and empty expanse of a dew-tipped garden. Taking a deep breath, you shiver slightly before heading down a small hill behind the garden. You recall there being a lake behind the property that Taeyong and Johnny used to bring you to when you were younger, one with a small dock that retreated far enough into the water that you could be alone without having the urge to constantly look towards the house again.
You don’t expect anyone to be awake — or even outside — this early, but it comes as a surprise when you almost trip over a figure sitting on the bottom-most stone step. Putting a hand to your heart, your eyes widen as they turn to look up at you.
“Oh… hi. I didn’t expect anyone would be awake this early.”
“Yeah, I just needed some fresh air,” you say, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “So I’m going down to the dock…”
“Ah. I see… um. You- you wouldn’t mind if I joined you, right?”
…
Life is funny sometimes.
As you swing your legs gently above the light waves, you can’t help but think about the irony of the situation you’re in. You bite your lip before turning to the person next to you, their knees pulled up to their chest as they stare out into the water.
“Saemi…”
The girl turns to you, a hesitant smile on her face as she reaches out for your hand.
Lim Saemi takes your fingers between hers before letting out a deep sigh, the talkative persona she normally holds, gone, as she looks between each of your eyes. The hesitance between the two of you is awkward in a way. You’ve never had a full conversation with her and you’ve always assumed things about her based off of others’ recountings, but she couldn’t be more different now.
The little imaginary devil on your shoulder shakes her pitchfork at you, as if saying, “you should be hating her, remember?”
You look down to hide your slight frown.
“I think we have a lot to talk about,” she starts, voice tentative and slow as she purses her lips in contemplation. You still. Nodding your head, you let her move closer to you on the wooden planks of the dock before she makes eye contact with you again.
“You know, sometimes it scares me how alike you and Taeyong look. It’s like staring into a mirror image, and I feel like I see memories in you that I associate with your brother.”
You cock your head at her words. “...we’re pretty similar people too, I think,” you whisper back, an automatic smile reaching your face as your mind finds its own way to him.
“I think so too,” she grins. “Actually, Taeyong and I have been friends for a long time, and he’s always speaked of you so fondly that I couldn’t help but anticipate meeting you. I would see glimpses of you here and there, and he would constantly mention his baby sister and how much he worried about her. He was the best older brother, and anyone could see it.” She pauses, taking in a deep breath. “Yet he treats his friends the very same way, with the same adoration and care. It doesn’t matter how much Taeyong will grow in the future with his escalating popularity and growing talent in music, he’ll always have the kindest soul in my eyes. I’m genuinely so thankful for him, Y/N.”
To hear someone speak about your brother like that triggers an emotion in you that you didn’t even know you had, gaze curious as you wait for her to continue.
“I don’t really know how to start this conversation to be honest, but- I bet you know how hard high school is.” You nod, grimacing at all of the particular more negative memories you have. “You’re balancing on that fine line between feeling too adult to be in school and feeling too childish to live your own life yet, and I, for one, most definitely didn’t know how to deal with such a sudden change in my social and academic surroundings. I think I changed physically a lot then, too. My face, my body, everything. I started morphing into someone that I couldn’t recognize in the mirror, and I came to the realization that boys liked me first for my appearance, not my personality. And… and you know what I regret the most? I learned how to use my body as a weapon.”
“I learned how to change the way I talk, how to talk to boys so that I could get them to do what I want, and suddenly, everything changed even faster. People flocked to me, which is what I had always secretly wanted, but the person that they wanted wasn’t me. I had flown a bit too close to the sun and now I was stuck with this facade that I couldn’t get rid of. It was never just ‘Saemi,’ I was always simply the object of their desires, something to be acquired. And I had brought it upon myself.”
Recalling the Saemi you knew and recognized in high school, you have a bit more of an understanding of her now. She held up a front in order to protect herself, and as a result, she lost touch with her own self. Your heart hurts for her as you hesitate to reach out and offer comfort.
“Your brother was the first one who understood me right away. We met in detention during our second to last year, and he saw right through me in the first ten minutes. Sat me down in the teacher’s empty chair and told me that I was a bitch for breaking one of his friend’s hearts.” She closes her eyes as she recalls that very afternoon. “Taeyong gave it to me plain and straight that day: I shouldn’t have promised false love to so many boys if I wasn’t planning to give it in the first place. Your brother may have been a player too, but the boundaries he always set with his girls made him a thousand times better than I was.”
You place your hand on hers, Saemi giving you a grateful smile in return.
“I thought hard about myself and my decisions after that, and I decided that if I wanted to enjoy the last years of my secondary schooling, I needed to take back control of my own actions. After I apologized to his friend, he offered me genuine friendship in the weeks following, one without the jealousy and lust that I was always caught up in before. I had always been surrounded with so much toxicity, and he was able to pull me out of it so easily that I finally felt seen for the first time.”
She pauses, glancing at you briefly before staring up at the sky.
“That was also… the first time I met Jaehyun.”
You shift, staring down at your shoe laces as they sway lightly with the wind.
Ah, you smile sadly to yourself. We’ve gotten to this part of the story.
“Your brother brought me along with him one day to one of his parties, and I had truly never been enamored with a boy that quickly before.”
You can tell that Saemi’s choosing her words carefully with you, and they hit a lot harder when you relate to what she’s saying. You’re certainly no stranger to his charm.
“We started talking that night and Jaehyun had somehow broken down all of the walls I had carefully built up within the first month of knowing each other. It was new for me. My personal mantra had always followed the lines of, ‘if they like what they see and feel, I might as well use it to my advantage.’ But it was different with him. I didn’t want us to be a one time thing, and I certainly did not want him to think of me as something who couldn’t do that kind of serious relationship shit. I wanted him to like me so badly without thinking about if I had genuine feelings towards him in the first place.”
She takes another deep breath, as if she’s collecting her thoughts, before leaning forward with an airy laugh and sadness clear in her eyes.
“Have you ever mistaken love for dependency, Y/N?”
Have you?
You think back to all the people you’ve liked throughout your teenage years, ranging from hallway crushes to… well- Jaehyun. Your pupils dart to the water as you think about the idea of depending on a person. Do I depend on the people I like, or do I know when to distance myself?
You shake your head.
“Jaehyun and I… we jumped into everything too quickly. It wasn’t even a right person, wrong time situation; we simply weren’t ready. We tried putting our all into this lone spark that we felt without stepping back and really looking at our relationship.” She stops to observe the rising sun above the lake, its golden reflection casting a healthy glow on her skin. Saemi’s beautiful like this, her feelings bare and raw before you as she lays out her emotions so vulnerably.
“I guess I never really loved Jaehyun in the way he loved me. He was looking for something tender and real, and younger me was not in the capacity to give that to him. I tried to convince myself every single fucking day that I liked him in that way, but even I knew deep down that my I would never convince myself. I still had this lingering, detrimental mentality of seeing boys as something I could win over, and my fascination with him intertwined with that in ugly ways.”
Saemi’s face falls a little before she takes both of your hands in hers, eyes sincere as she peers at you.
“The reason I’m telling you all this is because… I saw you,” she whispers carefully, watching your reaction. “Last night. When Jaehyun and I were together in the garden… I saw you watching before you walked away.”
Your heart drops as you look down at her hands holding yours so carefully, her pretty fingers encompassing your wrist as you unwillingly recall the worst emotions you had felt in a while.
She saw.
You only manage to get out a small, “oh,” before she squeezes your hand reassuringly.
“Hey hey hey, look at me,” she leans down slightly to put herself at eye level with you. The edges of her lips quirk up in the slightest, her hair falling elegantly against her face as the wind picks it up and puts it back down again. “I don’t want you to misunderstand. Why? Because all those years ago, Jaehyun misunderstood, and I misunderstood, and it was all of these assumptions and forced feelings that drove our relationship to its grave. We were shit at communicating with each other properly, and that eventually hurt both of us too deeply to heal the right way.”
You nod at her hesitantly, taking in what she’s saying with a newfound understanding. Saemi sighs before smiling again at you.
“I’ve hurt a lot of people in the past,” she says, forlorn, her eyes crinkled as she sniffs in the cold of the morning. “And I never got the chance to apologize to them properly. But last night, I finally worked up the confidence to revisit our high school days with Jaehyun.” She stops, leaning back onto the dock with her hands behind her. Her eyes close as she soaks in the morning sun, and you can’t help but mirror the position as your heart warms for her. “We finally got our much needed closure last night, and I was feeling a bit down afterwards so he was simply comforting me. And I won’t weigh you down with all the nitty gritty details, but we were able to see our ending all the way through without letting our emotions get in the way.”
You can’t help but reach out and hug the girl, your arms wrapping comfortably around her shoulders to express your awe and gratitude. With a little noise of surprise, Saemi pauses for a few seconds before embracing you back. Everything makes more sense now, and you can’t help but feel a little ashamed for jumping to conclusions so easily.
“I’m so grateful that you shared all that with me,” you mumble into her shirt, her chuckle ringing out into the lake as she rubs your back like an older sister would.
“Of course. If anyone deserved to hear all of this, it would be you.”
“Why?”
Saemi snorts, pulling back from your hug before lifting an eyebrow at you.
“Oh please, Y/N, you should see Jaehyun from everyone else’s eyes. We can all see the way he looks at you.” Your mouth drops open slightly, tilting your head in confusion.
“He looks at me a certain way?”
“God, I have never met two more stupid people in my lifetime,” she groans, bringing her fingers up to her temple. “And I say this lovingly, of course.”
With a fond look on her face, she nudges your shoulder. “But I’m really glad Jaehyun has someone like you.”
You bashfully look down at the water, a rosy blush creeping up your cheeks at her words. You were never 100% sure of where you stood with him, but that familiar feeling of hope has started to creep up once again. Could I go through that again, though? That same push and pull?
Seeming to sense your sudden aversion, Saemi loops her arm through yours in one smooth motion and sets your hand in her lap.
“Hey. Promise me you’ll go talk to him?”
You hesitate to reply, mouth dry as you think about everything she’s poured out to you. You think about your own feelings, and you think about the possibility of having something more with Jaehyun. You think about his history with Saemi, and how this issue of communication has ruined your confidence so many times. But what is it all worth if you don’t try?
With a slow nod, you offer her a reassuring smile before dusting off your clothes and standing up. “Promise.”
Saemi grins at you.
“That’s my girl.”
“Jaehyun?” she asks, putting a hand out on his arm as he looks behind her, distressed. She’s never seen him like this, a nervous jitter in his hands as his eyes dart around at the scene behind them.
Turning around, she just manages to catch a glimpse of a girl rushing towards the back of the house, her head downturned but not masking the obvious face of discomfort in her features. Her friend turns around to glare at them before following close after.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, chewing on his lip as he hesitates to run after your escaping form. “I fucked up so bad, Saemi.” Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he lets out a noise of exasperation as he watches you get farther and farther away.
“What?”
“She’s leaving, Saemi. What do I do, what do I do,” he mumbles under his breath. “I just know she’s gonna think I hurt her on purpose. I always fuck it up somehow.”
“Woah, let’s breathe first,” she holds him steady at the shoulders, grip strong as she turns his body to face hers. “Breathe slowly.”
After a few panicked breaths, he looks back at her and attempts to inhale at a slower pace. A few seconds pass and he’s calmed down already, but a worried crease still flits across his features nonetheless.
“Listen to me, Jaehyun. Don’t leave her in the dark.”
His body loses tension bit by bit as he nods back a little, a heavy look in his eyes.
“We both know how that feels, better than anyone.”
…
Twenty-three missed calls.
That’s how many you’ve accumulated over one day.
You do the math on your bedroom ceiling as you lay splayed out on the mattress like a starfish. Each glow-in-the-dark, plastic star represents a missed call, and they swim across your vision as you point up at them with your hand to count them.
There’s seven from Mark, another seven from Chaewon, four from Taeyong, one from Johnny, and the remaining four? Mentally moving the glowing stars across the solar system of the ceiling, you pick four of the brightest glowing stars before keeping them hidden in a little group at the corner of your eye.
4 missed calls from Jeong Jaehyun, your phone reads from beside you on the mattress, the screen habitually lighting up throughout the day.
Your hand itches to grab it and just call him like you so desperately want to, but you exercise self-restraint as you roll over and stuff your face into your pillow. It’s unfairly hot tonight — the sticky, humid type — and being surrounded by all of your fluffy blankets and pillows does nothing to help your condition, but you don’t want to move out of your room. Letting out a muffled scream into the fabric, you groan to yourself when you realize that all of the problems floating around in your head won’t just magically disappear.
A normal Sunday would have gone like this: waking up mid afternoon with an abnormally large appetite, eating the entire contents of your kitchen to your heart’s content, and then going back to bed. Unfortunately, today was a bit different.
For the entire day, you’ve been busy. Busy thinking.
You had quickly left Johnny’s estate after your talk with Saemi early in the morning, borrowing one of Johnny’s cars from his garage and leaving him a little note that you’d return it soon (to be honest, you doubt that he’ll even notice). You’ve been in your room ever since.
With your eyes trained out the window, your record player ran through entire sets of albums as you lay on your bed in contemplation for the entirety of the afternoon. The fan in your room barely kept you cool as it picked up the fabric of your sundress every few minutes, marking another block of time that had gone by without you getting up and doing something about your position.
You let out a humph before throwing an arm over your eyes and retreating back into deep thought.
I’ve been distancing myself from him the entire day, and that’s the opposite of what I want to do, right? I’m turning into exactly what Saemi warned me not to.
Biting your lip, you turn your body over to stare at your motionless phone. But what should I do?
In a single impulsive movement, you reach out to grab the device before you can change your mind. Your fingers lead you to your contacts before your brain can catch up.
You can’t even fully register what you’ve just done, but Jaehyun’s name flashing across your screen certainly makes it all very much real, your phone waiting for him to pick up on the other side of the line. Your face gets hotter and hotter as the seconds tick on, the beeping of a no-caller reply heightening your nerves.
Finally, with a little click from your hand, he picks up. Your eyes widen. You really didn’t really think this through; now you had to actually talk to him.
“Hey,” Jaehyun sounds out, his voice breathless. “I- are you okay?”
“Yeah.” At least I think I am, you add on to yourself, grimacing. “Um… are you free today?”
“Am- am I free today? Yes! I mean yes, yes I’m free today.”
You can’t help but smile at the way he trips over his words a bit, his nervousness bleeding over your speaker.
“Well then, rooftop at mine at 10?”
“For real?” Jaehyun exclaims, checking the time on his alarm clock. That’s in twenty minutes. “Wait, I’ll be there. I promise.”
And with that, the two of you hang up with a million unspoken words and unfinished sentences. You let out the breath you were holding in, because you genuinely thought you would pass out when you heard Jaehyun’s voice again after finding out all that you did. Throwing yourself against your bed, you let yourself indulge in your feeling of hope again.
“He’ll be here,” you sigh in happiness to yourself. You relax into your pillows before springing up immediately, a look of horror taking over your face. “Oh my god, he’ll be here.”
Rushing around your room with a newfound energy, you make sure you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed (although you technically did just roll out of bed, but he doesn’t have to know that) before unlatching the window of your bedroom and carefully climbing out onto your roof.
It’s well past dusk now, and the sky is abnormally clear with not a single cloud in sight. The moon shines brilliantly in its place as it casts an eerie glow on the panels you’re sitting on, their bumpy texture making it seem like the material is constantly shifting.
You let yourself go for a moment, resting your head in the palms of your heads before staring out at the roofs of your city. They create a complex, urban terrain: a mix of timely balconies and rooftop gardens, orange lanterns and fairy lights alike.
The beeping of a car horn brings you out of your daze. Peering down into the street below you, a familiar, classy black car is visible through all of the telephone lines.
Okay Y/N, deep breaths.
Jaehyun gets out of the front seat, immediately looking up in hopes of catching a glimpse of you before you notice he’s there. However, when his eyes follow the length of your house up, he finds that you’re already staring at him with an unreadable expression.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this nervous in his life. With cold hands, he lifts himself onto the electrical box beside your house before climbing up onto the slope of the roof, climbing over to you with an uneasy smile on his face.
“Hey.”
You tuck your chin into your arms, leaning forward to look at him curiously. “You could’ve taken the window, you know, but that works too.”
“What’s life without any risks, hm?”
As he settles himself, you can’t help but think that there’s a double lining to his words. “That’s the most Jaehyun-esque thing I’ve ever heard.”
His laugh warms your heart in a way you didn't know it could.
The first few moments are quiet, just two pairs of eyes looking up at the stars before Jaehyun breaks the silence with a small cough.
“We got lucky, there’s no clouds tonight. Pure stars.” You look over in his general direction, his gaze not even directed towards the sky anymore.
He pauses, so you turn and happen to meet eyes at the same time. Both of you open your mouths to talk, prompted by the invisible tension between you.
“Let me just say that—“
“I just wanted to tell you—“ he starts at the same time you do, eyes widening when you both go quiet once again. “You go first.” Giving him a grateful smile, you think a bit about how to express yourself before twisting your body completely so that you’re facing him.
“I just wanted to apologize first,” you start, holding up a hand when Jaehyun starts to protest. “Wait. I really want to tell you this before I get too nervous to.”
“I know everyone was worried when I went kinda off the grid this morning, but I needed some time alone with my thoughts. I shouldn't have ignored you like that, especially when things seemed so off between us. This is really hard to say to your face but,” you glance away from him as he waits patiently for you, “I always feel this rush of different emotions whenever I’m around you. And sometimes it’s confusing, but other times—“ stopping to exhale, you notice Jaehyun’s grin from the corner of your eye.
“Hey, why are you laughing? I’m trying to be serious right now,” you whine. He simply puts his hand up to his mouth to hide the elated expression on his face.
“You’re just too cute, that’s all,” he replies adoringly, his eyes creasing behind his hand.
“I can’t take this,” you mutter in embarrassment, stuffing your face into your arm to hide the blush of your cheeks. “See! Stuff like that. You make me experience, like, thirty different emotions at once.”
He simply giggles at you, throwing out a little “my bad,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You nudge him in the arm.
“Sorry sorry, Y/N. Wait, I’ll be serious now.”
Both of you taking deep breaths, you put your hand up to your heart to calm its erratic beating as Jaehyun composes his expression back to normal.
“I really wanted to apologize too.”
You glance at him in surprise as the words leave his mouth, sincere and heavy.
“I’ve been pretty shitty to you, and I recognize how confusing it must have been for you to watch me constantly go back and forth between different personas. Honestly, being back home forced me to face the people here, and suddenly I was thrown into this internal conflict between my high school life and my present self. That’s still no excuse for how many mixed signals I gave you these past few months, but I want you to know that it was never my intention to hurt you.”
Reaching out to brush a small leaf off your shoulder, his hand trails down your arm until he’s taken your hand in his. You can tell how much he means it by the way he’s looking at you — like you hold the entire galaxy in your eyes. You think that you finally see a replication of how you look at him yourself; after all, it’s being reflected back to you right now.
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope you can tell, but I really like you,” he whispers, bringing your hand up to his chest. He wants you to feel how much his nerves are racing just as fast as yours.
You think that your heart just about stops. You’ve dreamt of this moment since you were younger, and now that it’s finally coming to life, it’s unreal to think that he feels the same.
“I think you know how I feel,” you reply back quietly, looking down at your hands entwined with his.
“Say it?” he asks with a pleading face, the corners of his lips quirking up when you roll your eyes.
“Jeong Jaehyun, do you really think I believe that you didn’t know that I’ve liked you ever since we were kids?” Shaking his head innocently at your suspicion, he pouts in a manner that’s very unlike him.
“Fine,” you give up, unable to hide the smile creeping up on your face. “I like you Jaehyun, I like you so much that you don’t even know how happy I am right now.”
“Oh, I know. Come here,” he scoots over before tapping the side of his shoulder with his finger. Not getting the memo, you tilt your head inquisitively before he reaches over himself and puts your head on his shoulder himself. If your heart was skipping beats before, it’s probably failing to beat at all now.
“I want you to trust me,” he murmurs under his breath, his grip tightening on your hand. “I know I don’t have the best track record right now, but I’ll prove to you how much I like you.”
You furrow your brows in confusion. “You don’t have to prove anything…“ You wholeheartedly believe and trust in his feelings, but with the way he’s looking at you right now, you decide to humor him and raise an eyebrow prompting him to go on.
“Wait, you’ll do anything?” You ask, looking up at the stars to hide your telling grin.
“Anything. Even suffer through another one of those awful DiCaprio movies.”
“Suffer?” you exclaim, your head lifting off of his shoulder with his words.
“Shit- no no not suffer. Who said suffer? You must’ve misheard me, I most definitely said enjoy.”
“You’re on thin ice, Jeong.”
He snorts at your threatening expression, an arm snaking behind you to wrap around your waist protectively.
Turning his head to look down at you, you’re met with his nose almost touching yours. You can see every eyelash, every freckle adorning his skin as neither of you make the motion to move away.
Jaehyun loses his breath at the sight of you so close. He keeps his teasing eyes on yours before taking that extra step forward to bump your noses together. Glancing down at your lips, he steadies himself so that his voice can sound as confident as he envisions it in his head.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please, Jaehyun.”
With your consent, he pulls you forward by the waist before slotting your lips together carefully. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure at which he’s holding you, or the fact that you’ve waited for this moment for almost your entire youth, but kissing Jaehyun is glorious.
He moves a hand up to cup the back of your neck before pushing forward impossibly closer, tucking your hair behind your ear in one smooth motion as his mouth moves in tandem with yours.
You make a noise of surprise when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, giving you a little nip before licking over the skin carefully. The passion and lust that seeps through his tongue is made clear as the minutes pass, and your reactions only spur him on.
Th mix of his skin on yours burning its way across your body and the delicacy at which he touches you makes your heart alight for a completely different reason. Threading your fingers through his hair, you're delighted to find that that particular motion makes him shudder under your hands, and kiss you more like his life depends on it.
After a while of marking each other's skin and exchanging sweet nothings between his kisses, you tap his chest to pull apart for air, your breathless mien making him grin smugly.
“I’m that good, huh?”
“Shut up, Jaehyun.”
…
The rings on your fingers clink with his as you hand him a metal camping cup, its silver surface hot to the touch even at night. Glancing up at Jaehyun, you laugh when you catch his skeptical expression.
“The hell is this…” he asks in borderline horror as the liquid in his cup sloshes around.
“Mark’s gonna love hearing that,” you remark, putting your own cup to your lips as you bring your knees to your chest.
It’s the most comfortable when you’re with Jaehyun like this, sitting on the hood of his car in the dead of the night to stargaze into the early hours of the morning.
It’s been a few weeks since that night on the rooftop, and you’ve never felt more alive. From long drives with Taeyong to mini adventures with Mark, and from jukebox diners with Chaewon and constellation hunting with Jaehyun, you finally feel at home in a place you’re about to leave. University is close on the horizon, but that doesn’t mean you can’t spend your last free evenings with the people you love the most.
“Is this your recipe?” Jaehyun asks, pulling up your legs so that they rest over his lap. You shake your head with a cheeky smile.
“Stole it,” you whisper, scrunching your nose at the distinct smell.
“And what did Mark’s creative ass come up with this time,” he laments back, taking your cup to compare it with his in confusion.
“Our cups hold the same exact thing, Jaehyun. I didn’t secretly poison your drink if that’s what you’re thinking, and I know you are.” You take back your cup before taking another sip and taking a little piece of paper out of your pocket to read from. “But anyway, it's ‘orange liquor, orange juice, lime juice, maple syrup, sliced jalapeño, and agave blanco sugar in the rim.’ You can steal the recipe too, but don't tell him that I gave it to you. He’d murder me.”
“Mm,” he muses, nuzzling into your neck. “I wouldn’t want my girlfriend dead.”
You freeze in mid-air, mind turning the title over and over again in your head. “Girlfriend?”
Jaehyun sits up immediately, looking at you with the most mortified expression on his face. “Fuck, I never asked you to be my girlfriend, did I?”
With a small giggle at his antics, you simply lean against him and pat his arm in consolation. “It’s okay, I don’t need a label to know how you feel about me.” Jaehyun hums contently before suddenly wrapping his arms around you, your delighted shriek ringing out as he pulls you down with him and falls back against the metal roof of the car.
“Can we just stay like this forever?”
You sigh in satisfaction as your body follows the rises and falls of his chest. The stars above seem to blink happily at the two of you as they make their way across the sky, the little, twinkling lights of overpassing planes highlighting their presence.
Intertwining your fingers with his, he gently kisses the side of your face before closing his eyes.
Even if the two of you hadn’t realized it yet, it had always been like this: two childish souls crafting the idea of mature love. Two blooming young adults, with fizzing feelings and cherry picked lips, daring to love one another like the grownups in black and white colored movies.
Your summers are defined by sticky ‘n sweet cherry cola, rides around the abandoned carousel with your friends, and “borrowing” quarters out of your brother’s Cadillac to insert into the jukebox of the local diner. They’re tinged with the taste of Mark’s special drinks and Chaewon’s sweet words, with Taeyong’s cheery voice ringing out throughout your house and your parents’ weekly sitcom reruns. And most of all, summers are made of Jaehyun’s lavender cologne and the way he holds you close when you need it the most.
“Don’t be surprised if the moon calls you by name, Y/N, because I tell her about you all the time.”
…
<3 you can find their character profiles HERE.
[ for Y/N, mark, chaewon, jaehyun, taeyong, and saemi ]
i'm such a sucker for brother's best friend au. this is seriously chef's kiss! the feeeeeeeeellssssssss !!!! and the ending!!! omg just everything about this fic is amazing!
warnings and content: +18, explicit sexual content, virgin reader, fingering, unprotected, nipple play, biting, some level of corruption, sexual tension, oral fem receiving, hand job, pet names (darling, love, baby, my girl, my lady) and titles (Sir, Miss), begging, praise, spanking, sexual tension, gentlemanly and lady-like behaviour etc etc
words: 19k
other characters: mark as reader's friend, jeno for a moment, johnny mentioned
synopsis: The Train. That's where your parents met a few years before you were born and that's where your grandparents met as well as their parents before that. Oh to be grown and travel on the Train as well, meeting your soulmate and falling so madly in love that you'd become consumed by it. And there you were years later, your only travel case in your hand and your best dress on, standing in the Train Station at exactly 1:05am on the 1st of May. You looked up and let the night sky calm you down and when you looked back in front of you, the train was there. What were you supposed to do now? But then one door opened, engulfing you with the freshest flowery scent. The most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life descended and tilted his hat lifting one gloved hand to guide you inside. "Welcome aboard, Miss."
for the lovers of dream sorter haechan
__________
When the curtains call the time
Will we both go home alive?
It wasn't hard to realize
Love's the death of peace of mind
The Train.
That's where your parents met a few years before you were born and that's where your grandparents met as well as their parents before that.
The tales of those encounters enriched your childhood and your fragile dreams. Oh, to be grown and travel on the Train as well, meeting your soulmate and falling so madly in love that you'd become consumed by it.
You’ve always desired it. You’ve always longed for it.
The teachers would get shiny eyes and beaming smiles on May 1st. You remembered the first time it happened. The air felt different and the town felt more alive than usual.
"Today is a special day for all of us," your parents also smiled at the breakfast table. They looked almost shy and they exchanged gazes they would usually let themselves have in a more private moment.
You were in your first year of elementary school but from what you could understand, that day sounded like a big deal for the adults and it started to be a big deal for you as well.
"This is the day when people go on a Journey to find their soulmate," the teacher repeated what you've already heard at home.
The Train, the children would whisper, the giddiness in their voices making you almost escape your skin with excitement.
"Can we go and see it?" you asked with your heart in your throat from the emotion. You really wanted to see all the young adults go to the Train Station and embark.
The teacher smiled as if that was the most common question asked. "Unfortunately, it's a very private moment. But when you're ready, you will finally see the Train and you will find the love of your life during the Journey."
You were an only child so besides your parents' tale of how starstruck they both felt upon seeing each other on the Train, you had no other immediate example of how the experience would go.
"My brother Johnny said the place they ended up in is way more gorgeous than our town," one of your classmates and your best friend said one time. "But not as gorgeous as his partner, he said,” making a throwing-up motion with his fingers.
A choir of grossed out children made you giggle at the time and you joined them, but deep inside you knew that it was indeed possible to meet a person more gorgeous than the most gorgeous place on earth.
You wanted that. You desperately wanted that.
Your parents also said their towns of origin weren't as beautiful as the one you were living in and although you could objectively see it was decently cute and cozy you were sure they felt that way because of the rosy love glasses.
"Why do I have to leave this place when I find my soulmate?" you wondered one time as you were growing older and having more and more thoughts about the Journey.
Your mom patted your head. "When you find the love of your life the Train stops and lets you both off. The couple has to live in the place they ended up in."
"What if I want to come home?" you argued.
"Your partner will be your home," your dad explained with a fond smile. "We will see each other often the way you see all of your grandparents. Don't worry about missing us."
"Also it is too soon for you to think so deeply about it," your mom chuckled, pulling at your cheek.
Yet, there you were years later, your only suitcase in your hand, which you bought for the occasion, and your best dress on, standing in the Train Station and feeling like the too soon came, well, too soon.
Your mom helped you put on some makeup as well that day and you had to admit you were feeling pretty cute.
But oh so anxious.
You couldn’t believe you were about to initiate the Journey on the Train. Thoughts of how your soulmate looked like adorned your mind since you could remember but in the latest months you found yourself fantasizing about them more and more.
But with the pretty thoughts, some thoughts of doom would send rocks to your mind as well feeding your anxiety even further.
The mixed emotions made you uneasy.
"What if there's no soulmate for me?" you looked yourself in the mirror as your mom finished her last touches on your hair.
"Nonsense," she reassured you.
"But has it happened before?" you insisted.
She sighed. "Yes but it's very rare. What happens, in that case, is that you need to come back home and you need to go on the Journey the following year."
"And are there people who went on for many years and they met no one?"
"Not as far as I know. Everyone met someone sooner or later. Your grandma met your grandpa after 3 years."
You exhaled. Maybe you'd just go on a little train ride and come home before sunset.
Maybe you'll also need 3 years.
Maybe no one would fall in love with you ever.
You expected the Station to be full of people but it was completely empty.
"Don't worry about it. The Station doesn't let you see your friends until you're all on."
You bit your lower lip and waited. There was no moon on the sky and the stars were very visible.
You looked up and let the night sky calm you down and when you looked back in front of you, the Train was there.
"Heavens," you swallowed the little surprising gasp and looked to your right then left feeling your breath accelerate. You didn’t hear it arrive.
What were you supposed to do now? Was it supposed to feel this ominous?
But then one door opened with a slow hiss, engulfing you with the freshest flowery scent.
The most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life descended and tilted his hat lifting one gloved hand to guide you inside.
"Welcome aboard, Miss."
His hair was black and a bit longer in the back. Your father would have said it looked a bit messy; he’d probably offer some gel and suggested him to comb it backwards. But the man wore it so well that you found yourself thinking how it would feel like to pass your hand through it and mess it up even further.
“Thank you,” you replied quietly. Then you cleared your throat and tried again.
The man’s face was a polite mask, not one muscle of his perfect face twitching or moving. On the contrary, you felt your face in flames as you walked near him to enter the wagon.
“Please, choose the coach you’re most attracted to,” you heard his voice behind you. The fresh flowery perfume followed you both and you realized it was his scent. Taking a few steps forward you found yourself shaking ever so slightly.
“Who are you?” you turned around before having a chance to look down the dark but cosily illuminated wooden corridor of the train.
His chest was so close that you could see the little silvery tag on it. Conductor.
Then you took a step back not realizing how close he was.
“I apologize for not having introduced myself earlier. I am the Conductor, Miss,” he simply replied. “I’ll be around the Train if you need me. Also, if you ring the bell you’ll find in every wagon."
His eyes were a dark shade of marine blue, you realized, like the ocean during a storm, when you can’t distinguish between the water and the sky.
Your grandpa told you many tales of his life at sea. He used to say it was the most beautiful and terrifying thing, and at the time you didn’t understand how something scary could be beautiful, but that man’s eyes made a shiver go down your spine yet you didn’t want him to stop looking at you.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'll leave you to get comfortable,” he tilted his hat again, making a shadow appear over his eyes, as if reading your mind and seeing your fascination with them.
You gave him a little bow as well, as your mother has been teaching you it was polite to do when meeting gentlemen, then you stared at the way he turned around and took the opposite direction in the tight corridor. His shoulders almost touched the walls when he walked and his legs looked extremely long in his black uniform.
The coach you chose was the first on your left, a luxurious dark brown space, with deep bordeaux seats which you realized were softer than any other material you’ve ever felt before. You placed your suitcase on the designated space and sat down, looking at the windows showing your town’s Train Station, then you inhaled and exhaled looking down at your dress and rubbing your lace-gloved hands together.
What were you supposed to do?
Would your soulmate come barging in your coach?
Would you meet over breakfast in the morning?
Why were you all supposed to go at exactly 1:05am?
You suppressed a yawn wondering where you were expected to sleep, then with the corner of your eye you noticed the curtains slowly close and you gasped feeling the train depart at the same time.
Your older cousins liked to joke about ghosts roaming around the Train but you thought you were grown already to believe such things. Yet, the movement felt uncanny and you were so on edge that you haven’t realized you were squished against one of the seats’ corners until a ding made you scream.
On the little table a small card boarded with gold appeared out of thin air.
“Dear Miss, you are invited for Breakfast in the Dining Car. Please turn the card around for the Train map. My warmest regards, the Conductor”
You touched the paper with your fingertip as if it were a poisonous snake and the ink smudged a bit as if it has been freshly written.
Breakfast? At 1am? Maybe he meant tomorrow morning?
You turned the card around as instructed and the display for the train was illustrated. A little “you are here” red mark told you that your wagon was the one in the middle of the train.
You wondered how did the Conductor know you chose that specific coach when he left you just a few minutes prior and didn’t even check back.
The Dining car was towards the head of the train, the direction in which the Conductor walked, and the name Steam Locomotive adorned the first car. You wondered if he was in there or if his coach was one of the wagons close by.
The train was moving swiftly so it wasn’t bothering you as you thought it would. The closed curtains made you sad that you couldn’t see the scenery so you got up and extended your hand towards them, trying to perhaps see the machinery through which they were able to close on their own.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice made you jump in place.
“Mark!” you turned around and walked the few steps towards the door to hug a very dumbfounded young man.
“Hey, hey, you okay?” he awkwardly stood there even after you retrieved your arms from his neck and stared him up and down.
“I was so scared to be alone. It’s good to see your face,” you explained.
Johnny’s younger brother has been your best friend and the one you spoke about the Train Journey the most growing up. You were still ashamed to remember the way you cried for the whole night the time Mark told you his brother hasn’t come home from the Journey because he has found his soulmate. You had a very intense childhood crush on him.
“I get it,” he smiled then his eyes went down to eye your dress, then up, noticing your prettily arranged hair and makeup.
Then he sighed, almost disappointed.
Without realizing you touched your cheek. Did he think you were ugly?
“What?” you blinked at him.
Mark shook his head. “I just-,” he started then interrupted himself, a bright dust of red moving in towards his cheeks and ears. “I thought that maybe you could be- you know-sometimes it happens that even friends-”
You blinked at him then you felt your own face on fire. “Oh,” you realized what he wanted to say. The scarf you tied around your neck made it difficult for you to breathe.
“Well,” he scratched the back of his head. “I guess we’re not soulmates. That, of course, if you didn’t feel anything in particular either.”
“I felt relief,” you said.
Mark nodded, agreeing with you. “I was also just glad to see a friend.”
Was he disappointed you weren’t his soulmate? Or was he happy it wasn’t you?
“Same.”
The following silence made him clear his voice once then his eyes fell on the card in your hands.
“Oh, I got one too. I was wondering if it was a prank inviting me over for breakfast. I was going towards the Dining Car to at least check it out.”
“Right? I thought I was the one misunderstanding the invite,” you chuckled. “I’ll come with you now if you don't mind.”
Mark took a few steps back to let you exit the coach and his eyes fell on the window again. “My parents said that if you open the curtains when the train is moving you’ll be forced to descend in the first place you see. Alone. Without the possibility to return on the Train ever again.”
A shiver ran down your body at his words.
“There’s also a warning,” he indicated with his chin.
You followed the direction and noticed the golden plate near the curtains.
You could have sworn it wasn’t there before.
_________
The corridor was gorgeously decorated with fresh flowers and paintings. You and Mark took your time to peek into most of the coaches too, giggling a bit when you noticed some of their residents weren’t alone.
“How long do you think it takes for people to meet everyone on the train?” Mark asked, impressed that some were already coupled.
You thought about it. “The train stops in every town, doesn’t it? There's so many people. I feel like even a few weeks."
Mark winced. “That’s a long time. My parents met within 15 minutes of boarding. They had neighbouring coaches.”
“My parents met after a few days,” you recalled. “My maternal grandparents met after three years of trying.”
Your friend hummed. “That’s hard. I’d be losing hope.”
You swallowed the dry lump. “That’s a bit scary, yes.”
You didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid you might end up just like them.
The Entertainment wagons were about five, and you both held your breaths when entering the first as it was roaming with people. The strangers’ faces turned towards you both with inquisitive eyes, as if checking if one of you were their soulmate.
You bit your lower lip taking a few steps inside.
“What exactly do you think we need to feel when meeting the one?” you whispered as some people sighed and turned around, sign you weren’t interesting.
“No clue. But it has to be something,” Mark answered. “Maybe a sharp feeling. Awe. Even fear?”
“Fear? Why would I be afraid if I meet my soulmate?” you both walked slowly, staring at the board games people were playing.
Mark hummed. “Not actual fear. More so like the fear you get right before sliding down with a sleigh. It’s scary but you know it will feel very nice.”
The example made you chuckle and it broke some of the tension you were feeling. Then his words actually arrived to your brain.
Like the fear before sliding down with a sleigh…
…or the fear when you see a sea storm.
You shook your head and exited the coach to enter the rest.
_________
“I can’t believe there’s actual breakfast,” Mark repeated for the third time already, cheeks full with eggs and bacon.
You giggled, impressed by your own appetite so late at night. Or early in the morning?
“The train has different time zones than your town of origin,” a voice explained.
The scent came first and it froze you in place, the piece of banana you were about to devour still in mid-air.
Mark lifted his gaze to the side and greeted the voice.
“I hope everything is to your liking,” the Conductor added. When you put the banana down on your plate and looked up, he was already looking at you. His stormy eyes were slightly squeezed in an attempt to look polite. His uniform looked impeccable as usual and with his hands clasped behind his back his chest popped underneath it.
You forced yourself to look away.
“Yes, thank you. The train is gorgeous,” you said.
The Conductor smiled a bit more. “And I hope this is a congratulatory meal?” he asked, looking at Mark for a moment as well, who furrowed his eyebrows.
“Oh,” you shook your hands, realizing what he meant. “No no, it’s not like that.”
“We’re just friends,” Mark butt in, a bit scandalized.
You nodded fervently. “Classmates. From the same town.”
“Yes. Our coaches are close-by and we just found each other.”
The Conductor listened to one then the other, looking at both of you intermittently with his everlasting smile. “Well, then. I’m glad you enjoy each other’s company. I wish for you to find your soulmate when the time comes as well.”
You and Mark both thanked him and watched the Conductor bow enough for his eyes to get the same shadow you saw the first time you met him.
But he lifted his gaze to look at you this time. Slowly, letting his long lashes fan on his cheeks for a moment.
The pupils were very deep and you imagined yourself drowning in the almost black blue of his irises.
You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and look at his back as he walked away to greet other passengers.
You couldn’t even bring yourself to reach and grab the fork because your hands were tightly clasped together on your lap to hide how badly they were shaking.
_________
On your way back Mark got welcomed by his male friend group in the third Entertainment wagon. Some of them had new faces around and from their shy gazes, you assumed they met their partners already. Some were alone and in the mood to party.
Mark invited you to stay but you decided to go back to your coach and have some rest.
You wished to be able to party like Mark did. In the end, for him that was also a well deserved holiday after spending most of his days helping his father with the lands. Many thought the same and not everyone wanted to go on the Journey to meet an actual soulmate. For a lot of people it was a nice break from studying or work and that was it.
But you felt uneasy to be that free-spirited, and you needed time alone to understand what was going on. After all, you’ve been day dreaming about the Journey and the Train your whole life. And now that the desired moment arrived there was something off about it all.
And you couldn’t point it out.
You’ve never felt more relieved to enter your coach and see a fluffy small bed in one of the seats’ places. You sat on it and you also found it very comfortable. How it got there you had no idea and by that time you decided to stop asking yourself questions on how that Train actually worked.
The spring dress you chose for yourself was easy to slip into but quite hard to undo, you realized, grunting a few times as you tried to untie the light corset. When you managed to open it you exhaled deeply and you let it fall to your feet.
Then your eyes darted towards the warning sign near the window as you slowly got under the covers.
Curiosity killed the cat but you really wanted to know what was behind those curtains and why you weren’t allowed to know.
Before you could realize that you didn’t brush your teeth or wash your face, the train stopped and you opened your eyes in the silence.
“Thank you for traveling with us. I wish you happiness,” the Conductor’s voice was muffled outside your window and you remembered your coach was the first near the main train entrance.
Did someone already get off as a couple? Or was that someone who looked outside and was now forced to live alone?
You walked slowly and stealthy and you were about to turn the corner to where the entrance you came in was when the voices stopped you in place.
They were many, perhaps six different ones, thanking the Conductor and chatting away, making already plans for the future. Imagining you in their place gave you anxiety - after all they all met a few hours ago and already thought of getting married - but you were also glad they were all soulmate couples and not any forsaken person who went against the rules.
Somehow, you also felt a but envious that it has been that quick and smooth for them.
The Conductor’s back was towards you and you looked at his long fingers behind his back as he greeted the people away. His white gloves covered them and for some reason you wondered how they looked like naked. His waist was visibly smaller than his shoulders and the spine line descended so beautifully that you felt the urge to draw him, although you were no artist.
You shook your head trying to get rid of thouse thoughts and realized that in the meantime the chatter died down as the passengers walked towards the Station.
The Conductor was still outside, probably seeing them away for good before departing, and his scent was slowly engulfing you the more you remained in his presence.
You swallowed. How could a man smell that good?
Then you realized you had a full-on view of the Station so you squatted down behind the corner and tried to make sense of what was outside. That was your only chance, you figured.
“You know that’s forbidden, right?” the man’s smooth voice made you jolt.
The Conductor was still standing stoically without looking back and you let your gaze fall around as to understand who he was addressing, because he definitely couldn’t have seen you.
“Yes. I’m talking to you, Miss,” he turned around enough for you to see his relaxed expression.
You could see only half of his face and the only visible eyebrow was lifted in a way that made his gaze look- well, sexy, you realized with a certain degree of embarrassment.
You got up and took a step forwards. “Well, I am not looking out through a window, so it is not technically forbidden. There’s not a sign near the entrance telling me I can't do this.”
The Conductor turned around fully. His lazy gaze rested on your face then slowly went down your body and stopped on your nude feet. His eyebrow lifted even more. You wigled your toes in embarrassment.
“I forgot to bring shoes,” you mumbled, your burst of confidence suddenly dying down.
“And a dressing gown,” he added, his pupils darting back down to your chest and hips in the almost sheer underdress you were wearing to sleep. “And some common sense,” he added, locking eyes with you.
You crossed your arms on your chest to prevent him from looking any further. Then you lifted your chin in disdain at his last phrase.
“That’s not very polite of you. Gentlemen avert their eyes.”
“Tell me, Miss. What prevents me from grabbing you and making you descend here in this town with the excuse of you not following the rules?”
You gulped. “Common sense, of course. Why would you even do that?”
“Why not? Maybe I forgot to bring it with me the way you did coming here.”
You let your arms fall down in anger. “That would be very inappropriate and illegal!”
“Says who?” he smirked. “There’s no warning near the door saying I can’t do that.”
You bit your lower lip. “I get it. I should not be here. But you can’t push me out of the train. That would be barbaric.”
The Conductor stepped back inside in one fluid movement. “Usually passengers rest in their coaches or entertain themselves with the others in an attempt to find their soulmate. They don’t go wandering about.”
You dropped your gaze to his chest as he was getting way too close for your liking.
And when he unbuttoned his jacket, slowly, and let it slide off his shoulders and fall on yours instead, you visibly shuddered.
It was warm and big, and it smelled like him. Like that overwhelming flowery perfume.
You felt dizzy.
“I was just curious,” you whispered, feeling like a little child being scolded. But the Conductor’s expression was warm when you dared to look at his face again.
His lips were full and plump and you felt a tight lump in your throat seeing them move.
“Go back to sleep, Miss.”
His deep voice rang in your head the whole time you washed your face and brushed your teeth, feeling it incredibly warm. You let his jacket fall on the seat in front of your bed but as you slid under the covers you wore it again, and nuzzled you face into the material.
_________
In the morning, or what you felt was morning, you wore another dress you packed, a deep blue one you instinctively chose with little black flowers around the crown of it.
Some people were walking against you in the corridor and you could audibly hear them stop their breathing as you locked eyes.
They were wondering if you were their soulmate.
Yesterday you would have walked slowly and looked around shyly as well, but today all you wanted to do was to bring the Conductor his jacket back and all of those people were just in your way.
You were about to start pushing against people’s shoulders when Mark’s head pocked out of a coach and his ruffled hair made you realized he just woke up.
Not in his bed.
“Mark Lee!” you stopped in place.
“Fuck,” he blinked at you. “You out of all people. I mean, so nice to see you-”
“Did you find your soul-”
Mark exited the coach quickly and closed the door behind him. “Shh,” he was about to place one hand on your mouth but then looked at it and put it behind his back instead.
“Let’s not- do not say anything.”
You blinked at him. “Are you telling me that-”
“Maybe,” he interrupted you again. “Listen, people here are gorgeous. There’s no need to save myself for marriage or anything.”
Your jaw fell. “Mark Lee, did you just sleep with some random woman?”
He scratched one eyebrow. “Did I offend your sensibility?”
“You’re just some man, aren’t you?” you looked him up and down. “Whatever. Have fun,” you rolled your eyes and started to walk again. “And wash that hand, would you?”
“How do you even know-”
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” you turned around to quickly let your tongue out at him.
“Is that the Conductor’s jacket?” he asked before you could exit the car.
“No? I just found it around,” you answered quickly, leaving him behind with his questions.
The Conductor said you had no common sense but you had enough common sense to know that being seen around with his jacket would somehow be a mistake. He was the one who didn’t have the common sense to know to not send you to bed with it.
Lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize how far up the train you arrived and when the cars started to be empty safe for storage items you stopped in place to catch your breath.
It was very silent up there, the only sound coming from the rails outside and the steam locomotive.
You were close. And you had no idea why you knew that.
The walk towards the locomotive was slow and the spaces less fancy. Some coaches were on your right and you wondered if perhaps the Conductor was in one of them.
Or maybe you were stupid and he was way back in the train, doing his job.
When you felt like that damned train didn’t even have an end, in front of you a big dark door with a skull on it indicating some type of danger opened and the swish of fresh flowers made you close your eyes for a moment.
The Conductor’s head was tilted to the side as if amused.
“I see that this time you’re decently dressed,” he said, the his gaze fell on your chest. “Almost.”
You gulped and put on a brave expression. “I came to give you this back. Thank you.”
The man looked at the jacket you were holding and reached towards it slowly. His fingertips touched your knuckles for a brief moment and it made you so tense that you felt your head pulsating.
“You could have rung the bell. There was no need to come all the way up here.”
You let the air come out your nostrils. “You always scold me. You should be thankful I brought this back to you.”
“I am scolding you because you keep taking the most convoluted decisions instead of the straight forward ones.”
The informal conversation and the lack of Miss from his part made you nervous so you tried to look around his shoulder to see if any staff, or worse, the train driver could hear it.
Although you found his tone aggravating you didn’t want him to lose his job or anything.
“So you didn’t make me come because you were curious to see the Locomotive instead,” the Conductor added, seeing you snoop your nose around.
You straightened your back. “I was just trying to see if someone was listening to your inappropriate comments towards a passenger and a lady.”
The Conductor smiled and took a step to the side. “No one is here.”
For a second you forgot about him, the curiosity of how that Train actually worked exciting you more. “Who drives this then?” you stepped in and looked around the small space.
“No one,” the man explained and his breath caressed the back of your neck. When you looked behind your shoulder you realized he was staring at the goosebumps on your exposed skin.
“Why is there a chair here, then?” you cleared your throat and walked around it.
The Conductor wore his jacket and put his hands on the back of the big chair. “I like to sit here and look outside.”
You lifted your gaze towards the small window in front of you. You hadn’t even realized you could see outside.
“Do you want to try and sit down?” he asked.
You bit your lower lip. “Would that be alright?”
“I thought you didn’t care for rules,” he smirked.
You lifted your chin and sat down. It wasn’t much, just the railroad in front of you and some trees on each side. But it was peaceful and your curiosity got fully fed.
Now you wondered when it was the time to be killed like a cat.
“Why are you really here, Miss?”
The Conductor’s voice was so close to your ear that your spine curved. But you didn’t move away.
“Don’t-” you gulped. “Don’t flatter yourself or anything. I came here because I was curious and I had to give your jacket back.”
His index finger touched one of your hairs near the ear and you jolted in place, moving your head away. The man was smiling. He was holding a small feather that was probably stuck there.
“I hope you’re satisfied at all times, Miss,” he replied. “And I am here to make sure all of your future needs are fulfilled as well.”
That tone and those polite words were meant to be professional yet your mind went to Mark’s ruffled hair and half naked body. You imagined the Conductor’s dark hair on your pillow and his scent engulfing you all as his touch made your spine curve. And his hand, would he also use his hands on you like Mark did with his woman?
You shook the thoughts out of your head and got up quickly, feeling it hard to breathe in that narrow space.
“Thank you. I will leave now,” you voice was wavering and if he noticed it he didn’t say anything about it.
“I hope you have a pleasant journey,” he wished as you exited the car.
He didn’t mention anything about finding a soulmate this time.
__________
Your scent lingered on Haechan’s body the whole day.
It was in his hair, his nostrils, his skin, around his neck and his hands. He wondered if you slept with his jacket the whole night and the thought of your naked body pressed against the material of it made him almost knock heads with a passenger.
“Good day to you, Sir,” he tilted his hat last minute.
The young man barely noticed him, as his eyes were directed towards another person in the corner of the car.
Haechan was very acustomed to that gaze. He saw it every day for the past few years - the look of someone madly in love at first sight.
That was how your eyes looked like the first instant he saw you on the platform waiting for the Train.
Waiting for him.
He wondered how that gaze looked on his face but he was sure you didn’t notice it.
He wasn’t even sure it was there in the first place.
His instincts got the best of him and he worked on autopilot. Polite face, good smile, distance.
Hell, he even took the sign away from your windows for five minutes. But then you almost opened the damn curtains - as he intended for you to - and he realized he couldn’t physically let you go.
It was probably a mistake, he thought the first seconds of seeing you. He took the job of the Conductor because his old grandpa couldn’t work anymore. Haechan lived on that train since he could remember. It was always him and his old grandpa, in the middle of the swarm of people looking for soulmates. It made him sick to death to see all that love around him.
I wish you didn’t hate your parents for falling in love, Haechan, his grandpa used to say.
But it would have been different if they fell in love with each other.
But they didn’t.
The boy has been told the tale of his family of Conductors many times. It was a curse, they said. No one in his family had soulmates and they were tasked with assisting the Train instead.
How did you and grandma decide to be together then? small Haechan asked at the time.
Sometimes you just choose who to spend your life with. This is how your parents met as well. Your father came on this train often and never met his soulmate. Your mother understood he might be a good husband choice so she approached him and that’s how they got together.
But then dad met another woman on the train and left my mom.
The grandpa sighed deeply. He just met his soulmate. He didn’t do anything wrong.
Haechan as a child couldn’t know what to say to that.
He knew something was not right but he didn’t have the vocabulary to argue back.
But as a teenager he finally understood.
He abandoned my mom, your daughter, and he abandoned me. Don’t speak about that man ever again.
Haechan’s grandpa would only sigh and pat his shoulder. You’re growing into a fine young man. I am proud of you. And I am sorry that happened. When you’ll meet your person you’ll understand their choices.
I will never understand it because I don’t have a soulmate. And I surely as hell won’t marry a woman that might meet her rightful soulmate years later and leave me.
Your grandma never left me, he used to remind him. And I wish for you to have children. Who’s going to assist this Train otherwise?
To hell with this fucking Train, Haechan would explode and run away.
He didn’t hate the Train.
It was his home.
So when he’d calm down, sitting on the outside metal stairs and looking at the scenery no one besides him and grandpa were allowed to see, he’d realize he didn’t hate his parents either.
His mom remarried and left the Train after dad left.
Haechan wasn’t sure if she was actually in love although from her letters she seemed happy, but the memories of her time closed off in a coach on the verge of death were still haunting him. Haechan stopped reading his father’s letters altogether and started to burn them in the Locomotive.
A young woman approached him and Haechan shook off the memories and the convoluted thoughts about you from his head.
“How may I help you, Miss?” he placed his hands behind his back with the best custom service expression plastered on his face.
The woman seemed embarrassed.
“If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate to ask me,” he tried to reassure her.
She inhaled and took a step forward. Haechan leaned down to hear her better. “Well, you know how you said the coaches makes appear everything that you want? I was-, well, I met a man and- I know he’s not my soulmate but it’s not against the rules and we’re doing fine together for now and we were well, we were wondering how to make- how not to-”
“Get pregnant?” Haechan simply asked and the woman’s pale face turned purple from embarrassment.
She surely didn’t expect him to be that straightforward. “Usually if you really don’t want that to happen, it doesn't,” Haechan continued. “If you’ve encountered difficulties then maybe you or your partner have-,” he interrupted himself. “-a breeding kink?”
The young woman placed her palms to her cheeks and gave him a little bow. “I understand. I think I need to go now, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“You just have to-” Haechan tried again but the woman already ran away.
“I see I’m not the only one you’re being not so professional with,” a voice made him turn around.
__________
You were on your way for lunch. Or dinner? You lost track of time. You’ve been on that Train for less than 24 hours yet you felt like a lifetime already passed. To think you had to stay there until meeting your soulmate made you almost throw up.
“I thought you were very excited to meet your soulmate,” Mark commented that morning, eyes closed under the fake sun in the fake seaside car.
You sighed.
“I am.”
You were.
Or you thought you were. But somehow you lost interest. You imagined yourself inside the Train for so long that the moment you actually got on it it all lost meaning.
And how was it possible that none of the men looked interesting enough to even have a mere conversation? The only ones approaching you were trying to get under your dress and you soon realized that romance was not the way you imagined it to be.
“You don’t sound like excited. It’s as if you can’t wait to get off of here,” he opened one eye then turned to his side to see you better. “If you haven’t met the one yet, then what about enjoying it to the fullest until you can? It’s a place with free food and entertainment.”
You gave him the side eye. “I do not intend to sleep around with random men. I’m a lady.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “I’m also a gentleman and going down on people doesn’t make me less gentle.”
You almost spat your water. The Train somehow made everyone change or it opened your innocent eyes because you had no idea your childhood friend had that side of him.
“Did you really not find anyone who’s kinda attractive? You don’t even have to know his name,” he insisted.
Actually, there was a man whose name you didn’t know who you found very attractive. That was probably the worst part of that experience. Was it normal to be attracted to the Conductor like that?
You shook your head. “Nonsense. I will wait for my soulmate. And no, no one around is attractive enough.”
Mark exhaled and went back to his previous position. “I just don’t like seeing you sad.”
“I’m not sad.”
“Then angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You’re angry now.”
“Because you’re pissing me off,” you sat up. “I’m going to eat.”
You were already too confused for your liking. You didn’t need Mark Lee to investigate further.
The desire to have a soulmate was still there deep inside, the longiness and the need, yet for some reason you also felt numb to everything around you.
Still feeling like Mark rubbed you the wrong way you almost missed the figures of the Conductor leaning down to whisper in a young gorgeous’ woman’s ear in the middle of the Library wagon.
The woman seemed scandalized and so red that she looked like a tomato. The Conductor’s face was unfazed but a bit confused as she ran away.
“I see I’m not the only one you’re being not so professional with,” you couldn’t help but say.
The car was empty safe for the two of you and when he turned around you smelled his ever present scent.
It drove you insane. What kind of damn cologne was that man wearing?
“What do you go flirting with passengers for?” you crossed your arms on your chest. Maybe Mark was right and you were actually angry but seeing the Conductor’s face just added to the whole irritation, especially catching him flirting with your shy women.
The Conductor tilted his head to the side as if genuinely surprised but also intrigued at your reaction.
“What if someone else besides me saw you? What would happen to your position and reputation?” you went on.
The man took his time to open his mouth and talk. “I don’t understand if you’re mad at me or if you’re worried for me.”
You lifted your chin. “Maybe both.”
“It takes a good amount of care for both. Do you care about me?”
He took a few steps towards you and the closeness made his voice quieter.
You didn’t let him intimidate you with his charm.
“I was raised a lady of good principles and seeing the Conductor of a Train meant to help people find their soulmates flirt with its passengers is not appropriate and I have to speak on it.”
The Conductor’s smile widened. “And lurking at the time of descent in a skimpy night gown and nude feet is appropriate?”
His dark blue eyes were more stormy than usual and the moles on his face reminded you of the nightsky above you as you were waiting for the Train.
“Coming all the way to my coach with a dizzying cleavage is appropriate?”
His voice was so deep and close that you had to avert your gaze to catch your breath.
“Shaking like this in my presence and being unable to look me in the face is appropriate?” he whispered so close to your lips that you inhaled and took a few steps back.
“You’re also here to find a soulmate, Miss. Concentrate on doing that and leave other people’s business to themselves,” he added in his usual calm voice and walking around you he left you breathless and alone in the middle of the Library.
________
Haechan reached for his tie to undo the knot and he realized his fingers were slightly shaking.
Your scent made him more on edge than usual and the fact he could still smell you on his jacket made him unreasonable mad.
And your face and expression, your hurt eyes seeng him talk to that woman, as if you were jealous, was driving him insane.
What were you thinking roaming around him like that? With your delicate blue dress and your cleavage moving up and down in that damn corset with every quick breath your took?
He should have let you move the curtains and never see you again.
Haechan walked the distance from the entrance door of the car to the Bar and without caring about anyone he walked behind it and poured himself a shot of whiskey.
“Hard day?” a voice made him sigh deeply before turning around.
He forced himself to smile. “I am not in service right now,” he lied to excuse his drinking on the job.
The young man waved his hand. “No one would care anyway. They’re either on a date or uhh fucking.”
“Would you like one?” Haechan indicated the bottle, ignoring the man’s choice of words.
The other nodded. “I’m Jeno.”
He expected Haechan’s name in return but the Conductor never tells his name to passengers. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay,” Haechan said instead, pushing a glass towards Jeno.
The latter took it and winced after downing it. “I’m not here for that. I’m actually a journalist.”
Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes. There was one of two of them every year trying to gather some kind of hidden information about the Train. Haechan also thought there were some secrets about it growing up but it was a pretty straight forward thing. Just a Train in which you can meet your soulmate. Nothing more.
Well, that until he met you and your scent got under his skin.
“Is there something specific you’re writing about?” Haechan politely asked.
“Is it true that soulmates understand they’re soulmates because of each other’s scent?” he asked, and a writing pad materialized in front of him.
Haechan eyed his pen ready to take notes then his face. “You should ask the passengers. I am not someone who has a soulmate.”
“So it’s true that the Conductor has no soulmate.”
“Yes. It’s not a secret.”
Jeno nodded, not writing anything as if that wasn’t the information he was actually seeking out of him.
“My parents said there’s no such thing as scent. They’re also divorced,” he said.
Haechan sighed. Another young man hurt by that Train and his parents. “Sometimes people come here and go home together even if they’re not sure they’re actual soulmates. Maybe your parents mistook their union for a soulmate bond but it was just infatuation.”
“Shouldn’t this place guarantee a soulmate union?” Jeno asked. He looked very angry and Haechan could understand why. “What’s the purpose of this Train then? Let people choose each other on land at this point.”
“It’s called free choice. The Train knows who’s an actual soulmate pair and usually it doesn’t stop for couples who are not actually bonded. This is why the train is not stopping now for all the people who are- uh, fucking.” Haechan was too exhausted to choose a more gentlemanly term for that.
Jeno didn’t seem to care. “Then why did it stop for my parents?”
“They probably insisted for it to stop. The Train doesn’t go against the free choice.”
Jeno poured another shot, gave it to Haechan and took a deep gulp straight from the bottle.
“Nice chat, Conductor. Can I ask to leave now?”
Haechan kept quiet for a moment. “You should stay until you meet someone or until the Journey comes to an end. If you leave now you will not be allowed to come back.”
“There’s no such thing,” Jeno whispered and got up, walking towards the windows. With one quick hand he moved the curtains away. The Train stopped slowly on its tracks and Haechan sighed.
“Please follow me. I’ll escort you to the exit for going against the rules."
__________
Is it true that soulmates understand they’re soulmates because of each other’s scent?
That phrase has been haunting you for the following hours.
You were rolling in bed from the moment you decided to try and sleep after pacing your coach for a while.
You didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
You didn’t even mean to follow the Conductor but his pace was urgent and the curiosity still hasn’t killed you, especially after that heated conversation you had in the Library.
Shaking in his presence and being unable to look him in the face? He could see that? What was going on and why were you feeling like committing the biggest crime you could think of?
No, why was the Conductor with his deep eyes and his pillowy lips and his smooth voice the only thing you could think of when you were on that dam Train to find your soulmate?
The Conductor walked towards the Bar and you remained back in the smaller corridor, watching his throat gulp that brown liquid like it was water. Why did he look so upset? Was it you? Or was it his missed opportunity with that lady that you interrupted?
You felt stupid spying him like that and you were about to turn around and walk away when the voice of a second man made you stop in your tracks.
I’m actually a journalist, the man said and you wondered what the Conductor would say back. Would he accept to give the journalist information?
Is it true that soulmates understand they’re soulmates because of each other’s scent? You felt your blood turn to ice. What did he mean by that? Scents? Your parents didn’t tell you anything about that.
But then the following exchange of information made you feel even worse.
You should ask the passengers. I am not someone who has a soulmate.
So it’s true that the Conductor has no soulmate.
Yes. It’s not a secret.
Mark looked like a baby chick with his hair ruffled around his face. But you could tell it was from simple sleeping and not messing around with someone’s daughter’s insides.
You pushed him back into his coach after he opened the door and you sat down.
“Wow, when I told you to look around and decide who to fuck I didn’t think that someone would be-”
You interrupted him. “Mark, tell me everything you know about the Train, soulmates, and-” you stopped for a second, “the Conductor.”
Mark blinked hard as if unable to keep his eyes open and laid back in his bed. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Actually I’ve been trying to keep track of the time and it should be middle of the afternoon.”
“Well, everything here is fucked and for me it’s middle of the night. Why are you so curious all of a sudden?”
You sighed and relaxed in the dark red velvety couch. “Have you ever heard of people feeling their soulmate’s scent more that other people’s?”
Mark hummed, one hand to scratch his forehead. “Yes. Johnny talked about it but at the time I thought it was something stupid people in love notice about each other. He said his partner smelled like patchouli and warm spices.”
You lifted your legs up to warm them under your night gown. “And your parents?”
“Dad said mom smells like lavender and mom said dad smells like woody herbal amber or something like that,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
He then opened his eyes and got up to sit, mirroring you. “Why? Did you meet someone whose scent is intense for you?”
You wondered if telling him the truth. “No, I just-” you played with a loose string along the hem of your gown, “I overheard a man talking about his parents never mentioning any scent and they’re divorced now.”
Mark leaned forwards. “Are you worried that your parents are not real soulmates since they also never mentioned scents?”
Actually that didn’t even cross your head but you realized that might be a possibility. You didn’t want your parents to divorce or anything.
“Oh, come on. I’m sure that’s not the case at all,” Mark came to sit beside you and wrapped your shoulders with his arms. You weren’t there because of your parents but Mark felt warm and comfortable to lean on so you didn’t correct him.
“What about the Conductor?” he then asked and you hoped he couldn’t feel the way you tensioned in his hold. “What did you want to know?”
You gulped and sat straight, letting Mark’s arms fall to your waist instead. “I’ve heard he doesn't have a soulmate.”
Mark nodded. “I’ve heard that too. Honestly I thought he would be some kind of very ancient man. At least, my parents said he’s very old, but maybe this is a new one.”
You kept quiet, biting your lower lip.
“What is it that you’re not telling me?” Mark whispered.
You lifted your gaze and his big sparkly eyes gave you the courage to open your mouth.
“If the Conductor has no soulmate, and soulmates feel each other’s scent, then why do I feel the Conductor’s scent everywhere I go?”
________
After Mark collected his jaw from the floor and you kept him up brainstorming the whole night, you met both early in the morning over breakfast to further discuss the possibility of you and the Conductor being soulmates.
“Not to put you down or anything,” he repeated, “but I’ve never heard of anyone bonding with the Conductor.”
You sighed staring down your coffee with no desire to drink it but knowing it would wake you up.
“I know, Mark, this is why I’m so dumbfounded.”
“I mean, also the original Conductor was a mummy of an old man. Maybe that’s why no one bonded with him. Maybe he was married already and that's how the rumour of him not having a soulmate started.”
You had a sip of the bitter liquid and winced. You were glad Mark was playing devil’s advocate with himself because you had no more force to discuss all the different points of view.
“I don’t even think it matters. He warned me multiple times to leave him alone and find a soulmate. How would being soulmates with him even work? Where would the Train stop? Would I be forced to stay here? Being the Conductress? Forever?” you felt like descending into madness.
“Listen, calm down. I think the solution is to check it myself first. We find him, I smell him. If it’s just his high quality cologne then you can put your mind at ease.”
You didn’t want to ask what would happen if he couldn’t smell anything but maybe your desperate eyes told him your feelings because he sighed.
“And if I don’t smell anything, I try to rizz him up and I’ll be like dang you look like you know your cologne. Can you show me your collection? And I go to his coach and I smell all of the bottles and if it’s any of them we know it’s just his perfume and not his actual scent.”
You opened your mouth.
“And-” he interrupted lifting one finger, “if it’s none of them then we will come back here and brainstorm together. He’s an attractive man. Maybe you’re just sexually attracted to him. I bet that if you tried and fucked-”
“I will not fuck the Conductor,” you said, perhaps too loudly. You both looked around.
You lowered your voice. “I don’t know what’s going on but having that kind of relation with him doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
Mark leaned back in his chair. “Okay then. I’ll start by going on with my plan then we’ll see.”
You exhaled and nodded once. “That sounds like such a stupid plan.”
Mark’s smile widened. “At least something fun is happening in this stupid Train besides drinking and sleeping around.”
________
Haechan finished his morning routine walk across all wagons and sighed looking at his pocket watch. Soon everyone would be done with breakfast and would go about their business. He had to go and assist in the enternatinment wagons in some time as well.
Then he felt a pair of eyes on his back and lifted one eyebrow.
“What can I do for you, sir?” he turned around to see your little friend fake confidence leaning on a wall.
If Haechan didn’t know better he’d think the young man was trying to flirt.
“Oh, hello there Conductor. Or maybe I should say-” Mark stopped his phrase as if waiting for Haechan to say his name.
“Conductor is fine,” he smiled, joining his gloved hands together in front of him.
“Right right. I will not push any boundaries. I was just wondering, like from a gentleman to another gentleman, if you can aid me choosing a cologne.”
Whatever Haechan expected that man to say it wasn’t that.
He had to suppress a laugh.
“A cologne, sir?”
Mark walked around him casually. “I mean, I am here to meet a soulmate and I thought damn what if I don’t smell good? That’s my biggest fear actually, you know?” he put his hand on the chest to convey how intensely he felt about not smelling good.
“When you’ll meet your soulmate, sir, they will think you smell like their favourite scent, so no need to worry.”
Mark stopped in his tracks and his stupid fake expression fell. “You said soulmates smell like their favourite scents just now?”
Haechan exhaled. “That’s what I said, sir.” He really hated repeating himself.
Mark kept looking at him so Haechan was about to excuse himself and bid the weird man farewell but then the awareness of his behaviour washed over him like a cold wave and he stopped in place.
Haechan lifted his gaze and met Mark’s intense black eyes.
“Are you not curious why I am asking you about scents, Mister Conductor?” his voice suddenly became lower.
“I am not a curious man, sir,” Haechan straightened his tie with the intention of leaving. He didn’t like where all of that was going.
But Mark took a step to the side, blocking his way.
“So what’s your favourite scent?”
Haechan fought the urge to grab the dude and physically move him away. “I like clean and fresh scents, sir.”
“And what does Y/N smell like?”
Haechan put his tongue in the cheek and flared his nostrils. “I wouldn’t know.”
_________
Mark thought about keeping this all a secret from you. Being soulmates with the Conductor of the Soulmates Train didn’t sound like a great time. It was like falling in love with Death when it comes to kill you. But he wasn’t going to be a bad friend.
He told you to wait in the Seaside wagon in hopes you could relax hearing the sea waves, but when he entered he found you fidgeting instead.
“How did it go?” you walked up to him but he exhaled and dragged you towards the lounge chairs.
He didn’t know what you wanted to hear, if confirmation that the Conductor was your soulmate, or if you wanted nothing to do with him.
“First of all, he doesn’t smell like anything to me,” Mark said. “He just has a normal clean person scent. Like any other person.”
You swallowed and inhaled shakily, letting the information sink in.
“Second of all, he said soulmates smell like each other’s favourite scents.”
You opened your mouth but nothing came out of it.
“What does he smell like to you, Y/N? Is it flowers?”
Mark knew you’ve always loved that scent. The sweet but fresh perfume of flowers with their infinite colours.
He didn’t need you to answer, he saw it in your pupils. You watched Mark close his eyes for a moment and exhale then open them again.
“It’s not all,” he said. “He behaved weirdly when I mentioned you. I have a hunch that he can sense your scent as well.”
________
I think you should talk about it together, Mark suggested, but you couldn’t just do that, could you? He was the Conductor after all. Such thing was impossible.
Also, for how much you loved Mark, risking such improper behaviour only because of a hunch was too much for you.
You thought you were afraid of not finding a soulmate. Growing up that has been your everlasting fear; yet your brain has never even taken into consideration the perspective of finding your soulmate in a man you could not have.
For how much you’ve been wanting to see him, bump into him, or exchange a few stupid words to each other in the past days, your felt the same equal amount of desire to avoid him at all costs.
You thought you wanted Mark to come back and tell you that it was just the Conductor’s overbearing cologne. You wanted him to say he smelt it too and that is confirmation that he couldn’t possibly be your soulmate.
Yet when he fed your idea that the Conductor might be your man the relief was so intense that you almost cried.
It drove you insane.
The following days you haven’t seen the Conductor once. Perhaps the encounter with Mark made him uncomfortable and he decided to avoid you as well. What if he though you were some kind of creep? He did warn you to leave him alone and concentrate on finding a soulmate instead. Was it possible to have a one sided soulmate?
Somehow you felt like that situation was all your fault. Maybe that was the death moment of the curiousity saying, because you kinda felt like dying slowly if you thought about any other man. Maybe if you didn’t go to see the descending moment, maybe if you didn’t sleep with his jacket, maybe if you didn’t go and find him in the Locomotive, maybe if you didn’t confront him in the Library, you wouldn’t feel like that.
Maybe maybe maybe.
“I know this is not good friend advice, but you could get your mind off of him by, you know, using someone else,” Mark shrugged, peeling an apple with a knife.
You sighed, pulling your summer hat lower on your eyes. The seaside car soon became you and Mark’s favourite. “You know what? Maybe you’re right.”
“You finally gave in my temptation?” he wigled his eyebrows.
“Yes. You’re the little devil sitting on my shoulder.”
Mark cut a piece of apple and ate it off the knife. “I can introduce you to some fine gentlemen.”
You snorted. “I saw the gentlemen you have around Mark Lee.”
“And? Are they not fine?”
“You can have them.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Do you want to have fun or not?”
“I do. But I’m not sure if fucking random men is what I consider peak of amusement,” you replied. Mark didn’t say anything so you kept going. “Although, I noticed that the light brow hair man is not bad. I think his name is Jaehyun. He has nice hands and a great smile. I do enjoy a good dimple.”
You expected Mark to laugh at you but he remained quiet safe for a little nudge he gave you. You sighed. “The other J name man is not bad either. He’s tall and he looks gentle like a puppy.”
“Uhm,” Mark said and nudged you again.
“What? You said I should sleep with one of them,” you slid away the hat to give him a venomous side eye when your mouth dropped open.
Mark was looking at you with a little tight smile and in front of you, almost covering the artificial sun of the wagon, was standing the Conductor.
“I apologize, Miss. I didn’t want to interrupt your- uh lovely monologue,” he tilted his stupid hat.
You sat up feeling your body on fire. Then you looked at Mark who gave you a small apologetic smile.
Your mouth was dry and you had no idea what was the appropriate thing to say to someone who overheard you talk about fornication.
His scent should have told you he was there, but maybe you got so used to it that you were feeling it everywhere, messing with your perceptions.
“Good day, sir,” you stupidly said.
“I was just making sure you’re enjoying your stay,” the Conductor looked at you first, then Mark. “From your conversation I assume everything is fine.” His eyes looked black in the shadow and the little line between his eyebrow looked like a crack in his otherwise perfect face.
You gulped and bit your lower lip.
“Just a precaution. I told this the lady that stopped me in the Library the other day also, if you remember. As a contraceptive, please make sure to strongly desire to not get pregnant, so the Train can take care of you.”
________
The fact that useless friend of yours ambushed him like that told Haechan that you probably felt his scent everywhere as well.
And you must have spoken about it in such a way that made Mark investigate.
It made Haechan’s fingers tingle and they’d tingle ever more when he’d slid them underneath his covers at night, and fuck his fist to the image of you until he had to push his face into the pillow to muffle his groans.
Everything was a mess and for the first time in his life Haechan didn’t know what to do.
The letter he wrote his grandpa asking for advice was still unsent, looking at him from his desk.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to expose himself like that to his family. His grandpa would be nothing but supportive.
I knew you’d find a partner. See, now you understand it. It makes sense how your parents felt, doesn’t it?
Because no. Haechan didn’t understand it and his parents’ behaviour still didn’t make sense to him. Also, he hated to hear others say I told you so.
But also, his family never mentioned the possibility of a full-on soulmate. They said someone random. Someone that couldn’t find anyone else. Someone who would accept Haechan as a second choice.
He rolled in bed, the stickiness of his desire still coating his hand. Then he huffed and got up to wash.
His desire. It was such a foreign feeling to him to leave him breathless.
Yet it felt so familiar that he felt like he could finally breathe deeply. It felt like things were finally right, like he was finally home.
That morning he didn’t follow with his duties thoroughly as usual. The Train stopped twice and he looked behind his shoulder to check whether you were there, in your skimpy underdress and nude feet.
But you weren’t.
He tried to ignore you for the past few days and apparently you were doing the same.
Yet, he could feel your scent in the whole Train, as if you’ve just left the wagon he entered.
He wondered if you felt him everywhere as well.
In the afternoon, he couldn’t take it anymore so he followed the trail. He would just give you a short look, something to further fuel his autodestructive night fantasies.
You were in the Seaside car, as usual, your dress ridden up your thighs on that chaise longue and Haechan wondered how could Mark concentrate on cutting that apple without cutting his finger when you looked like that besides him.
“I know this is not good friend advice, but you could get your mind off of him by, you know, using someone else,” Mark shrugged.
Haechan stopped in place. He wasn’t eavesdropping. You were talking loudly enough for everyone to hear. But he didn’t want you to sense him.
You wanted to get your mind off of whom? Haechan?
“You know what? Maybe you’re right,” you replied and Haechan tightened his fist in his white glove. The image of you sleeping with someone else suddenly appeared in front of Haechan’s irises made the seaside car look like the north pole instead.
“You finally gave in my temptation?” that useless fellow asked and Haechan has never wanted to have a fist fight with a passenger more.
Of course, he wondered already if Mark was your soulmate and you both dumb idiots didn’t notice.
Maybe that’s why Mark even inquired about scents in the first place.
But why was Haechan sensing your scent if you were taken and why did the Train not stop for you two if that was the case?
Could the Conductors curse be that cruel? Making Haechan fall in love with a woman he could not have?
“I can introduce you to some fine gentlemen,” Mark said and Haechan didn’t know if he should feel relieved Mark wasn’t offering himself for your entertainment or be jealous at the idea of someone else touching you.
He decided to intervene.
“I do. But I’m not sure if fucking random men is what I consider peak of amusement,” you replied right when Mark lifted his gaze and a piece of apple fell from his mouth on the fine sand at his feet.
Haechan gave him a venomous look and opened his mouth to interrupt your scandalous monologue.
But you went on. “Although, I noticed that the light brow hair man is not bad. I think his name is Jaehyun. He has nice hands and a great smile. I do enjoy a good dimple.”
Haechan felt his jaw muscles twitch. “The other J name man is not bad either. He’s tall and he looks gentle like a puppy,” you continued.
Mark had the decency to look scared.
“I apologize, Miss. I didn’t want to interrupt your lovely monologue,” Haechan finally said as you finally realized what was going on.
He came there like a thirsty man to have a single drop of water and you were thinking of sleeping with other men instead.
Haechan felt like stopping the Train and descending himself.
Your eyes were glossy when you looked up at him, maybe from the sun but also from the embarrassment.
Haechan felt like making you feel even worse.
________
Your gaze followed the Conductor’s spine as he exited the wagon and you let a single pained whine as you burrowed your face into your palms.
“Mark Lee.”
The poor Mark got up and away from you as if he could sense you might take your frustration out on him.
“It’s not my fault.”
You let your hands fall in your lap. “Now he thinks I’m a whore.”
“I don’t think that changes anything. You don’t need his opinion or approval.”
You got up with another whine. “He ignored me for days and now that he approached me again he overheard me talk about who of your friends I might fuck.”
Mark finished his apple. “Hey. Wasn’t that your intention? Getting rid of him? Forgetting him?”
You exhaled.
Yes, but why did it feel so bad?
_______
They all eyed you the following night - the first ball party of the season, the little card said.
This time the ink didn’t smudge when it appeared on your nightstand out of thin air and it didn’t look like it was written by hand.
One detail made you bite your lower lip. Wear masks, the card said.
The car that was hosting it was huge and you realized it must have been some sort of optical illusion to make the space feel so big. The center was empty and you assumed it was for dancing. Most people were standing near the refreshment tables or near the walls and the exciting but nervous air made your skin shiver. Everyone from the train was there and you realized it was the perfect moment to meet a soulmate.
With uncertain feet in your high heels you reached towards the drinks but the glasses didn’t move from the tray.
“You need to say what you want and the glass unglues itself,” the Conductor said and his long fingers appeared in front of you. They wrapped the leg of a glass. “Champagne,” he said and the glass remained in his hand.
You didn’t dare to look at him. “I didn’t know Conductors were allowed to drink,” you tried, remembering the time he felt the need to have that wiskey shot in the bar.
“How do you know I am the Conductor?” he asked. His voice was low but light and amused.
You turned around quickly to see a black mask, leaving nothing but an anonymous jawline and a pair of lips. His hair was covered by a silver crown and in his elegant suit no one could have noticed who he was.
But you did.
You cursed at yourself.
The Conductor leaned closer. “Is it because of my scent?” he whispered.
You gulped and looked away towards the drinks tray.
“So you admit it,” you murmured, wondering if someone was looking at you.
“Admit what?” he asked.
The crowd of people cheered and you assumed a new couple formed.
The intermission helped you cool your head.
“I don’t know the names of all the drinks,” you changed subject.
The Conductor didn’t seem surprised. “Which one do you want?”
“I don’t know. The least dangerous looking one.”
“Bubbles,” he ordered and then gave you the glass full of sparkly liquid. It smelled fruity.
“Thank you,” you said.
“Do you always go for the least dangerous looking thing?” he turned around and looked towards the hall.
Some brave couples started to dance and you enjoyed the way the ladies gowns flowed under the golden lights.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” he smiled once before taking a sip of his drink.
“Yes,” you took a sip of your bubbles as well. They buzzed on your tongue.
“So you didn’t avoid me because you were afraid of me the past few days.”
It wasn’t a question.
“You knew where to find me if you wanted to see one of your passengers. This is your Train.”
The Conductor let his gaze fall on your face. “I did find you. You were talking about very interesting arguments.”
You gimaced, thinking of the Seaside Wagon incident. “It was just talk. I did not-” you started to explain the you realized how stupid it sounded trying to justify your actions, or non-actions, to him.
The Conductor sipped from his drink in silence. You couldn’t read his face normally, and with that mask you really had no idea what he was thinking.
“Are you upset I didn’t contact you all of these days?” he asked instead. "It was my understanding you were trying to forget someone by engaging in those actions and I am self centred enough to think that someone was me."
His honesty left you breathless. You considered lying. Admitting it would have been too humiliating. “No. I understand why you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“Which is?”
“I look like a crazy woman who claims you’re her soulmate because you smell like flowers,” you blurted out before realizing what you just said.
Your hands in your white lacey gloves started to shake.
The man remained quiet for a moment then he chuckled. “Really? I smell that nice to you?”
You exhaled. “This is not a laughing matter.”
The Conductor analyzed your expression. “I apologize. I didn’t realize how this made you feel.”
His tone gave you the courage to look him in the eyes. Even behind the mask they looked alive, torbid like the dark deep sea.
But looking was a mistake.
“I suppose it’s something common for you,” you inhaled, starting to hate the everlasting flowers perfume surrounding him. “Women with soulmate claims over you, that is,” you explained.
The Conductor looked in front of himself and took another sip. “Yes. I am a charming man afterall.”
You hated him. Was he punishing you? Or did he actually not care about you at all?
“Well, I avoided you because I wanted to say I had no claims. Take this as a compliment on you smelling decently and let’s move on.”
“And what moving on means for you?” he inquired.
“Acting as normal Train Conductor and Passenger,” you took another sip of your bubbles. It started to taste too sour.
“Tonight many couples will make the Train stop,” he announced. “Would you like to see?”
You turned towards him and you locked eyes. “Does that sound like normal Conductor and Passenger behaviour to you?”
The young man laughed at your scolding. “I just know you’re curious.”
“Why would you be kind to me like that? Do you want to push me out of the Train as you’ve expressed your interests towards doing before?”
“I wouldn’t mind getting rid of you actually,” he joked and you could tell he didn’t mean it.
But the tears that secretly collected in your eyes during that conversation were close to falling to your cheeks. You left his side quickly but not before hearing him call out your name.
________
Y/N.
For some reason you thought he didn’t even know the names of every passenger.
Was that normal behaviour? From Miss to nothing to your actual first name.
He pissed you off.
He pissed you off so badly that the tears streaming down your cheeks were tears of anger, you decided.
“Oh heavens. Are you alright, dear?” a young woman stopped in tracks with her man.
“Yes, thank you, Miss,” you bowed a little holding your skirts. You wanted to get out of that car.
No. You wanted to get out of the damn Train.
Was it normal for love to hurt like that? Was all of that even love?
You had no idea afterall.
Everyone said you would just know and everything would fall into place. You’d have the best experience and make the Train stop to settle down with the love of your life. Then why all of those people felt like nothing around you and the only man your heart ached for you couldn’t have?
“Hey hey hey,” Mark stopped you by putting his hands on your shoulders.
You were barely seeing where you were walking.
“What happened?” he asked. “Did you see him?”
Bless Mark and his everknowing third eye.
You gave him a little nod and he pouted his lips, holding you into his arms. “There there. It’s alright. It’s okay.”
The people walking around you gave you some looks as they tried to reach the ball hall but you didn’t care.
“Mark, can you be my soulmate so we can go home and live together in a cottage?” you joked, your voice was muffled against his shoulder and you heard him chuckle.
“Actually-” he trailed off and you let him go, rubbing your eyes and finally eying the person on his side who was patiently waiting for you to calm down.
“I want to introduce you to my-” he added then interrupted himself again, looking at the smiling person with eyes you’ve never saw him have. “-the love of my life,” he finished.
________
Your coach felt like the safest place on earth and your cell at the same time.
After the congratulatory moments and after starting to cry again because you realized how happy you were for your best friend to have found the person he was going to spend his life with, the sad tears came along again as you realized that he was probably going to leave the Train that same evening.
We’ll come visiting often. Afterall I’m leaving my parents and friends behind as well and I want to see them again, he assured you.
You sighed and sat down on your bed.
The reflection the mirror in the corner gave you back made you jolt a bit. You cleaned the running mascara from your cheeks and laid down waiting for the Train to stop, trying to empty your brain.
The Conductor’s voice echoing in your head couldn’t let you fall asleep. Why was he behaving like that? Was he that cruel? Couldn’t he actual see what was going on?
When the Train’s rumbling stopped and you heard the chatter of some couples walking down the corridor you sat back up and opened the coach’s door.
Mark squeezed you in a tight hug then gave you a thumbs up as he passed in front of you with his luggage and, after some other people, you saw the Conductor closing the line.
He stopped in front of your door and opened his mouth as you locked eyes but then he probaby changed his mind because he closed it soon after in a tight line and followed the rest of the people.
You remained quiet behind his back and none of the passengers looked like minding having another spectator, so deeply lost in their partner’s eyes.
“Thank you for traveling with us. I wish you happiness,” the Conductor said, repeating the same phrase you heard him say that first time you witnessed a passengers descent.
Mark lifted his hand to wave and you exhaled, waving back, feeling tears prick your eyes as he turned around and walked towards the Station.
The Conductor remained there for the following moments and you somehow knew he did it for you.
“He’ll do fine,” he said after a moment of quiet.
“I know,” you simply replied.
“Y/N,” he turned around and you inhaled taking a step back.
“Don’t call me by my name. We’re not on those terms.”
The Conductor hesitated but then he took a step inside and the doors closed behind him.
Your gaze was on his shiny shoes so he hunched his back a little to make you look at his face instead.
The cry and the other events calmed you down by now but seeing his face made all of those feelings resurface.
You forced yourself to look at his eyes the way he cleary wanted you to.
“My name is Haechan,” he murmured straightening his back. “Would that make us be on those terms now?”
Your fingers fidgeted at the sound of his name and your lips fought the urge to say it out loud.
“Why?” you asked instead. “Why are you being mean to me?”
“I’m not trying to be mean,” he got closer to you and you took a few steps back again.
“I don’t want to be close to you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to be on first name terms with you. I wish for you to leave me alone if you don’t want anything to do with me.”
Haechan kept moving forward as you moved back until you hit the wall with your blades. He got as close as to rest his palms near your head on the wooden wall.
And when he leaned in and rubbed your cheek with the tip of his nose you forgot how to breathe.
“You smell like fresh cotton and linen,” he whispered with the most desperate tone you heard a man speak. It was so tender that it clouded your mind. “It engulfed me the same instant I opened the doors that night. You’re not insane, I feel it too.”
He straightened his back and looked you in the eyes. “The soulmate bond,” he added. “This is why you’re irritable when you’re away from me. This is why no one seems interesting to you, why this Journey feels boring. It’s not because you haven’t met the one yet. It’s because you have.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
“And? What now?” you didn’t let his sweet words sway you although all you wanted was for him to wrap his arms around you and press those pillowy lips on yours.
“The truth is I am as lost as you are,” he let his arms fall to his sides. “This is not supposed to happen.”
“I figured.”
“I come from the Conductors family,” he started. “Traditionally we do not have soulmates. Our people-” he stopped, as if unsure of how to explain. “-breed by choosing random people they want to be with. Sometimes the couples stay together. Sometimes they don’t if the person who’s not from this family actually meets their rightful soulmate.”
“Do you know of anyone who separated that way?” you asked although from his eyes you could tell that he did.
“My parents.”
You bit your lower lip. “I am sorry,” you wrapped your nudes arms.
“Are you cold?” he asked but you cut him off seeing his hands going to unbutton his outwear.
“Don’t you dare giving me your jacket,” you warned him. “It-” you stopped suddenly very embarrassed. “-was a lot to handle the first time,” you settled for, as drove me insane felt too much.
“I know,” he looked as nervous and for a moment it made you feel better. You also never realized how young he was. He was probably just around your age. “It made me feel a certain well, too,” he added.
You looked behind him and you realized your coach was just around the corner. Haechan let you walk around him and open the door, grabbing a shawl to put around your shoulders.
“Come inside. It’s warmer here,” you let your head peek around the corner.
Haechan felt too big for your coach, you realized, seeing him sitting on the deep dark chairs.
As if knowing to not give you any kind of temptation, there was no bed inside.
You made a mental note to ask Haechan how did the Train knew such stuff.
“I am as unprepared as you are,” he spoke after a while, resuming his discourse.
You knew that conversation was due to happen but it didn’t make you feel less nervous.
“My grandfather never mentioned something like this happen to me. He just assumed I might end up seeing someone with no soulmate. My grandmother was one of them and they haven’t separated. Although now I wonder if she met someone else and actively chose my grandfather instead because of some kind of principle sentiment.”
All of that raw information made your heart ache. You’ve never thought about the Conductor’s family growing up. You’ve never ever heard of people with no soulmate whatsoever.
“Would that be that bad?” you asked in a tiny voice.
His eyes were fiery when he looked at you but you knew he wasn’t mad at you. “Would you enjoy the thought of someone being with you because they feel sorry or because of a promise they made although they’re madly in love with someone else?”
You gulped and looked down at your hands in your lap.
“You think that would be our situation?”
The man didn’t reply. You took it for a yes.
“Or are you afraid I’d leave you after a while? Because you think you’re not my actual soulmate?”
“I don’t know,” he exhaled. “You’d think for a Conductor of the Soulmates Train I’d be more well versed in these heart affairs,” he chuckled bitterly.
He closed his eyes and you felt brave enough to stare at his face. You’ve never had the opportunity to see his features for that long. He was so gorgeous that your heart felt like bleeding and the thought of you meeting someone else that would make you feel more than that that felt inimaginable. The thought of him with some other woman felt even worse.
“If I can’t have you-” you started unable to keep your mouth shut. “I think I’ll just not have anyone else. I can’t even imagine-”
The man smiled and opened his eyes. They were the same deep blue that made you feel like suffocating the first time you saw them. “I am flattered you think this way now.”
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
“I love a challenge.”
He was pissing you off. You told him just that.
His laugh was so pristine that you felt a little smile bloom on your face as well.
“Then what? I’ll just finish this Journey and go home? Then I’ll see you next year? Does this make sense to you?” you tried to reason.
His story was so sad that it made your heart bleed but the relief that washed over you felt so good that it was making you dizzy. He was into you too. He could sense your scent too. He desired you too. You would not let him go away.
“Sounds good,” he replied with a tiny breathy voice.
You rolled your eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Then what? You wish to stay here with me? Forever? On the Train?” he asked instead.
You bit your lower lip. “Where do you stay when it’s not Soulmates season?”
Haechan sat lower on the chair and his extended and spread legs made you curse at yourself for finding that attractive. “I live on the Train. Always had.”
“You just stay here alone? The whole year?” you leaned in surprised.
The man shrugged. “I had my Grandpa before. It wasn’t that bad. And I don’t know another world besides this one so I don’t miss it.”
“Where is he now?”
Haechan looked towards the window as if actually seeing what was behind that curtain. He probably knew what was behind it, you realized.
“He’s living with my mother. He couldn’t work anymore as he was too old.”
You leaned back in your chair as well and lifted your legs to rest them near him.
Haechan turned his head towards them and lifted one hand, letting his fingers trail the arch of one of them making you twitch.
He looked at your surprised expression and his eyelashes were heavy on his eyes.
Then he inserted two fingers between the hem of one of his white gloves and took it off, letting it fall to the ground. Then he did the same with his other hand.
You couldn’t speak.
No, you couldn’t think.
His fingers were slender and his touch was warm as he caressed your arch again, this time making you fully shiver. Seeing his bare hands shouldn’t have made you feel that way.
“Haechan,” you murmured, maybe as a warning, or maybe because you simply wanted to say his name.
“Y/N,” he said back, taking your feet and placing them on top of one of his thighs. He then looked down at them, slowly touching your ankles too, going up as much as he could reach which was too much for your dizzy head giving the crampness of the coach. You could have sworn it wasn’t so small before.
You hummed as he reached your knee, letting your skirts fall to your thighs in the movement. And when he reached the clasps of your garter keeping the tights up you jolted.
“I don’t think we should be doing this,” your voice wavered.
“I know,” he breathed out, yet his hands didn’t move away and you didn’t push them away either.
They kept going up, over your skirts this time until reaching the back of your corset which was starting to feel way too tight.
Haechan slowly slid down between your legs, on his knees, as if guided by a string coming from inside of you. The view made you mewl and the thought of doing this with anyone besides him sounded abhorrent in that moment.
The first pull made you inhale and put your hands on his shoulders. They felt firm.
The second pull at your corset made you bite your lower lip and Haechan’s pupils darted to it.
“Haechan,” you called out again, this time softly, like a prayer.
“Yes, darling,” he leaned even closer to you, attentive to your expression and reactions.
The pet name knocked the air out of your lungs.
“If-” you swallowed thickly, “if we have to separate-, please, I want-”
Haechan patiently waited for more. His eyes, his fucking eyes, they were so deep, and his lips, so so close to you. You could have just leaned forward and tasted them.
You felt like going insane.
“Remember when you said that you’d-” you changed the route of the phrase thinking it would be easier but you stopped again.
Haechan exhaled and pulled another string from your corset. “What is it that you want?”
“I want you to be my first.”
________
Something inside Haechan’s brain was screaming that it was all a mistake, that he was doing something he shouldn’t have.
But Haechan has been a very good boy his whole life while everyone around him made mistakes with not a single worry in the world. Warm between your legs he didn’t care if he’ll regret it.
But hearing you he stopped, inches away from your mouth. Your heavy breath was matching his and your cleaveage still tightly restricted in that corset made him wonder if you could feel how hard he was against the heavy skirts of your dress.
“I need to hear you ask me again, explicitly, and I need to hear you say that you’re aware this might be a mistake and you might regret it,” he grunted.
You fanned your lashes at him with that pure expression of yours.
“I want you to make me yours and I am aware of all of the consequences,” you murmured.
Your tone and the polite choice of words made him want to scream.
“Please,” you added and Haechan couldn’t take it anymore.
He leaned towards you and grabbed your chin with one hand, tasting the tender skin of your neck instead of your lips.
You exhaled and trembled against him, your pulse beating so fast underneath his tongue that he wondered how plump and wet you were between your legs.
So soft and malleable in his arms you let him gently push you into the bed that materialized underneath you.
________
The Conductor’s eyes were so deep that they looked almost black. His body felt so good on top of yours that you wondered if he could let his weight down even more to fully engulf you with his presence.
You couldn’t imagine feeling such intensity with someone else. He didn’t trust you with your feelings but the moment his lips pressed on yours you were sure he had to be your soulmate or nothing in life would have made sense.
And when you finally slid your hands in his hair you found it was as soft as you imagined.
His wet velvety tongue on your throat made you mewl in ways you’ve never heard yourself sound before.
Then he kissed your boiling skin on your clavicle and when he reached the swell of your breasts you felt on fire.
“Hng,” you whimpered, feeling his warm and wide palms press on your waist and slide underneath until he pulled up to sit. He never stopped kissing your body, not even when he pulled harshly at the corset strings to finally undo it.
You gasped at the sudden freeing sensation and shyly let your arms up for him to drag it up and let it fall to the side.
He cupped your free breasts soon after under the thinner dress material and you threw your head back.
Not in a million years you would regret that. It wasn’t possible.
And when your back hit the mattress again Haechan finally kissed you, slowly, brushing your lips together first, then delicately taking your upper lip between his, letting you taste his bottom one. Your fingers deepened the pressure on his shoulders the same moment you felt his tongue nudge at your mouth. You opened further and timidly let yours meet his. It tingled all over your body and when he slid it fully inside your mouth you moaned.
You couldn’t breathe nor think. You couldn’t even move.
Was this the love everyone was talking about? Because you were starting to understand.
In that moment it didn’t matter what you two would end up doing. The only thing you could concentrate on was the ardent kiss and his hands on your arms, reaching up to slid the dress straps off your shoulders.
Then he touched the spot with his lips and you finally gasped, taking in as much air as you could, extending your neck in the opposite direction, giving him more space to fully drive you crazy.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured against your skin as you twitched ever so slightly. Your breast was almost bare and the thought of him seeing you as no one had before made your nipples poke the dress fabric until it hurt.
“Tell me to stop anytime and I will,” he added.
“I don’t want you to stop. Please,” you found yourself saying.
________
You were so warm. You were warm and soft and Haechan desired you so much that he had to bite his lower lip almost to blood to prevent himself from devouring you completely.
Insane, he thought, you were insane to ask him to fuck you like that, and he was also insane for going with it.
His cock was so hard that it was painful and he imagined you felt the same, so he leaned down and wet your hard nubs making you gasp so deliciously that he made a mental note to do it often.
The thoughts of that being your first time together but maybe also the last was banging into his brain but he decided to ignore it. Your little sounds were grounding him and the way your breast felt underneath his hands, overflowing between his fingers as he squeezed just added to his brain haze.
He was starting to feel feverish and if he didn’t ended up with his mouth between your legs soon he thought he was going to go insane.
Your hands on his shoulders made shivers go down his spine and when they moved to his hair, he hummed with your nipples against his tongue.
He wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to make you feel so fucking good.
And he told you, murmuring it on top of your skin, sliding down your torso and letting your scent and warmth guide his clouded brain.
Haechan took your dress with him and when he couldn’t take it anymore he lifted himself on his knees and dragged it up your legs, throwing it as far as he could.
Your chest was falling and dropping so fast underneath him and he took a moment to enjoy the view, letting his gaze caress you where his hand was, slowly from your ribcage down your navel until reaching the slit between your legs.
You gasped, the little O on your face making his almost growl.
“Have you ever touched yourself before, darling?” he asked with a voice he barely recognized.
You shivered and he leaned back down to shelter you with his body, his hand still lazily drawing circles around your plump and soaked clit.
__________
You tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck but he was quicker.
You couldn’t believe you were completely naked in front of the man you desired so desperately. Was that the cruel joke of the destiny? Giving you all before taking it away from you?
Haechan kissed your lips, this time deeply and rougher than the first. Then he breathed on them. “Answer me,” he demanded.
You melwed, unable to think. His fingertips were so delicate and gentle that they almost weren’t there, yet you felt them so well that you couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
“Only outside,” you admitted.
Haechan rubbed his nose against your cheek. “I thought you were a curious person. You never felt the need to know how it feels inside?”
You swallowed thickly. Not in your most depraved thoughts you imagined a gentleman talk to you like that. And you loved it.
“I was afraid,” you admitted.
Haechan hummed, kissing slowly alongside your neck then licking your ear. “You’re so sensitive. Were you afraid it was going to hurt?”
You nodded as a reply.
“Are you afraid now?” he looked you in the eyes, his fingertips never stopping for a moment.
“No,” you whispered.
Haechan’s wet lips were open as if to let more air get inside his lungs and the thought of you being the cause to that decadent expression made the wetness between your legs just get worse.
You bit your lower lip, wondering if he noticed and when he dropped his hand by a mere centimeter you could feel his finger nudge at your hole and collect every drop of it.
You closed your eyes in embarrassment, clasping the material of his shirt on his bicep, and it just made Haechan more eager to rub your clit in ways you never even thought of.
“Show me,” he said, his voice so thick and rough that you felt like swimming in it. “Show me how you touched yourself.”
“Please,” you begged unsure yourself for what.
“Don’t be shy. Put your hand on top of mine and guide me, love,” he murmured with a twinkle in his eyes that made your insides burn.
You let one of your hands slide down his arm and you reached the back of his hand between your legs. It felt so erotic that you felt like combusting.
“Yes, just like that,” he prompted you, his lips now back on your chest, gently biting the softness of your flesh.
You gulped and pressed your fingers on top of his, moving them in little circles you knew felt good. Haechan hummed. “Yeah? Do you like it like this?”
The little nod you gave him made him smile. Then it turned into something more ferocious.
“What about this?” he changed the movement, his fingers now gently flicking your nub up and down as well, pressing a bit more that you did it yourself, sending jolts of pleasure across your body.
“Yes,” you stuttered.
“Yeah?” he spoke in the crook of your neck. “Did you make yourself cum as well?”
You threw your head back at the sensation and his tone and his words didn’t help you feel grounded at all. “A few times.”
Or at least you thought you did. Because the way Haechan was making you feel didn’t even come close to the way you managed to make yourself feel alone.
“May I?” his words buzzed against your lips, so polite in contrast with the way his fingertip felt like nudging at your core.
You bit your lower lip and Haechan rubbed his lips on you as a in invitation to bite his lip instead. You inhaled and nodded, pressing your hand on top of his.
He sucked the air between his teeth and kissed you deeply, letting his tongue smack against yours in the wettest and most desperate kiss.
And when you felt his finger slide inside of you it felt so overwhelming that you clenched so hard he had to break off the kiss to shush you. “You need to relax for me, baby, yeah?”
You felt your whole body shake and Haechan kissed the corner of your mouth then your cheek, doing on your jaw and neck.
“It’s going to feel very good, I promise,” he murmured against your clavicle. “That’s right,” he exhaled, feeling your melt in his hold. “My sweet sweet girl, just like that.”
The praise went to your head so badly that you almost didn’t realize the way he managed to move inside and out of you slowly and when he reached a specific spot and curled his finger upwards you jolted in place, grabbing his shoulders with a strong grip, the moan that escaped your throat probably loud enough to wake up the neighbouring passengers.
“You like that, darling?” Haechan kept fucking you on his finger until you couldn’t close your mouth, the sensation sending the most intense jolts of electricity up your legs and torso.
“Fuck,” you exhaled and Haechan chuckled.
“Yeah? My lady became this dirty for me?”
“Shit,” you couldn’t stop yourself. “Oh, heavens.”
The wet sounds and Haechan’s quick breaths made you curl your toes, and when he stopped his hand and you felt his finger exit you mewled a protest.
“More, please?”
Haechan gave you a cocky smile, lifting himself on his knees in front of you and letting you stare at the way he took off his jacket then slowly, so fucking slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt.
His pristine skin peeking underneath the white fabric made your mouth water and you had to sit down as well, leaning in and pressing your lips on his chest.
________
Haechan exhaled and cupped the back of your head and when he felt your delicate fingers open the rest of his buttons he thought he’d cum on the spot.
Your touch was heaven on his chest and your lips started to get too low, very low, down his abdomen until reaching the band of his dress pants.
Your ass was full on display the way your were crouching on all fours and when you lifted your gaze up, your mouth so close to the tip of his clothed cock, he reached and gave you a light spank that made your eyes shine and your tender throat mewl.
He desperately wanted his cock down that throat but he knew it would be insanity.
So he grabbed your chin instead and pulled you upwards to kiss your mouth again, and this time when he pushed you into the mattress he didn’t care to be gentle.
The grunt that left your chest made him worried that he had been too harsh but the way your grabbed his hair and pulled him into the kiss again, wrapping your thighs around his waist told him you weren’t a porcelain doll.
And when he left your gasping mouth to devour your cunt the moan you made and the way your body curved almost broke him.
“Haechan,” you called out and he has never heard someone pronounce his name in a sexier way.
He hummed back, deeply, licking a stripe up from your hole to your clit and resting on it heavily before rolling the tip around it, tasting you, flicking it until he felt your nails dig in the forearm he snaked around one of your thighs.
He pressed his palm on your lower stomach and the way you inhaled deeply made him suck ever more.
________
Legs around his head - the Conductor’s head - and his mouth on you, his arms around your limbs and his scent all over your body, you’ve never felt more ready to die.
“God,” you moaned, shaking in his hold so much that he added more pressure on your hips and when you felt his fingers nudging at your hole again, this time two of them, gently pushing past the rim, you grabbed the sheets underneath your until you had no more strength.
“Please please please,” you mumbled, his fingers hooked in so deliciously that you couldn’t see anymore. You had no idea there was such pleasure out there.
Haechan hummed, almost growled, his mouth full of your and his deep blue eyes staring at you with such intensity that you just had to let go or you would go insane.
“I feel-” you tried, your voice rough.
The man let your clit go for a mere second. “Yeah? Come on, cum for me darling. Come on, my love.”
It was like a switch, his tongue back on you and his fingers stretching you so well that you could only bury your had in the pillow and scream, coming undone until the only thing you could hear was your own breaths and the gentle rumbling of the Train underneath you.
Haechan’s little kisses made your shaking thighs relax and you realized you were clasping his wrist so you let go with trembling fingers.
“My good good girl,” he came towards you, peppering kisses all over your body, his fingers still deep inside of you, feeling the way you kept rhythmically clenching around them.
His lips were wet and red when he reached your mouth.
You exchanged a deep look that made all the hairs on your body rise and when he kissed you slowly and you tasted yourself on his tongue you felt like pouty in his arms.
“I want to make you feel good too,” you whispered against his lips.
Haechan hummed and slid his fingers out, making you hiss. Then with his wet hand he grabbed yours gently and directed it towards his pants.
“Open the buttons,” he ordered and you gulped, sliding your second arm between your bodies and obeyed, opening them one by one and feeling the heat coming from his body.
“Now touch me,” he breathed against your temple and you felt like rolling your eyes back from the sheer intensity of that energy.
You looked up and saw the man of your life close his eyes and furrow his eyebrows almost in pain when you caressed his length from tip until base.
“Fuck,” he gulped. “Harder,” his order made you bit your lower lip and you added a second hand, grabbing it loosely and moving them both up and down.
Haechan wrapped your hands with his and you inhaled shakily at the darkness of his eyes. He guided you, making you squeeze more until his breath went missing.
“Like this?” you asked. He was hot and hard but so velvety that you were afraid to hurt him.
“Just like that, darling,” he reassured you and when you felt the drops of something sliding under your palm Haechan’s jaw clenched. “You’re making me feel so fucking good, good heavens Y/N.”
You picked up the pace, loving his sounds and his expressions and he groaned.
You wanted more. You needed more.
“Please, I need you,” you murmured against his cheek.
Haechan leaned in and bit down on your neck, sucking on your skin and the sting felt so good that you felt your cunt pool up again. “Say that again, darling.”
You exhaled. “I need you, Haechan, please.”
“Where?” he breathed on your open mouth.
“Inside of me,” you choked on air as he reached down and slid his cock out of your hands with a wince, letting it rest between your fold instead.
“Yeah?”
You nodded and gasped, feeling the heaviness on if rub against your sensitivity.
“I need you to stop me at any given moment of discomfort. Do you understand me?”
His tone and demeanor made you almost chuckle. He drove you crazy.
“Yes, sir,” you whispered and Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek at your choice of words.
He intertwined his fingers with yours while the other hand held the base of his cock to align himself with you.
It was so big and thick, two veins running down it similar to his forearms and it made you swallow dryly at the sinful thought that came inside of your head.
But you felt drunk and you didn’t care.
“I want it in my mouth,” you locked eyes with him and Haechan visibly crumbled between your legs.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth and pushed inside of you slowly making you gasp and squeeze his fingers.
“Mmmm,” you furrowed your eyebrows and Haechan stopped, leaning down to shush you, kissing your neck and guiding your breaths until you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him forward.
“Does it hurt?” he murmured, moving his hips ever so slightly, making more and more space for himself.
“It stings, outside, but it feels good, inside,” your phrases were broken and Haechan chuckled against your lips, giving you a quick kiss that you couldn’t concentrate on as he was getting closer and closer to the spot you oh so desperately wanted him to reach.
“It’s going to feel better soon,” he reassured.
“I know. How does- it feel-for-you?” your tiny voice, stuttering because of his shallow thrusts made Haechan dig his other hand in the mattress.
“It feels like heaven, my darling.”
You hummed and then gasped as Haechan felt you open even more, swallowing him so well that he had to compose himself before he could start losing it and ram inside of you.
“Does the thought of me feeling good turn you on, love?” he grabbed your waist, keeping you in place and finally bottoming out.
Your face scrunched and the moan you let out sounded like music to his ears.
“Haechan-”
“Yeah?”
_______
Your breath was so irregular that you felt not enough oxygen getting to your brain.
There were no words to describe how he felt inside of you, intoxicating, sinful, full, so fucking full, he was all over you, inside your body and mind and heart, you wanted him more and more, you wanted him forever.
You stared at him between your lashes and you hoped he could see all of that. You hoped he could understand how he made you feel and you hoped he felt the same.
“I know, baby,” he shushed you, his hips picked up the pace and he was heavy and deep, the sound of his skin slapping yours making you hide your face into the crook of his neck in shame. He let you do that and lifted your hand above your head, pushing into it as much as he wanted to push into you and couldn’t for fear of hurting you.
Your brain went to the image of him fucking you desperatly and animalistically, fast and with no worry.
You desperately wanted that.
You wanted him again. That couldn’t be the last time you saw each other.
No way.
“Haechan, kiss me, please,” you managed to speak between the gasps.
The man leaned down and kissed you deeply, fucking you both with his tongue and his cock, until you moaned into his mouth.
His eyes were feverish and his forehead shining with a thin layer of sweat.
You let his hand go to wrap his neck and dig your hands in his soft messy hair, not breaking eye contact until with no words you both orgasmed and you lulled each other’s shaking bodies to sleep.
Note: This is a supporting reference material of all the recorded powers and personal histories from Arcane and Arcane | Inizio. Both stories are in my Masterlist.
Name: Lee Haechan
Arcana Number: 01
Tag: The Magician / IL Bagatto
Class: Oracle
Ability: Chaos Magic / Dimensional Lordship
“A coffee shop in the lobby? The fact that this place even has a lobby?” Your friend lets out a low whistle glancing around. “Not to mention the amount of unclaimed Alpha real estate around here. So many bare naked fingers. What God did you save from immortal death in a past life to snag this place?”
“I told you, I’ve been on the hunt for months. It was worth the wait.”
“A new place isn’t the only thing you’ve been hunting for months.” One of her well-kempt eyebrows bounces, nudging her chin toward the line that’s formed filled with Alphas dressed in various work attire. “There’s no way you won’t end up mated living here.”
“I’m not trying to mate anyone.” You say uninterested. It’s true, really, you could care less to have some Alpha prancing around your new place, making a mess of crumbs and leaving remnants of his scent behind to ruin your peaceful atmosphere.
“You can try to deny our nature all you want, but your Omega instincts will handle your stubborn attitude. You just wait and see.” She says with a wink, leading you to start up another discourse over how you have learned to control your Omega’s feral hormones. A call of your name from behind the coffee bar leaves your lips parted, holding up a finger before her face as you stand to pick up your drink.
“Hold that thought, I’m not done with you.”
“Yeah yeah. Go grab your coffee you grouch, you need it.” She laughs teasingly, making eyes at a few handsome Alphas in line.
“This isn’t my drink..” You say, turning the label on the cup to face you. “Jeno?”
▶ ; very angsty; part of a series but can be read as a standalone; doyoung is rude; I don't remember the main triggers I'm so sorry; talks of violence; substance consumption; slow burn; NSFW at some point;
THE TRUST FUND BABY – DOYOUNG – This guy is everything a fraternity’s dreams are made of. He is always decked out in designer gear. Every. Single. Day. We get it, you have money and are probably a business major. He’s the most confident person in the room because he knows nothing can touch him thanks to mommy and daddy’s money. Humility is probably not something he practices very often, so don’t be surprised when he acts like he owns the place (and his parents might actually own the place).
Doyoung’s hand was tightly grasping the phone while he talked with his father. His designer button-up shirt was neatly ironed and looked good on his slender body, his hair always in check and his aura giving out the fact that he had everything under control. Well, almost everything.
“But father I—“he tried to speak, just to be cut off by his father’s voice through the line. He sighed, nodding while he still listened to his words. “Okay, I understand what you’re trying to say, but don’t you think I have to at least—“, but he was cut off again.
His mission to persuade his father into not making him meet yet another of the daughters of his associates was unsuccessful once again. He looked out of the window of his room, just to see his frat brothers preparing everything for the party that they here having tonight. His father’s voice was still talking through the phone, but he had already shut his voice out. “Okay” was the only thing he answered to whatever he had said, giving up on changing his father’s ideas.
Having the luxury life Doyoung was used to have, it came with different consequences, just like having to agree with everything his parents said. “Doyoung, you need to take private riding lessons”, when he was seven. “Doyoung, you need to know at least four different languages”, when he was twelve. “Doyoung, you should, and will, be taking piano classes until you finish high school”, when he was fifteen. “Doyoung, you will major in business so you can take the reins once we’re gone”, when he had to choose what to study in college.
He always obeyed what his parents told him to do, but maybe this was taking it too far. They were choosing who he had to date, and probably who he had to marry one day. The rage he had felt inside of himself was building ever since he wanted to drop out of piano lessons because he thought it was boring, but they didn’t let him.
Doyoung has always had different interests than his parents. Instead of horse riding, he had always wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle. Instead of knowing four different languages, he had always wanted to travel around the world as a backpacker. Instead of piano lessons, he had always wanted to learn to play the electric guitar.
But the stern look on his parents’ faces, and the threats of leaving him without a penny from his inheritance, made him too afraid to even think about rebelling against them.
“Doyoung, we need help with the drinks” Taeyong, one of his best friends on the frat house, popped his head through his door, making Doyoung snap out of his deep thinking. “Yeah—I’ll be there in a second” he nodded back at him, as he opened his wardrobe to change his clothes.
The fact that Doyoung was in a fraternity was also part of his parents’ job. His father was part of that same fraternity, and so was his grandfather. It was funny the day he appeared to apply to enter, because everyone knew whose surname he proudly wore.
At the end, everyone knew who owned the house where the twenty one brothers lived in and threw parties constantly.
He looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom. He ruffled his dark fluffy hair, making it messy. He took off the formal clothes he wore on campus and threw on an oversized t-shirt and some jeans.
Those were the times he felt normal. When they had a party, when he was around his frat brothers, or when he just acted like a normal kid who wasn’t drowning in money, those were the times he felt most happy. And he tried to seize every moment, knowing that the time was limited. Once he finished college, his limited freedom would be completely gone.
The loud music made your head hurt once you entered the house. This was the first time you attended a fraternity house party, and for now it wasn’t something spectacular. “Okay, but do we know someone here?” you asked your best friend, whose eyes were already set on every boy that passed by her.
“No, but we’re here to make friends Y/N” her voice shouted over the sound of the music blasting on the speakers, and you just shook your head. The Greek life on campus wasn’t something you were interested into. You always thought these people had too much money to enter a fraternity, for what? To brag about how much they could spend on a party for hundreds of people? It was ridiculous.
Making your way over where the drinks were, you felt a hand creep on your butt. Turning around quickly, you caught the person who was responsible for such actions. “What the fuck—“you shouted, and the boy in front of you just smirked, winking one eye at you. “If you ever touch me again I’ll make sure to chop off your hands, you got me?” you pointed an accusing finger at him, making his eyes widen at your words.
You felt your friend’s hands on your forearm, dragging you back. “What the hell was that Y/N?” she spoke, still holding you while you both walked to the kitchen. “What do you mean—he was touching me without consent” you shouted back, now very angry.
“What if you stopped being so defensive and maybe—I don’t know, let yourself loose a little?” she asked giving you a cup with some liquid you couldn’t recognize. Your eyelids had a heavy dark make up on, that contrasted with your eyes when you rolled them back. “I’m trying but that doesn’t mean I’m letting some spoiled brats touch me whenever they want” you spat back, drinking from your cup.
“I understand perfectly what you’re trying to say, yes” she nodded, also sipping from her cup. “But not everyone here is bad and malicious” she laughed back, and leaned on the counter next to you. “Do you see that boy over there, with the snapback?” she pointed at a tall boy whose dimples were showing while he talked.
“His name is Jaehyun, and I’ve heard around that he’s—let’s just say he likes to take control in bed” she nudged at you, a sly smirk appearing on your face. “And do you see that one over there?” she now pointed at another body who had a little ponytail and a wide smile.
“His name is Yuta” she spoke close to your ear so you could hear her perfectly, “oh don’t tell he’s the one that—“ you started to speak but shut yourself up when you saw her nodding in approval, a smirk also displayed on her face.
“Maybe this party is fun after all” you added, your eyes set on the different boys around the room.
Having a life full of freedom was something that your parents have taught you ever since you were little. You wanted to go and play in the mud? Go ahead. You wanted to paint the walls of your bedroom with your bare hands? Yes, of course, that’s a great way of letting your creativity flow.
You’ve never had someone telling you the things you couldn’t do, and because of the great example your parent were to you, you had achieved many things in life. Your passions changed constantly, but the effort and love you put on every single one of them gave off its benefits.
That’s how you entered college, majoring in art. Some people said that it was worthless to study art, what would you work on afterwards? They would always ask. But that’s not something you were worrying about, at the end, maybe you weren’t even alive by the time you had to look for a job. Living on the present, as you liked to call it, you almost never thought about what your future plans were, or what you did a year ago. That something you couldn’t change, either way.
After hours on the party, and maybe too much drinks for you, you were finally letting yourself go. Happily chatting with everyone around, laughing and flirting with every boy that had the chance to speak with you. You loved the attention, and the fact that you always acted uninterested made it more fun.
Walking back to the table where the alcohol was still, you tripped over somebody, pouring the rest of your cup over your clothes. “What the fuck?! You should watch where you’re going!” you shouted at the tall boy who had bumped into you.
His eyes narrowed at you, “watch your mouth” he threatened, looking down at your damp clothes. “What--? Do you see this?” you tried to take the shirt far from your body, as the alcohol was making it feel sticky on your skin. “Yeah I see—I’m sorry, maybe you should look where you’re going too” he simply answered back, shrugging his shoulders mindlessly.
It made your blood boil inside of your veins as you clenched your hands. The alcohol wasn’t making it easy to control your rage, nor the words that were about to leave your mouth. “Excuse me?!” the screech of your voice made him narrow his eyes. “I believe you’re the one guilty here, so I don’t understand the attitude”.
Wrinkles appeared on his face as he couldn’t understand why you were screaming after he had apologized. Some people had turned their faces to look at your wide eyes and head looking up at the mysterious boy in front of you. “Look, I said I’m sorry—don’t make a scene in front of everyone here” he leaned down a bit, trying to keep the conversation between your two. His breath hit your ear as he spoke and it made you shiver, which you couldn’t understand at all. Blame it on the alcohol, Y/N, the little voice appeared on your mind.
“I’m not making a scene—“
“Oh?” he smirked, and turned his head to look around the room. Your eyes followed his, to just realize that a lot of girls had a really angry expression on their faces and some boys were looking funny at you. “Look I don’t care—“
“You sure?” he asked again, now trying to make you even more angry. You knew it, just by the look on his face, you knew he was having fun. “I don’t know who you are—and I don’t want to know, but you should watch your attitude with people who you don’t know at all” you threatened him, you index finger accusing him. The black haired boy raised a questioning brow at your threat, and took you’re your finger. “And you should learn some manners, pointing at people? That’s rude” he laughed. “Look, you can stay—you’re cute, but—“he stopped, biting his lip as he looked around the room, “if you make a scene again, you will have problems” he was the one to threaten now.
The tone of his voice made all of your blood drain from your face. He had a stern expression on his, not a sign of emotion could be seen. And you felt fear for the first time that night. His aura was not something you were accustomed to, and you knew he was dangerous. Not gang member dangerous, no. You knew he was way too smart for that. He did not play.
His stone-cold eyes found yours for the last time before he moved, leaving you speechless and alone.
Your hand trembled as you were holding the brush. Your eyes were set on the canvas in front of you. All white. No colour. It was empty, just like your head. You took down your hand and placed the brush again on the little table that was on your right side. This has been the third day of not painting. And this project was due—twelve hours.
A loud and annoyed sigh left your mouth as you let your head drop back, eyes closed tightly. “What the hell!” you shouted frustrated. This has never happened to you before. Your imagination was wild all the time, the ideas had always flowed perfectly from your mind to your hand and onto the canvas in front of you. Then what the hell was happening to you now?
“Hey Y/N” Xiao Jun, your flat mate, entered your room after hearing you scream for the tenth time that day. You didn’t even answer back as he neared you to also look at the plain white canvas in front of you. “I see you haven’t really advanced anything on this project” he patted your shoulder. “And mister obvious appears once again” you answered laughing, making him smile down at you.
“What’s wrong?” he asked sitting down on your bed, his elbows leaning on his knees as he looked up at your worried face. “I haven’t seen you this blocked in like—I don’t know, ever since we were ten?” he laughed. “I don’t know I’m just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just don’t have anything on my mind” you looked down at your empty hand, and then at the white canvas in front of you.
“How long have you been like this?” he asked you again, and you avoided his eyes. Xiao Jun was someone you really appreciated to have in your life but both of you didn’t really—match on personalities. It was like day and night. Like the sun and the moon. Like water and fire. You had first met him when you two were seven year olds, on your first day of school. He had seen you doing all kind of crazy stuff and always tried to stop you before it was too late. Let’s just say that he was the—brain on the friendship.
“I don’t know maybe—two, three days?” you murmured, still avoiding his eyes. “Has something happened to you lately? Maybe something that had made you feel nervous, or scared or—“
“No!” you were quick to fire back, “I’m not afraid of anything, you know that” you answered standing up from your stool, taking off the stained clothes you always used to paint. He sighed as he looked at your naked body, changing in front of him. You were so used to his presence, that it was something completely normal. At least that’s what you thought.
“You know—it’s normal to be frightened of things Y/N, we’re all humans” he tried to speak calmly. “Yes, but nothing has happened to me lately, so don’t worry” you turned around to smile at him. His eyes were narrowed at you, he had never seen you being so defensive. He had never seen you so irritated and frustrated. You were now tying your hair up on a bun as you looked at yourself in the mirror, he stood up to stand behind you, looking at your reflection.
“Don’t tell me you got rejected” he smirked, cautiously studying your reaction. Your eyes widened and so did your mouth. “What! No!” you quickly answered, turning around to hit him on the shoulder. “What was that for?” he whined holding his shoulder. “Don’t be a pussy, I didn’t even hit you that hard—“
“Where are you going?” he asked as you were now taking your jacket. “Somewhere to inspire myself” you answered. “You’re going to get drunk on a Wednesday?” he asked following you out of your room. A laugh escaped your mouth as you felt his steps behind you, “Why? You want to come?”
He stopped to look at you put on your shoes, his body leaning on the wall. “No, I’m the responsible one, remember?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t make me laugh Xiaojun” you answered, still struggling to put on your shoes. “No but really, a class mate is coming in like—“ he looked at his watch with narrowed eyes, “—thirty minutes and we have to finish a project for class, and he’s a bit—“ he looked at the ceiling, trying to find the right words.
“An idiot?” you asked him, putting on your jacket. “No, he’s too much of a perfectionist” he answered, his arms still crossed over his chest. “Well, I’ll try to come after midnight so I don’t bother the business men in the house” you shrugged smiling. “This is also your home, you won’t be bothering anyone” he tried to reassure you. “I know dumbass, I don’t know who mister perfect is but I’ll be back home for dinner, and do you want me to bring you something?”
“I’ll text you later”
The sun was setting, painting all of your surroundings a deep tone of orange. You were walking for about two hours now, alone. Your hands were on your pockets, and you just tried to take in everything around you, from the buildings to the people. Nothing made you really think, nothing made you really excited. Instead of finding the little details that made your heart thump in your chest with new ideas, you just found everything to be plain and boring.
You sighed again and closed your eyes, stopping in the middle of sidewalk. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself, the only thing you could see with your eyes closed was his face. The face of the boy who didn’t even flinch at your words, the one who didn’t give you a second look before turning around after threatening you with simple words.
“Who the hell are you?” you whispered, finally opening your eyes. The golden sun that bathed everything orange was almost gone, the darkness of the night slowly falling on the streets you were walking on. Once again, it was unsuccessful for you to find inspiration. Your muses were gone ever since your encounter with that stranger, who unconsciously had turned your life upside down.
You dragged your feet slowly, not wanting to go back home to just look at the white canvas. Almost all hope of finishing that project for tomorrow was gone. Maybe if you just painted a simple—no, you knew you were not a simple person, and so did your professors. They had always praised you for not being conventional, for taking risks and doing it your way.
But this? This was something you have never experienced before.
You took out your keys and opened the front door, sighing. Maybe it was the best to paint something simple, pretty with great colour scheme. “I’m home” you shouted, announcing your arrival to your flatmate. “We’re in the living room Y/N” you heard Xiao Jun’s voice resonate on the walls. We are? You asked yourself, it was almost 10 P.M., what the hell was his classmate doing here still?
With a tired and annoyed expression you entered the living room. Your feet stopped moving as you saw the back of who you supposed it was Xiaojun’s classmate. His black hair and broad shoulders. Your breathing hitched and your eyes widened. “Oh, Y/N you’re already here? We were just giving the final review on our project” Xiao Jun turned around to smile at you. The boy sitting next to him turned around to look at you too, and that was the moment your whole world crashed down.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you grimaced when your eyes met his. His eyebrows shot at your harsh words and so did Xiao Jun’s. “You know Doyoung?” he asked you, pointing at his classmate. “Doyoung? So that’s mister perfect’s name?” you asked and moved to sit down on the couch opposed to them.
“Y/N—“Xiao Jun tried to stop you, but your eyes were set on Doyoung’s face.
“No” Doyoung stopped him, smirking. “Y/N, right?” he asked, looking back at you. You could just nod at him while your eyes travelled on his face, taking in every detail. “Me and Y/N met in a party my fraternity was throwing three days ago and we had a little—misunderstanding” he chose his words wisely.
“Misunderstanding?” you murmured repeating his words. “But everything’s fine now, isn’t it?” his tone of voice changed unexpectedly. He had used the same tone of voice he used on the party. His eyes were cutting through you and for some reason you felt small around him. Words couldn’t come out of your mouth and you felt your palms getting sweaty.
Standing up quickly you ran out of the room, unable to keep looking at him anymore. The loud sound the door made when it was closed made both men flinch in their seat. “Hey Y/N—“you heard Xiao Jun shout behind you. “What the hell is wrong with her?” you could hear his words again, confusion tainting them.
Your back was glued to the door, your palms at each side of your body. Usually you didn’t lose control like this, so easily. But he managed to make you go crazy with every simple word he muttered, how was that even possible? How did he do it? Closing your eyes, there he was again. His face waiting in the dark to appear once again in your mind, his narrowed eyes and sly smirk, he had made his way into your life and now it seemed like you couldn’t make him disappear.
With a deep breathe you opened your eyes again. You were safe. You were in your room. Everything seemed normal, it felt almost like a bad dream. Losing composure like that wasn’t something you used to do, why now? The white canvas was still waiting for you at the end of your room, it was almost as if it was laughing at you. How pathetic, a boy appears in your life and he does not only make you go crazy, he disables you to do what you most love.
Their voices could be heard from the other side of the door which you were still leaning on. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning so we can give it a final touch, is that alright with you?” Doyoung’s voice was stern, almost as if he was a parent scolding his child. You couldn’t hear Xiao Jun’s response, he didn’t manage to do well in front of people who were more intimidating than him.
“And—“ Doyoung’s voice made an appearance once again, “—I’m sorry for what happened with Y/N” a scoff followed next, “I thought we left everything clear at the party, but I guess she’s still pissed at me for no apparent reason”
For no apparent reason? You were fuming. Almost ready to go out and slap off his beautiful face that smirk you’ve seen so little times but memorized perfectly in your mind. But if you got out there and made a scene again, he would think he won over you and your little patience. “I’ll try to apologize the next time I see her” his voice appeared again, and Xiao Jun’s little laugh was next. Apologize?
You were so confused. What made him think he would see you again? Why did he want to apologize if there was no apparent reason to be mad? Why was he so obnoxious? With your hands still on each side of your body, you sat down rigid on the stool in front of that damn white canvas. Enough was enough. You couldn’t let a stranger make you lose control like this.
Taking a deep breath, again, again and again. You finally picked up the small brush and prepared all the colours you wanted to use. Maybe this was your mind making it all up, but if you didn’t finish this, if you let the frustration Doyoung has created win over you, it would mean he had won. He had won a battle he didn’t even know he was having with you.
“That bastard—who does he think he is?” your hisses filled the room as you changed your clothing into something you could freely stain. Xiao Jun entered the room without you even realizing. His presence was sometimes like a shadow. “I swear if I see him again –“
“So he was the one who rejected you?”
His words made you turn around in surprise. Your eyes were wide, and your ears were starting to get red because of the embarrassment. “Who said he rejected me?” you defended yourself, still mad. The smirk on his face made it obvious he didn’t need any more information about the situation.
Doyoung hasn’t rejected you. Has he? No. that’s impossible, you didn’t even make a move on him. He simply poured all of his drink over you by accident. But he didn’t give you a second glace, that’s also true. That hasn’t happened before, right? Was that the problem? Was it because he had completely ignored you as a woman? Was that the reason you were going crazy? Because a boy ignored you?
“I don’t know what you’re thinking about, Xiaojun, but whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it” you decided to let this slip by. You didn’t need his judging eyes on you. “Don’t worry, it’s not because of you. Doyoung’s too much into studying to even think about girls, you’re not the problem Y/N” he said before leaving your room.
Your eyes were still wide, the stained clothes you used for painting sessions were tightly wrapped around your hands. Your heart was thumping in your chest, how did he know what were you thinking?
You let yourself sit down on the stool again. Your shoulders were still tense, and so were your hands. You wouldn’t be able to paint if you were this tense, it wouldn’t work out. Closing your eyes again, there he was. Waiting for you to close your eyes so he could appear. “I’m going crazy” was the only thing you could say.
“Okay then—if this is how my mind wants to play games on me, let’s play” you whispered before picking up the brush again. If he was the only thing you could think of, then he would be the subject of your project.
The clock was ticking on the wall as you were waiting for your professor to finish with the lecture. You hated this, you only liked the classes where you could put on practice everything he teaches on the boring lectures. You managed to zoom out of the class again, thinking about nothing and everything. Your eyes were focused on the pencil on your hands.
You made it twirl between your fingers, your bored expression too obvious. People started to move around you and you realized that class was over. Finally.
“Y/N” the professor called you before exiting. You scrunched your nose, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you daydream in his classes, was he pissed about that now? “I wanted to talk to you about your last project” his words were firm as he looked around some papers. Your heart stopped in your chest. Was he talking about Doyoung’s portrait?
“What about it? Is it that bad? It’s my first time trying out a realistic portrait, I’m aware it’s not completely—“
“Will you let me talk?” he stopped you, all your blood draining from your face. “Yes, sir” you muttered quietly, too embarrassed to even look at him anymore. “I was going to praise you on how good it was” he spoke again, looking up at you from his seat. The surprised expression on your face made him smile back at you. “And I was going to ask you if you would let us include it into the exposition we’re making in two weeks on the gallery” he explained again.
His words entered your mind but they made no sense. Your professors had always praised you on your work, but it was the first time someone has asked you to include your work for an exposition. “It would be auctioned afterwards, so if you don’t want to do it I’ll understand”.
You couldn’t answer to anything he was saying, too shocked to think about everything that was going on. So first he appears out of nowhere, he ignores you, he haunts you in your mind, and now, on top of everything, he was the one responsible for you to finally have the chance to hang your work on an exposition? He really made you go crazy.
“Professor” you finally spoke after a heartbeat, “can I think about it first? As you said, it’s my first portrait and if it’s going to be auctioned later on, it would be a great loss for me” you tried to sound sad, almost as if you wanted to cry. His eyebrows shot up in surprise because of your reaction, “yeah, of course—take your time” he quickly answered.
“Thank you” was the only thing you said before stomping out of the room. Your legs moved quickly around campus, you needed to get home first. Talk to Xiao Jun. Cry out your frustration, and then make a decision. You didn’t even know why he made you so mad, you didn’t even know him. You had only spoken to him two times. Y/N, what’s wrong with you? The little voice inside of your head made an appearance.
“I don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me” you hissed back.
“Y/N!” You heard someone shout behind you, making you stop. Turning around, you narrowed your eyes to catch who was calling you out. Xiao Jun’s face appeared as he was making his way to where you were standing. But he wasn’t alone.
Doyoung’s strong tall figure was walking by his side. He was taller than Xiao Jun, but he was as slender as him. Both men were dressed up nicely, their hairstyles on check, just like their faces. They were the epitome of perfection. And that bothered you, a lot. “Where were you going in such a hurry?” he asked once he was in front of you, Doyoung silently standing by his side.
“Oh—home” you answered, unable to look at him or Doyoung. “Home? You never hurry to go home” he laughed, trying to catch your gaze. “It’s because I have work to do—another project” you tried to explain quickly, feeling too awkward to be around them. “Oh, what did you do for your last project?” He asked again, and it bothered you how talkative and quirky he suddenly was.
“I didn’t do it—I couldn’t concentrate”
“Oh, Xiao told me about it—was it because of the little argument we had?” Doyoung was the one to talk now, a big smile appearing on his face. As if he knew he had won. “What? No, no—I just—it was a very difficult project and I couldn’t find inspiration to… finish it” you lied through your teeth, feeling guilty to be lying at your best friend.
“Well, I’m sorry for that—and, if you’re still bothered about that… I apologize for my behaviour” he spoke calmly, his eyes never leaving your face, as if he was used to apologizing for things he believed he wasn’t guilty for. “I—well…” you tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come out. Well, this really did feel awkward.
“Oh Y/N, Doyoung’s parents have a gallery nearby—I thought you would like to go and check it out sometime” Xiao was the one to break the tension, trying to make you calm down. “Yeah that’d be—nice” you tried to sound friendly, but you still couldn’t believe how Doyoung apologized again. Why did he behave so differently? It seems like he wasn’t the same boy who bumped into you at the party. Perhaps he was drunk? No, that couldn’t be possible, he maintained his composure just like now, and the only thing that changed was his tone of voice.
“They’re also having an—“
“Look boys, I’d love to stay and chat but I really have to get home now—“you were speaking as you were slowly walking backwards, running away from them. “But—“
“I’ll see you home Xiao!”
When did you start running away from people Y/N? The little voice inside of your head asked. I’m not running away from--, but you were. You were running away from him. Why were you so scared to be around him, this has never happened before?
The way back home was filled with arguments between you and the little voice inside of your mind. Why did you even think about it so much? Why did he make you feel so uncomfortable? You didn’t even know him, damn it.
Home felt lonely without Xiaojun. Slumped down on the couch, you had your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you, mindlessly playing yet another episode of a stupid drama you decided to watch just to clear your mind. But nothing made you really forget about him. Were you really going mad?
A deep sigh left your mouth as you slouched even deeper on the couch, your head between your shoulders, a position that would probably lead you to have real bad back pains in the morning. “What is wrong with me?” you muttered out loud. Your phone was lying down next to you, you took it back up. No notifications. No calls. “Were did my social life go?”
Your mind wandered back to your room, where yet another white canvas was patiently waiting to be painted. Remembering back when you painted Doyoung’s portrait, you felt really frustrated for that being the only thing that your hands were able to transfer from your mind to the canvas. Your finished that damn portrait in less than five hours, that being your very first portrait.
The look he had the night you met him. That’s the only thing you were thinking about when you were deep into the painting session. His harsh yet simple words. The fact that he didn’t give you a second glance that night. How he threatened you. Nobody has spoken to you that way before.
The painting was nice. The colours were great. But it was nothing spectacular, why did your professor want it to be hung on the gallery? It had nothing special. You had hundreds of painting better than that one, and none of them have had that recognition.
Was it because you really let your mind do the work, instead of your hands? Was that even possible?
That’s it. You were officially going mad.
With a quick movement you sat straight on the couch. “I’m not letting that little fucker ruin my spirit!” your words came out harsh, resonating on the walls of the living room, mixing themselves with the sound that was coming out of the television.
The sound of keys opening the front door made you lose focus, turning yourself around to finally greet Xiaojun. “You’re back home?” you shouted as you stood up, tripping over your own foot as you made your way to the entrance. Your own excitement of having your best friend back home, someone to talk with about this damn problem that was eating you alive.
What you didn’t expect was to not only hear his voice, but the voice of that someone who has been tormenting you for the past week and half. “I’ll be ready real quick, just—oh, Y/N, you’re here” Xiaojun’s smile greeted you when he saw you wrapped up in a blanket waiting by the entrance.
“Where was I supposed to be?” you asked incredulous, totally ignoring Doyoung’s presence in your house.
His smile slowly dropped. “Well, is Friday night—I thought you’d go out” he quickly spoke as he moved past you, entering inside of the house. “Doyoung! Make yourself at home, I’ll be ready in ten” he said without looking back, directly entering his room.
You were left alone with him at the entrance. His eyes were set on you, his aura calm. He proceeded to take off his shoes, but you didn’t take your eyes off of him, narrowing your look at his every movement. “Look, I can wait here if you’re not comfortable with me entering—“
“No, you heard Xiao, make yourself at home” you quickly stopped him from talking, turning back and entering the living room once again. It was Friday night? Why are you home on a Friday night? You asked yourself. You were the outgoing one, why was Xiaojun suddenly going out on a Friday night?
“My brothers are throwing a party tonight, you’re invited… if you want to come“ Doyoung announced sitting down on the couch next to yours, trying to catch your eyes. But you were not having it, your own eyes glued to the screen in front of you. “Only if you don’t make a scene like last time” he scoffed under his breath, this situation was clearly funny to him.
“I’m good, but thanks” you quickly answered, making the tension between you two grow bigger. “Why are you like this?” he asked, his tone of voice still calm. With furrowed eyebrows, you maintained your eyes looking straight. “Well, you are clearly behaving like a little girl” he spoke again, now looking also at the screen.
“Who do you think—“
“You’re behaving just like the last time” he looked back at you, successfully catching your eyes. “But now you’re not throwing a fit, you’re just trying to ignore me… tell me, is it because I make you nervous?” the smirk on his face was showing up again, and that made you want to brush it off with a punch.
“What makes you believe you—out of everyone in this world, would make me nervous?” you laughed back, way too tense. “Well—I wouldn’t like meeting someone who knows how to put me in my place with simple words either” he showed a full smile now, totally opposite to his harsh words.
The sound of the television was totally muffled in your mind. You clenched your hands under the blanket repeatedly. “You did not put me in my place” you tried to sound harsh as he did, but it clearly came out weak.
“Sure”
The shrug of his shoulders really made you lose it. As you opened your mouth, ready to let out all kind of barbarities, Xiao exited his room. “I’m ready” he announced as he still brushed the hair out of his eyes. The tension between you and Doyoung could be easily felt, and Xiao noticed it quickly. “Um—Y/N, you’re coming with us?” he asked, trying to ease the atmosphere.
“No, those frat parties are too boring for me” the answer was simple, but it was directly addressed to Doyoung.
“I thought you were having fun last time, with all those men around you” he was quick to answer, a sly smirk on his face again. It made your blood boil, why? Because he wasn’t one of those men? “I haven’t been to any still, don’t spoil it for me Y/N” Xiao intervened again, already making his way to the entrance.
“Don’t black out Xiao, I’m not going to get you!” you threatened from the living room, only earning a couple of laughs from the two of them. “I’ll take care of him Y/N” Doyoung spoke again, and his voice was the last thing you wanted to hear.
And then, they left.
“Damn it!” your fists punched the couch underneath you. “How does that little fucker know what I’m thinking about all the time?” you asked yourself standing up.
Distraction. That’s what you needed.
You made your way back to your room, where the white canvas was waiting. “I have to clear my mind of him” you spoke softly, sitting down on the stool in front of it. The colours you wanted to use were ready, the brushes were also sorted out. But your mind was blank. “What now?” you asked yourself, looking down at your hands.
“Are you two going to cooperate or no?!” you screamed at them. “Okay—I’m really losing it” you sighed. Closing your eyes, you decided to be the one cooperating this time. “There’s no use to force things, right?” you spoke softly as Doyoung’s eyes appeared in front of you again.
You took the brush up. If this was going to be this way, you had to at least clear your mind in some way. You didn’t care if it was another portrait of him. You just had to calm down, clear it out, and then move on.
Doyoung’s head hurt like hell as he walked around the house full of people. The music was too loud, increasing the pain of his headache. His eyes were red and glossy. He didn’t have to drink that much that night, he was now regretting it. But he always did that after an argument with his parents.
“I’m not meeting anymore bratty rich girls father!” he had finally snapped that same evening. He was talking on the phone again, of course his father wouldn’t come to see him. They haven’t seen each other since the school year started. “Doyoung, you will do as I say” his voice came out stern, making Doyoung’s blood freeze in his veins.
“I believe that’s something too private for you to decide on it” he had answered back, ready to finally win this battle with him. He was tired. Tired of being thrown around like a rag doll, forced to do everything he hated deep inside. “Oh” his father let out a laugh from the other line, “don’t tell me you have a girlfriend? I thought you were too focused on your studies, maybe you’re not focusing enough, huh?” he had asked.
“What if I did?” Doyoung asked back, pushing his limits to the end. “Then you’ll have to end it”
His father’s words kept repeating over and over again as he made his way to his room upstairs. Everything was spinning around, he couldn’t focus his gaze on anything without the room turning upside down suddenly. “You will do as I say, Doyoung”, those words kept tormenting him for the last twenty years of life.
He finally arrived to his dark room. The sound of the music blasting outside was now muffled by the walls, the only source of light were the neon lights they had put outside on the yard. His body fell down on the bed on the centre of the room, his forearm quickly falling on top of his face, covering his eyes.
“I’ve been doing as you say all my life father” he murmured to himself, holding back the tears. Was it because he was drunk? Was it because he was frustrated? Was it because he was sad? He didn’t know. But all he wanted to do was to cry. He has never cried before, it was forbidden. Men don’t cry Doyoung, they confront the situation, his father’s words made their way back into his mind.
He had been building up the anger inside of his chest for the past years, successfully holding himself as a man, like his father had said. But what he didn’t know is that, all the anger he was holding inside had a date of expiry, and it may have finally come time for the bomb to stop ticking. It was about to explode, and it was about to destroy everything his father had created out of nothing.
“I’ve been doing as you say all my life—it’s time to change the rules of the game, father” he muttered one last time.
No tears were felt. He held himself together. Once again, he let all the anger build up just to let it all out at once. “This is the end, father”.
It was two A.M. And you finally put down the brush. It was Doyoung again. He was the one looking at you from the other side of the canvas. His dark eyes were the one cutting through your soul. You didn’t know how you achieved that look, but it scared you. Was it like that the last time you saw him? Were his eyes so tormented the last time you spoke with him? Or was your own mind playing games with you?
A deep sigh left your lungs as you kept looking at the painting. Have you really failed to see his real expression when you were in front of him? Was he really sad? You had too much questions, and all of them bothered you to no end. You shouldn’t be worried about a damn stranger, you should be out with your friends partying, not in your room painting a portrait of someone who seemed to be living a hell of a life. In a bad way.
Your hands trembled as you kept looking at him. Your mind must be playing games on you. He seemed calm and collected every time you saw him, he didn’t seem sad nor miserable. Why did you paint him like this? “This is stupid” you said taking the canvas and leaving it on the floor, leaning on the wall next to your bed. “I shouldn’t have done this” you spoke again, looking down at the painting.
As you changed your clothes you thought again about your professor’s offer. Maybe it was a good idea to expose one of your paintings, and maybe someone would buy it. But again, who would want a portrait of a stranger hanging on their wall? Well—there’s weird people out there, you nodded to yourself.
“I shouldn’t worry too much about it” you spoke again, now lying down on your bed, your eyes fixed on the ceiling above from you. “Let’s just try to sell it and ignore him forever”.
A week had successfully passed and it seemed like Doyoung visit less your mind. But Xiaojun made sure to bring him up whenever he spoke about something about his classes. How convenient for him to be his classmate.
“Are you going to come with me tonight?” you asked him as he entered the house, later than usual. His eyes snapped up with surprise. “Tonight?” he asked again, confused. Your heart stopped for a second, you were excited to go to the exposition in the gallery with him, but again, he shouldn’t be ready to go with you whenever you asked him to. “Oh—oh my god, the gallery!” he screamed, suddenly remember his mistake.
“Oh god Y/N! I totally forgot about it!” he made his way towards you, his arms open as he embraced you with his slim body. “Don’t worry Xiao—it’s okay, damn it you’re suffocating me” you fought against his arm to set free.
“I can’t come—I have a paper due tomorrow and I haven’t finished it yet” he apologized. The sadness in his eyes was clear, and your heart felt heavy of guiltiness when you saw him like that because of you. “Hey—look at me” you took his face in your hand to make him look at you, his eyes moving to look at you.
Your faces were close. Too close. Suddenly it seemed like you had forgotten how to breathe properly. His eyes were travelling from yours, down to your lips and then back up. The same pattern over and over again.
His arms were still around you, his hands still on your lower back. It was hard to mute the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. You forgot what you were about to tell him. It was the first time you both were this close without joking. His face was serious, and so was yours. “Y/N…” he muttered, and his voice made you snap out.
What are you doing Y/N!?, the little voice inside of your head appeared, an alarm going off. What was going on? No- no, this was wrong. Slowly you moved your face to the left, breaking the eye contact. “I should get going—“you spoke back, his hands falling from around your body.
His head hung low and he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt awkward, you could feel it. It broke your heart to see him like this, to know you were the one responsible for his hurt. “I’ll be back soon! It would be great if you left some leftovers for me, mister perfect!” you screamed from the entrance, trying to ease the tension that had built between you two.
“Yeah, will do” he responded as he made his way back to his room, without giving a second look.
Your heart broke every time you reminisced that time. That time when Xiaojun finally made a move, after month of you telling him to do what his heart told him to do. He had talked to you about this girl he liked. He had a beautiful smile, was a very outgoing person and her ideas were marvellous. He never told you it was you he was talking about.
Until that day. His heart broke when you told him you didn’t feel the same way. But he tried to cover it up as it didn’t make his heart shatter to the ground, leaving traces everywhere. It was sad. Damn it, it was like going through hell. He distanced himself a lot from you.
A whole year without talking with him went by until he finally decided to reappear again, telling you he had moved on. He had forgotten about you. Telling you that everything was like the beginning of your friendship. And you decided to give him a second chance, knowing deep down that he was lying. He was lying to maintain some kind of contact with you. But breaking all kind of relationship with him would be worse.
“Why do you complicate things so fucking much, Xiaojun” you whispered to yourself as you were making your way to the gallery. Your legs took you to the gallery as your mind was still occupied thinking about your flatmate, and who you thought it was your best friend.
Finally arriving, you saw a lot of people inside. Too much people for your liking. All of them would see your portrait? Suddenly your palms became sweaty. You entered the place and the anxiety in your chest grew bigger. All of their eyes would judge your painting? The painting of a stranger?
Your brows were furrowed as you made your way between the people inside. They all were dressed in fancy suits and dresses, all of them giving off that they had money. A lot of money. What kind of gallery was this?
The more you walked inside, the bigger the place seemed. You looked around the walls, all of them covered with paintings. You could recognize some of the paintings of your classmates, others were completely unrecognizable. But you couldn’t spot your own. Maybe they decided to not hang it at the end. Of what you could see, there wasn’t any portraits. No one had painted a portrait, it would be too strange if there was a portrait of a stranger hanging on this exposition.
“Ah, Y/N I’ve been waiting for you to arrive!”
Your professor’s voice made you turn around. His big smile was shining bright, as the proud look on his face made it clear he had a successful exposition. “I’m sorry I’m late” you apologized, your eyes still wandering around the walls trying to find your painting.
“No, don’t worry! You’re just in time!” he reassured you after seeing you nervous. “What? You’re looking for the portrait?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Yes—but I do understand if it’s not hanging, after all it’s just a stranger’s portrait and it would be weird if—“
“A stranger’s portrait?” he stopped you, a real confused look on his eyes. “What do you mean a stranger’s portrait? Y/N—that portrait speaks to me, his eyes… the hurt, the sentiment—honestly, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. I’m really glad you decided to risk it with a portrait, you haven’t done anything like that before” he praised you, which only lead to your nervousness to increase.
“Wha—“
“Come, let me show you” he said leading you to the other side of the gallery, “that portrait has taken all of the attention tonight Y/N”
“All of the attention?” you repeated his words, unable to believe what he was saying. He lead you to one of the walls were people were crowded around to look at the painting hung there. “I can’t believe someone could express so much in so little” you heard someone mutter. “The look on his face—this is real art” another voice said.
“Isn’t that the son of the Kim’s?” someone else asked. “I think that’s him—but, why is the look on his face so tormented?”
“The son?” you muttered, confused by that last conversation you heard between strangers. You arrived to stand in front of your own painting, but you couldn’t recognize it. Yes, you had painted it. Yes, your hands were the one holding the brushes. No, you didn’t remember him being that sad. It struck you like a lighting.
His eyes were red, just like in the party. His hair was messy, his skin was pale. It was true, the painting was talking to you. The painting was telling you how miserable he felt inside. “A real masterpiece, Y/N” your professor’s words made you snap out back to reality. “I hate to say this but I don’t think this is—“
“Great painting” someone said from behind of you, his voice too close to your ear. Your heart skipped a beat, and it seemed like the place became smaller with too many people inside. It scared you to turn around. To turn around and face reality. To face the person who had praised you on your painting—no. On their own portrait.
He stopped to stand on your side. His body stood tall next to you, his broad shoulders back and his chest out. He clearly had presence, and suddenly you felt too small to stand next to him. Too scared to even respond. “I never thought I’d see a painting of myself, that’s something my father would order—you know, just like the old times” he laughed, trying to ease up the tension.
“I’m sorry—this wasn’t supposed to—“
“What are you sorry for?” he arched a brow, finally turning his body to look at you, taking away the attention from the painting. “It is nice to know I’ve struck you like this, I didn’t know I had such an influence on people” a laugh left his chest. There he was again, making you angry for no reason.
“It may be a portrait but…” you looked at him, and then back at the painting, “clearly it’s not the same person, Doyoung”.
His expression changed, his face turning back to look at the painting. “I see the same handsome face”.
“No” you simply answered. It didn’t make any sense. The vulnerable, miserable, sad boy in the painting wasn’t the same egoistic, confident, rich boy that was standing on your side. “I took your face, that’s true—but, the feelings the painting is showing, I believe you’ve never felt them before Doyoung, that’s why it’s not the same person” you finished. Angry and frustrated.
He went silent. It was hard to breathe. His presence was still strong. You looked up to him for a quick glance, just to see his eyes fixed on the portrait, his jaw clenching and his eyebrows furrowed. He looked concentrated on the painting, as he was trying to feel what the painting was feeling. But how could a rich kid, who had always had everything he wanted, ever feel sadness? That’s impossible, you thought.
“You won’t feel what he’s feeling, even if you look at him for five hours” you spoke again, making his eyes snap back at you. He didn’t answer. You shut him up, completely.
“Son, have you found the famous artist who drew this masterpiece” a strong voice was heard from behind Doyoung’s back. His face was still stiff, and so was his whole body. “Yes, father” he answered, his eyes still set on you.
Your eyes widened at his words. He moved to the side, letting you see who you supposed were his parents. Doyoung was a living copy of his father. He was tall and slim, his eyes had the same almond form and the sternness of his face was also there. On his side was standing a woman with a beautiful face. They both were beautiful, indeed. No wonder Doyoung looked like that.
“Let me introduce you to the artist of my portrait” he spoke calmly, his eyes still set on the painting. But he wasn’t looking at it, he was thinking about something else. Finally he moved his face to look back at you, “This is Y/N, the artist and—“ he took a breath before looking back at his parents.
“—my girlfriend”
Your eyes widened. It was like looking at a mirror, their expression shocked as yours. “What—“you tried to speak, but words were stuck in your throat. His father still had a serious expression on, but his mother smiled kindly at you. “So it was true” his father mumbled, looking down at you.
“Why? You thought I was lying?” Doyoung answered back with confidence. It surprised you how scary that man seemed, and how brave Doyoung must be to confront him that way with his words. “So you’re an artist?” his father asked, his eyes looking directly at your soul.
The only thing you could answer was a nod of your head. “And that’s all you do? You live off your art?” he asked again, his tone of voice was no longer friendly. It felt like he already despised you. “Well I’m still a student—“
“But you plan on living off of this?” that last sentence was followed by a scoff. The situation was so surprising you totally forgot where you were, or who you were. You blinked twice before looking again at Doyoung, who decided to intervene. “No one knows what life holds for us, right father?” he tried to protect you from his harsh words.
But why was he protecting you if he has been the one to get you into this mess? His girlfriend? What the hell was wrong with him? “I believe there’s a misunderstanding—“
“No, Y/N” Doyoung interrupted, his hand falling on your lower back as if he was going to lead you somewhere else. “Please excuse my father, sometimes he forgets he’s not at the office” he spoke quietly, already turning you around to leave. “I’ll see you later, father” he finally said before pushing you to walk.
His hand was burning against your clothed skin, just the pressure of having it there made your legs feel weak. As you two were finally on the other side of the gallery, you turned around to snap his hand away from your body.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed under your breath, your eyes wandering around the full room. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you about the plan before executing it” he readjusted his tie, also looking around the room in case he saw his parents again.
“Wha—the plan? Maybe you should’ve started by asking me if I was okay with following the plan—whatever that plan is!” you hissed back, your eyes so wide they were about to pop out. “Oh, don’t make a scene” he repeated his words again, and your palm really itched to slap him across the face.
“What do you mean by that? You just introduced me to your parents as your girlfriend and we don’t even know each other!”
“We do know each other, we’ve talked before” he said back, his eyes now as wide as yours, as if he was stating the obvious. “Are you crazy? Is that it? Doyoung, you don’t know someone because you’ve talked with them two times!”
“Well you painted a portrait of me—I think that’s more than enough evidence that we do know each other”
“I already told you that’s not the same person I’m talking with!”
He took a step closer, his intimidating presence making an appearance once again. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, as you had to tilt your head up to look at him properly. “Look Y/N…” he started to speak, his voice low in order to keep the conversation as private as possible, “just roll with it for tonight—we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? Do me this one favour, and I’ll owe you one, that’s a real big deal” he nodded.
It really exasperated you how annoying he could be. “Why are you doing this?” you asked him, your eyes narrowed at him. “I can’t explain it right now—“
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t understand. Just like you don’t understand that your painting and the person you’re talking with are, in fact, the same person” he finally said, moving his body away from yours.
People started to move around, leaving the room where all the paintings were hanging. “Just act like you are my girlfriend, and we’ll see about it tomorrow, can you do that for me?” he spoke again, moving around to stand back on your side, his hand sliding once again on the small place on your lower back. The tension was so big you couldn’t even respond to his question, only answering with a light nod.
Both of you made your way another big room, where everyone was gathering around. It was time for the auction. Doyoung stood by your side in the middle of the room. “Are you going to bid up for the paintings?” you asked nervous. His straight face was impossible to be read, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Your eyes caught his parents, they were at the front of the room chatting with another older couple. “I’m not really into paintings but—“he spoke taking your attention away from his parents. The more you looked at his father, the more they looked alike. “—I’ll try to piss off my father” he finished.
“Why? That sounds stupid” you quickly snapped back. That was very rude for him to say, at least that’s what you thought. You had deep respect for your parents, the one who had raised you freely, letting you experience life to the fullest. “You might understand soon” was the only thing he answered before the man standing in front, next to one of the paintings, raised his voice.
“First of all, I want to announce how grateful we are, in the name of the whole department of art of the university” he started his speech, “of course, we wouldn’t have done this without Mr. Kim’s help and gallery, we’re also very grateful for that” he directed his words to Doyoung’s father, who just nodded at him.
“So this gallery is--?” you tried to ask, but Doyoung answered before you could even finish the question. “Yes, my parents own this place, just like almost the rest of the university” he spoke softly, careful to not be heard. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked incredulous.
“Oh, so now our relationship is strong enough for me to talk to you about my parents?” he grinned looking down at you, remembering the argument you both had just moments ago. Gritting your teeth you decided to not answer, he was wining this game again, and he was unconscious he was playing at it.
“Just forget about it” you murmured, just when the auction started. The first painting was sold for five hundred dollars, something you wouldn’t have even imagined, it was a painting made by a student, right? Who were these people? Why were they here? You kept asking yourself, as all of the paintings were being sold at a fast pace for really big numbers.
“Next painting is a portrait!” the man that was leading the auction raised his voice again, making your eyes snap ahead to look at your work. “I bet all of you recognize the young gentleman on this one” he laughed looking at the painting and then back at the crowd, earning a few comments and smiles back. “Okay, who wants to start this?” his smile grew wider when he saw hands being raised up.
“A hundred!” someone shouted from the other end of the room.
“Two”
“Three fifty here!” someone else attacked back.
Everything was going too fast for you to even proceed all of the information. They were going to pay so much money for a simple portrait?
“A thousand!” a strong voice appeared from the front of the crowd. You recognized that voice from your first encounter. The look on his face was the same animals had on when they were on a hunt. It was scary. “I double it!” Doyoung shouted from your side, making your eyes grow wide.
“What?! Two thousand for that simple portrait?! Doyoung are you crazy?!” you hissed at him, your palms sweaty. His eyes were on his father. It was obvious they were on an internal fight, and none of them wanted to lose. “Two and five hundred!” the father answered back. “Make it three thousand then!” Doyoung attacked back.
Their faces were straight as usual, none of them showed any emotion. He had definitely learned that from his father. He must’ve been trained to do that, it was impossible for a human being to be in such a serene state of mind when he was bidding up with such amount of money. “This is a fight between father and son, ladies and gentlemen! Who will give more!?” the leader of the auction appeared again.
“Five thousand” the older man’s voice was still going strong, only earning a smirk from Doyoung. “Ten!” he said back, raising his hand again. Your heart was beating so fast inside of your chest you felt like it was about to explode, it was about to jump out of the cage that your ribs were forming. “Oh god you really have gone mad—this… this is not okay” you kept muttering, but he wasn’t listening. His mind was somewhere else. His mind was racing against his father.
“Woah, ten thousand for his own portrait! He must like himself too much then, right?” the leader of the auction tried to ease the tension that was building in the room. Their presence was big, bigger than anyone else is in the room. They both stood tall, their chest and head raised. None of them was backing out on this. “Fifteen!” his father said back, his eyes set on Doyoung’s.
Fifteen thousand dollars for your mediocre portrait? You definitely had to stop this. Taking Doyoung’s hand in yours you took his attention away from the situation successfully, his surprised eyes looking down at you.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but—this is getting out of hand” you hissed at him. His eyes were set on yours, just to travel down at where both of your hands met. “Sixteen!” he shouted back, his eyes set on you this time. “Why--?”
“Eighteen!” the older voice shouted over the crowd.
Your hand was firm on his, grasping even more with his every movement. “You don’t have to do this Doyoung—“you tried to stop him, this was ridiculous. It just proved how much money they had to spend on stupid things like a mediocre portrait made by a simple art student. “You wouldn’t understand Y/N…” he whispered before raising his head ahead one more time.
“Twenty—that’s my final bid!” he spoke, making the crowd around you murmur, mixing the inaudible words with gasps. His father and he exchanged hateful looks, filled with desire of fight. “If there’s no one else taking that bid up—“the man who stood at the front next to your painting took a brief moment to let people talk, but no one would rise up that bid.
“Mr. Kim is the one taking this beautiful portrait of himself back home! Thank you!”
“You have definitely lost your mind—“you murmured, still amazed of how much money he decided to pay for that. If you knew it before, you would’ve told him you had another one back in your room, waiting to be destroyed. Twenty thousand was a big amount of money, more than anything you could`ve imagined to ever earn out of a painting. “You should be grateful instead of whining so much, Y/N” he interrupted your train of thoughts once again.
“Grateful?”
“I just gave you twenty thousand dollars, now you’re the one who owes me a favour”
His words were harsh. His eyes were cold. He was, indeed, heartless. “You have to be—“
“No, I’m not kidding” he stopped you once again, his eyes moving forward, at where his parents were making their way to where both of you were standing. “Tomorrow, when I get the chance to explain everything…I hope you accept the deal—think of all the money as an extra. If you don’t want to do it, it’s fine. I understand”
How could a person be so cold? He was basically paying you to be his side chick for whatever turbulent plan he had in his mind. What did he want so much? He had everything, money, a family, a bright future. Why was he so mad at the world surrounding him?
“Good job son” his parents arrived to stand in front both of you. His mother had her hand around her husband’s arm, tightly grasping at it. Her expression was calm, a sly smile appearing. “You had the courage to not back out on such a tense situation—I’m proud”
What? Proud? He was proud his son just wasted all that money on something you did in five hours? How could someone be proud of that? “You kept yourself collected all the time, you didn’t show any sign of weakness. Good job” he praised him one last time before nodding his head and making his way out of the room where the auction was still going on.
“Proud?” you whispered as your eyes followed their figures that were already making their way out. “That’s the third time I hear those words coming out of his mouth” Doyoung said, “third time? This year?”
“Third time ever since I was born”
You were nervous as you took another step closer to the house where you first met Doyoung. Unlike the last time, you were going there with the daylight. It was a huge house, too big. How many people lived there? You still didn’t know anything about his fraternity. Your heart was beating loud in your chest, why were you so nervous to meet with him again?
After the events of the prior night, your mind couldn’t stop racing with all kind of theories about what Doyoung wanted to achieve with this silly plan of his. You couldn’t sleep properly, and that was obvious because of the dark circles under your eyes. Even the concealer couldn’t do a good job covering them.
Ringing the bell twice, someone finally opened the big door of the house—or mansion. You didn’t remember it that big. “Who are you?” a slim boy standing in front of you asked. His face was gorgeous and that took your breath away. “I’m—well I actually—“
His eyebrows rose up and a cheeky smile appeared on his face. “Don’t be nervous, who did you come to see? Jaehyun?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t who Jaehyun is”, that answer surprised him. “Oh—I’m sorry, he’s usually the one bringing girls home all the time, I just thought—“
“Well you thought wrong” you answered quickly, suddenly all of your nervousness leaving your body. Did he really think you came here just to fuck one of the brothers? Did you really gave off that vibe? “I’m here to see Doyoung” you said after the awkward silence that had set upon both of you.
“Doyoung?”
“Yeah—I’m Y/N, I don’t know if he has mentioned—“
“Oh my god Y/N! I totally forgot you were coming today, yes come on in! I’m sorry I mistook you as one of Jaehyun’s fuck buddies!” he quickly apologized for his prior comment, taking you by your hand and leading you inside of the house. “I’m Taeyong” he introduced himself, that cheeky smile back on his face.
“Yeah well I came—“
“Yes, we all know you were coming today but I totally forgot about it, just go upstairs and the third door is his bedroom, he must be there” he pointed to the big staircase leading to the second floor. “Why did you all know that I was coming?” you asked before turning around.
“Doyoung never invites girls home, so it would be very strange you appeared out of nowhere. He decided to warn us, in case we kicked you out, you know” he explained, his ears turning red in embarrassment.
Without much questions, you decided to let it go. It was strange, but the situation you were currently in was stranger. Knocking twice on the third door, Doyoung appear from behind of it. “I already thought you wouldn’t come” he smiled at you, politely letting you inside.
It wasn’t a surprise his bedroom was so clean and tidy. His walls were white, matching with the bed covers. Everything was kept minimal. Everything was placed perfectly. It had nothing to do your messy room, where the brushes and colours were sprawled all around, some of your clothes were laying down on the floor and it was way too filled with all kind of paintings you didn’t know what to do with.
“I’m sorry I’m late” you apologized, already feeling nervous around him. It wasn’t the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous, well—maybe that could be another factor to it, but you have discovered that the one thing that made you nervous about him was his presence, it was like every time you talked with him—he tried to negotiate. He didn’t hold any small talks, he didn’t talk about the weather. He was direct, clear and organized with his words.
“Don’t be” he smiled again, “please, take a seat” he pointed down to his bed, as he sat on the chair he had in front of his desk. “So—will you finally tell me why you threw me at the wolves like that last night?” you tried to keep yourself together, not letting him know that your hands were sweating.
“Look, I don’t if you’ve noticed but I… well, I don’t have the best relationship with my father” he started to explain, and you decided to let him talk, it would do no good if you interrupted him with sarcastic remarks. “But lately—it has become too much for me. He’s now trying to set me up to date people who I don’t even know, you know… his associates daughters”.
Your eyebrows were furrowed at his explanation. “That’s horrible”, you really did feel sorry for him. For the short amount of time you’ve been around his father’s presence, and for the short conversation you two had, you could already know he wasn’t someone easy to get along with. He must’ve pressured Doyoung through all of his life.
“That’s why I need your help, Y/N” his eyes rose to look directly at you. “It may sound stupid, but confronting my father by bringing home someone I know he won’t approve, is the best way I can finally show him that I won’t keep doing as he says”
“How are you so sure he won’t like me, he doesn’t even know me” you tried to laugh out his harsh words. “Because you’re not the type of person that he likes to be associated with” his statement came out calm, as if it was something normal to say. As if it was a sin that his son would ever think about dating some who wasn’t as rich as him. Blinking twice, you couldn’t believe what you just heard.
“I know that sounded wrong but it’s the truth—at least for my father” he tried to fix his poorly chosen words. “Doyoung I think you have to look for another—“
“No, it has to be you!”
“Why?”
“Because I already introduced you as my girlfriend”
“Well, if you had asked me before doing such a stupid thing we wouldn’t be into this mess!” you attacked back, deciding on not backing out on him again. “Don’t raise your voice at me, we’re having this conversation as civilized people” he kept his tone low, and it was now that you realized that your fists were clenched on your lap.
He really did a great job making you lose control. “Look—“you stopped to take a deep breath, “I know that your situation must be difficult and—I’m sorry you have to live this way, but maybe you should just let it go and… I know he will understand that you don’t want to do whatever he says without making all this lie up”
“You don’t know him Y/N” he leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Heck, I don’t even know him. I only know Mister Kim the business man, I don’t know him as Mister Kim the father”
It broke your heart the way he spilled all of those words filled with hate. His eyes were lost now, as if his mind was wandering back to some other time when he was a little boy. You cursed yourself for being such an empathic person, deeply feeling how hurt he must feel now. “Doyoung—“
“I told you last night I wouldn’t pressure you on doing something you don’t want to, I’m just asking for one chance” he tried to persuade you again. His posture changed, now his elbows were leaning on his knees. Your heart was beating fast, as fast as the thoughts racing in your mind.
You had definitely lost you mind, Y/N, you said to yourself.
“How much time do I have to pretend to be your girlfriend?” you asked softly, gaining back his attention, accompanied by a big smile spreading on his face. “Will you really do it?” he asked again, as if he was scared you would change your mind on the last minute. “I’m giving you one chance, I owe you one, remember?” a smirk appeared on his face after your words slipped from your mouth.
“Great! They’re going on a little get away this weekend, they asked me to bring you with me” he was now standing up, looking for his phone. “Oh, great! Holidays!” you cheered, maybe this wasn’t that bad after all. “And where are we going?”
“Paris” he answered back, making your eyes go wild. “A little get away is going to Paris? What kind of holidays do you have then?” your voice came out pitched, way too shocked with the situation. He finally turned his body around to look at you again, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. “We have a house in Paris and we sometimes go there if we feel stressed out, it’s really nice there” he explained, only making your mouth open wider.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been to Paris before”
“Well, of course I haven’t been to Paris before!”
“I’m sure you’ll love it, maybe you can get inspired again and paint another portrait, who knows.”
“How come you started to miss your family out of sudden?” Xiaojun asked. His body was leaning against your door as he looked at you packing your suitcase. “And why are you taking such fancy clothes if you’re just going back home?” his questions were starting to irritate you.
“Is it a crime to miss your family? And—why can’t I dress nice for once? I don’t have to walk around oversized tees that are all stained!”
“I’m not saying you can’t dress nice… you look good on everything” he said still following your every move with his eyes. How were you supposed to answer to that? It only reminded you of the time he sacrificed his feelings just to keep being by your side, even as friends.
Both of you were going back home from a party. It was dark and cold outside. You tried to fight the cold by bringing your jacket closer to your body. Xiaojun’s house wasn’t far away. You were sleeping there because your parent would be too preoccupied if they knew you were going to a party even still being underage, it would do no good. “I’m so tired” you whined, dragging your feet.
“We’re almost there” he answered suddenly placing his arm around your shoulders, trying to keep you warm.
You two have known each other ever since you can remember. Having him by your side made you feel protected, just like an older brother. His love and support has always been there, and you took it for granted.
“I think I feel something for you, Y/N” he had said that same night, lying down on his bed next to you. Your heart was about to explode because of the sadness it felt, knowing very well that you couldn’t say the same back to him.
You weren’t brave enough to talk it out. You were just a coward who decided to run away from the situation, pretending to be asleep and acting as if nothing had happened, as if he didn’t place his heart in your hands for you to just crush it by ignoring him.
Your ways separated that night. Both of you knew you weren’t asleep. Both of you knew you had heard him very clear, but you didn’t have the courage to confront the situation.
“I’ll be away from a weekend only, please don’t destroy the house” you warned him, closing your suitcase. “Oh, you’re not really the right person to say that” he answered laughing, already leaving your room and making his way to the living room. “I have already apologized five times about that party Xiao! Will you were forget about it!” you whined following him around.
It was one time he went back home and you decided it was a great idea to have a little gathering with friends. Which turned out to be worse than a frat party. “I forgive but I don’t forget Y/N” his laugh filled the room.
“Anyways mister perfect, I’ll be back on Sunday night so I hope you welcome me with a nice homemade meal”
“I’ll be waiting you like a loving husband waits for his wife to come back from a business trip”
“Don’t be so dramatic”
As much as you wanted to play it cool, you were actually nervous about the trip. You were travelling to another country with someone you had met two weeks ago. It was good to be a free soul but wasn’t this too much? You could totally hear your mother’s words: if your heart wants to do it, go for it, it will never lie to you.
Yes, it will never lie to you but did your heart want to go? You still didn’t know what Doyoung has done to you, ever since the first time you saw him on that party. His eyes had followed you around, his voice appearing in your mind.
The second portrait you painted was still carefully hidden in your room behind the shadows of other bigger paintings. You tried to make it disappear by placing it somewhere you couldn’t constantly see it. It was more than enough that you couldn’t make him leave your head, you didn’t need his face around your room too.
Maybe you should give it to him after the trip. That would be the end.
He was waiting in his car outside your building. As usual, his outfit was clean perfect and it made you feel insecure to walk around him. It was obvious both of you were from different worlds, different social circles, different mentalities. This trip would be a difficult one.
“Good morning” he greeted with a big smile on his face, irritating you how calm he was about the current situation. “Morning to you too” you quickly answered, trying to avoid him.
“Are you ready?” he asked as both of you were already in his car, making your way to the airport. “I don’t know—are you?” you tried to sound confident, but your shaking voice made obvious how insecure you felt about it. “Don’t worry about anything Y/N, I’ll make sure to not put you in any kind of awkward situations. They planned this trip because they wanted to meet the person I’m dating and that’s all”
“Please don’t forget the fact that we’re not actually dating, god—I don’t even know your favourite colour”
“But you shouldn’t be nervous about the simple things, we just have to come up with a great background story and that’s it!”
“Have you ever dated someone Doyoung? It’s not that easy to show feelings for someone when you’re not really in love! Are you aware of that?”
“I’ve seen first-hand fake feelings Y/N, my family made sure to teach me that ever since I was little”
His words caught you off guard, making you feel terrible about snapping at him that way. You’ve never met someone with so much money. You’ve never talked with anyone who lived the life he lived. You didn’t know anything about him.
It saddened you to know his family had neglected him all of his life, taking decisions for him and making him feel that way. But, once again, who were you to be worried about him? About his well-being? You weren’t even friends. Didn’t he have female friends who could help him out? Was he that desperate to fight his family that he had to ask a stranger for help?
The silence that fell upon both of you was awkward. You could clearly hear your heartbeat, but then again, there wasn’t a coherent answer to what he had said. The only thing you could do was to feel guilty about your words.
“Black” he said out of sudden. You titled your head to the side to look at him. His eyes were focused on the road, his right hand on the shifting gear and his left arm relaxing on top of the steering wheel. “My favourite colour is black” he spoke again, briefly meeting your eyes before turning back to focus his attention on the road.
“Okay, let’s just do this. What’s the plan?” you asked him, ready to leave that short argument behind. You didn’t know why, but you wanted to help him out. “Easy, we met because of a friend—let’s just say Taeyong, you met him back in the house, right?”
“Yeah”
“Well we met because of him, we both had the same interests and we just clicked, easy as that”
You couldn’t stop the laugh that left your mouth when you heard those words. “You know we don’t have the same interests, right? No one will believe us”
“Well, then we can just improvise”
What’s the worst thing that could happen? It was a win-win situation at the end, you had the chance to travel for free to Paris and have a relaxing weekend with nothing to think about. Well, nothing besides the lies you had to come up with to make his parents believe both of you were deeply and madly in love. Feelings you were also unfamiliar with.
When you both arrived to the airport your palms were already sweaty. To think you had to stand in front of his father again made you want to throw up. There was a tight knot in your stomach and it didn’t help the fact that you already knew how harsh his words would be.
Doyoung helped you with your suitcase, as he only had a little bag on his back. “Why aren’t you bringing clothes?” you asked surprised. “I have a full closet there, don’t worry” he answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world. How much money did these people have?
He walked by your side with your suitcase. Both of you spotted his parents on the entrance of the airport, his father in a suit and his mother in a beautiful summer dress with black shades on. Doyoung’s fingers laced with yours and that simple move made your heart flutter in your chest.
“Good morning mom” he greeted her before turning to the other side, “father” he nodded his head at him. “Sweetie you have bags under your eyes, aren’t you sleeping well? Do you want me to call Dr. Jung to treat those dark circles?” his mother spoke worriedly. She preferred to treat those instead of asking him why wasn’t he been sleeping well?
“Good morning Y/N, it’s nice seeing you again” she was now directing her attention to you, a kind smile on your face. “Good morning Ms. Kim” you greeted back, smiling after Doyoung’s hand grasped harder at yours. “Mr. Kim” you also greeted his father, who didn’t even look at you. He really knew how to make someone feel awkward.
“Is the plane ready?” Doyoung asked.
“Yes, they’re all waiting for us” his mother spoke again. It looked like Mr. Kim wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation that morning. “Shall we?” she asked again, turning around and making her way inside the airport, closely followed by her husband.
“Are we late for the flight?” you asked worried. “No, the plane is waiting for us, don’t worry” he spoke with his head high. “I shouldn’t talk much with your father right? Looks like he’s not in the mood”
“He’s never in the mood” he scoffed, his hand still holding tight on yours. “So I should avoid him all weekend?”
“No, he won’t let you” he stopped suddenly, making you stop by his side. “Just don’t let his words get to you Y/N” his eyes were now focused on you. He was talking serious, way too serious for your liking. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you saw it back on the gallery, sometimes he can be a little—too direct with his words”
“You mean he can be rude” you let those words escape your mouth before your mind could proceed with them. Your eyes widened and so did his. What you didn’t expect was to hear him laugh loud at your words. “You’re right, he’s rude” he nodded before turning around. It calmed you to know at least he knew the truth about his father.
When Doyoung told you that the plane was waiting for you, you didn’t exactly expect it to be really waiting for you. His family’s private plane was ready to take off as everyone was taking their seats inside.
“Why are you so nervous Y/N? Is it your first time flying?” his mother asked you finally taking off her shades, a small smile on her face. You furrowed your eyebrows at her, did she really think that only rich people could fly around to other countries? “No—it’s not my first time, but I always get nervous” you tried convince her but she only nodded her head, the smile still on her face. It creeped you out a little that small smile? Why was she smiling?
There wasn’t much conversation to hold with them, and it really made you feel awkward to be sitting there in front of them. Doyoung was by your side, his hand still holding tight on yours as he was a reading a book. It seemed like he didn’t want to let you go, as if you would spill out the truth if he didn’t protect you in front of them.
“If you excuse me, I’ll be in the back resting” his father was the one who broke the silence that made you feel so uncomfortable once the plane had already taken off. He hadn’t said a single word to you ever since you met that same morning. He was a cold person, and his son was the same.
“So tell me Y/N, what do your parents do for a living?” his mother spoke calmly, her every word dragging the next one form her mouth. Doyoung’s eyes snapped up as if he knew what was coming next. “My mom is a painter and my dad’s a lawyer”. It wasn’t a lie that you felt small between both of them, their aura filling the whole place.
“A lawyer, that’s a good profession. Why did you decide to follow your mother’s steps?” she really looked interested in the topic. “Mom I think—“, “what’s wrong Doyoung? Is there something wrong with me asking about her parents?” she was quick the shut him out of the conversation, her once warm eyes now cold as stone. “No” he muttered before looking back down at his book.
“My parents have always taught me that I should do whatever makes my heart happy—whatever keeps me going in life, and I’ve never been interested in books, I would rather spend my free time drawing and painting instead of studying”
“But you still managed to enter the same university as Doyoung, that’s impressive” her words made you doubt about if that was a praise or she was just being sarcastic. “That’s because of the scholarship I got, I applied and they were impressed by my paintings” you tried to hold yourself together.
Doyoung’s hand was still tightly grasping at yours, his eyes clearly not focused on the words written in the book he was holding with his other hand. “You saw her painting of me, right mom? What do you think about it?” he intervened again, bothered to be left out of the conversation.
“It was good” she answered, “although you could clearly see it was the first time you painted a portrait, am I right?” her eyes moved quickly between you and Doyoung. “Well yeah- I don’t believe it’s good either”
“Why did you portray Doyoung that way though? It seemed like you didn’t know the person you were painting, it has nothing to do with our son” she remarked, making you think how you said those same things to Doyoung back at the gallery. All of her words were carefully chosen and that made you think that she was way more dangerous than his father.
“I painted it when we met” you simply answered, “we didn’t know each other that much yet, I just tried to portray his face, the feelings on that painting are not his”
“That’s what I thought” she finished saying, repositioning herself on the seat. Her shoulders relaxed as she moved her head to look out of the little window of the plane. “We’ve always tried our best to make Doyoung happy by giving him the best in life, it wouldn’t make sense if he was as miserable as you portrayed him in that painting”
Doyoung’s eyes were fixed on his mother, his mouth closed in a thin line. He was holding himself back to not answer something he would probably regret later on. The more time you spend around that family, the more you realized how fucked up they were.
You placed your other hand on top of his trying to calm him down, his attention moving away from his mother to be entirely focused on where your skin touched. It must’ve been hard to grow up for him, and your heart broke every time you thought about it.
Nothing much happened in the flight to Paris. His mother stayed in front of both of you all the time, so you couldn’t talk with Doyoung about anything either. It gave you time to think about the situation.
His parents were convinced they had raised a young happy man, when in reality he despised them. They were convinced Doyoung has had everything in life, when he was missing on the best part. It shocked you how much you realized from a single conversation with his mother and from what you’ve talked with him.
He had never had someone love him. He had never felt a motherly hug on a rainy day, or how it feels to have someone take care of you whenever you felt sick. He had never had that, and it saddened you to know that’s the reason why his heart was stone cold, or at least that’s what you thought.
Another thing that occurred to you is that, even if this plan turned out fine, would he be able to live without his parents support? Would be he able to make decisions on his own? After stealing a few glances of him concentrated on the book he was reading, you realized that behind that façade of a perfect man, whose life was all under control, there was a scared boy who didn’t know how to manage any of his life problems.
He has never had the chance to confront any difficulties in life. That could be good, but not at the extreme he was raised. He doesn’t know what humility is, for him is normal for own five houses in different countries and to have a plane that can take him around whenever he wanted. He was totally disconnected from reality.
Would he be able to confront the hard reality of what life is really like outside the perfect bubble his parents had built for him? Was this just a rebel action that he would regret the rest of his life?
You didn’t know what to think anymore. Everything was fine before stepping on that damn party, before Doyoung spilling his drink on your clothes. Everything was perfect for you. Damn you, Doyoung, the little voice in your head curse loudly.
“We will see you back home, honey” his mother said before entering one of the two cars that were waiting for you at the airport. “Why are they taking another car? I think there’s plenty of space for us there too—“
“They’re like that. They don’t like sharing a ride with strangers”
“Who’s coming then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well you said they didn’t like to ride with—“
“Oh, I was referring to you”
Your eyebrows shot up when you heard his words. “I thought—“, “they haven’t accepted you still Y/N, and that’s the plan”.
Entering the car you were still shocked because of what he had just said. “I thought you wanted to—“, “I want them to know that I will do whatever I want from now on, and that includes that I’ll date people who they don’t approve of, that’s why you’re here”
“So… my mission is to annoy your parents?”
His eyes got wider hearing those words, but he took a moment to think about it. “You could put it that way—yes” he answered titling his head to the side. “Why didn’t you say that before, I won’t hold back anymore then”
A smirk spread on his face while he was riding back to their house. “Don’t make a scene though” he commented, bringing back the words he has said to you thousand times before. You rolled your eyes at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “if you really want to annoy them you have to let me make a scene, it won’t work if we play this game by their rules”
“What happened to you? Just hours ago you were nervous to step on a plane with my parents and now you want to make them go crazy on you?”
“I just don’t like when people think they’re better than everyone else just because they have money” you quickly answered, making him shut up. He knew better than anyone else that he behaved that way as well. Could he handle you, then?
The city was indeed beautiful. More than what you expected it to be. As Doyoung was driving down the road to his house, you just kept observing everything out of the window. It was a warm sunny day, the streets were filled with people and cars, every open place was a beautiful sight and so were all of the public gardens the city had.
A smile spread on your face when you realized that what people have been saying was all true. The city was awake. The city interacted with its citizens. The atmosphere of the place was way different from everywhere else you’ve been to before. You couldn’t help but feel your heart full of joy, full of happiness and love, just because you were on that city.
“Beautiful, right?” his voice stopped your train of thoughts, making you turn around and look at him. The sun made his dark hair shine and his skin look paler, but brighter. “I’ve never been in a city like this one before” you softly said, turning back to look out of the window. You wanted to memorize everything you could from it, just like you wanted to memorize the emotions you felt that very moment. You’ve never felt like his before.
“The first time I came to Paris was when I was ten years old” he started to speak again, but this time you didn’t take your eyes off of the sight in front of you, letting him talk while you kept observing. “I don’t know if it was because of the streets, the people… the ambience, but I felt like—“ he stopped, his eyes were looking straight at the road but you knew his mind was travelling back in time to when he was a young ten year old boy stepping for the first time here.
“I really felt like the city was awake” he said. Had he read your mind? Your head titled to the side to look at him again, briefly forgiving about the beautiful buildings you were passing by. “I felt like it was the city the one that marked the pace of people’s lives, not the other way around. It was the city who chose the people who were allowed to live in it… I know it’s a weird thought but I felt like that”
The smile that had spread on his face was a small one, but you knew it was sincere. “I know what you mean” you commented back as you turned around to keep looking at the landscape. “I don’t know what it is that this place has, but ever since we entered it I knew it was special”, it was a mere mumble coming out of your mouth but Doyoung managed to catch your every word, smiling at himself.
When you arrived to his house you couldn’t help but gasp at the big mansion that was staring back at you. It was all white house, with big beautiful blue roof, very Parisian. His parents’ car was already parked at the entrance, where he also parked his.
“If you want, we can get changed and go back downtown and I can show you a few places” he proposed as he was taking out your suitcase from the back of the car. “Wow—that’d be great” you couldn’t help but feel amazed by everything that was surrounding you, hoping that the way you were feeling lasted long until the weekend ended.
Having the great luck of not crossing paths with his parents inside of the big house, he led you to his room. It was no surprise how big it was. Also with white walls and tall ceilings, it had a minimal decoration, just like his room back in his frat house. “I hope you don’t mind if we sleep together, it would be weird if my parents knew that you’re sleeping in a different room—you know, since were a couple now” he laughed, making you relax a bit.
“No, that’s fine…” you answered walking around the big room.
You never knew all of the great places a city could have. You two had been walking around town for three hours. Nothing could wipe the big smile on your face and the surprised expression whenever Doyoung told you something about the history of the city.
He was also happy, or at least that’s what it looked like, you thought. He walked around with you showing you every place he could think of, talking to you about how the buildings were built, why there were so many public parks with such beautiful nature. It was the first time you felt like Doyoung was relaxed around you.
“Have you ever thought of living here?” you asked him as both of you were walking by the seine river with an ice cream in hand. He furrowed his brows, looking at the river by his side. “I have” his answer was honest, you were waiting for the reason why he wouldn’t do it. “But my parents wouldn’t let me—they say this city is not for me” he explained.
“That’s the reason? What does that even mean?” you asked confused and he laughed at your expression. “This city was made for dreamers, Y/N” he suddenly stopped to look at the shining river, painted in all warm colours because the sun was already setting down. “They say that I couldn’t live here because I have to focus on being successful in life and this city will make me lose my vision”
Instead of looking at the beautiful sight of the river in front of you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. His tall body standing still, his head high and his eyes lost in all of the memories he had made every time he had come here. “You know” you spoke, your eyes still set on him, “my mom always says that people should do whatever makes their heart beat fast in their chest as if it’s dancing behind your ribs”, and he smiled at your words. “If the life you’re having right now doesn’t make you feel that way, Doyoung…”
“If we follow the same metaphor your mother said, I can say my heart dances to a slow beat when we’re back home…so, it’s not as bad as it seems” he answered, smiling back down at you. but it was a forced smile, the relaxed Doyoung you had seen all evening had disappeared with simple words, replacing him with the same Doyoung you met days ago in that frat party.
“I’m sorry for asking, I should have brought that up…”
“Don’t worry about it, really” he tried to reassure you. “Want to go back home? It’s getting late and I’m sure you’re tired”.
He told you to not worry about him, when his mood clearly changed from what you were accustomed to see all evening. It wasn’t like looking at the young free boy that led you around town to show you all of its secrets. Instead, in front of you was a young man whose face was emotionless, eyes cold and mouth closed. He didn’t show anything.
It was like you had reminded him that this wasn’t his life. And it would never be, not because he didn’t want it, but because he couldn’t have it. And you knew that was the first time Doyoung has wanted something that his parents couldn’t give him, and they didn’t want to give him.
They didn’t want to give him his freedom. And that’s what hurt him the most.
“Remember to not let my father’s words get to you” he reminded you as you both made your way to the dining room. “If you let me make a scene I’ll not let his words get to me” you smiled big at him, finally earning a laugh. He had been serious and silent ever since that conversation in front of the river just an hour ago. So, hearing that laugh again made you relax.
“I let you make a scene but if I think it’s too much I’ll stop you” he warned you at which you could only roll your eyes. “No one can stop me once I open my mouth” you said and his hand quickly caught your wrist, making you stop in front of him abruptly.
Suddenly he was close. Too close. He was looking down at you, his eyes piercing through your soul. He was still holding your wrist but you didn’t dare to move away. Something made you stop everything, just like it stopped the world revolving around you. “Behave” he warned again and this time you could feel his breathe closer, or did you imagine that?
Why was it that he could change personalities so fast? How did he do that? You kept asking yourself. “C’mon, they’re already waiting for us” he said passing by, letting your wrist finally free. What was that? Why did he—?
“Y/N?” He asked as he turned around to wait on you. “Yeah I’m sorry—“
Get yourself together Y/N! Your mission here is to annoy his parents, not to stand dumbfounded every time he does the thing!, but how did he managed to shut you up with one word only?
“Did you like Paris, Y/N?” his mother was the first to talk after dinner was served. You were still looking down at the table, why did they need so many cutlery? Three forks? For what? “Ah—yeah, it’s really a beautiful city” you tried to talk back to her but your mind was still panicking on which fork was the right one to use.
“We bought this house when Doyoung turned ten because we knew it would be a good place to bring him just to let him relax” she started to explain, and took the first fork on her right in order to eat her meal and you decided to copy her. Doyoung must’ve noticed your expression and how quickly you copied her movements because of the smile that slowly spread on his face as he watched you from the corner of his eye.
“But I think we’ll be selling it soon” his father’s voice made an appearance, making all of the eyes in the room set on him. Doyoung had a shocked expression on, his eyes wider than ever. “Why would you do that?” he asked. “Because we don’t need it anymore, you’re already a grown man who has to focus on the last of your studies and also the company” he spoke without looking up at his son. As if his words weren’t bullets that were directly shot at Doyoung’s chest.
“But—isn’t it too soon for me to enter the company?” his eyes were now between his father and his mother, who both had the same serious expression. “I was your age when your uncle and I first opened the company, so I don’t see where the problem is” the older man commented again.
“But I haven’t finished college yet and I planned on doing a master’s degree afterwards—“
“That’s too much time, I prefer you make mistakes in the company now while I can mend them for you” he answered, not paying any kind of attention at Doyoung’s face. “But if you’re so sure Doyoung will make mistakes why don’t you let him learn first and then work?” you were the one to speak now, interrupting the family conversation.
Doyoung’s hand quickly landed on top of your thigh as his eyes turned to look at you serious. He was telling you that it was not the best moment to make a scene, but your heart felt otherwise. “I mean—it’s obvious you don’t trust him enough to take the reins, why don’t you let him study hard and understand very well what he has to do” you tried to explain yourself since no one in the table seemed to understand why you spoke.
“Y/N, have you ever had a job?” that was the first time his father directed a word towards you that day. His elbows were now on the table, as his hands were folded before his face. “No sir but I—“
“Then, I suppose you have no idea what it takes to build a company out of nothing… wait that’s nonsense, you’re an art student, I’m sorry this conversation will not lead to anywhere—“ he smiled down at his plate as he kept eating.
Doyoung’s hand grasped at your thigh, signalling you that this was the time to shut up. “It’s true that I haven’t worked yet but my parents do, and they may have not have the amount of money this family has but I they made sure to teach me what hard work meant” you kept your head high as you spoke, your eyes still set on his father.
“Hard work? From an artist like your mom?” he scoffed, but that made your blood boil. “Yes, hard work, since she managed to keep pursuing her passion while raising me, and I can assure you that’s not something easy” you answered back, Doyoung’s hand grasping tightly on your thigh, but you were not about to lose against his father.
“She didn’t do a great job raising you, as we can see” he shot back, looking straight at you again. “Who sets the standard?” you asked back. “Well, a hopeless dreamer with no manners, what else could we expect from you? Doyoung, I really thought you had better taste in women” his father completely ignored your question, now attacking his own son.
“I believe this is enough” his mother intervened as she set down her glass of wine. The room went silent, and no one looked up from their plate. Doyoung still had his hand on your thigh, his eyes set on the table. You could clearly see he was scared of his father. He wouldn’t ever stand up for someone else in front of his father—hell, he wouldn’t even stand up for himself. You really did feel sorry for him.
“That was completely unappropriated” was the first thing you heard after entering Doyoung’s bedroom that night.
“What? Your father’s way to say that my mother is a failure? I believe the same”
“No—well yes, that wasn’t good either… but I’m talking about how you snapped back at him” he turned around to face you, his face was the same as the first time you met him. He was mad. “I thought you said—“
“I said I would stop you and I tried”
“Oh, you were stopping me? I thought you were just playing kinky” you tried to ease the conversation, knowing it would only lead to an argument. You walked pass him to enter the bathroom, but he followed you quickly around. “Don’t play stupid on me Y/N”
“Look Doyoung, maybe it was not my place to speak since it was a family matter but that matter changed once he decided to attack on my own family, which I will protect and stand up for every time someone tries to speak about them—you should take example from me instead of your parents, don’t you think?” you asked him before shutting the bathroom door.
Your hands were shaking and so were your legs. His wide eyes as you were saying that last thing was the only thing in your mind. You had shut him up. For the first time it was him, and not you, the one left speechless. Was he mad? Was he furious? You didn’t know, and you weren’t impatient to know either.
Looking at your reflection on the mirror you were happy to see the brave girl you once were to come back to life. You didn’t regret anything you said tonight. They will see who you are truly, and maybe you could help Doyoung. One way or another, he could learn something from you, and maybe finally setting free from the chains his parents had set on him.
Your hands itched with the need to pick up a brush and fill a blank canvas with all of the emotions you were feeling on the inside. That’s something your mother had taught you, every time you felt overwhelmed, the best you could do was to paint and leave all of your emotions there, not thinking about it anymore.
But you didn’t have brushes nor a canvas with you, so you were left with the storm of thoughts and feelings on the inside, making your hands still shake as you finally exited the bathroom. The room was dark, the only source of light were the lights of the backyard that entered the room softly, falling upon Doyoung’s body which was already on the bed.
His forearm was above covering his eyes and his other hand was laying on his chest. His chest rose and fell with a slow rhythm, making you believe he was asleep. His body looked relaxed, and you prayed it was that way.
You slow let your body lay down next to him, trying to keep the distance between you two. It was uncomfortable to sleep on your back as you were used to sleep in all kind of positions, but never on your back. With a sigh you moved around and finally positioned yourself on your side looking at Doyoung.
“What is your favourite colour?” his voice came out almost inaudible, barely above a whisper. Your eyes opened wide as you looked at his face, which was still covered by his forearm. You didn’t expect him to ask you that, but for some weird reason it made your heart beat faster than before.
“Green” you whispered back.
“Why”
“It relaxes me, it makes me feel safe. All of my paintings when I was little were based on the colour green. It is also the colour I imagine every time I feel anxious and it helps me calm down”
You explained, at which he didn’t question back. “Why is your favourite colour black?” you were the one asking this time. “Because it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the mix of everything else you have in the colour scheme—it’s turbulent and chaotic”
The thought of him being mad at you quickly disappeared because of the tone of his voice. It was not strict, or serious. He was just talking and explaining just like he had done that evening while both of you walked around the streets of Paris.
“I apologize for what happened before” he softly said again, finally moving his forearm away from his eyes, but he kept them closed. “I will try to stand up for you next time something like this happens”
“Doyoung—“
“You were right Y/N, that’s something I can learn from you”
Much to your surprise hours passed by in a rush when you were with Doyoung. You both spent the whole Saturday out of the house, away from the hot tension that had built up into the house where his parents where. You didn’t know why, but after that brief conversation with Doyoung the night prior, it felt like everything that had happened before was just a bad dream.
None of you mentioned the argument that led him to confess how he felt towards your move on his parents, and you were grateful for it. Maybe he wasn’t that bad after all, right? The one thing that you noticed is that he acted differently around his parents and away from all of the pressure they put him through. When he was only with you his mood was lighter, he laughed regularly at your remarks and sometimes at your jokes, but the best thing out of everything is that he let himself go.
The controlling aura he thought he must have all the time because of his father, slowly but steadily fell off during that Saturday, being replaced by the image of a simple boy who was enjoying his day out. And you loved every second of it.
“If you had a little bit of knowledge about art you would know the story behind the Giaconda!” you argued with him after you both exited The Louvre. “Then what’s the story behind it, miss i-know-it-all?” he asked making you furrow your eyebrows at the nickname he decided to use on you ever since you both entered the museum.
“As you already know Leonardo painted it back in 1500, but he never considered it to be complete and that’s why he never gave it to his commissioner” you started to speak as you were both already walking again side by side next to the sienna river. “Why?” he asked confused. “That’s the mystery that revolves around the painting” you responded with a smirk on your face.
“It is still not known who the person portrayed on the painting is, but there are a lot of great theories about it. Some say it corresponds to Lisa Gherardini, being her the second wife of Franceso del Giocondo, but there are far more interesting theories than this one” you spoke freely, being this topic one of the many you’ve had to write about in college.
His eyes were truly interested in every word you said, listening closely to your explanation. “There is a theory according to which the subject is Leonardo himself, there are a lot of similarities between the painting and the his face and that would also explain why he never gave it out to the commissioner”
“Well that’s an interesting one, I’ve never heard about it. But everything you’re saying are just theories, right?”
“Well yes, the reason why the painting is so popular is because of the mystery that holds, the smile, the eyes—everything behind it creates an aura of an enigma around it” you spoke quietly now, as your walk slowed down. “I believe with people happens the same”
He completely stopped to look at you with narrowed eyes. “How’s that?”
“We’re often attracted to people whose aura it’s just like that because our need of knowledge about them is too powerful, what are they hiding? Why are they hiding? Who are they hiding it from?” you kept on explaining looking straight at the beautiful sight of the river in front of you. “But sometimes the disappointment behind all of that mystery is bigger than the challenge itself, that’s why people should be careful on who they choose to approach… and it’s not always easy to identify the signs”
The soft wind blowing made the landscape in front of you even more gorgeous to look at. You knew that you had to return back to Paris someday, and give this dreamer’s city a try. Doyoung stepped to stand by your side, his eyes glued to your face.
“Were you attracted to me because of that?”
That simple question made your blood freeze in your veins. It was in that moment when you realized how close he was standing to you, and you were not brave enough to turn around and face him. “Who ever said I was attracted to you?”
There you were again. Running away from the situation, like a coward. But now it was different. It was not Xiaojun, and you were not sure if you were attracted to him or not. Maybe he was right, maybe he was not. But there was something you couldn’t deny, ever since the first day he entered your mind and decided to stay.
“Your reactions to me did” he answered quickly.
“Doyoung I don’t know what—“
“That’s why you painted that portrait” he stopped you again, and you just couldn’t help but look up at him. His eyes had turned back to being cold. “Because you thought that if you painted me… you could just live by the fake image you could build up about me… you were too scared to approach the mystery so you decided to create the answer behind it yourself” he spoke quietly, as if he had thought about the topic for days. But it couldn’t be.
“I don’t—“
“Just accept it” he pushed once again. His right hand fell on the lower part of your back as he made you turn around to completely face him. This wasn’t good, he was way too close. Your bodies were way too close. “Just accept it that you couldn’t stop thinking about me ever since the day we met” he repeated.
You could just accept it and risk it. You could just be honest to him, and to yourself, for once. But was it worth it? Your mind was running wild but his hand was still holding you still in front of him. He wouldn’t back out, and you knew it. His father had shown him to stay strong and confront the situation, something you have always avoided.
Maybe you could learn something from him too.
“I can’t accept a lie” you lied yourself.
His hand immediately fell from his place and you missed it before a second even had passed. You held your breath as he held your gaze. Something changed. His aura changed. Did you ruin it? Probably. Why did you do it? You had no idea. It was your first instinct, to not show him your true emotions. Why?
Because you were scared. Who has felt that way before towards a stranger who they had met in a frat party? That’s just madness. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Then why was he right? How did he know you couldn’t stop thinking about him? Why was this situations so cruel for you?
Closing his eyes for a brief moment he opened them again. “I apologize” he softly said. You had lost the young free Doyoung you had spent the day with, and now you were greeted by the narcissistic rich man Doyoung, someone you hated. “I won’t bring that up again, it was a mistake. Please just—forget about it” he finally added before stepping to the side, making his way back to the car.
Your mouth fell open ready to call him out to stop walking, ready to let him read you like a book, just like he has been doing all this time without you even realizing it. But it was too late. You had lost him, and you didn’t know if you could bring back the real Doyoung from the shadows.
No more words were shared between you and Doyoung after that last ones in front of the river. You felt uneasy about it, and thought deeply on how to mend your own error but nothing seemed good enough, at least not for him. It wasn’t easy to deal with Doyoung, you never knew what he was thinking or which would be his next move, it was impossible to catch him off guard.
“I know we’ve avoided my parents today and I’m sure they’re pissed off because of that” he said just as he parked the car in front of his house. “If last night’s topic comes up again please… don’t intervene, Y/N” he asked sincerely looking at you in the eyes. It looked like he wanted to deal with this by himself, but would he be able to do so?
What you noticed last night is that he was afraid of sharing his opinion about the important matters with his parents. That’s why they always took every possible chance to decide on his future, because he was too scared to say no. But, could you blame him?
“If not—please…” he spoke again, just as you thought he had finished. “If you get the chance, please make a scene”. You could catch a small smile on his mouth but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “I’ll try my best” was the only thing you could answer.
“Aren’t you coming?” he asked as you stopped yourself from following him inside of the house. “I want to take a moment—I’ll see you in a minute” you tried to smile but all you needed was some time alone, without Doyoung’s strong presence around you that didn’t let you think properly.
The sun was setting down and the colour scheme reflected on the house’s façade was truly beautiful. It calmed you down to look at all the warm colours, but it also reminded you on how tonight was the last night you could help Doyoung. And you couldn’t do it only “making a scene”, like he said. There was more to it.
“I thought you were already inside with Doyoung, I understand you both had a nice day today, right?” his mother’s voice made you turn around abruptly. Where did she come from? “Yes, we’re a bit tired after all the walking around” you tried to smile politely at her, but you knew she was the worst of them all.
She walked slowly to stand by your side and also look at the colourful view in front of you. “I don’t know where you appeared from Y/N, but I know you won’t be staying for a long time” she spoke but her mouth barely moved. “Ms. Kim I don’t think—“
“Please hear me out” she started again, this time turning to smile at you. It was almost a kind smile, a smile that a mother would give lovingly to her child. Doyoung was right, he was used to fake feelings because that’s everything he knew. “When we return back home, you will leave Doyoung’s side and never look out for him again”
Out of everything this was the last thing you thought you’d hear. “You are both clearly from different worlds, and we both know Doyoung can do way better than you, at least that’s what he deserves”. You never thought it would hurt that much to hear those words.
“This is not a threat Y/N, it’s a warning. If you want to do him good, leave him alone once we return back home” she smiled one last time before taking a step forward to leave your side. “I won’t” faintly slid from your mouth, making her stop.
“Excuse me?”
“I want to do him good that’s the reason why I won’t leave him alone” the words left your mouth so fast your mind didn’t even proceed them. “You will regret what you just said” she responded and continued to walk towards the house. The beautiful colours you were admiring moments ago were already gone, leaving everything into the dark.
Maybe she was right. Maybe you were sacrificing too much just to help him. To help a stranger.
The sound of the door closing behind you made Doyoung snap his eyes open. He was laying down on the bed, waiting for you. “I already thought you ran away back to the museum” he joked but you couldn’t even smile back at him. You didn’t know why his mother’s words affected you so much. “Doyoung, do you think this is the best for you?” you asked making his eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“The best for me?”
“I mean—you’ve always had them decide for you, do you really believe you’re ready to take action on your own?” you asked him stepping to stand in front of him. He quickly sat up on the bed, his head titling up to look at you. “Where’s this coming from?”
“I was just thinking that…maybe they do want the best for you, that’s why their making their best to teach you about the company and…setting you up with different girls” you explained, unable to even look at him in the eyes. You couldn’t believe yourself. “I thought you were against all of that? Y/N what—“
“Maybe you get lucky and one of those girls is actually someone good to you… someone good for you”
“You want to stop this?”
“All I’m saying is that you should think it through… really think about it”
He stood up to stand tall in front of you, but once again close. Your eyes were set on his neck, unable to look up at him. “I’ve made the decision Y/N, if you don’t want to help me on this one I understand, I told you from the start that I won’t push you into doing things you don’t want to. But this is something I’ve lived with all my life, and I think it’s time for a change”.
You finally looked up at him, just to see the same person you once painted.
Doyoung sat by your side once again on the dining table. His father and mother were sitting across from you, both with stoic expressions on. No one dared to talk while waiting for the food to arrive. The look on his mother’s eyes was mortifying, and you knew it was all because of your answer back. Thinking about the positive side of the situation, you’ve already taken the first step on helping Doyoung out while talking with his mother.
“What do you plan on doing after college, Y/N?” to your surprise it was his father the on to start the conversation this time. That question took you aback, you actually had no idea what you wanted to do after college. “I want to travel” you chose on taking the easy way tonight. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well that’s nice, but don’t you have a plan? I mean…if you and Doyoung are still together it won’t be good if you leave to travel around the globe while he’s working and paying for all of that, right?”
“I never said Doyoung would be the one paying”
“That’s impressive then, how do you plan on doing it?” he scoffed, his hands folded in front of his face. “I plan on working while studying and save as much as I can, then leave everything and go”
“Leave everything and go? That’s risky, I believe only brave people can do that” his mother was the one to talk now.
“I think it’s a good plan” Doyoung spoke suddenly, which you didn’t expect at all. “It’s a waste of time, you can always do that once you have your life sorted out and you have a stable economic background to do so without worries” his father answered back looking at Doyoung.
He quickly shut up after hearing that. “Anyways, I also plan on opening my own store and with some luck, my own gallery” you tried to move on with the conversation. Doyoung had the guts to answer one time to his parents, but never twice. “Oh a gallery? That’s nice, but you need a good fund to start with” his mother smiled again, and you knew that one smile wasn’t a kind one.
“Everything can be done if I work hard enough”, you were not letting them win this one. “It will only be successful if the paintings are good—if you plan on doing that with portraits like the one you exposed in our gallery, well…”
His father’s eyes were determined on finishing you on this one last dinner.
“You didn’t like it? Then why did you try to buy it?” you asked with a curious look on your face.
“Because Doyoung was impressed by it, and I thought it would be nice if I bought it for him, even if I didn’t like it”
“I didn’t know you did things like that for your son, most times you don’t think if he would like what you have for him or not” you quickly snapped back, and Doyoung’s hand was back on your thigh trying to stop you. “We always think about his likings and well-being” his mother was the one to answer now.
“Really? Was that your intention when you were trying to set him up with all kind of rich girls? I thought it was because you didn’t want him to be around people with less money than him, you know… from different worlds”
The room fell silent after your last statement. “I won’t let you disrespect us like this in our own home” his father’s tone of voice changed completely. It frightened you now. Did you cross the line? “Father please—“
“We all have different opinions about the topic, I believe I haven’t disrespected anyone now”, you tried to keep yourself calm. “You can state your opinion as long as it’s not attacking us directly” his mother responded.
“This only show’s how little you know your son, and it’s sad” you made them shut up, Doyoung’s hand still on your thigh, but you weren’t going to stop now. “You will never know the amazing young boy he is because you’ve forced him to grow up as a man too fast. He has never had a free childhood, he has never had the chance on making memories with his friends as a normal kid, because of you”
“Y/N—“Doyoung tried to stop you.
“I know that maybe I’m not here for the long run, but while I’m here I will support him on doing everything he wants to do and I won’t impose him my own decisions, just like you, as his parents, have done all of his life” you finally said, standing up and stomping out of the room. Yes, maybe you did cross the line. But you couldn’t stop.
The anger that had built inside of your chest was too much to handle anymore. You had to let it out. The room you shared with Doyoung suddenly felt small and the air in it didn’t feel enough.
“What was that?!” he entered, harshly closing the door behind him. “What?! Me defending you in front of your parents?!” you answered back with the same tone. You were not having it anymore, you’ve let him guide this game you were both playing, but it was time to change the rhythm.
“I tried to stop you but you kept talking shit Y/N!”
“I kept—?! I only said what you’ve been thinking your whole life Doyoung! I had the courage to do it”
“Because you don’t know a damn thing!”
“What is wrong with you?! You asked me to do this!”
His fists were tightly clenching on his side. “Why are you so afraid of everything, Doyoung?” you asked him after getting no response. His eyes were lost again, and you moved forward to be closer to him. The scoff that he let out took you by surprise. “I believe you’re not the right one to talk about being scared of confronting the situations”
“I confronted your parents, something you haven’t done in your whole life”
“Yes, because you haven’t lived with them Y/N!” He snapped back, his eyes getting glossy with tears. “You have had a simple and slow life Y/N, you don’t know what it feels like to be constantly thrown around to learn things you don’t need just because you could be judged by other people! You don’t know what it feels like to grow up lonely, because you had no time on making friends, or just because your friends were like every other rich old man! You don’t know what is like to grow up without being loved!”
His words were harsh on you but he didn’t plan on stopping. “I don’t know what love is Y/N, I haven’t received that from anyone in this world, not even my parents! But you know what? At the end of the day they’re everything I have, and if I push them completely away from me I would lose it all, do you comprehend the situation now Y/N?”
He was leaving you speechless. Of course you hadn’t imagined the situation from his perspective. You were just a selfish person who thought that making a scene like that one would be something heroic. You had definitely crossed the line.
“Doyoung I’m—“
“No, don’t tell me you’re sorry!” he stopped you, taking a seat on the bed. His head was on his hands, covering his face, but he was still holding back his tears. You didn’t know how to react, nor what to do.
“You know what I’ve learned after all this years, Y/N?” he asked. He looked up at you, his eyes red, but no tears were seen. “That you need a lot of courage to let yourself be loved”. Those words hit you right in the chest, and you were not ready to receive the bullets. “A courage that can almost be heroic”
You knew he was talking directly about you. He had turned the tables. He had change the game after reading your mind. He was unconsciously trying to win. “Most people can’t give nor receive love because they’re cowards, Y/N. Because they’re scared of failure. Like you.”
Your lower lip was already quivering, but you had to stay strong. “You’re ashamed to open yourself to another person or surrender to them because you’re scared that they will discover your secret” he scoffed after that line, “the saddest secret that every human being has inside of them: that you can’t live without love. Everyone is afraid of that.”
You took a step closer to him and stood in front of him. His head was still between his hands.
You hated it. You hated the situation, you hated his words and you hated him. Your only argument was that he was right. He had caught you from the start, he had seen what’s behind your eyes from the very first moment, that’s why he knew how to behave around you.
You took his chin with your finger to make him look up at you. “I accept it” was the only thing you said. His eyes trailed up your body to finally meet with your eyes. “I accept the fact that I wasn’t able to stop thinking about you ever since I met you”
His eyes were shining, but no emotions were shown. With a deep sigh you decided to risk it all. You’ve been running away for too long now, you’ve been a coward all of your life. And you wanted to prove him wrong.
Moving forward you placed one leg on each side of his waist, sitting down on his lap. His hands fell automatically on your waist, as if they’ve been there all of his life. You were still holding his face between your hands, but he didn’t give any sign of wanting to move away. “Everything you said…you’re right” you whispered.
Both of your faces were too close. With a simple movement you could finally kiss him. That’s when you realized for how long you’ve longed that feeling. His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips constantly, but he wouldn’t move. “You’ll stop being a coward?” he asked, directly daring you to be the one taking the first step.
In a heartbeat you moved forward to let your lips fall on top of his. You didn’t know if it was because of all the rage you both had inside, but it wasn’t a soft nor tender kiss. It was hard, full of passion and… hurt? His hands moved quickly, making you move closer to him, totally closing the gap between you two.
His hold was tight, as if he was afraid you’d run away now. You could barely breathe while kissing him because of the hurry he had on savouring every moment. He made sure you knew whose breath you were breathing, where you belonged.
Your hands were tangled in the back of his head. You’ve never felt like this making out with anyone before. He made your body move on top of his while his fingers were moving up and down your back.
His mouth moved from yours to start kissing your neck. His body was pressed even harder against yours as you were still on top of him, making you feel his chest against yours and his back muscles with your own hands.
You could feel his dick grow hard through his pants. Not wanting to waste any more time he turned you around to let you fall on the bed, him positioning himself on top of you. You were already feeling too aroused just by making out with him. His eyes were closed as he slowly made his way down your neck, making you stand up to take off your shirt, quickly followed by your pants.
His hands were running up and down your legs, but his eyes still closed. As he took off your panties you knew you were already soaked, and with a simple peck on your pussy your legs trembled. It would be too much to handle if you let him indulge there.
Taking his head with your hands you made him finally look up to you, crashing your lips again against one another. His clothes were quick to follow behind yours, as both of you laid down naked, both of your bodies completely glued to one another.
Without a word being said you both only maintained the eye contact, and that was more than enough for you. He slowly slip into you, but steadily found the rhythm. Every powerful thrust inside of you pushed the headboard of the bed hard against the wall. The pain at the beginning was undeniable, but the pleasure of him being inside of you felt too good.
The sound of the wetness of your centre and the heavy grunts and breaths were the only thing that filled the room, his eyes never leaving yours. You didn’t know what he did to you, but you had never felt like this before.
One of his hands moved to rise more one of your legs, getting a better angle, and as much as you hated it you knew it wouldn’t be long before he threw you over the edge. “Doyoung—“
But he shut you up by crashing his lips once again against yours, also muffling your cry out after reaching your climax.
Both of your chests were rising and falling with deep breaths. He was still on top of you, and your hands were caressing the back of his neck. A thin layer of sweat was covering both of your bodies but you didn’t want him to move away, ever.
Suddenly, the heavy breathing turned into a soft sob. He didn’t dare to look up, but you could feel the wetness of his tears on your neck. All of his muscles were tense, and you could feel that he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Hugging him even tightly you kissed the top of his head as you let him rest there on top of you, letting all of his emotions pour out of his eyes in form of tears. “I’m here Doyoung” you whispered to calm him down, but you also knew he needed to let everything out.
“I’m here for you”
With your every word his tears fell down harder, his hands holding you tightly. He was scared. He also took the risk by opening up to you, and now he was scared you’d be the one to leave.
None of you talked about what had happened the night prior when you both woke up the next day, naked and tangled in each other’s arms and legs. He wasn’t distant, but you knew his mind was somewhere else, concentrated on something else.
“We’re going back home today” he announced still in bed, his forearm covering his eyes, at which you could only nod with your head still resting on top of his chest. “What will you do when you go back?” he asked, but nothing was clear now. You didn’t expect this to happen. “I don’ know”, he smiled at your words but didn’t respond.
It would be a lie if you said your head wasn’t a mess. The flight back home was filled with silence. Doyoung was once again reading one of his books, with his right hand tightly grasping at yours. You didn’t know what would happen from now on, but you also didn’t want to overthink it. You both had finally found someone who you could open up to, but was it that easy?
He didn’t mention anything about it either, making you feel uneasy inside, but you also didn’t want to pressure him. The frustration inside was growing fast but you couldn’t let it win, not now that you’d found him.
But just when you thought you’ve found him. He was gone.
I still don’t know how to react to everything that happened this weekend, I can only say I’m sorry. I’ve felt neglected my whole life and you were the one that opened my eyes completely, Y/N. You don’t even know how grateful I am for you.
After I left you in your house on Sunday I couldn’t sleep that night. Everything felt different for me, as if you had changed my point of view. There were a million thoughts racing in my mind, and they all had one thing in common: you.
But I know I cannot be the man that you need by your side right now, in this moment. That’s why I’m sorry. I still have a long way to run before I reach you. You’ve managed to show me, in such a short amount of time, that I should do whatever makes my heart dance inside of my chest. And we both know that my life was miserable here. But I’m trying to change.
That’s why I’m turning back to Paris. My parents weren’t happy about it, of course. But I promised them I would work for the company from there, and at the same time I’ll focus on finding my own true passions. My own path in life.
I know this sounds selfish. And it is. And I’m sorry about it. But I also feel like this is my only way to grow up as a person, and as the man you deserve to have by your side.
I’ve never told you this but…you’re the first girl that makes me cry. I’ll never forget that, hope you don’t either.
I can’t ask you to wait for me, and I won’t. That’d be crossing the line and making you suffer even more (this is not easy for me either), but I hope you forever remember me and that night we shared. I hope you forever remember that I gave you my heart there. And I don’t plan on getting it back.
I also returned you the portrait. I hope the day we meet again I don’t look like it anymore. I hope you can portray me again, but this time as my true self. As someone happy and confident, someone who has succeeded in life on his own way. I hope you feel proud the day you do it. I really do.
You are a brilliant person Y/N. I have never met anyone like you. And I know you will go far in life. Please, don’t forget about me. Please, think about me. Please, don’t let me die in your memory.
I’ll be waiting for you, forever, in the dreamer’s city.
You both lived in different worlds. You both had different views of life. But sometimes those things are the ones that bring people together. Doyoung reaching out for you to help him will completely change your life—something you didn’t expect to happen. And you helping him out will completely open his eyes to what the real world looked like, what the world outside of all the money and luxury he was accustomed to was. Maybe you both could learn something from one another in this journey to the dreamer’s city.
pairing: suh johnny x jeong jaehyun x lee jeno x na jaemin x fem!oc/reader (no name used, written in third person)
genre: smut, basically pwp, best friends!au
summary: five friends rent a house together for a few weeks to enjoy summer like they used to do when they were younger, thinking that nothing could change their friendship. But teasing leads to pent-up tension and tension leads to problems. Problems that can’t be fixed by playing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ like when they were young.
warnings: smut, sexual tension, implied masturbation, unprotected sex, fivesome, (not discussed) dom/sub dynamics, fingering (f), rimming (f), oral (m), double penetration, spit roasting, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise, minor choking, anal sex (f receiving), spitting, light hair pulling, size kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, minor orgasm control, minor dumbification, (hard) dom!johnny, dom!jaehyun, (hard) dom!jeno, dom!jaemin, sub!oc/reader, filth just pure filth.
words: 11.765k
a/n: the 4J smut nobody asked for is here. I think I struggle writing things with no emotions so this one was pretty much a challenge for me, but I hope it’s not too bad and you’ll enjoy it. I made it sound deep in the summary but the ‘problems’ are just them being horny. Let me know what you think with comments, reblogs or asks. ♡
They had no idea if she was doing it on purpose, but the more they stared at her, the more they couldn’t get what the hell had happened in over a year.
When she had to move out of town for a job opportunity and they stopped seeing her, they were still used to a pretty innocent woman that would always get shy at their sexual jokes or, most of the time, don’t get them at all. But the woman in front of them was a completely changed person. And none of them expected these two weeks together, locked in the same house, to be this hard.
“This was exactly what we needed,” she exclaimed as she faced the balcony of their rented house, looking at the view in front of her, a drink Johnny just made in hand and a big floppy hat covering her from the sun.
“Most definitely,” Jeno replied from behind, lounging on a sunbed with one arm behind his head, forcing his eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, to drift away from her barely covered ass and stare at the view – like he could give two shits about the sea and the beach in front of them.
“We should go to the beach again,” she said, turning around, resting her elbows on the railing, and looking at all of her friends with a smile on her face. “We’ve spent these first two days locked in.”
“It’s hot,” Jaemin replied, “I don’t get why you want to go down to the beach when we have a pool right here.”
“You’re so lazy,” she huffed, waving him off but then moving to sit between him and Jaehyun, wiggling her ass to fit between them, pushing their open legs close so she could squeeze in. “Why don’t you like going there?”
He snickered, shaking his head and trying not to pay attention to the way her skin was rubbing against his. “Too many people. You know I hate crowds.”
“But the sea is funnier,” she whined, turning around, pouting at him, leaning forward to give him big doe eyes to convince him to go with her.
And Jaemin wouldn’t have given up easily if only his eyes didn’t fall on her chest, pressed up and half exposed by the top of the skimpy white bikini. “I’ll come,” he replied just to make her move from that position before he could get a hard-on in front of everybody.
“See, I can always convince you,” she cheered, not noticing anything, not even the way the other three, in the meanwhile, were rather lost in the other curves of her body.
What the hell were they thinking about? They all mentally cursed, shaking themselves out of their thoughts, some of them feeling more guilty and some others just to keep their morality in line but their reason was the same. They couldn’t screw up fifteen years of friendship for being horny. They all cherished her and their friendship. So they came up with the silent mutual agreement of not ruining everything for sex. The nights there were young, and there were so many hot women they could get, it was just a matter of time before she would’ve slipped back into the back of their minds and simply stayed as their dearest friend.
But they were wrong.
Jeno was the first one to lose his mind. He just couldn’t help to look at her in another way when she wasn’t doing anything to don’t make him fall to his knee and wait for the right moment to have her.
“You’ll get skin cancer if you don’t protect yourself,” she said while her hands moved on his toned body – beautifully toned body, she would’ve said – trying not to get lost on it for too long, wondering since when he had so many muscles.
Jeno mumbled a brief response while he tried to keep his eyes open so his horny-dumb-brain wouldn’t have started to imagine her hands somewhere else on his body. “’kay, are you done?” He asked when she reached too close to his lap, standing up and smiling awkwardly.
“Yes, but can you help me too?” She pouted, passing him the bottle of sunscreen and tilting her head to the side.
“On your body?” He asked, scratching his neck.
“Yeah, silly, where else would you want to apply it?”
“Sure,” he replied, pulling his lips in a tight line. “Turn around and lay,” he said, waiting for her to take place in his old position. He had to take a deep breath before squeezing the cold cream in his hands and starting to apply it on her shoulders, her back, hardly skipping her round perky ass, and down to the back of her thighs and legs.
“Oh,” she moaned, “you’re really good with your hands, you know?”
“Oh, sure I am,” he replied with a smug smirk without realizing, “I mean,” he coughed, “I give pretty good massages.”
“Uhm, uhm,” she moaned again, eyes closed and lips parted. And Jeno had to gather all the will in his body to don’t move her bikini to the side and fuck her right there to see how even prettier she would’ve looked if those sounds came from even more pleasure.
“Turn around,” he said, shaking his head as if to scroll those thoughts out of his mind. “Do you also need my help here?”
“Yeah, I covered your whole body, do the same.”
“Fine,” he sighed, splashing more cream in his hands and doing the same in the front of her body. “Why are you laughing?” He asked, while his hands were on her stomach, her soft smooth skin making him want to taste so much more than just that.
“Nothing,” she said but her lips were still turned up in a playful grin while she stared at his hesitant hands.
“Okay, come on, now, what’s this?”
“As soon as I complimented you, your hands started shaking,” she smiled, sitting up once he was done, and brushing a strand of long black-greenish hair behind his ear. “You’re cute,” she said before leaving a kiss on top of his nose and getting up, running outside to reach the others in the pool.
Jeno stood there for a while, frozen, before he sighed loudly, shaking his head. “She’s going to make me go insane.”
The second one to realize that the plan wasn’t working was Johnny.
He wasn’t used to hearing her pick up all his dirty jokes, so he kept making them and every time got taken aback when she would, not only flirt back, but sometimes, even start it all.
“Could you please stop taking so much space on the couch?” She whined, trying to fit next to him as they tried to choose a movie to watch.
“Hey, you know I’m a big guy,” he replied with a smirk on his face and winking, expecting her to squirm and hide in embarrassment.
“Do I?” She replied, looking at him in the eyes, smirking back. “You know, I’m a visual learner,” she joked, clicking her tongue before turning her attention to the tv again, chuckling lowly as she could still see his stunned expression and feel how his body tensed up.
But Johnny tried to hide it, and cleared his throat, squeezing in his seat to leave her more room.
Or when they were in the kitchen, trying to fit the frozen mixture of a cake they decided to prepare into a form.
“It will never fit,” Johnny groaned, throwing his head back, and shaking his red-brown hair out of his face since his hands were dirty.
“Don’t you know how to be patient?” She asked, coming to his side, taking the dough in her hands and placing it on a plate for a moment. “If it doesn’t slide in,” she said, voice lower than usual as she dirtied her fingers with butter, “it means that you have to get it nice and wet and slippery,” she explained while her fingers ran over the sides of the silicone form before she gently squeezed the dough inside. “See, how easy it is to make it fit if you take it slow?”
Johnny hummed, looking away from her fingers, trying to scroll out of his mind the thought of those fingers being inside of her as he watched how she would take care of herself. “Thanks, I guess,” he babbled, forcing a smile on his face and trying to avoid her teasing gaze.
She shrugged, patting his shoulder with her clean hand. “A shame, by the way, I always imagined you as someone that knew how to take it slow,” she winked, before leaving the kitchen.
Oh, he thought that too before her.
The third to give up was Jaemin. For him, it was the constant touches. The way her hands always found a way on his skin, or in his hair, touching him as if her life depended on it.
When he played video games she always found an excuse to sit on his lap, unknowingly – he wasn’t so sure about that – grinding against him. Or when he wanted to enjoy the peace of the evening and read something outside of the porch she was always there, snuggling close to him. But worsts of it all were their days at the beach.
“Your skin is so soft,” she cooed one day while they were sitting under the umbrella and her head was resting against his shoulder, her hands gently caressing his arm.
“Thanks,” he stuttered, not really knowing what to say, too afraid that, if said more, not-so-appropriate sounds would’ve rolled out of his mouth. Why was she touching him like this? Why was her leg so pressed against his? Wasn’t she hot? And why the hell she never asked the others to go with her? Did she like making him suffer?
She chuckled, moving one hand up under his chin and turning his face toward hers. “Thank you for always coming with me here,” she purred, letting her hand trail up and reach his dark-brown hair, ruffling them playfully. “You’re the best.”
Jaemin swallowed, trying to keep his eyes on hers and not on her soft, plump lips and don’t lean in to kiss her, smiling lightly and thinking that fuck, this was going to be harder than he imagined.
The last one to fall was Jaehyun. He couldn’t really get why she insisted so much to train with him, she had never been a gym girl anyway. But now she was always with him for the few hours he would spend in the small gym inside the house. And he hated it.
He hated the way the pink leggings wrapped around her body. He hated the way her tits bounced when she ran and he could hardly take his eyes off of them. He hated the moans that rolled past her lips when she had to push her body past its limits. And he hated himself because he wasn’t one that typically lost control, so why was he losing it with his best friend?
“I don’t get why you’re always here,” he whispered one time, chuckling, shaking his head as he kept his focus on the weights he was cleaning. Pretending they were much more interesting than her passing a cloth over her body to dry the sweat.
“To stay fit?” She replied as if it was obvious.
“Yeah, but why? Since when?”
“Why not? I’m with you. I don’t have all those other judgmental people I’d have in a real gym and I get to see muscles anyway,” she winked, patting his head.
Jaehyun stuttered something under his breath before lifting his head to stare at her. “My muscles?”
“Oh, please, don’t act as if you’re not aware of the body you carry around.”
He smirked, lowering his head to hide the blush. “And you like the body I carry around?”
She giggled, stealing a white towel close to his seat, and wrapping it around her shoulder before walking to the door. “I love it,” she winked and then sent him a flying kiss that he didn’t even try to catch, too caught up in this. Too caught up in her.
“Tell me you’re seeing her,” Jeno cried out in exasperation when he barged into Johnny’s room, knowing he would’ve found all of them there. She went out to buy something, giving them a bit of time to breathe.
They quirked a brow, putting down their phones to look at him. “Her as in our best friend or another girl that’s making you lose your mind?” Johnny asked, throwing his head back to look at him.
Jeno sighed, running a hand in his hair and pulling. “Yes, congratulations, you got it. Of course, it’s her, who else could it be?”
“And? What do you want us to do?” Jaemin asked, twirling in the chair, resting his head against his fist.
“I don’t know, but she either calms down or I can’t promise you I’ll be able to resist much more,” he huffed. “She’s doing it on purpose, she’s never been like this.”
“Or maybe you never wanted to look at her like that,” Jaehyun said, shrugging.
“Please, don’t tell me that a year ago she was the same,” he groaned. “Have you ever seen her wear those skimpy dresses? Wear so much jewellery? Do her hair so nicely? Or be so touchy all the time?”
“She had never been ugly, though,” Jaemin said, “Jae’s right.”
Jeno rolled his eyes. “It’s not about being ugly but she was so fucking innocent and naïve and now she’s… she’s always the one flirting,” he snapped. “With everybody.”
Johnny laughed. “Yeah, you mad because it’s not you.”
“Shut the hell up,” he retorted. “I was trying to be nice because I know you want her just as well, and you know she wouldn’t say no to me. So… how are we going to do this?”
“Are we planning this?” Jaemin asked, furrowing his brows. “You’re making it sound like a bank robber.”
“Well, it could be even more dangerous than that.”
A few days passed as they tried to test the waters, sneaking around her, trying to flirt back and tease her just as much without slamming her against a wall or any surface they had near them. But nothing really happened, just her usual jokes, and light touches and then she would walk away as if nothing happened, leaving them high and dry.
Their plan was to try to push her harder until she would’ve picked one of them and they couldn’t get mad at each other or fight over who should’ve tried their luck. But nothing. Not even a glimpse of intention of going all way with one of them. Just a long and gruelling torture made of teasings and sexual tension that wasn’t leading them anywhere.
“I’m telling you, I can’t do this tonight,” Jeno warned them, sipping on a cocktail as he leaned back against ‘their table’. They were at a beach party near their rented house, organised by some people they met there but it wasn’t like any of them could really care about the party when they had her.
She was going around collecting drinks, and men, dancing on everybody, letting way too many foreign hands roam on her body and – worst of it all – she wouldn’t miss the chance to look and smirk at them when they casually faced the same way.
“You say it every time and you didn’t fuck her yet,” Jaehyun sang, raising a brow before sipping from his drink too, eyes never leaving her body swinging in a man’s arms.
Jeno glared at him and then clenched the glass tighter. “It’s not like I can force her, can I? And didn’t we have a pact between us? I’m just being nice with you guys because I’m more than sure that with some more talking she would fuck me with no hesitation.”
“Would she?” Jaemin asked, peaking his head forward to look at him. “Because it looks like we’re all in the same boat.”
“Then what do we do?” Johnny asked, shaking his hair out of his face, winking at her when their eyes met.
“Man, I don’t know, if I had a solution to this problem I would’ve solved it,” Jeno replied.
“Hey, guys.” There she was, chest panting, sweat pearling her skin, hair flying lightly in the sea breeze, and a bright smile on her face. A vision that made them all stop in their tracks and get lost in the shape of her body. “Guys?”
“Yeah, uhm, yeah,” they replied, shaking their heads and swallowing, trying to hide the embarrassment of being caught, and luckily for them, she simply chuckled. “The drinks are already getting to your head, aren’t they? You really can’t take it anymore.”
They all snickered and then Jeno replied, “no, we seriously can’t take it anymore.”
“I’m getting bored here,” she pouted, squeezing in between Jeno and Johnny and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. “Can we go home and play something just between us?”
“Bored? It seems like you are having so much fun, there,” Jaehyun joked, and Jeno hit his stomach with his elbow, making him groan in pain.
“We can surely go home, now, as soon as possible,” he replied, pulling her away from the others.
“I need my shoes,” she whined, trying to push back.
“Johnny will get them for you, we just have to walk on the sand, come on, now,” he insisted. “Want me to carry you? Want to see how strong I am?”
The other rolled their eyes hearing his words and watching as he carried her to their place, their giggles fading in the distance.
“We better hurry before he seriously talks her through getting dicked down,” Jaehyun warned them.
Once they were all inside, they decided to play beer pong, which wasn’t even beer. But whatever mix of alcohol they had put in was good.
“So the winners get what?” Jaemin asked, reaching the other side of the table to stay at Johnny’s side to get ready to play.
“Nothing,” she replied, “it’s just for fun, why would you want to win something?”
“Then who loses should get a penalty, at least,” Jeno said. “Come on, there’s no fun with no penalties.”
“Swapping clothes with someone else,” she shrugged, grabbing the ping-pong ball.
“Hey, what’s the fun in that? If they lose they would wear your dress and you wear their big shirt and jeans?”
She chuckled, “What? Sad you won’t be able to stare at my body anymore?”
Jeno coughed while the others laughed under their teeth. “I don’t stare at your body,” he retorted with an obvious lie. “But fine, clothes swapping for the losers.”
So they finally started playing, their team leading with 5-3 out of 10 points against Johnny and Jaemin, but they never reached the final game. She wasn’t dumb, she knew what was going on, they had never been so clingy, and it surely wasn’t because she needed help to play the game. Jaehyun and Jeno’s hands rested on her back for most of the time and Johnny and Jaemin were concentrated on everything but where to aim the ball.
“Would you please stop looking at me like this?” She asked, turning around to lean against the table, arms crossed in front of her chest, not throwing the ball but placing it in one of the glasses.
“Like what?” Jeno asked, playing dumb.
She snickered, fanning her hair back, and curling her lips in a grin. “Like you want to fuck me.”
“What?” They all gasped, pretending to be shocked, shaking their heads, Johnny and Jaemin moving around the table to walk toward them.
She scoffed, chuckling under her breath. “Seriously? What? I see the way you look at me,” she started saying, getting up and walking around them. “The way you’ve been looking at me since this holiday started,” she smirked, one finger running up and down Jeno and Jaemin’s bicep before she walked behind them and reached Johnny and Jaehyun, making them hold their breath in a weird mix of sexual tension and fear of having screwed their friendship up. “You know,” she whispered, walking away and sitting on the couch, legs crossed together and upper body leaning against the backrest, “I thought at least one of you had enough guts to man up and come ask me.”
At the tease, Jaemin snapped, turning to stare at her better. “You think we’re not brave enough?
She shrugged, moving her hair to the side. “Well, you’re there, drooling over me, jacking off thinking of me,” she smirked, eyes glinting at Jaemin that turned red in a second, so she heard him that day... “and yet…” she whispered in a huff, throwing her head back.
“Fine,” Jeno snapped, turning to the boys, “if this is how you want it, we’re picking who gets to fuck you. Rock, paper, scissors.”
She laughed in disbelief. “You’re picking who gets to fuck me with that game? Like when we were kids and you had to choose who played my husband?”
“Yeah, why do you think none of us made the first move?” Jaehyun replied, hand still clenched in a fist, ready to play the game. “It’s a bro thing, it wouldn’t have been fair to us and to you. We were waiting for you to pick but you never made the first move either.”
A smile crossed her face before she turned it into a smirk, “Pick?” She asked, twirling a strand of hair in her finger. “Who says I want to pick?”
They chuckled awkwardly, looking at each other and then at her to see if she was playing, if they were all in the same perverted and weird dream or if this was a just as sick and perverted reality. And when it turned out to be the latter, they all laughed.
“Yeah, fine, nice joke, but you’re still not as funny as me,” Johnny said.
She laughed too. “You seriously are so dumb at picking up signals,” she huffed, one hand moving to trail on her thigh, moving the dress up so slowly it felt like torture but none of them seemed to find the strength to move, it was like there was an invisible wall separating them. “I thought I was the loser, innocent one of our group but turns out that having fucked half of the earth’s population doesn’t make you smart either when it comes to this.”
“Hey! We didn’t fuck half of the population,” Jaemin complained. “And you are the innocent one… well,” he gulped, getting lost in the way her fingers were tracing her body, moving up to her stomach, to her breast, to her neck and then back down, “you were.”
She snickered, “So? Do I have to put on a show for you to get somewhere? Because apparently, the ones I’ve been putting on weren’t enough to make you grow some balls and confront me.”
“Okay, you need to stop this,” Jeno warned, getting mad at the teasing. “We respect you.”
“Yeah, and we’re friends and we’ve known each other for so long, we wiped your tears when those silly boys broke up with you because you weren’t ready to have sex,” she mocked, rolling her eyes back. “And I don’t care. I think we’ve crossed that line for a little while now, don’t you think so?”
They looked at each other with a frown but then hummed.
“So let’s cross it even physically,” she proposed, leaning forward. “If I have to regret something I want to regret the best fuck of my life, not some mental games that are bringing me no pleasure at all.”
“Okay, is this seriously you, or did somebody exchange you?” Johnny asked, raising a brow, still not fully believing her words.
“People can change so much over a year, babe,” she winked. “But since you look so taken aback, I have a pretty long list of people at the beach that wouldn’t say no…”
“No!” Jeno shouted, walking to her in a second and pushing her back down on the couch. “I don’t care what they say but I am not losing this chance with you tonight.”
“Good,” she smirked. “And you? Want to play rock, paper, scissors with your morals and then decided what to do?”
“Fuck it, I know what I want to do,” Jaehyun exclaimed, placing the cup down and walking toward her.
“You two?” She asked one last time, smiling at the last two friends. And with just one last look at each other, they were all over her, lips hungrily kissing her skin and hands touching every inch of her body with much more vigor than in the past days.
“Oh, wow,” she chuckled, “you truly were holding back these days.”
“Shut up,” Jeno scolded against her ear. “You are such a fucking tease, you knew what you were putting us through.”
She only giggled at his words, enjoying the others’ greedy attention. “As if you weren’t enjoying that.”
“We hated that,” Johnny retorted. “Maybe we should teach you a little lesson. Give you a taste of your own medicine.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to do that,” she teased but got immediately shut down when Jeno kissed her harshly and tugged her hair, making her lips part in the kiss to let out a low whimper.
“Let us show you, dear,” he replied when he pulled away, standing up to get rid of his shirt. Her eyes trailed on his body, watching his muscles flex and having to close her slightly parted mouth to don’t drool at the sight. “Yeah, you love this, don’t you?” He teased, kneeling next to her again. “You could’ve had me much before if only you didn’t put up with your stupid teasing game.”
“My stupid –”
“Shhh,” he shut her up with a finger on her lips, “no talking back, it’s useless.”
She gulped, but couldn’t help to let a small smile creep on her face at this unknown side of him. She heard stories about Jeno in bed but well, they were best friends, she never dug too deep into them and now…
“Look at you,” Jaehyun said in awe, “you really do love this.” He was a little taken aback, no matter how much he wanted her, he knew her, well, he thought he knew her, and he wasn’t so sure she could keep up with their rhythms and kinks but apparently, he was wrong.
Johnny snickered when she hummed, smiling at Jaehyun. “Should we test just how much you love this?” He asked, letting his hands travel under her dress and gripping the elastic of the panties to slowly pull them down. “Should we see how far we can push you before it gets too much for our little, innocent best friend?”
She smirked, humming lowly. “Or how much of me you can take.”
“You’re still not done with your stupid games, I see,” Jeno huffed. “Well, we’ll put an end to this soon,” he said before unexpectedly lifting her up, making her gasp. “My bedroom, now,” he ordered to the others as he carried her upstairs on his shoulder.
When they reached the bedroom, Jeno was on top of her, his hand already teasing her wet pussy while his lips kept tormenting the skin of her neck.
“You’re so greedy,” Jaemin complained, jumping on the bed next to her, kissing her too, “you want everything to yourself.”
“Not my fault you can’t keep up with me,” Jeno replied, pulling away and spreading her legs more. “And look at you,” he teased, fingers smearing her wetness and playing with her clit, “so wet already? Have you been thinking about us all night while you let those other men touch you?”
She hummed against Jaemin’s lips and gasped lowly when she felt Johnny’s lips wrap around her hard nipple.
“You’re so pretty,” Jaehyun whispered, touching her thigh, but his eyes were stilled where Jeno’s fingers were still moving on her.
“And excited,” Jeno added when two fingers slipped into her with ease. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
She whined, pulling away from Jaemin’s kiss. “Stop teasing, just fuck me already.”
A burst of deep laughter rolled out of their lips, “Desperate little thing,” Johnny mocked. “I thought we had to get you nice and wet and slippery,” he whispered close to her ear, marking every word, reminding her what she had told him before, making her lift her gaze on him and suppress a moan when Jaehyun’s fingers slipped past her entrance too. “See,” he chuckled darkly, pulling away from her, “you have a lot to take, babe. You don’t want to break, right?”
“I won’t break,” she bit back, huffing, head rolling back when Jeno and Jaehyun’s fingers started stretching her more, rubbing so against her walls.
“No, you won’t,” Jaemin whispered, kissing her chest and then biting down on her nipple, eliciting a soundless gasp from her. “You wanted this. Wanted all of us.”
“Yeah, you won’t back down, right? Realize we’re more than you can take a run away like a scared little kitty?” Jeno teased, pushing one of her legs further down so it touched the mattress completely, exposing her more, making her whine as shame crept up.
“Please, nobody believes you’re shy after all you’ve done these past days,” Jaehyun teased, moving her hands out of her face.
“You can’t feel embarrassed with us, right?” Johnny cooed, caressing her cheek, blocking her wrists over her head so Jaehyun could focus completely on fingering her. “Your best friends. We’ve seen you grow,” he pouted while his free hand moved down to reach her clit, the stimulation so intense that she couldn’t find the strength to answer, making them all giggle lowly.
“Just started and she’s already wrecked. This ‘s going to be fun,” Jeno whispered but she didn’t even get it, too caught up in the first orgasm approaching. She might’ve not been innocent like she was before – or like they thought she was before – but she had never done anything like this, four men all over her, touching, kissing, licking every inch of her body. A fantasy she wanted to try for so long but never imagined she would have the chance to, especially not with her best friends.
“’M close,” she moaned, one hand wrapping around Jaemin’s hair while he was still pressed against her boobs sucking her nipple, and the other leaving marks on Johnny’s thigh.
“Oh, already?” Jeno cooed, stilling his movements inside of her, making Jaehyun follow.
“No, please, please, don’t stop. I’ve been good, why would you – shit – oh,” she gasped when they picked up again, laughing at her.
“Just wanted to hear you beg,” Jeno replied, shrugging. “You know, you always demand in our friendship, always so good at making us do whatever you want.”
“Can you please make me come?” She pleaded, fluttering her eyes at them.
“See, why you never think about us?” Johnny huffed, quickening the pace on her sensitive clit, and then pushing two fingers into her mouth, freeing her wrists. “That’s better,” he cooed, “stop whining and just take what we give you.”
She hummed around his digits, tightening the hold around Jaemin that never stopped torturing her nipples, and squirming under the other three’s hands.
“Just because I can’t wait to be inside of you,” Jeno said, fingers pumping in and out harder, filling her when Jaehyun’s were out and vice versa, never stopping stimulating her, “come for us, come on,” he ordered.
The first orgasm hit her hard, leaving her shaking already, and once she came down from the high they gave her no time to breathe.
As soon as Johnny pulled his fingers out of her mouth, Jeno pushed his, covered in her cum, in, forcing them down her throat. “Taste yourself, babe,” he ordered. “Like this, so good.”
“Are you ready for the real thing?” Jaemin asked, getting rid of all his clothes, thick cock springing out of his boxer, red tip leaking pre-cum, making her mouth part in awe.
“Are you going to fuck me first?”
“Want to complain even about that?” Jeno tsked, shaking his head.
“I wasn’t complaining,” she glared at him, sitting up and crawling to Jaemin to kiss him.
“Want to fuck your ass,” he confessed against her lips, making her pull away and chuckle nervously as she stared at him with a furrow on her face.
“Oh, princess has never been fucked in the ass before,” Johnny laughed at her expression.
“No, I…” she started mumbling but Jaemin kissed her again, hands travelling down to cup her full ass and squeeze it in his palms, eliciting a low moan from her.
“It will feel good, baby,” he cooed. “You trust me, right? You know Nana won’t ever hurt you.” The sweet – yet, condescending – tone of his voice made the other chuckle at his attempt to ease her into this but she found it normal, it was a usual Jaemin trick, it couldn’t have led to anything dangerous, right? Anyway, she did trust him and she was willing to try.
“Just… prep me,” she whimpered when his fingers grazed her sensitive rim.
A big proud smile crept on Jaemin’s face. “Fuck, I love you,” he exclaimed before signaling her to lay on the bed with her face against the mattress.
She closed her eyes when the lewd sound of his spit hitting her rim resonated in the room and his lips started working on her, moving with precision and yet eating her out as if she was his last meal. But the sweet gestures stopped soon when his finger slipped past her rim.
“You’re so tight, baby,” he cooed, his sweet tone hiding the devilish smirk on his face as he watched her body hardly taking him. “Need a little help?”
She hummed, nodding, cheeks brushing against the sheets, and eyes squeezed as she tried to relax around his finger, pain mixing with pleasure. It wasn’t that terrible but it still was a weird feeling.
“I don’t think we have lube,” Jeno said before spitting on her ass loudly.
“Ugh,” she moaned, thighs squeezing together and breath faltering.
“Oh,” he whispered, lifting a brow, “you like that…”
“You’re so fucking filthy,” Jaehyun mocked, watching the scene with curios eyes.
“Well, since you love this so much, it will work,” Jaemin shrugged, moving his finger faster inside of her when another string of saliva rolled out of Jeno’s mouth.
“No, what… what if it’ll hurt?” She managed to breathe out, shaking her head, trying to lift her body up from the mattress but Johnny held her right in place, pushing her further down.
“It won’t hurt, alright? You can take it,” he said, caressing her back. “But… since it’s you, I’ll go see if I have some.”
“Tha-thank you,” she mumbled, voice dying in her throat when Jaemin added another finger after he spat on her again.
“Oh, please, it’s not hurting, your pussy is dripping on the sheets. You love this.”
“Mmph, yeah, but – but – fuck – you’re big, so big,” she breathed out, hiding her face in the pillows from embarrassment.
“Oh, little red riding hood got herself in trouble?” Jeno teased, caressing her hair gently before tugging at it and turning her face to the side again. “Fell into the big bad wolf trap imagining you could take it?”
“I can take it,” she retorted, knitting her brows but only making him snicker.
“Whining a little too much for someone that’s sure about her abilities.”
She simply groaned, closing her eyes again and trying to relax even more around Jaemin’s fingers.
“Here it is,” Johnny exclaimed, entering the room again and throwing the bottle at Jeno that caught it swiftly.
“I liked the spit better but anyway,” Jeno shrugged before squirting a big amount of the liquid on her rim.
A louder moan rolled out of her lips when the cold liquid dripped inside her and Jaemin’s fingers started moving faster now that there was no friction against her insides.
“Can you please have some patience? She loves this so much, just look at her,” Jaemin replied, eyes drifting from him to the string of cum that was drooling out of her pussy and the way her ass was clenching around his three fingers.
“Yes, and imagine how much she’d love your cock,” he replied with a fake kind smile on his face. “Tell him, babe,” he ordered, tugging her hair again and arching her back, “tell him how badly you need your pretty ass to be filled with his big cock.”
The nasty words and the condescending tone made her insides twitch, pussy clenching around nothing and mouth opening wider. “Need you,” she mumbled, trying to open her eyes and tilt her head more to look at Jaemin.
Johnny chuckled, pushing her upper body up completely, cupping her cheeks and squeezing tight. “Tell him exactly what you need. We know you’re not innocent so stop fucking pretending.”
She gulped, falling on her hands when Johnny let go without a warning. “Jaem,” she whispered, looking past her shoulders, “need your – mmh – need your cock to fuck my ass, please,” she moaned, nails gripping the sheets when he stuffed his thumb into her wet pussy, cutting the air out of her lungs. “Please, please, fuck me hard. Jaemin, please.”
He smirked, a low snicker rolling past his lips. “As you wish, princess,” he replied, pulling out, watching as her holes clenched around nothing before he grabbed his dick and lined it against her swollen hole. He leaned against her back, lips brushing against her ear, “but just know I won’t be treating you as one.” He smirked before bottoming out completely, thick dick stretching her more than his three fingers did, making her gasp and collapse against the mattress again, body going limp under him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, throwing his head back and holding her waist tight, “feels so good.”
“Wait, wait,” she mumbled, trying to stand on her hands again but Jeno pushed her down another time. “No, the condom, the – fuck – Jaemin.”
“We’re clean,” Jeno replied instead. “We told you we care for you. Do you really want to see the test results, now?”
She opened her mouth to speak, mumbling something, “You – fuck – you checked yourself?” She asked in disbelief, honestly, it was good but fuck, how desperate they were? How much were they rooting for this to happen?
“Of course, we did,” Jaehyun replied. “Your safeness comes first.”
“You’re – shit – fuck, okay, I guess, I…”
“I think you should just shut up now and relax,” Jaemin shut her midway, slapping her ass cheek. “You said you trusted us. You do trust us, right?”
She nodded, trapping her lower lip between her teeth when he started hitting deeper and faster.
“Tell us that you do,” Jaehyun said, tapping her cheek gently. “Come on.”
“I – I trust you,” she cried, “I trust you – mmph – so much.”
“Good girl,” Johnny cooed. “But I need to feel you, too.”
Her eyes snapped open at his words. “N-now?”
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “What, baby? Too much? You didn’t even see me, yet.”
She snorted, squirming under Jaemin, “I don’t need to see you, fuck.”
“Oh, those rumors spread fast, John,” Jeno joked, hitting him playfully.
Johnny chuckled, “Don’t you want to find out if the rumors are true, baby?”
She nodded, pretty much mindlessly, too caught up in the way Jaemin’s cock was rubbing against her walls and hitting so well inside of her making her head spin miles per hour to really think about what she was putting herself into.
When Johnny freed himself out of his briefs she gasped loudly before her eyes shily reached up to meet his eyes, a proud, evil, smirk on his handsome face. That was always his favourite part.
“Don’t worry, honey,” he purred, fingers under her chin to close her open mouth, “I know how to use it, it won’t hurt.”
She nodded, not really sure about it… if it was only him, maybe… but it was two at the same time, and Jaemin wasn’t that much smaller than him so… Though she didn’t have much time to dwell on it.
“Can you stop fucking her for a second and let me get under her?” Johnny huffed, glaring at Jaemin that unwillingly stopped his movements and waited for Johnny to manhandle her and position himself under her.
“Fuck, Jaemin’s right, your cunt is dripping,” he moaned when he pushed his fat tip against her hole, feeling how wet she was. “Love getting your tiny hole fucked hard by him?” He teased, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him.
“Ye-yeah, he’s good,” she moaned, hands struggling to stand against something to keep her body up and don’t fall forward against him at any hard stroke of Jaemin; he didn’t waste time picking up again as soon as Johnny slipped under her body.
“Come on, fuck her too, need to see how tighter – fuck – she can get,” the younger moaned, stopping once again just to enjoy to the fullest the feeling of her insides getting filled more by Johnny’s dick, too.
Her head fell forward when Johnny eased into her, mouth agape feeling like she was being split in two, no matter how wet she was.
“Fuck, too much,” she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut and digging her nails into Johnny’s biceps.
“Shh, you’re doing good,” he calmed her, starting to pull out slowly, “taking us so well.”
She wept, whining mindlessly and soon after all the mercy disappeared as they both started fucking her again, sending her so close to the edge.
“I think, I…” she gasped, “I think I’m gonna come.”
“Oh, wasn’t that too much?” Jeno mocked.
“But ‘s good, so good.”
A mocking laugh came out of Johnny’s lips while his hand wrapped around her cheeks, thumb brushing against her parted lips. “A little bit pathetic don’t you think so?” Her teary eyes stared back at him before her head rolled back and another orgasm hit when they both slammed hard inside of her, knocking the air out of her lungs.
Jeno snickered, an amused smirk on his face. “They barely started fucking you and you already came? Seriously?”
“You’re having fun, baby, aren’t you?” Jaehyun teased, fingers grazing her neck to turn her toward him.
“Yeah,” she breathed out, nails digging into Johnny’s shoulders, where she was trying to keep the balance, and ass bouncing back against Jaemin, making him groan at the sight.
“Wanted this – fuck – for so long,” Jaemin moaned, hips slapping against her flesh, nails leaving marks on the skin of her waist. “Dreamed about your ass every fucking day.”
“I – I don’t think I can – mhh – last more,. The words struggled to come out of her mouth as her body slumped forward against Johnny.
“I’m sure you can,” Jeno replied, lifting her upper body up again, holding her in place. “Are you tired already?”
“I – I don’t know.” She truly had no idea what she felt, it was good but surely tiring too, she wasn’t used to anything like this.
“Oh, poor baby,” he sang with a mocking tone, fingers brushing against her burning cheeks. “I’m sure you just need a little bit of support more. Jaehyun, come here.”
“What?” The other asked, unwillingly drifting his eyes from where Johnny and Jaemin were fucking her, and stopping the strokes on his cock.
“You heard me, come here,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Our little girl needs another one.”
“A-another one?” She asked, eyes widening, words choking her as she felt the other two deeper than ever inside of her.
“I thought you were dying to get with her,” Jaehyun said in confusion, but he stopped caring about his friend as soon as he moved around and got to see her wrecked face and her tits bounce back and forth at every thrust.
“I have special plans,” Jeno smirked, leaving a soft – and yet somehow scary – kiss on her cheek.
“Come here,” her attention was soon back on Jaehyun that was tapping his fingers against her cheek, hard dick in hand and a terrible urge to fuck her too written in his eyes. “Open your mouth,” he ordered and she followed, lips parting even more and tongue rolling out, making him groan loudly. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
“And dirty,” Johnny muttered through gritted teeth, trying to don’t come just at the lewd scene in front of his eyes, but watching her welcome all Jaehyun’s length inside of her as her eyes rolled back, was making it all too difficult. Especially considering how hot and tight her pussy was and how hard she was squeezing him.
“Yeah, just like that,” Jaehyun moaned when he bottomed against her throat. “Can you suck me or do I have to fuck that pretty little face?” He asked, naturally receiving no answer since she couldn’t talk, already struggling to don’t choke on his thick cock while the other two kept pushing her toward him.
“Just fuck her face,” Jeno said. “I told you she needs more support.”
When Jaehyun held her up by the hair and started thrusting into her mouth she felt her body go limp into their hold. The pleasure of being stimulated everywhere got to her mind, making her body shake into their holds and her brain shut down little by little.
“You’re so good at this, I can’t believe you fooled us for so long,” Jeno said, smacking her ass, making her whimper.
“Do it again,” Jaemin moaned, rolling his head back when she clenched around him, “she loves it.”
“Oh, does she?" Jeno asked, smirking as his hand met her ass again in a loud smack. “Look at you,” he teased with a mocking tone, his big hand still roaming on the skin of her ass, “never thought I’d say this, but you look so pretty stuffed with cocks. Don’t you?” He teased, moving his hand to touch her spit-streaked chin where Jaehyun was still slamming against, and smearing the mess around instead of wiping it away.
“She does,” Johnny moaned, nails digging deeper into the flesh of her waist. “So vulnerable for us.”
“Fuck, I’m – mmh – not gonna last long,” Jaemin groaned, “you’re squeezing me so tight. You love this, don’t you? Love having your little ass fucked hard. Shit, never thought you’d let me."
She gasped hard, struggling to breathe again when Jaehyun pulled out of her mouth.
“Has anybody ever fucked you here before?” Jaemin asked.
She shook her head, “N-no, nobody.”
“Fuck, baby, your first time? And you’re already so good.”
She wanted to answer something but Jaehyun started fucking her mouth once again, making her eyes roll back in pleasure as she could feel another orgasm approach.
“Shit,” Johnny moaned, hips slamming hard up against her, “you’re so cock drunk, look at you. So fucked up I bet you have nothing in your smart brain, do you?”
She whimpered around Jaehyun’s length and they all laughed.
“It’s fine baby, it’s fine,” Johnny cooed, caressing her cheek before his hand slipped down, wrapping around her neck. “You don’t have to think. You just have to let go and trust us.”
She hummed, walls clenching harder when he kept pressing and then letting go around her neck, alternating the flow of air, making her head get even dizzier.
“Fuck, just like this,” Jaehyun moaned when her eyes opened and were rolled back, the view enough to make him groan harder. “Just look pretty for us. Our pretty, precious baby.”
“A pretty babydoll,” Jeno added. “A pretty toy that loves being filled and used by her best friends.”
“Yeah, right, keep clenching. We’re gonna come,” Johnny moaned when, listening to Jeno’s words, her cunt throbbed tighter around them.
She splurted and coughed when her mouth was free once again.
"Come fast, I’m not gonna come in her mouth,” Jaehyun urged, wiping away all the drool on her face.
“Keep – keep going,” she moaned, head falling forward against Johnny’s shoulder. “Feels so good.”
“Gonna fill you up,” Jaemin moaned, grabbing her hair and pushing her flat against his chest. “Do you want it, baby? Do you want my cum?”
“Yeah – yeah, please...”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit,” he cursed, hips slapping more messily against her, “take it, take all my – mmph – my cum,” Jaemin groaned, coming inside of her, cum filling her and triggering her orgasm too.
“Shit,” Johnny moaned, rolling his head back when due to the orgasm she squeezed more around him, “take mine too, come on, want to see you – fuck – full of us.”
Louder moans came out of her mouth when he emptied into her too and they kept fucking her shallowly, stimulating her more.
“God, so good,” Jaemin moaned, pulling out, groaning when his cum dripped out of her gaping ass and fell onto the bedsheets. “Are you okay?” He asked, making circles on the burning skin of her butt with his thumb.
“She is,” Jaehyun huffed, moving to take his place, not giving her time to answer. Not like she could answer anyway, feeling too drowsy. “Come on, you had your fun.”
“Damn, why are yall so greedy,” he huffed, stepping to the side to leave him room to fuck her too.
She could barely process anything, mind still dazed by the pleasure, and high on the way she was being moved around, Johnny lifting her up to move from underneath her and Jaehyun turning her over.
“Want to fuck you too,” Jaehyun said, spreading her legs more, making more cum spill out of her. “Fuck,” he groaned, throwing his head back when he sank into her, “your mouth’s good but this – shit – is so much better.”
She moaned, throwing her head back when he grabbed her ankles and placed them on his shoulders. “Too much,” she mumbled, eyes opening to find a teasing smirk on Jeno’s face over her.
“Did they break you already?” He asked, mocking her.
“No, mhh, he’s too big.” The words barely came out as her eyes squeezed shut, chest panting as he stretched her out more.
“I’m sure you can take it,” Jaehyun said, starting to move faster and leaning closer to her, pressing her legs closer to her chest, reaching even deeper.
“I’m gonna come,” she screamed, hearing them snicker.
“So soon again?” Johnny teased, placing two fingers under her chin and turning her face around so she could look at him.
“Ye-yeah, ‘s too good,” she replied before feeling another orgasm ripple through her when Jaehyun’s fingers started moving on her clit. Her hips bucked up whether it was because of the pleasure or because she felt it was getting too much, she had no idea.
“Shit,” Jaehyun cursed. “Gonna fill you up, you feel too good, fuck,” he groaned before his orgasm hit too, hips faltering and stilling inside of her as he came hard. “Lord,” he exhaled, smiling and pulling out, “you did so good,” he praised, moving her hair back before standing up and leaving her there, trying to catch her breath, not even understanding anymore who was touching her.
She laid against the mattress, already feeling worn out, when Jeno’s strong hands turned her over.
“Hi, pretty,” he cooed, a sadist smirk on his face as he hovered over her, brushing her hair away from her face, “my turn, now.”
“I – I don’t think I can,” she mumbled, lashes fluttering as her watery eyes adjusted the focus on him.
“Oh, no, honey, I’m sure you’re not so tired,” he said, slipping two fingers inside her sopping wet hole, making her moan, and squeeze her thighs together, but Jeno let out a mocking laugh and pushed them apart again. “I know you destroy yourself when you’re alone, right?” He whispered, leaving small bites on her neck and collarbones while his fingers kept moving in and out. “That’s what you do when you don’t answer our calls, too busy destroying this pretty pussy, yeah? Convincing yourself that your fingers are enough, but you need so much more.”
She shook her head, chest panting harder. “N-no.”
“Oh, noo?” He mocked. “I’m sure you give yourself so many orgasms you can take me,” he growled, pulling his fingers out of her and then turning her around swiftly, making her gasp in surprise. “What, doll? You love my arms, you asked so many questions about my muscles and now you get to see what this body does,” he whispered against her ear, pushing her upper body close to the edge of the bed and arching her back up, right knee planting against the mattress at one side and left feet on the other.
“Oh, fuck,” she cried when he entered her in one go. “I – I thought you were – shit,” she whimpered when he started moving right away, “mmph, thought you were going to fuck my –”
“Your cunt?” He asked, snickering, tugging her hair again. “I thought that too, dreamed about being inside your pussy for a week straight,” he moaned, the other hand holding tight on her waist, “but Jaemin’s right, your ass is – fuck – too amazing to be left alone.”
“Don’t act like you’re not all stretched out already,” Johnny said, thumb wiping away the drool that was dripping from her open mouth. “Jaemin fucked you so well before. You loved it, didn’t you?”
She hummed, shaking her head in approval but barely registering his words, just mumbling ‘yes’ and pleas as Jeno’s hips slammed hard against her ass and his hand held her up by the hair.
“Your ass feels so good,” he moaned, pulling her cheeks apart, her head rolled down if only Johnny didn’t force her up again and cupped her chin to kiss her rough, “but I’m not going to miss out on how your pussy feels,” he said and, before she could even realize he had pulled out, he was already inside of her again, but this time in her pussy.
She mumbled something against Johnny’s lips but Jeno only snorted and said, “it’s fine, honey, it’s fine. Shit, you feel too good. Are all your holes so good? Are you so good at everything?”
“Need to try her mouth,” Jaemin said. “Want to be filled to the brim again, umh?”
“Look at how desperate you are,” Johnny mocked when, as soon as he moved to the side and Jaemin stood in front of her, she pushed her tongue out and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “So eager to give us what we want, you’re such a kind girl.”
“Or maybe she’s just a cock-addict,” Jeno mocked, slapping her ass, making her moan louder. “Is that what you are? Is that what you truly are behind the – fuck – nice, innocent, virgin girl?”
She whimpered, arching her ass more and trying to fuck back against him but another smack followed. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”
“Mhh, yes – fuck – that’s what I am,” she moaned, throwing her head back, giving Jaemin the chance to block her there as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and tapped the tip of his cock against her lips.
“Open up, come on, I know you know how to use that pretty mouth,” Jaemin said, moaning loudly when she opened up and he eased in, feeling the warmth of her mouth.
Her mind almost blanked out when they found a rhythm and pushed in and out of her alternately. Jeno’s thrusts were slightly rougher, while Jaemin seemed almost gentle but still made sure to go all the way in and make her gag at every stroke.
“Say it again,” Jeno ordered, pulling out again and thrusting back into her other hole. “Who are you?”
Jaemin pulled out, making her drool some spit and cough, “I – I’m a cock addict,” she almost screamed when his thrusts started getting faster. “That’s all I am.”
“Aww, she’s turning into a whimpering mess,” Jaehyun cooed when she started sucking Jaemin again since he let her more freedom and enjoyed the way her cheeks hollowed and her eyes tried to stay open and look up at him.
“That’s right,” Jeno moaned, slipping out again to penetrate her cunt again. “She’s being such a perfect doll for us. No thoughts left in that pretty smart brain of yours, fuck,” he groaned. “Just full of how it – fuck – how good it feels to be filled from both ends.”
“You’re sucking so well,” Jaemin praised, moving the hair out of her face and pulling out to let her breathe. “You got Johnny and Jaehyun so hard again, how are you going to fix their little problem another time, umh? You’ll suck their cocks too? Or will let them fill you up again?”
Although he didn’t give her time to answer all those questions, not that she would’ve had a single coherent thought in her brain anyway. Jeno was too good at what he was doing. As wrong and dirty and humiliating that back and forth from her holes was, she found it incredibly hot, and the alternation of stimulation was driving her insane. And sucking on Jaemin’s heavy cock while Johnny and Jaehyun jacked off made her turn into a mess even more.
“Wonna wome,” she mumbled, chocking on Jaemin’s dick.
“Do it, I’m so curious to see how many orgasms we’ll drag out of you tonight,” Jeno chuckled with a smirk on his face. “Will we beat your personal record, sweetie?”
She didn’t answer, only let the pleasure run through her, feeling her body get limper, and if only Jeno’s arm didn’t wrap around her waist and held her up, she would’ve collapsed on the mattress.
“Stay here, I’ve got you,” Jeno whispered, pushing her upper body up and holding her close to his toned chest.
“Hey, I didn’t come,” Jaemin whined.
“I didn’t come either and this is my turn,” Jeno barked back, one hand wrapping around her neck without pressing and the other reaching front to play with her clit.
“No, no, I’m – don’t – shit,” she whimpered, squirming under his touch, body trembling at the stimulation.
“I told you,” he whispered in her ear, “I’ve got you, and I won’t stop until you fall apart in my hands.”
A louder moan escaped her throat at his words, head rolling back and body going slack against him. Doing nothing but taking everything he had to give.
“You can still use your hands, right, pretty?” Johnny asked, jumping on the bed next to them and grabbing her hand, wrapping it around his cock.
“Do they seriously have to guide you?” Jeno mocked when, instead of moving her hands on their dicks, she let them move their hands up and down. “You can do so much better than that,” he encouraged, kissing her neck. “Weren’t you the one always bragging about being able to – fuck – do so many things at once?”
“Yeah, you were so good at studying so many subjects at once, what happened? Can’t use your brain anymore?” Johnny taunted not holding her hand anymore, waiting for her to do it herself and she did, slowly, feeling her arms too tired for that.
“Just like that,” Jaemin moaned, rolling his head back before bringing his eyes back on her. “Look at you, do you even know what you’re doing, baby?”
“How can she when I’m fucking her so well,” Jeno said, quickening the pace on her clit, making her let out broken moans. “Can’t take it anymore, right babe?”
“N-no, I – ugh,” she gave up, not even knowing what to say or what to ask for. It was overwhelming having so many men around to take care of.
“I think she wants more attention on her, isn’t it?” Jaehyun teased, kneeling in front of her to kiss her, her body pressed between his and Jeno’s while Johnny and Jaemin’s hands started roaming on it. She was surrounded, overwhelmed, hands falling slack against her side as she let herself get lulled in bliss and attention. Feeling powerless, but not in a scary way. It was good, weirdly comfortable considering what they were doing.
“Greed has always been one of your flaws,” Johnny grinned, seeing how more relaxed she had gotten as soon as they were all over there, once again not having to do anything but just take.
“Our spoiled girl,” Jaemin teased, grinning before he started sucking her nipple.
But before the moment could last much longer she was bent over again, three cocks in front of her face while her best friends begged her silently to take care of their aching boners.
“You can use your mouth just for a bit,” Jaehyun said, caressing her hair. “Just til we come.”
“Yeah, we promise,” Johnny cooed, “just until we come.”
So she parted her lips and took Jaemin into her mouth, lifting her eyes and relaxing her jaw, telling him to don’t let her do all the job but use her mouth like a fleshlight. Fuck her until they needed to because she had no more strength to suck and do anything else.
And it didn’t take long for him to come in her mouth. “Swallow everything,” he ordered, pulling out to aim at her tongue. “Shit, so good.” And Jaehyun followed soon after, he couldn’t even just stand and watch, he had to jack off as he patiently – not so patiently –waited and after a few minutes inside her warm mouth, he came, spilling down her throat. Johnny barely felt what her mouth felt like, not really caring about it, but just wanting to make a mess on her face. “Close your eyes – fuck – and tongue out,” he ordered and she obeyed, pink muscle sticking out of her swollen lips waiting for his cum that landed everywhere but there basically, painting her face.
“God, finally stopped fucking her mouth,” Jeno groaned, pulling her body up again and kissing her harshly, “want to have her all to myself.”
“That’s not how it works, though,” Jaehyun reminded him.
“You already had your turn, now it’s mine,” he remarked. “Tell them, baby. Tell them you need my cock, come on.”
She felt her body give up and her voice falter but then whispered, “wa-want his cock, need his cock.”
“You heard her,” he groaned, pulling out and flipping her with her back against her mattress, pushing her body back in the middle of the bed. “Come here, legs on my shoulders,” he ordered and when she couldn’t lift them up he grabbed her ankles and placed them on his shoulders. “And take my cock,” he groaned when he pushed back inside her pussy. “That’s it. You’re tired, kitty? This is so much more than you bargained for, isn’t it? But you don’t – fuck – you don’t have to do anything but just stay right there and take it.”
She rolled her head back, head getting dizzier at the way his cock was dragging along her insides and his words, his tone, his hands tormenting every inch of her skin until they moved to grab her wrists and pin them over her head.
“Look at the mess you are,” he panted, “there’s nothing of the well-behaved girl we knew, just a – fuck – pretty brainless cum drunk doll,” he cooed, squeezing her cheeks, forcing her lips to part. “That’s it, keep your mouth open for me,” he ordered before spitting on her tongue. “Swallow it,” he groaned. “That’s it, good girl. Good fucking girl.” A smirk curled his lips when he felt the way her cunt tightened around him. “You love this so much,” he exhaled between surprise and amusement. “Can’t – fuck – can’t believe we thought you were some kind of virgin vanilla silly girl but noo,” he mocked, forcing her mouth open again by grabbing her chin, “you are a filthy mess,” another blob of spit dripped from his mouth to her. “Don’t swallow,” he ordered, making her furrow as she tried to obey. “Right, keep it there,” he cooed. “Don’t pretend you don’t like this, you’re squeezing me.”
“You’re so gross,” Johnny taunted from the side, getting lost in the sight of her open mouth, and the way her chest was panting so hard while Jeno slammed into her mercilessly. “Yeah, you are,” he hummed when she shook her head. “Bet this is not even everything that turns you on, there’s so much more filth in your little brain.”
“Do you want to swallow it? Want to answer him – fuck – and tell him all you like?” Jeno taunted, smirking when she nodded swiftly. “Do it, swallow my spit.”
“I – Jeno, I can’t take it anymore,” she cried as soon as she could talk again, nails dragging into his back. “No more, I can’t.”
“You didn’t answer him,” he scolded. “Why don’t you tell us another one of your fantasies?”
She groaned, feeling her body burn up in shame and the orgasm keeping her right over the edge. “I don’t – fuck – I don’t have any.”
“Oh, so lying to us again,” he huffed, squeezing her wrists tighter and stopping thrusting into her. “Just one or I won’t let you come.”
“No,” she screamed, eyes snapping open.
“Come on, angel,” Jaemin whispered, caressing her burning cheek, “just one little thing you’d like to try.”
Her lips quivered, looking into his eyes. “I don’t – I don’t have them.”
“Then what was all of this, tonight?” Johnny asked, snickering, hand moving on her clit. “Let’s see if this will make something pop up into your empty brain.”
“No – no – I can’t come,” she cried, writhing under both him and Jeno.
“Then tell us something,” Jaehyun said. “We can make all your dreams come true.”
“I – I – Johnny, please,” she wept, breath faltering and walls squeezing around Jeno’s still cock, making her curse inside her brain.
“You don’t want me to come in your mouth, right? Then stop pretending to be so innocent and tell us what you like,” Jeno ordered, dragging out of her and then slamming inside again. “Oh, and you still can’t come until you tell us.”
“I – I like – I like what we did,” she whimpered, biting her lips when Johnny’s fingers started moving faster on her clit.
“No, no, honey, you’re not getting away with it,” Johnny sang, clicking his tongue.
She whined louder, trying to think about anything and then one thing came into her mind. “I – I think – I want to be – mmph – I want to be filmed,” she whimpered, voice dropping low with every word feeling shame take over once again.
They chortled, looking at each other with a smirk.
“You want to be filmed?” Jaemin asked incredulously, watching as she tried to hide her face but with no success since Jeno was still holding her hands together.
“You don’t even want us to take normal pictures of yourself but you want to be filmed during sex?” Jaehyun asked, eyebrow raised in a furrow but lips curled in a small amused smirk.
“I told you she was hiding so many more secrets,” Johnny chuckled, even if he knew that wasn’t the wildest thing she was into. But who knew, maybe he would’ve had another chance to drag them out of her mind.
“And do you like – fuck – taking videos on your own, princess?” Jeno teased, leaning in more, pressing her legs closer to her chest, seeing how she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“N – no,” she replied breathly, silently begging him to let her come when she found the courage to meet his eyes that were already staring at her.
“No? Don’t set your phone up and use your ring light to get a perfect view of your dripping pussy?”
“I’m sure she does,” Johnny replied instead, fingers still moving on her. “That’s why you never let us close to your phone.”
“You don’t?” Jeno teased when she shook her head, denying it. “Maybe you should – fuck – and send them to us so we don’t – fuck – forget how good your pussy feels.”
“Mhh,” she hummed mindlessly. “Can’t – can’t take it more, please, Jeno, please, let me – mmph – come.”
“Come,” he said, he couldn’t hold it any longer either. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that,” he moaned, going crazy at the way she was clenching around him as she came all over his cock, hips rolling against him and mouth falling open, pleasure getting so much in her head that no sounds came out of there.
“Shit, you do feel good,” he exhaled, leaning closer, resting his forehead against hers as his hips kept fucking in and out lazily riding their orgasms, cum filling her up, mixing with Johnny and Jaehyun’s. “You took us so well,” he whispered, kissing her lips more gently than before and freeing her wrists from his hold.
“Pretty impressive for a first time,” Johnny chuckled, pulling away from her to stand up from the bed and stretch.
“Fuck,” Jeno huffed, rolling next to her, after pulling out, making her cringe at the sensation of their cum dripping down her thighs. “That wasn’t on my do-to list when we planned this holiday.”
“This wasn’t on any of our do-to lists,” Jaemin replied, brushing her hair back and leaving a peck on her lips. “You okay?” He asked, his sweet smile on his face again.
She hummed, smiling weakly, and snuggling close to Jeno that opened his arms, hand caressing her scalp. “Yeah, but I need some water and a wet cloth to clean this mess you made... maybe some food if I find the strength to sit up.”
“Who gets what?” Jaehyun asked, looking at the other two that were already up.
Johnny and Jaemin looked at each other, grinning, “Rock, paper, scissors?”
Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think, feedback is always appreciated. For more support consider donating! ♡
step on a crack, dr. lee’s gonna break your back! ♡ ljn x reader (18+)
genre: smut, jeno x reader, f x m, crack
word count: 12.2k+
summary: after years of sitting hunched over at an office desk and squinting your eyes at an overly saturated computer screen, your back finally gives out on you and decides it needs a break.
good thing your friendly neighborhood chiropractor dr. lee is here to save the day! small issue though— he’s really fucking hot and he’s got a way with his hands.
smut warnings: dom!jeno, mild dubcon (please do not read if you are uncomfortable with this), penetrative sex, manhandling, choking, strength kink, oral (f receiving), minimal rimming (f receiving), fingering, squirting, subspace, degradation, mild spanking, body worship
other warnings: will more than likely contain anatomical and medical inaccuracies (please spare me)
masterlist | next
────── 〔✿〕──────
When you were younger, all of the adults told you that your twenties would be some of the best years of your life. Relaying tales of being able to stay out past the curfew your parents had set for you. To indulge in certain luxuries that weren’t accessible to you when you were younger– the finest of alcohol, gambling, and more. Old enough for the freedom that comes with adulthood, yet young enough for the rose colored glasses that’ll register one of your fondest memories.
Not you though.
Scrolling through your social media, you grumble to yourself bitterly as you deliberately swipe past a post of your old colleagues from school having a night out at the bar. Lined up along the stools and leaned up against one another, bright smiles and puckered lips showing off just how much fun they’re having. Envious of their fitted dresses and the heels that you’ve been admiring from far away at your local outlet.
You really couldn’t blame them, though. They’ve invited you out many times. To no avail, they’re always met with rejection. The same exact excuses every single time:
“I’ve got OT today.”
“I have a project due tonight, I need to get this done.”
“I’m too tired. You guys go on without me.”
It’s not that you wanted to be such a stick in the mud. You just happened to work at an office that sucks the soul out of your being. It’s no wonder that the invites have become extremely scarce throughout the years, but that didn’t stop you from being petty and refusing to leave a like on their posts.
“Like hell I will,” You spit back.
“Like hell I will,” You spit back.
“Like hell I will,” You spit back.
Haechan pouts at that, his eyebrows furrowing childishly at your attitude. “What’s got you so moody today? I just wanna spend some time with my favorite coworker.” Planting his hands on top of each of your shoulders, soothing not so gentle circles into the flesh. Digging his forefingers into the crook of your collarbone, inflicting minor pain. He whistles at how stiff the knots are. “Jesus, you’re tight.”
“Could you stop being annoying for like, two minutes please?” You retreat from his touches with a feigned scoff, refusing to let him in on the fact that the makeshift massage hurt like actual hell. Shooting shocks and aches all along from the bottom of your spine to the top, wondering why you’re strained. You’d be a fool to think you could evade Haechan’s observant gaze however. As he jabs a pointer finger right to the center of your back, you shoot up from your hunched over position with an obnoxious squeal. “Ah– fucking hell, Haechan!”
Maneuvering your rolling chair to give him your deadliest glare, you’re confused when you’re met with a concerned face. “Do you have back problems?”
The sudden question startles you. Craning your neck and giving it an experimental crack. You realize you've never put much thought into it. Writing it off as a minor inconvenience at most. Too caught up with the rest of life to be concerned with your physical health, you pushed any aches to the back burner of your mind. “I don’t think so?”
Another jab comes your way, this time directly at your trapezius. Squealing like a mouse in pain once again, you earn a few curious stares from your peers. “Ow!” You smack his wrist away. “What the hell is wrong with you!?"
“It’s because you’re always slumped over at that damn desk!” Haechan argues with a tone that’s similar to a naggy mother’s. “You need to get checked out before it gets any worse.”
“I’m fine,” You swivel your chair away from him and back towards your desk, wanting to end this interaction as soon as possible. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Ever the overly concerned friend, Haechan goes against your wishes. Reaching into his pocket for his wallet before filing through the several business cards he has stowed away. You hear an innocuous ‘aha!’ from behind you, turning back curiously only to be met with a small cut of paper. Wiggling his eyebrows at you mischievously, urging you to take it from him.
Taking the card with caution, you barely skim through the simplistic font before Haechan speaks up again. “This guy is top notch. He’ll put you back into shape like it’s nothing.”
“Dr. Lee Jeno, D.C..” You mumble to yourself. Looking up at Haechan’s cat-like expression with your own unamused stare, fingers already up in air quotes. “Step on a crack, Dr. Lee will put you back on track?” You mock with disdain before grimacing at Haechan. “You can’t be serious right now.”
“I’m definitely being one hundred percent serious,” Haechan replies. “Come on, give it a try! His rates are great before insurance. Who knows how much cheaper it would be with our health plan.”
You’ve watched plenty of chiropractor videos on Youtube before. Fond of the ASMR and the funny reactions. They've kept you entertained more times than you’d like to admit. That didn't stop your irrational fear of having your neck snapped so far back you wake up to find yourself in front of the pearly gates though.
“Don’t you know chiropractors are quack doctors? I mean— look at this Patrick Bateman ass business card. This guy could kill me!” You counter pathetically.
“Hey, don’t speak on my boy like that,” He points an accusing finger at you. “I’ve gone to him plenty of times, and I’m still alive!”
“That’s because you’re a freak of nature,” You sigh at his persistence, too many factors to consider before even thinking about calling this man. “I don’t know…” But when you stretch out and a crack evades both your ears, that same sharp tinge traveling up your back, you’ve got no choice but to give in. Deflating under Haechan’s narrowed eyes, you admit defeat. “Okay, fine.”
“‘Atta girl,” He cheers. “I swear that you won’t regret it. Dr. Lee’s great at what he does.”
“I hope you’re right, because if he snaps my neck and I die— I’m haunting your punk ass.”
“Being haunted by you doesn’t sound that bad honestly. But when have I ever lied to you?” He winks. “Oh, and make sure to tell him that I referred you.”
Deciding that he’s bothered you enough, Haechan bids you goodbye with a wave. When you’re left by yourself you examine the card much more thoroughly. Despite the extremely corny slogan, you admire the minimalistic design. Flipping it to the other side to get more of his information, taking a mental note to search up his reviews later.
——
Dr. Lee seems to check all of the marks. Almost five stars on Google Reviews, most of them being very thorough and positive. A variety of patients from the eldery, to athletes, and even to those who have suffered severe injuries. Many claim that he’s got the ‘magic touch’ and that he treats his patients with the utmost care. That and he has the credentials to boot, graduating at the top of his class.
Swiping through the photos to get a feel for what his office looks like, it seems he occupies a space at a local complex. It’s neat and tidy, a clear degree and certification plated right there for all to see. Seems like he doesn’t have any photos of himself however, his profile picture being the default silhouette.
Admittedly you find yourself pacing back and forth, your phone resting on top of your coffee table. You’d like to blame it on mild phone anxiety, but you’ve got nothing to blame but your skepticism. Mentally battling with yourself to just give Dr. Lee a call and set the damn appointment.
Well, if he’s got Haechan’s approval (you’re not sure how valid that is), you guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. You seldom ever ‘treated yourself,’ so why not throw a couple of bucks on something that’ll actually do you some good?
Bracing yourself, you swipe your phone off of the table dramatically before dialing the number displayed on the card. Slapping the device onto your ear while the rings reverberate around your virtually silent room. Swaying nervously as two rings, three, then four pass without an answer. Wondering if you’re in over your head and should quit while you're still ahead, looking back at the screen and hovering your thumb over the hang up button.
Until somebody eventually picks up. A voice that is gentle yet booming with bass, delicate yet boyish in the same manner. “Hello? You’ve reached Neo Therapy Practitioners, this is Jisung speaking!”
Fumbling your phone like a hot potato, you tuck your phone in the nook of your shoulder. Grabbing a pen and notepad before plopping back down onto your couch. “Yeah, hi, yes!” You splutter. “I was wondering if I could set up an appointment with Dr. Lee?”
“Oh, for adjustment? Sure!” You hear some rustling before the man on the line continues. “Let me just get some of your info before I transfer you over to him. He’ll go into more depth with you than me.”
After providing Jisung with the necessary information, he sends you to Dr. Lee’s extension. An annoying jingle that brings you some peace. Still just a bit wary of setting up your meeting with Dr. Lee, your concerns only growing when the song comes to an abrupt stop.
Now, you may not have a face to pair with whoever is on the other side of the line, but nothing could have prepared you for the intense timbre that's on the other line.
"Hello?” The deep and sultry voice greets you, and when you take a few too seconds too long to return it, he tries again. “This is Dr. Lee. Are you there?”
Straightening your back out like you’re already in the room with him, it takes a lot of energy to double down without embarrassing yourself. “Yes! I’m here.”
A chuckle is offered in response, and you find yourself biting your index finger at how much of a baritone his voice has. Unlike Jisung who had an innocent tinge to his tone, Dr. Lee’s voice made it clear that he was a man of experience. A bravado that couldn't be missed even without physically seeing him.
“Glad to hear it.” You practically hear the smile in his voice. “So, Jisung told me you were looking to be adjusted?” When you hum in response, there’s a pause before he continues. “Sounds good. Typically with your first appointment it’ll consist of a consultation followed by your first adjustment. Does that sound okay?”
“Mhm, that's fine.”
“Perfect.” He beams, going over some more basic information that you jot down on your notepad. “Would you be free to come in tomorrow at let’s say… nine a.m? I actually had a cancellation and it gives us more than enough time before my next patient.”
When you check your wall calendar to confirm you have nothing going on in the morning, you let him know that you’re good to go. Everything goes swimmingly from there.
Dr. Lee instructs you to wear a casual set of clothes, to have your insurance and identification ready, and to just relax.
“I’ll print out a brief page of everything we discussed today, and I’ll hand over the rest of the information to Jisung to input into our system.” Dr. Lee finalizes. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow. I'll see you then?”
“Absolutely,” You reply. “Bright and early. I’ll see you, Dr. Lee.”
With a click, the call ends. Stretching out and hearing the pops of your spine sing like a choir, you're thankful that such a nuisance will be put to a stop soon. You feel much more at ease than before you had called, and you hope that the same holds true for when you see him tomorrow.
——
Turns out that it didn’t hold true. Not one fucking bit. Maybe you can still make a run for it, the main lobby merely a hallway from his office.
It had gone easily enough. Meeting his secretary Jisung at the front desk with an enthusiastic greeting. He was young, probably using this as a part time job, most definitely not taking it seriously since you caught him playing Minecraft on a separate gaming laptop. Slamming the screen shut in a fit of embarrassment, he apologizes hurriedly before you reassure him that he’s okay, laughing at his silliness.
Handing him the required materials, he sends you to the back with a small smile. “First door to the left. He should be ready for you.”
With a nod you follow his instructions. That same confidence that you had carried from the night before crumbling to dust the moment you turned down the handle of the door. Swallowing a thick wad that’s formed at the center of your throat when you take in the sight of the man who’s setting up his equipment.
Haechan be damned, this guy was going to kill you. Not in the way you had first feared though.
Dr. Lee was a sight sent straight from the Greek Gods themselves. Aphrodite taking special care and concocting whatever the fuck he was made out of with a few shots too many of favoritism. Muscular legs that are restrained by black jeans that travel up a lean waist that part into obnoxiously broad shoulders. Proportions unbelievably perfect with an even more beautiful face to boot, that sharp jawline and beauty mark that is saved for those who are the cream of the crop.
If you were attracted to merely a voice via a phone call, the real thing has you absolutely folding.
Unfortunately for you, you were too slow in backing out. Dr. Lee had finished adjusting the height of the bed at the center of the room, presumably sensing your presence before twisting his entire body to find you at the door frame. Upon meeting you for the first time, his face twists into one of the most welcoming expressions ever.
Oh yeah, you were doomed.
Taking large strides towards you, he extends his hand for you to take. “Nice to be able to meet you in person.” He says, eyes forming into sweet crescents upon your accepting shake. His large hand wraps around yours completely. Gaze trailing from where you’re connected to his pronounced forearms. Sleeves rolled up high enough to ogle the veins that lace around.
Said button up did him no favors either. Accentuating each taut muscle, his biceps begging to be freed from its constraints. The button just below his collarbone fighting for dear life lest he makes the wrong move and it pops off. Calling your name, he brings you out of your daze. Shaking your head to bring you back to reality, scolding yourself inwardly for being such a prude. “N-nice to meet you too, Dr. Lee.”
He blows a few black strands away from his forehead, snorting at your apprehensiveness. “Please save the formalities. Just call me Jeno.” He squeezes your hand in reassurance. Separating from you in exchange for extending his arm towards the bed with black leather cushions that are framed by fine bamboo. “Make yourself comfy, yeah?”
Following you closely before dragging a rolling chair to sit across from you in, he sits casually with his legs spread out and his chest leaning against the back support of the chair. Reaching for his clipboard and whistling a tune as he skims through some documents. “Alright, it seems like we have some minor back pain?” He licks at his thumb to make flipping through the pages easier. Pushing the glasses that slip down his nose, attentive to every detail. “Care to tell me about it?”
“WelI, I think I started to feel some aches as early as three years ago when I started at my office, but it was a nuisance at worst,” You explain. Jeno validates you by nodding along, jotting out your words into short notes on his clipboard. Holding his chin between his thumb and forefinger, he urges you to continue. “But it's gotten worse recently. It's more of a shooting pain now.”
“I see.” He affirms, tapping the pen against his bottom lip. “A lot of my patients that are in the office tend to be victims of misalignment, I’m sure your case is no different.”
“I hope so,” You stifle a nervous laugh, halfheartedly relaying your worst fears in a joking manner. “Would hate to find out I have scoliosis this late into life and then have to get surgery for it.”
“Oh, please,” Jeno snorts at you with a feigned offense, tossing the clipboard back to his desk. “I notice your posture is a bit off, but it’s nowhere near so bad that it would require surgery. Plus–,” He cuts himself off when he rises from his office chair, circling behind you to plant his hands on your shoulders. The sudden closeness has your breath hitching, tensing up even further when he parts your hair to get a better look at the back of your neck. Feeling rather than seeing that his chest is probably no more than a few centimeters away from your back. A ghost of a breath against your ear, realizing that he’s much closer than you thought. “That’s what I’m here for. I’ll put you right back into shape.”
“Y-yeah…” You have to remind yourself that he is a certified professional. For that reason, you conclude that he is most definitely just being friendly– at least you try to tell yourself as you feel heat travel up your neck beneath his thumbs that trace over the top of your back. Wanting to slap yourself for getting nervous over him doing his job.
“Let’s take a look, yeah?” Those same thumbs trail down your back, the fitted workout shirt you decided to wear today making it easier for Jeno to get a proper visual of your spine, humming in fascination when he digs into the flesh. A slight jolt causing you to wince under his hold, squeaking feebly at the discomfort. You hope you’re hallucinating when you hear a breathy chuckle leave his throat. “Sorry, did that hurt?” He muses.
“No–! Okay, maybe a little,” You stutter out. “It was just a bit of a shock.”
A noise that’s akin to a lion on the prowl stirs in his chest, making his way back up to the vertebrae that’s on that rests right below your neck. Digging into the flesh once again, this time earning a hiss from you. Biting your lip when the same pain that you had experienced from Haechan resurfaces. “Looks like you do have some misalignment. Does this hurt?” He asks before exerting more force into the spot.
“Fuck–,” You curse, covering your mouth in embarrassment at your lack of professionalism. “Sorry, yeah. That hurt a lot.”
You’re starting to think that this alleged ‘doctor’ is having a little bit too much fun inflicting pain on you. Under the guise that he’s just examining what issues you have, you grow more skeptical with each chuckle. Just when you’re about to retreat from his overbearing touches, he retreats first. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea on what you’ve got going on.”
“You think?” You deadpan, not sure if you’re finding relief in your suspicions dominating your obvious attraction.
“Well, I know, rather.” He shrugs before walking back over to his desk, pulling out a model of a spine. Traveling back to you to point at one of the uppermost vertebrae. “Your thoracic is misaligned towards the top, specifically your T1– which is responsible for lots of important things like your shoulders, arms, the like.”
“So what does all of that mean?”
“Luckily, it’s not bad at all. I think a few sessions would be just fine,” He answers, discarding the spine model. “I’ll give you a sheet with a bunch of stretches that’ll prevent further injury. ‘Till then,'' That same smile encapsulates his features, tilting his head playfully. “Ready for your first adjustment?”
He raises his eyebrows when you give him a gobsmacked face, as if you haven’t already signed a waiver and a bunch of other non-disclosure agreements that specify that you are in fact going to be realigned.
“Oh, we’re doing that now now.”
“Yeah, now now.” He mocks you halfheartedly. Hands now coming to your front and pushing you down gently, swallowing when you get the best look of his face that you’ve gotten in the short time you’ve been in this office. “Lay back for me, okay?” He instructs softly, leaving you to grab his chair once again.
You do as he says, coming down with control only to realize you’ve fallen into his hands rather than onto the cushion. A horrible realization dawns when you recall the Youtube video that you had watched before going to sleep. Oh shit, he was going to crack your neck.
“Relax for me, just let your head fall back. Don’t tense." He praises you when you follow with no objections. Taking your trust with gratitude, he coos at you when your eyelids flutter shut. “That’s it…”
“Are you gonna do the thing?” You open one eye curiously.
“What, the thing where I readjust your neck?” Noticing that your expression is scrunched in fear, he realizes that you’re still a bit on edge. He knows that earning his patients’ full trust is all part of the job. It came easy to some, but harder for others. Good thing he was a patient man. “I understand if you’re scared, but just know that I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Oh, that totally makes me feel better–”
“Yet.”
“Just how did you score such high reviews on the Internet?” You chide him. “My life is literally in your hands right now.”
“I think those reviews were properly earned because of my dazzling charisma. Is that not enough to put you at ease?” He soothes light circles into the back of your neck, earning a purr of satisfaction from you.
“You mean your pretty privilege?” You drawl, immediately regretting not being able to bite back your sharp tongue.
"So you think I'm pretty?" He questions.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you amp up the theatrics by clamping your mouth shut. Motioning a metaphoric zipper from one end to the other and breaking off the tab.
Jeno decides he’s poked enough fun at you despite wanting to provoke more funny reactions. “Alright, now that you’re relaxed– I just want you to focus on your breathing.” He watches you inhale and exhale, chest pumping up and down with every breath. Gnawing at his cheek when he realizes that your shirt is just a bit low cut, your cleavage visible from where he’s sat behind you. “Mhm, good girl.”
The pet name quickly demolishes any relaxation you’ve achieved in the span of two seconds, but before you can properly address it, Jeno twists your neck. Squawking out a ‘oh my god!’ when a pronounced crack invades the room. Eyes practically bulging out of their sockets when Jeno brings you back to place, patting your cheek and letting out an exuberant laugh.
“You did it!” He claps for you.
“Holy fucking shit,” You gasp, unable to care about coming off as presentable to him. Sitting up quickly to wrap your hands around yourself. Unable to describe the sensation that just occurred, something in between satisfaction and utter shock. “I’m alive!”
“You are,” He says, bottom lip tucked between his teeth when you rejoice. His patients showing instant results and giving positive reactions would always be his favorite part of the job. “How do you feel?”
You take a few seconds to think, shaking your body a little and craning your neck side to side. “I feel a little lighter? There was a second where my head was just.. blank. Like there was nothing at all. I think I liked it.”
When his lips quirk up into a smirk, you fold into yourself bashfully. Wondering if you’re coming off too casual with someone you had just met. Only now remembering that you had a very nice set of arms and hands over what you’d consider an intimate part of the body. Aside from Haechan who you couldn’t really chase away (no matter how many times you’ve cursed at him), you’ve never been too fond of physical touch. But when you catch the veins that have become even more prominent after exuding his efforts on you, you can’t help the fantasies that plague your mind.
Jeno was capable of twisting your neck like it was nothing. You wonder how easily he could lift you. Or how long he could last with you in his arms. Or how long he–
“Ready for the other side?” He pipes in.
Maybe you shouldn’t lust over your chiropractor when you’re in the same room as him.
Falling back into him once again, he waits for your body to go slack. Counting off when you’ve reached a state of peace, he reiterates the action but in the opposite direction. That same rush breaking through your toughest nerves. Sighing out in relief, unconsciously arching your back when a tingle travels down your spine. Completely unaware of the way Jeno ogles the outline of your body in such fitted clothing.
“Still doing okay?” He hums, unconsciously trailing a hand through your hair. You ease into his touch with a sappy smile. The blissful pleasure similar to the buzz that comes with a good wine, your body is heavy but your mind is light.
“Doing just fine, Doctor…” You whisper out, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. A stark contrast from the top half to the latter of his palm, such a soft touch despite the surface being riddled with calluses. He felt just like how he looks– a bit rugged but just as gentle. Lee Jeno was an oxymoron personified, and you fear for your well being as the rest of this session goes.
“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name?” He reprimands you, a bit of a growl laced in his words.
“Right,” You breathe out, painfully perceptive to his thumb that grazes against your bottom lip. Catching his hand with your own, lacing your fingers around the crook of his. “It felt amazing, Jeno.”
Jeno has had plenty of patients stretching near and far– many trying to pull moves on him. That isn’t to say he hasn’t found a few attractive people in his time in the office. But he knows better to engage in any sort of scandals that could bring any bad light to his reputation as a well renowned chiropractor. It was also natural for his patients to become a little lost in their heads after living with that pain for so long.
But when you don such a lost and dazed expression, Jeno realizes he might be in just a little bit of trouble.
Clearing his throat, he tries to carry on like normal. That proves to be difficult when he has to put you in quite a few compromising positions. Having to hug your body close when he lifts you up, plenty of cracks to show just how long you’ve deprived yourself of such basic luxuries. Using his strength to realign your spine in increments while you lay on your stomach.
He’s not a stranger to the grunts and groans of relief from the rest of his patients. Yet with each and every adjustment came a new sound. A stuttered gasp, an elongated groan, a screech in almost painful bliss– he wonders if you like being hurt. And when he has you laid on your side with his hand on the small of your back, an almost pornographic moan has him reeling in delight. Almost wanting to keep you for longer than he originally planned– to shut the blinds and lock the door, trying to remember if he still has that ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign that he has tucked away in his desk somewhere.
But again, he knows better. When he finishes off with popping your shoulders into place, he cranks his own neck. Taking extra care of you, treating you with the same sincerity as a flower in a field. He hadn’t realized that your time is minutes from cutting into his next patient. Sighing defeatedly, he has to cut it now.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” He pinches your nose when you refuse to wake up. Much too lost in your own wonderland, the irrational fear of a chiropractor snapping your neck too far dissipates into thin air. Every part of your body feels as light as a feather. Jeno grabs your forearm, the lack of resistance resembling that of a limp noodle, causing him to snort at your stubbornness to get out of his office. He thinks it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to stay a little longer.
“C’mon, wake up!” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to lift you onto your feet. Lifting you with little to no effort, like you weigh nothing. Strong arms surround you firmly, yet you feel a sense of security. “Did I do that well?”
“Oh god,” You loll your head onto your shoulder, giving yourself a good stretch. It amazes you when you reach out high and not a single ache or crack follows. “I haven’t been this relaxed in years.”
Jeno’s sure he could make you feel even better if you’d let him, but it’s better to leave it at what you pay him for. “Glad to hear it,” His hands instinctively seek purchase on your shoulders, comfort being a second nature. Urging you towards the door, he doesn’t miss the pout that you don when you wobble like you’ve just learned to walk. “When will I see you again?”
You still have that half lidded gaze from being snapped like a twig, but it seems that you’ve come back to earth. “When’s your next available appointment?” You lean against the doorframe.
He checks his calendar on his phone for any openings, he relays the options for you. “I’ve got an opening for Saturday next week, same time. Would you be interested?”
“Sign me up.” You answer. “I’ll see you then, Doc–” He’s grimacing at you before you can get the rest of the word in. Still not used to the informality, you huff before turning to take your leave. “I’ll see you next week, Jeno.”
“That’s what I like to hear. It was nice having you today.” He grins, waving you off before closing the door. When he hears Jisung bidding you goodbye and the chime of the bell to confirm that you’ve left the vicinity, he immediately rips his glasses off. Brushing his hair out of his face and rubbing at the prominent bridge of his nose.
He saw the way that you were ogling him when you had first entered. It was nothing new– the ladies young and old alike couldn’t get enough of him, and he definitely wasn’t oblivious to any of their advances. But when he thinks about all the ways he could bend and twist you over the furniture of his office, how he would be the reason you couldn’t walk, he comes to the realization– you were going to be a problem.
——
Saturday takes much too long to roll around, and fortunately for you Jeno contacts you no more than three days later for a cancellation. Your second appointment passed with flying colors. Jeno praises you for following the stretching regimen that he had provided you with, noting that your stiffness has already depleted exponentially. Chiropractic adjustment quickly becomes one of your favorite appointments of the week. Coming in with a smile on your face and stepping out and like a million bucks.
The same can’t be said for Jeno, however. While he’s sure that the attraction is mutual, you seem to be sending him mixed signals. Unsure if those moans are practiced or if he really evoked them from using his pure strength. Hell, he’s found himself hitting the gym even more than he already does, getting giddy when you take note of his progress.
“Have you been working out?”
“A little.” He smirks. “Why? Has it been paying off?”
“A little.” You mimic him with a subtle lick of your lips, giving his bicep an experimental squeeze. Jaw dropping at how hard the surface is. The muscle jumps when he unconsciously flexes beneath your touch.
That’s not all though. He’s noticed that you’ve gotten a bit too comfy in the time that you two have spent together. Your first visit you donned a plain workout tee paired with a baggy pair of sweats. But throughout your visits, t-shirts turn into tank tops, sweats turn into leggings, leggings turn into biker shorts– tops seeming to expose more and more of your stomach until he can see the lower curvature of your breasts.
“Oh, I forgot to mention it,” You say when Jeno pulls at your ankles, a pronounced ‘pop!’ successfully sounding around him. “Haechan was the one who recommended you to me.”
“Lee Haechan?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, the visual of the coconut headed brunette plagues his mind. Grimacing at how overbearing he can be. “Yeah, I know him.”
“I’m really glad he did,” You hum, that same damned expression that has been haunting him every night for the past few weeks. “You make me feel so good, Jeno.”
“You really need to be careful with what you say,” He tuts, appalled that such euphemisms fail to register. His voice lowering down to a low whisper, muttering under his breath. “I’m a guy, you know.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Lay on your tummy for me, now.”
Maybe it was the confidence that came with getting better posture. Maybe it was the fact that you were becoming more flexible after he suggested you should join the free yoga classes that your community has online. Whatever it was, it was becoming even more of a problem for not just him, but those around you too.
——
“You are an addict.” Haechan glares at you. “You’re a crack addict. You’re addicted to crack!”
Embarrassment floods your being when your coworkers take a peek at the commotion. Haechan’s choice of words certainly does not do your image any favors. You cover your face with a manila folder from your desk, not wanting to give any attention to your nuisance of a coworker. He wasn’t having it though, ripping away the barricade and getting close in on your face.
“Wanna know how I know you’re a crack addict?” He corners you.
Diverting your attention from your project, you swivel your chair in his direction to entertain his antics. “Oh, pray tell Haechan. Tell me how you know that I’m addicted to getting adjustments.”
Pulling out his phone, he presents you with a photo of a package that was addressed to his home. Raising an unamused eyebrow, your question remains unanswered. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s a free roomba that I won from a raffle,” Haechan starts. “Dr. Lee’s quarter-yearly raffle to be exact.”
“...Okay?”
“Every appointment that someone I’ve referred to him has, is another entry to the raffle. And in the three weeks–” He holds out three fingers. “That you’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, guess how many entries I’ve scored.”
You’re not exactly fond of the direction this is going in, growing a bit nervous as you’ve lost track of the many times you’ve swiped your card along the pin pad that stays with Jisung at the front desk. “How many…?”
Bringing a hand to his mouth, he obnoxiously coughs to clear his throat. “Sweetheart, you have seen him ten times in three weeks.”
“You’re lying.” You gasp.
Tapping on an email from Jeno himself, he flips the screen towards your face. The evidence in all its glory specifying how many entries he’s been given. “Read it and weep, babe.” He squats down to your height in your chair, whispering into your ear mischievously. “So, tell me the truth– is he actually realigning your spine? Or is he blowing your back out instead?”
“Haechan!” You slap at him harshly, growing flustered at such an accusation. You think you’ve done a good job at being discreet about your desire for Jeno, able to keep yourself at bay every night when your vibrator clears your dirty mind for you. “We have not fucked.” You cross your arms to emphasize your point.
“Yet.” That childish grin grows. “Keep visiting him like that and it’s bound to end up like some cheesy porno.”
“We aren’t gonna fuck,” You shut him down. “That’s so unprofessional.”
“Suit yourself.” Haechan shrugs, turning on his feet to leave you alone once again. Tending to give you a mental whiplash and leaving you to clean up the mess yourself. “I’m just saying– it’s actually been kind of hard to get an appointment with him lately. Much less multiple times in the same week.”
“It’s probably just because I’m a new patient and require more adjustment.”
“Maybe so, but I’d look into that if I were you,” He bids you off with a wink. Greeting another female coworker who passed him by, returning his gesture with a wistful smile. The interaction causes your eye to twitch. You’re sorry for that poor girl– she has no idea how insufferable that man is. Turning back to you with a smug expression to gloat. “Thanks for the free roomba by the way!”
His last words have you pondering, unfortunately. Jeno does spend a great deal of time on you, and his rates are definitely generous enough for multiple visits to be feasible. Maybe there is something there.
But it’s been a really long time since you’ve been physically intimate with anyone. You’re a bit jaded in your judgment, often pinning most people’s flirting and undivided attention as mere kindness. The prospect of being able to have Jeno actually want you as much as you think about him stirs something in your stomach, annoyingly girlish butterflies fluttering around like you’re in high school again.
Who knows? It wouldn’t hurt to try and push the limits a little. What’s the worst that could happen?
——
You might’ve jumped the gun. Wearing the smallest and tightest skirt in your closet with no safety shorts underneath probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Regretting your decision and clamping your legs shut, when Jeno gives you a once over upon your arrival.
His expression was unreadable when you met at his desk. Jaw clenched unbearably tight, a hypocritical action as he’s advised you to refrain doing that on multiple occasions. Claiming that it was a main factor in the migraines you’ve vented to him about.
“So,” He speaks first, his voice gruff when he tries to cut the tension. “It seems like your thoracic alignment has improved greatly in the past few weeks.”
You nod, grateful despite the awkwardness of the situation. “I feel much better thanks to you."
“I’m glad that I was able to help,” He replies, the sentiment still there despite coming off aloof. Was there a vein popping out of his neck? “Anyways, I was thinking after this appointment, we could limit visits to maybe… Once a month?”
Haechan might’ve been onto something when he said that you were addicted. Itching to get cracked almost every other day of the week, thriving off of that high that’s akin to walking on clouds. To go cold turkey and only experience such a luxury once a week almost feels devastating.
You’re hesitant, but you have enough pride to not be so desperate as to object. “We can do that, I guess.” You deflate into the leather chair, feeling oddly petulant for your age.
Hopefully Jeno doesn’t catch your dismissiveness. You assume so at least when he carries on like normal. Gesturing towards the drop bed as per usual, you follow him helplessly like a pied piper. Pulling your skirt down when it hikes up with every other step, you’re inwardly chastising yourself for being so dumb. Of course this would make him feel awkward. You were basically setting yourself up for the easiest wardrobe malfunction ever– the worst part being that it was completely deliberate.
“You know the drill,” He says when you stand idle. Hesitant to do so, knowing that he’s going to get an all access view to the racy panties you wore today. When you take too long you feel anxious at how he hollows his cheeks, his tongue poking out impatiently at your lack of initiative. “What’s wrong?”
People were usually one or the other: book-smart or street-smart. Not Lee Jeno, though. If the doctorate that hung loud and proud behind him wasn’t proof enough, he was also much too intuitive and introspective for his good. The emotional intelligence that most people lack was evident with every conversation the two of you shared during your visits. You knew better than to think he’d be oblivious to such a drastic change in your wardrobe, every outfit prior paling in comparison to the stunt you’ve pulled today.
And if the way he’s vented about the other patients he’s had that have made a pass at him was any indication that he hated unsolicited advances– you’ve basically set yourself for not just rejection, but a strained relationship with someone whose company you’ve grown to enjoy too.
On second thought, limiting visits to once a month would be ideal. Hopefully he’ll forget about it and the two of you can act like nothing happened.
You can tell his patience wears thinner when he crosses his arms across his chest, hip leaned against the top of the bed. Chelsea boot clad foot tapping against the floor in a steady rhythm. Left with no other choice than to suck it up and embarrass yourself, you lift each leg over the bed as slowly as possible, hands clutching at the hem as you lay back with your stomach taut with fear.
At this point, it’s like clockwork. Your head falling back into those large palms without fail. Jeno is always tucking the stray hairs that obstruct your features behind your ear, glad that you always kept your eyes closed whenever he’s this near.
“You’re tense.” Jeno mumbles.
You apologize and try to relax as much as possible. Relinquishing the tension in your neck so you’re weightless against him. Such pathetic attempts are futile however, Jeno tsk’ing at your lack of comprehension to his instructions.
“Your shoulders,” His fingers slide down the expanse of your neck to the span of the offending body part. The smooth glide eliciting a ticklish tingle that now has every inch of you clenching, especially between your thighs. Snatching your shaky hands that are gripping onto your skirt for dear life with each of his own, forcing them to your side. “Let go.”
The strength that he exuded against your resistance was terrifying. Your heart pounding against your chest erratically, fighting your hardest to shoo away the thought of him taking you right where you lay.
Now that there’s nothing that stands in Jeno’s way, he carries on. Fighting a battle of his own, anything he looks at causing a problem downstairs. Look too high and he’s met with your twitching thighs. Look too low and the top of your chest is free residence. And trail even lower, your eyes are shut tight. Bottom lip caught between your teeth nervously, you almost look dumb. No, you do– but he thinks it’s so cute.
So cute and free for the taking. The height of his rolling chair leaves the top of your head right between his legs, close to his growing crotch. He thinks about how he could just unzip right now and sneak his cock right between those gorgeous lips. They’re a different shade than usual, and he loves how it looks on you. Was that another part of this little ploy of yours?
Twisting your neck from side to side, the cacophonous snaps are accompanied by that sweet gasp. Inhaling a sharp bout of air when his grip on your neck is harsher than usual, fingertips digging into you even deeper than before. “Does it hurt…?” He croons, unable to control the grin that forms when he grazes down your forearms.
“A… a little,” You’re squeamish at the flicks of fire that his touch leaves behind, prickles of pleasure going off like bombs in a land mine.
“Oh, poor baby,” He fakes sympathy, now roaming freely around your entire being, save for the spots you need him the most. “It’s because you don’t listen to me. I told you to let go.”
“I do listen to you.” You weakly protest, upset with yourself for displeasing him. A need to satisfy when you look up at him fondly, proving yourself that you can follow what he says.
“I don’t think you do,” He retorts coldly, returning a bleak expression that’s unlike the warm Jeno you’ve grown familiar with in the past few weeks. “I can tell you’ve been neglecting yourself. Have you still been stretching? You’re so… stiff. Do I have to loosen you up? Maybe we do need to keep seeing each other.”
Such crude words stir unspeakable feelings in your lower half, now squirming against him when you try to flee from his hold. “Jeno, I–”
He doesn’t allow you to finish whatever senseless gibberish you had to say. Squishing your cheeks shut, his chest now flush against your back. Prominent nose now at the nape of your neck. Inhaling profusely, the mixture of your perfume and shampoo has him grunting in a sensory overload.
“Just be quiet,” He spits.
A single finger trails from where his lips are located at your nape, all the way down your spine. Admiring his work like an artist who has just created their magnum opus based off of their muse. Every vertebrae perfectly aligned, your back smooth beneath his touch. It was a lie– you took great care of yourself, everything from your posture to your confidence improving vastly. But while he had good intentions, you walking in with that skimpy outfit utterly destroyed his original plan of keeping your relationship strictly professional.
While he was able to build you to his flawless image, it gives him a surge of power to know that he can just as easily break you.
He wants to.
“Lay on your stomach.” He demands. A complete contrast to the kind guidance he typically provides, not helping his own case when he slides his arms under your abdomen. Flipping you over when you take too long to do as he says. Gasping at how quickly he tosses you, remorseless when you yelp out in surprise.
His grip immediately seeks purchase on your back, maniacal when he continues the appointment like usual. The cold air conditioning hitting the crease of your bottom. Your eyes widen when you realize that your skirt has rode high enough for your ass to be exposed to Jeno’s wandering gaze. Wrists are immediately slapped away with a stinging pain when you try to protect your modesty. “No!” You scream.
“What did I say?” He pinches the inside of your thigh, taunting you for more of that sweet cry when he hurts you more. “See? You really don’t listen. I’ve warned you so many times, and look where that’s gotten you. Can’t you just be a good girl for me?”
“I already am!” You talk back, squealing when he smacks your exposed ass. “Fuck– Jeno!”
“I don’t think you are,” He scoffs, kneading the flesh that’s already forming a bruise from the slap. “Good girls don’t walk around with their asses out like little sluts.”
This mental flashbang of such a cruel Jeno paired with unrelenting caresses has a bout of wetness seeping from your core. Back arching pathetically when the aftershock travels to your clit. Biting your cheek when he laughs at your compromised position. Having to pull himself away from his desires for just a moment, remembering that you were here to be adjusted.
“See how bad you are for me? You made me forget what I was supposed to be doing.” His cadence now completely riddled with saccharine. “Let me take care of you, baby.”
Jeno has taken the words out your mouth. Physically incapable of forming a complete sentence, still in too much shock. Hands coming up to the top of your back, carrying on his adjustments much more harshly. One crack after another, that same air that fills your brain that you thrive off of. Moaning out in pleasure at the relief he provides. Both an angel and a devil with his hands.
“See?” He bends over, pulling your blouse down from your back to expose your shoulder blade. Laving his tongue against you before nipping at the crook of your jaw. Kissing whatever skin that your blouse will reveal. “If this is how obscenely you act when I’m just doing my job, I wonder how much louder you get when I do what I want.”
“What do you want?” You gasp out when he hikes your shirt up, now traveling down only to come back up, licking a fat stripe from the bottom all the way back up. Your hands grip into the sides of the drop bed, nails scratching crescents into the faux black leather.
“Don’t be dense,” He grunts out while ripping your blouse over your head. Disposing of the material carelessly, meeting the fine slope of your back with an insatiable lust. The clasp of your lacy bra resembles a ribbon on top of a Christmas present. He unclasps it, eager to unwrap his gift. So close to achieving perfection, he loses himself to his desires. Mounting himself above you, a confined cock that feels massive now grinding between your thighs. He enjoys the struggle when you pathetically try to kick and squirm. “You know what I want.”
You do, and you know that you want it just as badly. Both day and night dreams of Jeno ravaging you with his brute strength. Marking you as his and bending you to close to impossible positions. Drooling at the thought of being fucked on every corner of his office loud enough to break the interior of the soundproof walls.
When you fall slack beneath him, he proceeds to strip you of your skirt. Still appalled by how lecherous you could be. The fall from grace as the friendly office lady to the woman he’s wanted to fuck senseless becoming a bane to his existence.
“Please, Jeno…” You beg of him. Wanting him to do something, anything to satiate this new ache. Compared to the back pains you’ve experienced in the past, Jeno’s inflicted a new problem for you.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He coos.
“H-hurts,” You sniffle, unable to cope with not being full of him. “I need you to fix it.”
“Hm, what hurts?”
A full set of teeth form into the most devilish grin when you reach behind you, taking his hand into yours and guiding it to your sopping pussy, urging him to feel around the seat of the destroyed fabric. Panties now ruined to the point it sticks into your folds, thighs twitching wantonly. It was degrading. To be close to completely naked under a fully clothed man, yet you couldn’t help but love it. “Here… hurts here.”
“And what do you want me to do about it?”
“I need you, Jeno,” You practically sob. “Need you to fix it.”
As practitioner and patient, he had sworn long ago to provide his clientele with the best service. That applies now more than ever. Your wish was his command, and he plans on delivering on that tenfold.
Climbing down your body, he stops past your ankles. Gripping at your panties and sliding them down your legs, growling at your glistening lips that shine bright under the white ceiling lights. Finding your ass once again and parting them for good measure, groaning when your cheeks jiggle back into position upon letting them go. “Gorgeous, beautiful body,” He praises you, fingers immediately darting towards your folds to give them an experimental flick, reeling at how easily you flinch under him. “And so fucking sensitive, too.”
Pushing up at your thighs, he has you in a downward dog, knees planted firmly on the drop bed and your back bent for him. Jeno’s hand sneaks around your belly and down your lower region, index and middle slotting around your clit.
“Ahh–,” You gasp out loud, clasping a hand over your mouth at the attention to your most sensitive nerve. Wetting the tips of his fingers between your folds, traveling back instantly to caress circles into the nub. Lips coming down to the base of your back once again, already knowing many of your erogenous zones through the subtle fondling from your past visits. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?” He hums, pecking smooches down your ass. A one track mind to inhale your heady scent for himself.
“So good, fuck–!” Toppling over when he brings that same fat tongue to the center of your core, coated in spit when he shakes his head from side to side. Eating you out from the back with a vice, his two fingers still unrelenting against your clit. Pushing at your button and the tip of his appendage fighting to break past the barrier, succeeding with only little resistance. Eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel him against your walls, shameless slurping as your wetness trickles down his throat. “Oh my fucking god.”
“Tastes so good, baby.” He rasps, breaking away for a moment of breath. Replacing his tongue with the fingers that were attacking your clit. Wrapping his other arm around your thigh to keep you from falling off, entertained at how you pathetically try to support yourself by planting your head into your forearms. Tummy sucking in and gasping for breath when he finds your g-spot with embarrassing ease. Almost as if your body was made for him to navigate.
“So spoiled,” He shakes his head at your incessant moaning, not surprised that he was right on the money to think you’d be such a whiny bitch. “Pretty girl acts like a slut to get fucked and she gets what she wants. You’re lucky this cunt makes up for it.”
When you turn to look behind you, you’re met with a gaze devoid of anything but a need to fuck and claim, locked onto your pussy like it was the only thing he knew in this world. His lips slick with your juices, hair a brazen mess that poked in several directions– the epitome of sex. Your desires personified into a single being.
Catching the way you ogle him, he snickers at your dumbfounded face. Amping up the intensity of his finger fucking, his palm slapping against your core with every meeting of the hilt to your entrance. Fucked out gazes lock onto one another, and he needs to make it known that you don’t hold a candle to him. Opening his mouth to make a show of lolling his tongue out, coming back to get a taste of your puckered rim.
“Wait, Jeno, not there!” You claw at his hair, grappling harshly against his scalp. The burn causes him to wince, features scrunching yet remaining adamant on tasting every part of your body. Pinning you down at your back, you’re now unable to fight him when your chest falls completely flat. Your other arm rendered useless as it’s your anchor to keep you from completely toppling over. Despite your protests, the circles that he draws with his pink muscle has you singing contradictory praises.
That knot at the core of your abdomen constricts, losing autonomy over your body and granting Jeno complete control. Features twisting to euphoria when he reaches lengths further with his fingers than past partners have with their own cocks. And when he’s able to break past the barrier of your tightest barrier of your upper hole and he flicks at the spongy wall inside, your vision goes white.
A broken cry crashes along the four walls, droplets of sticky wetness decorating Jeno from the bridge of his nose to the top of his collarbones. Immediately breaking away from you to focus on fingering you until you’ve given him all of your cum. Jaw dropped wide open as he tries to catch every bout of squirt. Nails scratching at his scalp and lacing into the strands for stability, the pain only aiding in the ache of his restrained cock. The stuffing of the leather now seeping out from how deeply you’ve scratched against it, its wood frame misaligned with the weight that Jeno had planted on top of you.
Your body is limp when your orgasm subsides, aftershocks still causing you to jolt when Jeno gives your pussy a light slap.
“Best orgasm of your life, huh?” He gloats, cleaning off the remaining stickiness on his face with the back of his hand. Bringing his wrist that’s adorned by a Rolex up to his knuckles. Your essence now etched into every one of his senses. You lay almost lifeless and without a response. A pathetic sight that causes Jeno to scowl, offended that you could even think that he was done with you.
Still trying to catch your breath, you hear a ghost of a whisper, metal clanking and clothes rustling. When you muster up the energy, you catch Jeno in your peripheral. Unbuttoning his black dress shirt and unbuckling his belt, the brand name material slipping from his clutches. The metal of the buckle clanking against the floor, his exposed collarbones shining with perspiration and your cum.
He circles around the bed to meet you, looking down at you with a snide smile when you realize that he’s now shirtless. It was true, he really did have visuals sculpted by the Gods. Broad shoulders on top of a pronounced chest, slimming down to a lean waist.
Slowly unzipping his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. Finally revealing his cock in all of its glory, monstrous in size. Long and girthy, the biggest you’ve ever encountered. Slapping against his stomach and his precum covered tip meeting his bellybutton. It’s almost terrifying, there’s no way you could ever take him.
As if he’s read your mind, he cups your face sweetly like he’s done plenty of times before– yet it holds more of a threatening aura than any positive reinforcements. “Don’t be scared. I’ll make sure it fits.” He murmurs, loving how you instinctually take his thumb into your mouth.
When he leaves your wet cavern, he grabs at the base of his cock and places it just below your lips. “Spit.” He instructs, leaving no room for objection.
Dropping a thick glob of saliva, he immediately bobs it up and down to coat it along his length. A significant amount of precum aiding him even further in lubrication. The mix of fluids riddling the room with the pungent smell of sex. You’re both inebriated off of the prospect of what’s about to occur next.
Biceps are angled deliciously when he bends down to wrap his arms around your waist, flipping you back onto your back. A shadow of your sweet doctor fading in when he climbs on top of you once again, despite how beautifully he glows. You two nod at each other when he lines himself up with your core, thankful for the pool that has formed between your thighs.
“Breathe for me, alright?” He says. It takes a great deal to control himself, wanting nothing more than to plunge into you in one go. Regardless, he controls his urges. His tip enters you slowly, the both of you gasping in unison at the newfound pleasure. Weeks of mixed signals now coming to fruition with every inch he goes deeper. “God, you’re fucking tight.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Jeno was so thick that it felt like he was splitting you in half, parting your walls and filling up every crevice inside. Each inch gives you a sense of fulfillment when you earn his praises. Showering you with compliments, affirming how good you’re making him feel and how wet you are.
“That’s my good little slut,” Jeno groans into your hair. Delivering a quick kiss to your ear before licking up the shell, hoping it distracts you from the strain. He stills after bottoming out, merely rutting around in place of fucking you mercilessly. Taking a moment to relish in the way your pussy encapsulates his cock, coating him with your sticky arousal to the point it leaks out.
Pain quickly fades into blissful pleasure. Cupping his jaw to urge him to look at you, you feel your chest burn at his handsome face. His ruined hair still looks perfect when it falls over his forehead messily, lips red and swollen from all he’s done to you. “I’m okay now, you can move.” You confirm, and the shift in his demeanor lets you know that you don’t have to tell him twice.
He starts with a few experimental thrusts, watching you closely and seeing what spots make you tick. Noting that you like when he puts power into his thrusts. Gripping the frame of the cushion your head rests on, he lifts himself to pull out until it’s only the tip that connects you. Granting you maybe a second of peace before immediately plunging back down, causing you to screech out in euphoria.
From there, everything is fair game. Bodies slapping against one another when he grips your ankles and spreads them apart. Fucking you with purpose, everything from his hairline to his abs are covered in sweat. The shine makes his skin glow gold, every taut muscle accentuated by the perspiration.
While your pussy is a delight and has him throwing his head back, he still has so many fantasies that he wants to fulfill. Releasing your ankles, your legs plop down weakly. Pulling out of you and leaving you empty, causing you to shriek at the loss. Scrambling to sit up when he stands up, trying to grab at his cock to lead him back inside. “No, no, no–!”
Nothing could have prepared you for when he lifts you up from the bed with nothing more than a grunt, delivering another stinging slap when you scream at him. Slapping at his shoulders to let you down even if your body betrays you by wrapping your legs around his waist. Traveling only a few paces, he slams you against the nearest wall. Framed photos and contents in bookshelves shaking, gasping out when he realigns his cock with your entrance.
When he dons a blank expression, as if wondering what to do next, you furrow your eyebrows together. Pussy still empty and in need of being filled, you whine. “Jeno, hurry, please.”
He doesn’t thrust up into you however, instead he plants you down onto his cock. Using his pure arm strength to lift you up and down like a fuckdoll. His forearms blazing with bulging veins. Your back is burning as it scrapes against the wall deliciously. Amazed at such fortitude, you continue to cry out when he hits that spot inside you with precision each time. A babbling mess when your chests collide and he licks up the salty tears that you’ve shed, laughing into your ear mischievously.
“I hope you know that nobody will ever be able to fuck you like this,” He laughs out, grip on your ass spreading the cheeks apart to accentuate his point. “No matter who you find in the future– they’ll never be as good as me. You know that right, baby?”
You bob your head to agree with whatever you caught from his sentence, stroking his ego just the way he likes. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t formulate your own thoughts at this point. Much like the slight high you experience whenever Jeno had adjusted you before, your head light and empty– you now feel it at its utmost potential. Unable to control your body when a trail of spit leaks out of the corner of your chin.
Jeno stares at you fondly, arms growing just a tad tired. He transfers the effort into his legs, planting his weight into his calves to stabilize you. Allowing for one of your legs to fall to go even deeper, your other thigh still folded in. Holding your head with his hand, he knows you’ve floated into another state of being, your pussy unconsciously clasping around him every time he angles just right.
“What a dumb, pretty baby,” He practically sings, utterly in awe at how fucked out he’s gotten you. Licking off the drool from your lip with the intent to clean you up nicely. Dropping your leg that’s hiked up, he lifts you once again. Now leading you to his desk, letting you down only to bend you over. “Let’s finish together, okay?”
Moaning out something that sounded like a yes, he takes what he can get when he reenters you for the third time. Eyes fluttering shut when you surround him once again. “Think this pussy might be the death of me.” He grunts.
“Your cock is soo good,” You mewl, your breasts cool against the mahogany of his desk. Seeking sanctuary by grabbing onto whatever trinkets or paperweights that litter the surface. The back of your thighs aching from trying to keep up with Jeno’s relentless pace. “So, so, big.”
“Yeah?” He lifts a sweat dripped brow, pistoning his hips with generosity. Taking care of his patient will always be his top priority. Fingers meeting your clit one last time, swiping at it with ease from how wet it is. “Cum for me now, baby. You earned it. Did so well for me.”
Clenching his thighs, he fucks into you one last time. Pushing into your body with his own so forcefully that you ride up the desk. One last cry to the empty vicinity, nothing registers except for Jeno. His scent, how he feels, those hands that have gotten you into so much trouble– he really fucked you so good. So good that all you know at the moment is his name. Your orgasm washing over you, pussy clenching impossibly tightly he roars. More squirt shooting out of you, a sticky mess falling onto the carpet floor of his office.
In a few more self indulgent thrusts of his own, Jeno pulls out completely. Pumping himself no more than two times before his cum flies out. Bobbing up and down to get out every last drop of creamy white, painting your beautiful back with his liquid. Harsh gasps are paired with your patternless pants, the both of you were spent.
Jeno decides to utilize the last of his energy for good. Lifting you up once again and walking towards the comfortable loveseat that rests in the corner of the room. The sticky fluids aren't much of a problem while you catch your breaths. He wraps his arms around to hold you in his lap, your head resting against his chest. Rubbing circles into your neck and whispering sweet praises, waiting patiently for you to come back to earth.
“You okay?” He asks when your eyelids flutter up slowly, that shine back in your face to let him know that you’ve recovered. “Lost you there for a little bit.” He teases, pinching at your cheek playfully.
“Oh, shut up.” You pitifully try to push him away, much to no avail. Flashing you a charming grin that rivals the sun itself. “I knew that chiropractors were quacks.”
“Not my fault you’re hot as fuck.”
“I said ‘shut uup’,” You whine, dropping your head into his shoulder to give yourself more time to recuperate. “Let me rest. I think you’ve somehow caused more damage to my back than heal it.”
It’s obvious that you’re overexaggerating, but Jeno can’t help but accept the backhanded compliment with pride. Admiring the relaxed smile you try to hide from him, he pats your hair that’s sticking up back down.
“Guess we’ll just have to keep seeing each other then.” He replies, falling into a slumber himself.
——
“So.”
“So?”
“We’re okay right?” You tilt your head curiously, now fully rested and cleaned up. Jeno having to rush the both of you to the staff only bathroom when Jisung left for break, a few scanty touches here and there.
Hands lodged into his pockets, Jeno is even more handsome with the afterglow of sex. You hope you’re at least a fraction as presentable as he is. “If you’re okay, I’d say we’re just peachy. However–”
“Oh god.” You dread the worst case scenario of being blacklisted and having to find another chiropractor.
“Will you let me finish?” He glowers at you, making you shut up immediately. Now that you know that Lee Jeno is not to be messed with. “Anyways,” He continues. “I think you deserve a treat for being so good.”
Taking his right hand out of his pocket, he presents you with a business card. A complete contrast to the simplicity of Jeno’s, a completely black square with red accents. Before you get a chance to read what’s written, he speaks again. “That’s my colleague here at the complex. He’s actually right across the hall.”
Now given the opportunity, you find that Jeno has referred you to a nail bar. “And what is this treat you’re offering?”
“Well, if you’re ever interested in getting a manicure or pedicure, you’ll want to go to him. He’s the best in town. Nobody does nail art like him,” He chuckles. “Let me know if you’re interested. I’ll ask him to give you a discount.”
If there’s anything you’ve learned from these past few weeks, it’s that investing in yourself a little goes a long way. Spending too much time worried about necessities that require minimal maintenance, you’ve forgotten to indulge yourself along the way. Looking down at your nail beds whose cuticles you’ve failed to tend to, you take Jeno’s offer into consideration.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” You give him your warmest smile. “Can I ask you something though?”
“Go for it.”
“Haechan told me it’s been hard to schedule with you recently, but I’ve been seeing you pretty often.” You try to phrase it as humbly as possible, not wanting to come off as arrogant. “Is there a reason for that?”
“I mean, you did need more adjustment than my other patients who have been long time regulars. But I guess I got a little ahead of myself.” He boxes his nose, and for the first time ever you think you’ve caught Dr. Lee Jeno’s cool exterior slipping. “You have a really nice ass.”
“Thanks.” You deadpan. “You have nice arms– and legs, and a really nice… nevermind.”
Shaking his head at you, he walks you out when you take your leave. Bidding you adieu with a friendly pat, the both of you thankful that the heated sex hasn’t obstructed your relationship as patient and doctor at all.
You reach high into the sky, feeling like you’re at your absolute best. Wondering what else you can do to improve your state of being. Thinking back to the business card that you had pocketed, you locate the other door adjacent to Jeno’s. Much to his description, there is a sign that indicates that there is very much a beauty salon on the other side of that door.
Shrugging to yourself, you decide you’ll sleep on his offer. Making your way to the front desk to find Jisung eating away at his meal. You realize you’ve already grown fond of how this business is run.
“Come back and see us!” Jisung waves at you, to which you return with equal enthusiasm. “Hope to see you again soon!”
You realize it’s inevitable when you exit the front lobby and step out into the parking lot. The large Neo Therapy Practitioners sign standing proud at the awning above you, the new business card taking up space in your purse–
You’ll be seeing them alright.
end (☺) -> next
────── 〔✿〕──────
author’s note: if you made it all the way here, thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it.
i really want to thank panty nonnie who i’ve been in contact with through dms and have grown very close with in the past month. they’ve been an absolute angel and i couldn’t have gotten over my writer’s block without them. so, if you’re reading this (again hehe) just know that you’re the best and am more than grateful for all you’ve done for me. <3
