SUMMARY: Your nephew won’t stop complaining about his strict superior at work. What you weren’t expecting was that said superior happens to be your hottest hookup, the one you had a one-night stand with. Did you like it? Obviously, yes. But morally? You should’ve buried yourself in dearth at this point.
PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x f!reader
GENRE: drama, comedy, fluff, smut, oneshot
WARNINGS: suggestive content (MDNI), dirty talk, strong language, mildly toxic family (mentioned), one-night stand, attempted quickie, sexual tension, heated kissing, homoerotic cuz i can, dick jokes (im sorry), bantering, arguing (in a fun way), little angst hinted about parents' separation.
WC: 12.5k
ADD TAGS❦︎: cafe owner! reader, pr specialist! wonwoo, kim sunoo as your nephew, wonwoo is a jerk but a hot one, barista! boochan, reader is kind of a fujoshi (this was supposed to be a joke), domestic fluff if you squint, invisible string theory hinted, co-enemies to lovers, they're both idiots, teacher! jeonghan mentioned, i do think i am hilarious, roommate! mingyu, hot n cold dynamic, strangers to lovers, secret relationships, this was probably a bad idea.
a/n: hi. we are sooo back in this diamond crack.
The fact that you’re legally an adult is hysterical. If people asked whether you’re an adult, you’d say “yeah”, but not with confidence or anything.
People always say, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” You’ve heard that a ton, but your eyes are fixed on that one specific, emotionally distant salmon commitment issues, mommy issues, and absolutely no idea how to function like a normal human being.
There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but you know what else is there? Trash. There is a lot of trash in the sea. You even switched out your plastic straws for one-hundred per cent plant-based, edible rice straws made from rice, tapioca, and cornstarch. They’re designed to be sustainable, turtle-friendly, and technically safe to eat. It was often described as having a neutral, pasta-like texture. They were a popular eco-friendly alternative to plastic, even though some people complained that they got soggy in drinks.
You like to think that you have saved the turtles. Maybe even the ocean.
Unfortunately, that still doesn’t stop people especially at family gatherings from bringing up marriage every chance they get. You were perfectly fine living like this. You run your own cafe. You’ve got a side hustle as a web novel writer and webcomic creator though of course they don’t know that.
Your single life has been nothing but peaceful. In this century, it’s a choice. But that doesn’t matter when your relatives keep asking when it’ll be your turn, especially at someone else’s wedding. God forbid a woman enjoys her life without a partner.
They love to hint, no—insist that you’ll end up lonely, growing old like some miserable hag.
Puh-lease. You’ll never be intimidated by people with no class. What are they going to do? Gossip about you with their equally insecure, trashy little circle?
You don’t care. You’d rather die than get married. At least you won’t end up as some miserable wife stuck with a douchebag husband and his broken ass.
The only thing that kept you alive and sane was none other than your beloved nephew, your very first one. Oh, the things you would do for him. You still remember the first time you held him, just a newborn, tiny in your arms. That was the moment you became an aunt at the age of seventeen.
Now, he’s all grown up, living like a proper young adult. Still, you can’t help but see him as a kid. Not that you mind, considering you once gaslit eight-year-old Sunoo into believing he was six just so he could get freebies at a diner when you first babysat him.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” you said, wiping a glass as you watched your twenty three-years-old nephew clutch his head, face buried against the counter.
“Give my regards to the devil,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in exhaustion.
“I will.”
Sunoo groaned again, downing another shot of espresso you had made earlier. That was probably his third cup. You gently took it away from him, earning a frown.
“Oh, come on. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter,” you said, sliding a glass of water toward him instead. “I raised a burnt-out perfectionist who occasionally gets bludgeoned into settling for mediocrity.”
Your nephew stared at you incredulously. Sometimes he wondered if he was even related to you. But in the end, he’d take you over his nosy, borderline-stranger aunties who wanted a full autobiography of his achievements. He still didn’t understand why his mom, your sister had trusted you to raise him all these years, well into adulthood.
“Okay, I’ve experienced academic validation, and I’ve experienced academic downfall, and I highly recommend being born into generational wealth—”
“It’s not about that,” he cut you off. “It’s my superior. He’s… I don’t know. Everything about him is just so cranky.”
“What?” You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed as you continued stacking cups. “Is he a bully or something?”
“Not exactly. He’s just… kind of mean. Well—he’s just that good at his job.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“That is the problem,” he confirmed.
He continued, “He’s so good at what he does that it stresses everyone out on the planning team. If something goes wrong, he gets intensely serious about it—like, terrifyingly committed.”
There was a brief silence as you listened to your nephew ramble. This was probably just a moment of weakness. He likely just needed to vent.
“No one likes him,” he scoffed, taking a sip of water. “In fact, I don’t think he likes people at all. He probably hates himself too.”
He sighed again. “I made it through the day without throwing a chair at anyone, but this coffee tastes more bitter than usual.” He clicked his tongue. “Probably because I carried his bitterness all the way here.”
After a moment, you looked up at him.
“Feeling better now?
“Yeah,” he finally exhaled.
You’d think his toxic trait was believing another cup of coffee could solve literally anything. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was just being dramatic, but considering this was his second week complaining about his “toxic” workdays, you hoped it was only one insufferable person making him miserable, and not HR tearing him apart. Senior colleagues could be worse. You just hoped he wasn’t being bullied.
You, on the other hand, could drink three cups of coffee and go straight to sleep, one of many things fundamentally wrong with you as a person. In your defense, you buried those bad habits back in university. You’re a changed woman now. At your age, you just wish people would stop asking about your likes and dislikes. It gets old—those endless, generic questions on dates.
You like money and food. You dislike not having money and being hungry.
Please. Don’t add more stress to your life.
Adulting is hard, but it’s okay. At least you don’t need to prove and explain why a triangle is a triangle anymore.
Nobody is busier than someone who isn’t interested in you. And when you say, “I’ll figure it out,” it usually just means you’ll adapt to whatever new level of hell is coming next. You either juggle five tasks at once or stare at a wall, wondering what scene to write for your next update, there is no in-between.
You know you’re hot, but you’re also aware you’re not a full-time hot person. You’re hot when you want to be, depending on the mood. You choose your own hours, make your own schedule. Honestly, it’s freelance hotness.
Just because you live like this doesn’t mean your life is boring. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of hookups—but they’re rare.
Today, however, is different. You went to your usual bar—Velvet Ruby. Mostly because the owner, Jihoon (as you’ve come to learn), is annoyingly attractive. You’re not even utterly shameless at that, the first time you met him (that time you haven’t yet to know he was the owner), throwing flirts here and there, you were tipsy, okay? Still, he finds it amusing despite himself. You usually prefer someone taller than you, but somehow, he still caught your attention.
Tonight, though, you were determined. You wanted a distraction. A release.
The only problem? You’d been sitting there for almost an hour. You were practically waiting for a main character’s entrance, but it seemed the owner had better things to do. Swirling your glass, you watched the wine move lazily inside it, your fingers brushing through your hair as you leaned your cheek against your palm, and then you noticed him.
Sitting right beside you.
You didn’t even try to hide the way your gaze lingered on his side profile. The sharp nose, the way his lips brushed against the rim of his glass as he took a sip of whiskey. His sweater was pushed just enough to reveal his forearms, the fabric stretching slightly. You could tell he was well-built underneath. His veiny hands, steady as he held the glass with ease, a watch sitting perfectly on his wrist.
God.
You really wanted him so bad.
As a matter of fact, you even dressed up for tonight—something chic, something that worked both at your cafe and for this. Chan, one of your employees, kept staring earlier. You didn’t say anything out loud, but you did threaten to cut his pay if he kept slacking off.
You feel sexy today, feel good and confident. There was no way you were wasting this night.
As if sensing your stare, the man suddenly turned toward you. His eyes narrowed slightly, not threatening, just… observant. His gaze lingered, taking you in without shame.
Jackpot.
Honestly, you don’t care. You were convinced you could hold your liquor pretty well, but you only lived once. You didn’t look away. Instead, you offered a soft smile, teasing as you leaned your chin on your palm, crossing your legs.
“Do you know what bees make?” you asked casually.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly making sure you were talking to him. There was a pause before he answered, humoring you.
“Honey?”
You smiled wider. “Yes, dear?”
A soft chuckle left your lips, you were definitely tipsy now. He looked amused, the corner of his mouth lifting as he took another sip, his gaze still on you appreciatively, unhidden.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.
Your lips curved in quiet victory.
Got him.
...
It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall into easy conversation. The small talk here and there, laughter slipping in between. One thing led to another. You have learned that his name is Wonwoo. He mentioned something about work, some company but you barely processed it, too distracted by his deep voice and the way his cologne lingered in the air.
By the time you reached the hotel, neither of you had the patience to pretend otherwise. The door barely closed before he pulled you close again, lips finding yours in a kiss that was far from hesitant. His coat was gone in seconds, yours not long after as you were guided back with your breath catching and thoughts slipping.
His touch was warm, firm, leaving a trail that made it harder to think straight. Your head tilted instinctively, giving him more space, more access, your fingers gripping onto him as the moment blurred into something hazy and overwhelming.
A quiet sound escaped you, your mind already spinning, senses dulled except for him.
You stumbled toward the bed, everything felt so messy and impatient. Both of your clothes were scattered somewhere on the floor. It was clear that you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and you never felt so turned on right now. Maybe it’s been a while since you have felt this good.
Straddling him, you leaned down, kissing him again with intense neediness. Wonwoo grunts into the kiss, chuckling softly against your lips at how impatient you are, clumsily pressing on him. He kisses you back fiercely, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, gripping your hips tightly. He grinds up against your core, large hands sliding up your bare back, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pulls you flush against his muscular chest. He didn’t forget to lavish your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, teeth grazing your pulse point as he bucks his hips up sharply.
You let out a soft sigh and moan at how intense it feels, catching your breath as your hands come up to grip his soft locks. Your hips instinctively grind on him, rolling your hips down as you feel the thick length of his cock rubbing against your slick folds through the thin fabric of your panties.
A low groan tore from his throat at the feeling, his grip on your hips tightening. He slides his hands down to grip your ass, squeezing the plush globes roughly as he grinds up against you—meeting your slow, sensual movements. “You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” He murmurs, leaning up to capture your lips in a deep sensual kiss. Drowning in his own needs, he tore your panties away and didn’t hesitate to put the tip of his cock inside your bare cunt.
The sensation itself had left your mouth hanging open, trying to catch yourself at how amazing it feels like. Your grip on him tightened as you slowly sinked yourself down on his dick, mewling at the way he’s stretching you out. “F-fuck—Wonwoo…” you whimper out softly as you started to move your hips.
Wonwoo let out a low guttural moan as your tight walls clenched down around him like vice, gripping his throbbing shaft so deliciously. He literally needed to pause for a moment, savouring the incredible feeling of being fully sheathed inside you before he started to move. “Fuck, baby… so fucking tight.” He murmurs, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. You start to roll your hips, working yourself on his thick length. “That’s it—just like that… nice and slow.” Hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds and kneading the flesh as he watches your face intently. Taking in every little flicker of emotion and pleasure that crosses your features.
He growls, feeling your pussy clench and squeeze around his pistoning length. God, even his voice is so damn hot, your mind was too drowned by how sexy he was until you felt a sharp slap on your ass, making you squeal. “Ride me harder, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.” Wonwoo leans up to bite at your neck, sucking a dark hickey into your skin as he feels your movements turning more desperate and needy.
You started to bounce on his cock with increasing fervour, your ass smacking against his balls with each downward grind. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely in the room, spurring him on to fuck into you even harder and deeper.
Your knees tremble on either side of him, digging the sheet for support. Nails digging further into his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not with the way you’re writhing and mewling so sweetly above him. Your cunt milking his cock for all it’s worth.
And it’s so fucking hot.
Wonwoo slams up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses and throbs inside your spasming cunt, throwing his head back with a loud groan rumbling from his chest at his release. You moaned out loud too, mouth hanging as you held him tight. The feeling of his release seems to trigger your own, and you feel your body stiffening beneath him as your climax crashes over you.
With one last shuddering breath, he finally pulled back, taking in your blissed-out expression with a satisfied smirk. He peppered soft kisses across your face, his touch unexpectedly tender after everything that had just happened. You could feel your heartbeat racing, matching his.
“More?” you murmured against his lips, a playful smile tugging at yours.
“Thought so.”
Without warning, he flipped you onto your back against the mattress, earning a small yelp from you followed by breathy laughter as he settled himself between your legs. Your little escapade with him continued into the night. After all, the night was still young.
How to say “I hate you" in a nice way? It’s simple. “You are the Monday of my life.” Seungkwan always bristled whenever you said that, usually while you were asking him to clean the grease. It wasn’t even his turn, which would inevitably lead to him bickering with Chan about whose turn it actually was. At this point, you might as well be your own employee at your own cafe.
But hey, you like to think you’re a good boss.
The older you get, the more you understand why roosters just scream to start the day. Back in college, you used to wake up and sit there, contemplating whether to skip class. Maybe cry a little. Your greatest joy was waking up without the crushing sense of responsibility.
Now? You’ve never felt so good. You were actually… happy.
Even your nephew had asked Chan and Seungkwan why you were in such a good mood today. You were practically glowing.
There was no denying it, that one-night stand with that ridiculously attractive man had put you in an excellent mood. It was a shame you didn’t get his contact, though. When you woke up, tangled in the soft comforter, he was already getting ready to leave. He seemed in a rush. You were far too sore and far too comfortable to chase after him. Too much hassle, you thought.
Like some kind of Cinderella, he disappeared just like that. And honestly? You didn’t think you’d ever experience sex the same way again. Not that you were mad or anything. You hate being mad. It takes you almost two and a half years to calm down.
So for now, it was just you and your coffee beans, trying to figure out whether today was even necessary. According to the weather, though—it was bright and sunny. You greeted your customers with a warm smile (which you rarely did), and for once, everything felt… light.
Sunoo stared at you with concern as he blended the coffee beans beside you. “Did she win the lottery or something?” he whispered, leaning toward Seungkwan.
“I don’t know, kid,” Seungkwan shrugged, not even looking up as he handled the pre-orders. “She’s having one of her episodes. I’m not getting involved.” He paused, then added dryly, “It’s either her inner peace is sponsored by caffeine… or sarcasm.”
Your nephew just shrugged it off, continuing to help with the brewing. “By the way, remember when I told you I’d be having a meeting at your cafe? It’s going to be tomorrow.”
You hummed in response, packing cookies as you glanced up slightly. “Yeah, I remember. The place is spacious enough—you can come by around noon.”
“Great. Then I’ll get going… with my daily intake of coffee, as usual.” He smiled, picking up the book he had tucked under his arm.
You paused briefly. Because that cover looked painfully familiar. That was your work, your webcomic. The one that went viral back when you were in college.
“Where did you get that?” you asked, eyeing the cover before looking up at him, suspicion clear in your expression.
You were pretty sure it was old. There shouldn’t even be active copies of it anymore. You had buried that part of your life a long time ago.
“Oh, this?” he gestured casually. “My team’s working on a big project right now. It’s for a campaign we’re handling.” He took a sip from his drink, completely oblivious to your reaction.
It wasn’t like you were sweating, or panicking.
Or internally screaming.
It was just your own damn book—the one your nephew had no idea existed. You wrote it back in college. It was stupid, honestly, and you weren’t proud of it. You literally wrote about two dudes who were roommates and… well, got very close.
Unfortunately, it went viral back then. You had no idea how it resurfaced now, and frankly, you wanted nothing to do with it.
Sunoo glanced at his phone as he headed for the door. “I’ve gotta go now. Don’t forget about tomorrow! My team and that mean senior will be there too.”
And just like that, he left. Leaving you standing there, wondering what kind of disaster was about to unfold.
...
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Collaboration Inquiry with Carrot Publication.
Hi Belububbles,
I hope this message finds you well. On behalf of my team, our company has previously reached out to your agency regarding a potential collaboration. We were advised to contact you directly; however, we have yet to receive a response to our emails or direct messages.
As this matter is time-sensitive, I would like to request a face-to-face meeting tomorrow at our office, should you be available. Please let us know your availability by today. If we do not hear back from you we will proceed with further steps to move this discussion forward.
Looking forward to hearing from you.
Best regards,
Going Company PR team
+ 82 013-xxx-xxx
You bristled the moment you read the email in your inbox. Just when you were having a perfectly good day, which is ruined. That tone alone was enough to irritate you. Sure, you did ignore unknown callers and random emails. Most of them were spam or obvious scams, and you never bothered checking unless they came through your publication agency.
Still… the audacity.
Come to think of it, Sunoo did mention that his team was dealing with a particulary demanding client. Which probably meant his “superior” had grown a second set of horns by now. You could already imagine someone breathing down his neck, especially with how much he’d been fumbling lately. Not that you could blame him, the expectations sounded ridiculous and apparently, his superior had decided to take it on anyway.
Good thing none of that had anything to do with you.
Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if one day Sunoo quit his job and showed up at your cafe asking for a position. You were short-staffed anyway, it might actually work out.
And now here you are. Standing in front of the Going Company. You had replied to their email yesterday, and they wasted no time contacting you again today. Still, you didn’t appreciate the tone—less of a request, more of a thinly veiled demand.
You rarely made any public appearances for your work. That’s what aliases were for. Working behind the scenes, under your publication agency was exactly how you liked it. You just hoped, really hoped that you wouldn’t run into Sunoo here.
It was a big building after all. Surely, you wouldn’t. Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs
Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs, fingers tapping lightly against your arm. One of the staff had already ushered you in, leaving you alone as you waited for the so-called “representative.” Something about this felt off. And you had a feeling that this meeting was about to get a lot more complicated.
Did you burn your toast today? Nah. That couldn’t be it. But you did burn the cookies. Which meant Seungkwan ended up cleaning the mess after you told him you had an appointment to get to. This is exactly why you have employees. Even if you treat them more like your nieces and nephews despite being around the same age.
The door then opened. Someone had arrived, but of all people you didn’t expect him. You lifted your head lazily, bored and later froze at the sight.
Jeon Wonwoo.
He also stopped mid-step too, one hand still on the chair he was about to pull out, eyes locked on you. Then, slowly he sat down with his hands clasped and composed. Professional. Like nothing had happened. For a second, neither of you moved.
He was dressed in a black turtleneck, lanyard hanging neatly around his neck and glasses. You almost didn’t recognise him at first. He hadn’t worn them the night you met. The two of you just stared for a moment.
Silence filled the air. Awkward and heavy.
Later, you both looked away at the same time, and he cleared his throat. God, you hoped this was just someone who looked like him.
“Belububbles, right?” he began, voice painfully familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. As you’ve probably realized, I’m the one who emailed you.”
Your brows furrowed. So he was the one behind that email.
“I’m Jeon Wonwoo, part of the PR team. I look forward to working with you. Let’s get started.”
Well. Fuck me.
Just your luck. Your one-night stand, your very recent one-night stand was now sitting across from you, acting like a corporate robot.
You offered him a polite smile. Too polite. It didn’t reach your eyes. “Of course. Now, what is it that you’d like to discuss?”
Wonwoo clasped his hands again, diving straight into the explanation, laying out the project, the campaign, the planning. Every detail, every step. Thirty minutes later, he finally finished. He slid a contract across the table toward you. You raised a brow at that. It was all the NDA, policies and terms whatever it was. You hadn’t even agreed yet and they already prepared all this?
Persistent. Just like his email. What kind of passive-aggressive person was this?
“I’m not going to agree to this,” you said with a sigh, placing the document back on the table. “I don’t do public appearances. I thought you already knew that. My agency always consults me first.”
“I’m aware,” he replied smoothly. “That’s why we’re only proposing pre-recorded interviews. No face reveal—just voice, with filters if necessary.”
You were listening. It is intriguing but you need a lot more convincing to do.
“We just want you to participate in our campaign event,” he continued, confidence steady. “We’re gathering artists and writers involved in the project. You’d have your own merchandise, a chance to expand your audience—”
“I don’t really care about that,” you cut in lightly. “But I do like money.”
He blinked. Clearly not expecting that.
“…Right.” He adjusted his glasses. “Then would you reconsider? I’ve read your current work—the one you’re still updating. Wouldn’t you want more people to see it?”
You leaned back slightly, thinking. “I’ve considered it. But I don’t want the kind of exposure that comes with it. People dig. I value my privacy. And I have a real-life job too. A big one.”
He exhaled slooowly, clearly trying to stay patient. “What about physical sales?” he pressed. “Printed copies. You mentioned profit—this is an opportunity to maximize that.”
You wave your hand dismissively. “I’ve had enough of that. My agency handles most of it anyway.”
Honestly, you didn’t need them. You had your own ways, holding out your own event, your own marketing. You knew what you were doing.
Wonwoo momentarily paused. Finally, he tried again. “What do you want?”
You met his gaze. He was stubborn as hell. You hadn’t even planned to negotiate. You just came here to make one thing clear. You weren’t interested at all. With a quiet exhale, you stood up. “Mr. Jeon,” you said, already reaching for your bag, “I came all the way here to inform you that I’m not interested. Also, your email? That sounded more like a threat than a request.” You turned toward the door. “Have a great day.”
“I’m trying to be nice here,” his voice cut in, sharper now, “but you’re making my job difficult.” His voice made you pause as he stood up. “You don’t want fame, money—whatever it is. People like you are always so demanding, and yet here you are—”
You turned your back slowly. His gaze locked onto yours.
“…Though I didn’t expect it to be you,” he added, voice dropping slightly. “Not only are you a brat in bed, but apparently in general too.”
Ah.
There it was.
You smiled sweetly, stepping dangerously closer. “Why?” you tilted your head. “Was audacity on sale this year?” He scoffed quietly at that.
“Listen,” you added, voice light, “acting like a dick doesn’t make yours bigger.” you paused. “…Though, unfortunately, in your case—”
Except that he is.
His eyes narrowed, a low, sardonic chuckle slipping out. “You already know what I’m like,” he said. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”
You glared at him. He didn’t back down either. The silence stretched, until you broke it with a frustrated groan.
“Yeah. I’m leaving,” you muttered, turning back to the door. Then you stopped mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. “For the record?” you added flatly, “It was good dick.” A beat. “But it was a one-time thing. I wouldn’t survive with a dickhead personality like yours.”
You pulled the door open. “It was terrible to meet you, by the way.”
And then you left. Leaving him standing there, rendered speechless, and completely thrown off. You refused to let anyone ruin your day. So, you naturally decided that you did it yourself.
…
Your mood stayed soured the entire day after that meeting with your stupidly, insufferable, annoying, dickhead one-night stand. Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look the moment you walked in. They were very aware of your mood swing, and very determined not to become your next victims. It was fine, though. They were used to it.
Chan tried first. “You look extra pretty today.”
“I’m not raising your pay. Go to work.” you said flatly, not even looking up as you handled the cashier.
“Alright,” he nodded, but lingered for a second. “I mean it, though. You’re really pretty today.”
You hummed, then lifted your head slightly. “…You know what? Hell yeah. I am pretty. Being frowny doesn’t make me ugly—it makes me extra hot pretty.”
Seungkwan and Chan exchanged another look again. Seungkwan shook his head and went back to restocking the pastries.
Ah.
Very normal.
A little while later, Sunoo walked in with his planning team. Just like he mentioned yesterday. You flashed them a bright smile as they approached the counter.
“These are my colleagues,” Sunoo introduced casually. “And this is my aunt. No weird comments.”
“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you all.” you greeted warmly, slipping into your customer-service persona. “Thank you for taking care of my nephew.”
They greeted you back, placing their orders before heading off to their reserved table. Then, two guys lingered. Both are a couple inches taller than Sunoo, one with a sharp jawline, the other with pale skin and mischievous grin.
The pale one smiled a little too confidently. “Hi. You’re really beautiful. Are you single?”
You blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “Oh—I mean… depends on the day, and fortunately today is a yes.”
Sunghoon and Jongseong snickered, nudging each other, while Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. He hated when people did this, especially his own friends.
“Yeaahhh, we’re done here,” Sunoo cut in quickly. “Three iced americanos.” He dragged them away before they could say anything else.
You just watched them go, already ringing up the order. Just as you were about to take the next customer, a deep voice spoke.
“I’d like to pay for their order, and one iced cafe latte.” You didn’t even look up at the person.
“Okay, that would be—” as your eyes finally met with the face, and about to take his card. You immediately screamed. Like you had just seen a cockroach. Hands flew to your mouth, eyes wide in pure horror.
The entire cafe went silent. Heads turned at the scene. Seungkwan and Chan snapped their attention toward you. Wonwoo, just stood there—card still in hand, eyes slightly widened in confusion.
Meanwhile, from across the cafe, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo and whispered. “Man, I knew Mr. Jeon could be intimidating, but I didn’t think he was that scary. Your aunt looks traumatised.”
You still didn’t move. Didn’t even blink or breathe. Seungkwan slowly walked over, glanced between you and Wonwoo. He immediately took over, seeing that you remained unmoved. “Thank you,” he said smoothly, taking the card and finishing the transaction.
Wonwoo didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at you oddly, and suspiciously. He finally turned and walked straight towards Sunoo. Your eyes followed him. And landed right on your nephew’s table. On his team. He was sitting at the centre like he owned the place.
Oh no.
What the hell.
That was the “mean” superior he’d been talking about?
Sunoo cannot know. He absolutely cannot know about your side hustle. And definitely not about that night. Your nephew had no idea that you and his senior had met not just this morning, but very, very personally before that. He had no idea you and his senior had jumped each other like a trampoline in a hotel room.
You only stood there, frozen. Completely mortified at how insanely small the world was. You could’ve slept with anyone, but certainly not this. Not only did you sleep with him, you also argued with him like cats and dogs this morning.
Great. How amazing.
You wanted nothing more than to dig yourself a grave and lie in it. You could scream or maybe cry a little. You know that feeling when you meet someone and your heart skips a beat? Yeah. That’s arrhythmia. You could literally die from that. From the very first moment you laid your eyes upon him, you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life AVOIDING him.
Seungkwan calmly stacked cups while you crouched behind the counter like a fugitive. “You know,” he started casually, “when I used to work at a corporation, I learned a very professional way to say things.” You didn’t even look up. “I’m assuming something bad happened between you and that mean-looking guy over there,” he added, jerking his chin toward Wonwoo’s table.
“I wasn’t.” you sneered.
“It is,” he corrected immediately, like he already knew, and annoyingly, he did. “This was identified early on as a likely outcome.”
“What does that even mean?” Chan popped his head out from the back.
Seungkwan didn’t miss a beat. “It means ‘I told you’ but professionally.”
You abruptly stood up, pretending to busy yourself while sneaking a glance at their table. Wonwoo was speaking behind his laptop, the rest of the team listening intently. Right on fucking cue, his eyes met yours and stayed there. Your gaze hardened, sending him a very clear message, close to a warning or threat. What the fuck are you doing here? Wonwoo merely tilted his head slightly toward his team and mouthed a simple, “Work.”
Oh, he was hilarious. Strangely calm too. Like he was used to handling crises like this. Before your silent rentless fuck you exchanged could continue, you saw Sunoo heading toward you. Instantly, you plastered on a smile. A little too wide.
Your nephew grabbed your arm. “What was that?” he hissed, glancing between you and his table. “Did you really have to scream in his face? I already feel like my soul leaves my body every time he looks at me—if he asks why my aunt is acting like a lunatic, I’m done for.”
You frowned, whisper-yelling back like you were negotiating something illegal. “That was a reflex. He looked too much like my ex.” You blatantly lied, as if you never do that with your nephew through the years of babysitting him.
Sunoo scoffed, grabbing a couple of water bottles. “Yeah, right. You’ve been saying that since I was six. Please don’t embarrass me. For the love of God.” And just like that, he walked back to his meeting.
You exhaled sharply. So much for easy-peasy lemon squeezy. This was more like stressy, depressy, lemon fucking zesty. Life didn’t hand you lemons. It handed you a caffeine addiction, trust issues and zero patience for dickheads like Wonwoo.
So when you noticed him heading toward the restroom, you followed after him. A moment later, he was at the sink, rinsing his hands. He turned around until he was immediately met with you slamming your hand against the tiled wall beside him. He paused, slightly caught off guard. Despite being taller than you, it seems like your anger towards him was taller.
“Did it hurt,” you said sweetly, a sharp smile on your lips, “when you fell out of someone’s asshole and into toilet water, you piece of shit?”
Wonwoo didn’t even flinch. By now, he seemed immune to it. “Not really,” he replied calmly, crossing his arms, “but I know shit when I see one.”
You groaned under your breath, pacing slightly. God, he was insufferable. “Did it have to be my cafe?” you snapped. “Seeing you this morning was already bad enough, and now you just show up here too?”
“I didn’t choose the location,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, “Though now that I think about it… I didn’t know that ray of sunshine was your nephew.” He let out a dry chuckle, stepping a little closer. “It’s ironic, really.”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet the devil everyone’s been talking about,” you shot back. “Didn’t realise it was someone that I used to suck his dick—”
You stopped yourself. Barely.
Wonwoo stiffened slightly, adjusting his glasses. Yeah, that landed. You were not sure if he was taken aback by being a worse senior colleague, or that part when you mentioned of sucking his stupid dick.
He clicked his tongue, gaze steady. “Do I look like someone who goes around flaunting his sex life? Exactly. No way in hell.” You didn’t answer. He stepped closer again, voice lowering. “If you agree to the proposal from this morning, I’ll agree to keep things… civil between us.” Then he stepped back, giving you space.
Silence fell. You studied him for a moment. However, he didn’t look like he was hiding anything. Just a straightforward goal. He gives off that impression of a guy that has no time for relationships, probably terrible at it. A stubborn, workaholic guy with a nasty temper. Possibly hates himself a little.
Not that you were one to judge. You weren’t exactly easy either. Honestly, you didn’t care about him but your nephew? That was a different story. If Sunoo found out—if he ever found out there was no doubt he’d snitch to your sister. You’ll be dead for sure.
You exhaled slowly, reluctantly even. “...Fine,” you muttered.
Life is like a helicopter sometimes. To begin with, you don’t even know how to operate one. One could argue that you're one step closer to death than to having a stable relationship. Some people belong to the streets, but you’d like to think that you belong to the ponds because you’re just a silly goose.
At this point, you don’t think coffee even wakes you up anymore. You just like the idea of having coffee. That is, until someone had abused your apartment doorbell. At this rate, they might as well have broken it and got arrested for it. This place isn’t cheap, you paid a ridiculous amount of money to live here.
Grudgingly, you swing the door open and there he is. Wonwoo, looking completely unimpressed as he casually steps inside like he owns the place. Meanwhile, you’re standing there in your tousled hair and beluga-pattern pajamas.
“I called you multiple times. You didn’t answer,” he said, crossing his arms, eyeing your outfit. “Did you get my text and throw your phone into the Pacific Ocean?”
You let out a scoff, already walking back to your bedroom, which of course he followed. “I was busy. Why are you even here?” you muttered, flopping back onto your bed.
“Busy doing what?” he shot back dryly. “Sleeping at noon?”
“I can be in bed and still be busy,” you mumbled into your blanket. “Busy gathering my strength.”
Wonwoo stared at you incredulously. For a second, it genuinely looked like he was trying not to slam his head into the nearest wall.
“How’s the progress?” he asked instead.
You didn’t answer immediately. Just hummed in against the comforter.
He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply then pulled— no, he freaking suddenly yanked the blanket off you. The cold air hit instantly.
“Okay—what is wrong with you, you psycho?” you snapped, sitting up and glaring at him. “First of all, get out of my room. Second, get out of my house.”
Before he could lunge forward at you, ready to claw his paw at you. Your phone buzzed, signing as you answered without even checking the caller ID.
“I’m heading to your place now,” Sunoo’s voice came through. “I don’t feel like eating cafeteria food—”
Your eyes snapped wide open. “Right now?” you blurted, panic immediately setting in. Wonwoo watched you as you scrambled out of bed, suddenly moving like a hurricane.
Oh, hell no.
Sunoo cannot see him here. Not in your apartment, your room. Just anywhere to be honest. You tried to grab clothes, then froze because this jerk was still here. “Shit—okay, you can’t be here,” you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “My nephew is on his way.”
“What—” Before he could finish, you shoved him out of your room, but the front door unlocked.
Without thinking, you pushed Wonwoo right back into your room and slammed the door shut. Perfect timing. You turned around just as Sunoo walked in and flawlessly smiled.
“Why are you still wearing that at your age?” he said immediately, eyeing your pyjamas.
You ignored that. He walked straight to the kitchen, already opening the fridge, while you trailed behind him. Your eyes dart back toward your bedroom door every two seconds.
“You could’ve asked Seungkwan or Chan to bring you food,” you said, leaning against the counter. “Didn’t your mom give you side dishes?”
“She did,” he replied, rummaging through your fridge. “But my roommate ate everything.”
You scoffed. “Just take what you need and go.”
“Why? Do you have a special somebody over?”
Rolling your eyes, you agreed anyway, “Yes, me. I’m amazing and I enjoy my own company.”
Sunoo stared at you for a second. “...Then explain why there are men’s leather shoes at the entrance.”
You momentarily froze at that. How did you fucking forget about it?
Before he could say anything else, you snatched the container from his hands, shoved food into a bag, and pushed it into his chest.
“Okay—out,” you said, dragging him to the door.
“What about—" The door shut in his face. You exhaled in relief, leaning your forehead against the door and turned to see Wonwoo was already out of your room.
“Is he gone?” he asked, peeking out.
“Yeah. Thank God he didn’t ask more questions,” you muttered, rubbing your face. “How did you even get my address?”
“Your agency.”
You groaned, pacing around again.
“Look, I don’t hate you,” he said after a pause, “I’m just not particularly excited about your existence in my life.”
Turning to shoot another nasty glare, you start. “Put yourself in my shoes, idiot. I wouldn’t care if you got hit with—”
“I wouldn’t wear those shoes if I were you.”
You were utterly speechless at the sheer amount of cockiness this guy had. Whenever he was around, you had the overwhelming urge to claw at him like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.
“I know, why not ask yourself,” you snapped. “Is my dick big enough to match your attitude?" His brows furrowed at that. “Exactly!” You clapped once.
Aaaand just like that, you were arguing again with him. Neither of you noticed the door opening. Sunoo stepped inside and froze. His gaze moved from you then to Wonwoo.
Back to you, then to Wonwoo again.
Wonwoo was the first to notice. You followed his gaze and stopped. There was a thick, almost heavy silence that filled the atmosphere.
“…Hate that you had to find out like this,” you said slowly.
Sunoo blinked, stepping back slowly. “…Okay,” he said carefully, already putting his shoes back on. “I didn’t know you two were… dating.”
Dating.
Dating???
He gave a small, polite bow. Probably directed to Wonwoo. “Goodbye, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you after lunch.”
The door closed later. And you just stood there, still processing everything that happened. Your nephew now thinks you’re dating the biggest man of shit in your life. You might actually need to fake your death this time.
...
“I think I’m forgetting something.”
“Morals, probably?” Wonwoo said without even looking up from his tablet.
“No, it’s something important,” you insisted, about to rise from your seat. “I think I need to go back to the cafe before Chan sets the place on fire.”
Wonwoo’s head snapped up. “Wait—no. Sit down. We just got here… oh my God.” He dragged a hand down his face beneath his glasses. “For the love of God, can you sit still for one moment? It took almost two hours to get you here, and I already helped drop your twins off at school.”
You sat back down reluctantly. “How long is this interview going to take?”
“Depends,” he replied dryly. “If you decide to be difficult, probably more than thirty minutes, and I’ll have to work overtime.”
“I can’t do that,” you shot back. “I have to attend the twin’s family day. Their dad bailed at the last minute.”
He sighed again, looking seconds away from tearing his hair out. Mostly because you had completely missed the sarcasm.
“Nevermind. Let’s just start.”
He set the voice recorder on his phone and straightened in his chair. “First of all, thank you very much for agreeing to work with us. We’re very delighted.”
“Thank you. It’s my pleasure too,” you answered flawlessly.
“How did you decide to create such interesting characters in most of your stories?”
You thought for a moment. “I honestly didn’t think too deeply about it. I started writing back in college. I met a lot of different people, so I borrowed certain traits here and there.”
“What made you shift from writing novels to illustrating them?”
“I had a lot of free time back then, and writing gave me plenty of ideas. I knew readers enjoyed the stories too. I didn’t want to stop writing, so instead I adapted them into manhwa so readers could visualize them.”
Wonwoo typed something down before continuing. “On a different note—do you wish to publish another novel one day?”
You crossed your arms, considering it. “I don’t think so. I already have too much on my plate, and illustrating takes time. Maybe after I finish my current project, I’ll think about writing again.”
“How did you feel when you learned your first work, And They Were Roommates, rose in sales again?”
You stiffened slightly. “Uh… well, I didn’t expect it to go viral again this year. I guess I was delighted? It was unexpected, but I received a lot of positive feedback too.”
Wonwoo nodded and flipped to the next page. “This is a special question from your readers. How did you come up with so many hilarious dialogues? They found the comedy really engaging.”
“Ah.” You visibly relaxed. “At first, I never meant for it to become a comedy. I just like writing characters who are witty, so I guess readers found that funny.”
“I can see that,” he said, then continued. “Another fan question: did you base your character’s personalities on real people?”
You made a face. “Well… they’re not wrong. I’ve met my fair share of terrible people and let too many assholes into my life. Real-life suffering became entertainment.”
His eyes narrowed. “Language.”
“What? I speak nothing but the truth.”
He only shook his head. “We’re getting nowhere if you keep doing this. I’ve done some self-reflection—if you cooperate, this can end faster.”
“Oh, so you did have a talk with your dick last night?”
Wonwoo immediately paused the recording and stared at you with a long, exhausted sigh. “Can we put that aside? And no, I did not talk to my dick.”
You crossed your arms. “Fine. Next question.”
He resumed recording. “Another fan question: how did you come up with such funny dialogue and plots?”
“Actually,” you said, “I’m not that funny. I think I’m just an asshole, and people assume I’m joking. That’s how I ended up making rude characters everyone somehow loves.”
He paused the recording again. “Would it kill you to give me one normal answer?”
“What? That is my honest answer.”
“It’s not appropriate for the media.”
“Then make it appropriate. That’s literally your job.”
Yeah. The two of you were getting absolutely nowhere.
After the interview, Wonwoo somehow found himself babysitting your niece and nephew, the twins, who were now sprinting around his office. He needed a bucket of caffeine, a fever patch, and divine intervention. Not because of the kids, because you had very clearly dumped them on him like he was a free daycare service.
“What’chu doin’?” Wonhee asked, propping her chin on his forearm while he typed.
“Work,” he answered flatly.
“Oooo. About what?”
“Work.”
“What kind of work?” Wonjun asked this time.
“Work,” he repeated.
“I want Auntie’s cheesecake after this!” Wonhee cheered, bouncing excitedly before both twins ran circles around his desk.
God, just kill me. He was screaming internally.
A knock came at the door. It opened to reveal Sunoo, holding finalized planning documents. Wonwoo nearly saw heaven.
“Sunoo!” the twins yelled in unison, rushing him immediately.
“Sorry, guys, I’m at work right now, so I can’t play,” he said, patting their head before looking back at his superior. “Yeahhhh… I actually have plans with the team after this,” Sunoo added awkwardly, already stepping backward.
Even Sunoo knew better than to get involved. He quickly shut the door. Wonwoo turned back to his computer and resumed typing aggressively.
“Uncle Won. Uncle Won. Uncle Won,” Wonjun repeated, tugging at his sleeve.
“What?” he replied flatly, eyes still on the screen.
“I need to go potty.”
Wonwoo finally looked down.
“Now?” The boy nodded desperately.
“If you don’t take him now, he’ll tinkle in his pants,” Wonhee informed him with complete sincerity.
Wonwoo muttered something under his breath, then immediately scooped the boy up and marched out of the office.
The entire team watched in stunned silence. From across the room, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo. “I think you’re getting another playmate soon, dude.”
Sunoo scoffed, scowling as he scrolled through his laptop. “Stop that. It’s not funny. I don’t care. Even if they break up, I still lose.” He pointed dramatically in each direction. “They break up—I still have to see his face at work. They stay together—I still have to see his face at work.” He slumped in defeat, “My life has no winning route.”
...
“Baby.”
Wonwoo looked at you as the twins zoomed around your cafe, clearly bothering your two staff members.
“What?” you shrugged. “You want me to call you fellow associate instead?”
He was one step away from crashing out. First, you made his work life hell. Second, you had dropped the twins off at his office not once, not twice, but three times. Wonwoo was good at his job. Great, even. Then when you walked into his life. The tragedy followed.
“Aunty! Aunty!” Wonhee bounced on her feet, reaching up. You picked her up easily. “Tomorrow I have a soccer match! Teacher Yoon said we can bring our parents!”
“But Papa said he can’t come,” Wonjun huffed, stomping lightly. “Something about work.”
Your heart softened instantly. Your brother was busy running his law firm, and even though he and his ex-wife were divorced, they were still co-parenting well. With their busy lives, complicated timing—that was all.
“Oh, alright then. I’ll go,” you said, giving in easily.
“That’s unfair—I wanna see them play!” Seungkwan popped up from behind the counter.
“Wait—count me in!” Chan added.
You rolled your eyes, setting Wonhee down and placing your hands on your hips.
“No. I need both of you to take care of the café while I’m gone. And Chan, I know you’re just using that as an excuse to slack off.”
Chan dropped the cloth dramatically onto the counter. “Aw, man.”
“Will Uncle Won come too?” Wonjun asked, clinging to Wonwoo’s leg and staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
Wonwoo stiffened, his gaze flicked to you. You smiled in return, a little crooked and suspiciously sweet.
“Umm… he’s kinda busy,” you said, brushing imaginary dust off your shoulder. “He has a big adult job. He might not make it.”
Both twins immediately started whining loudly. For a second, you remembered just how insufferable they could be. The last time you babysat them, they threw a full-blown tantrum over Haribo marshmallow chocolate.
“Okay, stop,” you deadpanned, staring at Wonjun, who had dramatically sprawled onto the floor. “You don’t demand things from someone you barely know. Show some respect to your elders. And get off the floor—it’s dirty.”
“I just mopped that,” Chan added.
You ignored him.
“You and Papa always say the same thing!” Wonjun protested, sitting up. “He says, ‘respect your elders,’ but he never comes to my singing or storytelling!”
…Ouch.
“Yeah!” Wonhee chimed in. “Papa says stuff like that because he’s old and forgetful. Aunty, you’re becoming like Grandpa too.”
“Hey now,” you crossed your arms. “If anything, I’m better.”
Wonwoo nearly rolled his eyes. Wonhee suddenly turned to him, already halfway climbing into his arms. “Uncle Won, please come! I want to show you my super cool kick!”
He froze completely. He looked at her, then at you and then back at her. He said nothing. Mostly because he knew what would happen if he refused. Flashback from his office with all the screaming, he was sure people from the outside could heard that loud and clear.
You caught his eye and subtly shook your head.
Don’t. Encourage. Them.
“Aunty,” Wonjun said suddenly, frowning, “why don’t you want Uncle Won around? It’s like Mama and Papa.”
Your expression faltered. “…Hey. I’m nothing like them,” you said, quieter this time.
That one hit a little too close. You sighed, then reached out and ruffled his hair.
“Fine. We’ll see tomorrow. If we can make it.”
That was enough to make the twins lit up instantly.
From across the cafe, three figures watched the entire scene unfold like a live drama. Seungkwan leaned on the counter. Chan mirrored him. Sunoo stood between them, looking deeply troubled.
“I don’t like where this is going,” Sunoo muttered.
Seungkwan shook his head. “No, no—let them keep going. This is good.”
Sunoo turned to him slowly. “…Good?”
“Would you rather they take their frustration out on us?” Seungkwan pointed out.
Chan nodded immediately. “Fair. Also, there’s a chance our boss might raise our pay if she’s in a good mood.”
He clasped his hands together dramatically. “I will pray for that. I refuse to suffer in a cafe with emotional damage and no bonus.”
Sunoo stared at both of them. “…Yeah. That checks out.”
The exhibition was going well so far. Wonwoo liked to think all his hard work had finally paid off. Unfortunately, he had forgotten one thing.
You.
Your mere presence alone was enough to test the last thread of his patience. He just needed to keep his shit together for one day. Just this once.
“You didn’t wear your glasses today,” you remarked, openly scanning him from head to toe, and annoyingly enough, he looked devastatingly handsome. If only he kept his mouth shut. “You’ve stared enough, perhaps?”
His head snapped toward you, brows knitting together. “It’s nine in the morning,” he hissed. “Stop fucking testing me.”
“Ah, ah,” you interrupted, waving your VIP lanyard around obnoxiously. “I’m the important guest here.”
“I should’ve thrown fertilizer at you so you could grow the hell up,” he muttered, trying very hard to remain professional.
“Oh yeah?” You scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I were an octopus so I could slap you with all eight tentacles at once.”
He already looked tired. You continued anyway.
“Actually, maybe I’d use them to peg you down so you’d finally learn how to bow your head.”
Wonwoo blinked, once then twice. He genuinely didn’t know how to respond to that. So he just stared at you in silence, expression unreadable, wondering how you always managed to hit new levels of insanity before ten in the morning.
Right on cue, another familiar figure approached.
“Hey, Wonwoo—oh.”
The man halted when his eyes landed on you. “I didn’t know you were here,” he grinned brightly. “It’s been forever.”
It was Mingyu.
You froze.
Oh, for the love of God.
“O-oh… yeah. Haha.” Your laugh sounded faker than the fake Chanel bag you once bought online. “What an… unexpected reunion.”
Mingyu had been your junior back in college. And unfortunately, very unfortunately—your old BL series was heavily inspired by him. Mostly because he never shut up about his roommate constantly invading his personal space. At the time, you were just a broke college student trying to survive. You never expected And They Were Roommates to blow up the way it did.
People would read shit anything.
Mingyu casually slung an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo, meanwhile, looked between the two of you suspiciously. He did not like where this was going.
“I work here,” Mingyu explained cheerfully. “Different department though. Remember that roommate I used to complain about all the time?”
He pointed directly at Wonwoo. “Yeah. It’s this guy.”
Your smile twitched violently.
Oh.
Oh, this was bad.
Out of all people, the world really was disgustingly small.
“Real question is,” Mingyu continued, narrowing his eyes playfully at you, “why are you here?”
You absolutely could not tell him you were the main guest of the entire event. So instead, you smoothly covered your VIP pass with your hand and flashed a dazzling smile.
“Oh, you know…”
Before your brain could stop you, you looped your arm through Wonwoo’s.
“Unfortunately,” you sighed dramatically, “for someone who treats life like a joke, I’m being serious this time.”
Mingyu looked unconvinced, very unconvinced. He glanced between the two of you like he was trying to solve a math equation with missing numbers. To him, this pairing made absolutely no sense. You, whose personality is like a hurricane, and Wonwoo—who somehow managed to be equally unbearable in a completely different flavor.
Birds of a feather really did flock together.
“…Good for you guys?” Mingyu finally said slowly. “I mean… wow. Match made in heaven.”
The way he said it sounded less like support and more like disbelief.
Before he could ask more questions, you immediately cut in.
“I’d love to continue this questionnaire, Gyu, but Wonwoo and I have somewhere to be.”
You tugged Wonwoo’s arm tighter. “Right, baby?”
“No? What are you—”
“Oh yes, you do, baby,” you cut him off sweetly, already dragging him away. “I know you can’t wait to see the twins.”
With that, you escaped while Mingyu simply stood there, watching the two of you disappear into the crowd. Hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted slightly, he frowned to himself.
How the hell did that happen? Because as far as he knew, both of you were disasters individually.
...
Here you were, sitting beside Wonwoo while watching the twins’ soccer match. Honestly, he didn’t know how he ended up tangled in all of this. Not once or twice, but somehow—every single time he crossed paths with you, his life became increasingly complicated.
At first, he told himself it was only because of the contract, mainly because of work.That staying close to you made things easier professionally. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.
Your routines somehow became his problems too, and the worst part? He could’ve said no at any point. So why the hell was he still here?
You nudged his arm excitedly while cheering for the twins. “Take pictures,” you whispered. “They’re gonna ask for them later.”
Wonwoo blinked before adjusting the camera lens in his hands and taking several shots without complaint.
At this point, he was more involved than the twins’ actual parents.
“You could at least smile or look excited,” you sighed, finally turning to face him.
The lively noise of families and cheering echoed around the field.
“You look like a robot. What if the twins notice?”
He lowered the camera slowly and looked at you instead. He stared at you with silence, and blank-faced as always.
You narrowed your eyes. “Do you need smiling lessons?”
You turned toward him properly, using your fingers to demonstrate. “Okay, look. Make your eyes curve like little shrimp—then lift your cheeks up like this—and…”
Grinning brightly, you continued, “S.M.I.L.E.”
For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at you, quietly. The noise around him faded into the background. The wind brushed past gently, making strands of your hair sway under the sunlight in a way that almost looked unreal.
His chest flutters at the sight. It felt oddly similar to the tiny happiness of a stray cat approaching him first, or when his favorite buldak noodles were finally restocked after disappearing for weeks.
It was small and unexpected, but enough to steal his breath away. Wonwoo immediately buried the feeling before it could settle deeper. He cleared his throat, looking away quickly and lifting the camera back toward the field.
You, completely oblivious, muttered under your breath.
“Jerk.”
Then immediately went back to loudly cheering for the twins.
...
By the time all of you arrived back at your place, Wonwoo was carrying your niece while you carried your nephew, both twins completely passed out after dinner with your parents.
At this point, he was involved way too deeply in your family functions.
What made it worse was the fact that your parents didn’t even seem surprised by his presence anymore. It was almost like they had already accepted him and had simply been waiting for the day you finally brought a man home.
Honestly, they probably saw him more often than some actual relatives. He still remembered how your mother kept asking when you were going to get married. And knowing you, of course you only gave half-assed answers.
It reminded him of Mingyu’s grandfather, whose dementia was apparently so bad that he kept asking whether his cousins had jobs.
Ten times.
And ten times, they had to admit they were still unemployed. Honestly, Wonwoo didn’t even think it was dementia anymore. The old man was probably just in disbelief that they were still jobless.
The twins were quickly settled into their room, exhausted after burning through all their energy earlier. You let out a long sigh, stretching your limbs—only to find Wonwoo sprawled across your sofa like a man who had already given up on life.
“Go sleep at your own place, dude.”
“I’m too tired to drive anymore.”
“Not on my sofa.”
His eyes cracked open immediately.
“Let a man rest, would you?” he groaned dramatically, sinking deeper into the cushions.
“Ooookay,” you dragged out teasingly, already walking toward your room. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me.”
You paused by the doorway and peeked back at him.
“…In my bed.”
Wonwoo sat up instantly. His interest was fully restored.
“You’re messing with me.”
“Yeah,” you answered easily. “I’m fucking with you.”
You casually started unbuttoning your blouse, shrugging it off your shoulders and letting it fall carelessly onto the floor.
Wonwoo’s gaze lingered on your bare shoulders. The loose strap of your camisole slipping against your skin. The atmosphere shifted almost immediately. You disappeared into your attached bathroom, beginning to remove your makeup.
“Don’t joke around like that,” he muttered from behind you.
Before you could react, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against your neck, breathing you in.
“I survived your family all day. I deserve proper compensation.”
A soft laugh escaped you as you tossed the makeup wipe into the bin.
“Sleep outside. I’m keeping the bed to myself.”
Wonwoo groaned against your skin, lips brushing along your neck before trailing to your shoulder.
“Seducing me like this isn’t going to work,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your hip while watching him through the mirror.
“Then I’ll make it work,” he murmured.
He nipped lightly at your ear while kicking the bathroom door shut behind him.
You found yourself kissing him again. The kiss was warm and messy, arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as both of you melted into each other like you had been waiting all day for this exact moment.
The bathroom filled with nothing but mingled breaths and quiet laughter between kisses. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your skirt, rough palms gliding over your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. Like he wanted to press himself into every part of your life.
Then, a sudden knock came.
“Aunty…”
Both of you froze instantly.
Wonjun’s sleepy voice came muffled through the door.
“I need to potty.”
You blinked, slowly turning toward Wonwoo. He stared back with the exact same exhausted disbelief.
“Just…” you struggled, trying not to laugh as his hands remained stubbornly on your waist. “Just use the guest bathroom, baby.”
“But I don’t know how.”
You nearly rolled your eyes.
Of course this was happening.
“Wonjun,” you sighed, “you’re five. You absolutely know how.”
Then came soft sniffles. Apparently being woken up from sleep was enough to trigger a minor emotional crisis.
You groaned quietly, resting your forehead against Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“Wonwoo,” you hissed under your breath, “remove your dick from the situation for one second.”
He actually laughed at that before finally stepping away.
The moment you opened the bathroom door, a sleepy-looking Wonjun stood there with watery eyes and messy hair.
You sighed immediately. There went the mood.
After helping him and reminding him to wash his hands properly, you finally walked back into your room—only to find Wonwoo was already under the duvet. He was shirtless, with his eyes closed. Looking entirely too comfortable in your bed.
“Aunty,” Wonjun asked innocently, “why was Uncle Won in the bathroom with you?”
You swore you heard Wonwoo choke back a laugh.
Keeping a perfectly straight face, you gently patted Wonjun’s head.
“Uncle Won has potty problems too,” you replied smoothly. “I was helping him. Just like you.”
A muffled snort came from the bed.
“Now go back to sleep,” you added. “Aunty needs beauty sleep before she turns into a beast.”
Wonjun nodded seriously and shuffled away.
The moment the door shut, Wonwoo opened one eye.
“Potty problems?”
“Shut up.”
You changed into your pajama pants before climbing onto the bed.
Wonwoo’s hands immediately found your waist as you settled onto his lap, his thumbs tracing slowly against your sides while he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.
He kissed you again, slower this time. Somehow even worse for your sanity. His palms are kneading your ass, almost tender with his touch. You melted into him instantly, fingers tangling into his hair while he pulled you closer—
right before the bedroom door burst open again.
“AUNTY!”
You yelped in shock, shoving Wonwoo away so hard he smacked against the headboard.
Wonhee stood at the door clutching her teddy bear dramatically.
“She won’t stop crying,” Wonjun complained from beside her. “And I can’t sleep.”
You and Wonwoo stared at the twins in complete silence. Then at each other. Just like that, the rest of the night ended with all four of you cramped together in one bed.
...
The next morning came far too quickly. The entire night had left both you and Wonwoo restless and unsatisfied, but at least everyone had slept peacefully. That was until Wonwoo’s snores woke everyone up, and your nephew loudly declared that he sounded like a car engine.
After throwing together something quick for breakfast before dropping the twins off at your brother’s place, you set the plates down on the table while Wonjun sat comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap, inhaling an entire cup of instant ramen. You genuinely wondered if he even chewed those.
“Thank you for the food!” the twins chorused in unison.
Wonhee sat beside Wonwoo, already picking up her food so she could eat in front of the TV in the living room. You shook your head at the sight.
Then your eyes landed on the little boy sitting comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap.
For once, you had never been jealous of children—except maybe that one time you realised you couldn’t order a Happy Meal in your mid-thirties anymore, which you now used as an excuse to buy them for the twins.
“Wonjun, can you go eat somewhere else? There are plenty of seats around here.”
Your nephew looked up curiously, pancake stuffed halfway into his mouth. “Nope.”
Your eyes narrowed. “You’re five. You don’t need to be babied anymore. Yesterday was one thing.”
Wonwoo didn’t seem bothered at all, still securing the boy comfortably in his arms. “Let him be. Why are you so worked up?”
“Of course I’m worked up. That was my spot before they took it over.”
Both Wonwoo and your nephew stared at you. The silence only broke when Wonhee suddenly ran over holding a handmade card.
“Look! Look!” she squealed excitedly. “I made this yesterday at school. Happy Mother’s Day!”
Your heart melted instantly as you accepted the card with a soft smile, patting her head affectionately. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, darling.”
Wonjun immediately scrambled off Wonwoo’s lap and ran toward their room to grab his own version.
You took the opportunity immediately, settling yourself onto Wonwoo’s lap instead. A small “oof” escaped him at the sudden weight.
“Thank you, sweetheart, but I think you should give this to your mom.”
Wonhee leaned against both you and Wonwoo, shaking her head. “I made two! One for mama and one for you because teacher Yoon said Mother’s Day isn’t strictly for biological mothers. You took care of me when I was little, so you have a motherhood role too. You’re basically my mom!”
Then Wonjun returned, proudly handing over his own handmade card filled with messy scribbles and barely readable words.
The twins kissed both your cheeks before running back to the living room.
“They sure love you a lot for someone like you,” Wonwoo muttered.
“It’s a shame I can’t officially be called a mother.”
His palm slid gently against your lower abdomen as he leaned closer, voice dropping lower.
“I can change that.”
You immediately slapped his hand away. “Wow, look at you. I’m surprised kids are drawn to an asshole like you,” you replied nonchalantly while taking a bite of your pancake.
“The genes never lied then,” he murmured while squeezing your waist. “There’s a reason you ended up with me in the first place.”
You nearly choked at that, refusing to acknowledge how true it sounded.
“Did you know belugas don’t chew their food? Yeah, it reminds me of you inhaling those noodles. Who the hell eats like that?”
Wonwoo shrugged as he continued inhaling the noodles. “It tastes better this way.”
“Only a psychopath would eat like that.”
“Then tell me who the hell gets jealous over a kid sitting on my lap?”
You stared at him, and he stared right back just the same.
“I’m not jealous,” you replied a little too quickly.
“Who said it was you?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, and you immediately wanted to slap the hell out of him.
“Anyway,” you quickly changed the topic while sipping your tea, “did I know you from somewhere? How did you and Mingyu know each other aside from being roommates?”
He thought for a moment, adjusting himself while you still sat comfortably on his lap. “We went to the same school and university. He doesn’t like sharing spaces with strangers.”
You mused at the information. “You went to the same school as me? Why did I never see you around?”
“I was in the Faculty of Business and Management. Maybe that’s why. Mingyu took architecture before changing to finance and accounting.”
You paused mid-bite and turned toward him. “Oh, I was in the Faculty of Applied Science… something like that. I guess that’s probably why I never saw you.”
“What did you major in?”
“Food science,” you answered simply.
After a brief silence, you spoke again.
“I’m surprised you and Mingyu haven’t kissed each other’s asses yet.”
“I know I’m an asshole, not an assfucker.”
You burst out laughing at that while reaching for his wallet and flipping through his ID picture and cards.
“What do you call a baby whale? A little squirt!”
“You’re not funny,” he deadpanned. “Give me that. Don’t go checking what’s inside.”
Did you listen? Of course not. When have you ever listened to anyone anyway? You barely listened to your parents, so why would you start with him?
“Knock knock,” he suddenly said.
You raised a brow but played along anyway. “Who’s there?”
“Whale,” he answered simply.
“Whale who?”
“Whale…” He paused before immediately snatching the wallet away from your hands. “That’s enough of that.”
You rolled your eyes before shamelessly eating half of the ramen that clearly belonged to him.
“I hope your entire generation experiences bad luck in every possible streak.”
He narrowed his eyes on you. “I’ll just marry you then. We’re going down together whether you like it or not.”
“Give me your card.”
“No. Use your own, you have money.”
“You said you’d marry me. I want to be spoiled,” you whined dramatically while leaning against him like an oversized cat. “I’ve had enough of being the alpha woman all year long.”
“I don’t want you using my money to buy your own diamond ring. I want to buy it for you.”
You turned your head toward him properly this time.
He looked completely serious.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I’m not being sarcastic today. Maybe tomorrow, though.”
Before you could even process that, the twins suddenly came running over excitedly. Wonhee repeatedly called your name as if you weren’t literally sitting right there.
“When can I see you become a princess one day?” she asked excitedly, twirling around while showing you a picture of a bride on her tablet.
You hated admitting it, but every year you were reminded that maybe you would never become one—though you were certainly close to becoming a witch.
Still, you smiled softly.
“Oh, maybe soon.”
The little girl gasped excitedly, eyes sparkling. “Does that mean Uncle will be your prince? And I want to stay with you the whole time when you become a princess!”
“I think he’d be more like the villain who stole the princess away rather than Prince Charming.”
“Villains are way cooler,” Wonjun added confidently.
Wonwoo merely rolled his eyes at your comments.
“Besides…” you trailed off, leaning closer until your lips brushed against his. “The evil ones are always hotter…”
You chuckled softly before kissing him, earning a smirk from Wonwoo almost immediately.
The twins loudly made gagging noises before scurrying away to continue playing around the living room. You and Wonwoo watched them go before falling back into your own little world together, spending the rest of the morning tangled up in each other before the weekend truly began.
Unfortunately, your love life never unfolded like those Prince Charming fairytales. Instead, it felt more like a ridiculous romcom sitcom filled with stupidity, arguments, and way too many unfortunate coincidences.
Unfortunately, you never met him sooner back in school. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have spent so long giving up on love.
Fortunately, though, you loved the way invisible strings worked.
It was beautiful that way. And fortunately, this piece of shit was yours forever to keep.
FIN.
a/n: omg, i'm finally free!! now i can focus on cheol's fic. it wasn't supposed to be so long, i spent the entire time writing shit in here. i tried eating noodles without chewing btw, almost left me choking to death and never again. it's always the shitty fic that everyone enjoyed, goodday apples! comments, reblogged are appreciated :)
Synopsis: after a failed night out your best friend, Jihoon, comes to rescue you from the cold pavement outside of the club. What he doesn’t know is that you’re suddenly down bad for him and don’t know how to cope with these new feelings.
Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content | oral (f. Receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dom! Jihoon
Authors note: it’s about time I posted a fic for my ult, I have no clue why it’s taken this long. Domestic Jihoon is so hot to me and I hope you all like the way I’ve written him! Btw I know he doesn’t drive but in this he does okay:))
“Y/n?”
You look up from where you were perched on the side of the road, the entrance of the club blasting with loud music behind you.
You had left to get some air. Your ‘friends’ had already ditched you for random guys, and at this point, all you wanted to do was go home.
So naturally, you called Jihoon.
You didn’t expect him to get here so quickly, but when something is urgent, Jihoon doesn’t hesitate.
“Hey,” you stand from the cold concrete, being pulled into the muscular arms of the man before you. “Thank you for coming to get me,” you exhale into his chest.
“You know I’ll always come and get you.”
Jihoon releases you from his embrace, holding you by the shoulders to take in your appearance.
“Have you been drinking?” He asks, trying to get an idea of how intently he would be looking after you tonight.
He was your childhood best friend, always there for you no matter the circumstance.
“I had like two drinks. I thought we would all be leaving early but they met some guys and wanted to stay,” you try not to sound pathetic, but you knew he could see straight through you.
Your recent mission of finding female friends your age wasn’t going exactly to plan. Jihoon was 5 years older than you, which doesn’t seem like much, but when all he and his members do is piss about like prepubescent teens, you thought it might be time to make some girl friends.
“You need to find some that actually care about you and don’t just use you to make their friend group bigger,” he sighs, pulling you back towards him.
The warmth of his embrace made you feel safe on a night surrounded by unfamiliarity. He was the best part of you, and it suddenly made you sad to realise you thought you needed more.
“Can we go home?”
“Yeah, come on babygirl.” Jihoon leads you to his car, opening the passenger door for you and then closing it gently when he could see that you were seated comfortably.
As he got into the driver's seat and closed the door, the air shifted into a calm silence. The outside noise from the club was drowned out by Jihoon’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel and the light hum coming from his lips.
“You want to come to mine? I can make you some food,” he calmly suggests, patting your leg and then resting his hand there.
This type of behaviour was normal between the two of you. His over caring attitude bordered on sexual tension to anyone outside of you and him. The other members were skeptical of your relationship at first, but soon grew to realise that it’s just how you were with each other.
However…tonight? His light touch on your thigh felt heavy. The warmth from his fingers was burning a hole in your skin, and you were scared to even question the warm feeling between your legs.
“Yes please,” you whisper, eyes fixated on his hand.
You were silently praying that he didn’t pick up on your shy demeanor, but you couldn’t help the change in attitude.
Jihoon’s hand moved back and forth from the gear stick to your thigh throughout the drive, and somewhere along the way, your once chatty tone had reduced to silence and a red face.
When you finally reached his place, he parked his car, getting out to make his way to your side.
“Do you want ramen? Or should I order a pizza?” Jihoon asks, resting an arm loosely around your shoulder while you walk to the door.
“Whatever takes the least amount of effort,” you say.
Usually you wouldn’t care how much effort he put in; you would just ask for what you wanted knowing he would do it no questions asked.
But you had no clue what this foreign feeling was. It was taking over your entire body, and the only thing you could think to do was take a cold shower and ignore your best friend for the rest of the night.
“I know you want ramen; you always do after a night out,” he says, opening the door and hanging back so you could enter first. “I’ll make two portions and whatever you don’t eat, I’ll finish.”
Over the years, Jihoon had gotten used to your ‘eyes bigger than your belly’ ways. He would always wait for you to eat as much as you wanted and then finish your leftovers. Tonight, however, it was turning you on in ways you couldn’t even begin to understand.
You turned to wander off into Jihoon’s bedroom where he kept a drawer full of your clothes. Getting changed out of your clubbing clothes and into something more comfortable seemed like it might help you feel more familiar in your setting so the turned on feeling would maybe turn off.
“Do I not have any more clean sweats in here?” You call out to Jihoon after finding the drawer empty other than a few t-shirts and cozy socks.
Jihoon pokes his head around the door frame, his jacket had been taken off, leaving him in a tight t-shirt that hugged his big arms perfectly. No stop it y/n, please stop it.
“Uhh i think there’s two pairs still in the wash from when Soonyoung spilled his drink on you last weekend,” he said before looking toward his closet, “just wear some of mine.”
fuck.
You wear his clothes all the time, this should be normal right?
As soon as you open the closet door, you’re hit in the face by his smell. A smell so familiar and comforting to you that it should remind you this is your best friend you're thirsting over and you need to stop. But all you can think about is being completely suffocated by that smell, burying your face in his neck so you could get more of it.
Get a grip y/n.
You had changed and already settled in on his couch when he approached you holding a bowl of ramen. His sweats sat low on his hips, and suddenly, you weren’t just hungry for ramen.
After placing the bowl on the table in front of you, he sat down; the warmth from his body was being projected over you as his leg pressed up against yours.
You scoot up the couch a bit, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
He did. Of course he did.
“Do I stink or something?” He laughs, lifting his T-shirt to his nose. The movement exposed his lower stomach, giving you a full view, really not helping whatever it was that had taken over you tonight.
“No um—I just,” you look down at your hands, picking at your nail polish to try and distract yourself from him. “I probably smell bad, you know, because of the club.”
Without any hesitation, he leans towards you, burying his face into your neck and taking a deep breath in. Fuckkkkk.
“You smell fine, y/n,” he says, pulling back only slightly, close enough that his nose is still inches from yours.
You feel like you’re in a trance, completely paralysed by his gaze, and you can’t help but stare back.
“Jihoon—please don’t,” you whimper, eyes locked on his.
His confused expression from before grows stronger.
“What’s going on, y/n? You look like you’re in love with me or something,” he lets out a quiet laugh, patting your thigh and returning to his position on the couch.
Just to tease you further, he moves to close the gap you had just created, causing you to sit thigh to thigh.
As he reaches for the tv remote, your eyes trace the veins on his arms. His strong hands gripping the remote, making you wish they were gripping your throat instead. You needed him so bad, but there was no way you could tell him.
No way that wouldn’t ruin your friendship.
“Hello?? What are we watching?” Jihoon was waving a hand in front of your face, snapping you back to reality, “Were you staring at my arms?”
“No um—I just,” you fail to form a coherent sentence. Your only option at this point was to walk home and pray that you could sleep this feeling off.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking concerned now.
You gulp, not being able to hold eye contact, “I just have an issue, it’s nothing.” Jihoon discards the remote, the sound of the tv muffled under the weight of your need for him, although your unfocused eyes stay fixed to the blurry shapes on the screen anyway.
“What do you need? You know I’ll do anything for you, baby girl.”
You wince at his words. The nickname he’s used for you hundreds of times throughout your life was now the cause of a river bigger than the Thames, “No, you can’t help me with this.”
A look of confusion floods his face when you dare to look at him. His kind eyes now held a glint of seduction that only you could see. “Why not?”
You hesitate, unsure on how to continue this conversation without leaping on him. Without sacrificing everything.
“Because you would find it weird,” you blurt out.
Jihoon sighs and rubs his face, frustration painted across his skin, eyebrows furrowed like he was about to give up on asking. But he doesn’t. He never has.
“Maybe tell me what it is before you predict my answer,” he puts his hand on your thigh again and you can’t do anything but stare down at it, your mouth hung open.
“I can’t tell you, I’m too embarrassed.”
“When have you ever been embarrassed in front of me?” His tone was becoming irritable, however the look on his face had softened, almost like his brain was aggravated with you but his commitment was fighting it.
“Nothing has ever been as embarrassing as this,” you feel your face heating up to the point you’re worried it may explode, eyes still fixed on his hand that rests against your aching skin.
“Y/n, I’m not going to force you to tell me but you look so flustered right now and I don’t want to see you feeli—“
“Ugh fuck okay! I’m just really turned on right now! That’s it!” Your hands immediately fly to your face, covering the embarrassment that was seeping out of every orifice.
“You’re…turned on?” He questions, reaching to pull your hands away.
You let him.
“Yes,” you stutter “for you—your hand—in the car,” you had given up, there was no going back. “I’m literally soaked through my thong because of you and I don’t even that think all of the cold water in the world would stop how turned on I am right now so I need to go home or I don’t know, run into oncoming traffic because the way you’re looking at me is making me desperate to kiss you and that’s so weird,” you sigh, shocked at your sudden outburst. Your plan to not make things weird has now definitely failed because of your inability to stop rambling.
He looked slightly taken aback, but then his expression changed to something you couldn’t quite read.
“Would it be weird?” He asks, now being the one failing to hold eye contact.
“I don’t know, would it?”
His gaze finds you again and you watch as his eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, a look of yearning on his face.
He shifts to look at you, his hand leaving your thigh and making its way up to gently caress your cheek, like he was touching a priceless item.
“I don’t think it would be,” he whispers.
You could feel the heat radiating off of him, setting alight to every nerve ending in your body. Fuck.
“You’re really close to me right now,” You breathe.
“Would you like me to be closer?”
“Please,” you almost moan.
Jihoon’s finger finds your chin, lingering there for a second before lifting it lightly. His lips graze yours softly, as his eyes flicker shut. You follow suit when you feel him kiss you.
“Okay?” He asks, pulling back a few inches.
Words are unable to form in your mouth, so your only solution was to pull his T-shirt forward, reconnecting your lips in a kiss that holds more urgency than the last.
“Bedroom,” Jihoon mumbles against your mouth, hands gripping your hips tightly as he lifts you from the sofa you were pressed against.
He carries you to his bedroom, mouth not leaving yours for even a second while your grip tightens around his neck.
The feeling of his hands on your ass and his hardening dick on your heat gives you the friction that you’ve been aching for, but not nearly enough.
Placing you down onto his bed, he steps back to admire you. His eyes held a glint of something you were unable to read. You wanted to know everything he was thinking, you wanted to know what he felt like, his skin against yours, what he tasted like. You wanted it all.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, thought about so many different ways I could make you feel good,” he pushes the long dark hair out of his eyes, “and now I’m here, I don’t know where to begin.”
“You’ve wanted this?” You ask, your breath getting caught in your throat. You and Jihoon were never something you had thought about like this, but now, your entire being is suffocated by the need for every inch of him.
“Y/n, you’re so oblivious, it's adorable,” he moves closer, standing between your spread legs. “I’ve wanted you for years.”
“Why didn't you say anything?” You ask, trying not to make direct eye contact with the growing bulge in his pants.
“For the same reason you were scared to say anything earlier, but now looking at that,” He gestures towards the large wet spot on his sweats you were wearing that you no longer needed to hide from him, “I’m so glad you asked me to pick you up tonight.”
He moves forward, resting his knee on the bed in between your legs, to lean over and kiss you. For the first time in your life, kissing someone felt good. Before, it had always been a thing you thought you had to do, not something you enjoyed. But with Jihoon? You could live the rest of your life with his mouth attached to yours.
You reach down, feeling the soft fabric on the hem of his t-shirt. Pulling it up over his head, you finally got a full view of his bare chest. You had seen him shirtless before, but never like this.
“Tell me what you need, baby girl. I’m yours, whatever you want,” he mumbles, lips going back to meet yours.
“Please, I need you to fuck me” you whisper against his mouth.
“Come here” Jihoon holds your hips as he guides you to straddle him. His lips travel down, sucking and nibbling on your neck, leaving his mark as gently as he could.
He reaches for your t-shirt, tugging at it as if asking for permission before lifting it over your head.
“Fuck, i feel like I’ve waited my whole life to finally be the one to give these the attention they need,” he groans, attaching his mouth onto the skin of your breast above your bra, “can i take it off baby girl?”
“Jihoon if you don’t take it off in the next five seconds I actually might die.”
He lets out a quiet laugh against your skin while reaching around to unhook your bra, "I see you’re still dramatic even during sex.”
“Would you want me any other way?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his face as his eyes meet yours.
“I want every part of you, exactly how you’ve always been,” he leans back slightly, taking in your naked appearance, “you’re perfect.”
Jihoon leans in to attach his mouth to your hardened nipple, keeping the other one between his index finger and thumb.
“Lay down for me,” You follow his command, shyly trying to cover your chest with your arms, but he stops you.
“You don’t need to hide from me,” he breathes, making his way down to your hips with his tongue.
Jihoon removes his sweats from you before running his finger over your covered slit. You let out a soft moan; it was the first time you had seen this side of your best friend, and somehow it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He carefully removes your thong, throwing it to the side.
“Okay, I’m gonna start now. Tell me to stop if you need a break, okay?” He says, giving your hand a slight squeeze but not letting go.
“Wait,” you stutter, grabbing hold of his wrist, “you’re wearing too many clothes.”
He let out a breathy laugh before removing his own sweats. You took the opportunity to look him up and down again. His toned abs made your mouth water, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off the huge bulge in his boxers. He notices.
“Let me take care of you first and then we will get to that, okay?”
You nod in response, bracing yourself while Jihoon settles between your legs.
“Wait! Ji I’m scared,” you declared, looking down at his startled expression.
“What’s scaring you? Let me fix it.”
“I’m just…I’m scared it won’t be the same after,” you let out a sigh while Jihoon sits up facing you, “and I haven’t done it in a while either. I’m nowhere near as experienced as other girls you’ve been with.”
“It will be whatever you want it to be after. I’m yours, no matter what boundaries you set. And I don’t need experienced girls, I just want you. Let me take care of you okay? Stop overthinking and relax baby,” he says quietly, brushing his thumb along your cheek.
You nod, feeling the weight of his care settle deep in your chest. The line you swore you wouldn’t cross had already blurred beyond recognition.
You were right about your friendship not being the same after this. Not when you’ve already fallen in love with your best friend.
Pushing aside those feelings for now, you watch him get back to his position, his dark hair falling over his eyes while he looks up at you through his long lashes.
He licks up your slit gently, before moving his tongue in circles around your clit. He pauses for a second, noticing how tense you are.
“Relax for me baby, just let yourself feel good.” He instructs, bringing a hand down to rest on your inner thigh. He continues to lap at you, holding onto you like you would break if he let go. Releasing your thigh from his grip, he parts your folds gently.
“I’m gonna put one in, you still okay?” Jihoon asks, bringing his head up to read your expression. You had now gone from feeling on edge to feeling euphoric.
“Yeah, I’m good” you respond, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He presses a finger into you, sliding it all the way in, keeping it still for a moment while he listens to your breathing. When he’s checked you’re still okay, he pumps it a few times before curling it inside you.
“Ah—Jihoon” you moan, causing him to go deeper. He reattached his mouth to your clit and added another finger, pumping them in and out of you at a speed that made your eyes roll back. You could feel your stomach tighten, dangerously close to finishing when he stops completely.
He makes his way up the bed to face you, mouth coated in your slick. A wave of bravery takes over you as you grab his chin and bring his lips to yours, tasting yourself.
“That was hot,” he pants when you finally pull away, causing you to smirk and do it again.
Jihoon plants one last peck on your lips before getting up from the bed, pulling his boxers down in one swift motion. His cock springs out, pink and leaking at the tip. You always knew he would be big, but you never thought you would be seeing it up close and personal.
“Woah,” you gawk, eyeing the bead of precum that was making its way down his length.
He laughs at you, making his way over to get back on top of you. “Condom?”
“Wait, I wanna go down on you too,” you whine, trying to push him up a bit.
He shakes his head, lowering it to graze his lips against your collarbone before leaving a soft kiss against the soft skin. “Next time baby, this is about you.”
“Next time?” You ask, reassuring yourself out loud that this wouldn’t be a one time thing. That this wouldn’t ruin your favourite dynamic with your favourite person.
“I swear to god y/n, if there’s no next time, I might actually lose my mind. No one else compares to you.” He kisses you again, letting you explore his mouth with your tongue. “So, condom?”
You shake your head, “I’m on the pill.” You knew that if you were going to fuck your best friend, you wanted to feel every inch of him.
“Are you ready?” He asks, peppering kisses over your cheek and down your neck, stopping at your collarbone.
You nod as he lines himself up at your entrance, using his free hand to grab yours, interlacing your fingers.
“It might hurt a little if you haven’t done it in a while. I’m gonna go slow okay?” He warns before slowly easing into you.
He works himself into you at a very slow pace, which you were thankful for. The stretch was intoxicating, and when he finally bottomed out, he let you adjust for a second.
“Do you need more time?” He asks softly, still every bit the gentleman as he holds himself perfectly still for you, even though the tension in his body makes it clear how much restraint it’s taking.
“No please, I need you to move,”
Jihoon pulled his hips back halfway before thrusting back into you. He felt amazing and it didn’t take long before he was pounding into you. Your whole body was on fire, and the only thing you could do was moan out his name over and over again.
“Holy shit—you’re so tight. You feel so fucking good,” he said in between low breaths. His hips began to move faster; the sound of skin against skin mixed with the headboard hitting the wall filling the room. It didn't take long for the tension to build up inside of you again.
“Jihoon—ah—I’m gonna—” you cried out, squeezing his hand with all your strength.
“Come for me baby.” His words sent you over the edge.
You saw stars while your fingers dug into the soft skin on his shoulder, as he worked you through your orgasm. Your walls constrict around him, causing him to moan loudly before releasing inside of you.
As Jihoon stilled above you, catching his breath, you admired his face. The pink tinge to his pale skin, the sweat that had formed in his hairline and the look of complete lust painted across his expression. You were in deep.
When he had finally come down from his high, Jihoon eased out of you slowly before collapsing on the bed.
“Was that okay?” He asks.
“That was amazing,” you turn onto your front, head resting on his chest as he runs his index finder up and down your spine, “why didnt you tell me you were a fucking god in bed?”
“I don’t think that’s a conversation you have with your childhood best friend who you’ve been in love with for years.”
His eyes meet yours. You stare at him, trying to process what he had just said. The way the L word just slipped out of his mouth so casually.
“I meant it,” he whispers, as if he just read your mind, “you don’t have to say it, I know this is new for you, but I’m ready for anything you want. I'm yours.”
“Jihoon i—,”
You take him in properly then. The curve of his mouth. The steadiness in his eyes. The way he looks at you like he’s already chosen you a thousand times over. You wonder if he has always been this beautiful — or if you’re only just letting yourself see him.
And suddenly, you understand.
You’ve loved him for a long time. Maybe longer than you’re brave enough to admit.
“I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now,” you confess quietly.
Jihoon’s face breaks out into the biggest smile you have ever seen, and you can’t help but smile back before kissing him again.
“Come on, let's get in the shower so i can clean you up,” he says standing and pulling you up with him causing you to groan.
ROOM 217.
part of the puttin' on the ritz collaboration with @studiosvt
pairing: lee jihoon x f!reader
genre: smut, hotel owner/speakeasy manager x server
summary: fresh starts are hard, but running away from your mafia husband is even harder. after escaping the protection of the lucky ace gang and fleeing to new york city, you find lee jihoon, a reserved yet enigmatic hotel owner. the hotel ruby conceals a popular speakeasy, the velvet ruby, within its walls. it takes some convincing, but jihoon eventually offers you a job, a chance at stability and anonymity. but every swanky hotel has its secrets. when you stumble upon the locked door to room 217, nothing could prepare you for what’s waiting on the other side.
warnings: dom!woozi, power imbalance, a lot of obsession, masturbation, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, slightly inexperienced reader, mentions of family death, reader's husband is in a gang, 1920s gang-related violence, use of pet names (angel), woozi is deeply infatuated with reader but it borders onto an insane level = light stalking, also insane rational on the readers part for woozi's obsession (aka these two are freaks). nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 20.9k
note: this fic is a part of the puttin' on the ritz collab hosted by @studiosvt. the team at @studiosvt were so cool to let me participate again and I had a lot of fun writing freaky hotel owner jioon 😈 this is the second time now I've done a collab with them and I've made the member I got an obsessive freak, not sure if that says something about me but . anywho! make sure you check out the other stories in this collab 💘 (taglist posted at the bottom.)
in rotation: just me and you, the dreamliners / off to the races, lana del rey / love me or leave me, ruth etting / cherry, lana del rey / a little death, the neighbourhood / ruby, woozi
Inheriting the Hotel Ruby from his great grandfather had started out honest. A ritzy, well-known hotel that was in dire need of a upgrade was exactly what Jihoon wanted to get his life back on track. Being born into the Lucky Ace gang hadn’t been easy, but escaping it at the mere age of 21 was a feat in itself. Jihoon had experienced it all: violence, homelessness, grief, until finally coming into money. Why his great grandfather had deemed him worthy enough to include in his will – he had no idea. But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He was so sure he was going to make all the money back that was used for renovations, but when the hotel opened around the time of the stock market’s rapid expansion, no one was traveling. No one was wasting their money for flings in a swanky, New York City hotel. Instead, they were pouring their cash into the stock market and hoping for monetary gain. He had a full staff at the hotel, eager for pay, families to feed. He needed the money. In a time of failing businesses and social collapse, Jihoon had nowhere to turn.
This was where the Velvet Ruby came in.
Nestled in a hidden part of the hotel lobby, behind a password protected door, was a speakeasy. Jihoon pulled together the last of his savings, praying for a win, to decorate the old backroom of the hotel into the most swell joint he had ever seen. He had gotten lucky with the location: a speakeasy in an infamous hotel, right in Manhattan, where people were desperate for alcohol … It wasn’t long before the Velvet Ruby was the most popular juice joint for New York’s elite.
Jihoon didn’t want to reach out to old friends, but the only way to smuggle alcohol in was through bootleggers. He typically relied on smugglers from Canada to bring in his moonshine and other popular liquor from distilleries. Using people connected to the Lucky Aces and other gangs, Jihoon created a network of bootleggers so that he never, not once, ran out of alcohol to sell.
With his bartender and partner in crime, Kwon Soonyoung, they ran the Velvet Ruby like the military. Every employee at the hotel was paid fairly, and they even had enough to hire the finest entertainment and several servers that were looking to make a buck. Soonyoung was one of the best cocktail mixers around, and if you were lucky enough, sometimes he got up on the mic to belt out a tune.
The hotel business was steady, but the speakeasy earnings were pulling them through a harsh autumn. Even through the success, Jihoon still had bad days. Days when the music got too loud or the loneliness of leaving his family crept up on him. Sometimes the only warmth he could feel was when he stood outside in the cold rain, inhaling smoke from the cigarette in his gloved fingers, as he watched the light above his hotel flicker.
But if days like this didn’t come up, he probably wouldn’t have met you.
You were standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, when your eyes met his outside the Hotel Ruby. Hair wet and clutching what looked like a torn suitcase, Jihoon stubbed out his cigarette and opened the door for you without a word. You brushed past him, but he could feel you shivering. Water dripped from your coat and onto the plush red carpet, but Jihoon had never been the type to chastise a woman for anything. Not even for ruining his carpet.
He slipped behind the front desk at the lobby because Wonwoo had probably fallen asleep on break. Without looking up from the guest book, he asked, “Looking for a room?”
“Actually, a job.”
Jihoon’s head lifted. The night had shrouded most of your face outside, but now that he was looking at you under the warm lights of the lobby, his body froze. Despite your wet hair clinging to your face, there was a natural beauty about you. Something to be admired. The kind of face that didn’t belong in a seedy city, but somewhere gentle, warm. Your face stood out in a place like New York, where crime and gambling ran rampant.
You weren’t from here.
“We don’t have any positions open at the hotel,” he replied.
“I – I’m n-not –” You stuttered, teeth chattering. The handle of your suitcase shook in your lithe fingers. Voice lowering, you continued, “I’m not asking for a job at the hotel.”
It clicked then, and his brow raised. How did someone like you find out about the speakeasy? He couldn’t dwell on it, not when you had pertinent information. With a cock of his head, he led you into the manager’s office behind the front desk, locked with a golden key. Wonwoo was slumped in a cushioned chair by the door, waking up when the edge hit his foot. Jihoon side-eyed him, and he skedaddled before he could be reprimanded.
Moving the stack of bills to the floor, Jihoon sat down behind the desk and gestured for you to take the seat in front of him. You settled into the chair warily, still shivering, and just the sight of a pretty thing like you suffering made him pause. He stood and rounded the desk, reaching a hand out. You looked up at him with confusion. “Let me help,” he muttered. “Take your jacket off. It’s soaked.”
“O-Oh,” you nodded, sliding the wet material off and handing it over.
Jihoon averted his gaze when he realized your were wearing a white blouse underneath, the line of your undergarments clearly visible beneath the soggy fabric. Clearing his throat, he hung up your jacket before draping an old trench coat over your shoulders that he kept in the closet. You pursed your lips, and he was pretty sure he heard something that resembled, Thank you, sir.
Plopping back down in his chair, the first thing he said was, “You’re not from around here.”
Your mouth opened, but his words caught you off guard. After a beat, you replied, “No. I’m from up north. I took a bus to the city.”
“How did you find out about the Velvet Ruby?”
He was so blunt, his tone like a dagger. You almost didn’t expect it from someone like him. He was broad-shouldered, with dark eyes that spoke to what little sleep he got and slicked-back hair. Two inches shorter than you and smelling like a combination of cigars and expensive cologne, but his words cut sharper than a blade. You hugged the trench coat more on your shoulders.
“It’s because – I’m not –” You exhaled heavily. Your first instinct was to lie – always lie. It had become a habit after you married Han. Rubbing underneath your nose, you decided to be truthful: “I found out because I know the right people. I’m running away from my ex-husband.”
His brow shot up. “Divorced?”
“I don’t have the money to even get divorced. My family is flat. I married up, until I realized …” You smoothed a hand over your tired eyes.
He licked his lips, realizing how much your expression had soured. His back straightened in the chair and he laced his fingers together on the desk. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me, angel.”
The nickname made your gaze flicker to his, and you both let it hang in the air for a moment. The office was so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop. So you cleared your throat. “No,” you muttered, “I probably should.”
He watched your chin fall into your palm, your eyes haunted and somewhere else. Whatever you had experienced left an imprint on you, a bruise that wouldn’t heal. A wave of protectiveness washed over him and he had no clue why. He didn’t know you, didn’t know what you’d been through, but for some reason, he felt the need to crush whoever made you this way.
“Everything okay?” He asked over a long beat of silence.
“I’m trying to fight the urge to lie to you.”
“Oh.”
You finally sat back up, pushing strands of wet hair behind your ear. Your lobe was pointed, something so characteristically you. “My husband’s friend is one of your bootleggers. He sources your gin and rum from Canada. Both him and Han are part of the Lucky Ace gang.”
It dawned on him then – he forgot some of the Lucky Aces reached as far as the north east. They were one of the most spread-out gangs on the eastern part of the U.S., but with the likes of the Chicago Outfit maintaining superiority amongst the crime syndicate, it was hard to believe they were still out there, past the boundary of New York State.
Suddenly, Jihoon felt his breath still. “Han,” he repeated, the name tasting burnt on his tongue. “As in Cheon Han?”
You swallowed, mouth refusing to open.
“Your husband is one of the leaders of Lucky Ace,” he said, though he was sure you knew that from the look on your face. “I grew up with him, until he moved … North.” It was all clicking in his head then: the day they met in elementary school; Jihoon’s 18th birthday when Han revealed he was moving in with his uncle; the night he got the news from his father that “his old friend” had went up in the ranks of Lucky Ace up North, surpassing folks older than him.
“Oh, my god.” He moved his chair back, surprised when it hit the wall. “I can’t hire you. I can’t house you. That’s asking for a death wish.”
“Only if he finds out,” you were quick to say. “I’m not asking for shelter. I got an apartment for myself outside Manhattan. I just need a job to pay for it.”
Jihoon shook his head. “He’ll kill me.”
“Let’s be honest, he never does the killing. One of his torpedos will do it for him.”
He paused, because he knew you were right, and it wasn’t exactly helping your case. You placed a hand on the desk, as if to reach out to him, but your fingers were trembling so much. The tips were red, so warm compared to the rest of your body. When he met your eyes again, they were pleading. “Please,” you said, “I wouldn’t ask for help if I wasn’t desperate. I’m good with customers. I can … I can be a server. I have good balance –”
“All my servers are male. I only hire female dancers.”
Your face fell. “I’m not a dancer. But I can … please. I know you don’t know me, but I’m asking you to take a chance.”
Jihoon stood, his mind swirling with possibilities. He paced in front of the door and ran a hand through his hair. She’s Han’s wife. They’re not even divorced. She’s running away from him. Fucking Christ, if he finds her here, he’s going to kill me –
A hand latched around his wrist. He turned, meeting your eyes.
“He won’t find me,” you promised. “He’s too busy with his deals to ever come home and I planted a seed within his friend group that I was going even further south to see distant relatives. He would never guess I’d be in New York. And if he does …” You looked down, realizing you were still gripping him. His skin was pale and cold, but not as icy as yours. Sucking in a breath, you pulled your hand away. “I’ll make sure I suffer the consequences. Not you. I swear."
It was a gamble. You were a gamble. And he quit betting a long time ago, after a risky night at a underground casino with Soonyoung on his 29th birthday. Jihoon had never been entirely sympathetic, had never let himself be swayed by anybody, and yet … The warmth in your eyes left him stunned. Frightened. Like he could feel the whole world turning on its axis, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He sighed, and then rubbed at his eyes. “The men who come into the joint aren’t kind.”
“I’ve survived my fair share of unkind men.”
“You’d be the only female server. I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a woman.”
“That’s okay. Nothing has ever been easy for me.” You adjusted the coat on your shoulders. “Are you offering me the job?”
He closed his eyes, wondering if he should back out now, but he was already nodding, holding out his hand for you to shake. “Name’s Lee Jihoon. I’ll be your boss.”
“Jihoon,” you repeated, lips pulling into a wide grin. You told him your name, but he decided then that the only name he wanted to call you was angel.
You supposed it didn’t exactly matter what you wore to your first shift, but you planned on being more put together than yesterday. A fresh shower in your new apartment and a couple rollers later, you looked more spiffy than the women having brunch at the Ritz. Your hair was perfectly curled, red smeared onto your lips in a perfect cupid’s bow, and you wore a simple, button-down plum dress. One that you made sure to iron before leaving the apartment.
Jihoon asked you to be on the premises an hour before the speakeasy opened, which was usually around 9 to 10 PM. Naturally, you arrived at 8:45, having just enough time for a cigarette with your hood up. You were on guard these days, never taking a chance to reveal more than half of your face, especially when indulging in your worst habit. After taking one last inhale, you crushed the death stick with the heel of your flat and walked inside the hotel.
You expected to see Jihoon there – behind the front desk, talking to a bellhop, anywhere – but the lobby was empty besides Wonwoo with the guest book. He waved awkwardly to you, looking like a beanstalk in his uniform that hardly fit his long legs. You cowered in on yourself, tucking your hands into your jacket, as you prepared for someone from your past to jump out. Wonwoo was probably looking at you like you lost your marbles.
“Hey, big shot!”
You turned at the loud voice, seeing the back door slam open behind Wonwoo, and the taller male almost jumped out of his skin. Another male with curled dark hair stepped out, just a few inches under Wonwoo, clapping his hands in your direction. He wore a black dress shirt and tie, accompanied by a pair of baggy slacks with the ends tucked into tall, tiger-print socks and leather shoes.
He looked insane, and yet … surprisingly on trend.
When you were within feet of him, he pulled you in by your hand, his grip stronger than you assumed. “Name’s Soonyoung. You’re the new one Jihoon let in, yes?” You nodded, and with your hand still in his, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. His smile was mischievous, but weirdly contagious. “Look at you all dolled up for the first night. As lovely as …” He fingered the collar of your dress and attempted not to grimace. “… This is, you do have a uniform. Which I adapted from what the men wear.”
Wonwoo tossed him a pair of clothes from one of the desk compartments and Soonyoung caught it without missing a beat. He placed the uniform into your arms and spun you around, pointing to the public restrooms. “Change please,” he instructed, although it was more like a demand when he pushed you forward in that direction.
The uniform was tighter than you assumed, but that was a given when you didn’t get anyone your measurements. It still fit, the flared black skirt hugging your waist just right. Soonyoung paired it with a white, collared blouse and an apron that secured around your middle. You hadn’t realized he’d given you an old pair of kitten heels, the leather worn-out at the toe. After slipping on some sheer black tights, you stuck your feet in the shoes and prayed you’d get used to them. You’d never been a pro with heels.
Walking out, Soongyoung sent you smirk of approval before gesturing that you follow him. Wonwoo gave you one last nervous wave, all lanky and long-limbed, before you quickly trailed behind your new tiger-socked friend. He led you down the corridor to the left of the hotel’s entrance, and you noticed the lights getting dimmer the further you got from the lobby. You held your old clothes close to your chest, wary. When you reached the end of the hall, Soonyoung checked you were still behind him and presented the door in front of you both. It was tall and made of iron, with a window slot in the middle that was currently closed. Soonyoung knocked on the door in a specific pattern – two hard knocks, pause, one soft knock, three more hard knocks, slam your palm on the surface – and the window slot opened, revealing a pair of dark eyes.
A whiney voice emerged. “You wanna do that password again for me?”
“Oh, just open the door, Seungcheol!”
The bouncer chuckled, slamming the window shut before tearing the heavy door open. Seungcheol gave you a look as you strode past him, almost tripping in your heels when he winked. Soonyoung looked over his shoulder, glaring at the bouncer, before looping his arm through yours. “Don’t mind him. He’s an ass, but overly friendly. Has a wife at home,” your new friend explained.
Showing you the coat closet, he had you secure your clothes in your own locker before meeting him back out on the speakeasy floor. The joint was small, but clearly prestigious. The lights above where faint and colored in warm tones like yellow and red. Each circular table around the room fit at least four people, decorated with a red velvet tablecloth and a singular rose in the middle. A stage was set up at the front for live entertainment, and you saw a few dancers practicing their routine for tonight. The bar looked new, made out of dark maple and stocked full with every liquor imaginable. This place in fact was the real deal.
Soonyoung raised his arms. “Welcome to the Velvet Ruby.”
“It’s …” You crossed your arms over your chest, eyes scanning the room. “Very dark.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” he gabbed, arm laced through yours again as you both flitted about the rooms. “Depending on the crowd, we won’t give you more than three tables. Just because it’s a small amount, doesn’t mean your attention shouldn’t constantly be on them. This is a business and we’re selling liquor. If someone isn’t being bum rushed out of here because their too canned to walk, I’m not doing my job right. You’ll typically find me mixing behind the bar with Seokmin, but don’t be mistaken. It is my bar.”
You nodded. “Noted.”
“Rules of the house,” Soonyoung continued, rounding the corner as they reached the seats at the bar. He held up three fingers. “No violence with patrons. No touching from patrons. And absolutely no questions about past lives.”
You began to nod in agreement when the sound of two bodies hitting each other emanated behind them. Your head spun out of instinct, seeing two of your fellow servers – one, a shorter man with reddish-brown hair and an otter-like smile; the other, a big six with hulking shoulders, strong muscles, and perfect features like wavy, black hair and honeyed skin. They greeted each other loudly, their raised voices making you flinch instantly.
Just a sound could take you back to Han. To the nights you heard him getting scrappy with one of his torpedos, right behind the door of your shared bedroom. To the days he yelled at his right-hand man as you prepared coffee in the kitchen, and then his hand gripping your apron as if to anchor himself to you before he clocked his friend in the kisser.
Han had never been violent with you. Never touched a hair on your head. But to be married to a gangster was to see a threat at every turn. How long would it be until one of his enemies got the upper hand?
“You got the heebie-jeebies or something?” Soonyoung asked, and you whipped your head back to him. But he noticed the look in your eyes, how scattered you were, and with a soft smile, he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. I’ll tell Chan and Mingyu to pipe down.”
You schooled your expression – one of the many skills Han had taught you once he revealed his true identity. Your shoulders squared and you cleared your throat. “I know. I’m just … getting used to being the only female server.”
He laughed. “Yeah, Jihoon kind of set you up for failure with that one. Especially in this city.”
You raised a brow.
“Not that I think you’re going to fail. I’m sure you’re swell. It’s just …” He closed his mouth, realizing that he was going on a tangent. “I should let Jeonghan take over.”
Soonyoung yanked over another tall male with dark hair that reached his shoulders, almost making him drop all the glasses on his tray onto the floor. Jeonghan shook his head at the bartender before introducing himself to you. His slender build was similar to Wonwoo’s, but he wasn’t as broad.
Jeonghan brought you over to one of the tables to explain the basics of serving: how to write out your orders, address customers, and when to exactly cut them off. “The hardest part of being a server isn’t even about interaction,” he explained, and then lifted his full tray of empty glasses on his shoulder. “It’s about learning how to balance. Never, ever, break a glass.”
You nodded, jotting down notes in your server book. Guests were beginning to pour in, but Mingyu and Chan took the lead while Jeonghan showed you the ropes. Businessmen strolled through with women that probably weren’t their wives. Even a few flappers made their presence known, requesting Mingyu as their server specifically for one of the ladies in the friend group. You tried to focus over the noise and be present with Jeonghan, but your eyes couldn’t help but drift around the room, until they finally landed at the corner of the bar.
Jihoon leaned against the edge, a lit cigar between his teeth as he spoke to Soonyoung. And it seemed his eyes were drawn to you too, because only a few seconds later, you were the only thing he could focus on.
Sitting on the cold wooden floor of your apartment, back pressed against the side of the twin-sized bed, you dug out a small box from underneath the frame. One of the little things you made sure to pack before leaving, the gift box was old and torn, the vintage paper from when your mom was a child. You placed it in front of your crossed legs, your work heels discarded just a few feet away. The time was nearing 3 AM and you’d just gotten back from the Velvet Ruby, but your hands were itching for this, for the memories.
Lifting the cover off, you smiled at the pile of rectangular photos from years past. You picked up the first one off the top: an overexposed shot of you and your mother from when you were a child. It was the time you were sick, so she dressed you up in the prettiest clothes and had a photoshoot with you, as if you were her little doll. Your big grin, one tooth missing in the front, a red nose from sniffling. It was a good memory – a really, really good memory.
Your hands pilfered through the family photos: the one of you and your grandparents, your first day working for your parents’ laundromat, your 16th birthday party. Each a crucial part of your childhood. Setting the plethora of memories to the side, you picked up a photo that felt like a lifetime ago: you, leaning against a telephone pole outside, wearing your mother’s old wedding dress that came to your ankles because you were much taller than her. The smile on your face was different, and when you flipped to the next shot, you knew why. It was the day you and Han got married at the courthouse. His hands were in yours, his eyes on you, while you were looking at your father’s camera. The court clerk was in the middle of almost dropping his booklet when the image was captured. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. This was when things were good, when Han was just a customer you met at the laundromat.
You flicked through the photos, noticing the way your eyes changed in each one. As if your fear of the unknown and the weight of being your husband’s moll had made you lose your sparkle. Even in the shot from your first anniversary – which you had taken of both of you, sitting on the beach in some warmer state, albeit on a day where you were so happy – there was something in your smile. The first inklings of uncertainty. Because even on this day – one of your favorite days with him – he had gotten a letter with a threat sent to their hotel room near the beach. And it had become clear then that you might have fallen in love with one of the most dangerous men.
One of the last shots at the bottom was a picture he asked your father to take after the wedding. You both stood in the middle of the courthouse, him holding your wrist as you presented your hand out, the ring on your finger glinting in the lens. Standing on both sides of you were men that you deemed as his friends at the time, unaware that they were his associates in the Lucky Ace gang. Now that the dust had settled, you wondered if you had just been blind, because you most certainly remembered one of them having a shiv in his suit to defend Han at a moment’s notice.
But you didn’t think anything of it. You didn’t need to. Because he hadn’t been truthful with you in the first place.
With a heavy exhale, you buried all the photos of Han to the bottom of the box. You couldn’t dwell on the past or else you’d be filled with dread. Reaching into your apron, you pulled out a new addition for your collection: a photo Jihoon had requested to be taken of him all his staff at the Velvet Ruby. This photo spoke of new beginnings, one where you’d stop being afraid of what would happen next. Because you were protected here; everyone promised you that.
In the photo, Soonyoung was standing to Jihoon’s left, one arm around him while holding up his other hand, curled like a cat’s paw. Beside him was Chan and Mingyu, and then Jeonghan with Seungcheol on the corner. On the other side were a few servers you had been introduced to that day – Vernon and Minghao – both sporting the same unamused expression, with the other bartender, Seokmin. You were standing to the right of Jihoon, lips pulled into a soft smile while his arm slipped around your waist, yet hovering. Your heels made you feel like a tower next to him, but he was still the most important, confident man in the room.
When he had given you the photo a few days later, you assumed it was because this was one of the damaged copies. The brightness of the image, the way Mingyu was mid-talking to Chan. But still, you couldn’t help to ask, “Why are you giving me this?”
“I like having pictures. They’re a good memento.” He tapped his finger against the flimsy paper before meeting your gaze. “And I want you to have a good memory. To show you that there will always be a place where you will be safe.”
It took a couple weeks to get into the swing of things, but it felt like you had finally established yourself in a new place. And you did it on your own. You didn’t flinch anymore at sudden footsteps and raised voices, although you did have to tell Mingyu to shut it every once in a while. You slowly got the hang of serving and attending to wealthy patrons, even picked up a few regulars that came by at least once a week. Much to your excitement, they were mostly women – a group of flappers looking to gossip about their dates or dance to whatever live band Jihoon hired that night.
As it turned out, working in such an energetic place was great exposure therapy.
Jihoon checked in on you regularly: before close, when you hung out by yourself at the bar. He’d meet you outside when you had a cigarette on your break. He asked you questions no one else did: Where do you see yourself in 10 years? Is everyone treating you well? Are you happy? Sometimes, he’d walk with you to the bus station, wait beside you until it came, and when you asked him why, he’d be so nonchalant.
“This is on my way home anyway,” he’d say.
And you’d tilt your head. “The bus station?”
“Yes, I live … just over yonder,” he explained with an awkward wave of his hand. “I should get going.”
Your apartment could be scary at times, especially for a woman living on your own. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the day – since you worked long into the early morning hours – hearing your neighbors argue over the price of milk. Insistent door knocking startled you before it became clear that no one was at your door at all; they were downstairs. Every loud noise outside your window sounded like a gunshot at first, until you realized that it wasn’t. It was just the kids on the sidewalk playing with wooden blocks.
But you found solace at the Velvet Ruby – in a routine, in seeing your coworkers. Your friends. They were kind and made you laugh, the happiness returning to your eyes again. With them, you were safe.
Jihoon made you feel safe.
And then, December 1st came.
Soonyoung was keeping you at the bar as he slowly made two Gin Rickeys for one of your tables. The drink was simple – club soda, lime juice, and of course, gin – but he had a better time holding you hostage there with a story from last night, which he told rather exuberantly. “And there I was, wearing my favorite socks – you know, the ones with the tiger pattern?” He asked, giving you no time to nod before he was continuing. “I was cleaning up the bar when Laurie – you know her? One of the hoofers Jihoon hired to come dance every week? Dark hair, big brown eyes. Anyway, she comes up to me –”
You watched him gradually poor the lime juice into both glasses before looking over your shoulder to see your patrons bored of their minds. Not even the pianist on stage could keep their attention.
“– And she wants to see me past work hours. Complimented my socks and everything. Didn’t realize someone had a crush. Isn’t that just the bee’s knees?” He slapped the top of your hand, making you swing back to him. “Are you even listening?”
You blinked. “Oh, um – Laurie’s stuck on you. Anything else?”
Soonyoung glared at you and poured a shot of gin into each glass. “Maybe I should ask her on a date next time I see her. What do you think?”
“Well, do you like her?” Your eyes slid to the right, where Jihoon stood in the corner of the joint. He put a cigar to his lips while Seungcheol whispered something in his ear, and then his gaze was on yours, making the hairs on your arm stand up. For what reason – you had no idea. Yet.
“She’s pretty.”
You flickered back to Soonyoung. “Then you should go on a date with her.” Your hands wrapped around the two Gin Rickeys. “If you’ll excuse me, my table is about to fall asleep if I don’t get these to them.”
You turned, foot coming out to step forward, when two people breezed past you and you almost forgot to breathe. It was a man with a woman on his arm, and his face … it was something out of a nightmare, out of one of the pictures you had looked at weeks ago. But it couldn’t be him. Minho never let his hair grow that long, and he swore he’d never leave Han’s side, not even for a vacation. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.
Minho was one of your husband’s enforcers in Lucky Ace, his right-hand man for all problems. A shield, but also a brother to him if he needed it. Which meant he was a brother to you too – however, you never let him get close enough. You kept Minho at an arm’s length, a hard task given the fact that he was almost always with your husband. Except for right now. If that was him.
Most likely, it wasn’t. But what if it was?
This had to be your anxiety talking and you weren’t going to let it win today. Not after all the progress you made. You avoided the table he sat and thanked your lucky stars that you didn’t have to be their server. Pulling Mingyu away from one of his regulars – a blonde flapper named Kallie, who skirted around the rule of not touching the wait staff with lingering caresses and eyes that spoke trouble – you informed him to not let you near that table under any circumstances. Typically, Mingyu would crack at joke in this moment, but when he saw the serious look in your eyes, he knew this was important.
Keeping your face turned away from his table was harder than you assumed, but when it was finally nearing closing and you were getting back your last check of the night, you thought maybe you survived. Maybe you could sneak a peak now to see if it really was Minho. You just had to swing by the bar and drop off this money –
A warm palm latched around your arm.
Eyes wide, you turned, seeing Minho so plastered that his Old Fashioned was sloshing over the sides of the glass in his hand. You were petrified, body going ice cold. Because it was him – it was fucking Minho. In the flesh. Right before your eyes. His hand feeling like an iron brand on your bicep, as if he could burn through your blouse.
What was he doing here? How did he find you? Did Han set him up to this –
“H-Hey,” he slurred, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. The woman beside him was tugging on his arm and begging to leave. “Don’t I know … know you from sssssomewhere?”
“I – I –” The words were clogging in your throat. You tried to tug your arm free, but he wouldn’t let go. Oh, my god – he wasn’t going to let go. He was going to take you back to Han and the woman with him was just a ploy and – fuckfuckfuck –
“No touching my servers.”
Your arm was yanked free by a strong arm suddenly appearing on your left. Stumbling back, you caught yourself on the edge of a table as you recognized the back of Jihoon’s head. He was smacking away Minho’s hand, roughly grabbing him by the collar before he could even look in your direction again. Soonyoung was at your side instantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and shielding you from the scene.
You heard the scuffle behind you, and you turned your head just enough to see Jihoon bum rushing Minho out of the speakeasy with Seungcheol on his right. They were both yanking on Minho’s flailing arms, ignoring his drunken shouting, while the woman on his arm sprinted after them.
The Velvet Ruby shut its doors for the night and instead of cleaning, Soonyoung insisted that you take a breather. You found his small pantry nestled behind the bar, the entry marked off by just a velvet curtain. This was where he stored all the extra liquor, where bootleggers met Jihoon with their latest shipments. You sat on the steel table by the wall, your legs dangling off the edge, and you took a few deep breaths. Realizing your pantyhose had a few tears in them, you sighed. Sleep was already creeping up on you, but there was still so much left to do. You should offer to mop the floors, clean up behind the stage, and yet …
The curtain swung open, and Jihoon closed it quickly behind him. “Are you doing okay?” He asked while striding up. His tone was detached, but it was his words that spoke to how much he cared.
You didn’t answer, only nodded your head.
“Are you fighting the urge to lie to me again?”
You blinked a few times, his words making a tremor run through you. “I guess I was. Unintentionally, at least.” You looked back down at your legs swinging and gripped the edge of the table. Anywhere but his eyes. Sometimes you wondered if he could see right through you.
A moment of silence passed. Jihoon clicked his tongue. “So did you … know those two people?”
He was trying to pry you open, read through you like the Sunday paper. But you couldn’t let him. The less people who got in your shit, the better. It was for his own good. He was the one who almost didn’t hire you because he was scared of Han in the first place.
“You have to let me in at some point,” he whispered, softer this time. Intimacy laced in his tone and invited you in. He then snickered under his breath. “You got me all balled up over this. I probably just threw out someone who gave me good business –”
“He knows Han,” you confessed. “I don’t know who the woman was.”
Jihoon stuck his hands in the front pockets of his pants. “I see.”
You chewed on your bottom lip. Was the tear in your tights getting bigger or were you finally seeing things? “I didn’t think it was him at first, but … he saw me. What if he goes back and tells Han? What if –”
“He was too tanked to see, and he won’t remember anything now either.”
Slowly, you lifted your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were so dark that you swore you could drown in them. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it, angel.” He loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. Your stare drifted to his forearms, admiring the veins that led up to his knuckles, which you realized were now … red, bruised. Both of his hands were. “Do you trust me?”
His words rang through you, causing your gaze to flicker up to his again. After a moment, you nodded. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.
He stepped closer, the fabric of his expensive pants rubbing against your ruined pantyhose. “I think its best if we establish a plan. If someone asks for you, how should I respond?”
Your hands started to shake, knuckles turning white as you clutched the edge of the table. Looking to your feet, you realized how little you thought this through. Your plan had cracks. You hoped it wouldn’t get to a point where you had to worry about this happening. “I … I don’t know. Say you don’t know me. Say …”
He placed a reassuring hand on top of yours. Your eyes slowly slid to the right, realizing that his hands were bigger than you assumed, prominent veins and scars etched into his skin. His palm was warm, and one of your fingers couldn’t help but twitch.
He squeezed your hand. You squeezed back.
“A cup of Joe or tea?”
Your head swung up. He was that much closer, his hand not leaving yours. Cocking your head to the side, you answered, “Tea. Why?”
A smile flashed on his plump lips. “I figured that was easier than the hard stuff. Morning person or night owl?”
“I used to be a morning person.” Your lips pursed as his gaze burned into yours. “But these days, I think I prefer the night.”
You noticed the way he swallowed, and for a moment, you thought he shivered. But he let go of your hand before you could feel it.
“Are you comfortable here?” His voice was so smooth, like dark chocolate melting in your mouth. After a beat, he added, “With me?”
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment, and you notice Jihoon’s eyes move down, ogling you like a painting. Finally, you uttered, “Yes.”
“Good.”
He was in your space now, so close you could inhale his cologne that he probably bought from Lord & Taylor. Or maybe he had it custom. He smelled like firewood and something so inherently masculine, stabling you. A hint of cigar smoke lingered on his collar. He placed his palms on the steel table, thumbs just barely brushing against your hips, as he leaned into you, meeting you at your eye level.
“Tell me,” he continued, “is it worse to be trapped by someone who has feelings for you, or hunted by someone who doesn’t?”
You arched a brow. “We’re back to the hard ones now.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
“I think …” Pausing, you debated your answer, even though you knew it instantly. Maybe you wanted to make him sweat a little. “I would rather be trapped. Better to be trapped and unharmed than hunted.”
Jihoon’s tongue darted out from the corner of his mouth, slowly dragging over his bottom lip. Your answer obviously unfurled him, making his body tense as he stood there and questioned his next move. Your stares connected, but both of you were completely frozen. “You know you can leave at any time, yes?”
You nodded. “I know.”
Time stilled, the small pantry seemingly warmer than usual as Jihoon inched forward. You were white knuckling the table again, but you weren’t moving away. Because maybe … just maybe, you wanted Jihoon to kiss you. And would that be so bad? To have just a modicum of happiness, only for a moment, with his lips agains yours? Or maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should lean back and say, “Bank’s closed,” like your friends used to in your single days.
But that was like torture. Moving away from him felt like a curse.
Just as you leaned in, he cleared his throat, stepping back. Both realizing just what you were about to do, your bodies went rigid again. Your cheeks flushed bright red while he rubbed a finger over his top lip. He had never shied away from eye contact with you, but now … he was avoiding you like a disease.
“Let me go get your coat,” he said, already heading for the curtain. “You don’t have to stick around to clean tonight.”
You opened your mouth, wanting to say anything. Even if it was the first thought that came to your head. But Jihoon had already vanished, the curtain swinging in his wake.
December came and went. The winter months were slowing blurring into each other. You were looking forward to the warm comfort of your bed after a long night at the Velvet Ruby. Once the doors had closed, you had to clean up the huge puddle of a spilt beer pitcher by a clumsy patron and his wife. Your knees burned and there were blisters on your feet; you just wanted to be curled up under your blankets before drifting off to sleep. Dragging yourself up the stairs to your apartment, hearing your neighbors arguing at 2 o’clock in the morning, you groaned and stuck your key in the lock.
But your door wouldn’t budge. The lock had been changed.
You looked up, seeing a folded up paper with a coffee stain on the corner. Once you opened the note, you read the words, RENT LATE. PAY OR MOVE OUT, in your landlord’s messy handwriting. A heavy exhale filtered through your lips as you pressed your back against the door, sliding down to the carpet. The same carpet that probably had bugs in it, but you were so tired right now that you didn’t care. Your head fell into your hands as your lack of sleep took over. You didn’t want to doze off out here – absolutely not – but your landlord was surely asleep right now and you wouldn’t be able to pay him until morning.
There was only one option for you.
Using the only change in your pocket, you hauled a taxi and gave the driver instructions to the place you knew best. The taxi pulled up the double doors of the Hotel Ruby, the blinking red sign out front casting a glow on the cab’s interior. You handed the driver your change before stepping out, quickly rushing in to escape the falling snow and giving the doorman, Joshua, a kind smile. He looked confused to see you back, but didn’t question much these days.
You expected to see Wonwoo lounging behind the front desk as usual, but you froze when you realized Jihoon was organizing the mess his regular employee always left there. Jihoon didn’t work here often; he typically stayed in his office or slept in his bedroom connected to it. His mind must be running. What other reason would someone be organizing this late?
Sensing your presence by the door, he finally looked up. A smile curled at his lips, and then fell, realizing that there probably wasn’t a good reason for you to be here after your shift. He said your name, so soft, and then asked, “What’s eating you? I thought you left for the bus an hour ago.”
“I did,” you replied, shaking the snow off your hair. “But I …” You wrung your hands out in front of you. “I must’ve forgot to pay my rent this month, so my landlord changed the locks. Obviously, I can’t reach him until he wakes up, so I was hoping … I could stay in a room tonight.”
Jihoon blinked, studying the red blush on your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was from the cold or your own nerves.
“I could pay, if you need me to. Or you could take it out of my paycheck. That would be easier. Used my last clam for a taxi here.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I realize that this might be unethical –”
“It is entirely unethical,” Jihoon finished with a straight face. And then, he smiled again, smoothing back a stray hair that had slipped from his slicked back strands. The bags under his eyes became more prominent. “I don’t usually let employees stay. If I let one, then everybody’s got a chance.”
This was mortifying. You felt like cowering in on yourself, sticking your hands in your pockets and pretending you were never here. “I understand.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he chuckled low, stretching out his arms over the edge of the front desk. His sleeves were rolled up, despite the chill from the door, the veins that ran from his wrists protruding and making you even more flushed. “I can make an exception for you, angel. As long as you keep my secrets.”
You were glowing now, a huge grin on your face. “Your secrets are always safe with me.”
“I know they are,” he snickered, and then called over one of the bellhops bringing a cart to the lobby. “Jun, can you bring her to any of the available rooms for tonight? Any floor. I don’t care. Use the universal key.”
Jun nodded, leading you to the elevator just off from the lobby. You looked over your shoulder, giving Jihoon a soft smile and a wave, before catching up to Jun. Jihoon simply watched you go, but you managed to catch his front teeth bite into his lip as you rounded the corner, and a familiar warmth pooled in your stomach.
Opening the lattice metal door, Jun escorted you inside the intricate elevator and told the lift boy, Seungkwan, to take you both to the second floor. “Nobody typically stays on that floor,” Jun said to you, filling the awkward silence. “Maybe it’s because the rooms are a little more drab. Not sure. But they’ll definitely be one available.”
The elevator stopped on the second floor and Seungkwan pulled the door open, tipping his hat as you left. You couldn’t help but ogle him, because he had the kind of look in his eyes that said, I know things you don’t. You couldn’t imagine the type of things he saw on a daily basis, the type of people he caught switching floors.
Jun twirled the shiny golden key in his hand, which you guessed opened every door in this hotel. The power he felt like he held right now was immense. He whistled under his breath, swinging his finger left and then right, as he decided which room to choose. Finally, he stopped by room 214, at the far end of the hall.
“Good with you?” Jun asked, peering over his shoulder.
You nodded. “As long as the heat works.”
His laugh was so low you almost didn’t hear it. As he fumbled with the key, you looked to the right and squinted, wondering if you were seeing things correctly. There was a room at the end of a corridor. Marked as room 217. It looked almost out of place, like a mirage. Why would the second floor end on an odd number for rooms? It just didn’t seem right.
When he finally stuck the key in the lock, you asked, “Does this floor really end on an odd number?” You pointed to the right.
Jun followed your finger. “You mean 217? Yeah, only floor that does, I believe.”
You were still perplexed. Was he incapable of offering any more information, or was it just you who thought this was strange? “Must be the biggest room on this floor,” you continued as he turned the key, “because its in the corner. Right?”
Jun shrugged, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. A blast of warm air hit your cheeks as he turned to face you. “I wouldn’t know. No one is allowed in there.”
Your brow knitted together, but he was still holding open the door, looking at you as if you were the bird in this situation. Why was no one allowed in that room? Was it never available for people to stay in? You walked forward, into the room, and shed off your coat. When you spun back to view at Jun, you opened your mouth to ask him another question, but he interrupted you.
“Can you butt me, doll?” He held out his hand. “I ran out of cigarettes.”
Your face fell. With a glare, you shut the door in his face.
Your bag accidentally whacked a shoulder on your way inside the hotel, and you looked to your left to apologize. Recognizing the photographer that had taken the pictures of the speakeasy staff nearly a month ago, you waved and blurted a couple thousand sorry’s before heading to the secret entrance for the speakeasy. You had noticed that photographer lingering around the hotel for weeks, but no one seemed to question it so you wondered if maybe you were the odd one out. Eventually, you brought it up to Joshua, since he saw most of the comings and goings of the hotel.
“Oh, him?” Joshua rubbed the back of neck. “Think Jihoon told me that he’s here to take photos of the hotel for advertisements.”
There was a hint of a question in Joshua’s tone, telling you that even he didn’t understand the reason for the photographer. He was just always around. Sometimes when you looked a certain way, he was right there, loitering in the lobby with his camera glued to his hands.
Maybe you were seeing things. Maybe he wasn’t here as often as you thought. You were having trouble falling asleep these days.
When you closed your eyes, sometimes you thought about room 217. It still baffled you; its presence haunting your mind like a ghost. A couple times, you took the elevator up to the second floor just to go see it, the secret of your visits staying between you and Seungkwan. You tried the knob once, and when it wouldn’t budge, you jumped back as if it burned you. This was crazy – you were crazy. Sleep deprived even. You should not care so much about this, but nearly a week after the late rent incident – which you did make up for, thankfully – you found yourself thinking about this room over and over again.
Nobody typically stays on that floor. No one is allowed in there.
Jun was going to be as helpful as a chocolate teapot, and you assumed that most people didn’t know or care much about a locked room anyway. You could ask Jihoon, but … something told you that you might not get the answers you wanted. And maybe what you actually needed to know was more about the elusive hotel owner first. Perhaps that could crack the secrets of 217, and truthfully … you were still a little embarrassed after your almost kiss to be alone with him again.
So you went to Soonyoung.
As the staff was preparing for the Saturday night rush, you dropped off your coat at your locker before stalking up to your favorite bartender. He was drying off glasses, fresh from a wash, and you noticed that he had smudged some black eyeliner on his waterline. Conveniently, Laurie was dancing tonight. It didn’t take an idiot to put two and two together.
“Level with me,” you said to him, lacing your hands on the edge of the bar.
Soonyoung glanced up with a wide grin. “Okay, big shot. What do you need from me?”
You had him right where you wanted him. Soonyoung was always willing to gossip.
“I have some questions about Jihoon,” you proposed, “but I’m just too scared to ask him. I know he’s busy and I don’t want him to have to recall any bad memories. I’m just … curious.”
“Well, now you got me curious. Shoot.”
You started off easy, asking him how the Hotel Ruby came to be. Soonyoung explained that Jihoon had inherited it by his great grandfather on his mom’s side that he almost never spoke to. Nobody ever understood why he had been written down in the will. Jihoon once thought that maybe his grandfather’s handwriting had been so bad that they just assumed the name was his. But he had been grateful, because inheriting this hotel had pulled him out of a series of bad events.
“After he modernized the hotel, he realized no one was coming to stay because of all that stock market bull, which was when he approached me about running the Velvet Ruby together,” he went on. “I was his first friend in the city, so it only made sense for us to become business partners. It’s proven to be his most successful venture, but I supposed anything is better than what he ran away from years ago.”
You raised a brow. “And what was that exactly?”
Soonyoung scratched the side of his head. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you everything …”
“Who am I going to tell? I only talk to you.”
He set down one of the dry glasses. “You make a great point.” He exhaled heavily, wrinkling his small nose, before continuing, “He was born into the Lucky Ace gang. His father was some big leader in it. I’m sure he’s mentioned this in passing, right?”
It all made sense now. Upon your first meeting, Jihoon had known your husband, even mentioned growing up with him. But you didn’t expect this: that he had once been part of the gang that you had somehow married yourself into. Just like his mother.
You schooled your expression and played along, hoping to get more out of Soonyoung. “I believe I heard it once. So he ran away from the Lucky Aces?”
Nodding, Soonyoung replied, “He only told me about it once, so I could be misremembering. He had some huge brawl with his father after his mother’s funeral, and then he stole his father’s car, drove it to the bus station, and got a one way ticket for the city. His father had sent for him, tried to get him to come back, but eventually stopped trying because he wanted his son to suffer on his own. Jihoon had been determined to never set foot near the Lucky Aces again, even put himself through poverty and lived on the street. Until he came into his great grandfather’s wealth. Guess he kept the luck from the Lucky Aces after all.”
“Has he ever talked to you about Cheon Han?”
He set a couple clean glasses on the racks behind him, thinking, and then shook his head. “Not really. Heard the name pop up once or twice. Said he was a good friend from home, but obviously not anymore. In fact, he actually mentioned that name again recently. I overheard Jihoon say it to Seungcheol and gave his description, told him to never let him in the bar under any circumstances.” His eyes slid to yours. “How do you know that name?”
You blinked, trying to keep your composure. “I thought we agreed on absolutely no questions about past lives.”
Soonyoung’s lips slowly curled into a cat-like smile. “Oh, horsefeathers! Look at you. Making me remember my own rules.”
You shrugged nonchalantly at his compliment, even though your brain was screaming at the new information you just received. Jihoon had known Han. Jihoon had been involved with the Lucky Ace gang. He probably still had low-risk friends in the gang, which was why one of Han’s friends was one of his bootlegger’s. This was almost unbelievable. You were more connected to him than you ever imagined.
“Do you …” Using the tip of your finger, you traced senseless circles onto the dark wood of the bar. “Do you know anything about room 217?”
He didn’t answer. Your eyes flickered back up and you realized his body was frozen, his gaze locked on the glass he’d been drying for longer than usual. After what felt like several minutes, his stare met yours. “You know about room 217?”
“Well … not exactly.” You were playing with your hands now, the nerves slowly creeping in. It was important that you stayed impassive during this conversation, but your true colors were starting to show. “I just … I just saw it when I had to stay the night here last week. That’s all.”
“You’ve never been inside it?”
You shook your head.
“Oh.” His shoulders immediately relaxed, and he turned his back to you while putting away more glasses. He made sure he wasn’t looking at you as he said, “I don’t know anything about it.”
Your brow raised. “Really?”
“I know what everyone else does: Jihoon doesn’t let anyone stay in that room.” He spun back again, his shrug the picture of disinterest. “Maybe it’s haunted.”
After that unproductive conversation with Soonyoung, you decided that it was probably best to give up on finding out the secrets of the mysterious room. Clearly, no one had an inkling of knowledge about it, and the ones that did weren’t going to budge so easily. You knew it wasn’t the truth, but maybe it was just haunted. Every old hotel had one.
If you looked into it more, you would find out things that might hurt you. Things that might ruin the picture perfect image you had of everyone in this hotel. The place that had become your safe space.
So you gave up. For now.
February was treating you nicely. Jihoon had added an extra nickel to your weekly paycheck and put more tables in the speakeasy to accommodate the growing crowd on weekends. This Saturday was no less busy than the last, especially with Laurie’s growing fame. She was even looking into managers now to try to further her career, past the small stage of the Velvet Ruby, but she never forgot about Soonyoung. He still met her behind the curtain during her intermissions, doing who knows what. You were grateful to not know.
The joint was filled with male patrons tonight and the usual flapper group in the corner. Dollar bills were thrown on stage, and there was a particular table near the back that was especially rowdy, engaging in a loud bull session with each other over the music. This was your worst nightmare, so when you asked Mingyu to cover for you while you went on a smoke break, he agreed without question. If anyone could handle a table like that, it was him.
Some would say it was idiotic to make your way outside for a cigarette, especially in this weather, but it was a habit that you weren’t keen on breaking just yet. Slipping past Seungcheol and heading for the main lobby of the hotel, you pulled your cigarettes out of your apron, stuck one between your lips, and adjusted the tie in the back. Shouting emerged the closer you got to the lobby, making your brow crease. It was only when you reached the threshold that it all became clear.
The unlit cigarette dropped from your mouth.
Cheon Han was being held back by two of his friends – not Minho; you didn’t recognize these ones – while trying to swipe a knife in Jihoon’s face. Must’ve been a shiv he borrowed from one of his associates. Jihoon’s arm was out to shield his face, while Wonwoo was at his side to bite the bullet, if it came to that. Jun was on Jihoon’s right, looking utterly clueless and downright terrified, with his bellhop hat crooked and his fists in the air. As if that was going to do anything.
“Han.” The name slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.
Your husband’s face whipped to yours immediately. His eyes were bloodshot and his body froze. Even his associates recognized you, but they looked like strangers in your wide-eyed gaze. A few long strands of hair escape from his signature slicked hairstyle, falling onto his distressed forehead. His nose scrunched as he took in your appearance. A uniform. A server. You worked here.
The knife dropped from his hand and clattered onto the floor.
But he was furious. His eyes blazed with a fiery intensity as he shouted, “Did you think I wouldn’t know where to look?! I have friends everywhere. You really thought you could run away from our marriage and I wouldn’t find you? You slay me. Really, that’s funny, doll.”
Your hands balled into fists. Han was seething with rage, while Jihoon was staring at you, not sure what to do. “Our marriage was built on a lie!” You exclaimed. “You know it was. You never told me – not once – until after we were married about what you were. What I would be putting at risk by being married to you – my life, my family. I didn’t want to be some moll, Han!”
“Oh, this is such bull.” He let out a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. His associates slowly let go of him and pocketed the shiv. Han looked back at you, and before you could blink, he was advancing. “Come on now, doll. Let’s stop playing around and go home.”
He was within a foot of you when Jihoon blocked his path, using himself as a human shield. Wonwoo and Jun watched with hesitation, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Jihoon stood tall, even if he was shorter than you than usual when you were in these heels. He was broad and his muscles bulged from the rolled up sleeves of his black dress shirt. His brows were narrowed as he said, voice low and menacing, “She’s not going anywhere with you. Beat it, Cheon.”
Han’s teeth gritted, his whole body shaking from the rage flooding through him. The same rage he showed his soldiers when they fell out of line. And he was leveling it towards Jihoon. “She’s mine,” he growled.
Your husband had never been violent with you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t possessive.
“Not anymore,” Jihoon replied. His tone was surprisingly calm despite the situation.
“Han,” you called, letting your voice take on the velvety tone you used to have with him. His eyes went yours instantly, softening slightly with recollection, before he remembered how pissed off he was that you ran away and some pill was standing between him and his girl. You licked your lips and said, “You should leave. I’m not going home with you. This marriage is over.”
Jihoon snickered. “You heard her.”
His brow knitted together in frustration. “We’ll see about that.” Nodding to his associates, he turned on the heel of his boot and muttered. “Let’s go. We’ll be back around.” Han’s glare met yours. “I’m not leaving without my wife.”
Once the lobby was clear, Jun ran to tell Joshua to not let those men anywhere near the doors of the hotel again. They locked it from the inside, making sure to only allow in current guests and speakeasy customers leaving the building. Wonwoo headed to the front desk, phoning for the police immediately. (Specifically, the only officer they trusted who didn’t rat Jihoon out over the speakeasy.) Lucky for him, he hired good people who took care of the hard stuff without him asking.
He turned to you behind him, seeing your body start to crumble with the awareness of what just transpired. Hooking his arms through yours, he cooed, “Angel, no. It’s going to be okay. I promise. Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”
As the sobs began to rack through you, Jihoon used his strength to help guide you out of the lobby. He motioned for Wonwoo to take care of talking to the investigator, hoping that with a thorough description, they would be able to do something. Anything. But he stopped trusting those bulls a long time ago.
He led you to the laundry room just off from the lobby. He gestured for the two maids occupying the space to leave, and they followed his orders with a bow of their heads. Letting go of you, he allowed your back to slide against the wall until you were sitting on the cold stone floor. He sighed before taking the spot next to you.
You rubbed at your eyes and sniffled. “I knew this would happen.”
“It couldn’t have been that drunk fool that told him.”
You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s here. He found me. Right when I started to feel safe.”
“Angel,” his voice was so gentle when your nickname rolled off his tongue. His fingers were on your chin, turning your tear-streaked face to his. “You are safe here. I’m not going to let him take you.”
“I know I said before that I would make sure I suffer the consequences if you got found with me,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes again, “but now I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to leave. And what if he kills you?”
Jihoon smirked. “One of his torpedos will do it for him, remember?”
A chuckle emerged under your breath, recalling the words you said to him months ago. You shook your head looked down to his lap, where his free hand was twitching, as if he was fighting himself not to touch you.
Lifting your eyes to his again, you felt his thumb swipe under them, catching the tears. “Jihoon, why do you care so much about protecting me?”
“Because,” he whispered, and then stopped himself. He bit his lip, unable to come up with anything that didn’t sound like a lie. “Because I …” His hand fell from your face.
So you grabbed it, placing your palm on top of his. His hand was warm and soft, despite the callouses that were constantly on his knuckles. “You don’t need to explain yourself,” you murmured. “I overstepped.”
“No, no, you didn’t. I …” He exhaled, annoyed more with himself than anything. Running a nervous hand through his dark hair, his gaze lifted to yours. You were sure that he had galaxies in his eyes. “Your marriage with Han … it was always a lie?”
You paused, chewing on your lip. Your hand on his was like an anchor, wondering how much you wanted to reveal. But if you had gotten this far, trusted him this much … maybe it was worth finally divulging.
“It started in a place like this.” Your fingers slipped from his, gesturing to the electric washers and washboards littered throughout the small room. “I worked at my family’s laundromat since I was 8. My whole life had always been school, then work. And when school was finally over, my life had become just … work. Washing and drying. Tending to the wealthy’s clothes and praying I didn’t ruin them. My fingers permanently pruned. But I digress.” You huffed longingly. “Han had come in one day to get a mark out of his suit. He was the berries, looking like he worked on Wall Street or something. I remember making sure I really got that stain out, and he was so kind when I gave it back. He proceeded to come back everyday, sometimes asking to wash a garment regardless if it was dirty or not.”
You shrugged and added, “I didn’t even realize he was carrying a torch for me until he asked me to dinner. I said, ‘Yes,’ because, well … who wouldn’t? He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.” Your eyes casted down, fingers picking at the widening hole in your pantyhose. “We went on a solid five dates before he asked for my hand. It was all very fast, and I told him I had to think about it because I didn’t know him. I wanted to say no, see if he wanted to continue to date, but … my family. They encouraged me to agree. We needed the money and Han would provide whatever we wanted. It just made sense.
“So, I said, ‘Yes,’ again to Han. After the wedding was when I found out.” You thought back to those photos at the courthouse, how you’d been standing so close to all his right-hand men. “All those boys that I thought were his friends … days later, I learned they were his associates and soldiers. He didn’t tell me anything until after the ring was on my finger, said he was scared I would judge him or say, ‘No.’ Said he loved me and didn’t want us to change. And I believed it wouldn’t … for a while. But when your life starts to get threaten, you begin to realize just what you got yourself into.”
You turned your head, your haunted stare meeting his, and you realized just how close Jihoon was. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
“And do you still?” He asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Love him, I mean.”
You curled your legs to your chest, smoothing your skirt over your knees and playing with the hem. Eventually, you replied, “I love the memories.”
A beat passed, and then his palm slid on top of yours on your knee. His hands were partly cold, but you didn’t have it in you to move away. Not now. Not ever. You watched as his fingers squeezed yours, thumb running over your knuckles.
“I’m going to secure the perimeter of the hotel,” he promised, “and you can stay here until you feel safe.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me charity –”
“Angel,” he chastised with a shake of his head, “it’s not charity. I’ve never been that altruistic.”
He gave your hand one last squeeze, leaning in just enough for you to think something might happen, but he was getting to his feet. His shiny Oxfords were such a contrast against the speckled stone floor. When you lifted your head, you found him lingering by the doorway. With a lazy smile, he muttered, “Sometimes love is enough.”
You blinked at him, wondering if you heard him correctly. Maybe you were overthinking, because Lee Jihoon couldn’t have meant what you thought he just did. He barely knew you. He barely touched you.
But he had always stayed. He had always listened. And that could be enough.
He stepped forward to leave the laundry room, but then looked back, pointing a finger at you. “When you’re ready, let me know when you need me to contact my lawyer. I can help pay for your divorce.”
Ignoring Han’s phone calls to the front desk got easier with time. Especially when Jihoon sent a group of his old friends to drive him out of the city for the time being. Wonwoo had told you about the first few calls when you started staying at the hotel, and only stopped after Jihoon requested he only tell upper management about Han’s persistence. Your husband couldn’t even step near the property without the new body guards knowing. You wouldn’t have even found out about the party Jihoon sent after Han if you hadn’t overheard his private conversation with Wonwoo, when he described the money it took to haggle a group of hard boilers to chase down a well-known gangster.
His methods should scare you. His connections to the Lucky Aces should have you fleeing. But he was the only person, in such a long time, to make you feel secure. He was going to protect you, even if it cost him his life.
You didn’t understand him. And maybe it was better that you didn’t.
Jihoon helped obtain a private divorce lawyer through means you didn’t bother questioning. The kind of lawyer you would never be able to afford if he wasn’t paying, far from society’s prying eyes. It wasn’t like you were much of a big deal, but a divorce between any gangster and his wife was front page news. Society would rip you to shreds, demanding you provide proof of desertion or adultery. You wanted to avoid that at any cost. His lawyer was able to start the process of separation almost immediately, involving you at every step.
After cutting your lease at the apartment, which Jihoon happily stepped in to help, you moved all of your belongings into a room at the hotel. You wondered if you’d be put in another room on the second floor, but much to your surprise, Jihoon put you in a free room on the first floor. Close to his quarters and the manager’s office.
“I want to be close in case you need me,” he said, opening the door to room 101. “Please, don’t hesitate to call for me.”
You had looked back at him in that moment, setting your only two bags near the bed. The words that came out of his mouth were nonchalant, but you could see in his eyes what he really wanted to say: Please, need me.
Oh, how you wished he understood how much you did.
Using the phone in your room, you finally called your family again to tell them the news. Your mother had sounded relieved that you were even alive: “I had been holding out hope. I was so scared. I thought you might’ve run off with some drugstore cowboy!” But when you revealed that you were separating from Han, you had to pull the phone away from your ear just to drown out the sound of your mother’s screaming: “Excuse me?! How much have you had to drink right now? I bet everyone at this speakeasy you work at is just handing you hooch all the time. That’s the only reason why you would be spouting such nonsense. Han is a good man. Why would you even think about doing this?!”
You knew she didn’t mean it. Han had fooled everyone; you almost didn’t believe it when he told you his real profession after the wedding. And truthfully, your parents relied on him when times got tough. Han was constantly sending them money if they needed it; that was one of the many reasons they convinced you to marry him in the first place. Your family wasn’t well off. They needed him.
So you had to make her understand.
After finally coming clean to her about your husband’s crime-related activities, she had finally calmed down, started speaking in a tone where you didn’thave to have the phone so far from your actual ear. She became more concerned about the social implications of separating from such a well-known man, but you convinced your mother that you knew what you were doing. Even if you didn’t believe it yourself. Even if this process was scaring you half to death. And she trusted you.
For the first time ever, your mother trusted you.
The dust was finally starting to settle. You had been living at the Hotel Ruby for two weeks and honestly, your body had never been more relaxed. The phone calls to the front desk had stopped. Your lawyer was handling everything behind the scenes. And you were safe.
You found yourself spending more time with Jihoon than you expected. Long nights after the juice joint closed, the staff cleaning around you, and the two of you found yourself sitting at one of the tables and sharing stories from years past. You both preferred to share a cigarette because it felt less detrimental than smoking two individually. It felt intimate, almost like a kiss. A not-kiss, that maybe you desperately wanted to have. Maybe he did too.
Going in for your shifts became so much easier now that you didn’t have to rely on the bus or a taxi to get you there. You simply had to get dressed and head down the hallway that led to speakeasy. Seungcheol was especially chipper today, already having the door open for you as your new kitten heels clicked down the corridor. Jihoon had bought them for you in his favorite color: a deep burgundy.
Slipping into the backroom, you said hello to Minghao before opening your locker to grab your apron you left there overnight. Pulling out the discarded heap of fabric, you paused when you heard a thunk, noticing a folded up piece of paper fall onto the bottom of your locker. Your brow furrowed and you looked around, but you were still alone. When you picked up the note, you realized it had weight to it.
You bit into your lip, hesitating, and then opened up the paper. The first thing you saw was a small, gold key with the numbers 217 slightly embossed on the top. Your eyes widened. This looked like a copied key, and it wasn’t the first time you saw one of these. Han used to have a special person he went to for copied keys. The molding of the numbers was a crucial giveaway. When your gaze finally shifted to the note, you froze, reading over the words as you felt your throat close up.
Only visit when the clock strikes 1 PM, it read. Good luck.
You threw the note back into your locker as if it burned you. Someone was trying to set you up. You couldn’t have this in your possession. Maybe you could throw it in the fireplace tonight, watch the metal of the key slowly melt into charred wood and ash.
The possibilities ran through your head all night, but it was all cheap talk. Because that key stayed in your locker for another week before your curiosity got the better of you.
It was 1 PM on a Thursday and Seungkwan was giving you a look as he pressed the button for the second floor that made your whole body shake. Like he knew what you were doing. Like he’d been waiting. But neither of you said a word, just simply rode the elevator in silence. As you left the metal cage, he tipped his hat towards you and left you alone in the barren hallway of floor 2. You swallowed hard, and then turned on your heel to see room 217 at the end.
You didn’t know how much time had passed. You wondered if you blacked out. Because you were suddenly standing in front of the door in question, the copied key trembling in your hand. Why were you so nervous? You had no idea what was behind this door. Maybe it was excitement, the knowledge of finally seeing what had plagued you for weeks. To be in the know. Once you saw this, you could be on your way and never have to think about why everyone acted so strange about this abandoned room in the first place.
Twisting the key in the lock, you let the door slowly open and reveal the room. It looked like every other room, almost identical to the one you stayed in, so you stepped further inside. Your tread was silent, and you walked forward like you were waiting for someone to scare you. But the room was … the same. Nothing too out of the ordinary, besides the paintings hung up on the walls. These ones looked old and expensive. Worth a lot more than what this room costed. Your hands finally unclenched, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. All that curiosity amounted to … nothing. But it did make you wonder why everyone spoke so oddly about this room in the first place.
And then you turned.
On the wall, directly facing the bed, was a gallery of photos. Each taken from different angles, days, situations. Some featured a smile, some had a cigarette dangling from lips. Eyes met the lens in a few. Some even included other employees of the hotel and speakeasy staff. But there was one similarity between all of them, and that was that they were all taken without any knowledge.
Oh, and they were all of you.
You stumbled, not sure what to make of this. Every photo was of you. This was a collage of your face. You took another step back, landing on the edge of the bed. Your hand came up to your mouth as you ogled the assortment of photos, until you almost couldn’t look anymore and peered at the room around you.
There were stains of self pleasure on the sheets.
Cigarette ashes piled in the litter of trays on every surface.
You gasped, standing up immediately as you took in the horror. But amongst the perverse, the deviancy, there was a sort of … softness here. There were fresh red roses on the bedside table. You recognized the paintings from the renaissance era, suggesting a fondness. And when you approached the desk by the window … there was a note, ink stains embedded into the thin paper. A box with a pearl necklace sat on the edge, and the note was addressed to you from Jihoon, explaining why he wanted to gift the necklace to you. He wrote as if he were devoted, as if he were in love, and simply didn’t understand how to express it.
This was Jihoon’s room. This was all his doing. That’s why no one was allowed in here, because they’d see … who he really was.
Turning to face the photo wall again, you suddenly realized that you didn’t know how to feel. Your emotions were torn in two different directions. For so long, you’d been devalued, treated as an accessory. Nothing but the doting wife to a notorious gangster, just shy on the totem pole to be important enough to receive threats to your life. Han loved you, but not like this. You walked forward, scanning the multitude of pictures, noticing the little moments he captured of you, and your heart … clenched. Like someone with an iron grip was holding it and wouldn’t let go.
He noticed you. You didn’t ask for it, but he chose you anyway.
You should be terrified. You should be running away screaming. This shouldn’t make your eyes soften or make you wonder if it was possible to stay here forever, with him. But you couldn’t help yourself when you reached out, fingers brushing the corner of a zoomed-in photo of yourself, your eyes fixed on the lens without even knowing it. You were smiling, the corners of your lips almost reaching your ears, as snow fell around your head like a crown. Your mouth trembled and your heart sped up because … you mattered to him.
But you shouldn’t be here. You knew you shouldn’t. Everything about this was wrong – from the collage wall to intruding on his private domain. This wasn’t meant for you to know, for anyone to know. And when you were sure you heard the elevator ding outside the room, you bolted, unaware that you knocked down a small frame of Jihoon and his mother on a small table near the door.
There was a maid’s closet right near room 214. You sprinted out of 217, whipping your entire body into the closet as you heard the metal doors of the elevator open at the end of the hall. Pushing yourself deeper into the small room, crowding against the mops and brooms and various cleaning products, you stilled your breath. Footsteps echoed, highlighted underneath the crack in the door, and you gripped a hand over your mouth. They stopped at the other corner of the corridor – near 217 – and it was only when you knew the door had opened and closed did you finally allow yourself to breathe.
The Velvet Ruby had never been more lively on a Thursday night, and you found yourself struggling to keep up. Everywhere you looked, it seemed that each of your customers wanted another drink, as if they were guzzling them. Sweat beaded your hairline each time you bumped into one of your coworkers, your mind somewhere else, thinking of the photos and pearl necklaces and ashtrays –
You collided into Mingyu’s shoulder, breaking you out of your thoughts. He apologized and brushed past you, allowing you a moment to still yourself amongst the chaos. You breathed out, closed your eyes, and gripped the edge of your tray. Everything was going to be okay. The day would end and you could go to bed soon enough. You would survive, because you had to. Because you were still safe. Maybe you’d even forget about the photos, the note.
Or maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d let it consume you whole.
You finally opened your eyes, head turned slightly when you felt a gaze burning into your cheek. Even in the darkness, even amongst the crowd of drunken patrons and servers who jostled around you … you could find him. And he was watching you from the corner of the room, bringing a cigar to his lips, exhaling the smoke that filtered around his dark eyes. He didn’t approach. He didn’t nod. Jihoon simply watched, his stare never leaving yours.
Everything stopped. Your heart paused.
And it was then, that you wondered if he knew what you’d done.
Of course, he knew.
Infatuation was like a disease, spreading to every sap like it was going out of style. Jihoon had known infatuation, but he had never known it like this. He needed to restrain himself. He was a well-heeled man. Being a well-heeled man meant that he was a put-together, sharply dressed, impressive. The kind of man who knew how to act in public and paid attention to his employees, who smoked cigars but helped his patrons at a moment’s notice. The kind of man who secretly enjoyed cheap alcohol and taking a date home to bend her over before having his way with her. But it didn’t matter. It never got out, because he was a well-heeled man. Handsome and level-headed. He never got angry, never punched his employee’s husband so hard that his knuckles scarred, never thought about each way he could claim a married woman in just about every corner of his hotel. He was, as always, a well-heeled man.
But that was all a lie, wasn’t it? A character he fought with in his head. Because well-heeled men didn’t really exist. A well-heeled man didn’t take in women like you, someone married to a gangster he ran away from. A well-heeled man didn’t have the thoughts he had about you. A well-heeled man didn’t pour every ounce of his dough into getting his lawyer to take your divorce case. A well-heeled man didn’t have a secret room where he masturbated to a collage of your pictures on the wall.
The room didn’t start this way. It was just supposed to be a place for him to unwind. That’s why he hung up his favorite paintings – Sandro Botticelli’s Primavera, Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Portrait – and always had fresh flowers by the bed. It was a room away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel, the speakeasy. Everyone. Where he could decompress and smoke his cigars in peace.
And then, he hung up one picture of you. It was the staff photo, but he folded it up until it was just you, overexposed and smiling at the camera. You looked so beautiful, tall, nothing like the woman who walked through the doors of the hotel. You blossomed under him like a flower in spring-time.
He had more pictures taken of you. He couldn’t help himself, and he simply loved photography. You were his muse when he wasn’t even behind the camera. He hung up another photo. And another. And another. Until the whole wall was covered in you. And he was still calm – calmer than ever before. He had to be. Jihoon let himself fall back onto the bed, looking up at the wall of you, his gaze reveling in your smile, your eyes, you.
You were an imprint on his mind. An itch he couldn’t scratch. His angel. And it was then that he realized he simply couldn’t be calm anymore. Especially not when his hand started to drift towards his waistband, cigarette hanging from his lips as he unbuckled his belt. He was reaching into his pants and finding himself hard and – god, you created a monster out of him.
He wasn’t a fool. Of course, he felt perverse, shameful. But you had made him weak and he simply couldn’t stop. The pictures were beautiful – you were beautiful. And if he couldn’t have you the way he wanted, then maybe he could gaze upon you and find a little sense of peace while he fisted his cock until he came all over his thigh.
There was something off when he came back to 217 on Thursday. The air seemed different, a new perfume that hadn’t been there before, but he chocked it up to his imagination. His eyes were sharp though, and within seconds, he saw it: the small, wooden frame laying facedown near the door. His stare narrowed, lifting the frame back up so he could see the photo of him and his mother, taken just a few months shy of her death. He set it in place before walking around the room.
There was a shift in the bedsheets. One of the photos amongst the cluster – the close-up of your face, eyes fixed at the camera without you knowing it – had been tilted slightly. And that scent … it only got stronger the more he was in the room.
The only people that knew about this room were him and Soonyoung, who never came in here anyway because he didn’t approve of it. Soonyoung had always been the most open person, willing to understand just about everything, and it wasn’t that he was cruel to Jihoon about it. Cruelty wasn’t in his nature. When Jihoon finally finished the photo wall and decided to let someone in on the secret, he allowed Soonyoung to walk into 217 on his own.
His friend’s face was nothing short of shock.
He had stood there, staring at all the photos for a long time, before noticing the cigars on the desk, the indent of a body on the sheets. Soonyoung knew what this room was about, what kind of depravity his friend was up to as means of relaxing. It smelled of smoke and fresh roses, ink and arousal. He was momentarily disgusted, but didn’t have it in him to be shocked. This was Jihoon after all. His closest confidant, and if he was letting him in to this secret, it must be for a reason.
“Pal,” he finally said, “you can’t keep doing this.”
Jihoon waved his hand. “I’m not adding any more photos.”
“Not that. I mean this –” Soonyoung gestured around the room. “– in general. I know that you have no … ill intent behind this. I know you’re carrying a torch for her –”
“I think it’s more than just that now.”
“– But,” he continued, and then sighed, his eyes growing heavy. “What if someone finds this room?”
Jihoon shook his head. “No one will. The door doesn’t even open with the universal key.” He pulled out two distinct looking gold keys with his pocket. “217 was used for storage by my great grandfather back in the day. The lock will only open for these two keys.” He placed one of them in Soonyoung’s palm and then closed his fingers. “I want you to have the second one. Keep it safe.”
Soonyoung’s eyes flickered to his friend’s. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be involved in this.”
“You don’t have to be involved in anything,” he chided. “Just don’t let this key out of your sight. Be my friend. Please.”
Soonyoung had always been weak to begging, and after a long moment, he nodded. That had been months ago, and he hadn’t been in 217 since. He didn’t tell a soul and tried his best to forget about his friend’s personal time. He kept the key safe, or so Jihoon thought.
Because someone was in here. Any normal person who found this room would come to him immediately about it, call him out on his behavior or threaten to call the police, take him down for a good price. But no one did. Even hours later, as Jihoon sat in 217 and contemplated who could’ve been in here, he realized that the answer had been in front of him.
The only person that would stay quiet, the only person that would refuse to look at him after stepping inside … was you.
He heard the lock click open, and he tilted his head to see Soonyoung opening the door. He looked relieved to find him here, as if he’d been looking for him for hours. Or maybe he was simply thankful he hadn’t walked in on his friend touching himself. Nevertheless, Soonyoung was panting, out of breath, and he didn’t even give Jihoon a second to ask what was wrong before he was exclaiming, “I think someone copied my key.”
You were going back to the room.
For an entire week, you wondered if it had all been a dream. The memory kept you up most nights, making your eyes tip up to the ceiling, where room 217 was locked just above your head. What if this was your cue to run again? What if these photos got back to Han? What if Jihoon had been secretly working on turning you into him this whole time? Rational was out the window now. Not when you were in the midst of divorce and he could use any piece of leverage against you.
The key shook in your hands as you stomped towards the room. You dared to not meet Seungkwan’s eyes this time, half-knowing that it must’ve been him who gave you this key in the first place. But why? Just to cause a stir, or was he curious himself? Maybe it wasn’t meant for you to know, and truthfully, you didn’t need the answer either. You just wanted to make sure that it was real, and then make a decision from there. What transpired this afternoon would change the trajectory of your future, if you fled this hotel or not.
You unlocked the door, key trembling in your grasp, and shut the door behind you before looking up. A gasp left your lips.
“So I didn’t scare you away?”
Back pressed against the door, you found Jihoon lounging in the desk chair, back slumped and legs spread comfortably. Instead of his typical cigar, he inhaled a drag from a cigarette before flicking some ash into a tray beside him. You swallowed hard and flattened your palms against the door, as if you could push it back. But you didn’t want to get away from him. Quite the opposite. Because you had questions and Jihoon, without a doubt, had answers.
“I don’t scare very easily anymore.” Your chin lifted to feign confidence.
Both sets of eyes shifted to the photo wall, still hanging in place, and when yours flickered back, his was already pointed on you. Transfixed. As if his gaze was always meant to find yours in a room.
“You had all these photos taken of me,” you muttered, leveling a glare at him, “and you’re using them for – what? Self pleasure, or are you actually working with Han?”
Jihoon’s brow furrowed. His stare was blank. “You think I would put my own life on the line like that by reaching out to Han about you, angel?”
You shrugged. “He must have a bounty on me though. It’s probably steep. Any hotel owner with a secret room is probably using it for …” You glanced at the sheets, which were now clean. “Nefarious activities.”
“That’s not what this room is for,” he answered. His voice was so calm, like you weren’t accusing him of anything. “And I am not, nor will I ever, be in contact with Han. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Your stare flicked to his and you bit your lip. His eyes moved down to see your teeth sink into your plump bottom lip, but you couldn’t let him distract you as you assessed his tone. And somehow … you knew he was telling the truth.
He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “This room didn’t start out the way that you think. It was just a place to unwind, and then … I realized you face made me feel better than any rare cigar.”
You paused, lips pursed. “You knew I’d come back.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t feel like you had to, but yes.”
“How long?” You didn’t even bother to gesture to the wall. He knew what you meant.
Jihoon’s gaze didn’t leave yours as he replied, “You’re not a fool. You know how long.”
Since the photographer came to the hotel. Even if you refused to admit it to yourself, to face the reality before you – you did know it. You watched him lean forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, as he took in your schooled expression.
Finally, you moved from the door and approached the wall. You reached out, fingers brushing over one photo in particular, before plucking it off. The corner ripped, and Jihoon fought the urge to get to his feet. It was a photo of you and Jeonghan, sharing a cigarette outside the Velvet Ruby. You could practically hear the laughter embedded in the ink. This had been a good day; you remembered it fondly.
When Jihoon eventually stood from his chair, he was careful not to crowd you, keeping his hands to himself. But you were slowly walking to the bed anyway, staring at the photo like it contained a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite figure out. You turned it over in your palm, then another time, before you let your eyes glaze over the surface again. “All these photos …” You murmured. “You don’t have a version of me that’s afraid.”
Jihoon’s spine was pressed against the old drawer in front of the photo wall. His hands gripped the edge, knuckles turning white from restraint. Well-heeled men control themselves. His voice was but a mere whisper when he said, “I wanted to remember you like this: safe, happy, beautiful. That’s the version of you this place created.”
You viewed up, crossing your legs over the edge of the bed. The confession struck you like lightning, making every hair on your body stand up and your skin prickle. You licked your lips and muttered, “If I told you this crossed the line …”
His answer was immediate: “I’ll remove every single trace of you from this room and I’ll …” He grimaced, but only for a second. “I’ll let you leave the hotel. I’ll wipe your name clean from the Velvet Ruby. I’ll let you move on.”
“And if I didn’t tell you that?” You bit your lip again.
His fingers flexed. Well-heeled men didn’t stare at married women like that. Well-heeled men didn’t imagine tugging on that lip before devouring her mouth. He did a sharp intake of breath.
“I would wait for you.” He took a beat. “Until you were ready. Until after your divorce finalized."
“The divorce will be finalized. The when part is simply up in the air. No need to be a worrywart.”
He tried to even his breathing, but the tension in the room was so thick that it could be cut with the dullest knife in his kitchen. His dark eyes never left yours, serious and unyielding. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t want anything from you, Jihoon,” you confessed. You knew it was wrong – it was diabolical – to want him in a moment like this. To acknowledge the desire you kept inside for so long, to hear him admit to it too. But you needed to, or else you might just explode. “I guess I just want … you. No one has made me feel safe like you do. No one has given me agency like you have. I’m not the person I used to be – I’m not afraid anymore – because of you.”
“Angel, you have to know …” His voice trailed off as he ultimately let himself step forward, slowly, in your direction. “You are the most enticing creature I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Before you, before this – everything felt cold and lonely. But your presence has invigorated something in me, something protective and primal that I know is wrong. I simply couldn’t help myself. Everything about you invites me in. You’re the predator and I’m just your weak prey.”
Your breathing stilled as you watched Jihoon sink to his knees in front of you. His hands, still scarred from ramming his fist into Han, carefully went to your hips, hardly even touching you. “So if you really want me,” he continued, “I need you to say it again, and I’ll do whatever your heart desires. As long as it means I get to touch you.”
You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat, hesitated, and then let your nimble fingers trace his mouth. “I want you, Jihoon,” you whispered.
He surged upward, standing between your long legs, and crushed his lips onto yours. You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t been kissed like this in years. And he knew that, so with his mouth still on yours, he took your palms off the bed and placed them on his chest. Instantly, your fingers curled, fisting into the silk shirt, bringing him that much closer. He laughed into the kiss, surprised by your eagerness, as he carefully slipped his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time Han kissed you, especially like this. With passion, with the kind of intensity that almost scared you, but you needed him more than you let on. You pulled Jihoon closer as he licked into your mouth, and you tasted nicotine on his tongue.
He leaned back, just slightly, noticing how swollen your lips looked from just one kiss. His mouth curved a little on one side, his fingers sliding down from your jaw down your collarbone, skimming your sides, before they rested at the buttons of your blouse. Your mouth sealed and you looked at him with wide eyes. “When was the last time anyone touched you?” He asked under his breath.
“I …” You shook your head. “I can’t remember.”
He raised one hand again, the tip of his finger trailing around your rounded lips. “Don’t sweat it, angel,” he whispered, leaning in to inhale your perfume yet again. He damn near groaned at the scent. “I wanted to go slow anyway. We have all the time in the world.”
“You have to go downstairs to watch the front desk though.”
Jihoon leveled a look at you. “Trust me. We have all the time in the world.”
You nodded, and your body froze when he tugged on your bottom lip finally, sucking it in between his teeth. He couldn’t stop the sound that reverberated from his mouth anymore, and when he released your lip, he saw the ident he left behind. The mark only he could give you.
No second guessing. No regretting. You slowly leaned back onto the plush mattress, your hair fanning out and making you look like an actual angel. Jihoon almost forgot to breathe at the sight of you. In this moment, you were all his and more. Everything he ever wanted was at his fingertips as he slowly unbuttoned your blouse and pulled your skirt down. He made sure to fold both pieces in a pile on the floor, topped off with the heels he bought you, before eyeing you yet again.
You were wearing a cotton chemise, trimmed with white lace, and stockings underneath. Under his gaze, you were already squirming, unsure how to handle someone looking at you with so much heat. Han had never, not even when you had first met, during the initial moments of attraction. Not even when he took your innocence. Never. Now Jihoon was, and even though it made goosebumps rise on your skin, you liked it. You needed it.
“You’re a real-life angel,” he whispered, hardly loud enough for you to hear, and helped lift the chemise over your head.
Jihoon almost fell back. He wasn’t that old, and yet, the sight of you half-dressed had him gripping the wall for support. Your breasts were the perfect size, rosy nipples that perked up from his attention. A garter belt was secure to your waist, holding up your sheer black stockings, and a pair of drawers underneath it all. The wet spot soaking into the fabric was so apparent, but even if he was blind, he could smell it. Smell you. He had never smelled this kind of arousal before, the kind that begged to be touched.
He wanted to taste you right now, like this. Push your drawers to the side and suck your clit into his mouth like a proper gentleman. Tights still on as one leg curled on his shoulder. But truthfully, he was too selfish. If he didn’t see you naked in the next thirty seconds, he might just come undone.
Taking off the garter belt, he carefully unhooked your stockings, slowly rolling them down your thighs, maintaining eye contact with you. He noticed your breathing pick up a little when his fingers hooked around the waistband of your drawers, and he paused, kneeling slightly and letting his breath ghost between your legs. His gaze didn’t leave yours.
“Jihoon –” You breathed.
“You’re wet,” he smirked, and your nipples hardened more. He hadn’t even touched them yet. “You’re so wet and I’ve hardly done anything.”
Your eyes closed for a moment, cheeks heating from embarrassment. “I just …” Words died on your tongue.
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he whispered, peeling your drawers down and setting them aside in the pile he laid out for you. Placing your hand in his, he brought your palm to his groin, letting you feel the hardness beneath. Your eyes widened, connecting with his, and he added, “I need you too.”
You swallowed, fingers pressing down to squeeze his bulge, but he took your hand off before you could feel anymore. Lord knew that if you touch him any longer … his release would be completely wasted.
He set your hand back down on the bed and lowered his gaze. You had to be the most beautiful thing he ever saw. Completely bare, hair unfurled out like a halo, pebbled nipples and slick gathering between your thighs. To think he had you, like this, in the room where all his perverse fantasies lied … this had to be a dream. And yet, when his fingers grazed your thigh, felt your hairs quill, it was real. You were real.
“Wait,” he murmured, jogging over to the desk and grabbing a compact camera from the cabinet. He didn’t even close the drawer, too excited, and wound the knob on the camera’s frame. Your head tilted to the side, but he didn’t give you a moment to ask as he waved the camera. “Can I, angel?”
In most circumstances, you would say no. But this wasn’t most circumstances. This was Jihoon, the only man that had ever made you feel unharmed. You were his angel, his muse. God forbid, you liked the way you were seen in his eyes, under his lens.
Your chin nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips.
His cock throbbed in his pants.
Lining the viewfinder up to his eye, he adjusted the aperture to the dimly lit room the best he could. He was hardly a professional; he just enjoyed photos that much. You didn’t smile. You just laid there before him, one arm slightly behind your head so your breasts lifted. He made sure to capture the whole scene, even the wrinkles within the sheets, the slight shine of arousal from your folds. With steady hands, Jihoon held his breath as he pressed the shutter lever and took the photo. Then another, and another. He wanted to be absolutely sure when he developed this film that he captured you perfectly.
And then, he threw the camera onto the ground, not giving you a moment before he was burying his face between your legs. The immediate moan you let out was heavenly. Jihoon was sure that was what the choir sounded like when he was forced to attend church as a kid. You leaned up on your elbows, watching the way his eyes rolled back as he licked into your weeping hole. Your jaw unhinged; you’d never felt anything like this. Never once thought you would feel anything this good. His nose was hitting that part of your core that you had only touched a few times, the place that made your insides turn to mush and cause honey to drip down your thighs, as his tongue did ungodly things to you. Your moans, you realized, only spurred him on more, and he curled his tongue inside you faster.
He looked up, eyes meeting yours from between your thighs, and noticed you were sitting up to watch him. But he wanted you to enjoy this, so he slid one hand up your body and pushed down your stomach. You complied, fully lying back against the mattress, as his other bicep looped around your leg. He need to pry you open more, spread you like a feast.
Rolling up his sleeves, the last thing you expected was him sliding two fingers inside of you while taking your swollen bud in his mouth. You exhaled, hardly a moan, because you weren’t sure what sounds you could make at the moment. Your hips lifted, grinding against his face unintentionally. Jihoon groaned into your pussy and it vibrated through you, causing your nipples to perk so much that they practically hurt. Suckling your clit, he tasted your tangy flavor, and he knew then that no one, not one person, came close to you. You were meant to be his and he was meant to be yours and he would be doing this over and over again.
You weren’t sure how he did it, but he managed to shove his face impossibly deeper. He tugged at your clit, curled those fingers inside you in a come forward motion, making you reel. Your thighs began to shake. How was he able to reach places no one ever could? Your whole body was on fire, and he was still lapping at your core. “That’s it, angel,” he muttered, and you shivered at his hot breath on your swollen clit. “Soak my face. I know you can.”
“Says … says you,” you huffed out, unsure if you even could reach that peak. Had you ever with Han? Now you were questioning everything and this was certainly not the time to think back to your previous marriage.
Jihoon chuckled, and your back almost arched. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there.”
Then he was going back in, swirling his tongue around that bud that made your knees twitch, pushing another finger inside of you. He was preparing you for his cock, stretching you to see if you would be able to take him, although you were unaware at the time. And when you finally came after just one curl of his three fingers, he knew you’d fit him so well. He almost whimpered at the taste of your release, the way you clamped down on his three thick fingers and rode out the rest of your orgasm on his face.
As he lifted his head from between your legs, you realized he made due on his promise. You didn’t just soak his face; he was covered in you. His chin mostly, but you watched him wiped down his entire face with his sleeve and you instantly blushed with embarrassment. It was impossible to hide.
Jihoon only smiled at your flushed face, getting to his feet and leaning over you. His lips grazed your cheek, feeling how hot your skin was, as he fought with the buckle on his belt. “No need to be embarrassed. Your flavor is … out of this world,” he whispered, and then leaned back slightly to study you. After a long moment, he asked, “Has no one got you off before?”
You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m … not sure. Was it obvious to you?”
He flashed a smile. “Just a smidge.”
A sigh escaped you, and then your lashes fluttered open. “Of course, I … Han and I undoubtedly have had …” The words turned to ash on your tongue. Growing up as a woman during this time taught you to hold your tongue on all things sexual, but he understood what you were trying to say. Your hand smacked down on the bed. “I think he tried and I simply never realized that I was supposed to feel something like that after intercourse.”
“It shouldn’t just be after intercourse, angel,” he explained, licking the corner of his lips. “He should’ve been getting you off in other ways. You were his wife. Someone to worship.”
“Again, Han tried –”
He cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping down the slope of your nose, and your lips immediately sealed. Jihoon had a way of looking at you that just completely silenced you. He was so calm, so soft, when he said, “Can we not talk about your former husband anymore so I can make love to you?”
You nodded immediately, your own hand coming up to squeeze his wrist lightly. He tried to hold himself together at your submission; the last thing he wanted was to frighten you with just how much he needed you. But it was hard. He was fucking hard. Jihoon couldn’t remember another time that he was this aroused, just like how you were minutes ago. Precum was practically seeping through his slacks and there was a pretty significant tent. Your gaze drifted to it every so often. You knew how badly he desired you, and still … you were just as excited. It made him want to push into you deep, fast, so you could feel him stretching you and reach that one spot that made you crumble.
He was a well-heeled man though. He promised to take this slow, and once you were ready … then he would really take you.
Jihoon didn’t just want to make you see stars. He wanted you to see galaxies.
He unbuttoned his shirt in front of you, wanting to make you watch. It was obvious the way your fingers twitched and your toes curled that you liked what you saw: a toned torso with long arms and bulging biceps to match. Jihoon always felt the need to tell the women he slept with that his height was the only short part of him, but your dilated stare told him that you already suspected this. You felt it. And when he finally slipped off his belt, peeled down his slacks, you weren’t completely surprised. But your teeth still dug into your lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, because the size of him was unfair to most men.
Jihoon’s fingers were thick, but his cock was even thicker. His girth should be enough to scare you, and you tried to remain impassive. However … you weren’t sure how he was supposed to fit inside anyone – let alone you – who had only ever slept with your ex husband. He was probably still long when he was soft, but when he was hard like this … Jihoon might as well have been hiding a third appendage in his pants. Veins traveled up the shaft towards a head that was flushed ruby red, precum beading at the tip. You noticed the way his cock quivered, begging for an ounce of attention, flopping against his chiseled abdomen.
He moved forward, and suddenly, the dynamic shifted for him. He was now the predator, and you were the prey. Propping his knee on the edge of the bed, he knocked your thighs open, giving him enough room to take you. Slick oozed from between your legs, and just the sight made more precum trickle down his length. He leaned forward, his breath mingling with yours as he aligned his cock to your entrance with one hand. Using the other, he leisurely took your wrists in his grip and pinned them above your head.
“I’m going to take you slow, angel,” he murmured, trailing his mouth down your jaw, and then your neck, before licking down the valley between your breasts. You began to squirm again, but you didn’t budge. He kept eye contact with you as he swirled his tongue so lightly around one of your nipples, then added, “If you want me to go faster, or harder, tell me. I’ll do whatever you need.”
You nodded quickly. He grinned, as if he wasn’t just about to completely ravish you with his thick cock. He pecked your lips, and then adjusted his position slightly, before you finally felt his bulbous head start to push into your tight channel. Your breath caught, your walls pressing down when he wasn’t even halfway inside. “Relax, angel,” he whispered, lowering his head again to take your hard nipple into his mouth. Just the feeling of him suckling on you like this was the best distraction, and he felt your body give way to him.
Once he was fully sheathed, he paused and savored the tight connection between the two of you. You were almost afraid to move, praying he wouldn’t slip out just yet, no matter how uncomfortable the stretch was. Your eyes shifted over his shoulder, scanning the wall of photos. Every single picture of your face. He was devoted to you – god, was he devoted – and you knew it from the way he heaved against your nipple just from the realization of being inside you finally. In room 217. On the bed he pleasured himself on so many times to your image.
Because it was you. It was always going to be you.
His mouth moved, pressing against the curve of your breast, as he pulled all the way out before slamming back in. You gasped, still not used to the absolute fullness inside of you, but you relaxed again as he rolled your other nipple between two fingers. He began a steady pace, looking down at you so your eyes would never leave his. He wanted to make sure he caught every expression as he fucked into you deep. “God, you feel …” He lost the will to speak, only able to huff and sigh. “Like … like heaven.”
“Really?” You breathed.
“Really,” he muttered. “Terribly so.”
Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, but he wouldn’t yield. Not unless you said so. He molded you just for him. He would ruin you for anyone else. Jihoon had to, because he couldn’t bear the thought of any other man being inside of you, not when he finally tasted heaven. And it was when you said the words, “I want more,” that he might’ve lost all restraint.
“More?” His brow furrowed down at you.
You confirmed with a nod. “Harder. Faster. Please, Jihoon.”
“Angel, you don’t –”
“I do.” Your response was so calm, stern. You knew what you were asking for, and when he was still stalling, you pushed your hips up to meet his, rubbing against his groin. “Take me how you’ve always wanted to.”
His grip on your wrists tightened, and all you heard was him mutter, “Fuck,” before every ounce of control left his body. Pulling out again, he practically pounded back into you, relentless. His new pace knocked the wind out of you, his hips fucking into you so hard that you were sure there would be bruises the next day. And you didn’t care. Because he felt so good, and you felt good, and you finally understood why your old friends used to say that sex was only good with the right person. That was Jihoon. His cock curved into you just right, hitting that one spot, and you keened, whimpering his name like it was the only thing you knew.
“Squeeze me so good,” he grunted, meeting your completely fucked-out stare, “you know that?”
All you could do was nod, mouth falling open as your body vibrated with pleasure.
His free hand left your nipple to hitch your leg up onto his hip, and his groan sounded otherworldly as he fucked into you even deeper than before. He had to be dreaming. No one could ever feel this good, but you did. And of course, it would be you. Wrists fidgeting in his hold, you felt your arousal gush around him just from the pleasure of being absolutely filled like this. You managed to hold your leg up, even when it felt like jelly, and his hand crept between your legs. “I’m gonna make you see stars again,” he promised, fingers finding your puffy clit, “and then I’m going to let go inside you. Sound good, angel? Because I can’t hold on much longer.”
Before you could utter a strangled word, he pinched your clit, and then pressed down on it at the same time he pushed into you hard. All you saw was white. Just as you started to let out the kind of moan that would echo through the entire hotel, he sealed his mouth over yours. He kissed you with purpose, swallowing every sound as you came for what felt like forever. Your walls contracted, clenching around his cock, until he was groaning against your lips and spiraling down the same path. He fucked his release into you, not stopping for one moment, but his hips faltered slightly. Emptying himself inside of you, you felt the stickiness begin to drip from between your thighs and the deafening squelch when he thrust into you one last time. Finally, he exhaled, collapsing on top of you as the last of his release trickled inside.
You were both silent for a while. The sound of heavy breathing filtered throughout room 217. Jihoon finally slipped his hand off your wrists, muted red marks now blooming on your skin, and cupped your cheek so you could look at him. He admired you: hardly able to keep your eyes open, your dilated pupils, the flush on your cheeks and the sweat dotting your hairline, making your perfectly-kept hair now frizzy. You were even more beautiful like this – not put together, claimed. You were all his now. And no one – not even Han – could take you away from this hotel.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered against your kiss-bitten lips, “forever.”
ᯓ★ Summary: You swore you would never come back to this foggy town. It reminded you of the past you longed to forget, the cozy small town aesthetic being a facade for how it really is— connections and influence get you far, and if you were born on the wrong side of the tracks, good luck.You fell in love once, with the boy from the sunny side of this place, who gave you the best summer of your life. But a scandal forced you to break up and you left, and now years later, you're back to handle family business and he's still there, at the music store, where you first met.
ᯓ★ Pairing: ex boyfriend!jihoon x f.reader
ᯓ★ Genre: 18+, angst, smut, fluff, exes to lovers, small town au (riverdale/twin peaks kind of vibe)
ᯓ★ Warnings: PLEASE READ ALL OF THE WARNINGS—heavy angst (ya'll know me by now), grief, parental loss, family trauma, social prejudice (small town vibes, classism, etc), trauma, graphic violence (fighting but not between Jihoon and the reader), talks of murder, toxic parental dynamics, gang affiliations, smoking (cigs, weed), drinking, very sexual content: lots and lots of kissing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, breast play, oral (f. receiving), jihoon gets jerked off a little lol, nail digging, clit stimulation, rough missionary, multiple orgasms, praise worship (sorta), pet names (if I miss anything lmk)
ᯓ★Words: 34K (don’t look at me)
ᯓ★AN: This story is apart of the Carats Ridge collab hosted by @imnotshua, @starlightkyeom and @100vern. Thank you for coming up with such a fun idea! Check out the other amazing stories here. This story was a labor of loveeeeeee and I enjoyed every bit of the headaches I got from it lol. I cannot thank @hannieoftheyear, @gentleisa, @/starlightkyeom and @yoongihan enough for listening to me bitch and complain and cry about this story being good. You always catch my mistakes and I cannot thank you enough for reassuring me that this did not suck. Especially thank you to Thea for dealing with my atrocious grammar and not booting me off the island a long time ago lol. Love you guys 🤍 The reader is nicknamed Blue :)
Playlist: Pink + White- Frank Ocean, Heavy- The Marias, Show Me How- Men I Trust, Something Along The Way- Nirvana, Violet- Hole!, All I Did Was Dream Of You- Beabadobee ft. The Marias, Sunsetz- Cigarettes After Sex (more songs on the playlist here)
You hate it here.
The fresh scent of petrichor hangs in the air after the morning rain. The fog is unrelenting, swirling around in the backyard of your childhood home, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It’s too quiet, eerie, as if Mother Nature knew you were coming and wanted to give you a cruel reminder of why you haven’t set foot into Carats Ridge in ten years. The memories, the hurt, and the pain are still fresh in your mind and linger in your heart, and now there is one more that can be added to the list: your father is gone.
He died of a heart attack, and it’s tearing you apart. Your dad had health issues, and you begged and pleaded for him to come live with you in New York City, to let you take care of him, and finally leave this god-forsaken place behind. Your mom died when you were barely three, with debilitating breast cancer that took her as quickly as it came. He was all that you had. But he always said this place was his home, his community, and he couldn’t live it behind, after everything.
Well, now he’s gone and done it anyway, and he’s left you too.
His ‘community’, as he so lovingly called it, is The Zodiacs, aka a gang. He led it for as long as you can remember, and his dad led it until he passed, and so on. You were never meant for that lifestyle, as you always kept your head in books and wrote in your journals until your heart was content. You were destined to leave this town, become a writer, and make your voice heard. Being the next in line to lead the new generation of degenerates was not in your plans. Your father knew that and loved you anyway.
God, this hurts.
The Zodiacs aren’t terrible people; they’ve done a lot for the community here on the Southside of Carats Ridge. Sure, they have petty thieves and criminals in their midst, but they are always first in line to pull together money for children, single mothers, and the needy. When your best friend, Lola Apple, had her house burn down, the Zodiacs rallied together and fixed up her childhood home free of charge. They are a family that sticks together, and you do admire that. You try not to think ill of them, even though you are technically a legacy member. But it doesn’t take away your anger, your grief, and the pain that’s etched in your heart. Daddy told you just over a week ago, I have all the time in the world to see you, kid. Just you wait.
Well, you did wait, you kept your promise. But he broke his.
You stay on the balcony a little bit longer, watching the fog slowly disperse as the sun forces itself through the clouds, revealing grass that is dead and gone, as if the soil underneath knows that he’s gone too. The urge to smoke a cigarette floods your veins, the intense craving to feel your lungs burn as you inhale on a stick of death. A little bit ironic, you think. You quit several months ago, wanting to be a good example for your dad. What good is that going to do now?
You hear the motorcycles from a mile away, alerting you that your little peace is going to be cut short. You take a deep breath, inhaling deeply from the pit of your stomach, hoping to take away the anxiety you feel. It doesn’t do much, but it helps. You stare far away into the trees, reminiscing about the time you and Daddy would play hide and seek in the woods until you ran out of breath. You remember fondly the deer and rabbits that would come by from time to time, greeting you like an old friend rather than an enemy. You wish they were here, sitting with you in solace as you remember the few good memories you had about this fucked up town—most of them here at your home, at the music store, and the lake.
“Hey, there, Bluebird.”
You turn slowly, recognizing that throaty voice that you’ve grown up with all your life. Facing Lola, you glance at her and stare at the woods again, noticing the pained expression on her face. You know she’s worried about you, and she means well, but the last thing you want is to hear how people are sorry for your loss. Quite frankly, you want to fucking scream.
“I’m not going to say it, because I know you don’t want to hear it,” Lola says, hugging you from behind. “But just know that I love you, okay?”
You acknowledge her words, blinking away tears that threaten to fall on your face. “The kids aren’t here?” you manage to ask.
“No Blue,” she responds softly. “They’re at home with Vernon.”
Everyone has been calling you Blue or some variation of it for as long as you remember, partly because you prefer blue pens over black, and the journals you kept buying were always some shade of blue. You don’t know if it's your favorite color, but looking at it brings you peace. It makes you feel whole.
“Is everyone here?” You sniffle. “I guess I should go out there and pay my respects, huh?”
Lola scoffs. “If anything, they need to pay you respect.” She shakes her head, a small smile on her face. “Look, I know you never blended into the lifestyle, and let’s be real, you weren’t meant to be in this place. But you’ve brought a great deal of pride to the Southside and showed others they could make something of themselves. Who would’ve known a Zodiac legacy would be one of the best-selling authors in the world?”
You know she is right, but you don’t feel that right now. You want to grieve and be alone, and scream into the void. You want to sit in the darkness and let it swallow you up like a cocoon. But your father, in all his suffering, led the Zodiacs with pride, and you will do right by him, even if you don’t want to.
“I-I’ll be in,” you breathe, wiping your wet eyes. “I just need a minute.”
Lola nods, pulling you into a hug that you know you need, but don’t quite feel like you deserve. “Take all the time in the world.”
You hear her feet retreat, the creaking of the door loud and grating before it swings shut with a thud. Staring out into the woods again, you watch the sun disappear behind more ivory clouds, the thunder making itself heard. You know you should go back inside and get this over with, ripping off the bandaid of sympathies and wellwishes you are going to be flooded with.
But instead, you stay out here a little bit longer, and cry.
A week later, you stand outside the church, the one tall building in this town that has been kept up over the years. Standing in brown and white, it has a red illuminated sign in front that reads “Jesus Saves”. Your dad was a lot of things, and religious wasn’t one of them. But he was loved and respected by everyone here, and it was the pastor of New World Baptist Church who reached out and offered to hold the funeral services. He was best friends with Pastor Matthews growing up, and even though their paths diverged, they remained close until the end. You could have had the services anywhere, but you know deep down, this is right.
Your black dress sways in the light breeze, the warm, humid air passing beneath it. Drawing a cigarette to your mouth, you light it and inhale until your throat burns to your liking, hoping to kill the nerves that curdle in the pit of your stomach. It does nothing but aggravate you further. You scoff at the irony.
“There you are,” Lola steps out from the church, joining you to your left. She takes the cigarette from your hand, inhaling it and exhaling with a deep sigh. “I thought you were quitting.”
“So did I,” you murmur with a shrug. “But promises are meant to be broken, right?”
You make the mistake of looking at her, and the pity on her face cuts you deep. You don’t want people to feel sorry for you; if it were up to you, Daddy would have been cremated and his ashes scattered across the lake. But it’s not what he wanted, and you have to be the good daughter and respect his wishes, after all.
“I’m not gonna break, Lola,” you say aloud, as if you are reading her thoughts.
“I never said you would, Blue.”
The church doors creak open, followed by heavy footsteps. You turn to see Pastor Matthews approaching with a slight limp, a result of a car accident that partly led him to turn his life to God. Or at least, that’s what Daddy said.
“Ladies, we can get started whenever you get ready.”
You nod, gazing at your surroundings one last time and taking in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
Lola puts out the cigarette, linking her arm with yours as you enter the church together and walk past the pairs of wet and red eyes. You make eye contact with Vernon, who gives you a half-smile while holding his two twin girls, Amethyst and Ruby, whom he shares with Lola. Lola and Vernon have been together since they were kids. They have the kind of love that makes sense for them: it’s familiar, warm, and unique in their own way. Lola was always the spitfire of the two, ready to give anyone a verbal lashing to hell and a fist to match. Vernon is her anchor, keeping her still in many storms, and a part of why she has mellowed out. Vernon is also a part of the Zodiacs, with his father as the vice-leader of the gang and your father’s right-hand man. Since everyone knows you didn’t have any interest in being more involved in the Zodiacs than you are now, you imagine Vernon will be picking up the mantle now, legacy and all that.
The funeral proceeds as planned. Pastor Matthews leads a prayer, and the choir sings about the afterlife, heaven, and things you can’t relate to. You start to zone out when community members pay their respects, not because you don’t care, but because your heart can’t take it. Daddy meant a lot to this side of town, and he was so clearly loved. Seeing the sadness in their eyes and their tear-stricken faces is a stab to the gut. You want to lie down and pretend this day never happened. You want to rewind back to last week when your father told you he loved you for the last time. It’s time to give the eulogy, but your head is spinning. You want to leave—
“I have something to say.”
Whipping your head back, your breath falters, your heart beating wildly against your cage like a captured bird. Walking to the front, his eyes locking with yours, is Jihoon, the boy who changed the trajectory of your life. It’s been ten years since you’ve seen him or heard that voice. He’s not the eighteen-year-old boy that you fell in love with at the music store. His hair is longer, he’s bulkier, and time seems to have been kind to him. Jihoon strides to the front of the church, wearing a black suit and matching rimmed glasses.
“What is he doing here?” you whisper in Lola’s ear.
Lola looks confused for a moment, beckoning you to lean closer. “You didn’t know? He was helping your dad from time to time.”
You stare at her blankly, barely registering what she is saying. Jihoon and your dad? Hanging out? Your dad never mentioned it. Focusing back on Jihoon, you study him, waiting with bated breath.
“This was a man loved by everyone, from the Southside and even the North,” Jihoon recalls fondly. “Well, almost everyone.” The light laughter echoes in the small church as he continues. “He showed up to every town hall, ready to speak for everyone in this community, and wasn’t afraid to ruffle feathers to get his point across. I worked with him at the center, and he was just a nice guy to be around. I know I live on the other side of the tracks, but I know I am not alone when I say, he will be missed.”
The members hum and nod in agreement. Jihoon quietly walks towards the back of the church, exchanging a look with you one last time before he disappears from your peripheral view. The church falls silent, and the small movements of shuffled feet and chirping birds are heard. Lola nudges you softly, beckoning toward Pastor Matthews as he moves to the front of the podium.
“Now it is time for the eulogy.”
Taking a deep breath, you walk towards the front, feeling the sympathetic eyes burning into your skin. You make no effort to look up immediately and face the en masse, instead keeping your head down to maintain your composure. Pastor Matthews comes over to you slowly, offering what was supposed to be a comfortable presence, but instead, you feel smothered.
“My father was a pillar of strength,” you begin. “He was a master of everything, and a carbon copy of none. Daddy was original, one of a kind, and the greatest thing in my life.” Your voice cracks towards the end, clearing your throat before continuing. “He was hardworking and gentle, and most importantly, fair. As you all know, I was not meant for the Zodiac life, and he could have made me stay and forced me to be something I wasn’t, or ever would be. But he was a true parent who saw me for who I was, not what he envisioned for me. He saw the good in everyone in this room, and this town, even when they treated him like shit.”
You glance at the closed mahogany casket, surrounded by the most expensive lilies you could buy. You’re filled with a mix of sadness and anger, thinking of the memories where you and he suffered, and the possibility of what could have been if he had left when you asked. “That man is the heart and soul of Carats Ridge, and I don’t give a damn what anyone else says.” Your voice trembles as your vision blurs. “He chose you over me, his own daughter. His only family. That’s how much he valued you, and it is a testament to his character. My father served this place until the day he died, and I hope that if you truly cared about him, you carry his memory in your hearts for the rest of your lives and the next.”
You didn’t mean to come off as angry. You planned to stay calm and get through this in one piece. But damn it, you are mad as hell. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to have at least twenty more years with him. None of this is fair.
You wobble as you walk back to your seat, laying your head on Lola’s shoulder as the funeral drones on until the choir sings the last song. The pallbearers, fellow members of the Zodiac, carry his casket as you lead it, holding a frame of you and him at your high school graduation. The cemetery is behind the church, a plot of land and a tombstone already prepared, as if he knew his time was coming. Dark grey clouds swirl around, dangerously, as everyone gathers around the grave. Daddy will be buried six feet deep, covered with dirt, and never seen again. Your heart tears at the seams.
The wind picks up cruelly, a spirit of madness at play, as it slightly lifts the tent where the burial is happening. The rain follows, warm droplets hitting your body and soaking your dress. The weather called for sunshine and blue skies. What a wicked game Mother Nature is playing on you. You observe everyone, with bowed heads and sorrow, as Pastor Matthews recites more Bible scriptures you can bear. After the final “amen, " men surround your father’s casket, preparing to lower him into the ground. Your breathing is labored and shallow as you clutch the front of your dress. You want to crawl out of your skin.
“Fuck this,” you mutter, shaking your head furiously.
You run, letting your feet guide you through the heavy rain, your hair and makeup ruined. Your expensive dress sticks to your body like wet paper, your bra strap slipping to the side, but you don’t care. You keep running until you can’t anymore, finding yourself at the very end of the road. There are no houses around, just woods and what lurks in them. You let out a guttural wail, letting go of everything you’ve been holding in since you got that call. They say grief comes and goes like waves, and maybe that’s true. But right now you are drowning, struggling to breathe. Veins pop out of your neck as you scream, banging your hands on the ground until they are dirty and slightly bruised. You told Lola you weren’t going to break—another lie told.
You hear the engine through the loud rain, a yellow classic pickup truck speeding towards you and drifting to the right. The passenger door swings open, creamy leather seats appearing first.
“Get in the car before you catch a cold.”
The rain makes it hard to see, the feeling of soft hands pulling you up off the street and leading you into the car. But you know that voice oh-so-well. It’s one you could never get.
“Jihoon.”
He stops, his eyes locking with yours as he wants to say what’s on his mind. But instead, he grants you a mercy, reaching over you to buckle you in, his cologne light and putting you at ease.
“Let’s get you out of this rain, yeah?”
Jihoon wasn’t sure if he should come to the funeral. He hasn’t seen you in a decade, and he thought maybe it would be an icy reunion between the two of you. But here you are, lying on his futon with his t-shirt on and wrapped in a blanket, beautiful and more refined than the last time he saw you. Maybe that’s what happens when you become a best-selling author and the access that comes with it. As it stood in the rain, he saw you running away from the burial. Lola looked distraught, and everyone else watched on with sympathy and curiosity, as though having never seen anyone mourn before.
So he went after you.
There weren’t many places you could have run off to, as the church stands in the middle of a cul-de-sac. The main road would have been too far to run, which left you headed towards dark Sinbrook Forest. When he found you, you were sitting on the street under the pelting rain, lost in your own storm. You didn’t say much while in the car, and he didn’t expect you to—Jihoon knows all too well what grief feels like, and he knew you shouldn’t be alone.
Jihoon was in another city, living his life, when his mother called with the news about his father’s stroke. He worked as a mixer at a music studio and dropped everything to take care of him. It meant working at his family-owned music store while his mother cared for his father, and Jihoon hoped he would eventually be able to return to his new life and arrange better care for his father. That was five years ago.
When his father died a few years later, it tore his mother apart. He supposes losing the love of your life will do that to someone, but it broke her. She refused to leave the house most days, and she wanted him to stay in Carats Ridge forever. He fought tooth and nail to keep living in the small apartment upstairs from the music store rather than in his childhood home. The overbearingness would have been too much, and Jihoon needed time to process his own feelings.
Jihoon thought about you over the years, wondering how you had been and whether you were happy. The last time you saw him, you promised to keep in touch and never to lose that connection. It worked for a few months, then the communication slowed and ceased altogether. He understood you were busy, living in New York, and having a busy life, or maybe you felt like you needed to move on. He was happy for you, truly. But he also felt left behind, forgotten, and, deep down, even now, hasn’t gotten over the girl he'd fallen in love with at the music store.
Ten Summers Ago
Oh, my life
Is changin' every day
In every possible way
And oh, my dreams
It's never quite as it seems
Never quite as it seems
"Dreams" by the Cranberries blasted through the speakers when you walked in, wearing a faded Simpsons t-shirt with dark jeans and sneakers. Jihoon was at the front, strumming the strings on the guitar as he worked on that Saturday. He planned to go to college for music and needed to practice whenever he got the chance. But you were a distraction.
He knew who you were because you attended the same high school, had shared classes over the years, and had graduated just two weeks earlier. You weren’t in the same social circles, so you never actually had a conversation. But as he watched you flip through albums and pick up a variety of them that wouldn’t go together, he became curious. You didn’t seem like the type to listen to Spice Girls, Phil Collins, Nirvana, or Coolio. Now that he thinks of it, he didn’t peg you as a music lover at all. Whenever he saw you, you had a journal in your hands, scribbling away as if you didn’t want to be disturbed.
You also picked up Hot Tub Time Machine and Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, two movies Jihoon hasn’t seen. As he scanned the items, he saw you looking at the keychains that had just arrived. Your eyes lit up as you touched the bluebird one, taking it off the latch and setting it on the counter. Something odd stirred in his chest, and he wasn’t sure what to call it.
“I’ll take this one too,” you announced, digging in your purse.
You handed Jihoon a $20 bill on the counter, your fingers accidentally touching with a light shock. You jumped back, aghast, as Jihoon stood there, unsure of what to make of it. “That was weird,” you muttered, eyeing him carefully.
“Well, don’t look at me,” Jihoon tittered, scratching the back of his hand. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Do you make it a habit of shocking girls on their eighteenth birthdays?” You pressed, folding your arms.
“N-no,” Jihoon sputtered, at a loss for words. “But happy birthday?”
“Mmhm,” you hummed, your lips pursed together. Then your face broke into a throaty laugh that echoed throughout the store, a contagious one that almost had him joining in. “I’m fucking with you,” you catch your breath. “I mean, it is my birthday, but I don’t think you are going around shocking girls on purpose.”
He broke the bill and placed the change in your hands. The spark didn’t happen again, and he couldn’t help but smirk. You counted the change back quietly, slipping it into your wallet.
“See, no spark,” Jihoon said, holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers.
“Okay, “ you scoffed, grabbing your items off the counter. “Thank you for not shocking me again, I guess.”
He watched you walk out of the music store, leaving an impression in your wake. This was the most you had talked in all the years you had been in the same vicinity as one another; now he was more curious about you than ever.
Your body is dead weight when you finally wake up. It almost feels like you are one with the futon, your body leaving a deep imprint on the cushion. The sun is just now rising, blinding you with its infectious light. You sit up, stirred and slightly shaken as you recount the last day. The funeral, the pelting rain, the six-foot grave your father was supposed to be put in, and Jihoon, who came and took you here, to his place above the music store. Much of it is a blur after that, as all you remember is changing into an oversized shirt and sweats Jihoon had randomly before crashing on his couch. You were too catatonic to speak, your energy drained from experiencing the worst day of your life. Jihoon didn’t force you to speak, and you appreciated it. He just let you be.
You stumble through the apartment, not one hundred percent awake, looking for the bathroom. Finding the door askew, you rush inside, relieving the pressure you felt in your lower abdomen. Jihoon was always a neat freak, and having a clean bathroom is no surprise to you. Everything is in order and in its place where it belongs without a smudge of fingerprints or dust in sight. The decor is simple—white shower linen paired with a clear curtain, black mats, and a black-and-clear soap dispenser. The medicine cabinet is hidden behind the mirror, but you don’t bother going through it. Finishing your business, you wash your hands, splashing more water on your face to stay alert.
Sauntering back to the couch, you observe the layout of the apartment—an open space with brick walls, a bookshelf full of vinyls, CDs, and other standard furniture that makes it his. You can tell he took extra care to form this in his style, and you would expect nothing less from him. Finding your phone on the floor, you grab it and plop back onto the futon. Your eyes widen at the dozens of notifications you received, most of them from Lola, some from Vernon, and one from your agent. Your heart pangs at the messages you received, and maybe you shouldn’t have run off the way you did. It was irrational and maybe a little selfish. But you couldn’t stay there another minute—you felt yourself sinking into the ground with him.
Stifling a yawn, you respond to Lola’s messages with four simple words: “I’m okay. With Jihoon.”
Your phone rings shortly after, Lola’s name displayed on your screen. Taking a deep breath, you prepare for what she is about to give.
“Listen, I’m sorry—”
“I’m not mad,” Lola interrupts, her voice unusually calm. “I understand why you ran off. I mean, I was scared half to death, but I would be more worried if Jihoon didn’t already tell us where you were.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, you walk towards the windows, peering at everyone below, going about their normal lives. The street and sidewalks are still wet with rain, but the flowers in bloom make it worth being outside. You remember the first time you smelled tulips and how its sweet fragrance tickled your nose. The only pharmacy in town stands across the street; next to it are a flower shop and a boutique for fine dresses. You remember walking past them, wondering how the people who ran their shops lived their lives.
“I didn’t realize you had each other’s numbers,” you say, breaking out of self-induced nostalgic trance.
“We’ve worked together a few times, for some events around the Southside,” Lola discloses. “And he and Vernon hang out.”
You mull over her words, trying to grasp Jihoon and Vernon in the same room, actually talking to each other. Even the idea of him being around your father makes your head buzz. “How did that happen, anyway? Daddy never mentioned any of this to me.”
“I’m not sure if you knew this, but Jihoon gave guitar lessons to the children at the community center,” Lola begins. “Your dad helped out around the center, like he always did, and I guess they became acquainted that way.”
Your tongue pokes your cheek, giving this some thought. “I guess. It’s just weird to think about, and Daddy said nothing to me about it. He knows how I feel about this town, but… I don’t know.” Sighing deeply, your heart pierces at the thought of everything that has happened. This town is plaguing you, and you are desperate to get out of it. “I will not be here long enough to dwell on it anyway, so.”
“Oh yes! Speaking of,” Lola’s voice jumps an octave. “Vern and some of the Zodiac are going to help clear out the house before we start doing open houses.”
“Okay,” you murmur.
Lola is also a real estate agent, the only one in town, and gets clients from both sides of Carats Ridge. She is the only one you trust to handle the sale of the house, as it’s too much to bear. Lola is good at what she does, and you know you are in safe hands. It wasn’t what she had set out for herself; she saw herself as an actress starring in movies. But when the fire happened, she stayed behind to care for her mom until she passed. Lola never got that chance to live her dreams, but she seems pretty happy despite that.
You barely hear the front door unlock behind you, turning to face Jihoon as he walks into the apartment, carrying coffee and a large paper bag from the local diner, Mansae. Locking eyes briefly, your stomach does somersaults, unsure of what to make of this moment. “Lola, I have to go. I’ll see you at the house later.”
As you disconnect the call, you smile sheepishly, fidgeting with your hands. Jihoon sets the bag and coffee on the table, rubbing his hands together. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by your truck,” you answer honestly. “But I’ll be okay and out of your hair soon.”
“There’s no rush for you to leave,” Jihoon responds, pointing at the bag. “I brought breakfast in case you were hungry.”
He pulls the contents out of the bag, revealing a container of various donuts, all of which happen to be your favorite. You eye the chocolate one sprinkled with nuts, taking you back to the first time you had one. Your dad brought you to the diner as a treat, letting you have whatever you wanted for getting good grades in elementary school. You chose that donut because it reminded you of a Snickers bar, and you were pleasantly surprised when you bit into it and found it filled with caramel. It was one of the best days of your life.
“You didn’t have to do this,” you eventually respond, grabbing the donut out of the container. “Thank you, though.”
“Of course.” Jihoon nods, reaching into the bag. “Come sit down and eat.”
He holds a breakfast sandwich in his hand, motioning for you to sit at the dining table. Outside, the clouds shift, spilling a sudden, warm glow across the wood table.
“Please? he asks, gentler this time.
Reluctantly, you take a seat at the table, taking a bite out of your donut. The warm velvety caramel oozes onto your tongue, making you involuntarily moan in gratification. You glance at Jihoon, who watches you in amusement. You haven’t had a donut this good since you’ve left town, and you live in New York City. There are some things that you can only get from one place, and donuts are one of them.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good donut,” you disclose, wiping the corner of your mouth. “Mansae is as good as ever.”
“You know, Mr. and Mrs. Sherbet still run the place?” Jihoon imparts, unwrapping his sandwich. “I still go by there every Sunday with Mom.”
You take another bite, hiding the grimace forming on your face. His mother, Mrs. Lee, had it out for you from the very beginning. Maybe it is because you were from the Southside and dressed like it, but she always gave you a look or said unpleasant things that would have hurt your feelings if you cared. Mrs. Lee isn’t the only person to treat you unfairly in this town, but she adds to the list of reasons you hate it here.
“Looks like nothing has changed much in Carats Ridge,” you say. “I can’t say I miss being back here.”
Jihoon falters just for a moment, briefly, but you caught it. You’re instantly filled with regret. “I’m sorry, that was mean—”
“No, don’t apologize,” Jihoon waves you off. “You are just being honest, right?”
Your mouth opens and shuts without any words coming out. Frustration hits your chest like a sharpened arrow, penetrating your heart deep in its core. Jihoon could never understand how you feel. He’s never had to deal with the prejudice you faced just for being born on the wrong side of town—being accused of thefts, the dirty looks, passersby assuming you weren’t smart, and you weren’t going to amount to anything. He couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to wake up and have strikes against you just for existing. He had the privilege of doing whatever he wanted; you didn’t.
“How have you been?” You change the subject. “It’s been a long time.”
Jihoon leans back in his chair, adjusting his glasses as he mulls over your question. “I’ve been okay. I left town for a while and came back to take care of Dad for a while.”
“Take care?” Your ears perk up. “Is he okay?”
A pained expression is on his face, glancing down as he adjusts his glasses again. “So I guess you haven’t heard then.”
He didn’t have to say anything else; you knew what he meant—his father is gone. The pain of losing a parent, someone you love forever, leaves a permanent, ugly scar on your soul. You never heal from it, but you learn to deal with it, and it becomes a part of you.
“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” you murmur. “Mr. Lee was a good man.”
You mean what you said. Mrs. Lee always gave you a hard time, but his father was always kind to you and made you feel welcome. They were opposites, and you used to wonder how that even happened. You like to imagine that’s where Jihoon got his warmth from.
“It’s okay,” Jihoon sighs. “It’s been a couple of years now, and I have taken over the music store for my mom.”
“Wow,” you respond, nostalgia hitting you soft like a pillow. “I used to love it there.” All those weekends you would spend at the store, listening to Donna Summer, Nirvana, Usher, falling in love with him—
You shake your head, bringing yourself back to reality and ignoring the sudden heaviness in your heart. “You’ve been well?” You smile.
Jihoon’s eyes soften, followed by a slow, tentative headshake. “I guess? It could be worse.”
There is something in the back of his voice that makes you believe he isn't being entirely truthful. But you choose not to press it.
“I’ve seen you on TV,” Jihoon reveals, clearing his throat as he unwraps what looks like a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. “I watched the interview for the anniversary of Blue Valentine. You looked good.”
The heat creeps up on your neck, and you try your best to ignore it. “Oh?” Your mouth curves into a smirk. “As opposed to now?”
He lets out a snort, shaking his head. “You aren’t roping me into that one.”
“Roping you into what?” You giggle, batting your eyes. “I’m innocent.”
You jointly break into peals of laughter, rumbling from the pit of your soul. For a moment, you’re lighter, brighter than you have felt in days. You haven’t felt the disease of grief for almost an hour, and it’s nice not to have that dark cloud over you. But eventually the laughter dies down, and it’s quiet, and the thoughts in your head become louder, urging you to say what’s on your mind. Jihoon glances at you before looking away, busying himself with his sandwich. You finally take the lid off your coffee, expecting to add your fixings, only to realize it’s already there, with whipped cream on top.
“I didn’t forget how you like your coffee.”
“I see,” you murmur, ignoring the light butterflies in your stomach. “Thanks.”
You eat another donut in silence, watching the birds perch outside the window. They flap their wings happily, without a care in the world. It must be nice to live carefree like that, not being plagued by loss. You gaze at Jihoon, studying him for the first time since you’ve been with him. He’s broader, finer, and has grown into his looks, but some things remain the same. Like the style of his glasses, his truck, and the vinyls that are plastered on the walls. He is still a neat freak, with every spot in this loft clean and items placed with purpose. Hanging on the hook is his letterman jacket from Carats Ridge High, where he played football. Most importantly, he still has the same guitar, castaneous and worn as ever, but still in good shape.
You don’t think much about this town, but you have thought about him and how things ended. You never dwell on it long, though, because then you'd be forced to feel it all, and that makes you vulnerable. You can’t afford that.
“I think I am going to head out,” you say, scooting out of the seat. You glance at him before looking away, rubbing your left temple. “I appreciate the coffee and donuts. You didn’t have to do that.”
Jihoon nods, neatly setting down his sandwich. “I know, but I wanted to.”
You don’t look him in the eyes. You don’t want to acknowledge the current of emotions that are pumping through your heart. You nod in response, grabbing your phone and your shoes. You look around for your dress, but it's nowhere in sight.
“Hey, have you seen my dress—”
“Oh! Wait a minute.”
Jihoon scurries out of his seat, disappearing into a closet you didn’t notice, emerging with your dress, dry and without a wrinkle.
“I put it in the dryer while you sleep,’ he explains. “I figured you might not want wet clothes to take home.”
Your fingers rub against the soft material, the faint smell of fabric linen lifting off the cotton. It brings you back to the first time you were in his truck that summer, one he proudly bought, with the same scent hanging from the rearview window. He said it was the only scent that made sense—guess that hasn’t changed.
“Thank you, again, Jihoon.”
Your hand is on the door, almost turned to pull when it’s pushed open, almost smacking you in the face. Standing on the other side is someone you did not want to see: Jihoon’s mother. She eyes you up and down, her face drawn with disgust and contempt as if you were the vein of her existence.
“Hmm, I see you are back in town,” Mrs. Lee remarks, entering the loft and forcing you to move out of the way. “Are you here to cause trouble again for my boy?”
You are taken aback, letting out a scoff as you regain your composure. “No, Mrs. Lee,” you respond, rather short. “My father is dead.”
She pauses for a second before letting out a hmph, throwing her bag on the futon that was still laid out as a bed. “Jihoon, is this how you live now?
“Mom, what—”
Redirecting her attention back to the living room, she waves him off, as if what he says doesn’t matter. She fusses with the blankets drawn on the futon, throwing them aside and folding the futon back to make it a couch. She mutters under her breath, no doubt obscenities about you. You shouldn’t be surprised by this behavior; this is who she has always been. But it opens up an old wound that hasn’t quite healed, and you are one minor inconvenience away from being ready to let her have it.
“Bye, Jihoon,” you say, shaking your head. “Thank you again.”
“Let me walk you out—”
“No.” You insist, harder than you intended. “I can walk out by myself. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
Though you smile at him softly, you’re screaming inside for space to breathe.
“Okay,” he reluctantly agrees. “Call me when you make it back, please?”
You nod, letting out a small breath. “I’ll get your number from Lola.”
“Okay.”
You stare at each other, the silence stretching a little too long, tension filling the air with unspoken thoughts and truths that you’ve kept locked away in a box that you never planned to acknowledge again. Jihoon looks as if he has something to say, his brows furrowing, and you stand there, waiting to hear what comes out of the end of it.
“Can I ask you something?”
His eyes shift to something softer, familiar, making your stomach flutter. “Yeah, shoot,” you reply cautiously.
He exhales softly, running his fingers through his hair. “Blue Valentine… was that about us?”
Your breath hitches, the question catching you off guard. Blue Valentine was your debut novel, which was met with immediate success. You were #1 on the best-sellers list for a year and are still in the top 20, earning numerous accolades and achieving success you never thought you could. But that book is personal, about two teenagers who met one summer and had the best time of their lives before they parted ways and never saw each other again. You’ve been asked numerous times who the muse was behind the book, and you’ve never answered it directly.
“Jihoon, I—”
“Aren’t you supposed to be leaving?”
Mrs. Lee’s thin voice cuts through the moment, sounding like chalk screeching on a board. Oddly, you appreciate the irony in this; at least you don’t have to reveal the deep, uncomfortable truth.
Shaking your head, you throw a look at Jihoon before peeking into the doorway. “Mrs. Lee, always a pleasure.” You salute sarcastically, shutting the door behind you.
One Summer Ago
“It’s the fifth anniversary of your debut novel, Blue Valentine. How has life changed since then?”
You sat up straighter, adjusting the blazer you wore over your soft satin shirt. The lights were bright, almost blinding, as you tried to look happy and composed on television. You are on Good Morning America, and you were invited to discuss your book with legendary anchor Ginger Snaps.
“I am much busier,” you laughed. “But I am really grateful to all of my readers who have been on this journey with me. I wouldn’t be here without them.”
“True,” Ginger responded. “But your writing, your penmanship even, is one of a kind. You would have been successful regardless.”
You blinked, unsure of what to say to that besides “Thank you.”
“Absolutely,” Ginger beamed while flipping to the next card. “Now Blue Valentine is about two teenagers from opposite worlds who spend one summer together that changes their lives. So many people have been inspired to find their own Blair and Jackson, and some fans have even sent in personal stories (which we will send with you later).”
“Wow,” you said, astonished.
Ginger smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye that gives you pause. “Take us back to when Blue Valentine was being written,” Ginger presses. “Tell us a deep, hard fact that we don’t know.”
You glanced at your agent, Anna, who gave you a tight nod. Your mind suddenly went blank, a little too long. You saw the questions before the interview and even rehearsed your answers. You’ve done this a million times, yet you are struggling to remember a single thing. Your mind traveled back to him, that summer, where you sat at the lake and listened to Jihoon playing his songs on the guitar. That same summer when he kissed you for the first time, and fireworks sparked in your chest. That very summer, when you blossomed like the cornflowers in your yard and truly felt alive.
But thinking of him also brought you pain. It was a harsh reminder that you haven’t connected with anyone on that level, and to be honest, do you even want to? Get to know someone, experience the highs and lows of a relationship, the heartache—
“Y/N?”
You slowly came back to focus, shutting the doors on those memories and throwing away the key. You can’t afford to feel that right now.
“I’m sorry, Ginger.” You gave her your best smile. “Could you repeat the question?”
“Mom, what was that?”
Jihoon walks to his mother, who is busying herself with folding the blanket you laid in. She takes a sniff of it and gags, throwing it on the floor in disgust.
“That perfume is gross,” she begins, waving her hand in front of her face. “You will need to re-wash that blanket three times.”
“Her perfume smelled fine,” Jihoon lets out a resigned sigh. “And you’re avoiding the subject.”
His mother throws him a look before huffing, stepping around him to the kitchen table. “I’m not avoiding anything; I just simply do not want to talk about her.”
Jihoon shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. His mother has always been like this: pushy, haughty, and truly believes no one is good enough for him. He has tried to date, sure, and has had a relationship here and there, but his mother never liked anyone he brought around, especially you. Mrs. Lee hated you for no reason besides that you lived on opposite sides of the tracks. For whatever reason, when you came around, it burned an ember inside of her that just wouldn’t let up. Jihoon never understood it, which led to constant tension between them because he always defended you. She detested that.
“I don’t want her coming back here,” his mother announces, dusting off her hands. “She is nothing but bad news, Jihoon.”
“Firstly, this is my place,” Jihoon scoffs. “And how, Mom?” He pushes back. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Mrs. Lee stops, glancing at you and then looking away. “That apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Jihoon stands there, bewildered and scratching his head. His mother has shown early signs of dementia, which is also another reason why he stayed behind. As much as he wanted to pursue music still, he couldn’t be selfish and leave her.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” he accepts, not wanting to push it further. “Do you still want to go to the farmers’ market in the next town?”
Looking at the set of donuts on the table, she grimaces. “Yes. I want to go before the fresh strawberries and cream cart runs out.”
Grabbing the keys to his truck, she takes one last look at the place, scoffing as she opens the front door. “I’ll be waiting in the car. It’ll serve you right to clean up this mess before we leave.”
The door shuts with a thud, and Jihoon lets out the breath he’d been unironically holding in. He loves his mother, truly, but she leaves him with an anxiety that cracks his chest and fills his stomach with rumbling stones. She doesn’t give him room to breathe or just to be. Her words strike to hurt and are passed off as maternal love. He’s used to it by now, but sometimes, he wants to leave this town and never come back. But he wouldn’t be a good son, and he promised his father he would always protect her.
So he does what’s told, because what else is he going to do?
You’ve been a recluse for the past couple of days. You stayed in your house unless you needed to leave, cleaning it until your fingers were pink and blistered. You undoubtedly smell like lemon-scented cleaning supplies and bleach. You threw away numerous bags of trash and set aside food to donate to the local food pantry. You even mowed the lawn, even though Vernon was supposed to do that. You're sweaty, gross, and in need of a shower—but they’re still so much to do.
The truth is, you have a lot on your mind, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins is keeping you going—otherwise, you would have crashed. Your heart is heavy, and the walls you’ve had built up for so many years are starting to crack. Daddy, Jihoon, this house and the memories, everything is closing in, and it’s suffocating at times. You look at the living room and remember the times Daddy tried to do your hair so you would look nice for school, or when Monday night wrestling was on, and he would order pizza as a weekly ritual. The old stove in the kitchen, where Daddy used to make dinner on the nights he was home. Everything reminds you of him, and throwing Jihoon in the mix, you want to run into the woods and disappear.
Whether you are ready to admit it or not, Jihoon has always been in the back of your mind, and somewhere deep in your heart, buried under a bed of budding flowers. Every once in a while, when you’re in your bed and everything is quiet, you think of the time you shared with him and the warmth that filled your soul. It was young love, sure, but it was still love, and the only time you have ever truly felt it. Experienced it with free will. When you left this town, you hoped to continue, and it festered into a stronger, deeper love that lasted forever.
But it didn’t end like that, and that’s okay, you guess.
You collapse on your childhood bed, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your head down, catching your breath. You still have to go through your rooms and decide what to keep or give away, but first, you need a shower.
“Hello?”
Your attention is on the door, the sound of heels clacking on the hardwood floors you just finished shining. Irritation bubbles in your chest, but when Lola comes into view, it evaporates quickly.
“I didn’t know you were coming by,” you say, pulling off your cleaning gloves.
“Well, you would have known if you answered your phone,” Lola ripostes, raising an eyebrow as she looks around the house. “I told you Vernon and the boys were going to clean this up for you.”
“I know that,” you answer. “But I just needed to keep busy.” You sniffle, the cleaning products making your nose run. “I have a lot on my mind, you know?”
Lola’s face softens, a gentle half-smile appearing. “I know, Blue.”
She sits next to you on the bed, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. “I came to get you out of here, anyway. You are coming to eat with us.”
You knew what “us” meant: Lola, Vernon, and the twins. You wanted a day to yourself, to think, to clean more, and to avoid the world. To not have to see the pity looks you get when you walk to the courthouse or go into Jollibee’s to get a burger and fries. But you don’t want to hurt Lola’s feelings, and you know she means well.
“I need to shower and change first,” you say, looking down at your worn, bleach-stained black shirt and sweats. “I feel gross.”
“Do what you need to do,” Lola nods, plopping off the bed. “I assume that the food in the container needs to go to the community center? We’ll drop it off on the way.”
She leaves you to your thoughts and privacy, shutting the door softly behind you. Blowing a raspberry, you begrudgingly get off the bed, tearing off your shirt and the rest of your clothes, throwing them in the corner. The cool air from the a/c hits the back of your legs like a nice reprieve. You’ve been on autopilot for days; you are slowly starting to feel it, finally—the small aches in your knees and hands, the constant dull pain in your lower back. Maybe you should have let the gang clean the house after all.
You study yourself in the mirror for the first time in days; dark circles surround your eyes from the lack of sleep, and your skin is dull, begging for hydration. Your naked body shines in the golden light of the sun, the most light you have let touch you in days. You’re falling down a rabbit hole, deep into the wonderland of avoidance, and the chasm of you not giving a fuck grows wider with each passing day.
“Shit,” you murmur to yourself.
You step into the shower, letting the water pressure hit your lower back until it goes numb. The steam quickly fills the small bathroom as you inhale, filling your lungs. The tension slowly leaves your body, as if you are floating in a dreamy oasis, standing there for a while, letting your mind go blank as you slowly turn off your emotions. You could do this forever—stand here and be non-existent to the world, and get the peace you truly want. No pain from the constant grief that cuts you open like a fresh wound, or anger from being back at the one place you hate the most. Most importantly, no deep late-night thoughts of what could have been with Jihoon.
You don’t allow yourself to think of that summer often. You try to let the past be the past, move forward, and enjoy your success. You’ve even tried dating, getting under someone new, to get rid of the faint nagging in your heart when you think of him. You ignore the way your heart beats when you think of the times at the music store, sitting on the counter and listening to Pearl Jam on the vinyl. Or the rush you felt when you jumped in the lake together, hand in hand, fully clothed and not caring about how you looked. The silly songs he sang in your ear or the way his fingers ran through your hair—
Knock! Knock!
“Blue, are you alright?”
Lola’s voice snaps back into reality, a jarring mix of white tiled walls and the smell of wet plastic outside a blue shower cocooning you from the rest of the world. Pressing your forehead against the cold, slick tile, you exhale a breath that feels far too heavy.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
There is a brief pause, nothing but the running water hitting the porcelain tub as the sun shifts west. Then finally she responds, “Okay. Change of plans: Vernon is bringing the kids here.”
Slight irritation bubbles in your chest at the change of plans, but you will live. “Okay,” you breathe. “I’ll be out in a few.”
A few minutes into twenty as you wash your body and stand under the water until it turns cold. Your mind is full of noise, an annoying static, and you'd give anything to return to that dreamy oasis. You want to call it off, tell Lola to go home, and see her another day. The adrenaline has worn off, and you want to fall into your bed and sleep until next week, when all of this will be over, and you can leave this place for good. You haven’t known peace since you got that call, and you crave it so much it’s cemented in your bones.
Turning off the shower, you grab a towel while refusing to look at the mirror again. You know what state you’re in, and you don’t give a damn about fixing it. You dry yourself from head to toe and throw on the most comfortable clothes you have, sweats, and an old Spice Girls t-shirt. You’re on a mission to reclaim your life, your peace, and you swing the door open to say exactly that.
“AUNTIE BLUE!!”
Two little girls sprint down the hall and tackle you on both sides, making you falter back into your room. Lola’s twins, Amethyst and Ruby, hug you tightly, and you can’t help but lean down and pull them close, your eyes prickling with tears. You have met the twins before when Lola came to visit you in New York a few times, and when she was pregnant, she asked you to be their godmother. You love them like an aunt would their niece, and you would never want to hurt them in any way. A deep shame floods your body at the thought of sending Lola home without regard for them. Their happy smiles and excited looks seep a light into your black heart, and you are grateful.
“Why are you crying?” Amethyst asks, pulling away slowly. “Did I do something wrong?”
You shake your head, the weight of shame deepening in your chest. “Oh no,” you assure her, brushing her little curls back with a gentle smile. “I had a really long day, but I am so happy to see you two.”
You gaze at Ruby, who studies you carefully, a slow smile spreading on her face. Out of the two, Amethyst is the outgoing twin with Lola’s spunk, whereas Ruby is quieter and more observant with Vernon’s eyes. You can see it now, how she looks you over without much to say.
“Don’t tell me they got all the hugs.”
You know that voice from anywhere, glancing slowly at Vernon, who is standing in the doorway with three boxes of pizza and wings. You, Vernon, and Lola were a trio growing up—nothing could separate you all, even when Lola and Vernon started dating. Vernon is your best friend, too, in a way, though you don’t talk to him as much as Lola. But your relationship is the type where you don’t have to talk all the time. What you all went through, all those years ago, created a bond that could never be broken.
Releasing the twins from your grasp, you walk over to help Vernon with the boxes. Despite his dark brown hair being cut into one of those modern mullets, he still looks the same, even down to his signature boots and jean jacket. He’s always been lean, tall, and has a face that should be in magazines, not slumming it out here on the Southside. But that was never his style; he’s always viewed Carats Ridge as his home, and with a successful bar, Shadow, that has been passed down through generations in his family, he never plans on leaving. He reminds you of Daddy, in a way.
“Hi Vern,” you greet him with a hug. “I dig the cut.”
“Yeah?” Vernon responds with a slight smirk. “Tell Lola Bunny over there that. She hates it.”
You glance at Lola, who rolls her eyes playfully, and an unexpected giggle erupts out of you, taking you by surprise. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you’re filled with uncontrollable laughter, tears in your eyes over such a silly joke. This has always been the dynamic among the three of you. It reminds you of the times when the three of you would come here and hang out with Daddy, eating pizzas, watching The Simpsons reruns, or playing games. The nostalgia is strong and fleeting, making you feel lighter than you have in days.
“Are you okay?” Vernon asks, exchanging a nervous glance with Lola. You sniffle, trying to hold it together from the laughter, the irony of it all. The kids have gone into the backyard, the screen door swinging shut with a slam.
“I’m not okay at all,” you chortle, the shaky breath of laughter dying in your throat. “I’m completely fucked up.”
Saying it out loud shatters you. The pain cracks your composure, and you shatter, crying from the depths of your soul. Vernon pulls you into a hug, letting you sob loudly into his shirt. You are feeling everything, everywhere, and all at once. Through the haze, you hear him tell Lola to check on the girls as he hugs you tighter, holding you together while your chest caves in.
“Let it all out, Blue,” Vernon says gently. “I got you.”
The truth is, no one prepares you for losing a parent so majestically, and how it flips your world upside down. They don’t warn you about how grief is an ugly parasite that eats at you painfully until you’re empty. They don’t tell you that the misery will crush you until you can’t breathe and your world turns black. Your candle, your guiding light, is snuffed out. How do you get that back?
Ten Summers Ago
“Vern! Pass me that spliff, will ya?”
It was after midnight, and you were lying in the back of Vernon’s truck with him and Lola, looking at the stars that decorate the sky. It was supposed to be a shower of shooting stars tonight, and you wanted to see this once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. It was seventy degrees, and the breeze was just right as you’re sitting on the other side of Sinbrook Forest, in front of the field. Taking the joint from Vernon’s hands, you inhaled until your throat burned something fierce, coughing heavily while the others laughed.
“Careful there, Blue. I don’t want your dad stringing me up a pole.”
You lolled up, throwing a look at Vernon while handing the spliff to Lola. “I’m fine,” you breathed. “It just went down the wrong pipe.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Vernon teased, falling into a peal of laughter.
You reached over to pinch him when you heard a crunch of leaves, stopping you dead in your tracks. Lola and Vernon sat up suddenly, turning off the music on the speaker and grabbing a flashlight. Your heart raced as you tried to see through the dark, squinting your eyes at the figure moving down the field. Vernon tapped the flashlight hard on his leg, the light flickering a few times before finally illuminating the darkness. You noticed the familiar faded jean jacket first, the tension in your body leaving you slowly as you recognized the person in front of you.
“Jihoon?”
He stopped, looking in your direction as he covered his eyes from the light. You called his name again, and before you knew it, you were hopping out of the bed of the truck and walking towards him. You were going to the music store a lot more often, but not just to buy music or DVDs. Sometimes you just came by to hang out, listened to undiscovered vinyls with Jihoon, and talked about what you like about each record. You quickly realized Jihoon wasn’t as stuck-up as everyone else on the Northside, and you started to become friends. His mother was sometimes there and gave you a stink eye, but it’s nothing you aren't used to. You still felt the shock in the center of your palm from the first day you met. The feeling is ingrained in you now, and it’s hard to ignore.
You finally reached him, with the light of your phone in your hand, wading through the knee-length grass as it shifts with the wind. “Hey there,” you greeted him. “‘Didn’t know you liked stargazing.”
“I didn’t know you were into stars either,” Jihoon quipped, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Smells like you are having a get-together.”
You felt the heat creep onto your neck, painfully aware of his reference to the smell of weed on your clothes. “Yeah, well, what’s a party without party favors, you know?”
You turned back to Lola and Vernon, who had the flashlight adjusted enough to illuminate the truck. They were locked into an intense make-out session, and you grimaced, knowing better than to interrupt that.
“Well, I guess I’ll be watching the stars with you then,” you decided, turning your focus back to Jihoon. “That’s not a problem, right?”
Jihoon was taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “Do you usually invite yourself to other people’s activities?”
A giggle bubbled through your throat, amused by his question. “No,” you answered honestly. “But I usually make them more fun.”
Walking towards the middle of the field, you helped Jihoon unfold the blanket he was holding and lay it flat on the grass. The sky has somehow gotten brighter, a milky blue never seen before in this town. You marvel at it, your eyes twinkling like the stars above. It’s more beautiful than what you could describe in your journal.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You murmured.
“Yeah. It is.”
You glanced at Jihoon, only to find his gaze had shifted from the sky to you. When your eyes lock, a warm tide rushes through you, making your stomach flutter with the sensation of flying. This isn’t the first time you have felt this, being around him, but here under the night sky, it’s overwhelmingly prominent.
“Do you come here often?” You posed, drawing a circle on the blanket. “I come here a lot, and I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Jihoon shakes his head, folding his legs and resting his hands on his knees. “No,” he responded. “I usually go down to the lake, but I didn’t feel like being by the water tonight.”
Sugarmore Lake is the only lake in Carats Ridge that runs north to south through the town. It’s the unofficial ‘Switzerland ‘ of the town, where everyone managed to get along and enjoy the lake. Not that a fight or two hasn’t broken out once or twice there, but it’s an unspoken rule that everyone leaves their bad vibes at the entrance.
“I see.” You nodded, leaning back on your elbows. “I don’t go there much, and the last time I went I was fishing with my dad.”
Silence fell between you for a moment, the only sound heard coming from the grass blades moved by the slow breeze. It was comfortable to sit next to Jihoon in a different environment. “Well,” Jihoon muttered. “Maybe you should come with me sometime.”
Your eyes danced at him, curiously, a slow smile spreading on your face. “Are you asking me on a date, Jihoon?”
His laugh tickled your chest, and you couldn’t help but join in. What a silly thing to assume. But then he slowed, and he looked at you seriously, his eyes softening under the low light.
“What if I was?” Jihoon said slowly, looking nervous. “Would it be a bad thing?”
You looked at him with regard, realizing he is serious. You’ve never been asked out on a date before. You’ve been on one or two and have experiences, sure. But no one has formally asked you, at least not in this way. The truth is, you like Jihoon. You liked seeing him at the music store and listening to 60s rock. You liked arguing with him about why disco is overly hated or how 90s grunge is one of the best genres of all time. You loved sitting in the chair while Jihoon strummed his guitar, humming a song he'd come up with the night before. You enjoyed his company. You enjoyed him.
“I don’t think it would be a bad thing at all,” you whispered.
Jihoon smiled at you warmly, his hand shifting towards yours as it brushes against your thumb. A familiar zap is felt between you two, and you throw him a look, rolling your eyes playfully.
“Here you go, shocking me again,” you teased him.
“Oh, please, it’s from the blanket and the stars aligning—”
“Oh, you’re an astronomer now, Jihoon?” you quipped. “Please, tell me more.”
“Well, obviously not, but—”
“—What are you two yapping about?”
Vernon and Lola appeared on your right, holding a blanket and what’s left of the weed. He stumbled before he fell, reaching over you and handing it to Jihoon, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Come on, Lee, take a puff,” Vernon goaded him. “Join the fiesta under the stars.”
Rolling your eyes, you turned to Jihoon. “You don’t have to—”
Your words died down in your throat, watching Jihoon take the small blunt and smoke it. Your mouth parted in shock, watching him inhale and exhale the smoke from his mouth expertly, forming a perfect ‘O.’
“Oh! He gets down!” Lola cheered, raising her fist in the air. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Jihoon chuckled, handing the blunt back to Vernon. “I’m not a square, you know. I know my way around a joint or two.”
“Touche,” Vernon responded, leaning back against the blanket. “My bad. I didn’t know the Northie had it in him.”
Gazing up at the sky, you saw the stars twinkle, brighter than you have ever seen. Then one shooting star came down, followed by two, and then a series. You gawked in awe, a tear streaming down your cheek as you watched the phenomenon happening in front of you. Who knows if you will ever see something so wondrous ever again?
Jihoon’s hand covered you, and instead of a spark, you felt a warmth that made your skin prickle. His skin is soft, you smell his cologne, and the magnetism in the air pulls you closer to him, almost touching shoulder to shoulder. You had so much to say, and it overloads your brain. It’s hard to contextualize anything else you feel other than one word: happy.
“So, the lake?” Jihoon asked, beholding the show in front of him.
Smiling softly, you answered him. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Jihoon never thought he would see you again, and now you’ve taken over his every thought.
Ever since you stayed at his apartment, he has been replaying the memories you have together. Every corner of the music store reminds him of you, with headphones over your ears and bobbing your head to whatever album you haven’t listened to before. It’s been a few days since you’ve spoken, with you letting him know you made it home. He’s wanted to reach out, his fingers flicking to your contact in the moments where it’s quiet, but his thoughts get the best of him. It’s been so long—would you even want that?
Jihoon has seen your interviews here and there and heard the news about you from Vernon. It’s funny how he and Vernon became close when you left town, realizing they had a lot more in common than recreational weed. When Jihoon started teaching music at the community center on the Southside, Jihoon got to know your dad better. He never understood why his mother didn’t like him—he thought he was cool, a fierce leader, and a protector of the youth. He gave Jihoon words of encouragement when his father passed, and when his health started to decline, Jihoon offered to take him running errands if he needed it. Maybe, subconsciously, it was Jihoon’s way of staying close to you, through him.
The thunder rumbles outside, shaking the windows in his loft. Jihoon watches the lightning strike near Sinbrook Forest, the wind picking up, and trees thrashing around violently. Shaking his head and sighing softly, he picks up his worn guitar and strums a soft tune that echoes in the living room, a melancholic melody that has been stuck in his head for the past twenty-four hours.
I remember when I realized I had feelings for you
We were riding in my truck, driving down to the lake
With the windows down, sunlight turning gold on your face
I knew then what I was feeling was not a mistake
I miss you
It’s always been you.
You’ve been here two weeks, and time isn’t going fast enough.
You handled all the estate stuff for your father, retrieving the death certificate and signing the necessary paperwork to ensure the house was sold and everything else was in order. Vernon and the Zodiacs came to help you clean up the rest of the house, repair the childhood swing set in your backyard, and give the house a fresh coat of paint. Little by little, the pieces of your childhood are taken out, and you aren’t sure how to feel. Relieved? Sad? Numb? Your emotions are a clusterfuck, and that’s not even throwing Jihoon into the mix.
You are grateful for them—the Zodiacs, this community, for coming through for you in your time of need in the name of your father. Your relationship with the idea of being a Zodiac legacy is complicated, but you aren’t ashamed of where you came from or who your dad raised you to be.
“What’s on your mind, Blue?”
Vernon stands next to you, beer in hand, as he supervises the younger crew loading the last bit of furniture into a box truck. He takes a swig, the sweat dripping from his forehead and down his neck on this unusually warm day.
“Just watching the place I grew up change right before my eyes.” You let out a heavy sigh. You eye the glistening beer in his hand. “I see nothing’s changed. Is it noon yet?”
“It’s noon somewhere, Bluebird,” he responds, taking another gulp.
You shake your head, chuckling and folding your arms. One of the older gentlemen, nicknamed Pop, carries out buckets of paint from around the house. His boots squish in the wet grass, walking towards you and setting them down with a whistle.
“Everything is all painted up, Blue,” Pop announces. He turns his attention to Vernon. “It’s a little too early to be celebrating, don’t you think?
Your brows furrow in confusion, darting between Pop and Vernon. “Celebrating what? Is Lola pregnant again?”
“What?” Vernon’s eyes went wide, followed by a dry nervous laugh. “God no. Lola and I can barely handle the two that we have.” He suddenly goes quiet, looking down at his feet, almost ashamed. “The uh.. crowning ceremony is tonight.”
It takes a while to register what he means, but once it clicks, it’s like you’re hit with a heavy stone as you’re caught off guard. The crowning ceremony takes place when a new leader is appointed. It takes place at the Viper, and while the ceremony itself is short, it involves lots of booze and partying afterward to honor the new king of the Zodiacs. You know that your father couldn’t be the leader forever.
“So…” your voice shakes, trying to hold it together. “I take it you are going to be the new leader then?”
“Y-yeah,” Vernon mutters, kicking an imaginary stone from his foot.
When you finally glance at Vernon, the tears come down fierce and hot. You know you shouldn’t feel hurt, you understand this is the way of things, but it’s not his father who just died. It’s not Vernon’s home that is being sold and turned into something you don’t even recognize. Most importantly, it’s not his heart that is being trampled on a thousand times over.
“Blue, I—”
“Don’t worry about it, Vernon,” you sniffle, furiously wiping your wet eyes. “I’m happy for you, truly. I know you will lead the Zodiacs well.”
You walk away before he can respond, the harsh sunlight beaming on the top of your head. You’re seething with anger, a sense of betrayal stirring in your gut. Your father is barely settled six feet under, and he is already being replaced. It feels so fast, too soon. You can't wrap your mind around Daddy being replaced—just like that.
You walk without a clear destination in sight in an angry haze, just with a drive to get away from everyone and think. Cars whiz by you, passengers looking at you curiously, but you couldn't care less. Your head is humming with static, unable to get a coherent thought together that isn’t laced with profanities. Being mad as hell is an understatement.
Your stomach aches from the anger, but you push through as the sweat swims down your neck. You cross the train tracks that separate the north and the south, and your throat feels like sandpaper, begging for a drop of water to take you out of your misery. But you keep walking, face hot until you see the familiar sign that says “Lee’s Records Store”, red lights illuminated in front of the yellow and white building. It wasn’t your intention to come here, but your body feels more at ease as you come closer to it, the static in your head lessening as you think about listening to music and mellowing out.
Pulling the doors open, the cool air hits your face, and you exhale, feeling relieved. Your eyes scan the door, looking for Jihoon, but instead, you are met with the scornful eyes of Mrs. Lee, standing behind the counter.
“What are you doing here?!” She demands, the disdain clear in her voice.
“I was looking for Jihoon,” you respond, an eyebrow raised. “Is he around?”
“No, he’s not,” Mrs. Lee answers shortly.
You nod slowly, thumbing through the albums to your left. You pick up Nevermind by Nirvana, your thumb caressing the cover's plastic. The first time you listened to this album was here, with Jihoon, sitting on top of the counter. You will never forget the grittiness of Kurt Cobain’s voice blasted through the speakers, the guitar riffs that gave you life, and the drums that stayed in your head well into the rest of the day. It was one of your happiest moments.
“I think you should leave,” Mrs. Lee says suddenly, snapping you out of your reverie. You observe her waddling from the counter, walking towards you with determination. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Yeah,” you scoff, walking around her. “I’m sure Jihoon would disagree.”
A tug on your arm yanks you back, and a nail digs into your forearm. You glance at Mrs. Lee in shock as you quickly pull your arm away. “I told you to leave!” Mrs. Lee shouts, pointing at the door. “All of you Southside people are the same, coming over here, causing chaos, and not caring who gets hurt in the process.”
You stare at her incredulously, feeling wetness drip from your arm. Glancing down, you see the blood trailing down from her nails penetrate your skin. “Lady, what the fuck is your problem—”
Her face gets redder, the anger mounting with each second. "You’re just like him, you know—you come in and take away people’s joy and then leave. You don’t care about my boy and how much you hurt him. You were trash then, and I praised God every day when you left.”
You’re rooted in place, stunned into silence. A discomfort spreads in your stomach, and you refuse to accept what you're hearing. “When you say him, I know you aren’t talking about my father—”
“Yes. Him,” Mrs. Lee sneers. “He was shit then, and I suppose he’s being turned into shit now, six feet under—”
The slap echoed off the walls of the store, your hand stinging as if a wave of fire washed over your knuckles. A red imprint was visible on her face, her glasses askew and about to fall off. You heave, an anger surging through you like no other, your other finger pointing in her face.
“I don’t know what your deal is with me, or my father,” you breathe heavily. “But if you ever disrespect us again, I will snap your neck and throw you into the fucking lake.”
Her laugh bellows throughout the store, her smirk triumphant and all knowing, pissing you off more. "There she is," her voice laced with something sinister. "I knew the Southside trash were still in you, girl."
The front door rings open before you can respond, and there stands Jihoon, holding a large brown bag from the pharmacy. He scans both of you, the smile on his face disappearing quickly at the scene. Shaking your head, you walk around Mrs. Lee towards the door, the adrenaline you had earlier waning quickly as you take in everything that has occurred in the last day.
“What happened?” Jihoon asks, pulling you aside. “You’re bleeding.”
You beckon your head towards his mother, unwilling to look at her without seeing red. “She was disrespectful, and I reacted,” you say simply. “I will not tolerate her bullshit for my father or me anymore, whatever her imaginary beef is with us.”
Jihoon lets out a deep sigh, raking his fingers through your hair. “You’re bleeding. Can you please go upstairs to my place? I have Band-Aids there.”
You gaze into his eyes, your walls breaking down little by little. You are tired, frustrated, and in need of a hard drink. You also feel Jihoon’s sincerity, and you are tired of fighting—your day has been hard enough as it is.
Slipping out of his arm, you head towards the door, grabbing the nearest CD nearby.
“Fine. I’m taking this as my compensation for damages.”
Jihoon observes the state of the store and his mother, putting the pieces of what happened together. His mother’s face has a crimson handprint, her clothing is disheveled, and her glasses hang from her face. She rants and raves, her shrill voice echoing around the store. Snapping out of it, he quickly turns the sign on the door to “closed”, locking the doors with a swift click.
Walking over to her, he gently adjusts her glasses and slips them over her teary eyes.
“Oh, Jihoon,” she cries, letting her shoulders hang in defeat. “That woman is the devil. I don’t want you seeing her ever again!”
It hurts him to see his mother so crestfallen and upset. Jihoon does not appreciate his mother being hit, and a slow ember burns in his chest. His mother is a lot of things, but that's his mother. If it were anyone else, they would have been dealt with already.
But he also knows you, even if it’s been years, and you would have never laid a hand on her. What the hell happened?
He ushers her to the back office, sits her down, and digs through the top shelf, pulling out a first-aid kit. Retrieving a medical wrap, he takes a cold pack from the mini fridge he had stored in the small space, then wraps the cloth around the pack until it’s completely covered. Pressing it on her face, his mother let out a low hiss.
“I want to press charges,” she announces, leaning back into the office chair. “She had no right to hit me.”
Jihoon shakes his head, feeling tension in his right temple. “Mom, I saw the blood on her arm, and it doesn’t look like it came from you,” he discloses, sitting back. “I need you to tell me what happened.”
His mother shifts in her seat, gripping the ice pack in her hand. Her eyes shift nervously, taking a beat too long before she answers. “She comes in the store, looking for you, and I said you weren’t there,” she begins. “Then she starts raving at me, and I asked her to leave… then she slapped me.”
Jihoon nods slowly, searching his mother’s eyes for confirmation, anything that says the truth. Her eyes focus everywhere but him, and it sets an uneasy feeling in his chest he can’t ignore. “So she just slapped you for asking you to leave?”
“Yes.” She nods fervently. “That’s right. That girl is nuts! I don’t care how many books she writes.”
“What about the blood on her arm?” he probes, the imagery clear in his mind.
“It was already there when she came in.” She shrugs.
Her voice fades on as Jihoon zones out, lost in his turbulent thoughts. His mother has said worse things to you in the past, and you’ve never resorted to violence or even raised your voice. Why would you haul and hit her all of a sudden? It doesn’t smell right.
The small monitor that hosts the store's cameras shines under the fluorescent light. He stares until an idea dawns on him like a warm glow. Jihoon moves before he realizes what is happening, opening the work laptop and logging into the security systems. The recordings from the last hour come into view, his index finger thumbing over the mouse pad before clicking play.
“Jihoon? What are you doing?” his mother asks suddenly.
He doesn’t respond—he fast forwards until you arrive at the store. Jihoon watches intently, the audio at max volume as he listens to every word. His mind turns cold, and his chest constricts lightly, watching his mother dig her nails into your skin until it bled. He notices the shock and hurt on your face as you pull away, piecing the missing holes in his mother’s story. Jihoon glances at his mother, who looks ready to pop out of her seat.
“Jihoon—”
He raises his hand as he focuses on the screen, watching in horror.
“When you say him, I know you aren’t talking about my father—”
“He was shit then, and I suppose he’s being turned into shit now, six feet under—”
Jihoon jumps up as your hand connects with his mother’s face, watching her stumble back in shock as you give her a piece of your mind. Disappointment isn’t even the word to describe how he feels. He still doesn’t agree with his mother being slapped—but you were provoked, and that was conveniently left out of her story.
“Jihoon, I can explain—”
‘What is there to explain?” he snaps, pointing at the screen. “You lied to me and had me ready to go up there and defend your honor.” His chest rises and falls in his hurt as he paces back and forth. “How could you say that?”
Her mouth opens and shuts, at a loss for words. Jihoon has never raised his voice at her, let alone been angry. All his life, he has dropped everything to appease his mother, and it’s cost him great things—opportunities, relationships, and most importantly, you.
“God, Mom, you’re unbelievable,” Jihoon laments, shaking his head. “You are cruel, can’t you see that? You have been nothing but unkind to her ever since she started coming around. What has Blue done to you to make her hate her? Why can’t you get to know her? I’ve had it with this Northside vs. Southside bullshit.”
“Lee Jihoon!” His mother astonishes him. “Watch your language?”
Looking at her incredulously, he scoffs hard. “You just lied to me and made someone bleed, and you want to get on me about my fucking LANGUAGE?”
Jihoon’s cup is running over, and he can’t contain it. It’s more than just her treatment of Blue; it’s the infantilization of him and the refusal to allow him to be who he wants to be. It’s always been about what she wants, and what he thinks is best—never about his desires and his dreams.
“Jihoon, I’m sorry.”
He gazes at her slowly, the anger in his chest escalating to hurt. The walls feel like they are closing in, and there is only one thing on his mind—he needs to leave.
Shaking his head, he grabs his keys and his wallet.
“Lock up on your way out.”
You pace back and forth in Jihoon’s apartment, biting your nails as you revisit everything that has happened. The blood on your arm has dried, and you haven’t bothered to wipe it off. Mrs. Lee is a lot of things, and after that encounter, you wish her nothing but an economy middle seat straight to hell. You’ve always thought she was a grade A bitch for how she treated you back then, but you’ve always bit your tongue, not wanting to ruin your relationship with Jihoon, and to keep the peace. You’ve talked to your dad about it, of course, and he’s never had much to say, aside from “I see she hasn’t changed much” and “if she says anything out of line, you come get me.” She had said plenty of things then that were out of line, but you kept those details to yourself, partly afraid of what your dad would do.
But now you are done sparing her, especially after what she said about your father. Fuck her.
You hear the door open before you turn, watching Jihoon storm in with his face red and contorted with anger. Your breath stutters as his chest rises and falls, unsure how to handle this side of him. You’ve never seen him angry, much less at you.
“Jihoon, before you go on, let me explain—”
“No. Don’t,” Jihoon cuts in, raising his index finger in the air. “I have two things to say.”
A slow sting steeps closer to your heart as you stand there anxiously. “A-Alright,” you sputter. “Go on.”
“Don’t you ever put your hands on my mother again,” Jihoon states, his voice tight with conviction. “That is my mother. If it weren’t because it’s you, I would be handling this a lot differently.”
Your lips purse together, a small sliver of guilt puddling in your chest. All you can do is nod as Jihoon’s expression softens, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips.
“Second: I’m sorry,” Jihoon says, finally looking at you. “I saw what happened on the cameras. What my mother said was beyond disrespectful, and she shouldn’t have hurt you and provoked you like that.”
You slow blink, registering what he is saying. Your eyes well up, the tears falling before you can stop them. You turn quickly, avoiding his gaze as you sob in your hands. You are tired of holding on, trying to be strong for everyone, not to be seen as this broken woman who lost her dad. This town has brought you nothing but hell, and the sooner you can wrap up Daddy’s affairs, the sooner you can go back to your life.
Jihoon’s arms wrap around you, holding you tight as you sob. His fresh linen scent is strong but comforting, and slowly but surely, the tears stop. Turning you around, he gently wipes the tears from your face, studying you until he is done, his fingers tracing down to your mouth.
You bite your lip nervously, unable to say anything else. Your head spins, you are exhausted, and you want nothing more than to lie down. You also want to be held, comforted, and to feel the warmth of someone who cares about you, without any hidden agenda.
“Thanks.” You sniffle, your voice raspy and shaky. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry for hitting your mom, but I understand where you are coming from.”
Jihoon nods, caressing your cheek. “I know. I wouldn’t want you to lie to me, anyway.”
A half smile creeps on your face, gazing into his eyes. Unexpected thunder rattles in the distance, startling you. Turning to the windows, the clear blue sky has been replaced by dark ivory clouds, with lightning striking in several places. Looking back at Jihoon, you step out of his embrace, scratching your arm that still has dried blood on it.
“I should probably go back to the house,” you announce, clearing your throat. “It looks like a bad storm is coming.”
“Blue, don’t be silly,” Jihoon says, shaking his head with a slight frown. “You’re staying here.”
“What?” You jerk your head back. “No, I can make it back—”
“God damn Blue, quit being so stubborn,” Jihoon snaps, running a rough hand through his hair. “It’s too dangerous out there, and I would be sick if you had to walk home in that.” Taking a deep breath, he presses his palms together in a gesture of desperate plea.
“Please, just stay the night. “
You mull over this proposition, gazing into his eyes for any reason to say no. You’re a stubborn bull, you know that, and you know you can make it home, in rain, heat, or snow. But as the thunder booms again, shaking the windows, you let out a heavy sigh, realizing you will not win this round.
“Fine. I’ll stay.”
Jihoon’s eyes light up like a beacon in the sea, and you involuntarily smile in return. Unfortunately, your walls are too beaten down to mask how you feel.
“Are you hungry?”
Your eyes shift nervously, acknowledging the ache in your stomach from the lack of food you have had all day. Adrenaline has kept you full, but you realize you should have had more than just a coffee at Jolibee’s.
“Yeah,” you respond, biting your lip. “I could eat something.”
Jihoon nods, heading into the kitchen. He rummages through his fridge, pulling out different deli meats, cheeses, and a hoagie roll.
“You still like Italian subs, right?” Jihoon asks, glancing at you.
You smile softly, your body relaxing as you watch him assemble your favorite sandwich. “Yeah, I do.”
The rain beats on the window, heavy, angry pellets dropping outside. The light flickers momentarily, stopping Jihoon in his tracks. Glancing at each other nervously, you step closer to the window and look at the damage outside. There wasn’t any mention of a major storm tonight; just light rain that was only supposed to last for an hour. The storm rages outside, tree limbs flying through the air and people scurrying into buildings to stay dry. The thunder booms again, followed by a lightning strike that hits the building's fuse box, shutting the power off completely.
‘Well, there goes that,” Jihoon says, followed by a clap of his hands. “I have some flashlights in here that can help us out.”
Turning on the light on his phone, he walks towards the closet by the front door, shuffling through a box until he pulls out two black flashlights. He places one in your hands, your fingers brushing against each other, creating a spark that makes you both jump back. The first time was a coincidence, the second time is suspicious, but this is the third time—and this has never happened with anyone else.
“I see you still have your powers, Electro,” you tease him, rubbing your hand on your shirt.
“You’re still fixated on that,” Jihoon dismissively says, jokingly rolling his eyes. “Maybe it’s you who’s shocking me. Have you considered that?”
“I doubt it,” you reply, blowing a raspberry. “Why does this only happen with you? Riddle me that.”
Jihoon doesn’t respond. He instead taps his flashlight until it turns on, teasingly shining it in your face.
“Hey, you jerk,” you laugh. “I can’t see.”
You raise your hand over your eyes from the light, reaching out to him with the other, and move to grab the flashlight from his hand. You miss and grab his wrist by mistake, pulling him close to you. Jihoon finally lowers the light; the luminance bounces off the wooden floors and illuminates the living room. The smiles on your faces slowly disappear, the storm rolling on in the background like an ambiance.
“Sit with me?” you ask softly, pointing towards the futon.
“Yeah, let me put the food up,” he murmurs, retreating to the kitchen.
Plopping on the futon, you close your eyes, recalling the day’s events in your mind. Mrs. Lee, Vernon, the crowning ceremony—all of this alone would give anyone a major headache. You pinch the space between your eyebrows, rubbing it gently until the pain fades, the storm slowly fading in the background. A wet cloth suddenly brushes against your left arm, making you jolt.
“Relax,” Jihoon says softly. “I’m wiping the blood off your arm.”
Your body relaxes as your breathing slows, and you lean back against the futon. “Thank you.”
He mumbles something inaudible, adjusting the flashlight on his lap to look at your arm and removing every stain of crimson until it’s gone. He takes the band-aid he had placed between his fingers and tears the thin paper off, placing it carefully where you were wounded. Jihoon’s thumb presses against it softly, making you wince.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s fine,” you whisper.
Glancing at him, you inch closer, as if something is pulling you together at all costs. The air is thick, your heart and your mind on the same page for once, begging and wanting what’s been in the back of your mind for ten summers now. His hand places over yours, familiar and warm, just as you remembered it.
“Do you think, if what happened didn’t happen all those years ago, you would have stayed?”
You think about the question carefully, searching in your heart for the truth. Smiling softly, you gaze at him again, tightening your hand in his. “Maybe?” you answer, your voice shaking. “Or maybe you could have come with me, and we would have had different lives.”
You lay your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers with his. You feel comfortable and safe with Jihoon, and for the first time in a long time, at peace.
Ten Summers Ago
Your father was accused of murder.
Mayor Peppersnitch was found dead in a tub full of water and blood, and it wasn’t an accident. The mayor’s mansion was riddled with broken glass and bullet holes, a gnarly crime scene that shook the quiet, shady town. The FBI swarmed every corner of this town, infiltrating your fave hideouts and monitoring the hallways in your schools as if the killer was going to show up at the school the next day. It was madness for those couple of weeks, and it escalated further when your dad was carted out of your house in handcuffs, shoved in the back of the police car, and taken somewhere hours away. You didn’t understand it; you and your father were home, and you told them that. Why is all of a sudden the number one suspect?
Apparently, someone had a tip that they saw your father and his motorcycle leaving the mansion in the dead of night, though there was no proof. You had to find a lawyer who was willing to take your case, and if it weren’t for a camera from a neighbor’s house that showed your dad was home at the time of the murder, he would have been thrown in prison for life. That month he was gone was hell, and everyone who wasn’t a Zodiac or Jihoon treated you like some pariah, as if you were wrong for defending your father. You weren’t welcome anywhere on the Northside, and people made an effort to cross the other street if you were coming. You felt lonely, abandoned, and most importantly, hurt.
The worst part about all of this? The day he was taken away, you just found out you were waitlist accepted into NYU.
“I’m not going to go to New York.”
You stood in front of your father with your head held high, absolute in your decision. He just came home the day before, the bruises on his wrists still rough from the handcuffs the feds shackled onto him. He sat up on the couch, giving you his undivided attention.
“You just came back home, and I don’t think it’s the best time for me to leave,” you continued. “I will get a job and help around the house. Maybe I will go to junior college in Shiningdale—”
“No.” Your father rose from the couch, all six foot four of him towering over you. “You are not going to miss out on this opportunity because of me.”
“But Daddy—”
“NO!” The bass in your father’s voice deepened, sending a chill down your spine. “You will go to New York, attend that university, and make something of yourself. I didn’t raise you alone for fourteen years just for you to throw your life away.” Taking a deep breath, he motioned for you to sit on the couch. You sauntered over, and he ambled, pulling you into a hug and holding you close. You could smell the husky smell of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. It made your nose tingle.
“You have a gift with your pen, Blue.” Your dad’s voice was softer, hitting you hard and soft in your heart. “You have a way with words that I could never even think of. Just like your mother.”
You glanced at him, the mention of your mother making your breath stutter. He rarely talked about her, and you don’t remember her much, aside from her laughter, which you sometimes hear in your dreams. You were three when she died from cancer, but she has always had your dad’s heart.
“Mom used to write?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
“Absolutely,” your father confirmed with a smile. “She used to write me poems all the time.”
He got up suddenly, went into his room, and shuffled around, rummaging through papers and boxes. He returned with several notebooks, each with different hand-drawn blue flower decorations. “I kept her poems, thinking one day you would want to have them,” he explained. “I… still read them from time to time.”
“Daddy, no..." You smiled, leaning into his warmth, taking a notebook as you bite your lip. "I can’t just take this. It feels wrong.”
“Kid, you gotta quit worrying about your ol’ man,” he gruffed, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Your mother would want you to have them… and I want you to take them with you to New York.”
You studied him carefully, understanding that there was no changing his mind. Taking the rest of the notebooks, you cradled them to your heart, feeling a little closer to your mom.
“I’ll take good care of these, Daddy.”
Jihoon is stirred awake by the flash of electricity that turns on the apartment lights and by a loud beep from the microwave. Rubbing his eyes, he feels around for his glasses, patting around softly while you lie on his chest, still asleep. He finds them lying with a grasp underneath the futon, sliding them smoothly on his face. He lifts you gently as he gets up, laying you back comfortably on the futon as he stretches. You hardly stir; your face is relaxed, asleep, and somehow more beautiful than he remembered.
You didn’t talk much more during the storm. Jihoon held you close while it went on, and eventually you fell asleep. He could have slept in his bed, but he wanted to hold you just a little bit longer. He never thought he would have this chance to do it again; to know this grown-up, famous person you’ve become. He wasn’t as angry with you for hurting his mother anymore. The more he thought about it, the more he understood why you reacted the way you did. It opened his eyes to his mother’s behavior, and he knows down the line, decisions will have to be made.
Jihoon starts cleaning the apartment, meticulously wiping the counters and returning everything to what it was before he left. He likes order, putting things back where they belong, and making sense of what is out of place and why. It’s the way he goes through life, as he feels there is a reason for everything, even if the answer isn’t found yet. It’s what keeps him going, he supposes.
“Hey.”
The soft, groggy voice made him pause. He glances in your direction, setting the towel on the counter. “Hey,” he breathes. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
You shook your head, sitting up slowly and smiling sheepishly. “No,” you confirm, your voice still thick with sleep. “The microwave was loud; I just lay there for a bit.”
Jihoon's laugh is light, chuckling at the irony. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It woke me up, too.”
Your hand covers your mouth as you stifle a yawn, your free arm stretching as you rise slowly from the futon. Your hair is disheveled, you have sleep in your eyes, and Jihoon thinks you’re the prettiest woman he has ever seen. He stares longer than he should, watching you adjust your shirt and scroll through your phone. You shake your head with a groan, shoving it in your pocket.
“Do you want some tea?” Jihoon asks, leaning casually against the counter, trying to keep his gaze from lingering. “I have a few things here.”
You don’t answer right away; you stare at the floor, lost in thought. “Blue?” he calls out softly, unfolding his arms. “Are you okay?”
Slowly snapping back into focus, your gaze lifts to meet his. You offer him a small smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “Oh. Yeah.” You nod. “Tea is good.”
Jihoon mouths ‘okay’ and pulls out a teapot he got from the Wen Thrift Store down the road. The family that runs it has a son named Junhui who is about the same age as him. Junhui travels a lot, sends things from time to time that they could sell at the shop, and that’s how he came across this antique teapot. He uses it almost every day, preferring to wake up to tea rather than coffee. He prefers to drink more natural, herbal drinks, and having a tea does his body good.
Jihoon pours water into the pot and sets it on the stove to boil. “I have a lemon zinger tea. Is that cool?”
“Mhm,” you hum, eyes focused on your phone again. “Whatever you have is fine.”
Jihoon busies himself with making your tea, trying not to focus on your sad and sleepy eyes. He tries not to think about how comfortable you were lying on his chest, how nice it was to hear you deeply breathe on him, not crying, hurt, or in a rage. He avoids noticing the moments stretch whenever he is with you, and how your hair still smells like vanilla and cream.
Jihoon hasn’t had many regrets over the years, but not fighting harder to keep in touch with you, to resume what you had that summer, has been one of the biggest regrets of his life. The dull ache of missing you that he thought he could put away and move on from has stuck with him ever since.
Sneaking a glance at you, he notices your sour disposition, sulking with your phone clutched in your hand tightly, “What’s wrong?” He probes, wiping his hands with a kitchen towel.
Your mouth opens and shuts, words failing to come out. You shake your head in disbelief, rising from the couch and handing him the phone instead. “I’m sure you knew about the ceremony that happened tonight?”
Jihoon looks confused, looking at what’s displayed on the screen. It’s Vernon being raised in the air, holding beers in both hands, with a caption that says “our new leader”. Jihoon watches your body shift uncomfortably, a slow fire starting in your eyes.
“I don’t know what this is,” Jihoon states, handing her back the phone. “What is that?”
“It’s a ceremony that announces the leader of the Zodiacs,” you explain, folding your arms across your chest. “Vern was made the leader.”
“Oh,” he responds, brows furrowing as he understands the situation. “Isn’t that a little early? Your dad just died.”
Your eyes widen, lighting up significantly as you look relieved. “See! You get it!” you exclaim. “I was so mad when Vernon told me (which he didn’t tell me until Pop mentioned it to him in front of me), and I just started walking until I saw something familiar.”
Your shoulders relax as you lean against the counter in thought. “That’s how I ended up downstairs,” you explain, with a softer tone. “I thought maybe I was crazy for feeling hurt by it. I know they have to choose a leader eventually, but Daddy is barely six feet in the ground.”
You blink furiously as you try to hold back tears, wiping your eyes furiously. “Did anyone give a fuck about my father?” You break out in a sob, covering your face with your hands as you start to cry. Jihoon immediately pulls you to him, rubbing your back as you cry into his shirt. He knows all of this too well. When he lost his father, he was sad and missed him, but Jihoon had time to process that he didn’t have long to live and make peace with that. You didn’t, and everything is being thrust onto you with no remorse. And now the world is moving on while you’re stuck in the same place. He knows how that feels.
Jihoon pulls back slightly, lifting your face and wiping your tears away. He notices the way your chin trembles and the light is gone from your eyes, replaced with a hurt that cuts deep. He wishes he could take your pain away, put it in a jar, and throw it in the ocean, never to be seen again.
“Look at me,” he whispers, catching droplets from the corner of your eyes. “I know everything feels shitty right now, and you take all the time you need to heal. But I have your back, okay? I always have. Whatever you need.”
You nod fervently, your breathing slowing as you start to relax. Jihoon makes the mistake of gazing into your eyes, seeing the woman he’s longed for a decade, standing in front of him with a history that can’t top anyone else that he’s connected with. His thumb brushes against your lip by mistake, wet from tears. You nod slowly, as if you read his mind, and you feel the same thing he does, inching closer until your noses barely touch. Smiling gently, you brush his hair back, regarding him with a look of adoration.
“Why are you so nice to me?” You murmur, locking your eyes with his. “You have very well have told me to fuck off, but you still stick around.”
Jihoon studies you for a moment, weighing the scales in his mind. He wants to be honest with you and tell you how he feels, but he also knows you’re vulnerable, and he doesn’t want to take advantage of that. Gazing in your eyes makes him want to forgo his inhibitions and tell you what’s in his heart and mind. Taking a step back, he looks at his floor conflicted.
“Jihoon.” You breathe his name in a way that invokes something wild in his spirit. “What is it?”
He shakes his head, looking past you at the brick wall. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“What’s fine?” You question him, reclaiming space in front of him. “You aren’t being very clear.”
Jihoon’s feet are planted to the floor, unable to move. He’s acutely aware of how close you are to him, and he fights every nerve in his body to reach out to you. But you touch him instead, lifting his chin to meet the same, warm face that he fell in love with.
“Tell me,” you plead with earnest eyes.
Jihoon exhales lightly, anxiety eating at him from the inside. “I have to say something, and I don’t want you to freak out,” he reveals, his heart beating wildly as he gauges your reaction. Your brows knit in confusion, but you nod slowly, giving him the space to say what’s on his mind. “You’ve been on my mind a lot, even when I tried to forget you. You’re everywhere I go, and not just because you are a big-time author now. I know this is a shitty time to say this, and I’m sorry. But you are hard to forget and to get over, Blue.”
Your expression is calm, as if you’re processing what he’s said, and it makes his stomach drop. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he say too much? It stays quiet a beat too long, and he shifts nervously, shoving his hands in his sweats.
“Is that how you feel?” You ask gently. “Did you mean all that?”
“Yes. I miss you.”
Before he can blink, you kiss him.
It’s needy, titillating, and fills his veins with a high he has been chasing since that summer. His hands cup your face, embracing your soft lips against his, and walking you back until your back hits the fridge. Everything disappears, fading in the background as he deepens the kiss, elated that he might have his girl back. Your hands run through his hair, tugging it softly and moaning in his mouth. He has not experienced this side of you before, so sensual and in control of yourself, but he is willing to learn all of it for you.
“I need you,” you murmur, your eyes snapped shut as you pull on his shirt. “I need you, Jihoon, please.”
He pauses, holding your gaze and needing direct confirmation. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.”
A smile tugs at your lips before kissing him again, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and grabbing the back of his neck. “It’s what I want.”
Smirking against your lips, his kisses travel to your neck, sucking on the soft skin that he’s being given the honor to touch.
“Whatever you need, Baby.”
You moan earnestly in his ear, stuck in the trance set by Jihoon. He never imagined he would ever see you again, let alone touch you, kiss you, and profess his feelings to you. See, Jihoon is not an emotional guy and doesn’t say more than he needs to, and that’s always been fine by him. The less you know, the better. But you make his heart want to burst out of his chest. You make him want to feel love and not be afraid of it. You make him feel alive. You make him whole.
Jihoon’s lips return to yours, desperate and commanding, kissing you with everything he has. Every moan from you drives him closer to the edge, and he craves you more. With a quiet, searching look, he waits for your nod of approval before his hands move to the buttons of your jeans, sliding them slowly down your legs. Throwing them out of view and not caring where they land, his breath catches at the sight of your legs, completely enamored.
“What are you doing?” You ask softly, biting your bottom lip.
A slow smirk flirts on his mouth as his fingers travel up your thigh, moving dangerously close to your clothed center. Your breath hitches as he leans in closer, delicately pulling your panties to the side. Your pussy is dripping already, your sweet essence barely staying contained. His mouth waters at the thought of your taste, his tongue begging to lap in between your folds.
“Please, Jihoon,” you whine, massaging the back of his hand. “I want this.”
Jihoon doesn’t hesitate; he dives in, moaning with gratification as he tastes your sweet, warm cunt. You taste better than heaven, a delicacy that he could never get enough of. He pauses briefly to take off your panties and discard them. He wants to see the full picture, this slice of heaven in between your legs. Taking a long swipe in between your folds, you let out a mewling moan, much to his satisfaction.
“Y-yes,” you purr with heavy eyelids and a smile. “God, yes.”
He growls in between your legs, sucking and eating you salaciously with a fervent hunger he can’t contain. His cock hardens in his pants, begging to be touched. He lifts, roughly shoving down his sweats and springing it free, and rubbing his shaft with his free hand. His face is smothered in your cunt with your juices dripping down his chin, and your sweet moans are a melody from his own doing. Jihoon never wants this to end.
“J-Jihoon. Fuck, you’re so good at this.”
Teasingly, he nods with his lips wrapped around your clit, smirking as your eyes flutter to the back of your head. Jolts of pleasure shoot through his cock as he gradually picks up his own pace, his hand tightly wrapped around his girth. He continues to chase his high feverishly and yours, slipping his tongue into your hole. You gasp, shuddering at the sudden switch-up. Your hips slowly wind to his rhythm, your moans echoing louder in a crescendo, whimpering incoherent sayings over and over.
“I got you,” he grunts, lost in his own pleasure. "You can trust me.”
You come undone on his tongue, gripping his hair tightly as you give him everything he wants and more. You are a sight to behold, your toes curling as he works you through your intense high while also chasing his own release. Jihoon is in a haze of lust, vigorously jerking himself off to your wet pussy lips, tipping over the edge.
“Oh, fuck,” he cries out, his orgasm gushing out of him and spilling over his hand. His gaze locks in with yours, continuing to stroke himself until he is spent, his load freely landing on the floor. Resting his head on your leg, his chest heaves as he comes out of the bliss, leaving soft kisses along your calf. The sensation makes you giggle, then you let out a deep exhale.
“Wow,” you say with a dazed look. “I don’t think I have experienced that before.”
Jihoon looks at you slowly, with curiosity. “You’ve never orgasmed before?”
You shook your head, your eyes shifting nervously. “Not like that.”
The teapot whistles loudly, startling you and making Jihoon jump up, forgetting all about it. The steam blows angrily out of the hole, indicating the water is ready to be served with the tea. Quickly turning off the stove, he grabs the cleaner and paper towels, wiping the mess that he made on the floor until it is gone. He notices you watching him with an expression he can’t make out.
“Are you okay?” he asks, glancing at you as he pulls up his sweats. You don’t answer right away, and the silence stretches on that gives him pause. Setting the teapot off the hot stove, he saunters over to you, caressing your forearm. “Blue, are you with me?”
He can tell you’re lost in your own thoughts, his heart racing as he hopes they are happy ones, and of him. Your eyes fix on him, a slow, relaxed smile on your face. He slowly releases the breath he was holding, feeling more at ease. “Yeah,” you finally respond. “I’m with you.”
“Okay,” he nods, feeling more at ease. “I’ll make your tea.”
Your eyes scan the room, undoubtedly looking for your panties and your pants, thrown on the opposite ends of the apartment. Jihoon busies himself making your tea, adding the herbs, and letting it sit in the hot water. Hearing you say that no one has ever made you orgasm in that way does something to him. He’s not a prideful guy, but he will not lie and say he didn’t like the sound of that. Jihoon hasn’t been with many partners, and he has experience, but he hasn’t made love to them the way he did with you.
You’ve officially made him a pussy-drunk fool in love.
Jihoon notices it’s too quiet and sneaks a glance at you as you slide your jeans back onto your body. He notices the way your hands press against your jeans as you rub your thighs. Your hair is messy, your eyes are glossy, and he finds you so fucking irresistible.
“What’s on your mind, Blue?” Jihoon probes, finishing preparing your cup. Walking over to you, he places it in your hands with a towel underneath. “It’s hot.”
You mouth thank you, taking a sip cautiously. Your brows furrow, observing the porcelain cup in your hand. Some of it drips down your chin, and before you could react, Jihoon is wiping it away with his thumb. “This is good,” you finally say, a small smile on your lips. “I’ll have to get this brand for my apartment.”
The air sucks out of him a little, a jarring reminder that you will be leaving here soon, and who knows if you will come back. He studies your face, noting how you close your eyes with each sip, as if you are going to place in your mind that brings you peace.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks, softly nudging your knee.
You lock eyes with him, and your sleepy eyes fill him with an infectious warmth and a familiar adoration that is only for him. “For the first time since I’ve been back here, I can breathe.” You hesitate, setting the cup in your lap and locking your eyes with his. “Thank you for that.”
Jihoon feels the sincerity in your words, falling deeper into your orbit and this moment. “I’m glad I could do that for you.”
Ten Summers Ago
“So you’re leaving, huh?”
You were with Jihoon at the lake, throwing rocks along the dark waters as time passed by. The sun beamed on your heads in the mid-afternoon without a cloud in sight. It was your last day in Carats Ridge, and your car was packed to the brim, ready to go. Your last days were spent getting ready for your journey, tying up loose ends, and grabbing anything you could take with you. You spent time with Lola and Vernon with Jihoon in between, and your father threw you an unwanted going-away party at Shadow. You smiled through it, knowing that his intentions were in the right place, and he wanted to show off his only daughter going to college. He deserves the bragging rights, you think. He’s been through a lot after all.
“Yeah,” you confirmed, the word right in your throat as you throw another pebble. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”
You glanced at Jihoon, acknowledging his glum expression and instantly regretting your flippancy. “I’m sorry, Jihoon. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did,” he responded quietly, his gaze fixated on the water. “But I don’t hold it against you. This time hasn’t been exactly kind to you.”
It still didn’t stop you from feeling bad. You had feelings, real feelings, for Jihoon, and the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. He made you feel seen, he understands you, and treats you like he loves you, not someone he tolerates. Your heart twisted at the thought of not seeing him every day or touching his skin or hearing his voice. Jihoon had single-handedly made you believe in love and in your right to good things. He’s changed your life.
You’ve played a lot of scenarios in your head, wondering if you could truly make a long-distance relationship work. Jihoon was attending college in the next town over, pursuing a bachelor's degree in music. He wanted to travel the world and make connections while he is studying, and he can’t do that here in Carats Ridge. His mother tried to make him stay home and work from the music store, but he insisted on leaving, saying he needed a “fresh start”. Jihoon said that if it weren’t for his father finding his acceptance letter in the mailbox, he wouldn’t have known he made it in.
Ultimately, your worlds are about to become far apart and distant, and you both agreed that this had to end.
A slight wind picked up, gently shaking the leaves in the tall trees. There is no one else at the lake for miles, almost too quiet for your liking. The birds that were hidden in the trees fly east, as if the wind had disturbed them from their rest. You gazed at Jihoonhrow as he threw more pebbles and successfully made them skip. Your thoughts were loud and chaotic; your heart pounding in your ears. You didn’t want to leave him, but you couldn’t stay here anymore—too many bad memories, too much hurt.
“Hey,” Jihoon’s deep voice brought you back to the present. He wipes his hands on his pants from the dirt, coming behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You lean into him automatically as he presses a soft kiss on your shoulder. “We’ll still keep in touch. You will not get rid of me that easily.”
A chuckle bubbles in your throat, temporarily relieving the tension in your chest. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you tease him, keeping your voice light. “I bet you are going to miss me while I’m gone.”
Jihoon doesn’t respond right away, as if he is considering the weight of your words. “You have no idea.”
Turning to face him, you take his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together. Your time together may have been short, but it’s changed you in the best way. It frustrates you that this didn’t happen years before, when you saw each other at school almost every other day and shared classes. Imagine how those years could have been different if you had this connection.
“You won’t forget me, right?” you whispered, resting your forehead on his.
“Of course not,” he responded, lifting your chin to meet your eyes. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know.” Your voice shook. “I mean, we’re going to be on different sides of the country, and who knows when we will see each other again, and I—”
“Blue, stop,” Jihoon interrupted, calm but firmly. “You act as if we are not going to keep in touch. I don’t care what happens from here on out: you are unforgettable. One of a kind, baby.”
You took in what he said, letting it seep deep until it penetrated your soul. You wanted to believe him, that you would keep talking and would keep what you have going until your paths cross again. But you were also realistic, and you came from a different life than he does. Eventually, he would’ve found someone his mother would like and who he’d love like no other. You’d be an afterthought, a blip in the history of Lee Jihoon.
Maybe it’s better to cut ties, for good.
“You know I love you, right?”
Nodding slowly, you bit your lip, looking down at the ground. “I know. I love you too.”
“Okay then,” he asserted, caressing your arm. “We will just focus on school, and everything will work out. We’ll still talk all the time.” Jihoon pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “Alright, I need to take you back home. I don’t want your Dad to skin me alive.”
You let out a chortle, imagining the thought of your dad going after Jihoon for making you late for your trip. Kissing your cheek, he led you away from the lake and down the rocky path back to his truck, holding your hand along the way. You were going to miss this, being in his company and just existing with him. To think you came to the music store looking for music and left with a life-altering connection and a love you never felt before. It was funny how life is like that.
The ride back to your house was silent, nothing but the wind in your hair and your arm outside the window. You weren’t afraid to admit you were happy to leave this place and see what New York has to offer, but not at the expense of losing this—losing him. He could say that you will keep in touch, but you know how these stories usually end.
Maybe it was for the best.
The morning sunlight blazes through the window, shining directly onto Jihoon’s face. In an effort to shield his face from the sun, he accidentally slaps his face, making him sit up quickly in reaction to the pain.
“Ah, fuck,” he groans.
Jihoon slept on the futon again with you, falling asleep shortly after you had your tea. There wasn’t much conversation after that, and he thinks, after everything, it’s what you needed. That was your first sexual experience together, and as intense as it was for him and as much as he enjoyed it, the dynamic has changed. Jihoon knows you’re going through a lot right now, and you’re leaving here soon, but he can’t help the way that he feels. He’s in love with you still, and what happened several hours ago intensified it. But where does that leave you and him?
Patting around on the futon, he instantly notices it’s lighter and colder than when he fell asleep, compared to you in his arms. Grabbing his glasses off the floor, he shoves them on his face, clearing his vision and leading to impending disappointment; you were gone.
Jihoon groggily rises from the futon, folding it upright from its bed position and folding the blanket. The bathroom door is askew, and he knew you were gone, as the apartment isn’t big enough to be anywhere else. A piece of paper flies from the blanket, swinging lightly until it lands near his foot. Curiously, he picks it up, turning it over and reading the cursive-written words:
I’m sorry.
Jihoon stares at the paper before letting out a harumph that itches his throat. Shaking his head, he shoves the note into his sweatpants as he is filled with the resolve to handle this in person. He will not let you run away from him that easily.
The same thing happened before when you left town. You promised to keep in touch, and you did for a while, but then his calls started going unanswered, and he was left on read. Jihoon was hurt about it, especially having to get updates from Vernon and Lola about your life and how you were doing. Eventually, he stopped asking and started to move on. He’s dated other people and had one serious partner, and he thought he was finally getting over it and could stomach seeing the color blue again.
But then you came out with your book, a story about you and him, and he was sucked back in. Jihoon ignored his feelings and kept them under the rubble in his heart and mind for so long, but soon you were everywhere, and he couldn’t escape you. Your book was on every shelf, and when the rumors of you dating a certain Buck Layton were swirling around, you were on every news station. When Jihoon came back to Carats Ridge to help his father, you were the talk of the town. Everyone was proud of you, which he found ironic. But unfortunately, you were stuck in his head.
Eventually, that relationship ended; they grew apart, and they left town shortly after. Around the same time, your father started coming into the music store, looking for tunes to play on the speakers at the community center. Naturally, they struck up a conversation, and somehow Jihoon found himself helping at the center, teaching guitar lessons to the kids there. Jihoon discovered that your dad was a cool guy who was liked by everyone, despite being from the Southside. Well, almost everyone. His mother didn’t like that he was friends with Vernon or went to the Southside as often as he did. “I don’t want any of that trash to rub off on you” were her exact words and then some. But he didn’t care—he felt for the first time in a long time that he belonged somewhere.
And it somehow made him closer to you.
Jihoon doesn’t know whether this is divine intervention or a clear sign from the Universe, but you’re back in his life after almost ten years. He wasn’t letting you go that easily.
With a renewed resolve surging through him, Jihoon makes quick work of straightening up his living room and kitchen before racing to get ready. He brushes his teeth as if he is running out of time, and showers until he feels clean and good enough for you. Through all of this, you are locked in his mind, and he can't help but wonder how the conversation will go and if you feel that electric shift, too. He figures you have to, right? Blue Valentine is clearly their story—you have to admit that at least.
Throwing on a white t-shirt and a pair of boot cut Levi’s, he slides on his favorite boots, brimming with excitement.
Knock! Knock!
Jihoon freezes, staring at the red mahogany colored door. He wasn’t expecting anyone over, and he didn’t over anything, but he is a man on a mission, and he will have to deal with it on his way out. Unless it’s you, and you have decided to come back.
Heart hammering and grabbing his keys, he swings the door open, hoping to see your face. Instead, he is met with mild disappointment that curdles in his chest like milk.
“Jihoon.”
He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, stepping out of the way to let her in. “Mother.”
She waddles inside like she owns the place, setting her bag down on the clear end table. She looks tired, bleak, as if she didn’t sleep at all. Jihoon is upset with her, sure, but he still wants her to be healthy above all else.
“I was about to leave,” Jihoon’s voice is flat. “So, unless this can’t wait, I have to go.”
“Jihoon, I…” Her voice falters, as if something is holding her back. “I think it’s time for you to know some things.”
Jihoon’s stomach drops, caught off guard by the sudden reveal. The air has left the room, replaced with a tension that slowly suffocates. Clutching the keys in his hands, he curses internally and shuts the door behind him. He bites the inside of his cheek, motioning for his mother to sit down on the futon. Taking a deep breath, he asks the fated question, “What do I need to know, mother?”
His mother’s fingers danced nervously in her lap, her eyes fixed on the ground and on everything but her son. “July 30, 1994. That’s when Raymond made his promise to me.”
Jihoon stares at her, the wheels spinning in his head. “Raymond?” Then it clicks. “Blue’s father?!”
She nods solemnly, finally looking at him with prickling eyes. “Yes, the very one.”
He stares at her incredulously as he tries to make sense of it. “What promise are you talking about, Mom?”
She stares into the void as if recounting memories, a faint smile on her lips. “He was the love of my love. My first love.”
“You… and Blue’s father?” Jihoon asks slowly.
She confirms with a nod, looking away in shame. Jihoon blinks profusely, shaking his head in bewilderment. He doesn’t know what to believe, whether his mother is even telling the truth. He knew she had a hatred for Southside people in general, and he assumed that the hate for your father was because of the adjacency, not because of a sour past.
“Back in those days, things were different,” his mother begins. “He was the star football player, and I was the cheerleader and president of the student body. We were great on paper, and I thought we were great together, too. He was my first boyfriend, and we understood each other better than anyone, especially both being from the Southside.”
Jihoon’s jaw goes slack, hit with another revelation that jumbles his thoughts even further. “YOU are from the Southside?”
His mother finally looks at him, affirming with sad eyes. “Yes.” Clearing her throat, she continues. “We were one of the few from there who were going to make it out of this town and make something of themselves. I was going to fashion school, and Raymond was going to go to MSU for football, make it big, and we would start our lives together. But some things happened at home with his old man, and he had to stay home, but he still encouraged me to go. We agreed that I would leave and pursue what I wanted, and then I would come back, and we would resume our lives together.”
His mother pauses for a moment, then rises from the futon and walks to the window. Jihoon is at a loss for words, processing everything that’s been said. “So what happened after that?” He frains softly.
“We wrote letters to each other here and there, and I thought he was the one. I wanted him to be the one. But when I came back home after graduating, I found out he didn’t feel the same way.” She sniffles, wiping a lone star from her right eye. “I expected everything to go back to what it was, but I found out he was with Camille, and turned out she was pregnant with their daughter.”
Jihoon stiffens, piecing everything together and finally making the connection. “Camille… Is that—”
“Yes,” his mother confirms shortly. “That’s her mother.”
He sits back slowly, his eyebrows raised at the revelation. Jihoon’s mind is going a million miles a minute, replaying every moment and everything his mother has said about the Southside and how she acted. At first, he’s numb, but slowly he fills with a cocktail of sadness and anger, appalled by this betrayal. This is worse than his mother being cruel to you for the hell of it—this was personal for her, and now personal for him. You didn’t deserve this.
“So,” Jihoon breathes, trying to keep his emotions in order. “All this crap you said about the Southside and how there were no good people there, were you speaking from experience?”
His mother whips around, wrinkles of surprise on her forehead. “Jihoon!”
“No, mom, let’s talk about it,” Jihoon retorts, raising his voice. “You told me all my life that the Southside people were nothing but thugs and degenerates, and you damn near had a heart attack if I even looked at someone from there. I am glad I never listened to you—I would have missed out on the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Surely you don’t mean that?!” His mother gasps. “Not over that tra—”
“I would watch very carefully what you say to me next,” Jihoon says firmly. The color drains from his mother’s face, and he couldn't care less. “You treated her like crap ever since she started coming around, all because you and her father had some old fling. Did you even love Dad at all? Or was he just a rebound to make yourself feel better—”
His mother marches over to him, slapping him across the face, leaving his left cheek stinging and his ears ringing. He stumbles, placing his hand on his cheek to soothe the pain. He wants to cry, but he’s too stunned to speak, gawking at the audacity of his mother.
“Don’t you ever, EVER, say I didn’t love your father,” she says through gritted teeth. “He knew what I was, and he loved me anyway. Your father is a godsend.” Her chest rises and falls in anger, her ears turning beet red. “Your father was better than me in so many ways, and I thank God he came into my life when he did. I did love your father, and that’s a cruel thing to say.”
Slowly regaining feeling on his face, he stares at the ground, his chest aches with an indescribable hurt that has changed the trajectory of their relationship. “Is it?” Jihoon says solemnly, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “You loved Dad but not enough to forgive Raymond and spew your prejudice bullshit, right?” He cannot stomach looking at her anymore, his insides churning the longer he stares. “I need you to leave.”
His mother’s eyes widen, taken aback by his request. “Jihoon, you have to forgive me. I am your mother.”
Mother. A six-letter word that would usually make him feel warm and appreciative of the one he was given. But instead, he’s filled with anger and a hurt that will take away if he lets it, and he is done letting her get away with her misgivings under the guise of knowing what’s best.
“You are my mother in name only,” Jihoon responds bitterly, enunciating each word. “I love you, and I will continue to care for you as the duty of your son, but that’s it.” He stomps towards the door, swinging it open with a force that rattles the papers on the dining room table. “Go.”
His mother hesitates for a moment before stalking towards the door, stopping in front of him with furrowed brows and a crestfallen expression. “I love you, Jihoon.” Kissing him quickly on the cheek, she rushes out of the apartment, waddling down the steps as fast as she could.
Jihoon exhales a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding, though no sign of relief came. You left him; his mother just dropped this bomb on him and hit him with all her might. He woke up today intending to get you back, to match the energy of the sunny skies outside his window. Instead, the day is crumbling, frustration looming over him like a heavy cloud.
Undeterred, he waits several minutes, allowing his mother time to exit the building; not eager for another blowout. Once he thinks the coast is clear, he bolts out of his place, hopping into his truck and revving the engine with a renewed focus.
I’m coming to you, Blue.
You know you’re a coward for leaving the way you did. It was necessary, though.
You let yourself slip for one night, feeling sad, grief, loneliness, and wanting to be touched and feel good, which led you to make some choices. You didn’t mean to lead Jihoon on, not that you’re saying you don’t feel the same way about him, and did not equally enjoy what you share. You loved every minute of it, and as you lay in his arms, with your back pressed against his chest, you wanted more. Even now, you crave him like a bad habit; the images of him in between your legs will undoubtedly be seared into your brain forever. But to be quite frank, you’re a hot fucking mess.
Jihoon deserves someone who has their head on straight and isn’t running on empty. He deserves someone open and willing to love him wholeheartedly and committedly. He deserves the sun, the earth, and every single shooting star in the sky. You love him enough to admit that if he accepts you for who you are right now, you will hurt him. You aren’t the same person he fell in love with back then. You know deep down, he will leave you, and that’s another heartbreak you aren’t willing to go through.
You approach your childhood home at the end of the street, standing tall, bright, and almost unrecognizable with the new coat of paint. You slow your pace before pausing to take in your old neighborhood for the first time since you’ve been here. The houses look mostly the same, and you are willing to bet you have the same neighbors. The air even smells the same, earthy, almost like pine. You hate the smell of pine now, after growing up with it for so many years—the last thing you want is to be reminded of here.
A red pickup truck pulls up to the driveway, with "Choi’s Movers" displayed in bold white font. Your stomach twists as you're not prepared for whoever is coming out of the truck—and it would be your luck that Lola and Vernon are both here.
“Hey, there, YN,” Vernon says sheepishly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
You glare at him sharply, letting out a gritty scoff. "Really, Vernon? First name bases now?" Your eyes flick to his leather jacket, noticing a new patch that says ‘prez’. "Congratulations are in order," you remark dryly.
“Come on, Blue, you aren’t being fair,” Lola cuts in, now standing in front of Vernon. “You know this is how we do things here. Eventually, someone was going to have to take over.”
“Lola, it’s not even about the ceremony. I don’t care about the stupid ceremony—”
“Yeah, we fucking know—”
“—What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Lola?!”
“You know exactly what I mean, Blue,” Lola snaps, frustration etched on her face. “You never wanted to be a part of this, and that’s fine, but don’t sit here and act like you get to pick and choose when operations resume. YOU know, eventually we would have to move forward.”
You turn away from them, shaking your head in frustration. “You don’t get it,” you mutter.
“Well, help me understand that because from where I stand, you are being a little ungrateful.”
Before today, you could confidently say that Lola and Vernon never hurt you. You were the best of friends, as close as thieves, and made a pact always to support each other, no matter what. You never thought the day would come when there would be conflict, let alone you versus them. But now, it’s clear that the Zodiacs come first, even over you.
“Wow.” You stare at them, your hands clenching as you try to control your temper. “I’m ungrateful? I didn’t even want to have the fucking funeral. If it were up to me, I would have cremated his ashes, kept him with me, and been satisfied. But I know Dad didn’t want that.” Your blood boils as your anger mounts, and you saunter closer to Lola. “It was never about you guys moving on or Zodiac tradition—it was about the fact that you couldn’t wait to have the ceremony at least until I was out of town. It would have hurt a lot fucking less.”
Slowly, Lola’s expression shifts from anger to understanding, then to shame. The pulse in your temple twitches, heavy and agonizing, making you pause. The heat does you no favors, making you stumble back. Lola and Vernon move faster than you can blink, breaking your fall.
“Let’s get you inside,” Vernon suggests, grabbing hold of your arm.
“I’m fucking fine,” you bite, attempting to snatch yourself away from their grip.
“Blue, quit being fucking stubborn and let us help you.”
“Whatever,” you mumble, your vision disoriented by the second. Lola unlocks the front door, and the rush of cool air hitting your face is welcoming. Most of the furniture is gone, sans the lone air mattress and suitcases that you have stored in your bedroom for the time remaining you had here. You arranged for your dad’s things to be stored in New York, so his memories will never be forgotten.
Vernon leads you to your bedroom and lays you softly on the bed. You avoid contact, not ungrateful for the help, but still too mad to acknowledge it with a thank you. Lola comes in shortly after, handing you an ice-cold water bottle, presumably from the fridge, and a couple of Excedrin. You take it from her, drinking slowly due to the slight nausea you feel in your stomach.
“It seems like you’re dehydrated,” Lola observes, giving you a once-over.
“Maybe,” you pant, drinking the last bit of water. “I’ve been doing a lot of walking back and forth between the Southside and the Northside.”
Vernon’s brows furrow in confusion. “You could have asked us for a ride, you know?”
Cutting your eyes at him, you roll them and fold your arms. “Yeah? With all the party planning you had going on?”
Vernon’s eyes shift, looking down with a look of shame. “I’m sorry about that, alright?” He clears his throat, scratching the back of his head. “We didn’t think about the timing of everything, and how you might feel about it.”
“Yeah, Blue,” Lola adds, sitting on the foot of the bed. “We weren’t trying to hurt you.”
You let out a heavy breath from deep within, rubbing your temple with your finger. The pulse still throbs, but the pain is lessening. The anger slowly seeps out of you along with the rest of your energy. With heavy eyes, you nod. “I think we said a lot of things, and I’m not really in the headspace to talk more about it,” you say honestly. “I appreciate everything you have done for me since I have been back in town, and it’s not lost on me that you lost a great leader. But I lost my dad, and it’s barely been two weeks. So I apologize if I’m not always showing I’m on my best behavior or grateful.”
Guilt washes over their faces, and you look away, feeling your own regret. Maybe you were too mean and could have tried to talk to Vernon instead of walking away. Maybe you could try to see things from their point of view. You hate this contention. Above everything, they are your best friends, and even though the wounds are still fresh, you don’t have the energy to fight with them anymore. Your soul is tired, and it’s not something that a bed and sleep can fix.
“I’m going to try and get some rest,” you announce, shuffling around in the comforter. Vernon and Lola exchange nervous glances, hesitant to leave. You let out an exasperated sigh, straightening your posture. “I’m tired, okay? I had a long day yesterday and today, and what I really need is a shower and rest.”
“You almost collapsed out there,” Lola points out. “I don’t feel right leaving you here alone.”
“Lola, please,” you respond. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, you’re doing a bang-up job of that,” she quips, adjusting your blanket. “I’m not leaving you here alone. You could be dehydrated.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Blue, quit going back and forth and accept our help,” Vernon cuts in with a clipped tone. “It’s two against one. We’re not going anywhere until we know you’re okay.”
You shake your head, huff, and look at the wall. The stubborn bull in you wants to keep going, push for your way, and not accept anything else. But you also know them, and they will not back down. Your head throbs again, your vision starting to blur. You’re exhausted and haven’t been sleeping much since you’ve been here.
“Fine,” you reluctantly concede. “But I would like to get some sleep. It’s been quite the twenty-four hours.”
You sink lower into the air mattress, covering yourself with the blanket as you try to get comfortable. Vernon leans and rubs your shoulder before he leaves, the echo of his boots gradually fading in the almost empty house. Lola climbs on the other side of the mattress, pulling you into a backward hug. “You know I love you, right?” She murmurs. “I would do anything for you, Blue.”
You nod sleepily, your words caught in your throat. Lola and Vernon mean well, and you know that, but you can’t help being a clusterfuck of emotions right now. They say grief comes and goes like waves, but your emotions have been nothing but high tides since the day you got the news. When will things get better?—When will you get better?
“Vernon and I will be right outside the door,” Lola assures, slowly rolling off the mattress. “Just holler if you need us, okay?”
Your sleepy eyes finally get the best of you. Your mind is half there, and in another dimension. “M’yeah,” you manage to mumble before exhaustion finally takes over, and you fall into a deep, satisfying sleep with Jihoon and the lake being the last image you saw.
Ten Summers Ago
The wind whipped through your hair as Jihoon drove down the long road that led to the lake. It was the perfect weather, with the sun peaking through the clouds, occasionally giving you a reprieve from its harsh light. Your hand hung out of the window, pretending you were pressing keys to the beat of the song playing on the radio. Jihoon glanced at you occasionally, asking if you were okay, and you nodded or responded with a ‘yes’, hit by the bottle of nerves that settled in your stomach. It’s not like you hadn’t hung out with him before; those times were different, under friendly circumstances. Whereas this is more romantic, a real date, something that could change the trajectory of your relationship forever. You were scared to death of it changing for the worse, and you wonder why you even agreed to this, but in the back of your mind, you think you would’ve regretted not taking that leap and finding out whether this is more or if it was all in your head.
Jihoon played a mix of 80s, 90s, and early 2000s songs from a playlist that he made on the iPad specifically for the trip. He said it was for the “vibes,” but you think he wanted to impress you. Little did he know, he didn’t need the playlist to do that—you already fell for him.
“We’re almost here,” Jihoon announced, lowering the sound of the music.
“I know,” you replied, sitting up in your seat. “I’ve been here before, remember?”
“Yeah,” Jihoon returned, a smile tugging on his lips. “But you haven’t been with me.”
Feeling the heat rush to your face, you looked away, pursing your lips to suppress the smile he put on your face. “You’re a real Casanova, you know that?”
“No, I’m just Jihoon.”
You rolled your eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips. He pulled into the lake shortly after, driving to the far end next to the dock. There was no one else around, and the trees were in full bloom, giving you the right amount of shade and privacy. Your skin prickled as the car slowed to a stop.
“Wait here.”
Jihoon hopped out of the truck, coming around to the other side and opening your door. Taking your hand, he helped you out of the car, his eyes traveling down to your short shorts and freshly shaven legs. You can’t say you didn’t like the attention, as it was nice to be desired. You were thankful you had applied baby oil before leaving the house.
“Do you like what you see?” you queried, following his gaze. “I just shaved this morning.”
Jihoon’s face turned beet red and embarrassed, stepping back considerably. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ogle at you—”
“Jihoon, it’s fine.” You waved him off with a giggle. “I want you to ‘oggle’ at me. At least I know you think I’m hot.” Reaching into the bed of the truck, you grabbed hold of the cooler. “Now show me where we are taking this thing?”
“Oh, I got that!” Jihoon exclaimed, hastily taking the cooler. “Let me show you we’re going to be.”
He led you away from the usual rocky, earthy path that leads to the docks, instead taking you to the grassy patch dotted with dandelions and daisies. There lay the same blanket he had when you watched the shooting stars, accompanied by pillows and baskets. You faltered, touched by the detail and thought that he put into this. You gazed at him with an affection that warms you to your core, observing the satisfied glimmer in his eyes.
“Jihoon, you didn’t have to do all of this.”
He didn’t lose his pace when he reached for your hand, connecting his soft fingers with yours. “I know. But I wanted to.”
Reaching the blanket, he motioned for you to sit as he took out the contents of the cooler. You noticed he had your favorite sandwiches and snacks packed, and even managed to grab chocolate-covered strawberries because you once mentioned you'd never had them. You watched him set everything in place with care, your face beaming with joy.
Pulling out a Bluetooth speaker, he returned to the playlist he made for this day, setting it farther away to create an ambiance. He wore a simple black t-shirt and light blue jeans, but you found him incredibly attractive. His glasses were clipped to the top of his shirt, and a strand of his hair kept falling on his forehead. His muscles flexed as he moved things around, heightening his appeal. You pinned your knees together, ignoring the heat in between your legs.
Then suddenly, you had an idea. “Let’s go for a swim!”
Jihoon stopped in his tracks, looking at you, bewildered. “You want to go swimming now?”
“Mmhmm,” you hummed, dropping your purse onto the blanket. “We can swim and then work up an appetite after.”
Jihoon hesitated, his eyes scanning the spread he was almost done setting up. You knew it was impulsive of you to do this now, but if you stared at him any longer, things were going to happen on this blanket. At least you weren’t offering to take your clothes off in the lake.
“Okay,” his voice trailed off, his eyes widening as he watched you take off your shorts. You didn’t want to get all of your clothes wet, so you figured that at least having dry shorts and a wet t-shirt was a good trade-off. But what you didn’t expect was to see him undress, taking off his shirt and undoing the button on his jeans. The heat surged through your neck, and it’s not just because of the weather.
“I always keep a change of clothes in my truck,” Jihoon explained. “I can change into something else.”
“Uh-huh,” you mustered, staring at his abs. “Let’s go get wet, yeah?”
Realizing how dirty that sounded, you mentally slapped yourself in the face, shaking your head as you walked toward the dock. Jihoon is to your right, slightly ahead of you, looking into the dark blue waters. The wind swayed the leaves on the trees, but otherwise it was quiet, and you had the lake to yourselves, it seemed like. Making it to the end of the dock, you kicked off your sandals, the soles of your feet gracing the warm wood.
“I have to ask,” Jihoon said suddenly. “Why go swimming now? You could have said something before, ya know?”
You stared at him, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to take a dip.”
“Maybe,” Jihoon responded. “Or there is something else going on here?”
“Nope.” You shook your head fervently. “Nothing more is going on.”
Jihoon perused you, and in that moment, you knew he thought you were full of shit. But you held on to your poker face as best you could, stepping closer to the end of the dock. “I guess we should probably—”
Jihoon carried you swiftly and jumped into the water, the surprisingly cool water surrounding you whole. It was refreshing and cool, and it put you at ease. Rising to the surface, you heard Jihoon laughing, splashing water on your face.
“Hey!” you cried, returning the favor. “At least give a girl a chance to wipe her eyes.”
You couldn’t help but join in on the laughter, feeling liberated and no longer shackled by the bundle of nerves you felt earlier. You realized, in hindsight, it was stupid to randomly suggest swimming right when you were about to eat. You thought Jihoon was sexy, and maybe you should have accepted that instead of trying to run away from it.
Jihoon swam closer to you, his face wet with water droplets and his hair slicked back. He looked even better wet, almost unethereal.
“So are you going to be honest with me, now?” Jihoon goaded, swimming in a deliberate circle around you. “I’m not going to judge you, you know that, right?”
“I know,” you responded, trying to sound casual. “But it’s honestly silly.”
He stopped his circling, treading water directly in front of you. “Try me.”
“I don’t want to ‘try you’—”
“—just tell me, Blue.”
Your chest tightened as you bit your lip, the familiar clench of anxiety coiling in your stomach as the bundle of nerves floods back. “You were sitting there, putting everything together, and you looked really hot doing it, and I didn’t know how to handle it. So I suggested we swim. I didn’t know you were going to get naked—”
“—I’m not naked.”
“You know what I mean!” you exasperated. “ Honestly, this was stupid, and we should just go back and eat—”
He shut you up with his lips on yours, and it was like fireworks went off—a sudden, explosive burst of sensation that echoed through every fiber of your being. Your chest sparked with an euphoric joy that made you dizzy, and you almost didn’t believe you were kissing Lee Jihoon, the boy who had your affection for the past month. You deepened the kiss as his hands graced your waist, your heart racing a million miles a minute. Your feet were impossibly light in the water, and you felt like you were floating, untethered and completely suspended in this moment. You’ve never experienced this before, and you don’t want it to stop.
Jihoon pulled away, leaving a lingering kiss before taking your hand and leading you to the dock, pulling himself up effortlessly, and then helping you up after. You were in a daze, your mind still reeling from that one kiss, and though you’d had kisses before, none of them felt like that.
“Next time, don’t hide from me,” Jihoon remarked with a cheeky grin. “I want you to be open with me, no matter what.”
You didn’t bother defending yourself; you knew exactly what he meant. “Mmhmm.”
“Good.” He nodded with a satisfied look on his face. “Now is your appetite worked up, or do you want a round two in the water?”
You scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “You are never going to let this go, are you?”
Jihoon took your hand, leading you back to the blanket, where your shorts and food awaited. “A Southsider at a loss for words for a naked Northie?” He let out a chortle. “Never.”
You wake up slowly, the blanket protecting you from the golden hour light shining through your blinds. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust, filled with crust from the deep sleep you endured. You reach around lazily for your phone, finding it beside the air mattress and connected to a charger. Weird, you thought to yourself; you don’t recall connecting it to one before you fell asleep. Tapping the screen, your eyes widen at the time, realizing you have been out cold for almost five hours.
Fuck. You didn’t mean to sleep this long.
Sitting up slowly, you accidentally knock over a fresh bottle of Gatorade, the plastic bottle rolling until it hits the door with a soft thud. You’re still in a haze of sleep, repeating the events that happened within the last twenty hours—the ceremony, Jihoon’s mother, the argument with Lola and Vernon, Jihoon, and the intimacy you two shared. Regret eats at you as you think about how you left, yearning for the warmth you felt in his arms, the softness of his lips when he kissed you, and, most importantly, his voice, and how it soothed you when you needed it most. Your bed is unbearably cold now, a deep chill settling in your bones as you force yourself to face the truth: you miss him.
Sitting up slowly, you let out a loud yawn, relieved to be cured of the nagging headache you had earlier. You hear shuffling outside your door, giving you only a moment’s notice to cover yourself with the blanket before the door opens. You see Lola’s chocolate brown curls before you see her, a worried look on her face as she comes with a sandwich and fries opened in a to-go box. The bread smells fresh, a warm invitation to your stomach as it grumbles loudly.
“I take it you’re hungry?” Lola teases, sitting at the foot of the mattress. “You were dead to the world for a while, girl.”
“Yeah, apparently,” you snort, sitting straighter. “I feel a lot better, though.” You eye the sandwich again, your mouth watering at what looks to be your favorite, an Italian sandwich on rye bread. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
“It’s never trouble to make sure my best friend is okay,” Lola states, waving you off. “Plus, it wasn’t me who brought the food.”
Your head ticks, your brows burrowing in confusion. “Was it Vernon?” you ask gently. The weight of guilt sags your shoulders, thinking about the argument earlier. The ceremony still hurts you, but after sleeping, the thought of falling out with your best friends makes your stomach flip. “I’m sorry,” you say meekly, unable to look her in the eye. “I feel like shit.”
“I know,” Lola responds, closing the box on the sandwich. “I’m sorry too, for calling you ungrateful and not thinking about how having the ceremony while you’re still here would have affected you.” Her eyes glisten as she blinks profusely, her voice wavering. “You’ve been through a lot and had to handle most things on your own, and I should have thought about you more. I’m sorry.”
Your heart twinges as the tears fall on her cheeks. “Oh, God, Lola, no.” You panic, shuffling out of the blanket and scooting next to her. “You have done more than enough for me. I couldn’t have gotten through the house affairs or handling my dad’s estate without you.” You wrap your arms around her, your own eyes stinging.
“Yeah?” Lola sniffles, quickly wiping her eyes.
“Of course,” you murmur, laying a kiss on her cheek. “When have I ever told you a lie?”
You manage to get a chuckle out of her, and it puts you at ease. Her arm wraps around you, and you sit in silence, simply existing with each other. Lola has been in your life forever, and you could never thank her enough for being your rock throughout all of this. Vernon, too, by extension, in his own way. This is undoubtedly the hardest thing you have ever gone through.
Lola reaches over, handing you the forgotten sandwich and placing it on your lap. “Make sure you eat that. I know you’re starved.”
Your finger brushes against the styrofoam box, a small upward curve on your lips. “Tell Vernon I said thank you for this.”
“Oh, um, it wasn’t from Vernon,” Lola says, biting back a smile as she rose from the bed. You stare at her, waiting for her to reveal where it had come from, but she stands in silence, her hands behind her back like a schoolgirl unable to keep a secret.
“So this came from my fairy godmother, then?” you joke. “Or maybe it was the twins—”
“If you have a fairy godmother, then so do I,” Lola chortles, shaking her head.
“Then who was it from?”
Always dramatic, Lola takes her time to respond, keeping you in suspense as she tries to suppress her laughter.
“Come on, Lola, spit it out—”
“Jihoon dropped it off while you were sleeping.”
You freeze, not expecting to hear his name. You nod slowly as shame overwhelms you, causing you to fall back onto the mattress with a grunt. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Lola interrogates, pulling you upright. “Is it the sandwich or him?”
You throw her an annoyed look, slightly irritated that you have to answer the question. “Him, obviously.” You roll your eyes.
“Well, what did he do?” Lola surmises, her voice rising. “Do we need to kick his ass? I’m gonna call Vernon.”
“What?!” you exclaim, staring at her incredulously. “No. He didn’t do anything. It was me.”
“Oh,” Lola realizes as she sits back on the mattress. “What did you do?”
“That’s kind of a loaded question, Lola,” you reply with a groan. “A lot has happened in the past day.” You pick at the cotton on your shirt, focused on the small string that’s sticking out of place.
“Try me,” Lola suggests, gently taking your hand. “What happened?”
Sighing heavily, you meet her eager gaze. “Do you want me to start with when I slapped Jihoon’s mother or skip to when I kissed Jihoon?”
Lola’s eyes widen at your revelation, and a smirk spreads across her face. “You've certainly been busy.”
“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes. A knot tightens in your stomach, and you fold your legs to your chest, hoping to ease the guilt penetrating your abdomen. “I feel bad enough.”
“About hitting his mother?” Lola gibes. “Because don’t. That woman has been a bitch since Jesus was alive.”
You let out a laugh that comes from deep within. “God, no.” You shake your head. “I will never feel bad about that, especially after the shit she said about my dad.”
“What the fuck?!” she gasps, shaking her head back. “What did she say?”
So you tell her everything—from the moment you left the house to storming out of the record store with blood dripping down your arm. You showed her the flesh wound from Mrs. Lee’s nails puncturing your skin, now puffy and swollen. You wince when Lola touches it, the tarrying sting still taking some time to get used to.
“You have a lot more restraint than me,” Lola comments, examining your arm. “I don’t think I would have been as nice and walked away. Is she crazy?”
“She’s batshit,” you grumble, anger simmering in your gut. “I could have maybe forgiven or tried to be nice to her for Jihoon’s sake, but fuck that. I am successful, not broke, and have a great life. She could die today, and I would gladly spit on her tombstone.”
Lola’s eyebrows shoot up, throwing you a tickled look. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m just saying,” you say straightforwardly. “Being back here has brought me a lot of clarity.”
“Uh-huh,” Lola hums, nudging her knee towards yours. “Would any of that clarity have anything to do with Jihoon?
Your breath catches in your throat as a sharp pain blooms in your chest at the thought of him. You dislike feeling this way about him, wishing you could see him as just an old memory without residual feelings, the intense desire that surges through your veins, or the longing in your heart that yearns to kiss him again. You never intended for this trip to become complicated; your only goal was to bury your father peacefully. But returning here has scrambled your thoughts and disturbed your peace, making it even clearer that you need to leave.
“Things with Jihoon and me are… interesting,” you admit, drawing a circle on your hand with your finger. “I don’t know if what I feel is the same love I felt when we were kids or if this is gratitude, but fuck, Lola, I haven’t been with anyone else who makes me feel the way he does.” Sighing deeply, you stand, pacing back and forth. “I keep thinking about that summer and how, for those few short months, they were the happiest of my life. Even with Daddy being accused of murder, he was there for me. Never treated me like I was dirt or someone beneath him. Jihoon made me feel seen as a person; he loved me, genuinely, and I can never forget that. Or get over that, ten years later.”
Lola hangs on to your every word, motioning for you to go on. “Even now,” you continue. “He sees me. I don’t have to be on with him all the time, reserved, or anything other than who I am. God, Lola, when he kissed me, it sparked something in me. He made me forget about all this shit with my dad and my pain and made me feel like a person again. I wasn’t just this grieving daughter, but someone who was desired and needed and maybe still loved. I don’t know what this is, as I said, it’s fucking complicated. But I know that I haven’t stopped thinking about him all this time, and after cutting him off the way I did, he is still here, wanting to be with me, I think. And that says something.”
Your chest heaves, realizing you’ve been talking without taking a breath. Your heart beats heavy and hard, as if you have several horses stomping against your ribcage. You desperately grab the bottle of Gatorade that was forgotten on the floor, untwist the cap, and guzzle it down. Lola looks at you, amused, folding her arms with a knowing look.
“What?” You pant, wiping the corner of your mouth. “Speak your mind.”
“Well, I don’t think this is complicated at all,” Lola states, rising from the mattress. She places her hands on your shoulders, leaning closer to you with a smile. “You, my friend, are in love.”
The room seems to tighten, your heart beating loudly in your eardrum. “What?”
“Love. L-O-V-E,” Lola asserts. “It’s a different kind of love, obviously, from back then. Not the same puppy love, that new feeling you get when you realize you love someone for the first time. This one is more mature and aged, and you have the beauty of a decade apart and some time spent together to bring you clarity. Why do you think your relationships haven’t worked out, Blue?”
You twist your mouth with a grimace. “They didn’t work out because they weren’t the right people for me.”
“Right, my point,” Lola points out. “Listen, they didn’t work out because you know, deep down, they don’t make you feel the same way Jihoon did. You’ve had some great potential relationships that could have lasted. Remember Solar? She was crazy about you. Or that actor who bought you roses every week just because—”
“—I told him I didn’t like roses,” you interject. “He had comprehension issues. And Solar was great, just not for me.”
“Sure,” Lola says, rolling her eyes with a soft laugh. “But every time, you say you didn’t feel fulfilled. But guess who does?”
Your spine stiffens as a wave of revelation washes over you. You’ve had a few relationships and casual dates here and there, but they just never clicked with you. You’ve been trying to fight it all this time, hoping to get somehow rid of these feelings and thinking maybe if you left town, they would leave too. But the feelings have lingered, and now you’re forced to carry it on, and accept the truth—maybe you are still in love with him.
“I have to go,” you say suddenly, the words bursting out of you before you can second-guess yourself. You dig in your bag and pull out a change of clothes and your toothbrush, undressing and throwing your shirt aside as you storm into the bathroom.
Lola blinks, surprised by your abruptness. “And where are you going?”
You peek out of the door with a gentle smile and a wink, your mind made up and your decision set. “I have to have a talk with someone.”
Jihoon sits in his truck, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, lost in thought. When he arrived at your house, Vernon met him at the door, telling him what happened. He wanted to see you first thing, and he offered to take you back to his apartment, where he could watch over you. Lola came around then and said you needed the rest and to check in on you later. He stood there, struggling with the idea of leaving you there instead of bringing you home, here, like he wanted. But he didn’t want to do too much, and he agreed to leave you be, only to come back thirty minutes later with your favorite sandwich and fries from Jollibee’s. All he could do was worry about you and hope you didn’t almost faint because of him and what happened the night before.
“Blue is going to be fine, bro,” Vernon assured Jihoon then, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. “She’s tough, and Lola will not let anything happen to her.”
Taking Vernon’s word, he left and came to the music store, tidying some things and opening for business. It is unusually busy today, with new people coming to town for the Founders Day celebration this weekend. It slipped his mind, with everything going on, and after the days he’s been having lately, he doesn’t feel much like celebrating—all his thoughts are filled with you. He played Donna Summer in your honor, nostalgia hitting him hard as he thought about the debate you two had over disco. You were a staunch supporter, and he hated it, but by the time you left the store, you made him a believer and a lover in Studio 54 and the Bee Gees. The way you reveled when you played the extended version of “I Feel Love” by Donna Summer is something he’ll never forget. It was as if you were enshrouded in dark purple light, dancing slowly to the vinyl's lyrics. Who would have known the Southsider in the graphic t-shirt, faded jeans, and sneakers was so well-versed in music?
Jihoon closed up at six on the dot, counting the money made and tidying up the store all under thirty minutes. He’s been sitting in his truck for almost an hour, wondering whether to give you space and let you rest or come back to check on you. Sure, he could easily text Vernon or Lola to get an update, but it wouldn’t be enough. Jihoon wants to be with you, even if you are asleep. He wants to relive the light snores he felt on his chest last night, when everything was good and perfect. He’s had a taste of what it’s like to have you again, and Jihoon doesn’t want to give that up so easily.
Fuck it, I’m going there.
Jihoon turns the ignition in the trunk, set to pull off and head south, when a familiar red truck pulls up to his left. The passenger side opens, followed by a pair of legs he knows so well, hopping out of the truck in jean shorts and a tank top. Jihoon’s heart patters; happiness is not even close to describing how he feels as he watches you wave goodbye to Lola. He’s starting to think maybe this is some fate.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Jihoon calls out, pleasantly surprised as he rolls down his window. “I heard you had quite the day.”
“Yeah, something like that,” you respond sheepishly, locking eyes with him. You bite your bottom lip, and he can tell you’re nervous. Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out the CD you took from the store, a limited-edition “Abbey Road” album by the Beatles. “I believe I owe this back to you,” you say, handing it over. “I just grabbed anything in my haste of anger.”
“Nah, you can keep it,” Jihoon laughs, shaking his head. “I think it’s the least I can do for my mother’s behavior.”
With a smirk, you nudge the CD against his chest. “Oh, I know,” you say. “But I deserve better than the Beatles.”
A chuckle slips out of his throat, taking back the CD. “Yeah, you definitely deserve a lot better.”
Noticing the glow on your skin and how relaxed you are puts him more at ease. You seem more well-rested, happier, and, dare he say, at peace. You smile at him softly, your eyes twinkling with something that makes him feel warm. Jihoon is enchanted, and if he stares any longer, he will get lost in your eyes.
“So you came all the way here just to return the CD?” Jihoon asks, tapping the plastic cover. “I mean, that’s nice of you and all.”
“Maybe,” you tease him, stepping closer to the truck. “Or maybe I wanted to see you.” Your smile fades as you place your hand on the rim of the lowered window. “I think we have some things we need to talk about.”
Jihoon’s pulse quickens when your fingers brush against his, the smell of your perfume intoxicating and hard to ignore. “I agree.”
“Some things were said…” Your voice trails off.
“Mmhmm,” he hums, gazing at your beauty. The wind blows randomly, swaying your air in its direction. “Some things happened as well…”
Eyeing his apartment window, you return his gaze with a knowing smile. “So, do you wanna do this at your place or mine?”
The air shifts when you walk into Jihoon’s place. Everything looks the same, still in order, but there is a tension that you can’t deny, a pull of gravity that wants to collapse in his arms and kiss him until you’re out of breath. You are the type of person who needs to understand your feelings before you believe them, and for the longest time, it didn’t make sense why your equilibrium felt off when you were with him. You were supposed to be wild beyond grief and not capable of feeling anything else but that. But damn Jihoon for making you feel good things, for making you feel what Lola thinks might be love. You left him and cut him off, and he wants you anyway. You don’t deserve him.
“Are you hungry? Do you want anything to drink?” Jihoon points towards the fridge. “I can make you another sandwich if you want.”
“No, I’m okay,” you assure him. “I’m still kind of stuffed from the sandwich you dropped off.” A warm wave washes over you, thinking about how good that meal replenished you when you needed it the most. “Thank you for that, by the way.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” he responds. “I went there to go see you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He lets out a chuckle. “ Vernon and Lola told me to beat it.”
Your eyes widen, amused by this revelation. “Oh, did they?” You laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me. They had me locked in there like I was at Fort Knox.”
“I bet,” he surmises. “They were just looking out for you.”
You nod, glancing at your feet before looking at Jihoon again. “I know.”
It falls quiet between you two, punctuated only by the faint sounds of cars and people heard from below. Your thoughts whirl like a tempest, each one vying for escape, but your words are caught in your throat. Ironic, considering you’re the best-selling author here.
“Blue, what are we doing?”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know, Jihoon.”
You study the way his brows furrow as he rubs the back of his neck. Your stomach free-falls, feeling guilty. Maybe that was the wrong answer, but you don’t want to lie to him either. “Jihoon… I don’t know what we are doing or what’s happening,” you begin. “I thought I would bury my Dad and go back to New York and pretend Carats Ridge doesn’t exist, as I have been. I didn’t expect to come back here and reconnect with you, and to feel all these things.”
Jihoon stares at you, registering what you said. “What do you feel, Blue?” Jihoon harps on your last sentence. “When you look at me, what do you feel?”
Butterflies in your stomach as you nervously step closer to him. “Present,” you answer honestly. “I don’t feel numb or dead inside when I’m with you. You make me warm and bright, and I swear to God sometimes I hear birds sing. You make my heart beat in ways I didn’t think were possible. You were the only one who went to look for me when I ran away from the funeral. You kept me safe, you keep showing up for me when I don’t deserve it, and when you kissed me, Jihoon? What we did? I have never felt that alive with anyone. It fucking scares me.” Wrought with all the pent-up feelings you kept locked in, tears fall down your face as your walls start to break. “I don’t know if what I feel is the same love that we had years ago or if it’s something else entirely, but—”
Jihoon kisses you heatedly, knocking the wind out of your chest. Jihoon, the more thoughtful, composed, and calculating of the two of you, is kissing you like his life is on the line. You’re being set ablaze all over, your hands digging in his hair and matching his same intensity. You tug at his shirt, pulling it off and throwing it out of your line of sight.
“I love you,” Jihoon breathes in between kisses. “It’s always been you, even a decade later.”
His confession makes you pause, pulling away from him slightly. “What?”
“I-love-you,” Jihoon enunciates. “I know you don’t know what kind of love you feel for me, but I can tell you mine: it’s the same way I felt ten summers ago. The same love that wanted you to stay, the very love that held out for months and years, hoping to hear from you again. I tried to bury it away, push it to the side, to pretend it didn’t exist because you weren’t in Carats Ridge. But it’s always been here, deep in the crevice of my heart, and I’m tired of fighting it. I want you—and I’m willing to take whatever you’ll give me.”
Your heart hammers against your ribs, your mind reeling as you take in his confession. Jihoon loves you and has never stopped; it’s exhilarating and terrifying. You spent a decade creating a life without him, chasing the high of falling in love with someone who makes you feel safe. When you tried to forget this town, you tried to erase him too, keeping his memory in a heart-shaped box. But some things are meant to be revisited, and you’re ready to stop running.
“I love you, Blue,” Jihoon repeated, softer this time. “Don’t leave me hanging here.”
You stare into his eyes, those same familiar, kind eyes that saw through your defenses and your bullshit. Lola was right; this isn’t the puppy love that you experienced when you were teenagers. This love is deeper, richer, packaged with time and separation that brings you more clarity. You were empty when your dad died, and yet Jihoon managed to spark something unexpected in you, and you are almost whole again.
“I love you too,” you whisper, releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “God, I love you, Jihoon, and I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.”
A visible wave of relief washes over him, a slow smile beaming on his face. “You love me?” he asks, closing the space between you two.
“Yeah,” you say, giving him a once-over. “I do.”
You kiss again, but this time it’s tender, softer, and it sets your soul on fire. Your hands trail along his abs, fiddling with his belt as his hands are on the button of your jeans, undoing in one swift move. A giggle erupts in you, happiness not even the word to describe how you feel. Something blooms in your chest, an unfiltered joy, a light finally appearing in the circle of darkness you’ve been shrouded in for weeks.
Jihoon walks you back to the futon, helping you out of your shirt and shorts before laying you down gently on the cushion. He’s enamored with you, watching you unhook your bra and slide out of your panties. You feel raw, sexy, and wanted. Taking your lips again, he lowers you onto the couch, towering over you. trailing his kisses down to your neck. He finds the sensitive part of your neck and sucks hard, sending chills throughout your body and arousal to your core. You moan in his ear, your hands finding your breasts and caressing them. You’re on an unadulterated high.
“I want you,” you mumble, lifting his face to look in his eyes. “Fuck, I need you, and I don’t want this to stop.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want, Blue,” Jihoon says earnestly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He kisses you again with a hunger that gives you a further high, his tongue dipping in your mouth. You help him out of his jeans, shoving down his briefs that freed his hardened cock, dripping with precum on your stomach. Instinctively, you reach down, thumbing it along his shaft and watching him shudder. This new side of him, surrendering to you... You like it.
“You keep doing that,” his voice wavers. “And I’m not going to last long.”
“Yeah?” you goad, pumping faster. “What if that’s what I want?”
He chuckles in your ear in short pants. “You’ll get that. But I want to taste you again.”
Jihoon slides down your body, leaving trails of kisses on your breasts. His eyes are crackling with hunger, sucking on your sweet mounds insatiably. Your legs part eagerly, anticipation sitting in your stomach. His hand brushes against your folds, feeling the slickness of your dripping heat.
“Already?” Jihoon smirks.
“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes playfully, slightly embarrassed. “I can’t help it.”
He licks his bottom lip, fixated on your center as he lowers himself. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night,” he coos, blowing a cool breath on your clit. Your legs shudder, your cunt begging to be touched, teased, and tasted. “I think I’m addicted.”
Before you can respond, his tongue flattens along your slit, lapping up your juices and sending electric jolts throughout your body. Your hips buck in response as your moans carry throughout the apartment. Jihoon groans in your cunt, so enthralled with your taste as his fingers dig into your waist. You melt further into the futon, riding a wave of the abyss you don’t want to come down from.
“Jihoon, I think…” you whine. “Fuck Jihoon, I’m—”
You cling to his hair viciously as you scream his name. He holds you down with a firm grip, refusing to let you go until he has had his fill. “Fuck, Jihoon,” you whimper. “I can’t stop cumming.”
He lifts his head slowly, his lower face covered with you as he licks his lips. “Good.”
You pull him into a fervent kiss, tasting yourself on his lips and falling deeper under his spell. His cock pokes against your leg, and it earns a giggle out of you. “Aren’t we eager?” Your finger draws a circle on his chest, right above his heart. You give him a sly grin, pulling him into another heated kiss that sets you on fire. Jihoon’s hand creeps against your leg, lifting it up slightly to give him space. Leaving you with a brief, parting kiss, he lines himself against your entrance, his tip graciously pressing against your sopping hole. You’re still coming down from your high, but you want more of this and more of him.
“I’m ready,” you smile softly. “I’ve waited so long for this.”
He enters you slowly, allowing yourself to adjust to his size, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. His thick cock makes your walls flutter, begging for Jihoon to go deeper. As if he read your mind, he picks up the pace, his eyes fixated on him going in and out of your pussy. “Give me more,” you beg, digging your nails in his shoulder. “I want all of you.”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
Jihoon pulls out and slams into you, making you gasp in surprise. The futon creaks beneath you, shoved out of place and knocking into the end table. The lamp titters before finding its balance, the light spinning in a small circle. “Careful,” you mutter. “We don’t want to go breaking things.”
“I don’t care,” he groans, forehead falling against yours. “You feel so good.”
In this moment, you realized you forgot to ask about condoms, but the way he drags his cock in and out of you as he thrusts again, throws the thought out of the window. He fucks you hard, deep, knocking the air out of your lungs. The pleasure is gratifying and dizzying, spreading through your veins until you are completely overcome.
“That’s right, baby,” Jihoon murmurs against your mouth. “Feel it.”
You kiss him hard, your nails raking down his back and leaving angry red streaks across his skin. He hisses at the sting before kissing you again, this time messy and desperate. “You don’t know,” he pants, thrusting slower, “how long I’ve thought about this.”
His hand slides between your bodies, fingers brushing against your clit in tight circles, and your entire body jolts. You gaze into his eyes, strung and fuck out, a babbling mess as you cling to his shoulders. “You…fuck” you breathe. “Don’t stop, please.”
The room fills with skin-to-skin slapping against one another, shaky breaths, and the shaky moans you’ve been trying to restrain but failed miserably. You’re completely into it all, the only thing that matters being your world in this tiny apartment and the man you never truly got over.
“You’re so beautiful, Blue,” Jihoon says suddenly, his thumb brushing against your lips. “You’ve always meant everything to me.”
Your chest aches at the sincerity in his voice and the softness in his eyes. No one has ever looked at you the way that he does. He sees all of you and loves you anyway.
Pulling him down into another kiss, you whisper breathlessly. “Then show me.”
JIhoon lets out a rough laugh that dissolves into a groan when your hips roll against his. He buries his face into your neck and loses the remaining composure he had, thrusting into you erratically, sucking on your neck hungrily. The futon edges into the end table again, knocking the lamp down and shattering it. Your bodies stayed in rhythm, your body rocking into every snap of his.
“Jihoon,” you warn, your voice throaty and wet. “I wish you could fuck me forever.”
“Good,” he mutters. “That’s the plan.”
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and Jihoon curses under his breath. His hand slips down your body, fingers pressing into your hip hard enough to bruise.
“That’s it, baby. Take it.”
His words spark something in you quickly, your orgasm crashing through you suddenly, hot and violent. You unravel loudly, barely catching your breath as your thighs shake uncontrollably. Jihoon kisses you everywhere—your forehead, the corner of your mouth, your cheek, wherever he could. He whispers he loves you over and over as his thrusts turn sloppy and desperate. With one final, deep thrust, he pulls out quickly, emptying himself on your lower stomach, letting out a deep, guttural moan. You watch him with hooded eyes, his expression turning into something tender that makes you melt. There is no one in the world who makes your heart beat the way he does.
“Are you okay?” He breathes, leaning to kiss you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shake your head with a gentle smile on your lips. “You could never hurt me.”
For a while, neither of you moves. You are still coming down from your hazy cloud nine, your skin is damp, and he breathes heavily in your ear. You wish you could stay here forever, in this apartment, and not have to deal with the real world and the reality that the happiest moment of your life took place in this fuck ass town.
“Stay with me,” Jihoon murmurs sleepily. “I’ll ask Lola to bring your stuff here until you have to leave, but please, just stay.”
A laugh escapes you, quiet and breathless as your fingers strum through his hair. “Now, why would I do that?”
He lifts up slightly, one eye closed with a lopsided grin meant just for you. “Because you love me.”
Because you love him. He isn’t wrong about that.
“Throw in breakfast, and I might consider it,” you quip, nestling back on the cushion.
A deep chuckle rumbles from him as he lays his head on your chest. This is the love that you want; the type that makes you warm and safe, with your heart in his hands without a care in the world because you know he’ll protect it. It feels like home when you’re with him. Like the summer that you never moved on from, that you will now get to experience for the rest of your life.
Three Summers Later
“We’re back with the critically acclaimed author of Blue Valentine, back with a new book and its sequel, ‘Ten Summers Later’. Welcome back YN.”
“Thank you for having me, Ginger,” you greet her warmly.
It’s been some time since your dad died, and although time heals all wounds, the scars are still there. Sometimes it’s a commercial, movie, or simply looking at your mother’s journals that remind you of him, and how much he sacrificed for you. You have your moments, especially around the anniversary of his death, but you breathe easier now. You know Daddy is looking down with your mother and is proud of you, and you will see them again when your time comes. But at least you didn’t have to go through it alone.
“I have to say,” Ginger begins, “The last time we spoke, you said ‘Blue Valentine' was one and done, and you were looking to write other things. What changed your mind?”
A slow smile slinks on your lips, your head nodding slightly as you think about your reason. “It was time, I think,” you say thoughtfully. “It’s been a long time since I revisited that story, and I thought about the place I was in when I wrote it.” You pause briefly, clearing your throat before continuing. “Some things have changed.”
“Would you like to expound on what has changed?” Ginger inquires. “I mean, look at you. You’re glowing!”
You chuckle, straightening your posture. “Thank you… And I mean my father died, and I had some time to process things and address hidden feelings that I thought I would keep buried forever. Now I’m free from that burden, and I’ve let that bloom into something beautiful.”
“Would that beautiful thing be your relationship with Jihoon, the platinum-selling recording artist?” Ginger presses. “You’ve been seen around the world together, at his shows, and it looks like you grew up together.” Ginger pulls out a yearbook from your high school, already having a page bookmarked that shows you and Jihoon’s pictures. “Was he the inspiration behind Blue Valentine?”
You smirk with a shrug. “Maybe.”
You glance at your agent, Anna, and the live audience is full of your fans who have signed copies of your new book. If someone had told you three years ago you would be where you’re at now in life, you would ask them what they were smoking. Sometimes it feels too good to be true, and you will wake up tomorrow, and it will have all been a dream. But you’re still here, still breathing and standing strong… and a part of that is because of Jihoon.
You went back to New York as you planned, and your relationship was long-distance for a while since he still had the music store. Jihoon decided to pursue music again and went viral by chance for a song he came up with in the shower. Everything was a blur after that, and he found himself with a new record deal and fame beyond his dreams. He eventually made it to New York City, to you, and you’ve been together ever since.
During that time, Jihoon had to straighten out some things for his mother, who needed full-time care for her dementia. He eventually told you about her past with your father, and it shook you to your core. Your father never talked about Mrs. Lee unless it was in relation to you, and he was so nonchalant about her that you almost didn’t believe Jihoon. It wasn’t until he pulled out an old yearbook that had them photographed as prom king and queen that you saw the truth for what it was. It didn’t change your perception of your dad, and you don’t have his side of the story, but it was something you had to sit with for a while. In a way, you could understand Mrs. Lee’s hurt and bitterness, but it doesn’t erase the way she’s treated you. You could never forgive her.
Regardless, you and Jihoon worked through it all, determined to stay connected and make it work, whatever it was. You even found yourself going back to Carats Ridge from time to time to see him, Lola, Vernon, and the kids. You still hate that town and don’t stay more than you have to, but you’re more at ease when you drive in, and you’ve learned to accept Carats Ridge for what it is. You’ve had some good memories mixed in with the bad, and with the help of your therapist, you’ve been at peace with it.
“So what should we expect with this next beginning?”
The rest of the interview flows smoothly, and when the cameras shut down, you unhook the mic before the producer can make it to your chair. Sliding out of your seat, you give a hug to Ginger before walking to your agent, who is busy typing on her phone.
“That went well?” you probe, adjusting your blouse.
“That went better than expected,” Anna beams, showing hashtags on social media. “There is a lot of buzz about your book and, of course, your relationship.”
“Yeah, I bet,” you scoff, shaking your head. “It still feels weird, being out in the open like this.”
“Aww, I can only imagine,” Anna rubs your shoulders. “But you two are solid, and it’ll get easier, I’m sure.” She looks at her watch, her eyes widening. “Oh, we have to get out of here.”
Anna rushes you into the dressing room, grabbing your belongings and practically shoving you out of the door. You wave goodbye to your fans who were waiting in the hall before getting on the elevator. It hums quietly as it goes down, the chill of the a/c sending goosebumps throughout your body. Glancing at your phone, it’s a quarter till 10, and you stifle a yawn. You’ve been up since six am getting ready, and you haven't seen Jihoon in a few weeks due to his tour. You don’t sleep well when he’s not around, and you’ve had to substitute with buying a body pillow to hold until he comes home. You miss him a lot, and there’s not enough FaceTime calls in the world that could make you feel better.
The elevator dings at the lobby, and you step out swiftly, with Anna trailing you from behind.
“So what’s the next stop?” you ask, turning to face her. “Are we doing a bookstore, or do I have a small break for a nap?”
“Neither,” Anna confirms, with a mischievous glint in her eye. '“You have other plans, ma’am.”
“Huh?” Your brows furrow. “What do you mean—hey!”
Anna slinks her arm with yours and takes you outside, taking you to a suspiciously yellow pickup, a very familiar truck that you know all so well. Standing outside of it, waiting for you is Jihoon, who looks at you with a tenderness that makes you melt. He is supposed to be on tour, across the country in California, and yet here he is, pulling you towards him with that sexy smile.
“Hi, Blue,” Jihoon greets you with a kiss. Your eyes flutter, and your knees buckle, placing your arms on his shoulder as you kiss him back. Your heart is ready to beat out of its cage, your body buzzing with excitement to finally hug your man.
“Hi,” you coo, running your fingers through his hair. “I thought you were going to be gone for another week.”
“I was, but today is an off day,” he explains, placing his hands on your waist. “And I missed you.”
“Yeah?” you respond, licking your bottom lip.
“Yeah.”
You have so much to say, but the words are caught in your throat. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you lean in for another kiss. You love him, truly, madly, and deeply, and you don’t regret the decade it took to bring you back to him. What you have is so much better than the love of that summer, and this time, you will never let him go again.
“Alright, I’m done here,” Anna announces, already walking towards the parking lot. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Mhm,” you murmur, returning your attention to Jihoon. “Let’s go home.”
summary: na jaemin has asked you out every year since you came to hogwarts. maybe this is the year you’ll say yes.
genre: fluff, angst, smut
warnings: reader is shy, slight corruption kink, penetrative sex, loss of virginity, voyeurism, fingering, cunnilingus, public sex, squirting, creampies, messy sex
You’re in your first year at Hogwarts when Na Jaemin asks you out for the first time.
The both of you are standing in the middle of the courtyard and his ears are blooming red, either from the cold or pure embarrassment. He’s holding a chocolate frog, outstretching his hand to you.
“I think you’re pretty.”
You try to ignore the fact that your friends are squealing behind you. Your eyes are only focused on Jaemin, who’s wearing his signature smile. His best friends, Jeno and Donghyuck, are snickering behind him.
You know you want to tell the Slytherin that he’s pretty too, or at least thank him for the gift, but somehow your brain completely short circuits.
Your eleven-year-old self runs away from the group and back into the Hogwarts castle, breaking Na Jaemin’s heart for the first time.
—
You’re in your second year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the second time.
Your rejection of Jaemin the previous year spread around school like wildfire. Many of your friends asked you why you turned him down, especially when he was one of the most desired boys in your year. You didn’t know how to explain that he made you extremely nervous and his declaration of affection caused you to hate the attention you started receiving.
“Jaemin’s looking at you,” Doyeon giggles in your ear.
Your eyes wander up from your Potions book to see that, indeed, Jaemin is sitting at one of the library tables across the room, focus directed at you. You swallow and return your gaze to your textbook.
“Don’t you want to ask him why he’s staring at you?” Doyeon whines at your lack of enthusiasm. “He clearly still likes you!”
The librarian shushes your table and Doyeon sticks her tongue out when they’re not looking.
You sigh. “I just want to finish my Potions essay, Doyeon.”
You can practically see her roll her eyes in response. Jaemin has tried talking to you since the incident, jumping at any chance to partner with you during your classes together. You’ve only offered him rapid blinks and slow nods in return.
You groan when Doyeon suddenly elbows your side.
“Go and get me the book we need for Charms, please.”
“What? Why can’t you get it?” You frown, eyebrows furrowed.
She sighs as if you’re the one causing a problem. She gives you one of her signature looks and you grumble, pulling yourself away from the table. When you finally find the aisle you’re looking for, you nearly gasp when you see Jaemin there too.
Oh Doyeon, you sneaky witch.
He says your name like you’ve just caught the Golden Snitch. “Nice to see you!”
You smile awkwardly, ignoring the butterflies swarming your stomach.
“Hi, Nana.”
He beams when you call him by his nickname. You falter at his clear enthusiasm. You wish you were just slightly more brave to carry a conversation with him, but you resort to clumsily searching for Doyeon’s book. You sigh when you realize it’s on the top shelf.
Before you can attempt to grab it, you feel Jaemin’s chest press against your back as he easily takes it for you. You yelp at the proximity, ignoring his cheerful smile as he hands the book over to you.
“Looking for this?”
You try your best to steady your voice. “Um, yes?”
He chuckles. “You don’t sound so sure about it.”
Despite the book being safely in your hands, he shows no signs of stepping away from you. You avoid any eye contact you could possibly make with him.
“I should get back to my table,” you whisper softly. “Doyeon probably wants to get started on her Charms homework.”
“Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”
You blink at Jaemin’s question. He’s still smiling happily, fully expecting you to say yes.
“Um, I have a lot of work to get done tonight. Potions essay and all of that.”
“Oh,” he murmurs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck and taking a step away from you. “That’s okay. Some other night then?”
“Okay!” You squeak, taking your chance and scurrying away from him. Your abrupt departure prevents you from seeing the hopeful look in his eyes.
When you return to your table, Doyeon is smirking mischievously.
“You sure took a long time getting that book.”
“I hate you.”
—
You’re in your third year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the third time.
“Dude, she’s not going out with you. It’s starting to look super desperate.”
Jeno has to physically prevent Jaemin from lunging across the Great Hall table and attacking Donghyuck.
“Hyuck,” Renjun scolds from his spot next to Jeno. “You know Jaemin’s sensitive about it.”
“Whatever,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying is that everyone knows you like her, and if she liked you, then moves would have already been made.”
“You don’t know anything,” Jaemin hisses. “She’s just shy, that’s all. She doesn’t like the attention.”
Jeno glares at Donghyuck as a signal for him to shut up. Renjun even shoves a spoonful of chicken into Donghyuck’s mouth to make sure of it.
Jaemin’s focus returns to you as you’re giggling into your hand at something Yoo Jimin says. He fondly smiles at the sight of you looking so happy from across the Great Hall. He wishes you would look that happy whenever you see him too.
His attempts at getting you to agree to a date has been less than successful to say the least. Donghyuck was right — everyone in the Wizarding World knew of Jaemin’s crush at this point, but you still showed no signs of returning his affections.
“I’m not saying Donghyuck’s right or anything,” Renjun timidly brings up, earning a warning look from Jeno. “But maybe you should try crushing on someone else. Who knows? Maybe she’ll get jealous.”
Jaemin scoffs at the idea. As if he could like anyone else but you. It sounded unbelievably pathetic, but you were all he thought about. He wanted nothing but to hold your hand and kiss you in front of everyone.
Even if it made him the running joke to the rest of the houses, he didn’t care. He only desired you.
His blood boils when he sees Shotaro approach your table, cheeks red as he asks to sit down next to you.
“What the hell is he doing?” Jaemin hisses.
Jeno coughs awkwardly. “I heard from Sungchan that Shotaro has a little crush.”
“What?” Jaemin practically yells, causing the rest of his house to shush him.
“Alright, let’s be calm about this,” Jeno says, knowing how irritated his best friend could get. “Jaemin-“
Jeno’s protests are ignored as Jaemin makes his way over to your table. Jeno runs a hand down his face, praying that Jaemin doesn’t make a complete fool out of himself.
You nearly jump out of your seat when you hear your name being called. You glance behind you to see Jaemin.
“O-Oh,” you stutter, not expecting his presence. You fail to notice Shotaro’s shoulders slump in defeat at the sight of the Slytherin. “Hi Nana.”
You pay no attention to Doyeon and Jimin’s raised eyebrows from their positions across from you. Jaemin forces his hands between you and Shotaro, creating enough distance for him to sit in the middle.
“What are we talking about over here?”
Doyeon and Jimin exchange a look before Doyeon speaks up. “Shotaro over here was just talking about going to Hogsmeade this weekend.”
“Oh? I didn’t even know Hufflepuffs went outside,” Jaemin hums. Doyeon and Jimin cover up their laughs with a cough.
“Hogsmeade trips are for all students,” you mention quietly.
Jaemin smiles at you. “That’s right! I was actually thinking about going to Madam Puddifoot’s, want to join?”
Every student knows that Madam Puddifoot’s is where all the couples go on dates. Since this is the first year you’re allowed to take weekend Hogsmeade trips, you haven’t gotten a chance to see it for yourself. However, the thought of going with Jaemin seemed way too nerve wracking.
“She would love to!” Jimin interjects, shooting you a look.
“Actually, I was going to ask her if she wanted to go with me,” Shotaro says, glaring at Jaemin.
The two boys suddenly engage in a heated staring contest, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Doyeon and Jimin, on the other hand, are thoroughly enjoying watching the current scene unfold.
“Maybe we can all go!” You say in an attempt to ease the tension.
Doyeon’s head hits the table in reaction to your stupidity. Jaemin and Shotaro turn to you with confused looks on their faces. Jimin decides to help you out.
“Actually, I just remembered we promised Minjeong we would meet her at Honeydukes to grab some sweets. Sorry boys, maybe next time.”
You squeak when Doyeon suddenly grabs your arm, and before you know it, you’re being pulled away from the table.
Once you’re out of sight, Jaemin turns to scowl at the Hufflepuff.
“Don’t even think about it. Everyone knows I like her.”
Shotaro scoffs. “Just because you like her doesn’t mean she likes you.”
“Watch it, Hufflepuff.”
“Game on, Slytherin.”
A few minutes of intense glaring occurs until Jeno and Sungchan both rush over to the table, pulling the two boys apart.
—
You’re in your fourth year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the fourth time.
The only difference this year is that you already have a boyfriend. You’ve been dating Shotaro for a couple of months, and everything seems to be going well.
The only bump in the road so far was your friends.
“Listen, I’m just saying that Shotaro is really sweet and nice, but you clearly took the easy way out,” Doyeon complains. “I know that deep down, you like Jaemin more.”
“Doyeon, I really don’t want to hear this again,” you sigh, trying your best to focus on your History of Magic homework.
Doyeon and Jimin brought Jaemin up at least once a week. Ever since you started dating Shotaro, Jaemin took a hint and spent less and less time trying to get your attention. You still noticed his lingering stares here and there, but Shotaro would always try to initiate skinship with you just to remind Jaemin who you were dating.
“What are we talking about?” Jimin asks, plopping down on the couch in the Ravenclaw common room.
“How Jaemin is better than Shotaro,” Doyeon responds.
You frown. “You know, Slytherins aren’t even allowed in here.”
The two Slytherins ignore your protests. “Oh, Jaemin is so much better,” Jimin echoes. “I think she just likes Shotaro because he’s quiet and shy like her. But Jaemin would show her a much better time.”
“Jimin!” You hiss, growing embarrassed by the second. “Can we not talk about this please? I’m dating Shotaro and I really like him.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
You try not to let their words get to you since you know Doyeon and Jimin love to tease you. The thought of Jaemin still lingers in your mind, however, and Shotaro starts to notice you distancing yourself a week later.
“Are you okay?” He asks apprehensively, almost afraid of hearing the answer. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”
“I’m fine!” You try to assure him, ignoring the worried look in his eyes. “I’m just stressed with homework, that’s all.”
He smiles and you can’t help but compare it to Jaemin. Jaemin’s smile is a little brighter and more captivating, always causing your brain to malfunction whenever he grins at you.
“You don’t need to worry. You’re the smartest girl in our year,” Shotaro assures.
You laugh nervously. “Thank you.”
A few moments pass while the two of you are walking down the hallway before Shotaro clears his throat. He seems even more anxious than you.
“Did you hear about the dance they’re hosting this year?”
“Oh,” you hum, thinking about it. You remember Doyeon excitedly chattering the details to you, talking animatedly about what kind of dress she plans on wearing and how she’s going to style her hair. Jimin was equally excited, attempting to also raise your enthusiasm about the event. “Doyeon and Jimin have been mentioning it to me.”
He beams. “Good! I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”
You sheepishly stutter. You were honestly planning on skipping the dance in favor of getting a good night’s sleep. Although knowing Doyeon and Jimin, they would never let you ditch.
“S-Sure. That sounds nice.”
Shotaro’s smile extends tenfold, and he leans down to press a kiss against your cheek. You bashfully stare at your feet, avoiding his gaze.
When you relay the information to the two girls later, they’re so excited you agreed to go to the dance that they don’t even mention Jaemin. They eagerly discuss shopping plans and hair and makeup expectations, all while you panic on the inside.
They help you pick out a gorgeous blue gown that hugs your figure, which initially makes you nervous but with a lot of assurances from Doyeon and Jimin, you grow confident in your appearance. The girls do your hair and makeup for you, giggling about how cute you’re going to look.
“If only it was for Jaemin,” Jimin hums while applying your eyeshadow.
“Hey,” you protest softly. “You said you were happy that Shotaro asked me.”
“I am!” She argues. “It’s just that I know Jaemin really likes this color on you.”
“Is that why you picked this out for me?”
When the both of them fail to answer your question, you huff. Your curiosity gets the best of you, however.
“Is Jaemin going with anyone?”
You miss the look Doyeon and Jimin exchange over your head. “I heard he asked out Yizhuo,” Jimin answers.
“Oh,” you mumble. Yizhuo was a Slytherin girl in the same classes as both you and Jaemin, so it would make sense that he asked her. You remember her being very pretty and sweet whenever you got paired for projects together.
Doyeon smiles, sensing your disappointment even though you would never admit it. She presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Just have a good time tonight, my little flower.”
“You know I’m the same age as the both of you. You don’t have to keep acting like my moms.”
You giggle when they suddenly shower you in kisses as a response.
Shotaro perks up when you finally meet him outside of the Great Hall. He’s wearing a blue tie to match your dress, and he kisses the back of your hand in greeting.
“You look beautiful,” he compliments.
“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, feeling bashful by the attention.
Some of the other houses are stopping to look at you two, murmuring to each other and making you even more nervous. Your breath catches in your throat when you meet Jaemin’s eyes across the room. He’s smiling fondly at you, his emerald green tie matching Yizhuo’s dress.
Your heart sinks a little at the sight of them looking like a perfect pair standing next to one another. Shotaro nudges you out of your trance.
“Ready to go in?”
You nod, mustering your best smile. “Born ready.”
The night, by all means, was a picture perfect fairytale. Shotaro was a perfect gentleman as he led you on the dance floor, with you feeling slightly inferior to his incredible dance skills. You exchanged a few fun twirls with Doyeon and Jimin, giggling to one another in the midst of all the sparkle and flair. Your eyes only strayed a few times to catch the sight of a certain Slytherin boy dancing with his date.
It forces you to excuse yourself to catch your breath. Shotaro offers to go with you but you insist on him staying inside and enjoying himself.
Jaemin later finds you in the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the stars.
He clears his throat to make you aware of his presence, causing you to jump at the sound.
“Sorry,” he apologizes with a chuckle, taking the spot next to you. “I didn’t know I would catch you out here.”
“I just needed a breather,” you murmur, ignoring the fact that his arm is nearly pressed against yours. “It was getting a little stuffy in there.”
“Your boyfriend didn’t want to escort you out?”
If you notice an implication in Jaemin’s tone, you make no show of it.
“No, I told him to stay. He’s a great dancer, I don’t know if you’ve seen it.”
“Oh, I’ve seen it,” he says under his breath, almost with a hint of jealousy.
You two linger in silence for a bit before he breaks it.
“It would be wildly inappropriate for me to ask you out at this moment, right?”
You blink at him, startled by the sudden question.
“I thought you came with Yizhuo?”
“Yizhuo and I are just friends,” he brushes off. “She didn’t have a date and the girl I wanted had a date of her own already.”
He eyes you carefully and you flush in embarrassment, staring down at your hands.
“Jaemin, you know Shotaro is my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”
“Nana,” you whisper, hoping the nickname will convey exactly what you want to say. To tell him that despite your conflicting feelings, you’re still dating Shotaro and don’t want to hurt him in any way.
He nods in understanding before preparing to take his leave. “Before I go, I just wanted you to know you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You took my breath away when I saw you. Shotaro’s a lucky guy and I hope he knows it.”
You watch pitifully as Jaemin heads back to the dance, ignoring the sound of your heart thumping in your ears.
—
You’re in your fifth year when Na Jaemin’s attempts start to falter for the first time.
You and Shotaro ended your relationship on good terms over the summer, agreeing that the both of you were better off as friends after holding hands started feeling too awkward. When Doyeon and Jimin found out about the amicable breakup, they were quick to get you back on your feet once you voiced your insecurities.
“Maybe it was me? Am I not pretty enough to kiss?”
They both frown, looking more disappointed than you’ve ever seen them.
“You are the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, so I have no idea where this is coming from,” Doyeon shakes her head, combing her fingers through your hair.
You’re sprawled on the floor of their shared bedroom after Jimin found a way to sneak you into the Slytherin dorms.
“You said it yourself that Shotaro and you broke up because it was too awkward. He never told you that you weren’t pretty enough to kiss,” Jimin reminds you.
“I know, I know,” you sigh. “But we just never did what normal couples do, you know? It made me start to think that it was because of me.”
“It could never be because of you,” Doyeon chides. “Besides, if you want to get kissed that bad, I know someone who would be first in line for that chance.”
It rattles you when you automatically know who she’s referring to.
“I heard he got a girlfriend over the summer,” you say quietly.
Jimin scoffs. “You heard wrong. I told you to only get gossip from me, I’m a reliable source. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about said girlfriend.”
The three of you are thoroughly surprised when you catch Jaemin the next day, hand in hand with Hyojung, a fellow Ravenclaw girl.
Jimin curses under her breath and Doyeon scolds her for not being the first one to know this new information. As the couple walk down the hallway, Jaemin’s eyes lock with yours. You both still, almost as if time has stopped in its tracks.
He’s the first one to break it, with Hyojung tugging on his arm and questioning why he suddenly stopped in the middle of the crowd. Your eyes well with tears before you stray from Doyeon and Jimin, finding an empty classroom to wallow your sorrows in.
Why were you so sad? It’s not like you had anything romantic in line for you and Jaemin. After all, you were the one who’s been rejecting him since you first stepped foot in Hogwarts.
You decide to ignore your muddled feelings for most of the first half of the year. Jaemin and Hyojung seem to be going strong and despite Jimin’s endless apologies, you insist that you’re happy for the couple and wish them all the best.
You get paired with Jeno for a Charms project as the winter season approaches. Jeno proves to be a diligent partner, equally dividing work and quietly finishing your portions of the project in the library together.
The question itches at the back of your mind one night, and you can’t stop yourself from asking.
“Jeno, how did Jaemin and Hyojung get together?”
He’s surprised by the inquiry, head tilted in confusion. “Well, their parents are friends and they used to be close when they were younger. They decided to give the relationship a try over the summer to see if it fits.”
You nod and thank him for answering. An hour passes in silence before he bites back.
“Why do you ask?”
You chew on the end of your pencil nervously. “I was curious. They just seemed to get together out of the blue.”
He studies your expression carefully. “You broke up with Shotaro over the summer, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” you reply awkwardly. “We decided it wasn’t a good fit for us.”
He hums in understanding.
The two of you finish your homework session without any more probing questions, and Jeno is fast to locate his Slytherin best friend afterwards.
Jaemin is startled when Jeno almost runs him over outside of the Slytherin dorms.
“What’s up with you?”
Jeno huffs, out of breath from rushing all around Hogwarts in search of him.
“Things with you and Hyojung — they’re not serious, right?”
Jaemin shrugs. “She’s pretty and nice. It’s not a bad relationship.”
“But it’s not a really good one either?”
“I mean, I guess so. Why are you asking?”
“A certain Ravenclaw girl just asked me about you,” Jeno divulges. “She asked me about you, Jaemin. You were far from any topic of conversation and she was the one to bring you up first.”
Jaemin freezes at the revelation. He spent the whole summer trying to forget about you, accepting that you were happy with Shotaro and perhaps Donghyuck was right, he was starting to look pathetic chasing after you. Hyojung’s family came to visit one day in August and after seeing how heartbroken he was, she suggested they begin a relationship to try and get him to move on. He agreed, mainly because his parents always loved Hyojung and he needed to get his mind off of you.
As twisted as it sounds though, Hyojung could never compare to you.
He doesn’t understand why you’ve enraptured him like this, it was just supposed to be a silly crush. He never expected to see flickers of you when he would kiss his girlfriend or think of your laugh when he’s holding someone else’s hand.
He shakes his head from the thought.
“Jeno, I can’t. You know I spent so much time getting over her.”
His friend rolls his eyes. “And how did that work out? You still look like a love struck puppy whenever she walks by and Hyojung is still convinced she can get you to love her. Wake up, dude.”
Jaemin presses the palm of his hands to his eyes, desperately trying to erase the fantasies floating through his head.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I thought I already spelled it out for you. Free Hyojung from her misery and get your girl.”
When Jaemin approaches Hyojung the next day, his heart sinks in his chest as he registers the devastated look on her face.
“What? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,” he assures her. “I just don’t think this is working out. I haven’t been feeling any sparks.”
Her eyes well with tears and Jaemin starts to feel guilty.
“Is this about her? Are you seriously still not over her? We’ve been together for nearly five months, Jaemin!” Her sadness quickly shifts to unadulterated rage, glaring at him and hoping he’ll sink into the ground. “How could you lead me on this whole time?”
“I wasn’t trying to, Hyojung, I swear,” he promises, but they’re clearly empty to the girl in front of him.
“Go fuck yourself, Na Jaemin.”
You find Hyojung crying in the Ravenclaw common room that day. You pause when you see her crumbling on the couch with her best friend, Soeun, comforting her. They scowl when you come into their view.
“There she is, the homewrecker herself,” Soeun sneers at you.
You have no idea why the two girls are suddenly bashing on you. You hold your arms closer to your chest defensively.
“W-What?”
Hyojung stands and approaches you until she’s inches from your face.
“I don’t know why he finds you so special. You’ve never once given him the time of day yet he’ll bend over backwards to have you,” she hisses, expecting the words to sting for you.
You blink. “Who are you talking about?”
She laughs and it’s one of those hollow, maniacal laughs that sends shivers down your spine.
Soeun joins in, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at you condescendingly. “We’re not falling for your little innocent schoolgirl act. You know Jaemin and Hyojung’s parents were already planning their wedding, right? How sick of you to insert yourself into a relationship and break it apart.”
The two girls continue to berate and belittle you until the whole of Ravenclaw is convinced you’re a nasty homewrecker. You leave the common room in tears, finding solace in one of the nearby alcoves.
That’s how Jaemin finds you — sobbing into your hands and feeling the most low you’ve ever felt in your entire Hogwarts stay.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
He tries to pry your hands away from your eyes to talk to you, but you pull away from him like you’ve just been burned.
“Get away from me!” You demand, turning away from him and sniffling softly to yourself.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice filled with distress. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to know why you’re crying, and if I can help at all.”
You spin back around to face him. Jaemin’s heart cracks at the sight of you looking so defeated.
“Why would you break up with Hyojung because of me?” You question in a small voice, trying to stop your tears.
He stutters. “I-I didn’t break up with her because of that. The relationship never felt right.”
“Well, that’s not what she’s saying. I don’t understand why you’re so intent on ruining my life, Nana.”
“What? I would never ruin your life!”
“But you have!” You cry, not caring how unattractive you are at this moment. “You give me all this attention that I never asked for as soon as I get to Hogwarts, and suddenly everyone is referring to me as the girl who rejected Na Jaemin. Then I get a boyfriend and you’re lurking around every corner, praying for me to break up with him. And then you get a girlfriend, crush her heart, and now she’s accusing me of being a homewrecker!”
Realization washes over his features and he takes a step back from you.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, this is all my fault. I’ll clear up whatever Hyojung started and I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry.”
You watch him disappear around the corner, throwing you one last sorrowful glance.
After you relay the day’s events while crying in Doyeon and Jimin’s arms, you wonder if you would ever speak to Jaemin again.
—
You’re in your sixth year when you haven’t spoken to Na Jaemin since the start of the term.
Hyojung approaches you when you return from the summer break, guilt-ridden by her behavior.
“I’m so sorry for saying all of those things about you. It was really immature of me to start those rumors, especially knowing that it was Jaemin’s fault, not yours. I was just angry and looking for someone to blame. I hope you can forgive me.”
You smile shyly and nod. “Thank you for apologizing. I’m sorry again for what you had to go through.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t have to say that to me. I’m going to clear up all those nasty things people are saying about the situation so please, let’s just try to move past it.”
The first few months of the term pass by quickly, with all of the rumors about you being squashed by both Hyojung and Jaemin. Soon enough, people are finding new gossip to discuss and your incident fades into the background.
You try to accept that you’ll never speak to Jaemin again. He’s completely turned into a ghost of the person you once knew. He no longer smiles whenever people call his name in the hallway or jokes around with Jeno and Donghyuck in the Great Hall.
He becomes a true, stereotypical Slytherin — emotionless and disinterested.
It concerns you, honestly. However, your friends have ruled it to be none of your business.
“But he’s just so lifeless! I just want to make sure he’s doing okay.”
Doyeon waves a finger at you like a mother scolding her disobedient toddler. “He should be the furthest thing from your mind. You need to be focused more on your studies and less on boys.”
You really start to feel like a rebellious teenager when Jimin places her hands on your shoulders and pushes you down to sit on the edge of her bed.
“One day, you’re going to grow up and realize we are just trying to do what’s best for you,” she clicks her tongue.
You frown. “It wasn’t even a year ago when you two were encouraging me to come out of my shell and date Jaemin!”
“Yes, and that was before he made you cry and got the whole school to believe you were trying to break relationships left and right,” Doyeon says, arms flailing about. “We don’t trust him like we used to.”
“Turns out he really was just a man,” Jimin sighs, shaking her head.
Despite their disapproval, you search for Jaemin that night to try and open a civil conversation with him. You want him to know that you don’t blame him for what occurred the previous year and it would be best for you both to try and move on.
You’re about to turn the corner to the Slytherin dorms when you hear a sharp gasp.
You shield yourself behind a pillar, eyes peeking out to identify the cause of the sound. You nearly choke when you see Jaemin has Lee Seojeong pressed up against the wall, his fingers hidden underneath her skirt.
Jaemin hisses lowly. “Keep quiet. You said you would.”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers in apology. Her sorrows soon turn into cries of lust, gripping Jaemin’s shoulder tightly.
You’re frozen in your spot, unsure of what to do. Your heart is thumping wildly in your ears and you’re ashamed to admit the arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach.
You can see Seojeong is finding it harder and harder to muffle her cries and just before she reaches her high, Jaemin’s eyes suddenly flicker over to zero in on you.
Surprise fills his features as much as it does yours, and you both ignore that Seojeong has already tipped over the edge. Jaemin withdraws his fingers from her, still staring intensely at you.
Mortified by getting caught, you quickly turn and run back to Doyeon and Jimin’s room, praying the world will swallow you whole.
Much to your chagrin, the world is not on your side.
The next day, your Charms professor announces a class project, sharing that he’s already paired up the class. And, of course, you find yourself with the Slytherin boy you’re trying your best to avoid. You’re incredibly embarrassed when Jaemin approaches your desk.
“Um,” you say bashfully, trying your best to not look at him. The burn of his stare from the previous night is still ingrained in the back of your mind. “I think we should divide the work evenly. I can start researching the history while you can look into the process of casting the charm.”
Jaemin, on the other hand, is enjoying watching you squirm. Ever since last year’s incident, he’s built up a few walls to shield himself from the lingering stories in the Hogwarts castle. He blames himself for causing you so much heartbreak and promised at the start of sixth year that he wouldn’t let people in as easily as he used to. He really only talks to Jeno and Donghyuck now, ignoring the rest of his classmates who are probably only using him as fodder to feed the lurking gossip.
As for Seojeong, she’s one of the many girls he’s been hooking up with to take his mind off of you. He accidentally slipped up a few months ago when he said your name in the midst of his release with another girl, encouraging even more people to whisper about you and him. Luckily, he shut it down before word ever got to you. He’s been a lot more careful with his restraint since then.
He never expected to meet your gaze while he was fingering Seojeong outside of the Slytherin dorms.
And he won’t lie if someone asked him if he has fantasized about your curious eyes watching him pleasure someone else before.
“That sounds fair.”
You nod at his short response, still refusing to meet his stare. You quickly gather your books in your arms.
“I-I’ll meet you at the end of the week to discuss what I find then.”
You don’t tell Doyeon or Jimin what happened that night. They question you when you return to their dorm a little frazzled and panicked, but you say that you simply saw a bug in the hallway that creeped you out.
They buy your excuse then, but grow increasingly more suspicious when you continue to act on edge for the rest of the week.
“Alright, what in Merlin is going on with you? You heard a chair squeak and I swear you jumped out of your skin,” Doyeon says, eyes narrowed at you.
Jimin leans forward on the library table to get a closer look at your flushed expression.
“N-Nothing!” You stutter, fingers rolling through the fabric of your skirt nervously. “I’m just- um, I’m just-“
They watch you flounder, eyebrows raised as you struggle to find the right words.
“Could I ask you both a question? And you have to promise that you won’t ask me any follow-up questions in return.”
Doyeon and Jimin exchange a glance before nodding hesitantly.
“Go ahead.”
You take a deep breath. “Have you two ever, you know, been with someone? Like on an intimate level?”
A moment of silence passes before questions erupt from the two.
“Is someone trying to pressure you into having sex?”
“Oh Merlin, do we have to go and kill someone? Who’s trying to put their hands on you?”
You swiftly shush them, turning your head to check if anyone in the library is eavesdropping in on you.
“You promised,” you whine.
They sigh, clearly stressed from the idea of you being pressured into anything.
Jimin speaks first. “Yes, I have. It was awkward and not that fun, if I’m being honest.”
Doyeon hums in agreement. “Definitely more pleasurable for the guy than the girl most of the time.”
“Okay,” you drawl, trying to figure out how to ask them what you’re really wondering. “So it was a one time thing? You weren’t in a relationship with them?”
They nod. You huff, pondering over the idea. You would never admit your jealousy, but the image of Jaemin pleasuring Seojeong chilled you to your core. Your mind has been swirling with frenzied thoughts all week — were they dating now? When did Jaemin suddenly start fingering girls in public? Did this mean he really wanted nothing to do with you anymore? And lastly, how did you fall so far behind your classmates sexually?
A tap on your shoulder takes you out of your trance. Doyeon and Jimin’s expressions have suddenly turned stern, lips pursed at whoever has approached your table.
“Hey, you ready to discuss our project?”
Your eyes flit up to catch the boy that has been haunting your dreams. Jaemin’s fingers brush through his hair casually, and you speculate if he knows how attractive he looks.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” you reply nervously, taking your notebook and standing to walk with him.
Doyeon says your name with fervor before you can leave. “Maybe one of us should go with you. Or you can talk about your project here.”
You don’t miss her implication and the fact that the former topic of conversation has them theorizing that Jaemin is the one bringing your sexual awakening to light.
“I think we’ll be fine,” Jaemin answers for you, ignoring their glares and escorting you to another table towards the back of the library.
You avoid his gaze as much as possible when you sit down, opening your notebook and immediately diving into the details of the Bubble-Head Charm.
“The charm can be dated back for centuries, and many wizards believe it was created to help them swim underwater-“
“Did you enjoy the show?”
His sudden question brings you out of your notes, and for the first time in a week, you take a look at him.
He’s studying you fiercely, eyes piercing into the depths of your soul.
“What show?” You ask in confusion, not understanding how this could possibly be related to your project.
“I don’t usually like an audience when I’m trying to help someone on the brink of their climax,” he says unabashedly. Your breath catches in your throat. “I find that I don’t mind it when it’s you though.”
“I think we should focus on the project, Nana,” you whisper, not realizing how easily the nickname has slipped from your lips.
“You’re still going to call me that?” He asks, eyes unexpectedly clouded with fury. “Still going to act like the innocent girl when you played the little voyeur for me?”
“Jaemin,” you say quietly, your body flaring with an equal weight of lust and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on you and Seojeong.”
He scoffs. “You think I care about her? I bet you pictured yourself in her place, hm? Begging for me to help you cum, looking so desperate for me in a public space,” he laughs, keeping his voice low for only you to hear his crude words. He drinks in your appalled expression. “What? Do you miss when I was the nice boy for you, helping you grab a book when you couldn’t reach it on your own? Chasing after you with my tail tucked between my legs?”
He moves his chair until he’s seated right beside you, hand resting on the inside of your thigh. You jolt at the contact, praying he doesn’t discover your wetness soaking through your panties.
“Or do you like it better when I’m straightforward like this? Telling you exactly how I want you?”
His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his breath hitting your cheek. If you move just a little closer, you could probably kiss him-
Another hand suddenly grabs your elbow, pulling you away from Jaemin’s hold.
“Get away from her!” Jimin growls while Doyeon starts to collect your things, shoving it in your bag hurriedly.
“Don’t even think about touching her again.”
Your friends whisk you away from the table, leaving Jaemin with a raging hard-on and eyes full of determination.
—
You’re in your seventh year when you desperately want Na Jaemin to kiss you.
The tables have turned quite exceptionally. Contrary to previous years, you find yourself pursuing the Slytherin boy.
After last year’s encounter in the library, you convinced Doyeon and Jimin that Jaemin’s advances were wanted by you. You had to sit them down and explain to them that yes, your questions about sex were Jaemin-related and no, they did not have to act like your moms all the time. They still held their reservations when it came to Jaemin and you, and you couldn’t blame them. Your history together was confusing to say the least, but now you could actually say you were starting to recognize the feelings you had for him.
The only problem was that Jaemin seemed to lose all interest in you.
Jimin relayed to you the information about Jaemin ceasing all communication with the girls he normally hooked up with, which you took as a good sign, but was disappointed when he made no advances to contact you again.
You failed your Charms project with him because you two couldn’t find the courage to approach one another to resume the study. Instead, you threw heart eye glances to him for the rest of the term, which he easily ignored.
You shyly approach Jeno and Donghyuck on the first day of seventh year.
“I’m sorry, what? Did you just say that you like Jaemin?”
Donghyuck is incredulous, rubbing his eyes and hitting his ears to make sure he’s seeing and hearing you correctly.
Beside him, Jeno simply smirks in understanding. “I was wondering when you’d finally admit it.”
You cower underneath their stares. “I was just going to ask if either of you know if Jaemin likes me too. I don’t think he does anymore so I want to get confirmation.”
Donghyuck laughs. “Are you kidding me? The kid moans your name in his sleep so I think it’s safe to say-“
He yelps when Jeno pinches his side, glaring at him.
“What this idiot is trying to say is that yes, Jaemin likes you. He’s only liked you since we arrived at Hogwarts and we fear he’ll only like you until he dies. I don’t know why you would think otherwise,” Jeno hums, eyebrow raised in questioning.
“Well,” you drone, twiddling your thumbs nervously. “He hasn’t talked to me at all since last year and he doesn’t treat me like he used to. He’s completely iced me out.”
Donghyuck laughs again. “Doubt that. Remember just yesterday when he accidentally said her name when he was talking to Minjeong?”
Jeno pinches his side once more and Donghyuck whines painfully in exaggeration.
“Again, what this idiot is trying to say is that maybe Jaemin is waiting for you to make the first move. He’s made his intentions pretty clear, you know, so I think the ball’s in your court.”
You ponder over Jeno’s words all week, eyes drifting to Jaemin’s figure more than you would possibly admit during classes. Doyeon and Jimin speak the Gryffindor bravery into you as you proceed towards his table in the library — the same table he cornered you at last year.
“Hi,” you squeak, fingers gripping your books to your chest for dear life.
He looks up at you, facial expression remaining neutral.
“Hi.”
“Can I- um, can I sit here?”
He nods and you take the seat beside him. Your whole body is nearly shaking from anxiety but you push through it.
“I wanted to talk to you because- well, I talked to Jeno and Donghyuck and they made me realize that it was my turn to talk to you first. I know things have been weird since the Hyojung incident and I wanted you to know I don’t blame you for that at all! I know it sounded like I was blaming you but then I realized it was just a misunderstanding and I was so overwhelmed by my emotions-“
He places a hand on your arm, stopping your rambling from continuing.
“Take a deep breath,” he says, thumb rubbing circles on your skin in comfort. “Relax. It’s just me.”
You huff and shake your head. “But that’s why I can’t relax. Because it’s you.”
His fingers move to brush the stray hairs from your face, slowly advancing downwards to caress your cheek. You recognize the slightest hint of a smirk ghosting his lips.
“Yeah? You get nervous because of me?”
You nod sheepishly. “You always make me nervous, Nana.”
His eyes darken at the nickname. “You know, you’re the only one who still calls me that.”
“Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, should I stop saying it?”
Your breath hitches when his fingers trail across your bottom lip.
“You never answered my question.”
“H-Huh?”
“About whether you liked me when I was following you around like a pathetic little boy or when I’m direct with my feelings like this,” he murmurs, thumb resting on your tongue. “Suck.”
You almost moan at the instruction, wrapping your lips around the digit. Jaemin curses under his breath, drinking in your innocent eyes blinking back at him.
You pull away to respond. “I like you. I don’t care what you do — I just like you.”
“Aren’t you the fucking sweetest?” He grunts, no longer able to hold himself back as he lunges forward.
You gasp and place a hand on his chest before his lips could collide with yours.
“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
He pulls back, eyebrows furrowed. “But you and Shotaro-“
“We just held hands,” you say meekly, ashamed to admit your lack of experience. “It felt too weird to kiss him.”
He suddenly stands and begins to gather his things, and your shoulders deflate. He probably doesn’t want to be with you anymore now that he knows you’re the virgin who’s never been kissed.
You’re surprised when his hand wraps around yours and he tugs you along. He pulls you out of the library and you try your best to keep up with him.
“Jaemin, where are we going?”
You seem to get your answer when you land in front of the Slytherin dorms. Jaemin quietly mutters the password to enter and you find yourself being led to a grand staircase, realizing he’s bringing you to his dorm room.
“Hey! She can’t be here!” A voice calls from the bottom of the staircase. You’re about to excuse yourself out of humiliation but Jaemin’s grip tightens on your hand.
“Go fuck yourself, Doyoung.”
“Na Jaemin!”
Once you enter Jaemin’s room, you blink at the sight of Yangyang and Donghyuck sitting on the floor, playing a game of Exploding Snap.
“Get out,” Jaemin barks.
They look up and frown, eyes moving back and forth from him to you.
“But it’s nearly midnight-“
“Get the fuck out.”
They both grumble, taking their card game and exiting the room.
“You didn’t have to kick them out,” you start to mumble, but shriek when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling your body to his.
His nose brushes against yours, and you squirm in his hold. He looks so pretty up close, and you ponder if anyone could be more perfect than him.
“Can I kiss you?”
“You still want to?”
“I’ve always wanted to, sweetheart.”
You stutter. “O-Okay.”
Your first kiss is magical. Jaemin’s lips are so soft against yours, and you melt underneath his touch. At first, the kiss is delicate and gentle, with him holding you like you could break at any second. Then, the kiss shifts into something more carnal and desperate, the weight of his body pressing closer and closer to you. His tongue begs for entrance past your lips and you easily grant it, allowing him to nearly swallow you whole.
You rub your thighs together desperately. “Nana,” you whimper.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
You have no idea how to tell him what you want, so you decide to show him instead. You grab his hand and move it until it disappears underneath your skirt, hovering dangerously close to your core.
He chuckles into your mouth. “Maybe we should take it slow. You just had your first kiss.”
“But I want more,” you whine. “I want what you gave to Seojeong.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His head moves downwards to press kisses along the side of your neck. “I dreamed of doing this to you nearly every night. I always wondered what pretty sounds you would make for me.”
“Wait,” you stop him and he stills, lips a few inches away from grazing your collarbone. You timidly ask, “Can I be your girlfriend?”
He smiles, raising his head to peck your lips. “You’re so perfect. You can be whatever you want, baby. I’ll buy a ring for you tomorrow if you want it.”
You giggle. “Quit teasing me.”
“It’s cute that you think I’m teasing,” he hums, voice filled with mischief. “It’s cute that you think I wouldn’t get on my knees for you and do whatever you asked.”
You swallow when he does, in fact, get on his knees for you. He pushes up your skirt so that he’s staring directly at your pretty pink panties, all cotton with a little bow in the front. You wish you had worn a sexier pair today, but you would never have guessed you’d be in this position.
You squeak when his mouth messily envelops your cunt, his tongue desperately pushing against the fabric.
You hear him grunt. “Smell so good, baby. Your pussy’s dripping for me.” His fingers hook onto the sides of your underwear, pulling it down your thighs slowly. “Do you touch yourself, sweetheart?”
You flounder. “I tried once,” you confess shakily. “I didn’t really know what I was doing.”
“Oh yeah?” He purrs, running a finger through your folds, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “When did that happen?”
You struggle to piece a sentence together. “The n-night after I caught you and S-Seojeong. I couldn’t stop t-thinking about it.”
He clicks his tongue. “Dirty girl. You touched yourself thinking about me pleasuring someone else? You liked watching us, didn’t you?”
You whimper. “You were right — I wanted to be her so badly.”
You cry when his mouth wraps around your clit, sucking tightly. You almost fold in on yourself but Jaemin steadies you, hands gripping the back of your thighs to make sure you stay in place.
“Nana,” you beg. “That feels so good. Please don’t stop.”
However, he does withdraw himself from your cunt, evoking a mewl from you.
“No, no, please-“
He guides you towards the bed and you tilt your head in confusion when he lays down first, gesturing for you to join him.
“Come here, baby. Sit on my face.”
You blink. “W-What? That’s dangerous!”
He laughs. “Trust me, dying while eating your pussy is probably the best way to go.”
You hesitate. “Nana…”
“It’s okay, sweet girl. It’ll feel really good, I promise. And if I drown in your cunt then you can cast that Bubble-Head Charm to save me.”
“Nana!”
You decide to trust him after a brief deliberation, awkwardly maneuvering your way onto the bed and hovering over his face.
“Are you sure this is safe?”
Instead of verbally responding, he grabs a handful of your ass and plants you down until your core sits directly on his mouth. You frantically reach for the headboard to steady yourself, unable to stop the moans crawling out of your throat.
He eats you like you’re his last meal, tongue lapping at your folds and sucking on your clit. You’ve never been touched like this before — never been wanted so desperately by a man who’s willing to cut off his source of breathing just to get a taste of you. You move one hand to grip at his hair, tugging at the strands whenever a sensation grows to be too much for you.
Jaemin is locked in on a mission to get you to your orgasm. The idea of him being the first person to help you reach your climax is so incredibly arousing that he could honestly cum untouched.
You gasp when pleasure spreads across your entire body, accidentally rolling your hips to ride Jaemin’s tongue. He moans in encouragement, using his hands to guide you as you use him like a toy.
“J-Jaemin-“
He sucks your clit hard, and that sends you over. Frantic whimpers spill from your lips as you release onto his awaiting tongue. Your thighs tremble from the intensity of your orgasm, all while Jaemin laps at your gushing wetness.
The pleasure shifts to discomfort from oversensitivity and he finally allows you to draw back. You grow flustered when you pull away and see the smear of your arousal covering his face. He eagerly licks his lips and sighs in content.
Your embarrassment multiplies tenfold when you realize what you’ve done, frantically shuffling away and pulling your underwear back up your legs.
“Where are you going, baby?” He murmurs, wrapping a hand around your wrist and pulling you back to the bed. Your back meets his chest and he hums, pressing kisses to your throat.
“T-That was s-so-“
“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Are you feeling dirty now that you let a silly boy eat your little cunt?”
You squirm. “Jaemin-“
He shushes you gently. “Poor baby. You want a little more? I know your pussy’s aching for it.”
Your eyes trail downwards to the bulge in his slacks, looking like he’s about to burst through the seams.
“Will it hurt?” You ask softly, feeling slightly intimidated.
“A little bit, but I’ll help you through it.”
You nod. “O-Okay.”
He starts to move you so that you’re lying down on the bed, but you wrap a hand around his to stop him.
“Can we stay like this? I like it when you hold me this way.”
His arm snakes around your middle and he tugs you closer. “Of course, baby. You’re going to have to be patient, okay? Just take a deep breath and trust me.”
You whine when his fingers dance around the inside of your thighs.
“What are you doing?”
“Have to stretch you first or else it’s going to hurt more, okay?”
You tentatively nod and he takes your panties off for good, flinging them across the room. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm so you nearly blubber when he pushes a finger inside of your dripping hole. The sensation feels both foreign and otherworldly, almost like an itch you’ve been dying to scratch. You cry when he curls his finger, sending shockwaves up your spine.
He tilts your head to the side so he can plant another kiss to your lips. He distracts you from a second finger joining the first as he slowly thrusts both up into you.
“Doing perfect, sweetheart,” he sighs into your mouth. “So so perfect for me. Going to add one more, alright?”
“Okay, Nana.”
He whispers more praises in your ear while you somehow find a way to fit three of his fingers inside your tight pussy. You roll your hips to feel more of him, completely stuffed full.
“That’s a good girl. Ride my fingers, baby.”
Your body reacts before your mind does, lewdly dripping down his hand as you chase another impending orgasm. Your mind is clouded by a haze of lust, feeling like an animal in heat with the way you eagerly push onto his digits.
“I think I’m gonna-“
“I know, baby. Go ahead, I’m right here,” he coaxes.
All it takes is a few more twists of your hips and his thumb flicking over your abused clit for you to cum. You shudder, cunt pulsing around him as you come down from your high. You whimper when he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking up remnants of your wetness.
“How did that feel?”
You squeak. “It felt good.”
He smiles and kisses you once more. “Pretty girl. Want to take my cock now?”
You nod shyly, allowing him to unzip his pants and unsheath his length. Your eyes widen slightly at the size of him, his cock angrily red and tip leaking.
“That looks like it hurts,” you comment on his swelling shaft as he adjusts your bodies so that your cunt is hovering over him.
“It does, sweetheart. And you’re the only one who can make it better. Now take a deep breath for me.” You obey his command, inhaling and exhaling slowly to prepare yourself. He turns your head again to look at him. “You don’t have to say it back, but I love you, okay? Loved you since our first year here. Want to make this feel good for you.”
Your eyes suddenly well with tears. “I love you too, Nana. And I trust you, more than anyone else.”
His grin is blinding and his lips smack against yours, the tip of his cock slowly pushing into your waiting cunt. You painfully whine and he holds you tighter, reminding you to relax and breathe. He drives you lower and lower until you’re nearly halfway down his cock, and you gasp loudly. His thumb returns to your clit, circling the bud gently to help you along.
“Doing okay, sweetheart?”
You shake your head. “Y-Yeah, keep going, Nana.”
He sings praises in your ear until he’s bottomed out and you were definitely wrong before — this is what it feels like to be completely stuffed full. He lets you adjust to his size until your tiny cries of discomfort shift into whimpers of pleasure.
“Going to start moving now. Tell me if it’s too much, baby.”
He gives an experimental thrust that has you moaning.
“Good, good,” you breathe, encouraging him to keep going.
He starts pushing into you gradually, groaning at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped tightly around his cock.
“I’m not going to last, baby.”
You squeal when his thrusts increase speed, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.
“Ungh, ungh, ungh-“
Vulgar sounds echo in the tiny dorm room with your wetness leaking down Jaemin’s cock and his skin slapping against yours forcefully. You feel like you could easily come again, but your mind screams at you that something’s missing.
“Nana?”
He’s drilling into you now, trying his best to move you up and down his cock at a rapid pace.
“Yeah, baby- fuck,” he hisses, not knowing if you realize how your pussy constantly clenches around him. “What is it?”
“Can you kiss me?”
He swears he’s been blessed by Merlin himself to have a girl as sweet as you. He grants your wish, enveloping his lips with yours and swirling his tongue inside your mouth sloppily.
The simple gesture is enough to serve as the snap to your third orgasm. He moans when he feels your cunt spasm, and he finally releases his warm seed deep into your womb.
You both try to catch your breath as you come down from your high. He kisses you again, and it’s a messy mix of saliva and tongues, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I really liked that,” you confess, and he laughs.
“Good, because we’re going to be doing it a lot from now on. I’m not wasting any more time with you.”
—
You’re about to graduate from Hogwarts when Doyeon and Jimin can’t find you.
You’re meant to be boarding the enchanted boats soon — a ritual that all seventh years take during the end of their Hogwarts stay. All three of you promised to take a boat together, but your two friends can’t seem to find you anywhere.
“Do you think she got kidnapped?”
“Why do you always jump to kidnapping?” Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “I bet you Jaemin just couldn’t take his paws off of her.”
And they would be very correct as Na Jaemin is currently pounding you in the Charms classroom, fingers crumpling your skirt as he watches his cock disappear into your pussy.
“W-We’re gonna m-miss the boats,” you moan, clutching your desk and whining pathetically.
“Don’t give a fuck. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me get my share of this pussy last night.”
“I was hanging out with Doyeon and Jimin! It was our last night in the castle together.”
“Yeah, just like it’s my last time getting to fuck you in this classroom.”
He thrusts into the particular spot that has you keening, back arched as you moan loudly. Usually, your boyfriend would try to keep you quiet, but considering today’s your last day of schooling, he doesn’t see the point.
What could they do, expel you? You already finished all of your exams.
A screech erupts in the doorway and he hears Jimin’s infuriated voice.
“I told you! Jaemin, give the girl a break!”
You cry as you reach your climax, squirting all over Jaemin’s cock and scattering your wetness across the floor. He groans and buries himself deep inside of you, spurting ropes of his cum until his cock begs him for some rest.
“They say when you raise kids that you should expect the day they disappoint you. I didn’t know that this is what they meant,” Doyeon sighs.
You quickly fumble to pull on your skirt and Jaemin tucks himself back into his slacks.
“It smells awful in here! How long have you two been going at it?” Jimin hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“A couple of hours,” he replies with a smirk, wincing when you hit his chest as a warning.
You shakily stand and try to make yourself look presentable. “I’ll be right there!” You call out to your friends, ignoring the perturbed look on their faces. You would normally be ashamed, but that feeling disappeared months ago when they constantly caught you and Jaemin fucking in almost every inch of the castle.
Before you can leave, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in for another kiss.
“I’ll see you on the train, baby?”
“You can’t fuck her on the train!”
You both breeze past Jimin’s comment.
“I’ll see you there. Love you.”
“Love you. And hey, I think you’re pretty.”
You giggle and press your lips to his again.
Doyeon and Jimin take you away before the kiss can progress into another round of fucking.
Na Jaemin—your best friend, the one person who’d always been there for you, comes to help you back to your feet again. But is it too late to finally see him for what he truly is?
Campus Confessions master list
Genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, smut
Pairing: Na Jaemin x afab!reader
Warnings: sloooow burn, explicit sexual content
Notes: 24k words. Part 5/5 of the Campus Confessions series, but can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to long story short by Taylor Swift.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.
playlist: long story short by taylor swift, friends by ed sheeran, clean by taylor swift
The school was packed. Students and visitors crowded the halls, their chatter and laughter echoing off the walls. The international high school science fair had taken over the campus, drawing in visitors and competitors from different schools—and different countries—but you couldn’t care less about any of it.
You checked your phone for the nth time, then sighed, shifting the cold cup of iced coffee in your hands. Your hand had started to numb, and your patience was running thin as you tapped your finger on the cup. The coffee was for Jaemin, something to hold him over until you both could finally leave and get proper food. But he was taking too long.
It was his birthday, and all you wanted was to take him to your favorite pizza place after he finished whatever student council errand had him running around. He had promised he’d be quick, but it had been twenty minutes since.
Just as you were about to text him, a pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind. “BOO.”
You jolted, the coffee slipping from your grip. The lid popped off upon impact, ice and liquid splashing onto your uniform. A sharp gasp left your lips as you turned to find Jaemin grinning, completely unbothered.
“Are you kidding me?” You gawked at him, arms lifted away from your body as the cold sank into your shirt. “Jaemin!”
His hands shot up in mock surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d scare that easily.”
“You jumped me!” You gestured at your now-stained uniform. “And now I’m soaked. Great. Happy birthday to you.”
Jaemin laughed, stepping back just as you raised your hand to smack his arm. “Relax. You can just buy me a new one.”
“Go buy yourself a new one,” you retorted, shoving the half-empty cup into his hand. You huffed, marching past him toward the school gates.
He gulped the remaining contents of the cup and caught up with you, while you tugged at your damp collar, scowling. “You took forever, my hand’s numb, and now I’m freezing.”
“Don’t you have a handkerchief on you, or something?” he asked, unzipping his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.
“I did have one,” you muttered, standing still as he adjusted his jacket on you and zipped it up. “But some guy needed it, so I gave it to him.”
Jaemin scoffed, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t be giving out your stuff to just anyone,” he chided, patting your shoulders. “There. You’re good to go.”
The warmth of his jacket surrounded you, chasing away your irritation. It smelled like detergent and something distinctively Jaemin, something familiar. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this. Jaemin was always looking out for you and you didn’t think much of it.
Back then, you never really did.
The ceiling stared back at you, dull and lifeless, as your mind drifted aimlessly. Disconnected and meaningless thoughts swam through your mind—old conversations, half-formed ideas, fleeting memories. Until your eyes caught sight of the strip light clinging stubbornly to the edge of the ceiling, with its adhesive peeling away after years of being up there.
Jaemin had helped you put it up when you were sixteen. He’d almost fallen off the ladder, wobbling dramatically while you stood below looking unimpressed with your arms crossed. You’d given him hell about it, calling him useless for something he was doing as a favor. Your mom had scolded you after, shaking her head at how mean you were to a boy who was nice enough to help you out.
The memory made you smile, though it felt distant now. Back then, everything felt light and easy. Your only worries had been how to perfectly capture the grunge aesthetic you wanted for your bedroom.
A knock at the door cut through your musings, making your head snap in the direction of the door. You barely had time to sit up before Jaemin pushed it open, stepping inside like he owned the place.
He took one look at you and sighed dramatically. “It’s 10 a.m. Why aren’t you ready?”
“I am ready.”
He glanced at your bed, then at you—still in pajamas. “No, you’re not.”
“All my stuff’s packed,” you shot back, rising to your feet. “I just need to change and we’re good to go.”
Jaemin sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed your bags, hauling them out of your room without waiting for you to catch up. After quickly changing, you followed him outside to where his car was parked at the curb.
Your mom and sister stood by the door, sending you off with a chorus of reminders. “Don’t skip meals,” “Call when you get there,” “Behave yourself.” You nodded along to each of them, half-listening, while Jaemin loaded your things into the trunk.
Then, just like always—like second nature—
You slid into the passenger seat without thinking. You pulled the seatbelt over your shoulder, and Jaemin draped a blanket over your lap just as you reached for the console to connect your phone. A lollipop landed in your palm at the same time you tossed his glasses from the dashboard into his waiting hand.
“The silver one,” said Jaemin, nodding at the other pair of glasses on the dashboard. You took the black ones and swapped them with the silver ones.
“Thank you,” he chimed, wearing them carefully and showing them to you. “Looks better, don’t you think?”
You grimaced. “It looks the same to me.”
Jaemin deadpanned, shaking his head as he started the engine. “Why do I even bother asking someone with no taste?”
“Excuse me? How dare you?”
Four hours passed with comfortable conversation and music, your voices occasionally singing along to the songs playing through the speakers.
At some point, Jaemin reached for the volume dial, turning it down a notch. “You’re lucky we’re friends,” he muttered, shaking his head.
You raised a brow. “Oh? What did I do now?”
“You put that song in the playlist,” he said, nodding at the stereo like it had personally offended him. “We’ve been over this. It’s a crime against my ears.”
You gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? This is a masterpiece.”
Jaemin shot you a look of pure judgment. “It sounds like a car alarm.”
“You have no taste.”
“And you have terrible taste,” he retorted. “It’s been in all of your playlists since high school. Don’t you get sick of it?”
Scoffing, you skipped to the next song—one you knew he actually liked, though you made a show of sighing as if it physically pained you to do so. “Better?”
Jaemin grinned. “Thank you so much.”
The rest of the drive was uneventful, filled with more playful arguments about music choices, lazy singing, and the occasional comfortable silence. By the time you reached the city, your playlist had nearly looped itself, and Jaemin was humming along without even realizing it.
“You know,” you mused, unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulled up to your apartment, “for someone who ‘hates’ my music, you sure know all the words.”
Jaemin clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance. “Unfortunately, exposure to bad influences does that.”
You stuck your tongue out at him before stepping out of the car. Jaemin parked in front of your apartment building and helped you carry your bags upstairs, unloading them and complaining about how heavy they were. You only scoffed, knowing he was just being dramatic.
“You have dinner plans?” he asked once everything was inside. You shook your head. “You should text the others. Let’s all have dinner together.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” you replied, slumping on your couch.
You could tell he was stalling. Dragging things out with small tasks—checking if the appliances are plugged in, rearranging the shoes by the door, checking his phone without really reading anything. But eventually, he ran out of excuses.
Jaemin stepped toward the doorway, pausing with one hand on the knob. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
His expression didn’t change, but you could tell he didn’t buy it. “There’s still a few hours before dinnertime. Don’t you wanna go out and do something?”
“If you’re so worried, why don’t you just hang out with me until later?”
“Oh, I have to take my stuff to the dorms,” he replied, sighing as if he really was considering the idea. “Are you sure you don’t wanna live with the girls? Just so you’re not alone.”
“I’ll be fine, Jaemin.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. With one last glance, he gave a small nod and stepped out.
And then, just as the door was about to shut, his head popped back in. “Text me if you need anything.”
You rolled your eyes. “I know.”
Still, he hesitated. He paused briefly by the doorway, giving your apartment one last sweep. Then finally, finally, he walked away. The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was deafening. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
Alone again.
You tilted your head back, resting on the backrest of the sofa and staring at the ceiling. It had become a habit at this point, staring at the ceiling and letting your mind wander anywhere and everywhere.
Six months had passed since the accident in Mykonos that left you with a few scars and a broken heart. Six whole months of healing and trying to reconnect with the person that you were before that summer. Seeing a therapist helped for the most part. You were able to talk about what happened, address your questions and confusions, and face the consequences of your actions. But it was useless for the emptiness that followed. The odd feeling of having a hole in your heart but not feeling any sadness or hurt about it. It was just… there.
This emptiness tends to be strong when you are alone. You hated it, but after six months of being a burden, of having people walk on eggshells around you, you couldn’t bring yourself to confide in anyone and tell them you hated being alone.
You stared at the boxes scattered across your living room, the remnants of your hasty move. The idea of doing something productive was almost laughable, but you pushed the thought aside. You were going to unpack. You would. And that would be something.
The process was slow at first as you sorted through the boxes. Old books, some clothes you hadn’t seen in ages, and trinkets you’d forgotten about began to fill the shelves and hang in the closet. It wasn’t the most exciting task, but it was progress.
Eventually, your mind began to wander as your hands kept working. You hadn’t realized how much bigger this new apartment was compared to your last one. It was the same building but the living room felt more spacious compared to your previous unit.
The layout was unfamiliar, and for a moment, you paused, your eyes drifting down the hallway to a door you hadn’t really noticed before. It led to a second bedroom. You hadn’t asked for it when you’d signed the lease—this new place was supposed to be temporary, just for this semester. You’d taken the break from college to heal, to recalibrate after the wreckage of the past summer. Now you were back and a small part of you felt like an alien in an unfamiliar territory. You hadn’t exactly figured out how to balance all of this—your old life and this new version of yourself.
You moved to the second bedroom, setting up the bed with the same care you’d given the first. The window in here was smaller, but it was cozy and had enough space for a few furniture and for moving around. It could be perfect for when your mom comes. Or, maybe it would just be a place for things you never used.
When you finally made it to the living room, the place was looking less like a chaotic mess and more like an apartment. You flicked on the TV, hoping some background noise would distract you from the heavy silence that seemed to follow you around. Sinking back on the plush couch, you entertained yourself with a show you’d been meaning to watch.
You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until loud, persistent knocks on your door jolted you awake. For a moment, you just stared at the TV, trying to make sense of the time and the situation. Then the knocks came again, this time with such force it sounded like they might break the door down.
Your heart rate quickened. You sat upright, momentarily disoriented, rubbing your eyes. Glancing at the clock, you saw that two hours had passed. You quickly got to your feet, shaking off the grogginess as you reached for the door.
“Who is it?” you asked, turning the knob and swinging the door open.
What greeted you was Jaemin’s panic-stricken face, his phone pressed to his ear, and his eyes wide as if he were on the verge of tears.
“Jaemin? What happened—” Before you could finish, he pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of you.
“What’s going on?” you asked, suddenly nervous.
“Oh god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled, holding you even tighter.
“Jaemin,” you said, trying to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. “Jaemin, I can’t breathe!”
Finally, he pulled back, hands still gripping your shoulders as he demanded, “Where were you? Why didn’t you pick up?”
You blinked, caught off guard for a moment. You glanced at your phone on the coffee table, still buzzing because he was still calling you on his phone.
“Oh…” you trailed off, feeling suddenly guilty. “I fell asleep. I didn’t hear it.
Jaemin sighed, his shoulders sagging as he stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. Before he could say anything else, the door swung open again, revealing the worried faces of your friends. The moment they saw you, relief flooded their expressions, and they practically lunged at you, whining and fake-sobbing as they pulled you into a dramatic group hug.
You caught Jaemin's eye. You gave him a quick, questioning glance, discreetly mouthing, “What's going on? Why are they here?”
Jaemin paused, then mouthed back, “This is all your fault.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before you could protest, your friends were already dragging you back into the apartment, chattering excitedly, leaving Jaemin behind with his amused grin.
Dinner plans had taken an unexpected turn, and now your apartment was filled with the comforting chaos of your friends’ voices, laughter echoing from both the kitchen and living room. Jaemin and Renjun had taken over cooking duties, moving around each other with an ease that suggested they’d done this plenty of times before. You sat curled up on the couch with Karina and Giselle, half-listening to their chatter while keeping an eye on whatever Jaemin was doing near the stove.
“I swear, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Karina huffed, lightly smacking your arm. “Jaemin made it sound like you were unconscious or kidnapped or dead.”
“I was asleep,” you muttered, sinking further into the cushions. “Totally fine. He might’ve overreacted a little.”
“Overreacted?” Giselle scoffed. “You disappeared for hours, didn’t pick up a single call, and this is your first night back. Can you blame us for being a little overprotective?”
You pursed your lips, unsure how to respond to that. You weren’t trying to worry them. It just hadn’t occurred to you that they’d actually be this worried.
“I get it,” Karina said, her tone softer now. “I know it must be exhausting having people hover over you all the time, but you kinda scared us. We’re not trying to be dramatic, we just—” She hesitated. “We don’t want you slipping back into that place.”
You exhaled through your nose. “I was asleep,” you repeated, though your voice lacked conviction this time.
For a while, the conversation drifted to lighter things—Karina complaining about her new professor, Giselle filling you in on a particularly messy situationship she got tangled up in. But in between their stories, your mind wandered. You’d been back for less than a day, and it already felt like there was a spotlight on you. Like everyone was waiting for you to break again.
As Karina started a new story, you took the opportunity to discreetly lean toward her and lower your voice. “Okay, but... why is Renjun here?”
She blinked at you. “Oh. He kinda just... ended up in the group last semester.”
You furrowed your brows. “How?”
“Dunno,” she said, shrugging. “We all started hanging out more, and he just stuck around.”
“Jaemin was the one who pulled him in, I think,” Giselle added. “And then it just happened. You probably didn’t notice ‘cause, well... you weren’t around.”
Right. You hadn’t been around. It was a strange realization—like the world had kept moving while you were frozen in place.
Before you could dwell on it, Giselle suddenly perked up, her voice turning mischievous. “Hey, Renjun,” she called toward the kitchen, loudly enough to grab everyone’s attention. “How’s it feel to make food for the girl you used to like?”
Karina covered a laugh with her hand, while Jaemin snorted under his breath. Renjun, standing by the stove, exhaled slowly and shook his head, giving Giselle a look that was equal parts tired and unimpressed.
“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” he muttered, turning to Jaemin instead of dignifying the question with a real response.
Jaemin only smirked, stirring the pot in front of him. “Nope.”
You wanted to sink into the floor. Giselle, clearly entertained, leaned closer to you. “Does it feel weird?” she whispered. “Having your ex-crush make you dinner?”
You shot her a look. “We’re not talking about this.”
“We should talk about this,” Giselle insisted, grinning. “We wouldn’t want things to be awkward. We’re fond of him, you see.”
Karina leaned closer and lowered her voice. “We like him more than Jaemin.”
“I can hear you,” Jaemin interjected, pointing the spatula at Karina.
Thankfully, they didn’t press on the matter. Dinner proceeded smoothly after that, filled with easy conversations, inside jokes, and the occasional teasing at Jaemin’s expense. The warm, comforting energy reminded you of what you had missed—of how much you had needed this.
By the time the meal wound down, everyone was full and content, slumping into their seats as Jaemin and Renjun made a half-hearted attempt to clear the dishes before eventually giving up. With a few reluctant groans, they finally dragged themselves toward the door.
“I expect an actual text back next time,” Jaemin warned, pointing at you as he slipped his shoes on.
You rolled your eyes. “Noted.”
Renjun only gave you a small nod before stepping out, and just like that, the apartment felt quieter. But not for long.
The moment the door clicked shut, Karina and Giselle turned to you with identical grins. “Sleepover,” Giselle announced.
You blinked. “What?”
“We’re staying over,” Karina said, already making herself comfortable on your couch. “You don’t get a say.”
And just like that, the night stretched on, filled with whispered gossip, bursts of laughter, and limbs tangled together as the three of you squeezed into your bed. There was something nostalgic about it—something safe. Maybe it was the way Karina absentmindedly played with your hair, or how Giselle kept making you both laugh until your stomachs hurt.
Either way, by the time sleep finally took over, you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this at peace.
The first day of the new semester felt like walking into an old sitcom set. Same buildings, same people, same scenes playing out with minor variations. Even the air smelled the same, a mix of coffee, freshly printed syllabi, and stress.
Your first lecture was a blur. You spent most of it half-listening, jotting down random notes between doodles, and staring at the clock. Time moved in an odd way—too slow and too fast all at once. Lunch was better, mostly because it required no real thought. You walked through the crowded cafeteria, tray in hand, until you spotted your friends at a corner table. Karina and Giselle were talking, Jaemin was picking at his fries, and Renjun looked relaxed and refreshed.
Jaemin glanced up as you sat down. “Finally. Our esteemed scholar returns from the clutches of education.”
You stabbed a cherry tomato with your fork. “It’s syllabus week. I haven’t done anything.”
“And you still look like you’ve been through war,” Karina teased.
You hummed noncommittally, half-listening as they fell into conversation. Someone mentioned a professor who still hadn’t uploaded the syllabus, then the best study spots on campus, then somehow they were debating the worst seats to get in a lecture hall.
The minutes stretched. The sun outside moved slowly. You took bites of your food at an unhurried pace.
At some point, Jaemin turned to Renjun. “I can’t believe you’re still sitting with us.”
He didn’t even look up from his phone. “I can’t believe I’m still sitting with you either.”
“We adopted him,” Giselle said. “He had no choice.”
Karina leaned back in her chair. “We like him more than you, so he’s not going anywhere.”
Jaemin placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. Right on my face?”
“Renjun doesn’t embarrass us in public,” Giselle pointed out.
“Not yet,” Renjun muttered, glancing at you.
The conversation continued with pointless yet oddly entertaining topics. Someone tried to recall the name of a movie but got it completely wrong. Jaemin made a terrible pun that Karina groaned at but Giselle immediately wrote it down for later use. You laughed a few times without realizing it.
And then, just like that, lunch ended. Trays were cleared, schedules compared, half-hearted complaints about afternoon classes exchanged.
The next few days passed pretty much the same. Classes, meals, occasional hangouts with your friends. Conversations stretched a little too long, and lectures felt like white noise in the background. It wasn’t bad, just monotonous. The world kept moving, even if you weren’t entirely participating.
Your schedule was light by design. Easing back into normal life was the goal, after all. But normal life turned out to be... dull. You sat through your lectures, watching the professors gesture at PowerPoints that no one was paying attention to, doodling in the margins of your notebook just to stay awake.
Somewhere in the middle of it, you befriended your seatmate, Eric. He was easygoing, quick with a joke, and effortlessly charming in the way some people just were. He had a habit of leaning in when he talked, his voice always carrying a hint of amusement.
“Did you get all that?”
“I think so,” you replied, shrugging.
“Great, can I see your notes?”
You glanced down at your page. A series of unrelated scribbles stared back at you. You slid your notebook over anyway.
“Wow,” he muttered, chuckling. “An abstract artist. Impressive.”
You glanced sideways at him, unable to suppress a chuckle at his comment. You tugged your notebook back. “You asked to see it.”
“You know, I think you might be the only person in this class who doesn’t look completely bored and sleepy,” he mused, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers.
You raised an eyebrow. “That’s an assumption.”
“Yeah?” He smirked. “What’s your secret? Other than practicing abstract art in your notebooks.”
“Complete emotional detachment,” you deadpanned.
Eric laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I really really like you.”
You only smiled, assuming he meant it in a general, friendly way.
Meanwhile, Jaemin remained his usual self, looking after you in his own quiet way. He never outright asked if you were okay. He just walked back with you most days, keeping up a steady stream of conversation like he always had.
Today, he was talking about a new café that opened near campus. “They have this matcha croissant that’s supposed to be life-changing,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you walked. “I heard you girls are already planning a whole trip just to try it.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing at him. “What about you?”
“I mean, I like croissants,” he shrugged. “But I feel like I’ll end up there no matter what.”
You hummed in response. Jaemin didn’t push. Instead, he switched topics, asking if you’d seen the latest episode of the drama you both started last year. You hadn’t.
“That’s tragic,” he sighed. “Now I have to pretend I don’t know what happens every time I talk about it.”
“You could just not talk about it.”
“That’s just impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “You know I don’t have that kind of self-control.”
You huffed a quiet laugh. The week passed before you knew it.
One evening, after another regular day of classes, you came home feeling drained. You went about your routine—shower, tea, maybe a TV show since it was Friday night. You had a good grasp of your plans for the night, until a simple misstep turned into a disaster.
You weren’t even sure how it happened. Did you trip over the edge of the rug? Lose your footing while stepping into the shower? Either way, one second you were moving, and the next, you were on the floor, hissing as a sharp sting shot up your ankle.
It’s not that bad, you told yourself. Just a little soreness. You managed to get an ice pack for it, and went to bed thinking it would be fine in the morning.
Except, by morning, it wasn’t. You were feverish, and the dull ache had worsened. Even shifting the wrong way sent a sharp pulse through your foot. You tried to get up and walk, but that proved impossible, so you decided to call the first person who crossed your mind.
Jaemin arrived not ten minutes later, equipped with some stuff from the drugstore and a takeout bag.
“What happened?” he asked as soon as he stepped into your bedroom.
“Just a little accident,” you said too quickly. “I’m fine, but it hurts to move.”
Jaemin’s face tightened as he examined your ankle, pressing on it just enough for pain to shoot through, making you wince.
He exhaled sharply. “Yeah, no. We’re going to the ER.”
“It’s not that bad. I just need rest and some ibuprofen.”
Jaemin gave you a look. “You also have a fever. We need to check if you broke a bone or something. I know you hate it, but you’re gonna have to deal with this because, honestly, you’re way too clumsy for your own good.”
The trip to the ER wasn’t exactly eventful, but it was exhausting. You sat through the usual process—check-in, vitals, waiting. When the doctor finally saw you, they examined your ankle, prodded at it, and sent you off for an X-ray, just to be sure.
“Good news, nothing’s broken,” the doctor announced when they returned with your results. “Just a bad sprain. We’ll wrap it up, and you’ll need to stay off it for a few days. But there’s something else. Your bloodwork shows low iron and glucose levels.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“You need to eat healthier,” they said simply, setting the file down. “Skipping meals, not getting enough nutrients. It’s showing up in your results. We’re giving you an IV now, but you should be more mindful of your diet moving forward.”
You exhaled as the nurse set up the IV, already anticipating what was coming. Jaemin, who had been sitting quietly beside you, didn’t say I told you so, but you felt it in the way he glanced at you.
It was only after the doctor left that he spoke. “I called your mom,” he said, casual like it was nothing.
Your head snapped toward him. “You what?”
Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “I figured you won’t tell her so, I did.”
“I was gonna tell her,” you grumbled. “Eventually.”
He didn’t look convinced. Before you could say anything else, your phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the screen before handing it over. “That’s her.”
Sighing, you took the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, honey.” Her voice was warm with relief. “Are you okay? Jaemin said you hurt your foot?”
“I’m fine,” you reassured her. “It’s just a sprain. And some iron deficiency, apparently. No big deal.”
Your mom sighed on the other end. “Sweetheart, you have to take care of yourself. Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”
“I’ll be fine,” you said. “It’s just a sprain. And I’ll eat better, I promise. They gave me an IV. I’m allowed to go home after this.”
A pause. Then, carefully, she said, “I was thinking maybe one of your friends could stay with you for a few days. Just until you’re feeling better?”
You opened your mouth to protest, but she added quickly, “It’s just a suggestion. I’d feel better knowing someone’s there with you.”
You blinked. “Mom, I don’t wanna bother them like that.”
“I know, but…” she sighed. “Let me talk to Jaemin, sweetie.”
You glanced at Jaemin before handing the phone back to him. He took it without question, nodding along as your mom talked his ear off. You could only catch bits and pieces—something about making sure you eat, not letting you skip meals, and keeping an eye on your ankle.
Eventually, he hung up and turned to you. “So, good news. You’re not dying. Bad news. Your mom insists someone stay with you for a few days. And—” He paused for dramatic effect. “She volunteered me.”
You gave him a flat look. “You volunteered yourself, didn’t you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jaemin dismissed. “What’s important is that I am now your temporary live-in nurse. I expect full cooperation.”
You sighed, debating your options, which, realistically, were none. You could protest, but you knew Jaemin. He wasn’t going to leave you alone while you were limping around your apartment. And honestly? Maybe having him around wouldn’t be that bad.
“Fine,” you muttered.
Jaemin nodded. “Okay. I’ll take the couch.”
You shook your head. “No need. I have a spare room you can use.”
“Oh?” he said, pressing his finger to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. “That’s even better.”
You exhaled slowly, rolling your eyes as you shifted to get more comfortable in the hospital bed. Jaemin, without missing a beat, adjusted the pillow behind you, leaning in a bit closer than necessary. You could smell his cologne, fresh, woodsy, and all too familiar.
“I have rules,” you said, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.
“Of course,” Jaemin murmured, sounding amused.
You felt his hand brush over your forehead for a second, checking your temperature, but it lingered there longer than usual. You let out a quiet sigh, more content than you'd been all evening. With Jaemin here, maybe things would be okay.
You were only 14 when Jaemin and his family moved in next door. At the time, you weren’t particularly thrilled by the idea of befriending some new kid just because your parents told you to. You were used to being on your own, and you didn’t really feel like spending your weekends babysitting someone. But, as parents do, they insisted, so you reluctantly agreed.
It would be easier if he wanted to be friends with you too. But you could sense that he didn’t. He was curt, somehow a little mean when he talked to you. So, despite your parents’ wishes, you didn’t put in the effort to really get to know him.
That was until one Saturday morning. The sun was a little too bright for your taste, but you went with your family anyway. The hike was supposed to be a fun family outing, the kind where you would all get some fresh air and maybe stop at the lake for some snacks. Jaemin had only just moved in for over a week, and he was quiet, reserved, completely out of place in the familiar group of your family and his own. You didn’t blame him for that, but it didn’t stop you from feeling annoyed when your mom pointed him out and told you to stick by his side.
It didn’t take long for Jaemin to get lost. Not that it was entirely his fault. He was a city kid, and the woods were a different world. He wandered too far ahead, distracted by something, and before long, he was out of sight. That was when you heard him calling out for help.
You should’ve ignored it, honestly. The adults would hear him soon and they’d help. But somehow, you couldn’t just leave him alone. So you went after him, with quick steps as you navigated through the trees, trying to track down the lost kid. You found him standing by a cluster of rocks, looking entirely confused.
“Hey,” you called, catching his attention. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
Jaemin turned to face you, frustration and relief etched in his expression. “I... I guess I took a wrong turn.”
With a sigh, you rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”
He followed you without a word, your pace steady as you led him back to the group. It wasn’t long before the others found you, and the hike resumed without much delay. But Jaemin stuck to you for the rest of the day. You didn’t mind because he was quiet most of the time, so you didn’t need to talk to him.
After that day, Jaemin kept showing up. At school, he’d sit next to you in class, not because he had to, but because he didn’t know anyone else to sit with. At lunch, ,he would find his way to your table, and you’d have your usual back-and-forth, making jokes and laughing about things only the two of you found funny. He was a little quieter back then, but there was always something comfortable about having him around. You didn’t have to try to impress him, and he didn’t make things awkward.
In high school, Jaemin was the guy you called when you couldn’t reach the top shelf in the kitchen, or when your phone was broken and you needed help figuring out what was wrong with it. When your family’s car broke down on a trip out of town, he was the one who came over with his toolbox and somehow managed to get the engine running again. And when you told him your food cravings at 11 PM, he’d be the one to show up at your door with your favorite late-night snack, laughing about how you were impossible to please.
“Am I your slave? Why do I have to do this for you?” he’d complain, but you knew he didn’t mean it.
Jaemin was dependable, and you had always known that. He wasn’t just that. He was also the guy who could make you laugh even when you wanted to stay mad at him. He was good at cooking, always surprising you with something new in the kitchen. And when he’d show you his latest photos, you couldn’t help but feel proud. He was talented. He always managed to stay humble, even when people around him began noticing just how good he was at everything.
You never really told him he was your best friend. You didn’t need to. The way you bickered and joked around always downplayed the depth of your connection, but you both knew you were each other’s person. It was the kind of friendship that didn’t need constant reaffirmation. The kind that lasted because it was simply there, no effort required.
Now, as you sat on the couch in your apartment, Jaemin sitting nearby while you fumbled through a book you were reading, you couldn’t help but notice how little had changed. Jaemin had grown up, of course, he had. He was older now, more popular, more confident, a little more polished. But underneath all of that, he was still the same guy you’d met all those years ago.
Still the guy who could cook you a meal without breaking a sweat, making your favorite dish like it was the easiest thing in the world. Still the one who was always convenient to have around, no matter the situation. There was something strangely comforting about how much he hadn’t changed. He had grown, sure, but the essence of who he was—the one who showed up without being asked, who willingly and effortlessly took care of everything—was still the same.
Jaemin was annoyingly good at taking care of you. The first morning in your apartment, you woke up to the smell of something warm and savory, your stomach twisting in hunger before you were even fully conscious. When you managed to make your way to the kitchen in crutches, he was already plating breakfast, acting like he’d lived here all his life.
“You’re up,” he said, not even looking up from the pan. “Sit. Eat.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Isn’t this too much for breakfast?”
Jaemin set a bowl in front of you, a perfectly balanced meal that made your usual instant ramen diet look embarrassing. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I thought you already knew that?”
You huffed but didn’t argue, mostly because he was right. And because the food smelled too good to resist.
For the next few days, Jaemin took over your apartment like a man on a mission. Since you couldn’t walk, he made sure everything you needed was within reach. He left water bottles and snacks at your bedside. He helped you move whenever you needed to get to the bathroom or the couch.
He had an almost annoying dedication to making sure you ate. Every lunchtime, without fail, he showed up at your apartment. You’d hear the front door unlock, and a few minutes later, he’d be standing in front of you, arms crossed.
“Did you eat?”
You’d roll your eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
Jaemin would glance at the table, checking for evidence. If he saw plates in the sink, he’d nod and remind you to take your meds before going back to campus. Sometimes just moving to prepare your own food was tiring, but you knew better than to try and lie to him, so you didn’t.
It was kind of nice. Annoying, but nice. But, of course, there were the embarrassing moments that came with having him around 24/7.
Like the time you walked into the living room, only to find him casually folding your clothes—including your underwear.
“Jaemin!” you shrieked, nearly tripping over your own foot.
He barely blinked, holding up a pair of lace-trimmed bras with a considering look. “Are these new?”
“Oh my god, drop them!”
Jaemin chuckled, but thankfully, he did as you said. “Relax. It’s just laundry. It’s not like I haven’t seen a bra before.”
Then there was the time you walked out of your room in the morning, still half-asleep, only to find Jaemin in nothing but a towel, casually walking out of the bathroom. You froze.
Jaemin, completely unfazed, rubbed his damp hair with another towel. “Morning.”
You closed your eyes shut, looking away dramatically. “What the hell?! Put some clothes on!”
He snorted. “Don’t like it, don’t look.”
“Excuse me? This is my apartment! I don’t need to see—” You cut yourself off before you could make things worse, groaning into your hands. “God, just—just go.”
Jaemin laughed as he padded past you toward the spare room. “Noted.” It was a nightmare.
When you were finally able to attend classes again, Jaemin always walked there with you. He made it look casual, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging whenever you pointed it out. “What? We have almost the same schedule.”
You didn’t. And yet, every day, he was there, waiting for you to get ready, carrying your bag when he thought you looked too tired, making sure you got back home without a hitch.
Around the apartment, he was everywhere. You’d be brushing your teeth in the bathroom, and he’d be leaning against the doorway, scrolling through his phone like he had nowhere better to be. You’d be on the couch, flipping through channels, and he’d plop down beside you, stealing the remote.
When he cooked dinner, he’d make you sit on the counter, keeping you close while he moved around the kitchen like it was his. “I swear, if you don’t start eating better, I’m gonna move in permanently,” he’d threaten, flicking water at you when you teased him about being a housewife.
“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” you told him one evening, watching as he washed the dishes.
Jaemin didn’t look up. “I know.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
He glanced at you over his shoulder with a small, knowing smile on his lips. “Because I want to.”
You stared at him for a second before shaking your head. “Suit yourself. I’m not complaining about a clean house and good food.”
Jaemin just chuckled. “You can admit you like having me around. Don’t be shy.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He was right, but he’d never catch you admitting that out loud. Not to his face at least.
Before you knew it, two weeks had passed. Your ankle had fully healed, and Jaemin—your self-appointed live-in nurse and housewife—was finally packing up his things. You stood by his bedroom door, watching him fold his clothes neatly in place.
“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.
Jaemin hummed, tossing a hoodie into his duffel bag. “Getting my stuff ready. I’m moving back to the dorm by the end of the day.”
You knew this was coming. It wasn’t like he was living with you permanently. But for some reason, you didn’t like hearing it out loud.
The idea of your apartment returning to its usual emptiness made you uncomfortable. No more clinking in the kitchen in the early morning, no more stolen bites from your plate, no more Jaemin casually invading your space like it was his own. Loneliness slowly crept into your chest at the idea.
But you didn’t tell him that.
By the time you stepped out of the apartment, the morning sun was warm against your skin, and Jaemin was walking beside you like he had been doing in the last few days. It had become routine—leaving together, arriving together. For the past two weeks, Jaemin had been around every moment of the day, making sure you ate, getting you to class, sticking around like a permanent fixture in your life. And now, just like that, he was packing up.
You glanced at him, the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. It felt strange, knowing he wouldn’t be there tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that. The thought unsettled you more than it should. Trying not to dwell on it, you cleared your throat. “What’s the college dorm like?”
Jaemin scoffed. “Let’s see… bunk beds that creak every time you move. Paper-thin walls so you hear everything. People talking, snoring, doing… other things.” He grimaced. “Shared bathrooms, too. It’s an experience, to say the least.”
You made a face. “That sounds awful.”
“It is,” Jaemin confirmed, kicking a loose pebble on the sidewalk. “And my roommate? Dude never cleaned up after himself. I swear, I did all the work.”
“That sucks.” You hummed thoughtfully. “Must be nice having your own space for the past two weeks, huh?”
Jaemin shot you a look, catching on just a little. “I guess.”
“You guess?” You raised a brow. “I mean, you had a whole kitchen. A clean bathroom. Nobody snoring in the same room as you.”
Jaemin let out a soft chuckle. “Are you trying to make a point?”
“Nope. Just making conversation.” You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral.
He rolled his eyes, but there was amusement dancing in them. “Right.”
You left it at that, but something about the conversation must have stuck, because at lunch, Jaemin was still talking about it. He was talking when you joined them at the cafeteria, casually sliding into the seat next to him.
“What are you guys talking about?” you asked, although you already heard snippets of their conversation.
“Jaemin’s moving back to the dorms today,” Karina said, sighing. “We’re wishing him luck.”
“Why would you willingly go back?” Giselle added, incredulous. “Dorm life is hell. It’s literally just a shoebox with a bed.”
“And you can hear everything,” Renjun chimed in. “My friend used to hear his neighbor watch porn and masturbate at two in the morning.”
Everyone at your table groaned in unison. Giselle dramatically covered her mouth as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “That word in your mouth, Renjun? I can’t believe it!”
“What? Masturbate?”
You all groaned again. At this point, Giselle was fake-sobbing on Karina’s shoulder. “My sweet innocent Renjun. Jaemin, what have you been teaching my baby?” she pointed an accusatory finger at Jaemin.
“I’m literally half a year older than you,” Renjun deadpanned.
Your table was chaotic as usual, but your mind was elsewhere, focusing on Jaemin and the fact that he won’t be around after today.
And that afternoon after classes were over, you leaned against the doorway of the spare bedroom, watching Jaemin zip up his duffel bag. He moved around the room, gathering the last of his things, a hoodie hanging on the back of the door, his camera resting on the desk, a pair of socks he’d somehow left on the floor.
It was expected, of course. He was always going to leave. That was the deal. But standing there, watching him pack, you felt the reality of it settle in your chest in a way you hadn’t anticipated.
You sighed without meaning to. Jaemin didn’t turn at first, but when he finally did, he smirked. “Why do you look so upset? Gonna miss me when I’m gone?”
“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, arms crossing over your chest. “I was just worried you’d have a hard time when you’re back in the dorms.”
Jaemin huffed out a small laugh. “I’ve lived there since freshman year. I’ll survive.”
You knew that. You weren’t actually worried about him adjusting. He was fine there before. He’d be fine again. But would you? Would you be okay when the small ray of sunshine that had been brightening up your space for the last two weeks disappeared?
You hesitated. The words forming in your head felt too heavy, too exposing. You weren’t even sure you wanted to say them. And yet, before you could think better of it, they slipped out anyway. “You don’t have to leave.”
Jaemin paused, his hands holding the zipper of his bag. “What do you mean?”
You swallowed, shifting on your feet. You could leave it at that. Brush it off, pretend you meant something else. But he was already looking at you, waiting.
“You heard me,” you muttered, looking away.
Jaemin tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I did, but I’m not sure I’m understanding it correctly.”
Heat prickled at your skin. This was exactly why you didn’t want to say it. He was just gonna tease you about it. Annoyed, embarrassed, and already regretting this, you huffed. “I said I want you to stay. Don’t go back to the dorms. Just go get your stuff and stay here.”
Jaemin laughed. “Oh, you want me to stay—” He trailed off as his eyes met yours. His amusement faded slightly when he realized you weren’t laughing. “You’re serious?”
You dropped your gaze, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think you understand what it would mean if I stayed here,” he said softly, searching your face. “That means I have to live here with you, in your space. You’ll have to see me everyday until the semester is over.”
“I know that. It’s not like I’m doing this for free. We can split the rent and other bills. I’ll buy the groceries, you make sure to make food. I’ll lend you my linens and other stuff, you make sure they’re clean.”
“Why are you okay with this?”
You exhaled slowly, staring at the floor like the answer might be there.
Because the apartment would be too quiet without him. Because the past two weeks had been easier, and brighter, less mundane and less dull. Because you’d gotten used to him being there, to the sound of him moving around, to the way he always had something to say.
But admitting that felt like too much. So instead, you shrugged, forcing nonchalance into your voice. “Because I’m anemic and low on sugar. Someone’s gotta make sure I’m well-fed and healthy.”
Jaemin chuckled heartily, sighing as he gave you an affectionate look. He always did that when he found you cute or endearing, and it always annoyed you because it made you feel like a child.
“If you don’t want to then, forget it,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Go back to your bunk bed and dirty roommate, I guess.”
“Fine. I’m staying. But only because you forced me to,” he teased, opening his bag again and emptying it.
You stomped toward him, slapping his shoulder. “I did not!”
“Sure, you didn’t.”
You scoffed, annoyed and wondering if you could still take it back. But your heart is lighter now, more at ease. “You better not say that to the girls when they ask about this.”
“I don’t know,” he said in a sing-song. “I might. I might not.”
Living with Jaemin wasn’t all that different from when he was just temporarily staying over. It still came with the same pros: warm food every day, a perpetually clean kitchen, and the added bonus of a personal bodyguard whenever you had to walk home late. But, of course, the same cons remained—the casual half-nakedness, and the occasional mixing of laundry that resulted in you pulling one of his boxers out of your pile.
He changed the spare bedroom completely, swapping out your plain beddings for something that matched his aesthetic better—earthy tones and soft fabrics, the kind that looked straight out of a home decor catalog. He put up posters on the walls, ones he must’ve had in storage, and his toiletries now sat next to yours in the bathroom cabinet. It was still your apartment, but it was slowly becoming his home too.
For the most part, it was nice.
One evening, as you got ready to head out, Giselle came over, letting herself in as usual. She plopped down on your couch, watching as you moved around the apartment, gathering your things.
“Hey, did Jaemin leave already?” she asked, eyeing the shoes by the door—his shoes.
You glanced at her, then back at the bedroom door that was slightly ajar, revealing the edge of his neatly made bed. “Oh, no. He lives here now.”
Giselle blinked. “Permanently?”
“Yeah.” You pulled on a jacket, smoothing it out in the mirror. “He figured it was better than the dorms, so he just moved in.”
Giselle let out a low whistle. “Damn. I’m kinda jealous. I want a live-in housemaid who cooks for me every day too.”
You laughed. “He’s not a housemaid.”
“But still.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head in thought. “Isn’t it weird, though?”
“What?”
“Living with a guy,” she said. “Like, you’re a girl. He’s a guy. Isn’t that… I don’t know, weird?”
You made a face. “We’ve known each other since we were fourteen, Giselle. I don’t see him like that.”
“Huh.” She tapped a finger against her chin, thinking. “So girls and boys can really be just friends.”
“Of course. Why is that even an argument?” you chuckled, shaking your head.
“I mean, I always figured it was possible,” she mused. “But you guys aren’t just friends. You’re like…” She gestured vaguely, searching for the right words. Then, she snapped her fingers. “You’re soulmates. Platonic soulmates, but still soulmates.”
You snorted. “Soulmates?”
“Yeah. You guys are practically an old married couple without the romance.” She grinned. “It’s honestly kinda cute.”
You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue. Because, well, maybe she had a point.
The party was louder than you remembered parties being. Maybe it had just been a while, or maybe you were out of practice, but for the first hour, you found yourself unable to keep up with the energy around you. People moved in and out of conversations effortlessly, the music pulsed through the space, and the air was thick with the familiar mix of sweat, alcohol, and perfume.
It felt new again, being surrounded like this, caught up in the rhythm of a rowdy crowd. You sipped at your drink, letting yourself ease into it.
As you looked around, the memories of the past summer came registering into your mind’s view. The last time you'd felt this kind of buzz was that summer in Mykonos. You hadn’t thought about it much in a while, but now, under the neon lights and the noise, your memories brought you back to those days. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t sad or upsetting to remember that phase. In fact, you almost laughed at yourself, recalling just how much fun you’d had back then.
You’d been reckless. Maybe a little foolish. Definitely unhinged at times.
Donghyuck crossed your mind, slipping into the memory as easily as he had slipped into your life back then. That summer had been a whirlwind, the two of you burning through it like a fire neither of you had tried to put out. You wondered how he was doing. If he ever thought about that summer. If he ever thought about you.
Before you could dwell on it for too long, a hand grabbed yours. It was Giselle, grinning at you as he tugged you further into the house. “Come on!”
“Where are we—”
Karina appeared on your other side, looping her arm around yours. “Drinking game. Let’s go.”
You barely had a chance to protest before they dragged you into a circle of students, their laughter and cheers carrying over the loud music and chatter. Someone handed you a shot. The game was in full swing—a card game of truth or take a shot.
You participated, not because you wanted to, but because you were already there. It carried on, drinks passing from hand to hand, each question peeling back another layer of someone's carefully curated image. You laughed as someone admitted to sending an embarrassing drunk text the night before, and winced when another revealed they had been caught sneaking a boy into their apartment by their roommate’s mom.
Then, it was your turn, which surprised you a little. You thought the chances of getting picked was low, given the large number of people participating in the game. But here you are.
“Who’s the last person you kissed?” said someone who was reading the card you’d picked, and the circle immediately leaned in, eager for the answer.
You hesitated, warmth creeping up your neck. The answer should have come easily, but instead, your mind drew a complete blank.
“Well?” Giselle pressed.
You shifted in your seat. “No one.”
That didn’t satisfy them. “Come on, be serious.”
“I am being serious,” you insisted. “I haven’t kissed anyone recently.”
The group groaned in disappointment, and someone called out, “Boring!” You only rolled your eyes, but before you could deflect, another question landed in your lap.
“What about your first kiss?”
You laughed, relieved it wasn’t about the present anymore. “That was back in high school,” you said lightly. “You probably wouldn’t even know them.”
But the moment the words left your mouth, your gaze flickered across the room, drawn almost instinctively to Jaemin. He was standing far across the hall, deep in conversation, laughing with his friends.
And then it hit you. Jaemin. Your first kiss had been Jaemin. A sharp gasp left your lips.
The realization knocked into you like a gust of wind, rattling your brain, unearthing a memory you hadn’t even realized you’d buried. The circle of people blurred into static noise as your pulse pounded in your ears. Without thinking, you rose to your feet.
“Hey! Where are you—”
“Bathroom,” you blurted, before turning and walking—no, running—out of the room.
You didn’t stop until you reached the garden area of the house, stepping into the cooler night air. The party still pulsed behind you, but out here, it was less stuffy, easier to breathe.
You held onto the edge of a patio table as you tried to process what had just resurfaced. How could you have forgotten something like that? How had it just slipped from your memory as if it never happened?
Jaemin had been your first kiss. Not some crush, not a random guy at a party. Jaemin.
The thought sent your brain into overdrive. It must have been casual, right? A stupid teenage thing. A dare? A joke? You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to summon the exact details, but all you got were flashes—his face close to yours, the stuffy in the air, the way he’d grinned afterward.
You let out a breath, feeling slightly light-headed. And then you heard a familiar voice calling your name behind you.
“Are you okay?” You turned, and there he was. Jaemin, stepping onto the patio, his head tilting slightly in concern.
You straightened immediately, forcing a neutral expression. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”
Jaemin didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he eyed you for a moment before asking, “Have you been drinking?”
You hesitated before nodding. “A little.”
He narrowed his eyes on you. “You know you’re not supposed to drink, right?”
You chuckled lightly, rolling your eyes just a little. “I’m allowed to drink, Jaemin. And besides, I’m all better now. I didn’t even need to go to rehab and I’m off therapy.”
Jaemin shrugged, stuffing his hands in hi pockets. “Yeah, but it won’t hurt to be careful. You don’t seem that well to me.”
You understood what he meant. While it was true that the events of that summer no longer haunted you, you hadn’t reverted back to your old easy-going, and happy self. This was probably just a phase, a transition period because blending back seamlessly wasn’t as easy as people made it out to be. But you knew in your heart that you were all better now, you were simply adjusting.
Silence settled between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… lingering. There was something on the tip of your tongue, something you wanted to ask, but you didn’t.
Instead, you inhaled slowly, pushing the thought away. “I’m heading back in,” you said.
Jaemin nodded, stepping aside to let you pass. As you walked back inside, the memory of your first kiss still sat heavy in your chest. It was back now, no longer buried. And you had no idea what to do with it.
You had hoped that unearthing a memory as important as your first kiss wouldn’t affect your life. But it did, funnily enough. Now, you couldn’t look Jaemin in the eye or act normally around him. It was awkward, and you knew he could feel it too. He was just nice enough not to ask questions. Or maybe he knew he hadn’t done anything to cause this, so he wasn’t bothered at all.
You, however, were very much bothered.
As you sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, your gaze kept drifting toward Jaemin. He was vacuuming the apartment like nothing had changed, like you hadn’t just recovered a lost piece of your history together. Did he remember that night? Or had he forgotten, just like you had?
You could still see it so clearly now. Some summer party when you were sixteen. The two of you, shoved into a cramped closet for a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven.
“We’re not gonna do it,” you’d said immediately. “Obviously, we’re not gonna do it.”
Jaemin had shrugged. “Let’s just let the seven minutes pass and we’re out of here.”
“Yeah,” you’d agreed. But you’d been restless, hugging your arms around yourself, picking at the sleeve of your dress.
The closet had been stuffy, filled with the scent of old coats and lingering perfume. You’d had a few bottles of beer and cups of whatever mix of alcohol and softdrinks the jocks had concocted earlier. You’d been hot and light-headed. So when he shifted slightly and his elbow nudged your arm, you had looked up at him ready to snap and say something mean like you always did.
But you couldn’t. The words died in your throat when you were met by his eyes, striking in the glow of your phone’s flashlight, staring back at you. The same eyes that had always been so easy to read—except, for the first time, you weren’t sure what you were seeing.
“Just one?” you blurted before you could even stop yourself.
Jaemin moved to face you fully. “Just one,” he said, already reaching to cup your face and kiss your lips.
It was just one, as agreed. As soon as his mouth touched yours, something in you had caved. The kiss had stolen the air out of your lungs, and erased the rationality in your head. That one kiss had you gripping the back of his neck, fingers curling against his hair as you pulled him closer for more. His hands on your hips were firm, keeping you steady as you felt your knees go weak with the sensation of his lips.
It was just one kiss. But it was one hell of a kiss. And yet, somehow, you’d managed to forget it ever happened—until now.
“Hey.” Jaemin’s voice yanked you back to the present.
You blinked, vision coming back into focus. He was standing in front of you now, the vacuum off, watching you with mild concern. His hand was on your arm.
“Huh?” you said, stupidly.
His brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
Panic flared up in your chest. His touch felt too warm, too familiar, and suddenly, it was all too much. You swatted his hand away, bolted up from the couch, and rushed straight into your room.
You told yourself it was no big deal. Just a long-forgotten memory, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn’t change anything. It didn’t mean anything.
But no matter how much you tried to push it out of your mind, you couldn’t. It was like Jaemin had been put under a magnifying glass—every little thing about him suddenly too noticeable, too distracting.
Like the way his voice softened when he called your name. Or how his sweater sleeves were always pushed up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. Or the way he laughed, nose scrunching, eyes disappearing. Or, most annoyingly, how effortlessly attractive he was.
That hadn’t been a new observation, obviously. You always knew Jaemin was handsome. It was just a fact. But suddenly, it was something you were aware of in a way you had never been before. Suddenly, you were attracted to this handsomeness and it was infuriating.
The worst moment, by far, had been a few days ago. You had been curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Jaemin had stepped out of the bathroom—fresh from a shower, towel slung around his neck, with his messy damp hair falling over his forehead. And, of course, because the universe was cruel, he had been shirtless.
You hadn’t meant to stare, but you did.
It was impossible not to when his toned muscles were right there, his defined chest and abs on full display as he wiped at his hair. You knew he was ripped. You knew he had been going to gym consistently, putting in the work to maintain his physique. But you hadn’t given it any attention until right now.
He glanced up mid-rub, catching you staring blatantly with wide eyes. “What?” he asked, smirking.
“Nothing,” you blurted, whipping your gaze away so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your ears burned. You buried your face back into your phone, scrolling blindly, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.
Jaemin just laughed, shaking his head as he walked into his room. But you were left with the horrifying realization that you had just ogled your best friend.
And it wasn’t just that. It was everything that used to be so normal, so second-nature.
The way he absentmindedly ruffled your hair, the way he leaned in close when talking, the way he smelled—clean, fresh, woodsy—a mix that smelled distinctly Jaemin. You found yourself noticing things you never paid attention to before. And the more you noticed, the more your brain kept circling back to that memory—of being sixteen, of being in that closet, of his lips on yours.
Jaemin noticed eventually. He noticed how you avoided his gaze, how you stiffened when he casually draped an arm over your shoulders like he always had. He noticed how you started keeping just enough distance between you, subtly leaning away when he got too close.
At first, he didn’t seem to think much of it—maybe just a weird mood, something that would pass. But when it didn’t, when you kept acting like a skittish cat whenever he so much as looked at you for too long, his patience finally ran out.
He caught you by the wrist one afternoon, stopping you just as you were about to escape into your room after he sat too close to you in the couch and you scooted away like you were terrified of him.
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” he asked, brows furrowed.
Your heart jumped to your throat. “Nothing.”
His grip was loose enough that you could pull away if you wanted, but his stare pinned you in place. “You’ve been acting weird.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly. Too quickly.
Jaemin scoffed, giving you a look that said he wasn’t buying it for a second. “Yeah, okay,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you’re just gonna act like I’m gonna devour you each time I so much as look at you, why did you ask to live together?”
“Live together?” you echoed, his choice of words making your brain short-circuit. “We’re not living together. We’re sharing an apartment.”
“Yeah, that’s what living together means. I— That’s not the point,” he stopped and sighed, letting you go and placing his hands on his waist. “What did I do? Tell me so I can apologize and we can get over it.”
Tell him? Tell him? How were you supposed to tell him that you’d just remembered your first kiss with him and it was making you all giddy and nervous when he was near? You couldn’t possibly say that to your best friend of all people!
You opened your mouth to argue, to deny, to brush it off, but luckily, salvation arrived in the form of your friends ringing the doorbell.
“That’s the girls,” you said, making a break for the door before he could stop you again. “We’re seeing Ningning today. I’ll be home late, so no need to make me dinner.”
Jaemin let out a frustrated sigh behind you. “Call me if you need me to pick you up.”
“I will,” you replied, but you didn’t look back. You definitely will not call him to pick you up.
Café dates with your friends were usually a safe space, a break from the chaos of college life. But today, your mind was still preoccupied, and no matter how hard you tried to be present, you kept zoning out, stirring your iced coffee with the straw until the ice had almost completely melted.
“You’re quiet today,” Karina noted, giving you a curious look.
You blinked, forcing a smile. “Huh? No, I’m fine.”
“You literally just sighed to yourself,” Ningning said flatly.
Giselle narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been acting weird since we got here. Spill it.”
You hesitated. Admitting this out loud made it feel too real. But the three of them were staring at you like interrogators, and you knew they weren’t going to let this go.
You exhaled, deciding to rip the band-aid off. “I’ve been thinking about something weird lately.”
Giselle leaned in, interested. “Weird how?”
You bit your lip, hesitating for just a second before blurting, “I just—” You exhaled sharply. “I just remembered that Jaemin was my first kiss.”
“WHAT?”
Their voices were too loud that it drew attention from the nearby tables. You winced, shushing them in a panic. “Hey, keep it down.”
“You just dropped a bomb on us, what do you expect?” Ningning whisper-yelled, looking personally offended that she was only learning this now.
Karina gaped at you. “Jaemin was your first kiss? How are you best friends with your first kiss?”
“I kinda forgot about it,” you admitted sheepishly. “It happened in high school. And I didn’t remember until recently.”
They exchanged looks, intrigue and disbelief dancing on their faces. Giselle was the first to recover. “Okay, wait. So, was it like, an actual kiss kiss? Or one of those lame pecks?”
You opened your mouth to answer but suddenly remembered just how intense it had actually been. Your face burned. Karina gasped. “Oh my god! It was a real kiss, wasn’t it?”
You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Can we not?”
“No, we absolutely can,” Ningning said, practically buzzing. “So? What does this mean? Do you—” she wiggled her brows, “—like him?”
“What? No!” you said immediately, way too defensive. “We were sixteen and dumb, playing seven minutes in heaven. I just— It’s weird, okay? It’s weird that I didn’t remember it, and now that I do, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
They exchanged another round of knowing looks. You hated it. “Guys, stop making me nervous.”
Ningning leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Okay, but think about it. You’ve lived with Jaemin for how long now? Three weeks? And now is when you suddenly remember this? What if your brain suppressed it because it meant something?”
You gave her a deadpan look. “Yeah, I totally repressed my first kiss because I was secretly in love with Jaemin all this time. That makes so much sense.”
Karina tapped her nails against the table. “Actually, she has a point. You said you forgot it happened, right? But then all of a sudden, it just comes back out of nowhere? Why? What triggered it?”
You hesitated. “Remember last week when we were playing a game at the party? And you guys asked me about my first kiss?” They nodded. “Yeah, that’s when it came back to me. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been acting all weird around him and he’s starting to notice.”
Karina’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, wait. What if the reason you forgot about it was because it would have changed the way you saw him back then? And now that you remembered it, you can’t unsee it because it’s been so long and he’s changed and you’ve changed and now he’s—”
“Hot,” Giselle finished, giving Karina a high-five after.
“Don’t say that,” you groaned.
“What? Hot?” Giselle snickered. “Why not? Jaemin is hot. Have you seen him?”
Karina grinned beside you. “Of course she’s seen him. They see each other 24/7 now.”
Ningning, just to fan the fire, said, “Bet he walks around shirtless after a shower.”
“Or when he gets back from the gym,” Giselle added, making all the girls oooh and fan their faces.
You stared at them, horrified. “You’re all insane.”
“Maybe, but you’re not saying we’re wrong,” Ningning said smugly. “Come on, babe. It’s okay to admit it. You like him. You want to kiss him again.”
“You guys are giving way too much meaning to something that happened years ago,” you insisted.
“Are we, though?” Giselle challenged. “Because we’re not the ones acting weird around our best friend over ‘something that happened years ago’,” she added, mimicking that way you spoke.
Karina tilted her head. "Yeah, why do you think that is?”
You opened your mouth to answer but came up empty. Because, ugh, they did have a point. It was just a kiss—one from years ago—but if it really was that meaningless, why were you spiraling?
“Wait, what about him?” Ningning prompted. “Does he remember that? Did he know that was your first kiss?”
Your stomach flipped at the question. “I’m not sure. I don’t think we ever talked about it.”
“What if,” Karina said, narrowing her eyes, “he remembers, but he never tried anything with you because he knows if you two cross that line, it changes everything.”
That thought sat uneasily in your chest. Giselle leaned back. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”
“Nothing,” you said immediately.
They groaned in unison. “You have to at least ask him,” Ningning urged.
“Why? That’s just gonna make things weirder.”
“What’s weird is that you’re spiraling over this instead of just asking,” Giselle pointed out.
Karina agreed. “Yeah. What if this is your ‘childhood best friends to lovers’ arc?”
You shot her a look. “This is not a K-drama.”
“But it could be.”
You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? But I’m not just gonna randomly ask him if he remembers a kiss from when we were sixteen.”
“You won’t have to,” Karina chimed. “We’ll help you figure out the perfect way to bring it up.”
You had a feeling you were going to regret this.
Giselle smirked, stirring her drink. “See, this is why I always say men and women can’t be just friends.”
“We totally can,” you countered.
“Sure, whatever,” she said, unimpressed. “But at some point in every guy-girl friendship, there’s gonna be a small phase where one of them saw the other romantically. Or, in your case, had a history of sharing something as special as a first kiss.”
Your friends began teasing you about it. You could only frown and say nothing. Because, for the first time, you weren’t entirely sure if she was wrong.
Mark Lee was the last person you expected to run into.
You had been walking back to your apartment, your mind still agonizing about your conversation with your friends. The moment you spotted him, standing by the trunk of a car and hoisting a duffel bag over his shoulder, you almost gasped.
“Mark?” you called out, making him glance at you.
His face lit up in recognition. “No way. Look who it is.”
You walked towards him, smiling. “Hi.”
He shut the trunk with a firm thud and slung his bag higher onto his shoulder, his eyes scanning you briefly. “It’s been a while. You still live here?”
“Yeah,” you said. “You?”
“Nah, I’m actually moving out,” Mark replied. “I graduated last semester.”
Your brows lifted slightly. “Oh. Congratulations. I almost forgot you were a year ahead of us.”
“Thanks.” He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Feels weird, though. Like, I don’t think it’s hit me yet that I’m actually done with college.
“Four years of studying will probably do that to you,” you replied, chuckling.
“Four and a half for me,” he said, shaking his head.
You just nodded, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. A comfortable silence settled between you. It was nice seeing him, but now that you were talking to him, you realized you really didn’t have anything in common that you could talk about. You weren’t in the same circle of friends, nor were you particularly close. The only connection you had with him was Donghyuck.
“Hey, uh…” You saw hesitation flicker across his face before he offered a small smile. “I heard about Mykonos, Donghyuck and… everything.”
“Oh.” You froze, huffing a small laugh. “Yeah. That happened.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine. I’m fine now. I wasn’t but, I am now,” you explained, not wanting to divulge more. You didn’t want to ask. You could’ve just left it at that—just another casual encounter with an old neighbor. But before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.
“How is he? Donghyuck…”
Mark shrugged as if he was expecting you to ask that. “He’s fine, I think. He’s studying there and actually putting in the work to get good grades. We text here and there, and I saw him when I went home after graduation. He looks the same, still insufferable and an idiot, but… he’s okay.”
A strange feeling settled in your chest—something between relief and disappointment. Mark must have sensed something because he tilted his head slightly and showed a ‘calling’ gesture with his hand. “You wanna—?”
“No.” You cut him off before he could even suggest it. “It’s for the best.”
Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Alright. Well, I’ll tell him you said hi.”
You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. Take care, Mark.”
“You too.” And just like that, another piece of Donghyuck slipped through your fingers.
When you stepped into your apartment, the silence was almost jarring. No sounds of Jaemin humming to himself in the kitchen. No sight of him sprawled on the couch watching something ridiculous. The place felt... empty.
For a second, you thought maybe he was out. Then, you spotted his shoes by the door and figured he must be sleeping. Good. You weren’t in the mood to interact.
You went straight to your room, shedding your jacket and tossing your bag onto the chair. The moment you entered the bathroom, you turned the shower on, letting the water heat up as you pulled off your clothes. Under the spray, you closed your eyes, tilting your head back as the warmth soaked into your skin.
Donghyuck.
It hasn’t even been a year, yet somehow, it felt longer than that. You used to be neighbors. It used to annoy you when Donghyuck brought girls over, when the sounds of them having sex echoed faintly through your walls. That was before you knew what it was like to spend an entire summer with him—before you knew what it was like to fall into something messy and thrilling and impossible to forget.
You exhaled sharply and shut off the water. It was enough to know that he was doing well. That he was living his life properly. You weren’t hurt by what happened anymore, surprisingly. But a part of you still wished you were able to talk to him before he left. You deserved a proper goodbye. Especially with the scars left by that fateful event.
“Tragic,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the scar on your elbow.
The bathroom was still warm with steam when you stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around your body. Water dripped from your damp hair, trailing down your shoulders, but you barely noticed. Your thoughts were still in the past. You needed something to calm your nerves. Maybe tea.
You crossed the hallway to the kitchen, moving straight to the overhead cupboard. You stretched up on your toes, fingers barely grazing the box of tea on the top shelf but you couldn’t get it. Annoying. You tried again, straining a little harder but then suddenly, something brushed against your back.
You stiffened, breath catching as you turned only to find yourself face-to-face with Jaemin. Or rather, face-to-chest.
He had stepped up behind you so quietly you hadn’t even noticed, one arm reaching past you to grab the tea. His other hand rested against the counter beside you, blocking you in without even realizing it.
Your gaze flickered up just as he glanced down, and that’s when you realized how close you were. He was close. Really close.
His face was just inches from yours, close enough that you could catch the familiar scent of his detergent mixed with something distinctly him. His chest barely touched yours, but you felt every shift, every breath. The towel around you suddenly felt too thin.
Jaemin held the tea between you, as if just now realizing the way you were staring at him.
But instead of taking it, you asked, “Do you remember the time we played Seven Minutes in Heaven?”
You caught the small shift in his expression. Surely he’d know which specific time you were talking about right? If he remembered that kiss at all, surely he wouldn’t be confused and assume you were talking about all the times you’d played seven minutes in heaven?
But his response came quickly and with certainty. “I do.”
Your eyes traced his features, noting the way his gaze flickered downward to your chest, a split-second slip before he caught himself and turned his head slightly, jaw tensing. Your chest rose with a shallow breath.
“Did you know that was my first kiss?”
Jaemin was still looking away, but you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “I think you mentioned it,” he admitted.
Your fingers twitched before you lifted a hand to his cheek, your palm grazing the sharp line of his jaw before settling at the curve of his neck. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and his pulse was steady but strong.
“Then why did we both forget it ever happened?” you asked softly, eyes fixed on his lips, so close and so inviting.
Jaemin finally met your gaze. His lips parted as if to say something, but then he stopped. His eyes lowered, and when he looked at you again, his expression had changed.
“I didn’t forget.”
The words sent warmth through you. Your heart pounded in your ears as your fingers pressed lightly against his skin. Something about the way he was looking at you made it impossible to breathe, impossible to think. So you did the only thing your body seemed to understand at that moment—you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him.
Jaemin didn’t hesitate. His hands found your waist as he pulled you flush against him, his lips molding against yours, deep and persistent. Heat prickled at your skin, your fingers tightening in his hair as you tugged him closer for more. His grip on you was firm and possessive, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the way he was kissing you back.
Then a voice in your head screamed at you to stop.
You pushed him away, breathless, panic creeping into your heart as your hands pressed firmly on his chest. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
The words came out fast and desperate, but it sounded more like a statement to yourself than to him. Jaemin backed away, studying your face as he nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he breathed, and you weren’t sure if he meant it because it was impossible to read the expression on his face.
Either way, you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You held your towel in place and walked away.
Jaemin didn’t argue. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and hurried away, leaving behind the forgotten tea and the line you’d crossed to the point of no return.
The next morning, you did what any sane person would do—you pretended last night never happened.
You took your time getting out of bed, hoping that by the time you stepped into the kitchen, Jaemin would be gone. No such luck. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, looking relaxed and unbothered, like he hadn’t kissed you breathless in the kitchen less than twelve hours ago.
You ignored him. Moving around the kitchen, you focused on your routine—heat up leftovers, pour yourself some water, avoid looking in his direction. But you could feel his gaze on you, lazy and knowing, like he was waiting for something.
When you reached for a mug, his voice cut through the quiet. “The tea’s in the drawer. In case you want it.”
Your fingers twitched. You didn’t turn around, didn’t react, but you heard the insinuation in his tone, the meaning hiding between the lines. Still, you said nothing. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction
Later that day, you met up with your friends at the quad, lounging on the grass as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky. The conversation was light and fun, and for a moment, you were free from the clutches of Jaemin’s infuriatingly charming grin.
That is until he came strutting in with Renjun, drinks in hand.
Renjun handed the drink one-by-one. He’d asked if you girls wanted something from the cafe while he was there, so you texted him your orders. But now that he was handing you the iced tea you asked for, you hesitated to accept it.
“I’ll have coffee instead,” you said, pushing the drink back toward him.
Renjun frowned. “What? But you asked for iced tea? Honey lemon, right?”
Yes, right. But that was before you knew he’d be coming back with Na Jaemin. “I changed my mind.”
Jaemin, who had been watching the exchange, chuckled under his breath. “You don’t want your tea?” You shot him a warning glare, but he only smiled. He took his coffee and held it out to you instead. “Here, you can have mine. I’ll take the tea.”
You didn’t want to take anything from him, but declining again would make it obvious. So you exhaled sharply and snatched the cup from his hand, ignoring the way he grinned. Then, just as you took a sip, Jaemin said,
“You sure you don’t want your tea? You seemed pretty desperate for it last night.”
You nearly choked. Your grip on the cup tightened as heat flared up your cheeks. Jaemin only sipped his drink, looking perfectly fine while you struggled not to just go ahead and strangle him.
Before you could say anything, Giselle, who had been oblivious to the tension, turned to the group with a casual, “So, what were you guys like in high school?”
Karina, clearly picking up on her intention, hummed in thought. “High school me? Pretty boring, honestly. I was too busy studying to get a proper life.”
“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t get kissed in high school?”
“I did, of course. But not as much as I wished,” Karina replied, shaking her head. “My first kiss was because of a dare.”
“So is mine,” Giselle added, glancing sideways at you. “It was with my crush, but I stopped liking him after because he was such a lousy kisser.”
Then she turned to Jaemin. “What about you? Do you remember yours?”
You froze, realizing right then what they were doing. They had promised to help you figure out if Jaemin remembered that kiss all those years ago. And judging by the direction of this conversation, this was the help they meant. Not that it was necessary anymore. You had already asked him yourself.
But you couldn’t exactly tell them that. So you stayed silent, waiting, heart pounding a little too fast as Jaemin leaned back on his hands.
And then, he looked right at you. “I don’t remember my first kiss, exactly,” he said smoothly. “I do remember kissing someone recently, though.”
Your stomach dropped. His words sent a jolt of something hot through your veins—half panic, half something you didn’t know you’d feel for your best friend. You stared at him, pulse thundering in your ears, as his lips curved into the slightest smirk.
You were going to kill him.
But not right now. You were gonna take your time and kill him with no witness. So for now, you kept your distance. Even as the day stretched on, even as Jaemin hovered near, you refused to acknowledge him. When it was his turn to talk, you busied yourself with your phone. When he laughed at something, you pretended not to hear. And when it was finally time to head home, you walked ahead, ignoring the way he naturally fell into step beside you.
He didn’t say anything about it. Not once did he call your name or try to slow you down. At the apartment, you swung the door open and stepped inside first, not bothering to hold it for him. You kicked off your shoes, tossed your bag onto the couch, and started toward your bedroom.
But then he called your name and that made your patience snap.
“What is wrong with you?” you huffed, gesturing at him.
Jaemin’s voice was teasing, “What? What did I do?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You keep bringing it up.”
Jaemin didn’t even blink. “Bringing what up?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You know what.”
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I really don’t.”
You scoffed, stepping closer. “The kiss, Jaemin. You keep hinting at it. You were so obvious, you might as well have just announced it to everyone.”
Jaemin simply shrugged, the smirk on his lips irritating you more. “I wasn’t obvious. You’re the only one who noticed.”
“Why were you doing it in the first place?” you demanded, stepping right into his space. “I told you, that kiss didn’t mean anything.”
Jaemin’s gaze flickered. He stayed quiet for half a second too long before he closed the gap between you. You stepped back, suddenly nervous at how close he was being. He kept at it, stepping closer while you stepped back until your back hit your bedroom door.
“If it didn’t mean anything,” he said, voice slow and teasing, “why are you so worked up about it?”
You didn’t have an answer to that, and he knew it. He was watching you too closely, too carefully, catching the way your lips parted, then closed again.
So you did what you always did when backed into a corner. You brushed it off. “Just forget it ever happened,” you muttered, looking away.
Jaemin studied you for a second, then exhaled through his nose. “No.”
“Yes!” you insisted.
There was a long pause. Then, he sighed like he wasn’t happy about it but was willing to let you have this. “Fine.”
“Good.” You turned back toward your door, gripping the handle with a sigh of relief. But just as you started to push it open Jaemin tugged your wrist lightly, just enough to make you turn slightly toward him.
Eyes gleaming mischievously, he asked, “Wanna do it again?”
Heat shot up your cheeks, exasperation and something dangerously close to exhilaration rushing through you despite the fact that you should have been pissed.“Stop,” you said, exasperated, shoving the door closed in his face.
“Oh my god, stop it,” you muttered, slapping your palm on his chest and shoving the door closed in his face.
Only to rip it open a second later.
Jaemin barely had time to react because you quickly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was deep, hot, and feverish. Jaemin responded instantly, hands firm on your waist as he backed you against the doorframe, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
It was intoxicating, dizzying—the way he kissed, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this. But just before the moment took over completely, you pulled away, catching your breath.
Jaemin stared at you, lips parted, chest rising and falling. You stared into his eyes, then at his lips, biting your own as you savored the lingering sensations he’d left behind.
“You liked that?” he teased, catching the way you were looking at him. Flustered, you swallowed and quickly stepped back into your room, locking the door behind you before you could do something reckless again.
You leaned against it, heart racing, lips tingling, your skin still burning from the way he touched you. Then you heard him chuckle softly on the other side before he rapped his fist on the door, the sound startling you.
“You kissed me first, alright?” he called out, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice. “So you better not skip dinner because of this.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, biting back a smile. Then, with a quiet groan, you slid down to the floor, pressing your hands over your face and kicking your legs in the air as you tried your best not to squeal.
You told yourself it wouldn’t happen again. But then it did. It started small, so small that it was easy to pretend it was nothing. Like that morning in the kitchen when you were making coffee, and Jaemin leaned against the counter beside you, too close, as always. He watched as you poured sugar into your mug, his gaze intent and knowing.
“That’s too sweet,” he commented.
You paused, the spoon clinking against the ceramic. “It’s not. You just like yours bitter and sad.”
Jaemin hummed in amusement, then he said, “I like my coffee bitter, but I’ve been told many times that my kisses are very sweet.”
You scoffed, taking the spoon out of your mug and turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “You telling me you’ve kissed lots of people isn’t really convincing me to kiss you again.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to convince you yet,” he replied, grinning playfully. Without warning, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. Then he leaned forward to press a soft peck on your cheek. “This is me convincing you.”
You stared at him, unimpressed, and took a step back with your mug. “Not working.”
Jaemin only smirked. You sighed, turning away to grab some bread from the overhead cupboard. The moment your fingers came up short, he stepped in behind you, reaching for it easily. You exhaled at sudden feeling of a deja vu.
He held it out casually. “Here.”
But when you reached for it, he pulled it back—just far enough to make you glare at him—before swooping in and stealing a kiss from your lips.
You froze, still gripping your coffee. Jaemin, meanwhile, took your other hand, placed the bread in it, and patted your head like nothing had happened. Then he walked away whistling, leaving you standing there, mildly annoyed.
You recovered quickly though, placing the mug and the bread on the countertop and trudging toward him with heavy steps. Jaemin noticed and turned to look at you with that stupid smirk he always had.
“Oh, hi. What are you—”
You grabbed his collar and pulled him down, cutting him off with your lips pressed firmly against his. It was deep and reckless, but only for a few seconds. When you pulled away, Jaemin looked shocked.
And then he smirked. “Oh,” he mused, tilting his head. “So now you’re playing my game?”
You scoffed, tightening your grip on his shirt. “What game?” you asked before kissing him again.
And from then on, it was like a challenge. In your shared apartment, in the moments in between, in the spaces where no one was watching—you both kept crossing that line, over and over again.
A stolen kiss behind the bookshelf at the library. A lazy makeout session in the empty hallway of your apartment when you both got home late. A whispered “You drive me crazy,” before Jaemin kissed you stupid against the fridge door one evening, his hands firm on your waist, your fingers tangling in his hair, neither of you stopping until the timer on the microwave beeped.
And through it all, neither of you ever talked about it. Because if you did—if you admitted how much you wanted it—you wouldn’t be able to stop. If you acknowledged what was really happening, you’d have to stop pretending that it was nothing. That it didn’t mean anything. And that was something you weren’t ready for.
And then there was that night on the couch.
It had started with an old movie playing on the TV, both of you sitting closely and sharing a blanket. Jaemin had his arm on the back of the couch, fingers idly playing with the strands of your hair. It was harmless at first, but then his fingers trailed down the back of your neck, light and slow, and you felt goosebumps all over your body.
You turned your head slightly to look at him, only to find that he was already staring at you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were dark and focused. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Jaemin was faster. His fingers tipped your chin, tilting your face toward his as he leaned in.
The first kiss was soft, almost hesitant. But then you sighed into it, melting just enough for him to take control. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, and before you knew it, you were on your back, Jaemin hovering over you without breaking the kiss.
The movie was forgotten, its noise fading into the background as the sound of your shallow breaths echoed in the room. His kisses trailed lower, grazing your jaw, all the way down to your throat. You gasped when he found a spot just beneath your ear, his teeth nipping at it before soothing the bite with his tongue.
“Jaemin,” you murmured, your fingers slipping into the back collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath.
“Mmh,” he hummed against your skin, not stopping.
His hands were already sliding under your sweater, warm against your bare skin. Your legs parted beneath him, your body arching into his touch before you could stop yourself.
And then when his hand dipped down to your lower abdomen, you tensed. Not because you didn’t want it, but because you did. Too much. Jaemin must have felt it because he paused immediately. His lips hovered over your collarbone, his breathing unsteady, before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you.
His voice was low when he asked, “Should we stop?”
You swallowed hard, nodding against your wishes. “Yeah. We probably should.”
Neither of you moved for a moment. His hands were still on you, your fingers brushing his back, and it would’ve been so easy to pull him back down, to let him keep going. But then he exhaled, forcing himself to sit up, and you followed, scooting to put a little space between you.
The movie was still playing, though neither of you paid it any attention. Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you with a half-smirk, though his voice was rough when he spoke.
“We’re really bad at pretending this is nothing, you know.”
You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head as you folded your legs beneath you. “You’re right. It’s ridiculous.”
And just like that, it was over. For now, at least.
There was a strange feeling in your chest lately, something you couldn’t quite put a name to. Like the rush of something new, conflicting with the pressure of something unresolved.
You had spent the past weeks trying not to think too hard about Jaemin, about the way your lips kept finding his, about how easy it was to pretend nothing had changed when, deep down, you knew everything had.
But pretending only worked for so long. Because no matter how much you tried to move forward, some things still followed behind you. Some things still had a hold on you, however faint. And just as you were starting to believe you had left it all in Mykonos, there he was.
Donghyuck.
Standing just outside the campus gates, hands in his pockets, bouncing lightly on his heels with an impatient look on his face, as if he’d been standing there for a long time now. He was waiting for someone, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his face broke into a wide grin.
And just like that, all the hesitation that had been creeping up inside you disappeared. You ran across the quad toward him. “Hyuck!”
His laughter was warm as you threw your arms around him, his embrace just as familiar as you remembered. He still smelled like summer—bright, musky, and reckless, even in the cool autumn air.
“I was waiting here expecting you’d ignore me,” he teased, pulling back to look at you. “I would’ve chased you down if you did, though.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping back, but there was no denying the way your heart ached a little. Not in the way it used to, but in the way that happens when you reunite with someone who once held every piece of you in their hands.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you at all,” you admitted. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. Why else would I be here if not for you?” Donghyuck said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not here to get back together or anything. Not that you were expecting me to.”
You let out a small chuckle, but he wasn’t wrong. That thought had never crossed your mind. “You wish I want you back, don’t you?” you teased, making him laugh.
“Do you have time? Can we talk?” he asked, motioning outside the gates.
“Absolutely,” you replied without missing a beat, following after him.
You walked from the campus to the nearby cafe where you ordered food and spent the first few minutes laughing and talking about stupid things. Then the conversation turned serious, which was not something that often happened between the two of you, but you listened to what he had to say anyway.
“I really, really wanted to stay and wait for you to wake up,” he began, referring to when you had a coma after being run over by a car. “But it was out of my hands and I haven’t been on my best behavior for the longest time so… that was the last straw. My parents were furious and Hyung had no choice but to send me back.”
You bit your lip, nodding. “I figured you weren’t allowed to contact me after that?”
“Oh, I wish it was only that,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Because then I would have had chances to contact you in secret. But I wasn’t allowed any electronics at all. Not a phone, not even the computers at uni. I could only meet my friends at home and their phones are confiscated before they even step into the house.”
You winced. “That’s awful.”
He sighed. “You have no idea. I was going nuts! They put me in rehab too for my drinking problems.”
“You had drinking problems?”
“I have drinking habits that they didn’t like so they saw it as a problem.” He chuckled, flashing that boyish smirk you used to hate but had grown to love. “What about you? How are you doing? I heard you skipped a semester?”
“Well, moving on from something that major wasn’t exactly a walk in the park,” you replied, laughing at your own expense. You told him what had happened after that summer. How you came home heartbroken and sad. How you had to get therapy because you were showing signs of depression. How you moved on from it all but still didn’t know how to properly live the life you used to have before that summer. It was a six-month battle and it had been ten months since that fateful summer, but looking back on it now, it felt so much longer than that.
“I’m glad I came. I owed you an explanation, so I had to find a way,” he said, his voice softening. “And I wanted to see how you were doing.”
Something in your chest tightened. You had spent the past months wishing that fate would at least grant you this—closure, a proper goodbye. And now that it was here, it felt like a load was being taken off of your shoulders.
“I’m doing okay,” you said honestly. “And thanks… For coming, I mean. And for being safe.”
Donghyuck smiled wistfully. “I have Taeyong Hyung to thank for that. He convinced our parents to let me come. Told them I needed to ‘learn from the field.’” He made air quotes, then dropped his hands with a small shrug. “Truth is, he just wanted to help me see you.”
Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything, Donghyuck grinned. “Guess I’m still the guy who gets what I want, huh?”
You laughed despite yourself. “Looks like it.”
“Yeah. Not all the time now, though. Just sometimes.”
It was strange, this conversation. Maybe time really does heal everything, or maybe you were already healed on your own before today. Either way, as you sat there with Donghyuck laughing, catching up, and looking back on the wildest days of your youth so far, your heart felt lighter and the world seemed to shine brighter with his smile.
“That’s my ride,” he said at one point, looking outside the cafe. You followed his gaze and spotted Taeyong standing by the curb, leaning against the car, waiting.
You turned back to Donghyuck, feeling just a tiny bit sad that this chat was almost over. “Well. I guess this is it.”
He nodded, watching you carefully. “Don’t forget me, okay?”
You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t think I could if I tried. This scar right here spells your name out,” you quipped, pointing to the scar on your elbow which you got from the accident.
Donghyuck reached to feel it, his touch gentle and warm. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” you said, watching his solemn expression. “I got it after you saved me, so, thank you for this.”
Something passed through his eyes, something unreadable that he masked with a smirk. “Yeah. Not really exciting. I’m more used to leaving bruises on your neck than scars that don’t disappear.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Sucks to be you. You won’t be leaving bruises on this neck anymore.”
Donghyuck made a show of clutching his broken heart. “What have I done?” he whined, fake-crying.
That made you laugh, and in the quiet that followed, you reached forward and squeezed his hand, offering him one last comforting smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You too,” he murmured, squeezing your hand back.
As you both stepped out of the cafe, you turned to Taeyong, who gave you a small nod, like he knew what this moment meant to you. “Thanks,” you told him sincerely.
He didn’t ask questions, just nodded again and slipped into the car with Donghyuck. You watched them drive away with a comforting sense of fulfillment blooming in your chest. Then you noticed a presence appearing beside you, and you didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.
“You good?” Jaemin asked, peering down at your face.
You chuckled, linking your arm through his as you started walking. “I’m fine. We had our closure. He’s okay, and I’m okay. So I’m fine.”
“Good. I was just asking to make sure you didn’t break down crying,” he teased.
You scoffed, hitting his arm. “That’s right. Make fun of someone’s heart ache. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
Jaemin grinned, giving your hand a small squeeze. The moment passed, fading into the rest of your day.
You weren’t sure when it started feeling different. Maybe it was after the first time you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. Or maybe it was in the moments in between, the ones that had nothing to do with kissing.
But the kissing didn’t stop. It was easy to blame it on your body. That was the logical answer, wasn’t it? You hadn’t had any action in a while, and now Jaemin was right there, warm and solid, tempting and willing. The way he kissed you made your skin burn, made your stomach flutter, made you crave more. It had to be that. Just chemistry. Just a reaction to touch and proximity—a biological response, if you please.
And yet, in the late hours of the night, when you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, it was never just the stolen kisses that stayed in your mind.
It was the way he always waited for you after class. The way he pulled you to the inside of the sidewalk when you walked together, his hand pressing lightly against your lower back. The way he noticed when you were exhausted and handed you a water bottle before you even asked. The way he listened intently whenever you spoke, no matter how insignificant the topic was.
Jaemin had always been like this. Thoughtful. Gentle. Attentive in ways no one else was. But now, it made you wonder, was it really just because you were his best friend? Or had he always seen you more than just a friend and you were just too blind, too caught up in your own world, to realize it?
It bothered you more than you wanted to admit. It followed you through every sneaky kiss, every whispered tease against your lips, every smirk before he kissed you breathless against some forgotten corner of your apartment. Until, one day, it became too much.
Jaemin was being especially affectionate that afternoon. Not in the usual teasing way, not in the way that led to secret kisses or knowing glances. He was just doting. Leaning close, brushing your hair back, tucking it behind your ear. Making sure you weren’t too cold, giving you his jacket before you even noticed the cold. He smiled at you like you hung the damn stars, his eyes soft and fond.
And you snapped. “Can you please stop acting like my boyfriend?” you blurted, voice sharper than intended.
Jaemin froze, his hands pausing in the middle of adjusting your sleeve. His brows lifted just slightly, before his expression carefully smoothed over.
“Right,” he said lightly like it was no big deal. But his hands dropped from you, and his gaze grew colder.
You expected him to say something else, maybe throw out a cocky remark, maybe push back. But he just stepped away, nodding like he understood, and left you standing there without another word.
And for some reason, that felt worse than if he had argued with you.
Maybe it was for the best. For the next few days, you and Jaemin kept a comfortable distance from each other. No more stolen moments hidden from other people’s eyes. No more lingering touches. No more knowing glances. You admit it was hard to get used to it, but it was better that way.
One afternoon, when the sun was gentle enough for you to hang out at the quad, and the atmosphere was just like every other day with the usual campus chatter, students huddled in groups, couples hanging out by the benches, laughter echoing from clusters of friends. You were walking with Karina, listening to her rant about an upcoming exam, when something caught your eye.
Jaemin.
He stood a short distance away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, a relaxed smile on his lips. Beside him, a girl laughed at something he said, her head tilting back slightly, short blonde hair falling over her shoulder. She was pretty—undeniably so. And Jaemin was watching her laugh—amused, warm, unbothered.
“Who’s that?” The question left your mouth before you could think twice about it.
Karina followed your gaze and made a noise of recognition. “Oh. That’s Minjeong.”
You blinked. The name was vaguely familiar, but not enough for you to immediately place it. “Minjeong?”
Karina turned to you, looking genuinely surprised. “You know, Winter? Jaemin’s ex. You seriously don’t remember?”
Oh. That Minjeong.
You remember her now. She was the girl he had dated last year, the one he had broken up with after a short while. You hadn’t paid much attention to her then—Jaemin had simply told you they didn’t see eye to eye, and you hadn’t questioned it. He never seemed all that affected by the breakup, so you figured it hadn’t been anything serious. But now, standing there watching them, a strange thought lodged itself in your mind. Jaemin lied.
Because right now, they looked like they were seeing eye to eye just fine.
You swallowed, looking away before you could overthink it any further. Karina, thankfully, moved the conversation along.
“By the way,” she started, narrowing her eyes slightly, “what’s up with you and Jaemin?”
Your head snapped toward her. “Nothing.”
She gave you a skeptical look. “Really? Because you two seem kinda distant lately. Did you fight?”
“No,” you answered quickly. Because technically, you hadn’t. “There’s no reason for us to fight.”
Karina hummed, unconvinced. “Okay. That’s even more suspicious.”
You frowned. “How is that suspicious?”
“Because you and Jaemin always come up with things to fight about,” she said simply. “If you’re not overly clingy, you’re fighting about something minor. It’s always one or the other.”
You exhaled sharply. “We didn’t fight. And we’re not distant. We’re just being… friends. Like usual.”
“Okay, let’s just say I believe that and you’re not very suspicious right now because I have a feeling you’d snap at me if I push your buttons,” said Karina, stepping back a little.
You rolled your eyes, brushing her comments aside. She wasn’t wrong. You and Jaemin were either attached by the hip or fighting, no in between. You bickered, pushed and pulled like it was second nature. But lately...
Lately, he had given you space. After what you’d said to him, after the way his expression had cooled and he had simply left, he had kept his distance. And somehow, that felt worse than all the arguments in the world.
It was cliché at this point. Your life wasn’t some rom-com flick, but it seemed to be thriving on predictable storylines. Like right now—just when you were struggling to figure out what to do about this whole mess with Jaemin, of course, someone had to show up to stir things up.
Admitting you were jealous was the last thing you wanted to do. Because doing so meant admitting that you liked him as more than a friend. And acknowledging that meant defeat. You didn’t like defeat. Love and relationships had defeated you several times before. You weren’t about to let it happen again.
And yet, there she was. Minjeong—Winter—whatever people called her now. She was pretty. Endearing. Adorable, even. The kind of girl that made it impossible to dislike her. And that just made it worse.
She was likable. Genuinely likable. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate her, which would have been easier. But that didn’t change the fact that seeing her next to Jaemin made something twist in your chest
And Jaemin? He looked… happy? That smile, the way his eyes crinkled as he watched her laugh at something he said. It was the kind of look you’d seen a hundred times before, but right now, you hated it. Right now, you wanted to forfeit your pride, march over there, and pull him away from her.
Which was stupid. You were being stupid. You took a deep breath, shaking off the thought just as you passed their table.
“Lunch?” Jaemin offered casually, as if he weren’t sitting there with his ex.
You barely spared him a glance. “No, thanks,” you said curtly, your voice colder than you intended. You walked past him and went straight to your friends’ table.
Karina raised an eyebrow when you plopped down across from her, stabbing your fork into your food a little too aggressively. “So… that’s a ‘no’ to talking things out?” she asked dryly.
You exhaled sharply, refusing to look back at Jaemin’s table. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you muttered.
Karina hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Right. And I’m Beyonce’s daughter.”
You weren’t proud of it, but your mood had been awful all week. You snapped at Renjun over something trivial, ignored Jaemin’s messages, and couldn’t focus in class because every time you blinked, you saw her—Winter, laughing, tilting her head toward Jaemin like he was the most interesting person in the room. And Jaemin? He was eating it up.
You buried yourself in your studies, submitting assignments ahead of deadline, studying for quizzes, and doing advance reading. You used to hate presentations, but you were thankful for having one because you had something to keep your mind off of things.
But at the end of the day, when you were done with everything and fatigue was catching up to you fast, all you wanted was a familiar, comforting presence to keep you sane. Giselle and Karina were unavailable. Renjun might be free but you weren’t close enough to hang out with just the two of you.
Jaemin was your only choice. Not that it was because you were out of options, in fact, he’d always been the first choice. So when you finally caved and texted him, you were completely caught off-guard by his answer.
You: Are you free?
Nana: No.
It was a simple response. Nothing inherently wrong with it. But it didn’t come with an apology, or an I’ll see you later, or even a What’s up?—just No.
And that stung, squeezing painfully at your heart. But what really did it was seeing him a few minutes later, leaving the library with Winter, laughing at something she said.
You were sitting on the steps just outside the entrance, waiting for Giselle, when you spotted them. Jaemin had his hands in his pockets, casual and unbothered, while Winter gestured about something, her voice cute and teasing. They stopped a few feet away, still talking, and you had a front-row seat to the easy, unhurried way Jaemin listened to her, the amused smirk tugging at his lips.
He looked like he had all the time in the world for her. Not even a few minutes ago, he had been too busy for you.
You sat there, gripping your phone, overthinking every possible meaning behind this moment. Had he chosen to spend time with her instead? Was he making some kind of decision without telling you?
And then, as if he could sense someone’s eyes on him, Jaemin turned his head, his eyes landing on you.
Your heart leaped to your throat. This was it. This was the moment where he’d see you, where he’d realize you were right there, waiting. Where he’d excuse himself and come over because that’s just what Jaemin would do.
Except… he didn’t. He looked at you, waved with a smile, then turned back to Winter and kept walking.
The impact was immediate, a slap to the face without ever being touched. You didn’t even realize Giselle had arrived until she waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to you. Are you okay?”
You exhaled through your nose, keeping a neutral expression. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
You stood up, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets, willing yourself not to look back. But Giselle had seen exactly what you had been staring at.
“Huh,” she mused as you both started walking. “Didn’t expect that.”
You sighed. “Expect what?”
Giselle jerked her chin toward Jaemin and Winter. “Them, hanging out again. I thought they ended things on bad terms.”
Your fingers curled inside your pockets. “You knew about them?”
Giselle shot you a confused look. “Of course, I knew. You did too. She used to give Jaemin hell for always hanging out with you.”
Your steps faltered. Right, there was that. If the two of them were together trying to rekindle their old relationship, of course, she wouldn’t want Jaemin hanging out with you. She used to hate it before, and she had no reason to like it now. Especially if she knew you and Jaemin had crossed the line.
But knowing that made you angrier. Why would he try to get back with his ex just days after being rejected by you? Was Jaemin always like this? Fickle and move on to the next girl as soon as he was done with one?
You knew you were overthinking things. You knew Jaemin wasn't that kind of guy. But the thought still made you seethe.
Jaemin was waiting when you got home. You barely glanced at him as you kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag onto the couch, your exhaustion amplified with irritation. You had spent hours at the café, helping yourself to a single drink, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying (and failing) to distract yourself from the mess in your head.
“Where were you?” Jaemin asked, his voice casual. “Had dinner yet?”
You didn’t look at him as you walked toward the kitchen. “Out. And I’m not hungry.”
Jaemin, of course, didn’t let that slide. “Out where?”
You opened the fridge, staring blankly at its contents. “Why do you care?”
Silence. Then, slowly, carefully, he said, “Are you mad? You sound mad.”
That did it. The way he said it like he genuinely didn’t know, like he couldn’t possibly fathom why you might be upset, snap the tiny thread holding your patience together. You shut the fridge door, finally turning to face him. “Why would I be mad, Jaemin?” you said, voice cool, almost mocking. “It’s not like I expected anything from you.”
Jaemin blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me.” You crossed your arms, your pulse hammering. “I asked if you were free. You said no. And then five minutes later, there you were, walking out of the library with your ex-girlfriend who used to hate my guts. Laughing, smiling, acting like you had all the time in the world.”
Realization dawned in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, so you pushed further, your voice gaining an edge. “So forgive me for assuming I wasn’t worth squeezing into your very busy schedule, and getting mad about it.”
Jaemin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Are you serious?”
You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, I promise you, I’m dead serious.”
“You’re mad because I was with Winter?”
“I don’t know, Jaemin, should I be?”
His expression darkened. “Oh, come on. You know what that was.”
“Do I?” You shot back. “Because from where I was sitting, it looked a hell of a lot like you choosing her over me.”
Jaemin stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s not what that was! You’re jumping into conclusion and it’s not fair.”
“Neither is you acting like I’m supposed to be fine with being ditched without so much as an explanation! You’re the one who acted like you’d literally combust if I so much as disappear from your sight, now you pick someone over me like I’m nothing?” The words came out louder than you intended, echoing in the small space between you.
The silence that followed was loud and suffocating. Jaemin took a step closer, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “You’re the one who told me to stop acting like your boyfriend.”
Your breath caught in your throat, but he wasn’t done yet. “And now, what? You’re mad that I did?” He tilted his head, eyes searching yours. “What do you want?”
You wanted to yell at him. To push him away. To tell him he was an idiot for not knowing, for not seeing. But you had to stop yourself. Because to answer that question, to say the words out loud, meant admitting the truth. And you weren’t ready for that.
So you did what you always did when things got too real. You turned away. “Forget it,” you muttered, moving to walk past him.
Jaemin didn’t let you. Before you could take another step, his hand caught your wrist, yanking you back just enough for you to stumble into him. His arms caged you in, backing you against the counter. “Jaemin—”
“Tell me.” His voice was low, his face inches from yours. His grip on your wrist wasn’t tight, but it was firm, keeping you there. “Tell me why you’re mad. Or I’ll make you.”
Your breath hitched at the promise in his tone. Your heart was hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it. And then, before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “I was jealous, okay?”
The second the confession left your lips, you saw the glint of relief in his eyes. His grip loosened, but he didn’t pull away. He just stood there, watching you with a smile threatening to tug at his lips.
Heat crawled up your neck. “You knew,” you blurted out and the smirk he was concealing finally revealed itself.
He knew and he just wanted you to say it out loud. Annoyed, you tried to twist out of his hold, but Jaemin was faster. He caught your face in his hands, tilting it up, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones.
“You’re jealous?” he echoed softly, like he needed to hear it again to believe it.
“Na Jaemin, I swear to god—” He didn’t let you finish. His lips crashed against yours, stealing whatever excuse, whatever deflection you were about to throw out. It wasn’t like the other times. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playful. It was urgent, consuming, an answer to every question you refused to ask.
You gasped, and Jaemin took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, pressing you further into the counter. One hand slid down, gripping your waist, the other tangling in your hair. You should have stopped him. Should have shoved him away. But instead, your hands found his shoulders, clinging to him like your life depended on it.
When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless. “You’re jealous,” he said again, softer this time.
You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into his shirt. “Shut up.”
Jaemin chuckled. “Winter and I… we—” He paused, searching for the words. “It’s not what you think.”
Your stomach flipped. “It better not be,” you scoffed, hiding behind the mask of nonchalance. Jaemin chuckled.
“I wasn’t choosing her over you.” His fingers brushed against your cheek. “We got paired for a group project and we’ve been working on it all week. Earlier when you texted me, we were heading out to submit it.”
You stared at him, still breathless, your mind scrambling to process what he just said. A group project. That was it? That was all it was?
The weight in your chest lifted so suddenly that you nearly laughed at yourself. The past week—your overthinking, your jealousy, the way you’d lashed out at him—had all been over something so stupid.
“Oh my god.” You shut your eyes, mortified. “You’re kidding.”
“Wouldn’t joke about this,” said Jaemin laughing. “I’m sorry, I should have explained it at least.”
You groaned, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. “I’m actually gonna die of embarrassment.”
He chuckled, his arms wrapping fully around you now. “Yeah? Well, you should know I’d never choose anyone before you. There’s no one above you, silly.”
“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, Jaemin,” you chided, pulling back to glare at him. “You can’t just put me first over everything.”
Jaemin only smirked, his fingers tightening at your waist. “I don’t want a girlfriend. You’re all I want.”
“Don’t say that,” you muttered, burying your face in his chest. “What if I can’t reciprocate?”
“Well, you were jealous of me and my ex,” he murmured, his tone teasing, but there was something else underneath it—something smug, satisfied. “That’s a good start.”
“Oh my god, enough!” you huffed, pushing him away and trying to escape his hold but he was quick to lift you by the waist, setting you down on the counter.
Before you could argue, before you could even think of something to say that would salvage your dignity, Jaemin kissed you again, lips moving against yours with a heat that sent your mind spiraling. His hands held you firmly, one on your waist, the other cradling your face like he was afraid you’d pull away.
You weren’t pulling away. That fact alone should have set off alarms in your head, but right now, you didn’t care. Not about pride, not about the mess between you, not about the fact that this was probably the worst way to handle your emotions.
Just as you were starting to get consumed by the heat of his touch, Jaemin pulled away and you scoffed before you could even think twice about it.
“You’re so annoying,” you muttered against his lips.
Jaemin exhaled a breathless laugh, looking up at you with that handsome grin he always had on. “And you’re stubborn.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, his voice lower now, rough with restraint. “I thought you didn’t want me acting like your boyfriend.”
You swallowed, your heart beating wildly as you met his gaze. “I don’t,” you whispered, slipping your hand inside the collar of his shirt to rub his back. “But I still want you.”
Jaemin went still for a split second, his grip tightening. “Say that again,” he said—no, he pleaded, eyes glassy with desperation and desire.
“I want you, Jaemin,” you obliged, swallowing shyly.
His mouth crashed onto yours, all restraints melting away. The kiss was deeper, messier, a collision of breath and want, like he was finally letting himself feel everything he’d been holding back. You barely had time to process before he wrapped your legs around his torso, lifted you from the counter, and carried you across the apartment into his bedroom, his body hot against yours.
His hands skimmed down your waist, sliding under the hem of your sweater, palms warm against your skin. His lips moved down to your jaw, then lower, lingering at the soft spot beneath your ear. Jaemin groaned when you arched your hips against his crotch, his grip on your hips tightening like he was holding himself back—like he was still trying to be careful. But you didn’t want careful. You wanted reckless.
You tugged his shirt off, fingers tracing the smooth lines of his back as he pressed you down into the mattress. His lips were feverish, moving with a desperation that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. When he pulled back to look at you, his pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he was struggling to catch his breath.
“Let me.” His voice was rough, hand sliding down your thigh. “Let me take care of you.” His fingers found the waistband of your shorts, toying with the fabric like he was waiting for permission, but you just spread your legs wider.
He cursed under his breath before his lips were on your throat again, trailing lower, his hands already working to get rid of the last pieces of clothing you both had. Every touch was hot as he whispered promises against your skin—promises he was more than ready to keep.
He lowered himself, head disappearing between your legs. He took a sniff, nose pressing against your sex before he licked a stripe on it.
“Jaemin,” you breathed, your entire body burning with anticipation and want.
Jaemin responded by sucking at your cunt, making you gasp as the first bout of pleasure washed over you. He kept at it, lapping and licking, fucking you with his tongue while you writhed and moaned. You clutched your fingers at his hair, wanting so much to push him away, but you kept pulling his face closer for more.
He rose to meet your gaze at one point, with a smirk gracing his lips, making you lose your mind further because of how hot he looked.
“If you keep shouting like that…” he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your lips as his finger slipped into your sex. He kissed you again just when you were about to moan. “...the neighbors will hear and they’ll know.”
You didn’t care, but you covered your mouth anyway, biting your lower lip as well to make sure you weren’t too loud. Jaemin moved his fingers, in and out, curling and pressing, all while watching every shift in your reaction. When he pushed another finger inside, you failed to stifle a gasp, your hand flying to his arm and squeezing it tightly.
“Shh,” he shushed gently, kissing you once before he went down on you again. And he took his time, teasing, tasting, dragging out every moment until you were trembling beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders in a feeble attempt to not lose your mind at the mind-blowing orgasm that washed over you.
Jaemin kissed you again as he positioned himself between your legs, his manhood prodding your entrance. “Tell me you want this.”
Your hands found their way on his chest, feeling the firm muscles, the way his stomach tensed at your touch. You nodded, still dazed, already losing yourself in him.
“Use your words, baby,” Jaemin coaxed, his voice a little uneven now, like he was barely keeping himself together.
You reached to cup his cheek. “I want this. I want you, Jaemin,” you whispered, and his answering curse was swallowed by your lips as he kissed you again.
His lips on yours muffled the gasps you let out when he slid his manhood in—rough despite the wetness of your orgasm, stretching you impossibly wide. “You okay?” he asked, voice strained with concern.
You nodded quickly, overwhelmed, and he kissed you again, swallowing your soft whimper. “Relax for me,” he whispered soothingly. “I’ve got you.”
He moved with a patience that contradicted the way his body trembled against yours, like he wanted to take his time, like he was memorizing every sound and expression you made. His hands traced along your ribs, slow and reverent, before sliding down to your thighs, gripping them with just enough force to make your breath hitch. His movements were steady, his thrusts heavy as he pounded into you.
“You feel so good,” he breathed against your lips, his voice wrecked. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”
You barely had time to respond before he kissed you again, deeper, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands slid higher, exploring every inch of exposed skin, setting your nerves on fire. When he started ramming harder, you let out broken gasps and whimpers, and that sound had him gripping you tighter.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, lips brushing along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. “Tell me what you need, baby.”
You swallowed, eyes rolling back as you held onto him for dear life. “I don’t know,” you admitted in a ragged voice, but Jaemin just hummed, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
“Yes, you do,” he coaxed, straightening up on his knee and gripping both of you thighs as he tried to plunge in as deep as he could. “You want this.”
“Harder,” you managed to croak out, shutting your eyes as he drove you further into the edge.
Jaemin hummed, and you could picture the smirk on his lips. “Harder, yes?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, desire clouding your judgment. “Please.”
“I’ve got you,” he promised before obliging.
Every touch, every kiss, every reassurance had you melting beneath him. He was everywhere, and you wanted more of him. Needed more of him. He gave you everything. He kissed his way down your body, slow and reverent. Every time you gasped, every time your breath hitched, he murmured against your skin—
“That’s it, baby.” “You’re so beautiful like this.” “Let me make you feel good.”
And you did. More than you ever had before. And when he finally pushed you past the point of no return, you realized—he had always been there to catch you. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as Jaemin exhaled a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours before collapsing above you.
The silence between you was jarring. It was the kind silence that didn’t belong in a space that had only ever been filled with teasing, bickering, and laughter. The sheets were tangled between your legs, your skin still warm from being touched by Jaemin. But the aftermath of the warmth that had consumed you moments ago was heavy.
Regret wasn’t the word—not exactly. But uncertainty sat heavily in your chest, and you hated it. You exhaled, staring at the ceiling, before finally voicing the question that had been gnawing at you since the haze of desire dissipated. “What now?”
Your voice came out quieter than expected. You turned your head to look at him. “Why did we do this? What if we ruined everything?”
Jaemin was propped up on one elbow, watching you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. He didn’t look the least bit conflicted. If anything, he looked like a man who had finally gotten what he wanted.
He smiled. “Baby, we were done the moment you kissed me in front of that fridge a few weeks ago. This friendship? It ended right then and there.”
You swallowed, trying to make sense of his words. “I never wanted to be friends with you anyway,” he added, voice soft but unwavering. “Did you forget that?”
You hummed. “Isn’t that kind of a betrayal, though?” You searched his face, looking for something—an answer, a reassurance, maybe even a reason to argue. “You’ve loved me all these years, and here I was, thinking you were my best friend.”
Jaemin’s eyes darkened, but not in the way they had earlier. This was something more profound. “I do love you,” he admitted. “But not all these years.”
Your heart lurched painfully. “What—”
“I liked you when we were younger,” he clarified, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. “But we became friends, so I let it go. You were happy with other people, and I was happy being the one who stood beside you.” He exhaled, the tension in his grip loosening. “I only realized I loved you now. Not because I was waiting, not because I was hoping, but because tonight, you looked at me the way I used to look at you.”
Your lips parted, but no words came out. The way he said it, so simple yet so profound, left you at a loss. “You’re so cheesy,” you muttered instead, forcing lightness into your tone.
Jaemin only chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s okay. I know you’ll love me anyway.”
It was sweet. He was sweet. And for a split second, you wanted to believe in the warmth of this moment, in the possibility that maybe you could finally have something good.
But then reality sank its claws into you, dragging you back down. You weren’t in the right headspace for this. Not now. Maybe not ever. Your heart still bore the scars of past failures, of love stories that had ended in ruins. You didn’t trust yourself to make this work, to not destroy something before it even had the chance to grow.
You couldn’t risk it. Especially not with Jaemin, your best friend, your emergency contact—the one person you knew would have your back no matter what happened.
The hesitation must have shown on your face because Jaemin’s expression shifted. He didn’t look disappointed. He didn’t even look surprised. If anything, he just looked patient.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, stroking your cheek. “You can take your time.”
Your throat tightened. “And if I never push through with it?”
Jaemin smiled, something achingly fond in his gaze. “Then I’ll still be here. And I won’t hate you for it.”
That was the thing about Jaemin. He never asked for more than you were willing to give. And somehow, that made you want to give him everything.
Jaemin didn’t hesitate when he asked for his right to act on his feelings. He promised he wouldn’t push too far, wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want, but he wanted to be able to touch you, hold you, kiss you when he felt like it. And for some reason, you didn’t push him away. Maybe because deep down, you liked it too much. Maybe because it was easier to indulge than to fight it.
So you let it happen. You let him linger closer, let his hands find yours whenever you were within reach. You let yourself fall into his presence, allowing the way he touched you to become something you expected, something you craved, even if you wouldn’t say it out loud.
Mornings changed first. You got used to waking up to the press of his body against yours, to the weight of his arm over your waist. He was always warm, always impossibly comfortable. Jaemin, who once used to be the one dragging you out of bed, now found excuses to keep you there.
If you tried to get up, he’d pull you right back, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. “Five more minutes.”
You’d roll your eyes, and push at his chest, only for him to hug you tighter, murmuring something about how you smelled too nice for him to let go yet. You always huffed at him, but you never actually pulled away.
Jaemin took care of you in the smallest, most effortless ways. Your coffee was already waiting for you before you even asked. On mornings when you slept in, he’d slip into your room just to leave a cup on your nightstand, the smell of roasted beans waking you up before the sunlight even had the chance.
When you cooked together, he always found ways to touch you. Guiding you from behind when you stirred the pot, his hands sliding to your waist like it was second nature. He’d taste whatever you were making and hum in approval, then kiss the side of your head just because.
He always looked at you like that too, like you were something precious, something his. And you let him.
The little touches never stopped. A hand on the small of your back when he passed by. Fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked your hair behind your ear. When you got too focused, too lost in your work, he’d lean in and press a quick kiss to your cheek, just to remind you that he was still there. He did it so casually, so confidently, like touching you was as easy as breathing.
But it wasn’t just at home where things changed. At school, Jaemin was just as affectionate. He sat closer than usual, his knee bumping against yours under the table, his hand resting on your lower back whenever he leaned in to speak. He stole sips from your drinks, stole bites of your food, stole every excuse to touch you in ways that, had anyone been paying closer attention, would have looked like something far more than friendship.
But no one noticed. Because, to them, you and Jaemin had always been this way—close, affectionate, orbiting around each other like you were both integral parts of each other. No one questioned it when he pulled you onto his lap during movie nights at Giselle’s place because it was easier than sharing the small couch. No one batted an eye when he draped an arm over your shoulders at lunch, absentmindedly playing with your hair as he listened to Karina talk about weekend plans. Not even Giselle, who usually had a sharp eye for these things, suspected anything when Jaemin took your bag without a word and slung it over his shoulder, carrying it for you.
You could feel it though. The way Jaemin’s touches lingered just a second longer than they used to. The way he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he whispered your name sometimes, like it was something he was still getting used to saying with affection and love.
You caught yourself looking for him. When he wasn’t home yet, you listened for the sound of the door unlocking, for his familiar voice calling out to you. You never used to notice it before, but now, your shared space felt off without him in it. And when he was home, you never questioned why it felt better.
One night, you slipped up. You were half-asleep, curled up against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you gently. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the warmth, or maybe it was just him, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.
"Don’t go. I'll be lonely without you."
Jaemin stilled. Then his arms tightened around you, his lips pressing on the top of you head. "I’m not going anywhere."
And that was how you lived—entangled in something unlabeled, something neither of you tried to question or define. He didn’t ask for more. You didn’t push him away.
Nana: You’re fine with getting new housemates, right?
You frowned at your phone. You asked him to get groceries, and he’s talking about getting housemates?
You: No.
Nana: Not even gonna ask who they are first?
You: Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no.
Nana: That’s unfair. You should at least meet them before deciding.
You: It’s my apartment. I get the final say.
Nana: you mean, OUR apartment.
You: I still get the final say.
Nana: What if I just bring them over for a quick dinner? No pressure, just introductions.
You: I don’t see how that changes anything.
Nana: You might change your mind.
You: I won’t.
Nana: …
Nana: So that’s a yes to dinner?
You sighed, already regretting your decision.
You: Fine. But it’s still a no.
Nana: Noted.
About an hour later, you heard the front door open and close, followed by the unmistakable sound of Jaemin kicking off his shoes. You looked up, expecting to see him with, what? Two guys? A couple of friends in need of a place to crash? Instead, Jaemin stood in the doorway, grinning like a kid who had just done something he wasn’t supposed to.
In his arms was a fluffy cat with wide, curious eyes. Another poked its head out of the bag slung across his chest. And at his feet, a third cat rubbed against his legs like it had already claimed him as its personal human.
You blinked. “Jaemin.”
“Yeah?” he asked, completely nonchalant as he set the cat in his arms down on the floor.
You gestured at the trio of kitties now sniffing around your apartment. “What the hell is this?”
Jaemin crouched to scratch behind the ears of the one that had been circling his ankles. “This,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “is Luna, Lucy, and Luke. Our new housemates.”
You stared at him. “Excuse me?”
Jaemin finally looked up, smiling at you in that sweet, boyish way that usually meant he had done something ridiculous but wanted you to let it slide. “They needed a home.”
“That’s not an answer.” You pointed accusingly at the one sitting on the couch now, making itself comfortable. “Jaemin, we never talked about getting a cat. Let alone three.”
“I know.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “But a senior from our department is graduating and she couldn't take them home with her. She was looking for someone who could adopt them, and I was only gonna get one but then she told me they’re siblings and have to stay together. And I just can’t leave them, can I?”
“So you thought bringing all three of them home was a good idea?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to that soft, coaxing tone he always used when he was trying to win you over. “You love cats.”
“That’s not the point.”
“They love you already,” he continued. “Look.”
You felt something nuzzle against your leg. Looking down, you saw Luna—Luke? Lucy? Whatever—purring up at you, their big round eyes full of innocence. Your heart softened, but you refused to let it show.
Jaemin noticed anyway. His smirk was triumphant. “Oh, they are sooo staying.”
You sighed heavily, pouting with your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I hate you.”
Jaemin laughed, leaning in to kiss your temple. “No, you don’t.” Then he hugged you from behind, squeezing you gently as he watched the cats now making themselves comfortable in their new home. “So, should we get them matching collars, or is that too much?”
Your last semester of college came too soon, slipping through your fingers like the pages of a book you weren’t ready to close. Life moved forward whether you were prepared or not, and with it, your friends were the first to step into their next chapters.
Karina and Giselle walked the stage that spring, struggling to keep their caps in place as they jumped into each other’s arms. Renjun beamed as he shook hands with professors, looking a little smug in his honors sash. Even Jaemin, who always brushed off big moments like these, cracked a self-satisfied smile when his name was called. You cheered for them, clapped until your hands hurt, and posed for pictures, but there was no denying the way it felt watching them leave while you stayed behind.
The halls of NCIT felt emptier without Karina’s complaints about deadlines and Giselle’s dramatic reenactments of campus drama. But Jaemin was still there. He hadn’t packed up and left like the others. While everyone else dove headfirst into their careers, he stayed, taking time off instead of immediately stepping into the expectations waiting for him outside college walls.
His days were spent taking care of you, spending time with you, helping you with homework, and piecing together his photography portfolio, and somehow, you became the centerpiece of it.
“Look at me.” Jaemin’s voice was soft but insistent as he crouched in front of you, camera in his hands.
You huffed, tearing your gaze away from the book you weren’t really reading. “I am looking at you.”
He clicked his tongue. “No, you’re glaring at me.”
“Because you’re being annoying,” you retorted. Jaemin grinned, completely unaffected.
“Let’s try that again,” he said. You sighed but gave in, letting your eyes meet the lens, expression softening just a little. He snapped the photo immediately, and from the way his face lit up, you could tell he got exactly what he wanted.
“Perfect,” he murmured, flipping the camera around to show you.
You tried not to let it get to you, but there was something about the way he saw you, how his lenses captured you as someone important, someone loved.
The cats were an extension of the both of you, curling up on Jaemin’s chest when he sprawled on the couch, purring on your legs when you stood in the kitchen. Jaemin spoiled them rotten—Luna got her favorite sunspot by the window all to herself, Lucy got head pats on demand, and Luke had claimed Jaemin’s lap as his personal throne.
“Traitor,” you had muttered once when Luke chose Jaemin over you.
“They just love me more,” Jaemin had teased, scratching behind Luke’s ears with a smirk.
This was how things had been between you two. Ever since that night, the night you crossed a line you could never uncross, nothing really changed yet somehow, everything had.
Jaemin never held back anymore. He was more affectionate, more attentive, like he wasn’t afraid of pushing too far. He called you baby like it was the most natural thing in the world, pulled you into his arms whenever he felt like it, and pressed kisses to your forehead without hesitation.
He worshipped you in the privacy of your apartment, uttered your name like it would hurt him not to do so, touched your skin like you were the most precious thing he had ever touched, ever kissed, and ever laid his eyes on. He loved you in and out, and you basked in his attention, his affection, and his unwavering loyalty.
Maybe you should have stopped it, maybe you should have told him to slow down, but the truth was, you liked it. You liked how easy it was, how warm it felt. You liked not having to question what you meant to him anymore.
And Jaemin never asked for more than what you could give. He let you take your time, let you figure it out in your own way. So you spent the rest of the semester like that, somewhere between best friends and something more.
When your turn to graduate finally arrived, they were all there—Karina, Giselle, Renjun, Ningning, everyone who had been with you through the years. They cheered for you just as loudly as you had for them, but it was Jaemin who stood out the most. He was impossible to miss, holding your bouquet like it was his accomplishment, snapping pictures as if he were paid to do it.
The ceremony was long, the speeches were boring, but it didn’t matter. You had done it.
It wasn’t until the reception that Karina’s eyes narrowed at Jaemin when he leaned over to fix your cap. “Baby, your tassel’s on the wrong side,” he murmured, adjusting it before you could react.
Karina gawked. “Did you just—? Did he just call you baby?”
Giselle nearly choked on her drink. Renjun gave you a slow, knowing smirk. You felt your stomach drop.
“What?” Jaemin blinked, completely unfazed. “I’ve been calling her that since earlier.”
“You have not,” Karina accused.
“Yes, he has,” Renjun said, crossing his arms. “You guys just don’t listen.”
Giselle let out a scandalized gasp. “Oh my god. Were you guys—? Since when?”
“I’m gonna get more food,” you blurted, grabbing Jaemin’s wrist and dragging him away before anyone could interrogate you further. He let you, chuckling under his breath.
Later that week, when the celebrations died down and you were finally hauled the last box of your stuff outside your apartment complex, you glanced back at NCIT right across the street and thought about the years you had spent in this place, all the moments that had led you here.
The late-night cramming sessions, the spontaneous road trips, the heartbreaks, and the reckless decisions. Every piece of your college life was shaped by the people who walked it with you.
Giselle, Karina, and Ningning, your constants through every breakdown and triumph, who saw you at your worst and never let you stay there for too long. They made the ordinary feel special, turned bad days into bearable ones, and stayed no matter how messy life got,
Renjun taught you friendship and admiration. You haven’t heard from Yangyang for a long time now, but you’d never forget his cheshire cat smile and how he taught you to live in the moment. Jeno taught you patience and the importance of putting yourself first. What you had with Donghyuck ended before it had the chance to properly begin, but the memories of your youth will always have him in it.
Love in the eyes of a college student was everything and anything. It was stupid, it was dumb. It was exhilarating, it was euphoric. It was slow, it was fast. It was damning, but also freeing. Such are the highs and lows of college romances. At the end of it all, you leave it all behind and move on with your life.
“Baby!” Jaemin’s voice cut through your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, smiling at the sight of him waving happily and beckoning you over to his car. “Time to go!”
You took one last look at the campus that had been your whole world for the past few years, exhaling softly. Then you walked toward him, toward the future.
Because some things, you take with you.
You walked toward him, fishing your phone from inside your pocket. Jaemin leaned in to peer at your screen. “What are you doing?”
“Sending one last entry to Campus Confessions.”
“Campus Confessions? NCIT's confessions page?”
“Yes.”
Jaemin gasped. “You send entries to CC?”
“I do, sometimes,” you replied, getting into the car.
“For whom?” he pressed, sitting on the driver's seat looking perplexed and surprised. “Did you just send a last minute confession to a crush or something?”
“Start driving. We're way behind schedule as it is.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but didn't argue. You smiled as you watched him seethe in his seat, driving the car away from the apartment complex.
SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.
PART I (you are here) | PART II
[AO3 link for easier reading! Though please do consider leaving your thoughts on here if you’d like! I’d appreciate it sm 🥹💖]
GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.
WORD COUNT: 18.3K out of 50K
CONTENT WARNINGS: afab!reader, a reader-insert but no ‘Y/N’ is used, MC's a little mean (blame it on the sleep deprivation), Mark has an unnamed girlfriend, Jeno's kind of an asshole (not on purpose) at first, mild slut-shaming, banter as forms of flirting/foreplay [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]
SMUT WARNINGS: Jeno has a big dick. fingering, squirting, doggy, unprotected sex (please practice safe-sex unlike these two), back-shots, aftercare.
NOTE: save me beatbox Jeno... s̸a̷v̷e̵ ̶̟̀m̸̞̐̇ë̴̠̟̤̆... everything is consensual btw! MC just looooves to deny and deny and deny because not only does Jeno put the 'D' in dick, he also puts the 'D' in denial <3 if i sound a little too in love it’s bc i am i love that man and i need him so bad 🧍🏻♀️
"You like your peace, but you love a little chaos." — Maze by Alina Baraz
"I want you to love like you hate me and fuck me so crazy, crazy." — Lava Lamp by Lolo Zouaï
I.
“When you first get a taste and your heart starts to race.”
Mark thought it would be best to part ways after living together for four years.
He was leaving you.
“I’m not leaving you,” Mark corrected. “I’m moving in with my girlfriend.”
“That does not make it any better!”
Mark Lee was leaving you.
Not as a side-piece. Not as his ‘actual’ girlfriend (gross!), but leaving you to fend for yourself as his best friend. Which, fine, perhaps you could have started with that and excluded your dramaticism, but no one could really blame the immediate distress when you were about to lose Golden Boy Mark Lee—golden in many ways such as being the perfect roommate (minus his awful cooking. He was a great haggling partner for cheap deals, though)—to domesticity.
The thought of throwing all that away in exchange for less would send anyone into a downward spiral, if you could consider your crazed search for the next best thing as that; treating it as if you had to gamble a huge chunk of your life for the sake of retaining that same level of comfort and ease you got from Mark.
The only catch was, you had no fucking idea what it meant to gamble. Neither in the literal, nor in the figurative sense.
Which should have been telling considering that you had never, not even once, thought of exchanging a portion of your paycheck for chips you knew you’d immediately lose the second the lack of knowledge and experience showed on your losing set of cards. The closest comparable scenario you could think of was accompanying your grandmother to Mahjong Sundays with her friends, but even then, keeping up with the rules was rather difficult for a kid who only knew toys and the air time of her favorite cartoon.
Granny’s friends and Granny herself hadn’t bothered with explaining it to you either, being far too invested with their acrylic tiles. What you did learn, though, was how agitating the sounds were when they hit together. It just about evoked such a raw feeling of irritation a seven year old could go through. The messy aftermath of snot and tears did it for Granny that she made sure to ask if you’d let her drag you along.
In short: no gambling experience, yet going in full-on with that mindset equated a recipe for a shitty disaster just waiting to implode on itself.
Still, you liked to think that you had played your cards right during the whole selection process.
Details of each possible candidate were carefully written down—color-coded, bullet points, foot-notes. Some probable pet peeves highlighted to be raised for another round of deliberation—thanks to the extensive background checks you had done on your own accord, then later checked by Mark pushed by your unrelenting insistence. A second opinion would help narrow down your choices and who better to fill that role other than your own roommate?
Well, ex-roommate since—again—Mark had succumbed to the clutches of domestic bliss.
And it’s not like it couldn’t be seen from miles away. Everyone and their mothers knew Mark’s intentions right when he had brought home a shih tzu—a dog he and his girlfriend decided to co-parent despite living separately—to look after while Mark’s other half went away for a work trip. Really, anyone could tell that he was itching to start anew under the same roof with his girlfriend, but you didn't expect it to be that day to be so soon.
Who was going to play as your budget therapist now?
If there was anyone out there who knew how exhausting being in healthcare was, it was Mark. He understood the grievances that came with being a nurse and he was always there to lend an ear until you felt less burdened by the frustrations you had carried throughout a demanding shift. It was like an inborn skill he had, finding it in himself to simply know what to say and how to bring you back down.
No one could ever replace Mark. Your co-worker. Ex-roommate. Your best friend and now that he was off to start a new chapter in his life, in love as he could ever be, this called for new coping mechanisms, and a new roommate because there was no way in hell you were going to pay in full when you had other expenses already making a sizeable dent in your next paycheck. Making it bigger was not an option you would risk.
That was another reason why you insisted on the in-depth research amounting to almost a month’s worth of what was essentially the text-book definition of stalking.
From: [email protected]
Subject the roommate games
Attached: tributes_lol.doc
Don’t you think you’re being a little too nit-picky with all this? When did being a Leo become a deal breaker for you haha. Like people can’t change their birthdays and do I need to remind you that I’m a Leo? We’ve managed to not kill each other over the years. There’s also Jaemin? Dejun? Who are also Leos? Who are also our close friends? What is your problem with Leos? I thought Geminis were the worst?
To: [email protected]
Subject: the roommate games
Attached: tributes_lol_FINAL.doc
yes, and?? THREE Leos are enough i don’t need more! in my defense i made the worst mistake of becoming emotionally attached to you guys except Jaemin (and Hyuck by association) forced friendship onto me if u remember. he’s like a stray cat that wont leave me alone.
Which means your selection was ASS!!!!!! i dont like ANY of them. One has a criminal record of insurance fraud and the other is weird as FUCK dude like who cradles and pets their fucking goldfish like its a cat?how bout this, do u personally know anyone in need of a place? LIKE someone at least 70% normal
Radio silence. Almost five hours of it and sitting in front of your laptop refreshing the shit out of your inbox as if that would do anything seemed like the worst possible choice of action when aiming for a productive afternoon.
By the time you heard from Mark again, golden light illuminated the living area that you had to squint, picking up your phone to read his text messages.
Mark (ER): I found someone
Mark (ER): remember Jeno Lee?
You: no lol
Mark (ER): lol
Mark (ER): tall, muscular and kind of a hermit?
You: ur not really giving me much to work with
You: for all i know jaem legally changed his name to jeno for some reason
Mark (ER): he’s nicer than Jaemin
You: 😟
You: one of hyuck and jaem’s friends i assume?
Mark (ER): correct
Mark (ER): he’s looking for a place
Mark (ER): and he’s likely the 70% normal to your 30% normal 😁
You: wait what’s my 70% then?
Mark (ER): insane
You: die
“His lease is ending soon too.” Mark brought up a few days later in the middle helping him pack up for the great move, and it was nice out too. Not too cold, not too hot—really, just a nice day out with the perfect temperature accompanied by an occasional breeze, and yet Mark chose this day to pack up his life, enlisting your help when you could be doing something else that didn’t remind you of the impending loneliness that was about to come.
Even the outside wasn’t safe from the beginnings of grief.
The outside, a picturesque view of the city’s greens gradually bleeding into the many shades of fall framed by the large window, became the very subject of your mournful eyes.
Brooding became your default state, whereas Mark carried on plucking his vinyl records, a small collection of novelty trinkets from your joint travels and the handful of thick textbooks from nursing school he refused to throw out. I might need them at some point, y’know. He once told you after catching your eyebrows raised in question. Just because we graduated doesn’t mean we magically know everything and Mark was mostly right about these things.
You were going to miss Mark being mostly right about these things. Whether it would be over something trivial, or medical related, he just was. Always a step ahead of you in many cases.
Summer was at its peak when Mark had sat you down to tell you of his plans, the sun harsh with its light and adding on to the steady increase in temperature. He decided to push through once the summer heat dissipated completely in anticipation of a chilly fall, and just like how the seasons came and went, watching Mark stow away bits and pieces of himself into the boxes was an inevitable change you had to accept.
The loud scratch of the packaging tape made him wince as you sealed the box. “Who?”
“Jeno,” He repeated, reminding you of Donghyuck and Jaemin’s elusive, so-and-so friend as he took the tape from you with a pointed stare. “y’know, your new roomie?”
“I haven’t even said yes.”
“Trust me, you will.” Mark looked very sure of his claim, too. “Anyways—” he waved towards the air “—said something about his lease ending in a few weeks or so? He wanted somewhere close to work and our complex is like, real close to his office. A win on both sides?”
At least it wasn’t just you benefiting from the change.
“Right. How the hell am I gonna get to work without your car now?”
“That’s all you can say?”
“Hm, no,” you said, turning to face Mark with a straight face. “Do you think I could bribe Jeno into driving me to work?”
Mark huffed, “you’re stupid.”
“You’re stupid,” you cried, doing an awful job of keeping the waterworks from overflowing with frustrated swipes to your face. “This is so stupid—I’m stupid—God, you only live like thirty minutes away.”
Mark, ever the one to find his friends endearing even in the most undignified of conditions, let out a fond coo while gathering you up in his arms in a tight squeeze. “I’m gonna miss your morning arguments with the coffee machine too.”
The dig was met with a thwack on the arm.
Wherever Mark went, you followed. Only because he was literally your ride to and from work and how convenient it was that you both worked at the same private hospital. He was the type to simply offer a ride when you obviously needed it. For years, it had been like that.
Now, Mark stayed behind. Where he belonged, leaving him in the care of his girlfriend practically absorbing his oozing joy as they both coddled her—their dog, Ziggy, just outside of their apartment complex. The couple were completely lost in one another, inadvertently forgetting the piles of boxes in Mark’s car that had to be brought up sooner or later. They had all the time in the world anyway and it was understandable that Mark would want to simply bask in the moment with the one person that made every waking day worth it.
And leaving them behind to catch the next bus was a bittersweet pinch to your heart.
Mark was off to unfold the next chapter of his life, and here you were still, stuck in an endless cycle, wondering if you’d ever get to start on a new chapter of yours, too.
Jeno Lee hadn't exactly matched whom you pictured in your head.
When there was Jaemin and Donghyuck, it was kind of an unspoken rule that your one-way ticket to the nearest psychiatric ward was to be willingly associated with the likes of them.
Years of dealing with their joint efforts of embodying the human version of a headache, you kind of knew how to deal with whatever Jeno could potentially have in store for you. Jaemin and Donghyuck got along like a house on fire when the weather was fair, or when the planets aligned by some convoluted space related jargon Jisung would happily indulge any of you with. On any other day, they simply could not stand each other, wanting nothing to do with the other and arguing for the sake of arguing.
Still, they were the best of friends and having their differences was simply unavoidable, yet the many similarities they shared became a sturdy foundation for their friendship to last a long time.
Being unapologetically insane was one of them.
One’s involvement automatically entailed that they were just as deranged to some degree, and seeing the elusive piece to the trio you weren’t even aware was a trio, Jeno Lee—in the flesh—with a smile so sweet and unassuming gave you an earth-shattering wake-up call and reminder that you probably shouldn’t solely rely on baseless assumptions, especially when it came to people. Insane friends aside.
Other than that, you didn’t think a man with a face and body carefully sculpted by marble and brought to life by the gods themselves would be up to some milder version of fuckery like they were, now that Jeno thought to introduce himself.
The apartment felt staggeringly bigger than what you were used to with the absence of what made it belong to Mark too, though Jeno did a swell enough job to fill in the empty spaces with his presence alone.
It was brief. The meeting with the potential roommate, but nothing short of nerve-wracking when the man had the vibe of a quintessential supermodel top modeling agencies would fight tooth and nail for, decked in athleisure that had shown how he was built to all hell. A hundred-eighty-something centimeters of lean muscle cut with precision; clearly the fruit of Jeno’s possibly strict lifestyle, quietly taking everything in with a sense of wonder, yet simultaneously staying attentive as you ran your mouth about the apartment’s features and how sharing possible expenses would work.
You know, the vital stuff you’d want to know when it involved sharing your space with another person.
Which raised a few questions from Jeno himself. Little things along the lines of how often trash would be collected? If the apartment complex had a laundry room and if not, was there a laundromat by at least walking distance? How about a convenience store? A gym closer than his current one? These were answered fairly quickly, from which Jeno seemed pleased when his eyes turned into little half moons when he smiled, bringing your attention to the beauty mark under his right eye. God, was it adorable and frankly, you still couldn’t believe he chose to associate with two of the most annoying people you knew.
It was cute. Jeno Lee was cute, but among everything he had going on—your wandering eyes greatly appreciated the free viewing—his voice was what stuck out to you the most with how gentle he had spoken.
A voice deep and rumbly, yet warmth coated each syllable rattling the beating palm-sized thing in your chest the more the carefully articulated sentences passed through Jeno’s naturally pouted lips. He talked like he was trying to get into your good graces; like talking in any other way would risk disrupting the pleasant ambience set in stone before Jeno’s visit, which wasn’t at all necessary when Mark practically sang his praises.
And Jeno was all Mark talked about post-moving out.
Seriously, if he hadn’t chosen the medical path like you had, Mark Lee would have made a mean sales rep. You even felt the need to stop him and ask if he was still talking about a human being and not a brand new car right after he had his fill of listing down exactly why you should take Jeno in. How he essentially met all your admittedly nit-picky roommate requirements.
Mild-temperament. What was he, a dog? Jeno was neat and tidy. Claimed that he couldn't function if measly things such as a coaster was askew. Oh good. A neat freak just like me. There were also a few pages of referrals Mark had shown—yes, printed—from previous landlords and roommates because that was a thing, apparently. Squeaky clean criminal record (with a cute face like that, it didn’t come as a surprise). Worked in tech. In the same income bracket as you.
A Taurus man.
Which shouldn’t have given you that much of a start, really. You haven’t had much experience dealing with any Taurus people—a Taurus man, no less, so this would be decidedly new.
He is reliable, persistent, and down-to-earth, with a strong sense of duty and an admirable work ethic; the kind of guy you can always count on in both your personal and professional life. He is not one to make waves or cause drama; he just wants to do his job and go home at the end of the day. A Taurus man is all about practicality, stability, and security.
He wants nothing more than to provide the protection of his loved ones and create a harmonious home life.
At least that was what the article wrote (ignoring the in-your-face romantic tone. You were looking for a roommate, not a husband), sent by an astrology-fixated Donghyuck who seemed a little too eager providing his insight when asked for his opinion on Jeno and Taurus people in general being acquainted with you.
“A little stability won’t hurt. It’ll be good for you,” Donghyuck had mentioned over the phone after grilling you and your astrological sign, antagonizing you for no reason. It went mostly ignored though, preoccupied with reading a case you were assisting with Dr. Kim tomorrow. “and nothing screams stability more than Jeno’s credit score.”
An excellent credit score, from what Mark had relayed over cheap Chinese takeout and never would you have thought you’d cream your pants from that information, yet here you were. Financial stability was a viable trait you’d consider looking for in someone, so the decision was a no-brainer.
“Oh, before I go.”
You swallowed something down like a scream when Jeno whirled around to face you while digging into his gym bag.
“Mark probably gave you the rundown about me but—” a folded piece of paper was produced from within the depths of his bag, having you blinking owlishly when he wriggled it for you to take.
Jeno’s palm was warm under the gentle brush of your fingers as you plucked it from his own set, pointedly ignoring the zing that jolted through you.
Arial. Font size twelve. Single spaced and justified, and it wrote what Mark had been yapping about all this time prior to having Jeno in the apartment. His MBTI, a rundown of his personality with all his quirks and habits included (you snorted rather loudly when catching the italicized ‘mild-temperament’). There was his daily routine that heavily emphasized his recreation time such as cycling, working out, gaming and a small pool of sports. His likes and dislikes, and making you laugh the loudest was his disclaimer, something Jeno was rather proud of when you caught his pleased smile.
Disclaimer: Homebody, but will go out with you if you ask nicely. I get lost in gaming a lot so you might have to knock very loudly, or even call my phone. I get sulky very easily. Please be nice to me (.◜◡◝)
The emoticon was just the cherry on top. It looked so much like him—an absolutely precious detail that you had to do a side-by-side comparison, only to find him already gazing at you in wonder.
He cleared his throat, smiling and cheeks glowing with the faintest of color. “I figured you’d want a detailed resumé. He said you’d appreciate it.” Jeno joked with the smile widening into a soft grin that showcased his perfect white teeth, long fingers raking through his dark blue hair, both in a manner that screamed boyish and charming.
He was charming, which came as a belated, mortifying realization. Nano seconds was all it took to picture life sharing everything with a cute-faced gym rat and his equally cute grin you’d have to face every single waking day for fuck knows how long until you went insane.
It could either be the best or the worst thing to come out of this. You’re not sure yet.
Though it’s as if Jeno sensed your mental turmoil because he didn’t even give you a second to rethink, leaning in close enough that you got a whiff of his cologne as he poked a particular spot on the paper a few times, grin dimming into something gentler where his eyes gained this puppy-ish quality to them followed by a head tilt.
“My number is on here,” he stressed with one last poke to his number, ducking his head low enough to catch your gaze. “Call or text me if I make the cut, yeah?”
And as the door shut behind Jeno after flashing you one last dazzling smile, you slumped against the wall with a harsh sigh, mind racing and heart about to fly out of your rib cage with the paper still clutched tightly in between your fingers.
Jesus.
You: I think I just saw a god
Mark (ER): lol? 😆
Mark (ER): how was it with Jeno
You: i literally just said i think i saw a god
Approximately three hours later, you’ve earned yourself a Mark replacement, much to the namesake’s chagrin and stealing a piece of your chicken tenders as a form of retribution.
Approximately a week and half later, Jeno hung his degree and graduation portrait next to yours right above the TV, a detail both of you found hilarious and continued to giggle over even after clearing two greasy boxes of pizza for your first dinner together as roommates.
Approximately two months or so later, Jeno had unknowingly made an enemy for himself:
You.
II.
“When you go out your way and you don’t see a change.”
Frankly, being in this sticky situation could have been avoided entirely if you hadn’t let Mark’s flattery towards your roommate lure you into a false sense of security.
Frequent reassurance was an absolute necessity.
It was good to just know about things and your ex-roommate had made Jeno sound promising the handful of times your conversation would segue to him. It was your own hubris in Mark’s reassurance that had led you to this—that, and Mark had perfected the art of persuasion with words.
He’d always been good at spinning the narrative for his own advantage (Jeno’s in this case). Too good, in fact, where everything that flew past his mouth left no room for worry to fester when you’ve not yet lost anything of significance from trusting Mark and his judgment.
That was until you did. Blindsided by soft grins, half-moon eyes and a killer body you’d catch yourself quietly admiring whenever Jeno, oddly enough, took to working out in the living area.
So in conclusion, this was all Mark’s fault.
“This is all your fault.”
“Yo, what?” Mark laughed in that way where you just knew that he knew he fucked up. Forced, awkward, and a little terrified of what was about to come. “What’d I do?” He asked anyway, knowing he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without finding out just what he did to get accused.
“You shouldn’t have pimped Jeno out to me—“
Mark rolled his eyes. “Not what I did—“
“Pimped Jeno out to me, ‘else I wouldn’t be suffering this much.”
“Hold on—you asked me to help look for a roommate,” he started, voice pitching up in disbelief. “And I spent days helping you sort out every important detail—even the nit-picky ones—for you! Only to ask for someone who wasn’t even listed on the fuckin’ doc. And in the end, you said yes!"
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. Clearly a mistake on my part."
As he ranted, Mark’s gestures grew more and more frantic in defense of himself, only for his arms to fall back to his sides with a huff when you barely blinked, unimpressed, and then folding them above his chest with a pout before mumbling, “how’d you even find out about the criminal record and the weird fish owner anyway?”
You graced him with a lazy shrug. “Fascinating what you can achieve with technology.”
He stilled, squinting in thought before letting out a resigned sigh. “Donghyuck.”
“Duh? The closest I got to hacking was looking for a cracked Sims 2 copy.” You soon got grounded by Dad when you had infected the family computer with malware, sadly. “Hyuck’s surprisingly useful when wants to be.”
Or greedy. Ten dollars were raised once you goaded Donghyuck into sussing out any deal-breakers with a snide comment or two slipping out about him not being able to find anything that would make you second guess any of the potential roommates. Naturally, Donghyuck took your provocation rather seriously, treating it as the be-all and end-all to prove a point.
Ten minutes later, he was ten dollars richer. Crazy what people would do for money.
“Conflict of interest!” you raised again, loudly, making Mark flinch. “I barely get six hours of sleep now because of your emotional ties with my sworn enemy.”
Sure there were many benefits of being approachable, but you were somewhat of a negative Nancy and all you could think of was how Mark’s painstaking kindness could potentially get taken advantage of by some lurking asshole out there.
Which was exactly what had happened. With you as collateral.
“Uh, not gonna lie, but I think you’re being a little dramatic,” he sniffed, biting roughly into the sandwich you graciously made for him. Biting the hands that fed him, how lovely.
“I’m being dramatic?” you said, incredulous, and then flicked his forehead just to hear him cry out in pain. “Okay—try having Jeno’s headboard slamming against the wall as your lullaby, which—surprise, surprise—won’t help you sleep at all!”
You paused to regulate your breathing because you were getting a little too heated and you didn’t want to traumatize Mark even more by angrily exploding into pieces. Even as a nurse and though rare, he still got a little squeamish.
“I’m just saying, you’d think he’d have some shame and invest in those rubber bumpers, but no—he just had to make sure I know he’s getting way more sex than me.”
And he did. Have way more sex than you, that is, which was kind of insane now that you’ve thought about it. Ego-bruising too when the sounds you desperately tried to drown out still breached through a pair of neon green earplugs stuck deep as they could go into your ear holes. His questionable refractory period kept you up on most nights he had girls over, wondering how short it was that he’s able to bounce back and keep you up until the witching hour with the awful remix of moans, groans, screams and whatever noises one could make during sex. Why was it always the innocent looking ones the freakiest? Why must you suffer through all this?
You made a low noise in your throat, almost like a growl just thinking about what you've gone through the last few weeks. Fucking asshole.
Mark’s eyes widened. Whether it was from your admission, or the almost inhuman sound you made, the simmering rage wasn’t that hard to miss. The moment Mark walked into the apartment, he could visibly tell how wound up you were from your pinched expression while you waited for the bread to toast.
He’s been here for almost two hours and you have yet to relax. Mark’s current concern was what if your face gets permanently stuck scowling like that?
“Huh,” he breathed out, “didn’t know Jeno got bitches that often.”
“Mark.”
Mark immediately backtracked at the edge to your voice. “Uh, I mean—“ he cleared his throat, “fuck Jeno. I hope his dick, like, falls off.”
The beseeching shine of his eyes for your approval would have been something to laugh at if it weren’t for the anger taking full reign of the receptors responsible for regulating your emotions, not letting it process anything but the bottled up frustration from weeks of enduring the extra noises accompanying most of your nights.
So much for creating a harmonious home life with a Taurus man. Fuck that article, fuck whoever wrote it, and fuck Jeno Lee in particular. Seriously.
“You’re more pissed off than usual.”
“Yeah? Hadn’t noticed,” you said dryly.
“Dude, c’mon. Y’know what I mean,” Mark giggled, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away with a whine when he tried to go for the other. “Sorry, sorry—just—I feel like he did more if you—“ he made a vague gesture to the air in front of you “—are this upset.”
“I think keeping me up with the horrendously loud fucking takes the cake.”
“I dunno. You lost your fuckin’ marbles when I ate your food that one time.” He shuddered, knowing fully well how touchy you were with the prepped meals you slaved for hours every Saturday. “Was that what he did? That’s the one thing I told him not to do.”
Being this far into your career, cooking was almost like a chore since you barely had any opportunities to cook actual at-home-meals that required significant amounts of time and patience. You could even say that it was more appropriate to call it a luxury almost as most of your time was dedicated to the hospital—to your patients whose lives were also in your hands, and pre-made food was the only solution to fit three-meals-a-day into your demanding schedule.
The long-lasting effects of when he, out of sheer desperation, snatched your jar of banana chia pudding still lingered when he always made it a point to ask if he could have one bite, or a quick sip after the rather traumatizing verbal lashing you’ve subjected him to.
“No. Jeno knows not to do that at least.”
Like Mark, it’s the one thing you had stressed right when you had Jeno settle in. Not that he minded, sans the obligatory head tilt when he didn’t quite get it until your further explanation. He even offered his help with the meal-prep which kind of—for a fleeting moment—made you feel a little guilty thinking back to the conversation (puppy eyes, full lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. More puppy eyes and Jeno’s weird, trademarked noises of confusion) until you were violently reminded of his fuckery.
Perhaps the whole golden retriever-like temperament and attentiveness balanced out his newly discovered predilection for whoring himself out.
Mark heaved a heavy sigh as if he was the one with a 24/7 sex noise problem. “Well, what could be worse than Jeno banging some random chick?”
You gave him a grim smile.
See, the thing was, it hadn’t always been like this.
You were no stranger to peace as you did get a generous taste of it with Jeno thrown into the mix. A peaceful coexistence between a surgical nurse and some tech guy.
A routine had been built around having different work hours where you were mostly gone from morning to evening when you weren’t on-call, while Jeno was, more often than not, stationary since he had the choice to either work from home on his elaborate PC set-up, or in the office he’d drive to when needed.
It was relatively normal. Jeno stayed true to the being neat claim and he kept to himself most of the time. He did his set of chores listed on the mini whiteboard stuck to the fridge and proved himself to be quite the efficient handyman also; assembling furniture with ease as well as fixing up superficial problems in the apartment. He was a decent cook too and Jeno generally acted what one would expect from a proper roommate who was here to make a home with you.
It had been normal. It had been peaceful, until you realized you were housing a potential sex fiend. What made this whole thing exponentially worse, though, was that the last girl he had brought home wasn't just some random chick that had fallen victim to Jeno’s charms.
It was Jimin Yu, your work best friend and the only other person who knew of your sleeping problem caused by the root of said problem whom you were starting to believe was sent to you as a divine punishment for fuck knows what. Which was kind of funny to think about considering Mark, his faith and him technically being the catalyst of it all, but you digressed. This was literally a slow-burn epidemic happening in real life, and yet no one else seemed to be alarmed by it.
Jimin Yu. Another promising young woman lost to some fucking loser (see: Jeno). Again.
How you came to find out that it was your best friend getting her back blown out six ways to fucking Sunday right before a full day of two major operations waiting for you to scrub and assist in was from pure accidental intuition alone.
And anger.
Especially anger.
There was a self-imposed rule you strictly followed: do not leave your room until you were sure the chosen girl from Jeno’s seemingly never-ending roster left. Saving both you and the poor girl from the embarrassment was the least you could do when you yourself would rather avoid any risks of running into anyone in someone else’s home right after a hook-up.
And, well, there was a reason why the saying ‘rules are meant to be broken’ was popularized, because you broke that one simple rule that had supposedly kept your remaining sanity intact.
Two hours left before your shift started and you were more husk than person from the lack of sleep. All rationale completely consumed by anger, an ever-present emotion that seemed to be the only thing that kept you going—and consequently, what had led you to shoot out of bed once the telltale sounds of Jeno’s door clicking open, followed by the hurried footsteps reached your ears.
You skidded to a stop, stunned.
“You motherfucker.”
This was the ultimate act of betrayal.
“It’s—It’s not what it looks like!” Was Jimin’s immediate defense right when the thunderous twist to your face grew more and more pronounced with each stomp of your feet. Yet her words didn’t exactly help her case when:
There were obvious splashes of reds, blues and purples marking her slender neck.
Her hair was a downright mess, and you knew Jimin harbored some sort of complex for her long luscious locks, so this was new—her not bothering to comb it out, clearly in a rush to leave.
There was a slight limp in her step which just said everything.
And lastly, you caught Jeno sneaking Jimin out of his room and out of the fucking apartment, clearly expecting to not run into you.
“Ah-ah. No,” you interrupted before she could even start groveling. “I’ll deal with you later. Get out.”
Jimin’s shoulders sagged, big wet eyes staring into your very soul and it took you a Herculean amount of strength to keep your gaze ahead and not break under her stare; to keep your gaze set on the main perpetrator who, unlike Jimin, appeared rather contrary to her apparent distress.
Jeno stood underneath the awning in only—goodness—only a pair of gym shorts where you could clearly make out a hefty looking dick-print, completely at ease and infuriatingly handsome in spite of the disheveled state he was in; matching bruises bloomed on his milky skin, scratches littered his arms, shoulders and back and his hair was left as an artful mess atop his head.
You wanted to scream.
This was all Jeno’s fault. Not even the hurt pinching Jimin’s normally serene features was enough to lessen the tension wounding up your entire body. Not when you were already neck-deep in your own pool of unfiltered rage to even consider comforting Jimin’s momentary lapse in judgment and decision to have earth-shatteringly loud sex with your mortal enemy that the whole damn apartment complex might as well have heard.
(“I’m surprised Jimin isn’t getting as much heat since she slept with your ‘problem’. On purpose.”
You shrugged. “Men are the root of all evil.”
“Fair enough,” Mark mumbled and took a gargantuan bite of the next sandwich assembled for him. It was really a mystery how he settled down before you).
And—look, you really couldn’t care less if Jeno slept around. It was his life and he had free reign over his own body, and let’s face it, there was no way he didn’t get an obscene amount of matches on Tinder when he embodied a walking wet dream.
Jeno was far from being in your good graces at this current moment, but staying blind to the truth would only get you so far when Jeno had the physical advantages to attest to that, and the same could be said for Jimin. She could hook-up with whoever she pleased—just as easily too. Hell, you’d sleep with her too if you were a little bit interested in her—because who were you to disprove her choices? All of you were adults here, but what the main issue here was Jimin knew you had one-sided beef with your abnormally attractive roommate that fucks too loud no matter how many times you reminded him to try and keep it down, and yet she still pushed on and contributed to the recurring problem.
Truer words had never been said until Mark. You really did hope Jeno’s dick shrivels up and falls off.
Now, preferably.
Right when the door had closed behind Jimin with a soft click (after dragging her feet and sending pleading looks over her shoulder like a sad wet cat) did all the pent-up anger come out in a mess of heated words and frantic gestures.
“What the fuck.”
Each breath you took had been deep and harsh. Your face was bordering on hot to the touch from the sheer amount of rage coursing through your veins and the arduous task of resisting the urge to reach out and subject permanent damage physically, mentally and emotionally by how tightly you had clenched your fists. You could already imagine it, hands stretching towards Jeno’s neck and wringing it like a wet hand towel until it ripped in your hands—
Your roommate reacted then, as if just realizing that this wasn’t you doing a bit. It made you think of how likely it could be that Jeno got away with many things simply for being the very few that had pretty privilege as a crutch to fall onto. As for you, it would be nice to have an actual metal crutch within arm’s reach to hit him with.
He was pretty to look at, sure, but not privileged enough to keep your eye from twitching in irritation when Jeno looked the least bothered by your display, long eyelashes fluttering with each of his confused and owlish blinking.
“What?” Jeno, the village idiot, asked with imploring eyes.
“What? What do you mean ‘what’? are you—“ you cut yourself off with an incredulous, borderline manic laugh at his testosterone-filled audacity. “Are you so desperate for sex that you had to go for Jimin?”
It’s not like he wasn’t allowed to bring his own friends over since you shared the same rotation of friends and acquaintances, but really, Jimin?
“I didn’t know Jimin was off-limits. You never mentioned it.” Jeno blinked slowly with a sheepish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time?”
“Are you fucking—were you even listening to me? Not just now, but before too. I told you to keep it down! Many many times! I need to sleep, Jeno!”
He huffed a laugh. “Technically, it’s not really my fault if they can’t keep it down, y’know?”
You could only stare in disbelief, mouth ajar at the fact that he’s able to act proud during an argument he was likely to lose. Like dicking down someone so loud that it became a public disturbance was some kind of achievement with the way Jeno puffs out his very naked chest in the most subtlest of ways.
He wasn’t finished talking, taking your silence as a prompt to continue with a cloying curl of his mouth. “I could show you why, if you want.”
“Excuse me?”
If Jeno knew what was good for him, he would stop running his mouth right this very second. Though over time, you started to pick up on the very unfortunate fact that he lacked tact at times, and what he had let slip through his lips next proved as much.
“I’m saying,” he dragged out, like he was expecting you to catch on. “Sex reduces stress, right? The endorphin and oxytocin rush—I’ll assume you already knew that, being a nurse and all. Woman in STEM,” Jeno sang a little jingle, the smile widening into a grin that was a touch too suggestive for your liking. “I can see that you’re pent up, and I think fucking it out of you—fucking the uptightness out of you would do both of us good. A win-win situation.”
Whatever was left of the rose-tinted image of the man who had first walked into the apartment donning the sweetest eye-smile you had ever laid eyes on was wiped just like that. His grin that was meant to convey light-hearted teasing became the very image of mockery.
If you weren’t as furious then, you were now.
“Is that how you see me? Just another number to your body count?”
It would have been funny, watching Jeno’s features twist from surprise to regret at the speed of light almost, but anything he did beyond this point just added to the stockpiled annoyance ready to be spit up again the next time Jeno thought to push his luck. So no, this wasn’t hilarious in the slightest.
“I didn’t say that—”
“You implied it.”
“That’s—I was joking!”
You scoffed, “that’s not surprising. Do you think my job’s a ‘joke’ too?”
This was exhausting. You had already lost a significant amount of sleep you needed to get through work that would start in two hours—well, less now that you’ve taken the time to completely go off the rails until some semblance of remorse showed on Jeno’s person. As satisfying as it was to witness that happen in real-time, asking some time off of work just to process The Confrontation™ was a no-no, given how important your presence was in the OR and it just so happened that you couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.
He should’ve added ‘insatiable horndog’ to his disclaimer.
Jeno made it clear that he had nothing else to follow up on, doing a horrible impression of a fish out of water that you had taken as your cue to leave.
And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to breathe in the antiseptic smell of the hospital.
Being this bothered by your cold indifference was not at all on Jeno’s bingo card.
Jeno was within your visage when you came through the door, yet you paid him no mind as you bee-lined towards your bedroom, like he didn’t exist to you. And, okay, maybe he did deserve that—no, he for sure deserved that after hours of reflecting. He wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate his excuse of not really being aware that the walls were thinner than he had thought.
Jeno winced at the mini play-by-play in his head.
You definitely wouldn’t.
The clock droned on and on with its never-ending ticking. Just a quarter past eight in the evening, Jeno checked, and his heart lurched to his throat, sitting up straighter from his perch at the island counter when you finally emerged from your room. Have you forgiven him? Did this mean you were on talking terms again? Because if he had to be honest, being ignored was a lot worse than you threatening to bite his head off. At least then you were technically talking to him still and not trying to erase his existence with sheer willpower alone.
All hope of making things right, however, was shot down the moment Jeno took a quick look at your change of clothes and the large duffle bag slung over your shoulder.
Panic welled in his chest, causing him to blurt out a garbled, “where are you going?” as you headed straight for the front door.
“Anywhere but here.”
Although there was no heat behind your words from the absence of the anger you had toted around this morning, being hit by your impassive stare has him biting back the haha nice Harry Potter reference. The poorly-timed joke from this morning was the final nail in the coffin and making another one now was a sure-fire way of getting buried six feet under. Alive.
Shortly after, the door closed behind you with a soft click. Much like how Jimin left when you had sent her out, leaving Jeno alone with the deafening silence as his only companion, the pit in his stomach growing when he peeled his gaze from the paneled door to fall onto the pair of steaming cups of coffee.
Mornings for Jeno started with you standing in front of the coffee machine, half-asleep and grumbling threats to the inanimate thing. He’d grown accustomed to the sight of your sleep-ruffled state that it was obvious you had quite the fixation on coffee. At least one cup a day, three at most, you had said with a bashful smile when he caught you pouring your third cup.
Coffee was a necessity in this household. Jeno knew that, knew how you liked to drink yours and he thought making you a cup exactly how you’d like it could melt away the thick walls you had built. A peace offering, or what was supposed to be a peace offering.
Two cups sat on the quartz countertop. One almost empty while the other remained untouched even as Jeno retired for the night.
Jeno walked into an empty kitchen the morning after.
A kitchen devoid of your sleepy form that would be threatening the coffee machine to spit out the liquid bitterness faster, or else. The silence was just as deafening and the cup—your cup—was where he left it the night before in hopes of you coming back home.
You didn’t.
Fuck.
III.
“Prove me wrong by doing it right.”
“And you stayed where? For two weeks?”
“Jaem and Hyuck’s.”
Mark grimaced. “Willingly?”
You gave him a pointed look.
He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sayin’ you have better options—like Sungchan?” Your face softened, offering a lazy shrug. “Me?”
You wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Yeah, no.”
While you had made plenty of jokes that would last a lifetime consisting of moving in with Mark and ‘the love of his life’, ranging from them becoming your second set of parents, to you being Just There with your best friend married and with kids, the appeal of third wheeling hadn’t increased in the slightest.
“I’ve had enough moaning and groaning haunting my dreams, thanks.” You snorted at the scandalized look on Mark’s face. “and I wouldn’t want to impose on Sungchan and Chenle. Thing One and Thing Two weren’t too bad.”
Although the stay had been surprisingly pleasant, with all things considered, they did poke fun at the situation at first because—duh, men. Regardless, their combined hospitality staved off the possibility of a psychotic break triggered by Jeno’s fuck-up. It would have been better if their third bedroom hadn’t been made into Marie Kondo’s personal nightmare, but the vomit green couch had been a comfortable makeshift bed. Who knew you’d end up loving the product of Jaemin’s horrendous tastes?
Jeno stayed as elusive as ever, too. You came home when you could, only to replenish your clothing and other necessities and much to your relief, you hadn’t run into him yet. Not at the apartment, not at the guys’ place (shockingly) and there was a brief moment where you thought your roommate might turn up at the hospital, what with the onslaught of texts you received, most of them apologizing and begging for you to come home, there was a time where you dreaded going to work in light of the possibility.
(“You’d think Jeno was your boyfriend with the way he’s blowing up your phone,” Donghyuck hollered from the kitchen, in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone. “He’s getting desperate with each text, babe. Even I’m feeling a little sorry for the guy.”
You looked up from the puzzle you were working on the floor with Jaemin to stare at Donghyuck, then to the space where you remembered leaving your phone on its own and now just noticing its disappearance. “How’d you get my phone? How’d you guess my passcode?”
“Zero-zero-zero-zero wasn’t that hard to guess,” Jaemin mumbled. “You’ve always been simpleminded about these things—which reminds me—you still use the same Netflix account since college, right?”).
Jeno was a no-show, thankfully. Causing a scene at work, of all places, would be way beneath you no matter how much he pissed you off.
Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t talk your shit from time to time.
“They’re probably faking it,” you concluded with a scoff and then quickly backtracked. “No. I know they’re faking it and it doesn’t even matter if Jeno’s tall, muscular, handsome, capable—” Mark’s eyebrows rose higher and higher, disappearing beneath his bangs as you continued on with your tangent.
“Precious eye smile—definitely a manipulation tactic… it worked on me.”
That one, you mumbled mostly to yourself, but it was audible enough to earn a short laugh from Mark which quickly snapped you out of whatever the hell that was, and then scowled when your ex-roommate, the catalyst for your suffering, tried to keep his face straight. He was doing a terrible job.
Clearing your throat—far too many times than necessary—you ignored the warmth that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks along with Mark’s insufferably knowing smirk. “My point is, there’s no way he’d be good at sex too. Like, you’re telling me Jeno made all those girls cum? Fat fucking chance. I’m sure there’s, like, a statistic disproving that.”
You didn’t even want to think what Jimin went through, especially when you’ve gotten a glimpse of what monster was begging to be freed from Jeno’s gym shorts. But like clockwork, Mark had to ruin that brief fantasy of you being right about Jeno’s possibly (hopefully) weak stroke game.
“Eh, I’d have to disagree on that one.”
How did he even know that?
“How do you even know that?” You groaned, “I’m distressed enough as it is, Mark, please be serious.”
“I am serious! I literally have the facts to back it up!”
“And what, I’m supposed to believe you?” All you were given was a stare, an arch of an eyebrow just begging to be plucked and shaped, and nothing else. “Fine, what are these facts based on?”
“Testimonies. Plenty of them.”
Your features twisted into that of disgust. “Were you there? In the corner watching him get his dick wet? Like some pervert?”
Mark appeared as though he regretted the decision of coming here. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, so it’s only fair that none of you were having a good time. Might as well make Mark your personal verbal punching bag while you were at it.
“Jesus,” he dragged a hand down his face. The perfect image of exasperation. “The mouth on you sometimes.”
“Sorry,” you quipped, not sorry at all.
This time, Mark let out a groan much similar to yours, obviously not liking where the direction of the already bizarre conversation was heading. This upcoming headache (see: you) was rightfully deserved though since Mark did lend a hand in forcing you into a situation so embarrassing that you’d take instant death over being an unwilling voyeur to Jeno’s many many late night sexcapades.
“Okay, okay, okay—” Mark began as if the rapid-fire speech wasn’t enough to get your attention, or the fact that it was just the two of you hanging out in the kitchen. “You know how my girl hosts girls’ night every two weeks?”
“How could I forget?” you chuckled. “I missed the one two nights ago and your girlfriend’s really good at guilt-tripping.”
“Yeah,” he trailed off with a tender smile. “yeah—uh, she wanted everyone to be there.” Your own smile was knowing, a smidge teasing even and it was enough for Mark’s cheeks to pinken. “Anyways! One of the girls was painting my nails, right?” He wiggled his fingers, showing his mustard yellow painted fingernails with daisy decals, being the girls’ go-to mannequin every girls’ night. “Aeri brought up hooking up with Jeno a few times from like, a year ago, then it became this whole thing of the girls sharing their own experiences—and wow, you girls are just as gross with the details, like, for real—turns out, they all slept with him at some point! Crazy, right?”
“Even your girlfriend?”
Mark smiled, sheepish. Quite the contrast to your horrified expression. “They shared a gen-ed class. College sophomore year. She went to his frat’s party, they hooked up once and never again.”
“Please tell me the girls hated it at least.”
Mark’s jaw closed with a click, lips pressing into a thin line. “Y’know, I don’t think the word ‘hate’ was like, ever thrown around, honestly.”
Good lord—okay, so Jeno was kind of a slut then. A slut that had infiltrated your friend group (and fucked Mark’s girlfriend!) and left them unanimously agreeing that he earned his merit as an absolute god in bed. Go figure. This might as well be some divine force’s way of saying ‘go fuck yourself!’
“So I just have to live with it, is what you’re saying.”
“I mean…” His face twisted into an expression you couldn’t put your finger on and the nonsensical gesticulation didn’t provide any concrete context needed. Either way, you just knew you wouldn’t like whatever he says next. “If it bothers you that much, just find a new place. You’ve been here long enough.”
“In this economy?” you exclaimed. “That’s like asking me to kill myself!”
Not to mention drastic when you had already paid half of this month’s rent along with the other expenses—as did Jeno—and you really couldn’t afford splurging extra to get away from one minor—major inconvenience. Plus, you were pretty attached to the place.
Deciding on that was kind of a tempting solution, however. You had forgotten what it was like living alone after you and Mark thought to rent a place together post-graduation since you both agreed it was cost-effective, but if Jeno was smart enough to repent for his sins of stealing (sleep) from thy neighbor (roommate), you wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself.
“I should have stayed back and talked to Hyuck about this,” you droned, narrowing your eyes when all Mark did was snort at both your joke and your bias for Thing Number Two (Donghyuck). “He would at least agree that Jeno’s dick’s bigger than his brain.”
Which was farthest from the truth, actually.
Painful as it was to admit, the certificate of Jeno graduating from a joint program of Computer Science and Cyber Security as Magna Cum Laude was tangible proof that Jeno Lee’s brain was wired properly to some extent that It made your own certificate of graduating Cum Laude from your nursing program a bit lackluster. It was an inside joke you both shared; where your degrees and graduation portraits weren’t all that useless as they had been perfect for decoration.
All that’s left now was a sour reminder that Jeno got more bitches than you did every time you glanced up at the immortalized version of him. Looming above the flat screen TV with the effortless sweep of his hair and the sweet, canned smile he flashed at the camera.
While you spent hours to at least make it seem like you hadn’t been trampled on from the harrowing events of final exams, back-to-back practicals and soul-sucking internships, Jeno hardly looked like he had put in any effort—like an in-the-making supermodel taking his head-shots. His hair was in its natural shade of black, longer too with a subtle mullet going. Jeno looked younger, untouched by the trials and tribulations adult life granted anyone breaching that point and less like the sex fiend you would hiss at as a knee-jerk reaction.
The Jeno now fitted the latter description to a tee. This rugged look he’s got going on for him screamed trouble. He embodied what sex on legs meant as well as being the guy a god-fearing father would tell you to stay away from.
Having said all that, you still thought that even hot people deserved to be humbled. Ever the one to talk shit about someone that had wronged you behind their back yourself, and Donghyuck was always a great shit-talking partner.
“Nice to know you still don’t listen to me. It’s like I’ve never moved out at all.”
“Maybe if you gave actual sound advice, I would.”
“Advice,” Mark parroted, following that up with a short laugh of disbelief. “you want advice? Okay, here’s one—avoiding Jeno won’t put a stop to this. Maybe all of this—whatever this is—could be resolved if you would just, oh, I don’t know, talk to him? Talk like proper adults would? Lay some ground rules or some shit, I don’t know.”
“I already did that! Many times, if you recall what we just talked about, and look where it got me.”
Temporarily living off of the vomit green couch in exchange for better quality of sleep? Yeah, this was definitely a new low for you.
“Would you bail me out if I was charged for man-slaughter? I’ll pay you back… in a few years.”
“No,” was Mark’s immediate answer. “I’m being serious, babe. Just… talk it out, yeah? Jeno’s worried, texting me and all.”
Huh. Never would you have thought that ‘Jeno’ and ‘worried’ could be mentioned in the same sentence when you sampled just how much Jeno couldn’t give less of a fuck towards the deep lines you had repeatedly drawn, crossing it multiple times, but you supposed there’s always a first time for everything; like how this was a first for you not putting blind faith into Mark’s words.
“I find that hard to believe,” you groused.
Mark’s whole face then twisted into the very expression he’d wear when he’s about to deliver a mean lecture. Unfortunately for you, you had never been an exception to them and you were his best friend! It defeated the whole purpose of the label and the privileges that came with it and as you braced yourself for his god-given right of bitching at you, the sound of the keypad’s beeping made both of you freeze, the fight visible on Mark’s person gone once the automatic lock clicked in place as your faces blenched.
Not one of you dared to move as you listened to Jeno skulking around the foyer with bated breaths.
You could hear a pin drop when your roommate’s shuffling came to an abrupt stop. Then came the sharp gasp, the heavy rushed footsteps and there Jeno was in all his muscled glory; again, in athleisure and panting as if he ran a marathon just to see if his hunch was right.
“Talk to him,” Mark gritted before his face brightened with a capitalistic grin that would usually fool almost everyone and whirled around to greet Jeno with a dialed up amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”
Jeno was nonplussed by this, his gaze still stuck on you which granted a sinking feeling in your stomach when he didn’t do anything else. No smile, no nothing and Mark didn’t seem to pick up on the growing tension. That, or he simply just chose not to acknowledge it, making nice out of self-preservation.
“You look great!” It was kind of painful watching Mark acting as the buffer, yet unknowingly stall Jeno and the impending doom of talking to him. “Strong! You look strong—” as Mark said this, he gave Jeno’s bicep a friendly slap, only for him to reel it back almost a half second later with wide eyes. “Uh, well! I was just leaving—girlfriend’s looking for me so… bye!”
And there he went, leaving you to fend for yourself, but not before giving you a pointed look over Jeno’s shoulder that clearly said ‘fix this, or else’.
Or else, you huffed, Mark Lee couldn’t even hurt a fly—
“You’re home,” Jeno said, tone soft as ever despite the clear ire that was starting to bubble up to the surface from the way you caught his jaw clench. That didn’t stop your pettiness from taking over, however, making a sour face as you turned away from him to grab your favorite mug out of the cupboard.
“What an amazing observation,” you said with the same amount of excitement a school teacher would have if they were to be condescending. “Would you like a gold star?”
“I was worried,” and Jeno, ever the one to not rise to the bait shamelessly dangling right in front of his face, kept his voice even. “You left my texts on read. You didn’t return any of my calls.”
“Wow! It’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, “‘worried’ my ass. You know damn well I left because of you, so you don’t get to act like I’m in the wrong when—“
Jeno cuts you off with a stern call of your name, like he’s had enough. Of what, exactly? As far as you knew, you were simply telling him the truth of the matter: he drove you away because one stubborn part of Jeno Lee refused to listen and admit that he was in the wrong.
Slowly, you twisted your neck to hit Jeno with the most chilling look known to man-kind as the familiar sensation of anger caused each of your muscles to stiffen. The one thing that kept you from tackling him to the ground was the abashed furrow of Jeno’s eyebrows and his downturned lips. He genuinely looked guilty. As guilty as a man could be from getting as much action as a blunt getting passed around a frat-party, but sadly for him, peace was never an option.
He could cry for forgiveness all he wanted and you’d only think of ways to make him cry even harder.
“Look,” Jeno began, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out a heavy sigh. “I just don’t understand why you had to go this far? Avoiding me for two weeks straight—I was worried,” he reiterated, eyes opening just for them to narrow accusingly. “I didn’t know where you were. Mark refused to tell me since ‘it wasn’t his business’—“ and honestly, if this were any other situation, you would have laughed at Jeno’s piss-poor imitation of Mark and the exaggerated air quotes. “—and I had to find out from Donghyuck, of all people, that you were staying with them!”
This was a first. Jeno was never one to completely lose his cool. Always the milder one between you both who knew how to keep his temper in check. Jeno was calm in every sense of the word, with placid smiles and solemn nods—composed even in the most dire of situations where tensions were high. A stark contrast to how you weren’t afraid of baring your teeth to let people know how you felt, swinging your emotions around as if they were a weapon.
Clearly, the Jeno that stood in front of you bore none of that. He was visibly upset—by what could be considered as ghosting him for two weeks straight, which would have been longer if Jeno had come later in the evening. You were starting to believe that the universe simply hated you to the point of cutting the streak.
You stayed quiet, letting your scowl do all the talking.
Jeno pinched his nose bridge. “I’m sorry I slept with Jimin, alright? It’ll never happen again if that’s what you want.”
“Oh my God,” you exclaimed as you shut the cupboard harsher than intended, moving to head for the coffee machine. He still didn’t get it and you’ll need the extra caffeine in your system for this.
“This is not about you sleeping with Jimin! This is about you crossing lines I specifically told you not to cross! How about you try having someone’s life in your hands? My job isn’t a walk in the park, Jeno. I need to be alert. I need to have my head set on straight, but clearly, I can’t have any of that because I have to hear you fucking the next person who looks at you! If any of my patients die, it’s on you. If I lose my job because I let a patient die, it’s on you—why won’t this fucking thing work!”
Your last straw might as well be the shitty coffee machine proving, once again, how shitty it was. You were half-tempted to unplug the thing and chuck it at his head.
God, you were so fucking angry. The two weeks away from home was the semblance of peace you had desperately needed after almost jeopardizing an angioplasty case with Dr. Jung when you caught yourself handing the wrong type of suture he asked for. It was only luck that you were stuck with one of the more approachable surgeons from cardio, letting you off with a lighthearted ‘wake up’ as Dr. Jung gestured for the right one.
Jeno reached over, pressing down on a button while tilting his head. “Are you done?” He said along the low whir of the coffee machine, evidently trying not to laugh.
The minty waft of his breath hit your face and it was then did you notice how close he had gotten. Your toes almost touching as you blinked up to meet his eyes, confused at how fucking fast he got all up in your space while you ranted.
You scowled harder. “Yeah,” and wow, you knew Jeno was one of the few lucky ones who grew to be tall. Height was one of the obvious physical advantages he had, but when put into perspective, having him like this—almost chest to chest—made a huge difference. You felt so small underneath Jeno’s imposing dead-eyed stare as if he was gauging his prey; a silent dare for you to make one sudden move knowing he’d catch you in the end after playing with you for a little, one way or another. “Yeah, I’m done.”
A small smile tugged on his lips. “Less work for me then.”
“Huh?”
Jeno dipped his head so quickly that it took you a second or two to register his lips pressing against yours.
Jeno Lee. The very same Jeno Lee you imagined exploding in your head too many times to the point you grew bored of the gory image enough to consider telepathically saying I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia until it takes and manifests in real life, was kissing you. This was far from the initial possible outcome you would expect in light of the cold war wedging a gap between you that the backasswards had all higher functions of your brain—and possibly the one that had telepathy locked away forever—shut down when he angled his head to press deeper, as if to coax you into becoming an active participant.
The only options left for you to consider were: a.) kiss him back b.) kiss him back since it became crystal clear that whatever method of psychological warfare Jeno waged wasn’t worth stopping. For reference, option b was the obvious choice. The emphasis, the drama of it all complemented your own flair for dramatics and you would rather drop dead than let Jeno have the upper hand. And maybe because you were insane, choosing anything but resolving the issue with a proper talk, and good lord can the man kiss.
It’s his lips, you thought bitterly, lips of plump and petal-pink goodness melding against your own slightly chapped pair that rendered you uncharacteristically pliant.
Normally, you were anything but, though it was a little rewarding to know that Jeno was losing it just as much; the finesse to his methods gradually chipping away along the push and pull of your mouths with the delicious burden of his weight pressing you against the counter to have more than just a taste. A small window was open for some lucidity to seep in, that being Jeno’s forethought of wriggling a hand in between the edge of the counter top and your back so it wouldn’t jab at your spine as the other cupped your jaw, shuddering when his pinky brushed along a sensitive spot behind your ear.
Jeno smiled at this. You felt him smile at this, but you were still stuck on the oddly sweet gesture that you thought to show some gratitude by returning the same level of eagerness Jeno had, suckling and biting down on his bottom lip. At his whine, you promptly soothed the spot with a languid swipe of your tongue and did it all over again. Not that he minded. You could practically tell just how excited he was; all bricked up and prodding the softness of your belly, and he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by it at all. You didn’t think he would be when he had quite the package.
“I’ve always wanted to do that.”
There’s a wry grin tugging at his lips when you both parted for some air. “All I could think about was shutting you up every single time you bitch at me.” He regained the closeness just to brush his lips against your cheek, sighing almost in a dreamy-like manner that you were half-tempted to back out. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”
“Don’t piss me off,” you settled on saying instead as a warning, yet let Jeno—taking it as a cue—lift you up and place you on top of the counter without any struggle that you didn’t even try to hide the fact that the display of Jeno’s raw strength was doing it for you. An infuriatingly attractive feat and you supposed your thought on the matter translated on your face well enough if Jeno’s cheeky grin was anything to go by.
Still, the spread of your legs was no less inviting, something Jeno found funny as he snickered to himself before taking the space in between them for you to wind your arms around his sturdy shoulders and pull him down for another kiss. Mostly to shut him up. Yes, definitely to shut him up.
Jeno parted from you again with an audible smack, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your waist. “Personally—”
You groaned, “oh here we go.”
“Personally,” Jeno tried again, ignoring your yelp when he gave a playful pinch to your skin. “I still think that you’re so pent up that everything annoys you—like me having a healthy sex-life, for example.”
This was it. This was definitely rock-bottom. You were finally in the trenches that you’re entertaining an actual conversation relating to Jeno’s fixation of sticking his dick into willing holes more times than you could count. Oh, and the fact that you were starting to become a little self-conscious from not getting any forms of sex on the regular unlike mister casanova over here.
You hit him with a dubious look. “Where are you even going with this?”
Jeno let out a low hum in lieu of an actual answer and pulled you forward as if he wasn’t already up in your space, the tip of his strong nose gently grazing yours, his lips doing pretty much the same thing too: a gentle brush against your own twitchy pair when he murmured, “don’t you want to let off a little steam? I can help. I want to help.”
And that rightfully stumped you. Not because it was the second time he propositioned you, with the first being more of a joke than anything, but how Jeno actually came off genuine this time around. Not a trace of the smugness could be found either. Just unbridled zeal that being scrutinized by the darkness of Jeno’s gaze birthed a familiar simmering of—horrifyingly enough—want beneath your navel.
There was an argument that could be made here. Where the stubborn part of you could simply claim that it was your curiosity coming into play—wanting to see for yourself if what Mark (and the girls) had said about Jeno was true; that there was a reason why Jeno’s roster was seemingly never ending. You could do that. Though, if anyone were to walk in right now, you didn’t think the compromising position would help in any way when you were quite literally entangled with each other.
Likewise, It didn’t really help that the wretched gremlin burrowing in the debased parts of your brain wanted Jeno Lee so much that you damn near salivated when the man bared more of his neck as a silent ‘go ahead’ for you to ravage the smooth skin with reds, blues and purples with your teeth. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to Jeno that it honestly made you stupid enough to have a taste once the chance presented itself, surprisingly, without wishing an aneurysm upon yourself.
But you weren’t going to give in that easily. You could just raise that having first hand experience with whatever Jeno had to offer was all for the sake of research and to prove your point.
That’s all that it was. That’s all that it will be; a case study for you. Nothing more, nothing less.
Jeno squeaked out his confusion when you ended up having his cheeks squished between your fingers and thumb right when he tried going in for another kiss, causing his lips to pucker out even more.
“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?”
You dug your fingers into his skin harder as a warning when he tested his luck again.
It’s almost comical watching Jeno stiffen in your hold, making a show of gathering enough distance for him to look right into your eyes.
Then Jeno smiled something placid, yet the glimmer in his eyes told you otherwise. You felt so seen that you wanted to curl into yourself so he wouldn’t have to pick you apart with his steely gaze alone. In that moment, you were prey at the mercy of an apex predator just waiting to strike.
“Is that a challenge?” Jeno asked, even-tempered, irritatingly enough.
“And what if it is?” your fingers tangled themselves in the smooth dark blue strands and tugged gently. “Scared that you’ll lose?”
Jeno’s smile widened.
If there was one thing to take away from all of this, it was to never test the limits of a Taurus man’s patience.
Or else you’d end up in a position where your strength—or lack thereof—would be tested; or else you’d end up restless in between Jeno’s spread legs, one of his arms slung down the length of your torso as a seat belt and anchoring you down to his chest while three of his nimble fingers pistoned in and out of your sopping cunt. It was a fight with an obvious outcome of you losing by a landslide with his death grip around you, but you couldn’t help but squirm when he was so good at making you feel delirious just from his fingers making a mess of where you ached the most.
Fingers that were longer and thicker, reaching deeper than yours ever could. With Jeno, it took him no time at all to have you crying out from his digits nudging that sensitive spot within your silken walls, and the same fingers decidedly pulled out without any warning with an impossibly wet sound just for Jeno to switch his attention towards your clit, fingers flicking sideways in quick succession. This urged an immediate reaction, you letting out a shuddering cry as one of your hands shot out to lock tightly around his wrist.
Your head spun at Jeno’s gentle hushing as you twitched in his embrace. Tender words easily slipping past his full lips in conjunction with his almost rough treatment had your body wounding tighter and tighter as the divide between pleasure and pain gradually flattened to gossamer thin with each pass of Jeno’s fingers across your clit.
He played you like a fiddle, like he knew exactly what to do in drawing out a pleasure filled song from within you until the barrier ripped, sobbing wetly into the air as you and your resolve shattered into pieces with Jeno’s constricting hold around your quivering form kept you from breaking completely.
When you came to, Jeno’s voice was the first thing you latched onto, bringing you back to full lucidity; gentle as he talked you through what was probably the most intense, toe-curling orgasm from being finger-banged on the couch, of all places.
Jeno breathed out a mixed noise of surprise and amazement. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
And it was when you felt the familiar warm and wet trickle from your pussy down to your ass did you finally let the humiliation set it: you’ve let Jeno finger you on the couch, soaking his shorts and the couch as evidence.
You wanted to die.
“Yeah, well, It’s not like I tell everybody I can,” you panted, hissing when Jeno’s hand curiously trailed down to assess the mess, middle and ring finger slipping between your vulva then dipping shallowly into you and rewarding himself with a whine. Uncomfortable as it was to move your neck at this angle, you wouldn’t miss the chance to glare at him. “like—‘hi! I’m this and that, and I can squirt!—do you know how deranged that sounds?”
“I dunno, I know I‘d be impressed. Intrigued. Maybe even ask for a demo—”
“Jeno.”
“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Jeno snickered as he retracted his fingers, only to stick them into his mouth with a pleased hum, like it was the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his life. “What?” He asked, muffled from suckling on his fingers still, when he caught you gawking at him, completely mortified by the shameless sweep of his tongue around his digits.
You wanted to cry. “You’re a fucking freak.”
“Oh princess, this is nothing,” Jeno finally freed is mouth of the visual torture, a broad grin stretching spit-slick lips when he, again, took in your visceral reaction towards being called princess. He’s so annoying. You verbalized the thought and the fucker just laughed. “Call me a freak again when I ask you to soak my face,” he said, voice sweet, wincing slightly when he held your cheeks, with damp fingers and all. Freak. “Or would you like it better if I beg instead? I’m flexible. I’ll do anything you want.”
Never mind, that was much much worse. Holy fuck. The visual in your head did nothing but spur you on even further no matter the aftermath of a thigh shaking release taking its effects now.
“Stop talking,” you groaned. “please, just shut up.”
“Okay.” Jeno giggled. Giggled, like he wasn’t an insane person delighting himself to your bodily fluids just a few seconds ago. Then to add insult to injury, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “Think you can go another round?”
So he made you cum once—squirt, for that matter, but that’s, like, whatever when you were capable of doing that on your own. You had plenty of time figuring out what you liked best in this realm of preferences and for all you knew, Mark was simply fucking with you—just like the other girls probably were—as some sick elaborate joke, and Jeno was simply overcompensating for the sake of his ego with their help.
“Just… give me a few. I’m starting to go deaf.” Well, not really. It felt more like there was cotton stuffed into your ears, your own voice sounding muffled and faraway. Although you weren’t new to the feeling, it wasn’t common either and it was especially new that another person was able to render you into this sluggish version of yourself.
He sucked in a breath. “Was it that good that you’ve gone temporarily deaf?”
Other than that, then came the numbing of your scalp. You’ve read about this once, a product from genuine curiosity after a little moment of freaking the fuck out, thinking you were about to die from cumming too hard to the point of losing circulation up there in your brain. And—no you weren’t dying, though it would be an interesting way to go.
You followed up with this just as the blunt edges of his fingernails lightly scratched at your scalp. “I literally can’t feel that except a slight pressure—and don’t get too cocky. This happens to me when I get myself off too.”
Jeno didn’t get even a second of gloating before you started rambling about the possibilities of why this happens with a basic rundown of the nervous system (rapid increase in heart rate and blood pressure) and completely disregarding the stiff outline of Jeno’s pride pressing snugly into the cleft of your bare ass cheeks.
He felt just as hard as he was when you sucked faces in the kitchen. Warm. Big, that you had no idea if the shakes you were getting now was out of fear for Jeno’s cock potentially rearranging your guts to the point of no return, or out of anticipation from that possibly happening. Though what was more shocking was Jeno maintaining some sort of chivalrous streak, staying where he was and putting your pleasure first before his own when he could pretty much turn the tides and have his way with you.
But like a dog being told to stay for a promised treat, Jeno doesn’t do anything, besides soothing you with absentminded caresses here and there while he listened.
At least that’s how you thought this slip in judgment was going to end right until Jeno picked you up in one fell swoop, abruptly—and rudely—cutting you off from the build up towards a detailed spiel of a hypothesis to instead let out an undignified yelp of surprise. He hauled you up without any visible struggle and it was doing horrible horrible things to your psyche.
“Seriously, Jeno,” you exclaimed, grunting when he wrangled you onto your knees, your chest pressed down onto the coffee table as if you were nothing but a doll he gets to twist and bend for his own entertainment. “Were you even listening?”
“Uh huh—something about the temporary effects of an orgasm to the nervous system,” he trailed off at the same time his fingers grazed your skin while rucking up your pullover, just high enough that you shivered against the cool glass surface. “I’ll be honest with you, Human Biology wasn’t exactly interesting to me, but the little science session was cute.”
The glass was doing wonders in cooling down your cheek.
This was the second time he has called you cute. So casually too that you started to think that maybe Jeno had a thing for embarrassing you, see you squirm, whine, make a fool out of yourself—overall, make your life more difficult than it already was.
“Dick,” you quipped, all too weak to actually mean it and Jeno seemed to get the memo, offering a short laugh. “do I have to fit a certain criteria to do this in your bedroom?” you followed, mustering up some strength to glare at him over your shoulder, only to falter when you found Jeno was rather preoccupied with something else.
It’s no secret that Jeno was simply born with a resting face so sweet and unassuming that there was this perceived notion of him not having a mean bone inside that clean-cut body of his. That Jeno wasn’t capable of dishing out noteworthy comebacks aimed at the ego.
Sure, he could be unaware at times (as per his loud sex problem), but you couldn’t deny the simple truth that Jeno could be nice—is nice. So nice. Sweet even, that the expression crossing his face was just as honeyed and becoming more so the longer he stayed kneeling there, raking his eyes over your half-naked form bent to compliance. It wasn’t the blatant leering that got to you though, but more of how Jeno looked doing it. Who knew the mole smack dab in the middle of your back could be adored this much?
There’s a faint smile tugging on his lips. Miniscule, barely there—still a smile, nonetheless, as he traced the length of your back with his eyes, his large hands essentially doing the same: mapping the entirety of your torso for his own indulgence until he got his fill; warm palms gluing to the soft dips of your waist, all the while his face twisted where it gave the impression he was seeing what was front of him for the very first time.
You looked away, face hotter than it was before.
Whatever that was seemed too private of a moment to witness. It felt intimate—the way his eyes drank in your body—too intimate for a ‘one and done’ thing that you seriously couldn’t wait to get fucked and put an end to this hands-on case study of Jeno’s whore-ish tendencies.
“So no bedroom, then,” you said, hoping it would snap Jeno out of it.
“Sorry, princess.” And, to be fair, Jeno did sound apologetic for a man that was about to get his dick wet for the umpteenth time. You gave him points for trying, then docked off some because princess. Really? “I don’t think I can make the trip to my bedroom. Need to fuck you now or else my dick will fall off.”
You closed your eyes, dropping your chin forward far enough that your forehead met the glass surface with a dull thunk.
So much for thinking he was sweet during a moment. It’s like the more he opened his mouth, the more he inched away from the polite friend-of-a-friend gym-bro who probably helped grandmas cross the street.
“Ugh—fuck you.”
“Mm, yeah.” You stopped counting the last time you had fallen into bed with someone else, and you were starting to think that it has probably been a while; if the brush of spandex against your skin from Jeno fumbling behind to drag his shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free has you completely losing it. Jesus, this was embarrassing. “You’re about to.”
You scoffed, “corny.”
Jeno didn’t deign the cattiness with an answer and instead let his growing impatience speak for itself, kneeing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer until your sharp intake of breath pierced through the once still air when the sticky head of his cock prodded at your hole.
“Any time now.”
Trying to sound unaffected was truly a Sisyphean task. You couldn’t help it, really. Being snarky came natural to you, though if Jeno could tell you were just talking your shit to cover up your impatience, he did nothing about it and went about with teasing you, dragging his length back and forth against your slit.
“I’m literally becoming dryer the longer you keep this up.”
That got a reaction out of him this time, letting out an incredulous laugh, “there’s no way of shutting you up, is there?”
“I don’t know, you can try hard—” whatever else that was supposed to follow immediately died at the tip of your tongue, gasping at the sudden intrusion.
“Oh! Well that’s one way.”
Another version of Jeno in your head just died of spontaneous combustion. You could literally hear him smile. Smiley bastard.
It was intense for sure. As intense as it could be after a stupidly long dry spell that you genuinely felt as though you were reborn a fucking virgin and made the mistake of picking the very guy with a third leg for a dick to pop your cherry. If the head of his cock breaching your pussy had you this frenzied, who knew what the actual thing could do to your actively deteriorating sanity? And—well, you were about to find out, weren’t you?
The reality of it all hit you like a freight train, the groan Jeno breathed out sounded so loud even over the mechanical drone of the air conditioner when he pushed deeper into you.
“Jen—oh my God—wait—” You reached behind to grab onto Jeno’s ass cheek at breakneck speed. A grave mistake, really, because in what you would hope could have stopped Jeno from basically splitting you into two, you unintentionally helped him plug you up. Your nails dug into his flesh as a result.
“Careful with the claws,” he hissed. “They actually hurt.”
“Yeah?” He yelped when you squeezed his ass tighter, his own hand holding onto yours to stop you from doing actual damage. “Try getting impaled by a dick, dickhead.”
Jeno went rigid. “You’ve had sex before, right?”
“Yes?” You looked at him like he was stupid over your shoulder and—all gods above. He already looked fucked out. Cheeks pink, skin shining with sweat (when did he take his shirt off?) and eyes darker from how blown out his pupils were—you know, maybe you weren’t too far off from the thought. “But unlike you, I don’t fuck the next thing that breathes my way.”
“Wow,” Jeno huffed. “Clearly I’m doing something wrong if you’re still running your mouth.”
You had a long history of letting your mouth run before your brain could even decipher if what you had to say would be ideal for the situation. To get out of it, though, was a completely different story and with how things are unfolding, yeah, maybe you bit off more than you could chew.
“No, no—shh, it’s okay. You're okay,” Jeno soothed just as you squirmed, trying to relax. “You're doing so good for me. Just breathe, yeah? Jus’ a little more—oh, fuck.” The guttural groan coincided with the squeak you let out once Jeno shoved himself balls deep into you with a faint slap of skin, clenching around him.
Out of all the men you’ve been with in the past, it took you the longest to adjust around Jeno’s girth. Not only because you simply did not have the time to fuck around, but he really was huge in the sense that he was somehow hitting places that you didn’t even know were there. He truly was the biggest you’ve taken in a while and it was a relief that you had the day off tomorrow and the day after; plenty of time to recover. The thought of having to explain getting railed over your coffee table to the point you were walking funny was mortifying enough as it is.
“This is so much better than hearing you bitch and moan, seriously. Sometimes I start thinking you just want me to hate you.” Jeno didn’t look like he was capable of hating anything if he tried, though with the way his hips drilled mercilessly into you, maybe a tiny part of him could. If pushed right. “And you complain so damn much about the noise when you’re no better. Can you hear how fuckin’ loud you are now?”
You didn’t even realize Jeno was still holding onto the hand that seemed to permanently glue itself onto his barely-there ass cheek until he took your joined hands—fingers laced and all—to migrate beside your head. Right in front of your face and, somehow, it felt like an insult.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Jeno Lee,” you moaned and squeezed his hand at a particularly hard thrust jostling you forward. “Fuck you and your useless big dick.”
Jeno snickered. You still called him big, so he’ll take that as a win. “My dick is one of those things and it’s not useless.”
Jeno didn’t really mind how loud you actually were. In fact, he liked it. A lot. Liked hearing how good he was making you feel with each drag of his cock within your warm and slick insides. Liked knowing that he was the reason why you were so lost in your own song of pleasure as you fucked back onto him with all you’ve got when he stopped all his movements to see what you would do and goodness, were you a sight for sore eyes. And Jeno was glad to witness all of this.
You were truly a fantasy come to life. Something he’d never would expect to touch, to mold and to feel in his own hands.
Watching you take what you wanted with no complaints was not an expected outcome—hell, having sex with you wasn’t what Jeno was hoping to get from tonight at all. Talking would have been just fine, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course not. Not when you were putting up a show, fueled by your own greed for pleasure, for him and him alone and he could tell all that pent-up stress was starting to seep out the more the back of your thighs met his.
Jeno was a patient man for sure. He was known for it at work. When it came to his diligent daily visits to the gym just two blocks away. When it came to living life in general; yet somehow, you were part of the minute collective that was able to test that until there was nothing left of it and as much as Jeno loved seeing you like this; desperate enough for cock that doing all the work was no problem, he quickly grew bored being a spectator.
There was also you threatening the safety of his skull if he didn’t get a move on to fuck you harder. Jeno only let out an amused snort at this, thinking it was cute and leaned forward so you were chest to back.
“I hoped for a second you’d be begging,” he mumbled into your nape. “you’re something else, aren’t you?”
“Fuck me, or I’ll make sure you’ll never get to fuck anyone else ever again.”
Well.
You did make a compelling argument, and just like how this all went, Jeno followed and delivered.
It was made very clear to you that his muscles weren’t just for show because unlike you, he possessed an insane amount of core strength that it barely dented his stamina when he lifted you up a couple of inches above the coffee table. Your joined hands came in clutch for balance while his free hand acted like a necklace loosely wrapped around your throat so Jeno could kiss you as his hips regained momentum.
Kissing gradually became less of a thing and more of just you both breathing into each other’s mouths, completely taken over by the sheer pleasure of it all. Normally, you’d avoid his eyes if you could, but you were so far gone that you didn’t mind staring into the endless pits of Jeno’s hooded stare. His thrusts slowed down, yet they were more deliberate than ever that it took all of your leftover energy to not say anything stupid like how this change in angle and pace had Jeno plunging in so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat.
“‘m close,” he rasped, hand on your neck tightening a smidge as his movements steadily increased in speed. “How about another one from you, huh? On my cock this time?”
You could only sound a shaky hum and that was enough of an answer for him.
Heated and damp skin met the glass surface once more and Jeno’s cock snugly fit inside of you again with little to no resistance. It was almost the same as how you started out. The only difference was your navel pressing firmly against the table by your still joined hands pushing down onto your back.
Time wasn’t wasted at all and that change alone fully intensified the sensation of Jeno’s girth drilling into you like he was trying so hard to carve a space that he could only fill, even more so when you wriggled and squared your hips to take him in better. It made so much of a difference that your eyes rolled back into your skull as mindless pleasured noises spilled past your lips, your grip around his fingers growing tighter that it hurt your own.
The second wave of your orgasm encroached at a dangerously fast pace from the oversensitivity earlier and the consistency of Jeno’s perfectly timed jackhammering thrusts hitting the tender spot within you, forcing out tinny ah ah ahs out of you as you clenched around him from how mind-numbingly amazing this was, being underneath Jeno’s weight.
It’s been too fucking long that the delirious part of your brain, completely compromised by the rush of dopamine and oxytocin from cumming for the second time entertained the idea of keeping Jeno buried in you long enough until your insides molded around each ridge and vein of Jeno’s cock for the perfect fit. You’ve never felt this full in your life. Even the frantic pistoning of Jeno’s hips aided by the wet gush of slick didn’t shatter the illusion. The feeling of cotton stuffed into your ears came back tenfold.
“Close,” Jeno rasped. “Where—where?”
“Pull out,” you said, all too winded to add that you were on the pill, but you didn’t want to take your chances. Apparently the tension was that bad that none of you had the forethought of using a condom. Your minds were so clouded that critical thinking was impossible, but what’s done was done.
Jeno pulled out with a slick sound, followed by a shaky moan that grew louder and louder with each stroke of his cock, leaving you to whine from the loss (wow, you were so out of it). Warm cum splattered onto the sweat-damp skin of your back and for once, you didn’t have the heart or energy to complain about the sticky mess
Click.
Your eyes shot open. “Did you just take a photo of me?”
“Yeah,” Jeno said. “You look good like this. Pretty. Wanted to have something to jerk off too.”
He could have just stopped at pretty. “You’re gross. You aren’t going to show that to anybody else, are you?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t like sharing and I actually value my life.”
You could only groan in response, sagging more against the now moist surface of the glass as if you were trying to merge yourself with it, feeling the after effects of Jeno trying to fuck the life out of you.
“I think I’m going to die.”
Jeno responded in kind with a sweet laugh, letting go of your hand. It didn’t even register that you still had your fingers intertwined up until he let go, and tempted as you were to lift yourself up and see what kind of face he was making now that he left his mark on you, you were genuinely too exhausted to do that.
“That good, huh?” His hands returned to your hips, squeezing them gently. “I told you so.”
With the last bit of your strength, you kicked at his thigh.
“Okay, let’s get you up.” He swiped his discarded shirt up from the floor to wipe away the cum before lifting you up by the armpits so you’re on your knees, settling your weight onto your calves as he watched your pullover delicately fall into place and cover up most of your skin. Your own name on his tongue sounded so far away to you. “—hey. You still with me?”
There’s a hum as a response and that’s it. Not only did he end up fucking all the stress and tension out of you, there goes half of your life, too. Gravity took over and you fell right into his chest with your head cushioned by his bare shoulder, eyes glazed over.
“How does a bath sound?”
You nodded, letting your eyes slip closed as Jeno adjusted your slumped form to carry you.
Jeno almost jumped out of his skin when your phone rang.
“Hello?” Jeno said quietly after scrambling for it on your side of his bed, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He didn’t think you had granted him the perk to simply barge into your room just yet, so he had you clothed in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of new boxer shorts as you dozed away.
“Jeno? Why do you have her phone? Did you kill her before she killed you?”
“No.” That made him worry. How often did you tell anyone who’d happily lend an ear that you’d murder him in cold blood? Whatever, hopefully after tonight, things will smoothen out. “She’s asleep right now. She won’t be heading back over there tonight.” Or ever, he thought.
“Oh?” Jaemin sounded excited for a second, then turned suspicious. “Why? Did she forgive you yet?”
Jeno let the question marinate for a moment, weighing the benefits of letting one of the nosiest people he knew in on his business. A loud snort followed by some mumbling startled him and Jeno craned his neck to find you now facing his side of the bed, still asleep with your mouth parted in a darling little ‘o’. There’s drool at the corner of your mouth. You’ve never looked cuter.
“Define… forgive.”
For once, Jaemin, surprisingly, was rather quick on the uptake “Oho? You two fucked it out, didn’t you?” When Jeno didn’t answer right away, Jaemin gasped. “Jeno, you dog!”
His cackling caused Jeno’s cheeks to flush an impossible red. “Don’t make it weird!”
“You made it weird the second you decide to sleep with her. Besides, we’re all adults here! I promise I won’t tell my third unofficial roommate“—Jeno wished he could reach through the phone right now and choke the life out of him—“that you told me. Tell me everything. Down to the nastiest detail—Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re home just in time. Guess what—“
“I’m coming by and getting the rest of her stuff in a bit.” The whining fell deaf onto Jeno’s ears. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”
He hung up, gently sliding your phone underneath the pillow you’re using. Actually, maybe you'd let him in your good graces if he went to fetch your charger.
Just when he thought peace and quiet had finally been attained, his own phone started buzzing from an onslaught of messages.
Hyuck: U GUYS FUCKED?????
Hyuck: WITHOUT ME???
Hyuck: NO FAIR 😭😭😭😭
Jaemin: OR ME???
Jaemin: spare coochie plz 🥺🤲🏼
Hyuck: was there a tape at least 😔
Jaemin: 👀
Jeno: I hope she kills you both when I show her these.
Jeno set his phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ and tossed it carelessly onto his nightstand.
This was not your room.
With each toss and turn, it still smelt like man, which wasn’t completely awful. It’s a rather pleasant scent; fresh, not too overwhelming on the citrus notes and something woodsy and floral binding everything together. A little too summery when it was currently in the middle of autumn, but you supposed you were in no position to judge when you’ve been using the same perfume since high school.
All in all, it was still nice. If not a little off-putting, not waking up entangled in your linen sheets which was starkly different from how your usual mornings went, yet the exhaustion was what kept you from making a huge fuss. At least Jeno's room didn't harbor the aesthetics of anything from the r/malelivingspace subreddit. Jeno's room was rather nice. Clean. Neat. Evident that a man lived here.
Apart from the abrupt change, there was also the bone-deep soreness serving as a heavy reminder of the aftermath of your decision to sleep with the very same person who took it from you.
And how ironic that he was also the reason why you slept so well last night too.
What a way to end your so-called case study with you as the punchline, really and—fine, maybe Jeno did have the room to boast his admittedly exceptional stroke game. Maybe Jeno knew how to make people cum and it was a fluke that he made you, too. Twice. Maybe Jeno earned his merit of being an expert in the field of sex then.
Your lips wobbled, frowning at Jeno’s ceiling.
This was literally the worst discovery of your life. Being a test subject yourself to see if Jeno’s reputation had preceded him didn’t make it any less horrifying. How could you return to normalcy after this?
You buried your face into one of Jeno’s many pillows and screamed.
Luckily, he hadn’t caught wind of your morning breakdown.
After freshening up in the bathroom, you quietly made your way towards the spacious kitchen, assuming it’s where Jeno was, albeit slowly as each step you took made the ache in between your thighs more pronounced. He had his back to you, bare of anything besides the tight boxer briefs and the frilly pink apron shielding his torso from the splattering oil cinched around his waist.
Jeno Lee painted the very picture of temptation in this current moment. Jacked all to hell, complementing his god-like proportions that showed off his slutty waist women alike would die to have and a striking face that could start wars. But out of everything, your gaze lingered on his barely-there ass wondering if your nails did leave any stinging marks that Jeno would feel for days.
“Oh, hey. You’re up—were you staring at my ass?”
From his behind, you immediately stuck your eyes onto something else less suspicious—like the geometric light fixture just above his head you once hoped would knock him out one day.
“No I wasn’t,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Can’t stare at anything that isn’t even there.”
“Hey!” Jeno whined. “I do have an ass!”
“And I have a dick,” you shot right back and made your way towards where the shitty coffee machine was. Just a few paces away from where Jeno stood. “See how easy it is to lie?”
He sighed. “How come you have an answer for everything?”
You cracked your first smile of the morning. Smug, if anything, but a smile nonetheless. “You just make it so easy.”
“Damn, so even the sex wasn’t enough,” Jeno muttered as he flipped a pancake with an effortless flick of the wrist. “How many rounds will it take for you to forgive me?”
“Zero.” If looks could kill, Jeno would have burst into flames by now. “Is sex all you think about?”
“I can think of other things…” he trailed off, giving you a quick glance with a sweet moue on his lips. “most of my thoughts are of you, so…” Jeno turned to you fully, his eyes gaining a hopeful shine.
That shocked a short laugh out of you in spite of yourself, shaking your head as you marched for the cupboard. “Nice try, big guy—and the sex?” You shot him a quick glance over your shoulder. “You can forget about it.”
“Okay.”
You looked at him again. Jeno was now frying eggs with his face devoid of everything but concentration.
“I still hate you,” you added, loudly.
The sunny side-up eggs slipped cleanly onto a large plate. “Mhm.”
“It was a one time thing.” Somehow his lack of a reaction was slowly getting to you. “It’s not happening again. Ever. I’m not having sex with you again. Ever.”
“Yeah, I got you the first time.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Perfect.” You harrumped, making a quick grab for your favorite mug before coming face-to-face with your stupid ass coffee machine.
This was not your stupid ass coffee machine.
What sat in place of the old piece of junk Granny had given you as a housewarming gift (after expressing her concern for your possible caffeine addiction) was a newer model you were pretty sure most, if not all, lifestyle influencers had displayed in their meticulously curated coffee corner. This was built mostly for convenience and to fit into the current trend of aesthetics, no wonder you couldn’t get it to work last night. Muscle memory had you pressing the wrong button.
Slowly, you pried your trembling eyes from the brand-spanking-new replacement to watch your roommate in his element, completely unaware of you currently going through the greatest shock of your life, and back.
You looked closer. There was a Post-It stuck onto the side.
I’m sorry (.◜ᯅ◝) — your asshole roommate.
Jeno bought you a new coffee machine.
“Hey Jen?” you called softly after a full minute of inner deliberation.
Jeno hummed his acknowledgement. He even fried the bacon just how you liked it. There’s no way you couldn’t forgive him now. You were mean, sure, but you weren’t evil. Why did he have to be so nice?
“Can you show me how the coffee machine works?” Then, just as quietly, you added: “please?”
He turned to look at you with the most brilliant smile as he killed the fire.
“Yeah. Of course.”
Mark (ER): so did you two talk yet
Mark (ER): ..hellooooo
Mark (ER): did you kill him 😟
You: no? tf
Mark (ER): so u guys r good now or
You: 👍🏼👍🏼
Mark (ER): omg TWO thumbs ups 😀
Mark (ER): are u bffs now ???
Mark (ER): i was here first btw
You: go bother ur gf omg??????
a/n: *taps mic* ...hello is this thing on? First things first, thank you so much for reading until the end! Originally, this was supposed to come out as a full one-shot, but life has been all sorts of crazy that I simply haven't had enough time to work on this fic as much as I would have liked to. And upon realized it has been so fucking long since I've posted the teaser, I decided to just split it into two parts to get something out, so I truly apologize for the very long wait! I do hope you enjoyed the read and please please let me know your thoughts on it <3
bonus of me going thru it in our chat lovingly named 'en-ct':
summary: ➸ ♡ To say that Lee Jeno is pretty would be an understatement. The man's gorgeous. One thing he uses to his advantage, going through college getting girls he spots his eyes on. But there's one he just couldn't get. His brother's bestfriend. You can continue and avoid your feelings for each other, but eventually, it'll happen. You were someone that stayed, a constant in his life. You might not know it, but for the years you've known Lee Jeno, he slowly became yours, inevitably.
"I should've known it was you, because no one else made sense."
GENRE: Angst, Fluff, Humour, Smut
WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Language, Slight Alcoholism, Mentions of Drugs/Weed, fuckboy!Jeno, brothersbsf!reader
AUTHOR's NOTE: Holy shit, it's done! I was about to pull all my hairs off for this one :// but i can finally say that it's all worth it! I hope y'all are still here. And I really wish y'all would like this story. Enjoy reading!
WC: 18 k (I tried my best)
DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.
Enjoy reading! -ryo
Lee Jeno is a phenomenon.
Jeno, on the other hand, likes to think he’s just a pretty boy who kinda knows how to dribble.
Maybe he’s not bad in the actual learning part too, maybe he did get an award for the research paper he did on Biochemistry last year. Maybe he won MVP on three consecutive basketball tournaments, making history in his school as the only player to excel in both the sports and academics.
So yeah. He’s a textbook definition of an A-list student that you would totally see in one of the frames along the halls of this very school in about thirty years, with the trophies and accolades he made during his time here.
You wanna hear what’s even more annoying?
He’s hot. And he knows it. Please, he’s so undeniably gorgeous it's starting to hurt.
Unlike his friends, Jeno keeps it on the down-low. Which was surprising because he had every right to be cocky and brag about all of his achievements but he’s the least show-y among his friends.
In Jeno’s defense, he likes to let his performance do all the talking.
Words on the street says he fucks like an incubus, but talks like an angel. He’s proven to be hung, emphasizing the word proven, based on the girls he had walking side to side after he spent a good, long night with them.
But despite all of that, he’s pretty cool and quiet most of the time.
Which is even more attractive. According to a study based on no-actual-facts, girls tend to like the quiet ones more. Especially when they look like a greek god that managed to escape mythology and then learned to be a legend in basketball instead. In simplified terms, girls like Lee Jeno.
Naturally, of course, girls are all over him. That's something really common between the four of his friends, and you're not shocked that Jeno sleeps around-- because he just can. Girls will literally faint in front of him if they could, just to get his attention.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, desperately trying to finish while a girl, known as Jennie, was bent over the counter. His hands covered her mouth, and to be frank, he just want this to be over with.
And of course, in typical fashion, Jennie is also a name most of the students are familiar with. Cheerleading captain, arguably a girl that’s expected to be with him. What makes it so easy, is that this girl is obsessed with Jeno.
Meanwhile Jeno, had no indication of being tied down. He likes hanging out with her sometimes, sure, but the girl’s way too much for him. Jeno likes being lowkey, despite being one of the most famous guy in campus, Jeno preferred to be outside the spotlight.
A couple more thrust, his eyes closed, mind far from the girl bent over in front of him who’s just desperately wanting to pleasure him, Jeno finishes. He murmured a curse, and as soon as the feeling of cumming washes off, guilt starts creeping in his veins as Jennie smiled in satisfaction as she fixes her uniform.
“God, you’re still so fucking good,” Jennie put her hands around Jeno’s neck, biting her lips in hopes to seduce the cold man in front of her.
“Come on, my brother’s gonna be here soon,” Jeno shrugged her hands off, fixing his shirt. He did not even get the chance to take it off, Jennie just went and got what she wanted as soon as she enters the apartment.
Don’t be mistaken tho, Jeno liked having sex, more so with a girl like Jennie. But Jeno’s consciousness can’t help and tell him that he’s stringing along this girl, knowing full well he’s not even one bit interested in pursuing a relationship with her.
Jennie never really cared about what he thinks tho, so that kinds of shaves a bit off of his guilt.
“Call me, okay?” Jennie tried to give him a kiss, but he’s fast enough to dodge it.
Jeno sighed as he walked the girl to the door. And in some wicked timing, his brother opened it, his step stuttering as he saw Jennie, but never minded the fact that the girl is walking side to side. Jisung, his brother, have seen this situation way too much before that it doesn’t shock him anymore.
Another footstep followed behind Jisung, You, not even sparing a glance over him, walking behind his brother. You looked bored, giving absolutely no interest over him or Jennie. He never really got bothered about it before. He’s just wondering when you started ignoring his existence like this.
You were nothing like the girl he witnessed growing up all these years.
The sweet smiles you used to offer him were all gone. The once cute little y/n that he knew were long gone. But what can he do, that’s just how it goes. Right?
People change. And you weren't an exception. But deep inside, Jeno has this unsettling sensation that hunts him at night. This isn’t you. You used to light up the room whenever you walked in. You used to make him believe in butterflies and rainbows and shit, but now, you’re just… there.
Jeno often wonders. But that’s about it. He’s way too much of a pussy to actually read through your chapters that led into this character you have now. So Jeno, the ever so nonchalant, settles in being curious– not concerned in finding answers.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You were twelve, when you met Jisung.
At first, you’re confused. There’s a new family that moved in next door. It was a common occurrence in your neighborhood, really. In your very-long life experience of twelve years, you’ve seen countless families moving in and out. So you question in your pretty little head why your Mom is way too excited about this next one.
Turns out, the family that will be moving in is your Mom’s best friend. You were twelve, you did not care about your Moms friends like that. Apparently, they’ve been best friends ever since they were five. They just kept in touch all these years.
“I'm Jisung,” the little boy, an inch taller than you, reached out his peculiarly large hands at you.
You felt your Mom nudge you a little bit, so in annoyance, you accepted his hand. “Y/n.”
Both mothers shrieked in excitement, but you were busy trying to examine this boy's hands.
Little did you know, that handshake would lead to years of friendship that you’d forever cherish, no matter how annoying this boy with freakishly large hands is.
“Who’s that?” You ask, still helping Jisung to count all his pokemon cards. You point outside their house, by the courtside next to their pool.
Jisung looks, but rolls his eyes after. “That’s my big brother, Jeno-hyung. He’s obsessed with basketballs.”
Your little twelve year old eyes sparkle, watching the boy shoot hoops around the court.
“Ew, you like boys?!” Jisung, disgusted.
“Your brother isn’t a boy, You’re a boy. He’s a man.” You sigh dreamily in sight of Jeno, making Jisung gag.
“He’s old, like, fourteen. Please, he’s a loser! Playing with balls all day,” Jisung says as he waves his hands in an attempt to distract you from his brother.
“Oh well…” you didn’t let it falter your adoration towards Jeno.
And before you could even watch him longer than you wished, Jisung’s mother called you two in for clubhouse sandwiches, and she made banger sandwiches so you really had to follow up to the kitchen.
You were fourteen, when you realized you had a crush on Jisung’s big brother.
“That’s bullshit, the paranormal movie is full of crap!” Chenle, your new found friend, complains as soon as the movie ends. His high pitched voice woke you up, not even realizing you had slept halfway through the movie.
“Dude, it’s from CCTV footage. It’s definitely true!” Jisung counters, and you just want to go back to sleep again.
The Paranormal Movie was mediocre, and maybe you were just a sceptic, but ghosts just doesn’t do it for you. “Most of these horror films really just depend on jumpscares to be scary.”
“Oh, coming from Miss Little poopy pants over here,”
The room went silence over Jisung’s attempt at a clapback, you and Chenle looking at each other before breaking into a laughing pit.
“Poopy pants? Really?” You say, refusing to believe that Jisung still used that term as an insult.
Jisung, obviously flustered, resorted in grabbing two cushions, one at each hands and started throwing them at the both of you.
“Just get the freaking potato chips downstairs.” Jisung says, specifically to you.
“What? No! I’m not going down there!” You say, as you bury yourself further on Jisung’s bed.
“Because you’re scared?” Chenle, in a mocking tone. You flip him off, to try and cover the fact that you are scared because it’s night time and the lights are off.
“No, ghosts aren’t real. Why can’t Chenle go?” You whine even more.
“He already got the drinks, and this is my house so what I say goes!” Jisung grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the bed.
And because you like proving your point that ghosts aren’t real, you let out a grunt, stomping your way out of Jisung's room.
Your way down the stairs goes smoothly, the light still being on. But as soon as you turn to the dark kitchen, that’s when it creeps in. Yes, you do not believe in ghosts, but you’d be fooling yourself if you say that being alone in the large empty kitchen didn’t scare you.
“Oh, god.” You whisper to yourself, as you desperately find the chips cabinet. Rummaging through as quiet as possible, but also trying to find it as soon as possible.
But when a noise from the table interrupts the creepy silence, you can’t help but yelp out a scream.
“Oh my gosh!”
You turn your head towards the table, just to find a cute little cat that had lost its way through the big surface.
“Thank God it was just a little cat,” you say in relief, but as soon as you try and step closer to it, a name being called from the stairs can be heard.
“Bongsik-ah!”
So it has a name. Bongsik.
A figure walks down the stairs, obviously, being Jeno.
You immediately fold into yourself, biting your lip as soon as he enters the kitchen.
“What are you doing down here?” He says as he carries the cat off the table and on his chest. It took a couple of seconds for him to look at you, and he smiles.
“Y/n-ie. Do you need something from the kitchen?” His soft voice snaps you from the trance, as he helps you with the chips you were trying to get from the upper cabinet. His body was so close to you as he did so, that you swear you can feel his heart beating.
“Y-yeah.. Just those chips. Thanks.” Your entire demeanor changes when it comes to him.
“Here you go,” He says softly, you wonder if he intentionally talks to you like that, or it’s just how he talks. A little bit inside you likes to believe you’re special and that he does this only to you.
“Thanks, uh– new cat?” You say in the most casual tone you could ever produce.
“Yep, a rescue. Mom brought it home the other day. Jisung freaked,” He chuckles as he looks at the cat, snuggling in his chest.
You awe in sight, wanting to pet the cat but you hesitated at first.
“You can pet it,” Jeno moves his body to yours, to allow you to pet Bongsik. You did so, and when the cat purrs at your touch, you gasp in awe.
“Hi Bongsik,” you say in a whisper, intended for the cat only. But you can feel Jeno smile at you.
“You can visit her everyday, not that you’re not here everyday, but she’s gonna be here starting now..”
“She’s adorable,” you say, still petting the cat in his arms.
“I love cats, any pet really. But cats just really bring out the inner softness in me, y’know?” Him being this close to you feels weird and intimate, but it's not like you hate it. Your heart is practically doing jumping-jacks right now.
You use him focusing on Bongsik as an excuse to look at him, even just a glance.
You get a closer look on his face, the mole he has under his left eye, the thin lips and his perfect nose. In the two seconds you allow yourself to take a peek, you convince yourself that you had his features memorized now.
You can just feel that it’s just gonna live with you forever.
Because as he takes Bongsik away and starts walking back up the stairs, you make a big-girl realization that you do have a crush on Lee Jeno.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno was woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. It was his brother, Jisung, calling in the middle of the night asking for his keys.
“What do you need my car for?” Jeno, frustrated as he grabs his keys from the night stand.
“My car broke down and Y/N really needs to get home.” Jisung on the other line also sounded like he just woke up. Jeno curses under his breath.
This wasn’t the first time he heard his brother in trouble with you being the main source of chaos. It’s always the same thing. Either you’re black-out drunk, or one of your boyfriends has dumped you on the side of the street.
Over the years, you had changed so drastically it almost gave him a whiplash. You used to be so careful and so paranoid about drinking, waiting until you turn 18 to get a sip of alcohol. And when you did, it’s like you never stopped.
So despite Jeno’s interrupted slumber, he gets up and leaves his shared apartment with his friends, just to wait outside his building for his brother. And surely, just like every other time this has happened before, he finds Jisung standing there in the cold.
“I need my car tomorrow, in pristine condition. One scratch and you’re done,” Jeno, tossing the car keys to his brother.
Jisung didn’t bother to answer, depicting the reality of brotherhood. But before Jisung could leave, Jeno turns to him.
“What happened this time?”
“She’s really–”
“Drunk?” Jeno finishes his sentence, as if he had seen this before. Jisung sighs in agreement.
“--yeah, and Chenle’s drunk too so he can’t drive her back to the apartment.”
“What happened to her? She isn’t really like this, at all.” Jeno dared to indulge in one of his curiosities.
“I’ve been asking the same question, hyung.” Jisung ends the conversation without really answering Jeno’s question, which frustrated him more.
Because of course, nobody really knows what happened. It’s a question he needs to ask you, directly. Only if you didn’t spend the last few years avoiding being on the same vicinity as him, then maybe he could actually talk to you.
“Three seconds left on the clock, Lee, for the three.. He shoots… and bang! Lee Jeno has done it again!”
Jeno thinks it’s getting way too easy for him. Winning at this point just felt like a routine for him. The new normal, it’s just how it goes around him now. Everytime the other team makes a mistake of letting him have the ball, the game ends with Jeno taking home the win.
Honestly, it’s getting pretty boring and predictable.
“That’s my fuckin’ man!” Yangyang, one of his teammates, excitedly hugs Jeno as he entered yet again another victory party for his team. It’s his second one this semester.
“Okay, dude, chill.” Jeno pushes the very drunk Yangyang away, afraid of getting thrown up on.
As he sinks his feet deeper into the party, he starts getting loose. The alcohol hitting the tense spot in his body, reminding him that fuck it, he’s the man of the evening. This party is for him. So why not have fun, right?
The music starts to sound less chaotic and more tolerable, and the people start to get blurry. Weed and alcohol really does the trick, Jeno thinks.
“Jeno, the man of the hour! That game was lit!” Jeno’s not sure who’s this man, but nevertheless, he still smiled at him and let him dap him up. He blabbers more and more about Jeno’s career path in professional basketball but just like always, Jeno just dismiss it.
It’s too early to plan for the future. He’s enjoying what he has now and content on just thinking about what happens today.Tomorrow is tomorrow’s problem, and he can’t be bothered to be bothered about what his future brings.
Some people likes to think they know what’s best for Jeno, and sometimes it does make sense, Jeno getting to the professional basketball league, in tune to what he does best now. But fuck that. Jeno doesn’t want to be in a box full of other people’s expectation of him.
“Jaemin’s not here?” Jeno finds relief to hear Renjun’s voice, one of his very few trusted people. In some way, knowing Renjun was here by his side, it made him feel that he’s okay.
“Yeah.. he’s still locking himself out.” Jeno answers.
Jaemin was his best friend first, and he knows Jaemin well. And for the first time, he knows Jaemin really do need time for himself. This isn’t something Jeno could fix, he knows when to step away. So he lets Jaemin be.
“Haechan?”
Jeno saw Haechan earlier but he’s not sure where he is now. That’s just how he is. He’s probably in one of the rooms upstairs, on his way to ‘pound town’ in Haechan’s terms.
In typical Jeno fashion, he tolerates some annoying congratulations for a bit, give fake smiles and forced handshakes before finding his way to escape the crowd. Although it’s difficult because again, this party is thrown for him and his team, he still finds a way.
And that way has a name. Yunjin.
“Ah, Jeno,”
At the back of the party, there's a huge backyard, large enough that if he’s with this girl fucking around at the very end of it, he’s sure no one will notice. His hands roam freely against the girl, letting her know his full intention. Not like she has no clue, the hands up her skirt gave her enough hints.
“Hmm,” Jeno hums, just to satisfy the girl’s pleas.
But before it gets further, a rustle of the grass made him stop his tracks.
Someone’s here.
“Wh–what happened,” Yunjin was confused as to why he suddenly stopped.
Jeno furrows his brows, and tries to look at whoever was on the back of the big oak tree.
“Sorry! Sorry– fuck, carry on, please!”
The familiar pitch of voice made Jeno move away from Yunjin. He knows who it is behind the tree. And he suddenly has no interest in going home with Yunjin.
You stumbled out of your hiding with a bottle of alcohol on your right hand, your left trying to pathetically cover your eyes as you tried to walk.
Jeno hates it. He fucking hates how drunk you are right now.
“Oh shit, Jeno!” You peek at the gap in your fingers that was covering your eyes, to see him looking at you with a mix of emotion you can’t make out. He’s not angry, but he’s definitely not amused.
“I–,” you burped, “I’m not here..” you followed with a laugh, finding all these hilarious.
“Don’t mind me!” you laugh again.
Jeno murmured a curse. “Yejin, I’m sorry but I need to go,” he says in finality, not even waiting for the girl to answer as he walks straight in your direction.
“It’s Yunjin! Ugh!” The last words he hears from the girl before she stomps away.
He shakes his head as tried grabbing your arm, to help you at least find a stable balance. He grabs the alcohol out of your grasp harshly.
“Hey, what the fuck!” You whined. You tried to chase the bottle, but with his hold on your arms, you failed to do so.
“Y/n, please, fucking stay still. You’re very drunk!” He says in a strict but stable voice, not wanting to rile you up even more.
“Give me it,” You whined again, much softer this time, and with no attempt at grabbing the bottle.
He looks at your struggling figure, eyes almost closing as you stumble against his hold.
“Ah, fuck it,” he curse one more time before propping you off your feet, carrying you in a bridal style.
“Hey, get me– Oh my gosh! Help!” You yell, but followed with a giggle, which made the people around you think that the situation is not something to be worried about. And they know you and Jeno, so him carrying you just makes sense.
He hates this version of you. He hates how this character you have is so far from what he knew you from. He hates that you find comfort in drinking, partying and sleeping with other men. He hates that whatever happened, it completely changed you. He hates that he cares.
“What the fuck are you staring at?” Jeno can’t help but to lash out at some people who gives him and you a judgemental look. He despises people who judge you.
He finds an empty room upstairs, and he puts you down gently. You dress is up to your waist now, so Jeno pulled it down. He opened his phone to text his brother to let him know you’re with him. He knows Jisung will be worried at your whereabouts. He also texted Chenle, to make sure that they know you’re safe.
He grabs a clean washcloth out the bathroom, and soaks it with cold water.
“I’m not… I am drunk.” You say, swaying your head left to right as you lay in the bed, trying to grab at whatever’s the softest around you.
He sat a foot away from you, but still reached his hands to your face to gently caress you with the soaked towel. This might help sober you up.
Speaking of being sober, Jeno entirely forgets that he’s also intoxicated. For some reason, he sobered up. Seeing you in this state made him think that he needed to straighten up and get you out of here.
“What the fuck are you doing to yourself, y/n..” he says under his breath, as he gently brushes the towel on your face. Seeing you deep in sleep now, he sighed.
You used to be so bubbly. You were sweet as honey, as bright as the sun. He still remembers how your eyes lit up every time you would talk to him. As he looks at you right now, it’s still the same features, the soft ones he grew to know, but he knows that once you wake up, you’d be a stranger again.
He sighed in defeat, and stood up. He was about to get water for you, before the door opened.
“Jeno,” It revealed Qian Kun, a man he heard is your boyfriend. Not sure about the boyfriend part, but he’s sure that he hangs out with you a lot these days.
Kun was his senior, basically the smartest man on this campus. Famous for his 5.0 GPA, this Kun guy really is a genius. He used to get notes from him, back when he was writing for his research paper. He had no idea how you two met, but it’s really not his business.
“She was in the backyard, drunk as fuck.” Jeno says, looking at your peaceful figure.
“Alright. I’ll take it from here,” Kun says, walking past him, around the bed to get to your side.
He can hear Kun murmur a pet name as he caresses your hair. Jeno felt the need to roll his eyes.
“Next time, keep an eye on her. If you can’t handle her, maybe you shouldn’t be with her at all.” Jeno didn’t care if he sounded harsh. He needs to let Kun know that you need to be taken care of properly.
“You don’t know her, Lee. So I suggest, keep your mouth shut and mind your own business.” Kun snapped back, standing up to look back at Jeno.
“Oh, I knew her long before you did. But I agree, she’s your business. I just hate to fucking deal with it because you can’t fucking seem to do it yourself.” With that, Jeno walks out the room.
And even if Jeno sounded secure, he can’t lie and say that leaving you with another man didn’t affect him, even just one bit.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Looks from other people don't budge you at all.
They can stare at you, even whisper some bullshit about you, you really don’t give a shit. There’s nothing they can say that you’ve not said to yourself.
“You really should take it slow with the alcohol, y/n.” The first thing Jisung said as you sat down beside him. You rolled your eyes, and looked at him.
“Not you too,” You say rather exhaustedly.
“Especially me too. I’m your bestfriend and I’m just worried.” Jisung wasn’t the type to give out unsolicited advice, a serious one at that, therefore you sighed.
“It’s college, Jisung. We’re supposed to have fun.”
“Not to a point where other people have to take care of you.” That came out rather harsher than what Jisung had intended, but you really need it. You know it too. You just refuse to believe it.
“You don’t have to take care of me.”
“If not me, then who? You’ve been passed out drunk for the third time this week, y/n. I don’t know what definition of fun you have, but I think it’s not this.” Jisung was scarily serious now. You blink to try and process the seriousness of the situation.
You gulp, realizing that Jisung isn’t in the mood for your snarky comments right now. “Alright, damn. I’ll take it down a notch..” you say and look away from him.
You can’t blame Jisung for acting like this. You know that you’re spiraling down, you just refuse to accept it. In your head, this is just how college life goes. You get drunk, have sex and maybe a little bit of homework here and there. In your head, this is how it should be.
In a fucked up world, it is. But your world is already fucked up. So in a way, it just makes sense. To you.
“You have to get better,” Kun’s words rang in your head.
“This is the best I can, Kun. Chemistry isn’t really my thing,” you turn your homework down at Kun’s table. You were here after class, hoping to get help from Kun.
Despite popular belief, Kun isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too fucked up to commit into a relationship, no matter how good Kun is. Matter of fact, Kun is just the perfect man for that role. You can see yourself going straight with him, like your life might just take a turn for the better.
However, no matter how evil you see yourself as, you’re not that evil to give Kun the burden to have you as a girlfriend. You can’t do that to him.
And you did clarify that to him before sleeping with him. That whatever you have, just had to stay that way. He can’t expect something more. Surprisingly, he agreed. Qian Kun, the guy that has so much credentials because of his undeniable intelligence, the guy who rejected Harvard and Stanford, agreed to have a stupid set-up with a girl that’s one step away from actually losing it. Why?
You have absolutely no idea.
“I’m not talking about your homework, my love.” He says, sighing. You know that sigh very well.
You look at him, your eyes stoic as they can be. “We’re not having this conversation.”
Kun closed his eyes as he let out a deep breath. “You need to have this conversation. Lee Jeno had to carry you upstairs, in front of everyone last night. You were so drunk that you threw up all over yourself and you think that’s okay?”
Oh, so that’s what happened. He had to rescue you. Out of all people, of course it had to be him.
“Look, Kun, I didn’t come here to be judged. I was stupid for drinking that much, I know. But it’s not gonna happen again.” You say matter-of-factly. This is the second time this day that you had to promise to someone that you’ll be drinking responsibly. You feel like everyone is ganging up on you.
“Okay, sweetheart. Okay, calm down.” You didn’t know you were standing up until Kun pulled you from your wrist to sit back down.
Kun smiled at you and kissed your forehead, before sliding your homework back in front of you again and clicking his pen. “Let me see your answers…”
You’re glad he decided to drop the topic, but before you could even say thank you, an aggressive knock on Kun’s office got both of you to look up.
“Y/N! I know you’re in there! Qian, open your fucking door!”
You widen your eyes. “Fuck, it’s Yeonjun!” you say, standing up and grabbing your purse.
Kun looks at you, before looking back at the door. You can tell he had a very concerned face, but as soon as another man’s name fell out of your lips, he knew right away what situation you’re in. He pinched the bridge of his nose due to stress, and stood up.
“What is it this time?” He asks, not that he needed to.
“He’s just… Ugh, I told him we were over!” You say, feeling bad that this situation is happening in front of Kun. The knocks are turning more aggressive.
“Y/N, you slut!” Another loud bang from the door.
“I’ll deal with him.” Kun says. You immediately shake your head in disagreement.
“No! I’ll go. You don’t need to–”
“I’m not letting that man harass you, y/n—”
“No, Kun. I’m not letting you deal with my problems anymore.” Before Kun could even say anything, you opened up the door to see a very angry Yeonjun.
Kun rushed to your side, but you didn’t let him get in contact with Yeonjun and slammed the door shut.
“You’re gonna ghost me and you think that’s funny?” Yeonjun seemed to calm down, seeing you in front of him.
There’s quite a crowd that’s forming in the hallway, some have their phones out, some whispering whilst looking at you two. Not that you care.
“Let’s talk outside—”
“Yes, you’re coming with me after I punch that–” Before Yeonjun could even finish saying it, you looked him straight in the eyes, pointing at him.
“You’re not touching Kun,” you say, full of conviction. If there’s anything you could do for Kun, its that you will protect him from getting tangled with your mess.
You pulled his wrist to get him out of the building.
At the end of the day, there’s one thing that could shut these kinds of men up. It’s getting real easy, one thing you do for them and they’ll behave like a dog. It’s getting laughable, really.
So you shut them up. By doing what you do best.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You were sixteen, when you got your heart broken for the first time.
“Stop looking at my brother, you weirdo.” Jisung threw a pillow towards your position on the couch.
The soft object hit you right in the noggin, earning a grunt as you pulled your eyes off of him.
“Bitch. It’s not my fault he’s getting hotter by the day. Damn,”
You were busy staring out the pool area, where Jeno and his friends are hanging out. You were at Jisung’s place, spending your summer in the most boring ways.
Good thing Jeno’s gorgeous self is here, entertaining you. He’s so pretty, you could just eat him up.
“No he’s not. He’s a nerd!” Jisung fights back, earning a smirk from you.
“Says the one who's summer plans are to play league of legends until he becomes a ‘Challenger’ .” You retort, cranking your neck back to where Jeno was.
You recognize his friends, of course. They’re starting to gain popularity in the school, especially when Jeno got on the basketball team.He’s been working out a lot, gaining extra muscles, toning his body to get even hotter. If that’s even possible.
“Eugh, Jisung, y/n’s drooling over Jeno-hyung again.” Chenle enters the conversation, with a soda in his hand and plops himself on the couch.
“I am not drooling!”
“I got something you can drool on.” Chenle’s awful snark earns a hefty punch on his shoulder from you, the boy laughing in a high-pitch tone that makes it even more annoying than it is.
“Anyways, I think he likes me too.” You sigh dreamily, remembering the things Jeno does to you specifically.
He always carries your bags for you. He’s always the first person to welcome you into their house, and the first person to ask if you’ve had breakfast yet. He offers you rides to school when he sees you walking, and he always asks how your day has been. He’s so charming, so nice and you just can’t help but give at least a little bit of malice into it.
I mean, there has to be something, right?
“Oh she’s crazy. She’s fucking insane!” Chenle dramatically gasps, and points at you like you’ve committed a crime.
“That is seriously concerning, y/n. The level of delusion– my god.” Jisung joins in, as he pauses his game to look back and judge you.
“You two are just haters. Get off my ass!” You flip them off, with two hands, each one gets a middle finger from you.
“Look, y/n, we’re just sparing you from getting your little heart broken. Jeno-hyung does not like you.” Chenle’s tone becomes more serious this time, but in your head, he’s wrong. If Jeno didn’t like you, then why would he get out his way just to walk you home whenever you leave their house way too late?
“Seriously. You guys, I really think he’s the one for me. I mean, I can’t really think of any other reason as to why he’s so kind to me, y’know?”
Jisung looked at Chenle as if he really cannot believe what he’s hearing from you. Chenle shakes his head left to right, disappointment spread all over his face.
A set of laughter broke your conversation as you three faced out the pool side, to see Jeno and his friends now actually playing in the pool. Jeno then went on the edge, the ones in front of the back door where you were looking from, and pulled himself out of the water.
The trinkets of water dripping in his hair was one thing, but his wet body being revealed in front of you, the perfect curve of his shoulders down to his small waist, and the veins in his arms definitely woke something up in you.
“Yeah… I’ll confess to him tonight.” your voice almost sounded strange, like you were in a hypnotic state, still mesmerized by Jeno.
“Jesus christ, y/n–” before Jisung finishes, Chenle interrupts.
“Dude, let her. This is her canon event.”
You had no idea what that means, and you’re not interested to know. One thing’s in your mind, Jeno will be yours by midnight.
9:56pm
It’s like the heavens planned it all out for you.
Jeno’s friends all left, as to your surprise, because you thought they’d at least spend the night. Jeno had always offered to let his friends stay, but this time, he asked them to leave before 6. Which is odd, yes, but this all favors you in a way.
Chenle and Jisung still visibly opposed to your idea, and you’re sure they had reason to think its not gonna work out, but it’s not like it matters to you.
Whilst the three of you are in Jisung’s room, you can hear the TV on the lounge area. Their parents are out of town this summer, something about a cruise, so that means, it has to be Jeno.
In your mind, it’s the perfect timing. It’s deep in the evening, the moon’s out, and there’s never been an opportunity where you’re brave enough to actually confess.
Your heartbeat notches another tempo, as you leave Jisung’s room, much to the two’s dismay.
Before you could get to the lounge area, you’d have to pass the kitchen first.
A couple more steps, your feet turning cold, but you still managed. But before you can get a glimpse on the couch, your name was called.
“Y/n?” It’s him. Fuck, it’s him!
Okay, so he’s in the kitchen. That’s fine. Take a deep breath, You just gotta talk to him!
“Jeno,”
You took a step closer to where he was, and he’s looking extra delectable with his white shirt and grey sweatpants. Not that there’s been a moment where he didn’t look good.
“Are you going home? Ask Jisung to walk you home, I kinda—“
“Jeno, I want to talk to you, actually.” Now your voice trembles, and you’re starting to feel nervous.
“Oh, okay. Sure, what’s up?” Jeno looks to be still oblivious to your anxious state. He puts down the wine that he was holding, and turned to you completely.
You gulped, finally looking up to his eyes. He had a shadow of smile on them, but was still curious on what you had to say. You're mere two feet away from him, yet his musky scent still invades your nose.
God, all of that can be yours.
“But you’d have to say it fast because I have—”
“I like you. Very much.”
The deafening silence engulfs you, and only the sound of your heartbeat was prominent. Him, on the other hand, eyes wide, mouth ajar.
“—and I know this is so sudden but I’ve liked you ever since we were kids. I’ve always thought you were cute and nice to me!” You tried to fill in the silence, because every second that passed with him not saying anything kills you.
Another second passed, and your nervousness is long gone, because it was replaced by an impending doom.
“Y/n, look, I really appreciate it but… I-I’m just being nice.. I have to be nice. You’re my brother’s best friend—”
Fuck, shit, fuck! This cannot be happening!
“Oh, my, god!”
A high pitched voice behind you tores the tension in the air, and when you looked back, you saw Eunmi, with an amused look in her face, then covering her mouth with her hands.
She let out a laugh, as if he finds all of this ridiculous.
All of a sudden, you can’t breathe. Your heart was about to explode as you looked back at where Jeno was, seeing two wine glasses behind him. The movie in the background, still playing.
And it all just stops.
“That’s so cute!” Eunmi screeched, before walking towards Jeno and snaking her arms around him.
“Babe, I was wondering why it’s taking so long, you didn’t tell me this girl is pouring her heart out to you! Awe,”
You can feel your eyes warming up. You had so much left to say. But your voice can’t be found. The heart ache was too loud for you to even utter a word.
And in the end, all you could say was, “I’ll.. go home.”
Then you were gone, every step with every tear drop, and although you expected it to hurt, it still surprises you how painful it was.
You’re glad he didn’t run after you. You can’t be more pathetic than this, but it would kill you for him to witness your vulnerability.
Jeno was your first love.
And then Jeno became your first heartbreak.
With all the smiles he brought you, you never thought he could cause you so many tears.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Is it wrong to be this young and this tired?
You look at yourself in the mirror, analyzing every inch of your body. On the contrary, you don’t hate what you see. You’ve worked so hard to attain the body that you have now, and you’re satisfied where you’re at.
But there’s an empty feeling in your stomach that never left, and you can’t seem to figure out what it is. It’s always been there.
“Get back to bed,” You hear a disgruntled sound from the bed, and immediately your smile fades. You’re pulled back to reality, one that you hated to be in.
“I’m going home,” you say, before grabbing your clothes and putting them back on.
You don’t know why you do this, but you wait before walking out the door, for a sliver of a second to see if the man on the bed even attempts to ask you to stay. And just what you expected, he didn’t.
Sometimes you wish you’re worthy of being asked to stay, but who were you kidding.
There’s a deep routed scar that you’ve been trying so hard to cover. You like to think that the antidote that you have for it works, but the way you’ve been stuck in the same situation all over again says otherwise.
You thought you were healing, but the truth is, you just stopped feeling.
All your life is ahead of you, they say. But yours feels far behind.
You don’t really know where you went wrong, you thought if you became pretty, everybody would like you. You thought that if you agreed to sleep with them, they’d appreciate you. You thought that if you change your entire personality, they would start to see you.
Where did you go wrong? You dyed your hair blonde, you worked your body to achieve the hourglass figure and you even went ahead and let every man that looks your way to have you. Isn’t that enough?
See, this is why you hate being sober. You hate being alone with your thoughts, because it drowns you. You start thinking of things that overwhelms you to the point of tears, and you hate crying. You’ve already done too much of that before.
So why does everybody hate you for drinking? If that’s the only escape you know? It isn’t fair.
“I’m losing my mind,” you say, biting your nails and jerking your knees in frustration.
“Jesus, you’re like a crack addict without crack for a day.” Chenle says as he looks at you.
“She hasn’t had alcohol in a week,” Jisung says as if he’s proud, smiling at you.
You roll your eyes. You’ve been trying to stray off alcohol ever since Jisung and Kun asked you to. You ought to at least try, because you owe them that. On the latter part, if it didn’t work, and you spiral out, you can at least say that you tried.
“Ah, fuck it.” You say, but before Jisung freaks, you clarify, “I’m just gonna smoke for a bit, grandpa.” You say and dashed out of his dorm, down to the parking lot.
It’s winter, and the snow has already covered the streets. The cold was always your favorite season, it gives you reason to just stay inside and cuddle up in your cozy room.
You open up a new packet of cigarettes as you stand outside basking in winter air. It’s especially windy today, you thought.
The heat of the smoke traveling through your lungs was refreshing. It rivals the coldness of the wind, creating a balance that hits you just right. A perfect combination of sensation to combat the numbness in you.
Before the light hits the filter of the cigarette, you hear a screeching sound to your left.
It was a car, no, it was his car.
You mentally curse, throwing the unfinished stick to your feet and stomping on it. You frantically try to walk back up the building, but as you hear the car door slamming, you take a deep breath.
“Smoking’s really bad for you,” Jeno says, walking towards your direction.
“You basically run off of weed and gatorade, Jeno.”
Although you did try your best to keep walking, Jeno catched up in a couple of steps. You stood together waiting for the elevator.
“Is Chenle upstairs, too?” He starts.
“Yeah. Congrats on the game, Jeno. Sorry I had to ruin your night,” you followed it with a slight laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Nah, it’s fine. Didn’t wanna stay in that party anyways,”
The elevator finally dings open, you hesitate to move at first, but when Jeno enters the lift and looks at you, you take this as a sign to walk in with him. So walk in you did.
“Kun took care of you, right?” He asks. You badly wanted to look at him, but you chose not to.
“Yeah.. he’s a great guy.” You silently say, not feeling good about the conversation.
“Hm,” he paused. The suspicious tone made you look at him, anticipating what comes out of his mouth next.
“I saw you walking out of Yeojun's dorm last night tho.” He says as if it was nothing, as if it was a little detail he had to tell you. But the underlying idea behind his statement was obvious.
You hitched your breath. No, y/n. Fight back.
“What can I say, I’m booked and busy.”
“You’re— that’s not something to be proud of, y/n.” He states as if he’s running out of patience, now looking back at you.
You smirked wider, “Oh don’t be a hypocrite, Jeno. You do the same damn thing,”
He grunts in frustration. “Yes but you’re different, y/n!”
8… 9….
“Different in what way? Because I’m a woman? And this isn’t what women do? Don’t give me that bullshit,”
“Fuck that, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m just protecting you from what people think about you.”
10… 11… 12…
“Jeno, I want you to listen to me carefully.” You took another step closer to him, looking up to level your face with his. “—whatever you heard about me, I want you to times it by a million, and when you think it’s bad, make it worse.” You whispered.
You tilt your head to hover your lips on his ear, “And guess what, who knows, maybe they’re telling the truth.”
And as soon as the elevator hits the 15th floor, you walk out without looking back.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You were a lost cause.
Jeno thought he just needed to accept the fact that you’re just never gonna be the same.
He doesn’t know why it bothered him so much, the fact that you’re not letting anyone help you. It never bothered him before, and so, it shouldn’t bother him now.
It’s not his fault that you turned out to be this way. It’s not his fault.
So he distracts himself. Both in ways of basketball and women.
He tried to go back to his old ways, back to where he’s safe. He was doing fine, before you plagued his system. Plus, it’s not like he didn’t try, he damn did try.
Maybe this version of you is the real you. Maybe this is what’s meant to be.
“Holy fuck,” Haechan eyes the woman who walks out of Jeno’s room, obviously checking her out. Jeno just rolled his eyes and spread his arms around the back of the couch. Dragging a long hit of the weed he seemed to never get run out of.
“That’s the third girl this week, Jeno. Are you trying to break my record?” Haechan scoffed, as if proud of his friend.
“I’m not trying to break anything, but if you want, I’d gladly break your nose.”
Haechan put both his hands up, taking a step back because out of all of them, Jeno’s the one who could really do it. And he’s not trying to risk his beautiful face.
“Dude, this is bad.” Renjun was the second one to comment, following Haechan. He looked at Jeno’s state, and he can tell something’s not right. There’s something bothering Jeno, and Renjun can’t exactly tell what.
He had an idea, but he’s sure as hell won’t tell it to Jeno’s face.
“What? I have two weeks before the game. I need to relax.” Jeno says, ignoring the concern in Renjun’s face.
“And this is relaxing to you?” Renjun grabs an empty bottle of beer, one of the many that’s scattered all over the place.
Jeno didn’t answer, letting a sigh out of his lips and closing his eyes. He can’t think straight right now, or in the past week. He had been sleeping with different girls, to the point where he ran out of bed sheets to use. His room stinks of sweat and axe body spray, and he can’t seem to be satisfied, at all.
“I don’t know, Junnie. Just… leave me alone.” At this moment, Renjun can’t help but sigh. It's these kinds of moments where he knows that Jeno needs someone. Where the one month gap in their age really shines and Jeno needs his older brother, Renjun.
He puts down the plastic bag of trash and sat beside Jeno. “Look, Jeno. I’m not gonna sit here and ask you what this is about, but this is starting to look really sad. Jaemin is already down, and I don’t need you broken too. I can’t handle Haechan by myself,” Renjun, in an attempt to lighten up the mood.
“Junnie, just let me be, okay? I swear.. this will pass.”
“I sure hope it would. Because you can’t fix someone if you’re broken yourself. That’s just plain dumb.”
He grunts, and cursed deeply because he know’s Renjun’s right. But how can he, when it feels like he’s stuck? When has everything, but he feels like he’s got nothing? He has a great future ahead of him, he knows that, but why does it feel like something’s missing?
Girls, money, fame. What more could he want?
In a split second, Jeno regrets asking himself that question. Because he feel like he knows the answer, but he really doesn’t like it.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
“Lee Jeno, what the fuck was that?!”
Yangyang pushed Jeno, but instead of fighting back, Jeno just shook his head. He raked his fingers across his hair as he sat at the bleachers.
Thank fuck this isn’t the actual university game. Because if it was, they’d for sure lose the first quarter and Jeno will have his first ever loss written on his otherwise squeaky clean reputation.
“Don’t fucking yell at my face.” Jeno’s voice thundered.
“Five hundred dollars are at stake, and Minho would not let us live if you lose against him, Jeno.” Yangyang’s voice was a lot more controlled, but still angry, nonetheless.
“Man, I don’t really care.” Jeno let out an unenthusiastic chuckle, drinking out of his tumbler.
“What?” Yangyang feels like he’s mistaken. Lee Jeno doesn’t care if he loses? In a basketball game, that is? Oh he truly thinks the world has turned upside down.
Before he could even ask his friend again, Minho starts shouting from the other side of the court.
“What, Lee Jeno? The magic doesn’t work now, doesn’t it?” Minho yells, earning a laugh from his teammates.
“Fuck you! Games not over, bitch!” Yangyang yells back, full of confidence but looked back at Jeno, worry splattered in his face.
“Dude, I swear, we need to put that son of a bitch back in his place!” Yangyang angrily whispers.
“I’m gonna sit this one out, Yang–”
“How about we bet on that y/n girl?! Your brother’s friend, right? Heard she spreads it open to just about anyone who looks at her funny!”
Without even thinking, Jeno’s fast on his feet, and his vision turns red. His fist curled up and his logical thinking was out of the window. His vision is straight at Minho, and his only thought is to knock this bitch out.
Yangyang couldn’t even process anything, as he watches Jeno’s eyes darkens and before any of his teammates could even try and stop Jeno, his fist already connects with Minho’s face. The boy fell down, immediately knocked out, and chaos between both teams ensues. But Jeno didn’t stop.
He’s not letting Minho get up.
“Jeno, slow the fuck down.” He heard a concerned voice at the corner of the nearby club he went to. His feet dragged him here after the incident, wanting to drown himself with anything that could take away his mind from everything.
One shot, two shots, three shots, four.
“I’m paying you, Doyoung, aren’t I?” Jeno says, rolling his eyes at the older man in front of him.
Doyoung was another person Jeno trusts. Besides the three idiots back in his apartment, Doyoung is also the one Jeno’s comfortable with.
“Yes, but I don’t want to report an alcohol poisoning inside my bar, Jeno.” Doyoung can tell Jeno’s done for the night. Slumped over his counter, he forces the shot glass out of Jeno’s hold.
He signals one of his co-bartenders to take over the bar for a bit, before dragging Jeno’s body out of the bar. He notices the bruising at the boy’s hand but he didn’t say anything and drove Jeno home.
“I don’t want to go back to my apartment, Haechan’s there with a girl,” Jeno mumbled, slowly getting more and more sober as the fresh air wakes him up.
“Where’d you want me to bring you then?” Doyoung asked.
“I don’t know… fuck.. just, bring me back to my brother’s.”
Thankfully, Doyoung knew Jisung’s apartment. He’s close with both of the brothers, often being mistaken as a brother as well. But after graduating, he just naturally went off and did other things.
Doyoung huffs as soon as he successfully brought Jeno in front of Jisung’s apartment, however, another problem was that Jisung isn’t answering the phone.
“Jeno, I really can’t stay here with you, I just sneaked out of my shift,” he explains, but Jeno just dismissed him and nods. Doyoung knocks at the door before he left, making sure that if there was a person inside, they’d open the door for Jeno.
Jeno wasn’t as drunk as earlier, that’s for sure. What’s left is the pounding headache plus the fact that no one’s opening the door for him.
Out of sheer frustration, he kicks the door, strong enough to make a banging sound but not hard enough to damage it.
“Fucking Jisung,” he murmured to himself, almost turning his heels to walk out, but before he could, rattling on the other side of the door can be heard.
Jeno sighs in relief, but seconds after it opened, what greets him almost knocks the breath out of his lungs.
“Shit, Jeno.” Your soft voice matched your soft expression as you look at him with obvious shock.
Jeno, on the other hand, didn’t want to extend the painful awkward silence.
“I-Is my brother there?” Stuttering was never Jeno’s thing. Until this moment, he thinks.
“He’s… he’s like, I think at a girls place somewhere… fuck, I think her name’s Jieun or some shit..” Your eyes take turns in blinking, but still standing straight— conflicting the idea that you’re drunk. Well, at least not y/n drunk.
“Then why are you here?” He didn’t know why, but his hands automatically grabs the door knob to swing the door more open to see if you’re inside with somebody.
He just needs to know you’re alone.
“I crash here sometimes… when I’m locked out of my apartment.” You shoulders where slumped, words were coming out slow. Jeno can tell you’re not sober.
He can’t say shit because he’s not in an exactly sober state as well. So he just proceeds to walk past you to enter the dorm.
Technically, Jisung’s place is his place too. Their parents fixed it up for the two of them but Jeno chose to stay over at his shared apartment with the other boys. So he can do whatever he wants to do.
The entire place reeks of weed, and the floor has two empty bottles of Soju. He almost threw up, he hates Soju.
“Jesus fucking christ, Jisung.” He murmured as he picks up the trash, forgetting that you were standing behind him baffled.
“I’m sorry about that…” Of course it’s yours. Of course you’ve been drinking again. Fuck him for thinking that it’s his brother’s fault. Because it’s would always be you.
Jeno stays quiet. He’s not in the best mood to even look at you. Everything that’s been happening to him recently is because of you. He hates that he blames you, but he can’t just think of someone else.
“Jeno...” Your soft voice calls for him again. It took everything from him to ignore you, and walk back to the kitchen and throw all the trash away.
He’s hanging by a thread, and he starts to realize it’s a bad idea to stay here for long.
He takes a deep breath and walks towards the door, but before that, he felt a tight grip in his arms.
“Jeno.. talk to me.” The sultry voice you had did not go unnoticed, and Jeno couldn’t help but stop his tracks.
Don’t break, Jeno.
“Jeno.. please look at me.”
He forces your grip out of his arms. It kills him, so much to hear you like this.
“I’m leaving,” He managed to say, however, his feet says otherwise. He’s standing still, not even another step out the door.
“You’re not, please. Just… just look at me.” Jeno heaves, his hands turning into fists as he tries and compose himself.
Just this once.
He turns his heel and immediately surrendered. The moment he let his eyes on you, he already lost the game.
“Why don’t you want me?”
He gulps. He bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything, because he doesn’t trust that he’s not going to say something he’s not ready to say.
“You’ve had so many girls.. Jeno, why not me? I’m…” You paused, you look left to right as if you’re finding words to say. “..I’m better than all of them.”
“Y/n—“
“No! Fuck it, Jeno! There’s no fucking reason why you won’t fuck me! It doesn’t make any fucking sense!” Jeno hears ringing in his head, the string of patience threatening to snap.
“Why? Explain to me fucking why you would fuck all those bitches and not me? I swear.. Jeno, I’m good— fuck that, I’m the best—”
“I’m so—”
“Ask half of your team.”
In that note, the last thread he was hanging on to snapped. You want him? Fine. Take it.
He grips your arms and drags you inside of the room, and in his peripheral view, he can see your demeanor changes. Now, your eyes are mischievous, and your lips turning into a smirk.
“You want to fucking play that game? Fine, I’ll fucking play with you.” Jeno almost growls, letting you sit on the bed as he slams the door shut.
“Strip.” He orders, in the most dominant voice he has.
You bit your lip as you look up at him. Slowly discarding your clothes one by one, but not breaking eye contact with him.
His eyes were dark. So dark that you can’t tell anything that’s on his mind. His jaw tightens at the sight of you almost stripped off of your dress.
“I’ve been so fucking patient with you,”
The dim lights shone at his back, as he craned his body down, standing before you. Nearing his face unto yours, the mirror on the side of the bed depicted something out of a dark fairytale, a silhouette of a beast trying to tempt an angel.
But in reality, the angel had already fallen. Deep and hard. The beast didn't even have to do anything.
"Tell me you want me," he says.
"I do, Jeno. I really want you," And as of this moment, you lost the battle you've fought for all these years.
"All this time, huh? You're still lusting over your best friend's brother?" Now, his tone was slightly teasing. His once gentle hands on your cheeks turned possessive, his grip getting tighter.
"Dirty, dirty, dirty little girl. Bet when you fuck those boys, you think of me, don't you?" His thumb on your lower lip, parting it softly.
"This is your chance, y/n. Tonight, I'm yours. Just tell me the words," his whispers turned deadly, as his own lips are almost touching yours.
"J-jeno.."
"Pretty, pretty, pretty..." His words spit like venom. Every movement of his lips gave you a tease, your entire body burning with desire.
Your mind was under his control, and you completely and utterly surrendered to him. He's not yours— you're his.
"—Please," you finally choked out, and like a green light, Jeno kissed you with hunger, pushing his entire body weight onto you forcing you to lay down on the bed.
“I thought you won’t beg anymore?” The cockiness in his voice would usually prompt a reaction from you but you don’t care anymore.
This time, his hips close the distance between your bodies, maneuvering his knees to position between your legs. Careful not to crush you, he kept balance of his weight as he pushed his hip further, creating a slight friction between your clothed core.
After what it seemed like forever, his lips traveled down your neck, and almost immediately you can feel that he's gonna leave a mark. You'll definitely leave with a painted neck.
His hands expertly went under your dress, grabbing your breast, squeezing them ever so slightly. It doesn't take a full minute when his hands went around your back and unclasped your bra like it was nothing. All while he was focused on kissing every part of your skin.
Of course he's good at this.
Just then, he pulled away but only to pull your dress up and completely undress you. He took his time looking at your exposed body.
"You're so fuckin' perfect," he mumbled more so to himself as he admired you. He leaned in again but this time his mouth landed on one of your breasts, sucking them deftly.
"Shit, Jeno," you can't help but moan his name, grab the back of his head to level yourself. You pulled his hair, and you didn't know if he likes it, but with the way he groaned gave you a hint that he does.
As he keeps himself busy, his hands go down to your clothed core. Goosebumps ran down your body as his middle finger traced your slit, already feeling the wetness you've desperately hid before.
"So fuckin' wet, and all for me. Am I right, baby?" He whispered, you answered with a whiny 'yes' that it almost sounded like a stranger.
"Lemme' take this off," he quickly pulled down your panties, only to be welcomed by your soaking wet core. Jeno was ravenous, like he's been starved all his life.
The room was dark, only a dim lamp providing some light, but the wetness in your pussy glistens and reflects, that Jeno swore he's never seen something so beautiful. You're beautiful, and he's gonna make you feel just exactly that.
You can hear his belt buckle, him swiftly taking all his clothes off.
"God, I can never get used to how fucking pretty you are, my pretty little baby," he mumbled again, to himself.
"Who was the last guy you fucked, baby?" Jeno asked, catching you off guard. He was pumping himself as he looks at you, and you never thought he would ask such question.
"Wha-- why? I don't kn- probably—" Your speech cut off when you looked down at his moving arms, to see all of him.
You've heard rumors. You knew he was packing. But good God, he's so fucking big. Almost knocking the breath out of your lungs. You're starting to get worried if it would fit.
"Doesn't even matter.. everyone else doesn't count. Just me.”
He then pressed his finger down in your core, finding the clit right away. Rapidly circling his finger, and a wave of pleasure started to form. "Oh fuck--," you moaned.
He dove down to kiss you, this time passionately. Much softer than before. Only for you to feel his finger entering you that you went crazy. Not long before he added another,pumping it swiftly in and out. He moved away from your face to watch your expression. And he fucking loved it.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum-" you whispered.
"Go on, baby." Jeno, encouraging you even more, fingers going faster.
"Shit.. oh my go-" and then it hit you, your first orgasm of the night. Jeno's face was all you can see, and his fingers was all you can feel. Your brows furrowed, mouth agape, you felt like you can't control your body. Jeno's lips was also parted, as if he gains pleasure from watching you reach your climax.
"Good girl," he groaned.
"Need more, Jen. Please," begging was never on your vocabulary, until now.
"Shh, no need to beg, baby. I'm more than willing to give you all," his sweet words acted as an aphrodisiac, igniting the fire in you. As if you needed him to be even more sexier.
Because it was dark in the room, your sense of touch is heightened. Every touch lingered, and its as if you were touch deprived your entire life. Jeno brings out your true colors, and you're not mad about it.
"Make you feel good," he whispered more praises, and you can hear him pump himself as he aligned his length onto your aching core.
"Oh my god," you can't help but gasp, the stretch overwhelming you. You've never taken someone this big before, and it fucking felt like its your first time. Not in a painful way, but because you've felt a whole new sensation.
"S' wet, baby, fuck, you're choking me," in a low groan, Jeno slowly bottomed out. He sits fully inside you, and you can feel every single inch, every single vein. It felt so raw, and so right.
"Hmm, fuck, fuck you feel.. fucking hell. S' good." You never expected Jeno to be this vocal, and you weren't complaining. You always thought he didn't like being vocal, but damn, were you so wrong.
"Jeno.." you moaned, and you can already feel your impending orgasm. Its just that good.
Before Jeno could even find a pace with his thrust,, he pulled out. Your eyes opened in confusion, from the abrupt emptiness.
"Fuck this," Jeno was fast on his feet, you wondered where he was going, but before your mind settles on a conclusion, you were blinded by bright lights.
"Need to see you properly," he reasoned, before he went back to the position he was before.
With the lights on, you can now see his perfectly lean body, toned abs and the sweat beading on his sideburns. He looked so hot that you could cum right there and then.
"So fucking beautiful," Jeno never failed to compliment you, as he stares at you before sliding it in again. For the second time you gasp, but because he slid it in so swift that you didn't even get a second to breathe before he pounds.
"Oh, fuck, Jeno!" you squealed, your entire body rocking back and forth with how rough he was.
His hands grabbed your left leg and hooked it in his shoulder, all the while he kept the fast pace of his thrusts. You can see his face twist, him biting his lips and looking up. His expert thrusts made his abs flex everytime. The sight was stunning, and for a second there you were lost. You can't believe other girls had seen this before you.
The orgasm you fought so hard was out of your control now, and you knew you weren't gonna last.
"Jeno, I'm gonna cum," you tell him, and he switched his position in no time. "Together. Cum with me," he muttered.
"Come inside, Jeno. I need it so bad," you were slurring words at this point, so barbaric with the feeling.
He unhooked your leg and leaned forward. Your body now pressed together as he wrapped your legs onto his waist, his hands finding your neck, holding it steady as he touched his forehead with yours. His piercing eyes were hyper focused on yours.
"Eyes on me, baby. Fuck, please," he moaned, his tempo going even more rapid and desperate. Both of your mouths was wide open at this point.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" he stilled, as you both reached climax. He emptied himself inside you. You can't help but moan in a high pitch as orgasm washes over your entire body, an intense wave brought you to euphoria, and you never wanna leave.
"Damn," he whispered, almost in disbelief on how it felt to be with you. Still giving you everything he had, every single drop.
"Jeno," you called out once you relaxed, hoping to get him back to his senses.
"Wait- just.. shit." he managed to mutter despite his weak state. He's still wrapped around you, tight as if you were disappearing. Not to mention he's still balls deep.
A solid minute has passed when he decided to pull out, both of you hissing at the feeling. You felt so empty, and he felt so bare.
And when Jeno closes his eyes, he accepts defeat. You’ve successfully broken him.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Sooyoung, Minnie, Hoyeon, Yoonah.
So far, those are the names that you gathered.
It doesn’t take a long time to figure out what Jeno likes, based on the girls he’s been with. They’re all hot, popular with the boys, and if not the same age as him, they’re older.
The other common denominator is that they all have experience. When Jeno started sleeping around, you would only see him with women who’s expected to be with him. Like those women who knows how pretty they are, who’s aware how to handle a man like Jeno.
So when you finally turn eighteen, you did not waste time.
“Do you think I look hot in this, Ji?” You ask innocently, looking at your best friend through the mirror you’re standing in front of.
He barely looks up from his nintendo switch, and when you make eye contact, the look of disgust on his face makes you roll your eyes.
“Your freakin’ ass is hanging off that skirt. You look like a…” Jisung turns his head towards Chenle on the other side of the room, playing on his playstation.
“…hooker.” Chenle finished the sentence for him. You hide a smirk.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you!” You did a curtsy, before grabbing your purse.
“Wait, where are you going?” Chenle asked as soon as he paused the game to see you walk towards the door.
“NCU is throwing this party for the new basketball team, got an invite from Jungwoo.” You gave Chenle a wink, knowing it would annoy the heck out of him.
“What?! Why do I not know about this?!” You flinched when Chenle says the first word in the highest octave possible.
“Probably because we’re not in NCU’s college department yet? The party’s exclusive for college students, dumbass.” Jisung says boredly, bringing his attention back to his nintendo.
“Except I got an invite, you losers didn’t!” And just for extra annoyance, you stick your tongue out to mock them.
Chenle only huffs, but takes his phone out of his pocket.
“Invited or not, I’m going. I’m sure your broke ass would take up a free ride to the party,” He says as he waits for someone on his phone.
“And how do you plan to enter the party, dimwit? You don’t have an invite,” Jisung asks.
“I’m Zhong fucking Chenle. That’s my invite.” He smirks, grabs his keys and your wrist. You flew a kiss towards Jisung and left his apartment.
Booming music, strobe lights. The bass vibrates through the wall and honestly, this is way too extreme from what you expected. This is the first real party you had attended, where you’re specifically invited.
Jungwoo was someone you knew, from one of your girlfriends. He’s three years ahead of you, making him a year older than Jeno. And to be frank, Jungwoo didn’t peak your interest at first. But when you knew that he’s in Jeno’s friend circle, you figured that maybe, you do like Jungwoo.
“Hey,” Someone from behind you whispers on your ear, making you whip your head. You saw Jungwoo, head hangs low just to whisper. He displays a playful smile as he hugs you.
But before you could even tighten his embrace, Chenle took a protective stance, putting his arms in between. “Woah dude, chill out.”
Jungwoo chuckled, putting his hands up. “Zhong, calm down,”
You immediately give Chenle a look of confirmation, “I’m good, Le.”
“Just making sure.” He says and steps back. He patted Jungwoo’s shoulder in a sense that he’s good. Chenle has always been protective, in literal terms. Jisung however, is protective in a motherly kind of way. In short, Chenle’s fights, Jisung nags.
“Why don’t you talk to Jaehyun? Heard he’s interested in taking you in the team.” Jungwoo says making Chenle widen his eyes, a breathless ‘really?’ coming out of his lips and Jungwoo nods. You pushed Chenle to go find the Jaehyun guy and before you know it, you’re alone with Jungwoo.
“He’s really into basketball, huh?” Jungwoo, sounding amused.
You on the other hand, start roaming your eyes around the room. You’re here for someone, and you need to know if they’re in this party, or else this would be a huge waste of time if he’s not here.
“Yeah, he basically worships Stephen Curry.” You looks at him, to at least try to entertain the boy.
“Mm-hm.” The way his hands crawl into your waist so naturally was a shock to you, but you don’t say anything at all. He starts walking and with his hands attached on your body, you can’t help but walk with him.
“So.. where’s the team?” You really did try to prolong the moment you’re with Jungwoo, but you just can’t stay still without confirming if he’s here.
“They’re upstairs. Some of my teammates doesn’t really like hanging out with too many people.”
“How about you?”
“I was waiting for you, pretty.” Jungwoo flashes a smile, someone could argue his most defining feature but then again, you have your sights on someone else.
True to his words, Jungwoo brought you upstairs, where it’s more intimate with a few people. There’s a lounge area in front of a bar and that's where you spot the certain someone you’ve been looking for.
And as expected, he has a girl with him.
“Hey, guys, uh– this is y/n.” Jungwoo awkwardly introduces you to everyone, including Jeno who at first was shocked at your presence, but soon enough replaced with a certain tension in his eyes.
You did a small wave, still shy at the amount of eyes on you. These people are legends on campus. They’re basically the school’s pride and seeing them acknowledging you was amusing. And Jeno, like the perfect man that he is, just fits right in.
“Hi, I’m Juyeon,” He extends his hands, so you, a person who doesn’t like leaving people hanging, gladly accepts it.
And everyone else follows suit, except Jeno. He was looking at something else, not even the girl he’s with. He’s fixated at his beer can, looking at it very seriously.
“Jeno?” Jungwoo asks, questioning why the boy didn’t acknowledge you.
He looked at Jungwoo, and he was about to answer but you did it for him.
“We know each other. I’m friends with his brother.” You smile at Jungwoo, and he seemed to understand it so he just lead you to the empty spot on the lounge.
They started talking, but your attention was on Jeno. You realized that this is his crowd, quickly you found that he’s very different in front of other people. He’s more talkative, that’s for sure.
But your eyes also catch the soft touches he graces the girl beside him. The whispers he gave, the smiles and subtle kisses on the side of her head. His arms around her and the jokes he tells just for the two of them.
It has been years since he rejected you, yet the pain still stings.
You took your eyes somewhere else, made easy as Jungwoo starts to caress your shoulder. He leaned below, matching your face. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you smiled at him. You weren’t, but you’re obviously not gonna tell that.
He hands you a shot of what you assume alcohol, with his eyes anticipating your next move. This is the first time you’re drinking without Chenle or Jisung around, and you’re unsure if this was okay.
But with everybody starting to look at Jungwoo’s waiting hand, the shot clearly for you, you start to panic. There’s no way you’re gonna embarrass yourself in front of these seniors.
So you suck it up and took the shot. You’re not sure, but you got a glance from Jeno that tells he’s not happy with your action.
The taste of the alcohol was strong, but somehow your throat didn’t burn. Yes, you definitely felt it heat up your taste buds but not bad enough for you to hate it. It’s like a sensation that hypes up your system.
And so, with your new found information, you were more confident in taking shots now. And exactly that you do.
But with the amount of liquid going in, it has to come out. So you excused yourself to the bathroom to pee. You assured Jungwoo you were okay, because heck yeah, you’re fine.
Not until you actually stood up. Good thing you didn’t stumble, but shit, your world is spinning.
You bee line straight to the bathroom and relieve yourself. It took a couple minutes before you finished washing your hands, and as you walk out of the restroom, you were met by a figure clearly waiting for you to finish up.
“J-Jeno,” you muttered, moreso in surprise.
“Y/n what the hell are you doing here?” He whispers, angrily of course.
“Jungwoo invited me!” You whisper back, leaning on the door behind you to balance yourself.
“Where’s my brother? Chenle?” He looms over you, and all you can think about is his luscious lips, mere inches to yours.
“They.. Chenle came with me, Ji stayed home..” You answer, despite being in a trance. The entire place is spinning, but not Jeno’s face. It’s there, in front of you.
“I need you to find Chenle and go home.” He says in finality, expecting you to follow. You knit your brows, as you take in offense over what he’s doing.
“What? I’m invited here!” You whined.
“Find Chenle. Now.” The growl in his last words made you slightly intimidated, not to mention his eyes burning holes into your own.
God, he’s so handsome.
You don’t know if its the vodka, or just plain recklessness that gave you the idea of just tipping on your toes and try kissing Jeno.
It made perfect sense in your head. Your hands cupping his cheeks obviously caught him off guard, but before your lips touch his, his reflex of pushing you off was unfortunately faster.
He shoved you harsh, causing you to stumble and almost losing your balance.
“What the fuck?!” He yells.
Your heartbeat went quicker. Everything started to process. Jeno looks so mad, he huffs and wiping his palm against the part of his face that your lips had touched.
“I-I’m s-sorr—”
“I have a fucking girlfriend, y/n!” He spits, words felt like daggers through your chest.
“Jeno, I’m sorry. I was out of—” Your eyes start to burn.
“Are you that desperate? I rejected you already, didn’t I? I will never look at you different than being my brother’s best friend, y/n! So stop this fucking delusion while I’m being nice.” Jeno points his fingers at you, making you flinch a little bit.
“Jeno, please.” Your tears are now slowly flowing. You attempted to grab his wrist to make him stay and listen to your apologies but he swiped it off like he’s disgusted to be touched by you.
“No, y/n. You’re like a sister to me. It disgusts me to even think of being with you romantically. So please, know your fucking place.”
With that, he walks out and leaves you broken.
You don’t understand. You did everything by the book. You looked pretty, you knew how he liked girls. You made yourself into his fantasies and he still can’t see past the fact that you’re just his brother’s bestfriend.
You take a deep breath between the sobs, calming yourself down. You felt horrible. You felt so sick and embarrassed. You felt so fucking desperate and pathetic that you just want to numb yourself of the pain.
You grab your chest, having difficulty breathing from crying too hard.
This is way more than a broken heart.
You’re no longer consolable, and there’s just no way you’re going back there with your makeup now ruined.
Are you that hard to want?
Are you that hard to need?
The tears don't stop as you walk out of the party. Gladly, everybody’s wasted so nobody noticed you ugly-crying.
As you turn to an alleyway, you shoot Jungwoo a text saying you got sick, and Chenle saying you got an uber home.
With your 7-inch heels on your hand, in the cold street, you walk in shame.
Bare feet on the sidewalk, shivering, that's when you noticed a bar.
Your feet prompted to enter, so that you did. You were going to drown the pain, and there’s nothing in your mind except alcohol.
You hoped that it would ease the pain.
And it did, the effects of it giving you a temporary memory loss. This was the numbing you needed.
The sensation of alcohol gave you solace, and for a while, your thoughts melted into nothingness.
Staring at the shot glass in front of you, you made a promise to your eighteen year old self.
That if Jeno doesn’t want you, you’ll make it your life’s mission to make everyone else crave you. You don’t need Jeno.
You’ll never be rejected again.
And just as soon as you felt like you can breathe again, your phone buzzed.
[2:34am] jisung: y/n, come home, quickly. it’s your mom.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
It was odd to say the least.
This has been what you’ve wanted for so many years. You prayed— and begged the heavens for Jeno to finally take you, to prove that you can get him.
And now, you’ve proven your point.
But why does it feel… strange?
Yes, it was the best sex you’ve had, and it might be the only one that could make you feel that way. It was mindblowing, it was everything and more.
Isn’t this the goal? For him to actually step over that line of being your best friend’s brother?
What else did you want?
Honestly, you don’t know anymore. Hence, you sneak out of the apartment in the middle of the night. Jeno was laying on his stomach, the comforter covering his lower half. His back muscles spread across the sheets and you take the art in. He really is sculptured to perfection.
You managed to put on your clothes and walk out of the apartment building. You find yourself in a nearby convenience store, walking through the isle finding something you didn’t know. Your mind is blank and empty.
These are the times where you wished there was someone to guide you to what you should do next. Because you have no idea. You’re confused, and you need direction.
These are the moments where you wished your mom was here. She would know what to do.
For a while, when you were with Jeno, you felt warmth you’ve always been trying to find from somebody else. With Jeno, you actually felt like sex wasn’t only about pleasure, but it’s also about being able to express unspoken feelings.
Sex wasn’t something you just needed to get over with. It felt amazing, It was perfect.
But it clicked too, that you know yourself was the only one who really appreciated it. Jeno— was in for the satisfaction. He never needed you like you needed him. You talked him into sleeping with you. You were begging for his touch.
You pushed him to a point where he just snapped and gave you what you’ve been desperately chasing him for.
And for what? Probably for you to stop. He was throwing scraps at you because he’s tired of that one girl who keeps chasing his tail. He just gave in, expecting you to finally give up.
Then it hit you. Your fourteen year old self, your eighteen year old self and your twenty-two year old self still has something in common.
You realize, that all the hard work, the wall you desperately tried to build was a fraud. Because at the end of the day, you never lost feelings for Jeno.
No matter how many people you’ve been with, it’s still gonna be Jeno for you.
That makes you laugh. In both ridiculousness and despair. Hopelessness felt eerily familiar.
Silly you, for thinking you’ve moved on.
Jeno is inevitable. And you’ll learn to accept it too.
As you reach up the isle and grab a bottle of Soju, a hand stops you.
“My love, are you okay?” A soft voice that you haven't heard in a while.
“Kun,”
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno knows he’s royally fucked.
He gave into your trap, and you’ve successfully defeated him. All his morals, his beliefs, and the logic he stands on was out the window.
He knows you planned it out too. This was your way of taking revenge on him, when he repeatedly rejected you years ago.
He tried to keep his distance, because he promised.
And he takes his promises seriously, especially when it involves you. And he felt like he broke the one thing that’s keeping the promise he made a couple years ago.
You weren’t supposed to end up in his bed. You weren’t supposed to still want him after everything he’s done. You weren’t supposed to even be involved with him. He’s supposed to stay wherever he is, on the sidelines, silently protecting you.
But it’s all been done. You and Jeno did it, and it cannot be reversed. And now that its happened, there’s not much he can do. He has to hash things out, he has to fix everything.
Because no matter how many women he had before, no matter how many times he tricks himself, he had always felt like it wasn’t what he’s been searching for.
And when he finally had a taste of you, he’s afraid he’s gonna want more. And he’s afraid that he’ll never feel the way it felt with you. He’s horrified that what happened opened his eyes with what’s the truth.
And when he felt the other side of the bed cold, he opens his eyes and you’re gone.
Yeah, this is just a game for you.
But for him? Oh, he’s eternally fucked. The shame, the guilt, and everything in between creeps up. And not of you, he’ll never—ever be ashamed of you. He’s guilty about the fact that he let himself get carried away.
Out of frustration, he hits his steering wheel as he drove. He can’t believe he just did that.
He was drunk, you were clearly not in the right state of mind. Even if you were, he was still drunk. What happened was fucked up, both for him and for you.
He takes a deep breath before pulling out his phone.
He carefully types, calculating everything he needs to say.
[7:35am] to: y/n
hey. dont say anything to my brother. it was a mistake, i was drunk. i don’t really like you like that.
He sent it quick, afraid he’d delete it if he hesitated longer. And just as he did, he felt his whole chest stiffen.
Because once again, he lied. Both to you, and to himself.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You woke up through the sounds of your phone ringing. It was the next week after the whole thing happened with Jeno, and you’ve not craved anything but sleep.
Kun never asked questions. Which you’re thankful for, but you can’t help but feel bad.
You ghosted the guy, again, but he welcomed you into his apartment with open arms like nothing happened. His smile was there, the warmth of his embrace still the same.
Before you could even say anything about your guilt, he’s quick to tell you that it’s okay. He’s with you because he wants to. Although you can’t give him what he wants the most.
In a perfect world, if you weren’t so fucked up, you’d be with Kun, no questions asked.
You were lucky it was the weekend, and you’ve got no class. So you just laid on Kun’s couch, binging away, rotting in the cushions. Kun doesn’t mind, he says its better than you going out and drinking.
Which is true, plus you just can’t physically get yourself back up and doing what you do before, after what happened with Jeno.
Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. Fucking Lee Jeno.
It’s like a curse, following you all throughout your existence. He’s like a ghost stuck in your hip, a burden you’d beg to get off of you. There’s just no way you’d have to carry these feelings towards him until your seventy, right? Jesus.
Your head whips at the door when you hear it open, not expecting Kun to come home so early.
He’s not here ‘til 7, right?
“Oh, you’re still here.”
Well, you’re right. It’s not Kun. It’s his lovely roommate Ten. Note the sarcasm on the lovely part.
“Yeah.” You backed down to the couch.
If there’s anyone annoyed at your presence, it’s definitely Ten. You think he harbored the anger and disappointment Kun should’ve had with you— like some sort of anger translator.
“Your roommate must be overjoyed having your place for her own.” He says, with feign casualness in his tone.
“She’s doing fine,”
“I mean, at this point, you’re gonna have to pay your share with the rent.” He scoffs as he puts down his bag harshly on the counter.
You let out a deep breath, reminding yourself that this is also his place. You’re not in a position to return his attitude because you, in your own thoughts, are aware that you’ve overstayed your welcome.
“Kun says its okay–”
“That’s–” Ten’s voice in a high pitch, but quickly calming himself down. “--that’s because Kun can’t say shit to you. I don’t know if you noticed but my friend is literally insane for you. And of course, you like the attention.”
You can’t help but look at him, your mouth slacking due to disbelief of what he just said. You bit your lip and paused, not wanting to say things without thinking about it first. Again, you're not in a position where you’re purely innocent in this situation.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me. I’ll leave right now.” You managed to calm your tone, avoiding any more discussion.
“What I want you to do is to be straight with Kun, y/n. I know you’re used to being a player, but Kun isn’t. He agreed to your situationship because you weren’t ready. You ghosted him for a few weeks and still he took you in even tho I fucking knew it was a dumb decision because he’s just hoping to be with you again. If you’re not planning to be with my friend, then just fucking make your decision. I know you’re not that cruel to string him along. He’s a good person, y/n.”
His sudden outburst caught you off guard, but every word he said was like a slap to you. Every sentence was nothing but facts, and you knew deep inside that you were in the wrong. That Ten was right. Kun is way too good for you. He does not deserve this.
You felt your eyes starting to warm, for a hundredth time. You nod in agreement. However, you can tell he wasn’t finished.
“He’s not your back burner, y/n. And I’m not saying this to you because I have a problem with you, but I’m saying this because he’s my friend. At first it was fine, but when you treat him lesser than what he deserves, I just feel like you’re being.. really selfish. It’s clear that you have your eyes on someone else. But please, Kun doesn’t do this type of shit. He’s way too naive. Poor guy thought he did something wrong.” The last sentence hits you the most, thinking about Kun probably did think that he’s the one to blame.
You sniff, nodding along Ten’s statement. “I will… I’ll talk to him.” You quietly say. Ten just looks at you before sighing, walking towards his door. As soon as his door closes, the front door opened.
“Sweet cheeks, what’re you doing?” Kun asks, seeing you standing on the doorway staring at nothingness.
You immediately wiped your tears and looked at him with a smile. “Really sad netflix movie,” you excused. Kun doubts, but chooses to stay silent. He walks two steps in front of you before giving you a warm hug like he does everytime he sees you at his apartment.
You gulp, gathering courage to actually start the conversation.
“Uh, Can we talk?” you nip at the bottom of your shirt.
“Of course, princess,” The old nickname he had somewhat felt like an assurance that he’s still the same. It lifted a bit of weight in your chest.
You sat in one of the chairs, not knowing what to do. This place was once your safe haven, now it just feels strange knowing what kind of situation you are in.
“So, uhm, I want to apologize for.. essentially cutting you off. It’s just that, uh, I’ve been–”
“You’ve been with Lee Jeno, right?” he asks, a ghost of a smile still present in his face.
“Well, yeah, but also, I didn’t know that I had that much of a relevance in your life so...” you say, honestly.
“Darling, you were everything.” he pauses. “--but I know that I’m not what you need, or what you wanted. And that’s fine. You don’t need to feel bad, it’s just how it goes.”
“But I’m here, and I promise you, that you don’t need to feel responsible about how I feel. I’ll be fine.” He smiles, like he used to, but this time you know it’s fake.
“Kun, you’re too good for me. You deserve more than me.” Your eyes start to water, but Kun never lets it drop. He caresses your cheeks for what it feels like the last time, before nodding at you.
“I know, baby.” He leaned closer, lips slowly grazing yours. As you felt it, the instinct of kissing back was swift, but Kun did not give you the chance of doing so as he pulled away.
“Don’t kiss me back, please,” he mumbled, before caressing your face for what it felt like the last time before turning away.
And just like that, you lost the man who was ready to give you everything for a man who can’t even spare you a glance.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno is still out of his mind.
He had flunked out of practice, only attending a couple times out of the two weeks that he needed to attend. Barely even there, just standing and basically lifeless in the court.
His coach and his teammates already feel less secure because of Jeno’s state of mind, especially when he’s supposed to be the team’s captain. He feels like shit, truly, and he knows he should be focusing on the game. But how can he, when all he can think of is you?
His coach gave him a hard talking but even that can’t seem to shake him up. His willingness to play disappeared like it was nothing.
He’s pretty sure the entire team hates him now, and if only there’s time to replace him, they’d definitely do it, but finding a replacement, with his skills, is basically impossible. Moreso in limited time.
As soon as he enters his apartment, he throws his bag on the floor and tunnels through his room to lock himself in there. But as soon as he entered it, he was shocked to find his brother laying in his bed.
“What’re you doing here?” He asks, confused.
“Just want to know something,” Jisung says, slowly sitting up. He looks up his brother, standing in the door frame. Jeno couldn’t read his expression, but its pretty clear that he’s not happy.
“Did you sleep with y/n?”
Jeno didn’t know how to react, his eyes widened and for a while, he had nothing to say. But in the end, he knew this was bound to happen. If not you, it would be him spilling the information to his brother.
He didn’t need to say anything, and he knew the silence is more than enough for Jisung to conclude.
“She really likes you, you know? I just–” Jisung paused, “--I just don’t know why you’d sleep with her when you don’t like her back. You know she likes you, hyung. What, is this like an ego thing? She’s y/n, hyung. You know she’s different.” Jisung honestly just sounded confused and tired. He’s not angry, not upset, he comes off like he just wanted proper answers from his brother.
“Dude, just get out.” Jeno dismissed, which pissed off his younger brother more.
“Oh fuck you. You can’t even hold a conversation with your own brother? And if only it’s not y/n, I wouldn’t even waste my time. But it’s her. You know her,”
Jeno took a deep breath. “I like her too, Jisung. No, fuck, scratch that. I fucking love her.”
For a minute, it was silence. Jisung then took the initiative to talk,
“Talk to mom, hyung.”
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno was sixteen, when he realized that he likes the way you smile at him.
He saw you run down the stairs and straight to the kitchen. You were at his brother’s room, for a sleepover with his brother and Chenle. He was lounging on the couch, and he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. He likes to lay in here at night, cuddling with his cat, Bongsik. He can’t let the cat into his room because of his allergies, so he just settled on the couch.
Because Bongsik was alerted of your presence, the cat follows you to the kitchen. Jeno, of course, followed in pursuit. He can still remember the cute expression you had when you discovered Bongsik on the table.
He smiles at you, struggling to get chips from the cabinet. Naturally, he grabbed it for you. You had asked if Bongsik was new, and he answered yes.
“Yep, a rescue. Mom brought it home the other day. Jisung freaked,” He chuckles as he looks at the cat, snuggling in his chest.
He can see you almost begging with your eyes, wanting to pet the cat. So he let you. Surprisingly, Bongsik, who’s usually grumpy, purrs as soon as your hands come in contact with it.
You were so careful, and Jeno almost wants to chuckle at your meek attempt at staring at him.
A slight smile on your face was something Jeno noticed, from a close distance. He surely did not expect you to be this soft and angelic, but he thought to himself, that your smile is something he’d like to get used to.
Jeno was eighteen when he made his first mistake.
He had invited his friends over at his house. He had made some really cool friends, and he even got this girl he’s been trying to get with to tag along. Jeno feels nervous, of course, he wants to impress them.
Besides Jaemin, Haechan and Renjun, he also invites some people from the basketball team he’s trying to get into, and some girls that are part of the circle. And of course, the girl he had liked, Eunmi.
His friends encouraged him to make a move tonight, and for some dumb reason, he thought it would be romantic to bring out wine. So he went to the kitchen to do so, but got surprised when a soft voice called his name.
It was you. Your shy demeanor, and your avoiding gaze startles him but he can’t help but smile. You’re so cute.
He clears that with whatever you were gonna tell him, make it quick because someone’s waiting for him. But as soon as you open your mouth to say the next words,
“I like you. Very much.”
He feels like his feet are frozen. His heart starts to race and if only he wasn’t leaning on the counter behind him, he would definitely stumble. His grip on the wine glass tightens. He doesn’t know what to do.
The next words just came out, and he instantly regrets it.
“...I-I’m just being nice.. I have to be nice. You’re my brother’s best friend.” In a split second before Eumi interrupts the conversation, he can clearly see the pain in your eyes. The initial shock of the fact that he’s rejecting you was prominent in your face and he just wanted to take every word back at that point.
But before he could even utter another word, Eunmi decided to take over. You then quickly walked out, but before you can turn around, he sees a teardrop, and by then, he’s sure he’s made a mistake. He can’t believe he just broke your innocent heart.
Eunmi is no longer in his mind, his friends no longer his priority, the entirety of the night, you plagued his mind. He wanted to run after you, and apologize. But what exactly is it for? It’s not like he was rude. He was calm, but still, you were visibly upset.
Jeno blames himself, until the night ends, he shoots his brother a message to ask you if you were okay. He needs to know.
Jeno was twenty when he breaks his own heart for the first time.
He can’t believe his eyes. He doesn’t know which emotion he should feel, the anger that slowly builds up upon seeing you entering the party with Jungwoo, or the adoration to seeing you looking that good in your mini dress.
You had walked in with the confidence he failed to notice before, with Jungwoo’s arm around your waist. He clenches his fist, but soon he gets caught in his own mind when his girlfriend of two weeks leans over to him.
The train of thought he had was still there, however, he was forced to pretend like everything’s fine. Although he can’t look at you in the eye, when he can certainly feel your gaze time to time.
What he can’t absolutely avoid tho, is his eyes on Jungwoo’s touches. Since when did you let a random man touch you like that?
More so, a man like Jungwoo? Much older than you, and he doesn’t remember Jungwoo and you ever be in the same vicinity as each other. Why are you so comfortable with him already?
Green doesn’t suit Jeno. So he tries to focus on the girl beside him. But mentally, he counts the shots that was given to you. Too many, and if the situation is different, he’d take those shots and shove it up Jungwoo’s ass.
But as soon as you stood up, his quick reaction was to follow you.
All he can think about is you getting out of here.
“Find Chenle. Now.” He groaned, despite his anger, he doesn’t like yelling at you.
What you did next was unexpectable.
You had tried to kiss him.
His reflex was to push you, and that, he did. His demeanor changes, and everything that falls from his lips after that was a blur to him.
One thing’s clear, the look in your eyes. You were so defeated, but Jeno didn’t let it affect him. He was blinded by anger, and the fact that you’re so drunk that you’d kiss just anyone. Not to mention a man that has a girl! What has gotten into you?
“Are you that desperate? I rejected you already, didn’t I? I will never look at you different than being my brother’s best friend, y/n! So stop this fucking delusion while I’m being nice.” Lies after lies after lies.
He was completely out of his mind when he said that to you.
And when you cried in front of him, he felt his own heart break. Every tear is equivalent to a stab right through his chest.
Right there and then, he wanted to beg for your forgiveness. Say that everything wasn’t true, that he doesn’t think you were desperate. Hell, he would kiss you back if you’d let him.
But all those hope was thrown away when you left. Because what’s left was this strange, terrifying feeling that somehow, this was the last straw for you.
And Jeno despises himself for causing you pain, over and over. He curses at his own self for being so coward.
“Hey Jen, how are you?” His mom’s voice was enthusiastic as ever. Even over the phone, he can hear the smile in her face.
He thinks he should be honest. “Not good,”
“Aw, is it your practice? Don’t worry darling, just a few more months and you’ll be graduating!” He smiles at his mother’s sweet voice of anticipation, he can just imagine the tiny claps she does.
“No, mom. I—“ He closes his eyes in frustration. “I have to talk to you about something,”
“What is it? Is it your brother? About y/n?” Her tone changes, now sounding concerned.
Jeno curses mentally, because of how quick his mom mentioned you.
“It’s about y/n,” he says lowly, testing the waters for a bit.
He hears a deep sigh, “I called her a week ago and she’s been real distant from me, Jen. Anything I should know?”
“Mom,” He almost whines. He just wants to spill it out.
“What? You’re worrying me. Is our y/n okay? God, she’s been out of control, hasn’t she?” The concern is now intensified, and Jeno thinks he should just spit it out. But his tongue can’t seem to say it.
“She.. she’s fine.”
“Good gracious, okay. I thought something had happened. Her mother must be frowning at me from heaven right now. Still remember your promise to your Auntie, right?”
Bingo. The very reason as to why he can’t just say it. Why he can’t just be with you already. It’s because of this god forsaken promise that he made.
“You need to be a big brother to her, treat her as your sister. She has nothing but us now, Jeno.”
He almost cries, he just wanted to yell. He felt as though he failed his mother, your mother and you. He shouldn’t be feeling this emotion towards you. This harbored feelings are forbidden. He can’t. He just… can’t.
He lets his eyes get warmer, gripping in his phone harshly. He takes a huge, deep breath.
“Mom, I love her. So much. I- I can’t… I can’t keep on hurting her and pretending that I only look at her as a sister.” He pleads, finally letting it known. There’s no turning back.
Silence was deafening on the other line. Every millisecond, he can feel his heartbeat race.
“Jeno, we’ve talked about this.”
“I love her, mom. I do, I really do.” He cries, for the first time in a long time.
“She’s your sis—“
“She’s not! God, she’s your best friend’s daughter, I know that but I’m not her older brother. I’m a person that truly loves her. I have loved her for so many years but I keep on h—“
“Jeno, hush, darling. I understand… but she’s our family. If all these feelings get old and you decide you don’t love her anymore, who will she turn to? Not us, darling because at the end of the day, we’re your family. I’m just… worried about her, she has… no one to turn to if this all blows up.” His mother’s response, despite the rise of emotion, was still calm and soft.
“I won’t, mom. Please, just let me love her. I can’t keep hurting her, mom, It kills me.” Jeno never begged this much. Just for you. His only exception.
His mother pauses, way too long, before finally breathing out again. “Okay, darling. I trust you. But please. I beg you, not to hurt her. We’re all that she’s got.”
Jeno whips his head up, baffled as to how easy she agreed to him. A little to no persuasion, and it didn’t even take ten minutes.
“What? J-just like that?” Jeno questions in disbelief. Years of yearning, years of hurting you, when Jeno could just do this early on?
His mom, regardless of the moment, managed to let out a breathy chuckle.
“Darling, you’ve proven yourself over the years. Me and your Dad had an inkling that you have a special admiration for Y/n ever since before. Its just unfortunate that her mother had to pass, and had asked us a favor— more to you, to look after Y/N like your own sibling. And when you agreed, I felt like it’s just how it goes. But years of seeing you pretend to not care about her, and seeing you struggle to cope with your feelings, I knew then that you were serious.”
“Me and your Dad realized that our eldest, really, has grown up to be a man. And seeing you still have the same passion and the same feelings towards her until now, says that you’d stop at nothing at this point. So what’s the use of preventing you?”
And with that, Jeno was free. Free of constraint, of guilt and control over his own will and feelings.
Like a baby, Jeno falls asleep with tears in his eyes. In complete satisfaction on how things went. Now, his only problem is getting to you, and begging for your forgiveness. Wishing by then, you’d still want him.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno didn’t waste his time. As soon as the morning comes, he’s fast on his feet. He wants to talk to you, he wants to clear everything up. He had tried to text and call, but he quickly realized you blocked his number.
He called his brother next, but Jisung also has not heard from you since yesterday.
It wasn’t until 5pm that he couldn’t find you, he started to worry. None of your friends know where you are, and you’re not in your apartment either.
He contacted every possible soul that could even have a hint on where you’re at, but none of them knows.
He feels like he’s running out of time, running out of momentum.
And just as soon as he was about to call for help, he received a message.
[5:32pm] unknown number
she’s at dreamscape hill. she likes going there to ease her mind. take care of her, please. -k
He didn’t care to ask who it was, he just prayed that whoever sent him this message was right.
And off to dreamscape hill, Jeno goes.
He can barely catch his breath when he arrived, heart pounding at his chest. It was past sundown when he found you sitting at the bench, on top of the hill.
It’s you. He’s sure it’s you. To the curves of your shoulder, to the waves of your hair. Call it creepy, but he spent years looking at your back, from afar, forbidden to even glance at you when you’re close. So yes, he’s a hundred percent sure that it’s you.
He’s a few feet behind you, when he noticed the earphones you had on. Probably why you didn’t hear the ruffling of the twigs and leaves as he walked closer.
And in divine timing, you look back at your shoulder, looking straight at Jeno’s eyes, as if it made sense why he’s here.
Slowly, you pull the earphones out.
“What’re you doing here?” You ask, almost a whisper. But the city in front of you gave him enough silence to hear every breath you take.
“Finding you,” he answers. He struggles to keep his words straight, the thumping in his chest causing him to stutter.
You blink thrice, seems like you’re still processing Jeno’s answer.
“Why?”
Jeno took a couple step, and finally he sat beside you. he looked forward at the cityscape. He took note of your body language, it seems to him that you’re starting to get nervous.
“To tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took this long for me to find you. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry for making you cry. I’m sorry that I wasted years, and I’m so sorry I lied.” Jeno says every word with great diction, in perfect pace and clear voice. He wants you to understand every word that he says.
He hears you let out a huff, as if in disbelief. His heart went even more faster, scared on what you might say.
He’s never anticipated an answer like this before. He never had to grip at his own knees in nervousness before. He can’t even look at your expression.
“I think we’re past that, Jeno.”
This is what he’s afraid of. He might be too late, he might fuck this up. Nevertheless, he’ll never regret trying.
“I know that I’m years too late but you need to understand—“
“I don’t need to understand nothing. What I need is to just live my life, love my life. I have spent years yearning for you, let me love myself too. I think I’ve loved you since I met you, Jeno. I just mistook it for curiosity. Everyone else isn’t you, and turns out that’s a huge problem for me.” Jeno can hear you smile, and when he finally let himself take a look, he softens.
You’re smiling like you used to smile. You’re smiling like you again.
“That’s because we thought we could alter fate, and tell me I’m batshit crazy for believing but I can prove to you that we’re just… soulmates, y/n. Y-you’re meant for me as much as I am for you.” These are some words Jeno never thought he would use. The things you make him do.
You chuckle again, while shaking your head. Do you find it ridiculous? Do you think Jeno is joking? Are you finding all of these insufferable? God, Jeno wished he could read you.
“We are not soulmates, Jeno. This is not some divine intervention, and shit, this is not fate. I wanted this. I knit the threads of my destiny until it spelled your name. I love you intentionally, Jeno. It’s not the stars and the heavens that brought us together. I did.”
Jeno was speechless. He could not utter a single word, he felt like he had no right to dictate you about what you feel. He’s ashamed, because what you said was right. You made him feel this, because of your desire for him, you made him fall. And damn it, he fell hard.
“It’s like you filled my lungs with flowers, although they are pretty, it made it hard for me to breathe. That's how much I wanted you.”
“Y/n, I will apologize to you forever if you wanted me to. Just… just please, let me have my chance.” Jeno begged like he never did before. He let his emotions out, and all for you. Because you deserve it. You deserve the real him.
Slowly, he felt your hand on his clenched fist, instantly letting it loose. He took the opportunity to lace your fingers together. It felt right, like your hand always belonged intertwined with his.
“If I took this chance with you, that would be the knife that would slit my own fucking throat, Jeno. And you know what’s funny? I’d probably apologize for bleeding in your shirt.”
“So let me have this time for myself, Jeno. And just like the old saying, time will tell. And if we find each other without even looking, then that’s when I’ll believe in that fate you were talking about.”
As your grip in his hand loosens, he felt like this was the first and last time he’ll get to hold your hand. He wanted to be selfish and not let you go, but he knows he’d be cruel to do that.
So he didn’t move. “I’ll see you around,” you say.
“I’ll find you,” he whispered, to you, to himself, and to whoever who’s listening. Let it be the heavens, or the devil in hell. He whispered to anybody, because he knows he’ll do it, and he wants everyone to stand witness to this promise.
“Sure you will,”
And in every step you made, as your body slowly walks away, you took his heart with you. Its yours, anyway. He’ll just have to find you to have it back.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
“Lee Jeno! Lee Jeno! Lee Jeno!”
The screams from the bleachers never seemed to falter, only getting louder each time.
The band is on full blast, people running around down the court as soon as the last whistle of the game went off.
Jeno had won the much awaited game against the SKU, with a whopping 73 points under his belt, making it the first time in his school’s history to earn that many points, by a single player, in one game.
This just solidified his reputation, being named the greatest player that had ever stepped foot on this campus.
And to make this game, even more legendary than it already is, it’s the last game of the season before Jeno graduates. So he’s literally going out with a bang with this one.
His teammates celebrated the win, begging Jeno to go the the victory party. For the first time, Jeno refused to attend a victory party. Much more, a victory he made happen.
He walked past the girls that’s lining up to take a picture with him, immediately walking straight back to the lockers.
He shoots a text at Renjun, informing his friend that he’ll head home, instead of attending the party.
He was about to turn to his locker, when his name was called by a familiar voice.
Jeno looked back, and to his disappointment, it’s Jennie.
“Why haven’t you answered my calls? It’s been months, Jeno! You can’t just..” Jennie couldn’t even finish her sentence, stomping her feet like a toddler.
Yes. It has been months since he blocked every girl that he had ever slept with.
Three months, thirteen days, and twenty-one hours, to be exact.
“My team’s gonna be here soon. You don’t want me to embarrass you in front of them, trust me.” Jeno’s threat was casual, but he’s serious enough for Jennie to take the hint.
“B-but, Jen, it's me.” Jennie’s voice turns softer, making Jeno cringe at the tone. She then tried to touch his shoulder, but Jeno was quick to dodge.
“Exactly. You’re you, Jennie. And I don’t like you.”
The girl was aghast, to say the least. Her mouth wide open in disbelief. Taking Jeno’s advice, albeit with offense, she stomps her way out of the lockers.
Just as he said, his teammates started flocking in, with his coach holding the trophy. He lost count on how many pats in the back he received after the game. The repetitive congratulatory messages are starting to grow old.
“Are you really not coming? You’re literally the man of the year, dude. Everybody’s gonna be looking for you!” Sungchan, one of his teammates says.
“Nope,” Jeno says with a pop.
“Come on, this’ll probably the last victory party you’ll ever have!” Yangyang joins in, but Jeno just shrugged his shoulders.
“Sorry, dude. I got a thesis paper due in two days.”
A plethora of complains, grunts and ‘what?!’s came pouring in after his statement, but Jeno stood his ground.
Jeno was serious. He needs to study for his thesis paper, and pass it on time. His professor expects him to match his academics to his basketball career, and he doesn’t want to disappoint.
Before the commotion gets even more wild, and before Jeno gets kidnapped into attending the party, he swiftly bids farewell to his coach, the only person that mattered to him. His coach just shook his head and gave him a nod, before letting him go.
“You did well, kid.”
Jeno heads through the parking lot. He had been stopped by students every ten seconds therefore his usual 4 minute walk to his car ended up being 30 minutes.
He starts up the engine, but before taking off, he checks some of his messages.
[8:43pm] dong(yuck!): congratulations, lebron ‘lee jeno’ james! the game was so cool dude u look good throwing balls lol btw im staying at my girls hauz. also ur welcome. also enjoy. lolz
[8:54pm] jaemjaem: dude that game!!! ur on FIRE my guy!! pls pls apply for nba so i can watch courtside with kanye west :D im out rn and i wont be home til tmrw. ur welcome ;)
[8:59] jisung: great game couldve been better tho… anyways… wrap it b4 u tap it!!!
[9:02pm] injunnie <3: game was lit. didnt understand shit abt the game but u did good. im spending the night @ my moms so u better make it worth it, lee jeno.
Jeno’s breath hitches, and before he could even question the hints his roommates are giving him, another ping notifies his phone.
[9:04pm] unknown number: hi. im at urs. can we talk?
Jeno knows not to speed, but tonight, he swears his tires didn’t even touch the concrete. He is flying off the highway.
With sweaty palms, he enters the security code to his door. Hands shaking, he opens it up and with the sight of a woman’s shoes on his doorstep, he takes a deep breath.
“I hope you don’t mind, it was Jaemin’s idea to let me in without telling you. Uh, so if you’re not—“
“Y/n,” he gulps as he takes in your figure, standing in the middle of his kitchen.
“Yeah.. it’s me.” You smile tightly, shrugging your shoulders.
Even though Jeno was ready to leap and drown you in his embrace, he stood his ground. He’s still not sure why you’re here, and until you say so, he’s not moving. The last thing he wants to do is push your boundaries.
“What’re— what are you—” He feels stupid. Stuttering like a five year old in front of you.
“Figured we could talk. Jisung and Chenle got sick of me moping around so they made me—“
“I hope you’re not being forced to talk to me. I told you, I’ll wait. No matter how long,” The sincerity laced in his voice was prominent.
“I promise you, I went here in my own will. Two idiots just talked some sense into me, and Jisung told me about the promise you made my mom years ago.”
Then there was silence. But this time, it wasn’t deafening. It was peaceful. Its as if you two are finding serenity in each others presence and just the way you stare at each other already says the words your mouth couldn’t speak.
But Jeno cut it short. “Does this mean..”
“I want to try, Jeno. I want to experience this with you. Slowly, at our own pace. I want to go on dates. Carnivals. Watch netflix. Everything, with you.” There's a tinge of shyness in your voice, and Jeno just wants you to scream it out. You don’t need to shy away from him.
“Everything, with me. At your own pace. I’ll accept everything you can offer,” He assured your worried mind.
You nod gently. “I want to feel loved without feeling like I’m begging for it,”
Jeno shakes his head vigorously, “No, baby, you’ll never beg to be loved, ever again. I swear in my grave.” He takes one step closer.
“I’ll trust you and risk getting my heart broken again, but I really hope you won’t.”
One more step closer “I will never. Baby, you’re it for me. I didn’t know it before, but I should’ve known it was you, because no one else made sense.”
You nod again, biting your lip. “When I visited my mom, I told her about you,”
“Yeah?” Jeno asks, in a sweet tone, taking another step closer.
You smiled at him. “I bet she would trust you too,”
“I will not break her trust. Not again,”
He watches carefully as you raise your hand to cup his cheeks, his reaction was to lean into your touch. He takes your initiative as a signal, but still takes his movement slowly.
You gulp, looking up at him. “Can you love me now?”
“Oh, baby. I have loved you since forever. It just took me time to realize it.”
And then, as you tiptoe to match his height, he feels your lips on him and he swears that you taste like heaven.
Jeno didn’t remember how long you talked that night, but somewhere in the midst of your laughter and smiles, he decided that he would destroy the world for you.
Because you might not know it, but in every universe, in every lifetime, and in every story, Jeno has always been completely, madly, and inevitably yours.
A/N: From the bottom of my heart, I apologize for making you guys wait this long. I promise, it just happened to be my worst year ever :'(( but at least she's here! I just wish this could at least be worth it. Tune in for the next part (I promise, it would NOT take this long lmao)
SUMMARY | Hanging out with your friends at the hottest club in Chicago, you never expect to see Johnny after you had left the idol life, your friends and him after a scandal. Johnny says he misses you and shows you how much he really does miss you.
PAIRINGS | Johnny/Fem!Reader
GENRE | friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, angst, drama, fluff(?) towards the end.
RATING | Mature
LENGTH | 11,413 words
AUTHOR'S NOTE | This was supposed to be short but I guess it turned out longer than I expected LOL. Once my fingers are on a roll, anything is possible haha. Anything in italics is spoken in Korean. Enjoy lol
NCT Main Masterlist
Your music is not cut out for it. Who's gonna listen to that shit?
You shook those words from your mind as you tried to focus on what was happening in front of you. The lights were dimmed, there was pumped up music, countless sweaty bodies out on the dance floor, drunks making moves on men and women. It was hard not to focus on anything else but the music that the club was playing was horrible.
Who listened to this crap anymore?
You obviously didn’t.
“Ouu~ this song is my jam!” The dark-skinned girl next to you yelled out, wiggling in your seat. Tori was one of your best friends since high school and was notorious for being a party girl. Even at the age of twenty-eight, all she did was go to clubs, bars, and lounges.
And you blamed her for dragging you there.
“Everything is your jam, Tori!” Another woman, whose blond waves bounced about, yelled back. Becca was your other best friend from high school and was still the smartest person you knew. Since you left for Seoul a few years back, Becca was a successful business owner with a tendency to party nowadays. Tori was most likely rubbing off on her.
“Uh huh, but you’re dancing too!” Tori yelled right back. Both women wiggled in their seats, drinks in one hand.
You never really liked the club scene. You were much more reserved and preferred to be in a bar or lounge, where they tended to play better music and have less sweaty bodies. Those were the places where you got most of the inspiration for writing your own music. You were feeling a bit out of your element here.
“Come on, Y/N. Loosen up and let's get partying.” Becca danced in her seat next to you.
“No thanks.” You shook your head, swirling the alcoholic concoction in your hand with the stirrer. “I feel out of my comfort zone here.”
“Girl, don’t they party in Korea?” Becca asked, taking a sip of whatever drink she ordered, nodding her head to the music.
You shrugged. There were parties in Seoul but you were so busy working that you never had the time to go and party. Your days were packed with dance practices, song rehearsals, variety shows, music programs. It was hard being an idol.
Correction...
An ex-idol.
You used to be a member of a now popular girl group but left due to differences in music and joined another company. The group you were in, tended to go for the cute songs and concepts but because you were the oldest of the group, you wanted to try something new. Something sexy or mature. But the company and the other girls didn't like it. ‘We would lose our public appeal’, they said.
Another reason why you left, certain sources claimed, was the scandal with a very popular male idol with a huge fanbase. Well… that was how the media portrayed it. But there was some truth to the news.
Glad you’re out of the group. We don’t need a whore like you ruining our reputation.
You really thought a girl like you could really be with a top idol like him? Dream on, Y/N.
You shook your head, clearing your mind of those bad memories. In the wake of your scandal, you asked your new company if you could take a leave of absence or go on an indefinite hiatus. They gave you permission, halting what little schedules you had. You cut all your ties to any idol friends and boarded the next available plane to come back to the States.
And here you were.
Back home with family and friends.
A place you could truly feel at home.
“I was so busy working that I didn’t have time to party or even go out for drinks.” You replied, taking a sip of your alcoholic beverage. “I feel like I’ve forgotten how to party.”
Tori placed her now empty glass on the table and reached forward to link arms with you and Becca. “Well, come on girl! You’re back home and away from all that negativity! So let’s just have fun and dance!”
She had a point. You were away from all that negativity. All those bad vibes. You had a chance to be free.
The music in this joint still sucked though.
Tori led Becca and you to a clearing in the middle of the dance floor. Back during your high school and college days, you were considered a horrible dancer that lacked confidence but you guess those dance training lessons paid off. You still weren't an amazing dancer like other Korean idols but you could still hold your own. Plus, the alcohol flowing through your body made you feel free and relaxed. Swaying your hips and occasionally doing some body rolls seemed to attract some attention towards your way. You were suddenly feeling the hype and despite the bad music, your body wouldn’t stop moving. You really couldn’t believe that you forgot how to have fun.
“Ouuu~what song is this?” Tori asked excitedly as the beat and tempo of the music changed.
“Are they performing this song live or something?” Becca asked from in front of you.
It wasn't typical club music. That quickly died down to be replaced with the sounds of a live band playing. Different yet familiar to your ears. The powerful drums, the rhythmic strumming of the guitars and bass, the beautiful melody coming from the keyboard. All sounds that were too familiar.
It couldn’t be, could it?
You shook your head and didn’t even bother to turn around to see who was playing. Chicago always had some new talent out in the streets and it wasn’t uncommon for aspiring singers to be playing a gig.
“I think it’s Korean.” You heard Becca call out.
“How do you know?” Tori asked her.
“I listen to enough K-Pop to know what Korean sounds like.” Becca stated matter of factly. Which was true since she showed you her extensive playlist of popular groups like Stray Kids, Got7, Infinite, etc. “I've never heard of these guys before though. But then again, their music isn’t really my style.”
“You sure it’s in Korean? Sounds like English to me.” Tori softly swayed to the music, joining the crowd that was enraptured by the live band playing and singers singing. “So this is what the bartender meant when he said that there was going to be live playing and singing later.”
“We'll take the highway to heaven
And I can't wait to love you all alone
(Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, oh yeah, yeah)
We'll take the highway to heaven
On the 101, let's see just where it goes
(Oh yeah yeah yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah)”
Wait… what? Why did you know this song? And why does it sound like he’s here? It has to be a joke right? You shook your head and pushed the thought to the back of your mind. You were probably going crazy getting cooped up in your room all the time.
“Last call, are you coming with me?
I got some things you want to see
Tell all your friends that you're busy, they know
They know we got the chemistry
Love how your body feels on me
When you get back, let me get that”
But why did those lyrics sound so damn familiar? You just couldn’t put your mind on it. You were going crazy, weren’t you? Yeah that had to be it.
“Baby you should know, I won't let you go
I'll show you the world if you say so
Oh, she's so bad (So bad)
I'll make it last
And baby, I can't leave you alone”
“Why does this song sound so familiar?” You muttered mostly to yourself but Becca heard.
“You know this song?” She asked, clearly feeling the music as she grooved to the pop song.
You shrugged, still a bit confused. This was clearly a Korean song but why is it sung in English? “Kind of. I mean it’s originally in Korean. Are they doing English covers of Korean songs?”
Becca shook her head. “The bartender said that it was a group of Korean men that was going to perform though. Maybe it’s an English version?”
Can’t be… Could it? The boys surely couldn’t be here… You doubt their company would send them to a venue like this. They would normally play in bigger venues.
“Damn, they’re good.” Tori muttered from next to you. She gave you a small smile and nodded to the stage, all the while swaying along to the song. “Do you know them by any chance?”
You sighed. You guess you could turn around and indulge your friends. You turned and it felt like your world ended.
Of all places...why here? Why at this time and place?
They danced as great as they always did. They sang with passion as they always did. They looked even more emotional than usual and when he turned his head towards your way while singing his lines, he caught your eyes. He didn’t falter even once as he locked his eyes on you. He continued dancing, those mesmerizing eyes piercing through your very soul. That sweet, velvety voice singing into the microphone, the sound of it ringing through your head.
God, you missed him.
You missed his voice, his face, the way his long fingers would push back his hair from his face. You missed his laughter, his smile, his eyes. You missed everything about him.
You turned back to Becca and Tori and took a deep breath. “I need some fresh air.”
They didn’t stop you as they continued to feel the music. You made your way towards the bar and asked for some water to hydrate your now dry throat. What will you say when they find you? What do you say when he talks to you? You shook your head and finished your water not noticing that the group finished their set and was replaced by another live band performing.
You turned to head towards the door to get a breather when you bumped into someone, spilling his drink all over the counter. “Oops! I’m so sorry!”
He turned to you and you saw that he was an Asian man of about five feet eleven inches and he seemed to have an air of sophistication on him. He raised his eyebrows when he saw you, his mouth opened slightly to speak.
Shit. Why Jeffrey of all people?
“It’s you! What are you doing here?” He asked in rapid Korean. “Do you know how much everyone has been asking about you?”
Oh no. What do you say?
“Hyung, there you are.” Another man approached him, his voice carefree and lighthearted. He looked at Jeffrey’s stunned face and then turned to you, his eyes going wide. “Oh! Noona! You were here all along?!”
Full Sun...
Fuck. You knew it. Once you saw one of them, you’ll end up seeing the rest of the guys. You turned away from them, leaving them stunned and a sputtering mess. “Sorry, I don’t know you!”
You pushed your way through the small crowd that gathered by the back door and went to an empty clearing. You needed to catch your breath. It’s been a year since you had seen anyone from the industry so why were they here of all places? Did they have a gig here somewhere in Chicago and decided to let loose or something?
You weren't paying attention as you bumped into something, rather someone, again. What the hell was wrong with you today? You were losing it. You had to be losing it. Seeing the group made you lose composure.
Yeah, that was it.
“You okay?” A voice said from above you. That voice. That smooth velvety voice.
Johnny.
You couldn’t hide so you looked up at him with uncertainty in your eyes. “I’m fine... It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
A soft chuckle. “Yeah it’s been a year. How have you been, Y/N?”
Breathe in and out, Y/N. In and out. “It’s been dandy. Just living life one step at a time. How have you and the boys been, Johnny?”
A smile and the sound of his clothes shuffling about. From the corner of your eyes, you saw him lift his hand but placed it back at his side. “Oh, you know. The usual. Making new music, performing with the guys.”
“So why are you guys here? Randomly partying?” You asked out of curiosity.
He nodded, slicking his hair back. “Yeah. You? I couldn’t help but see a few old friends with you.”
You shrugged. “Apparently I was too cooped up in my room writing music. Tori dragged me out.”
“You're still writing music?” He asked. You gave him a small nod. “I'd like to hear it one day.”
“One day…” You muttered, your voice drowning out when you heard the voices.
“I swore I saw her, Mark.”
“You sure Jaehyun? Y/N has been avoiding all of us. She hasn't even been picking up Johnny’s calls.”
“I saw her too, Mark.”
“Even you Haechan? Wow, where was I at?”
You scanned his profile. Has things changed since the last time you saw him a year ago? He was still tall but he seemed to gain muscle. He hadn’t changed one bit. You let out a soft chuckle. “Jaehyun saw me first. Then Haechan. I ran away from them.”
“That sounds like you.” He chuckled. He bit his lower lip, probably thinking of what to say next. “Everyone misses you.”
But did you? You weren't about to ask him that though. “Yeah, I missed everyone too.”
“Y/N, I-” He started but was cut short when you shook your head.
“It's okay, Johnny.” You muttered, shaking your head. “You don’t need to say anything.”
Out of the blue, someone pushed you and you landed into Johnny’s outstretched arms. You pulled back almost instantly and he looked at you with sad eyes. If it was before your scandal and departure, you wouldn't have minded it. You would have thought he was joking or something like he normally did. Teased you, slightly pushed you away but… He didn't. His eyes held a certain sadness in them, as if he was telling you he was sorry for everything that happened, telling you that it was alright, telling you that he didn't mean those words.
You wanted to hear those words out loud. You wanted…
What did you want?
He reached out, cupping your cheek. “Y/N. I missed you.”
A Year Ago
“But why noona?” Haechan asked.
The rumors and the hate you were getting about your scandal and departure from your ex-group was stressing you out that the new company you were with was having trouble trying to control the situation. You had come to visit one of your best friends in the industry, letting him and his group mates know that you were going on a hiatus indefinitely and that you were going back home to the States.
“Do you really have to go noona?” Jungwoo asked from the couch.
You nodded, your hand touching the scar you received a week ago on your neck. It wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. “Yes. I’m tired and I just want to go home.”
“But Y/N, how will we keep in contact?” Yuta asked, frowning next to Haechan.
“I'm always a phone call away.” You gave him a small smile. “You can always call me when you need to.”
“You’re going to be on the other side of the world.” Taeyong muttered, Doyoung nodding next to him. “It's going to be hard to contact you with our schedules and the time zone difference.”
“I know. I don’t want to do this but…” You trailed off and looked down at your feet.
“If you hadn’t gone to his house late at night, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Johnny muttered from his seat in the kitchen.
Here it comes again.
The fighting.
“And how was I supposed to know that some crazy paparazzi was going to be taking pictures?” You retaliated. This was not the first time that you and Johnny got into a heated argument about this topic. He felt so strongly about it and as much as you wanted to let it go, he always brought it back up. “He’s a friend. There was nothing going on between us.”
“Friend, my ass. You think the media thinks that? To them a female idol and a male idol are meeting in secret.” Johnny argued back, getting up to stride towards you. Sure he towered over you with his height, but there was no way you were going to be intimidated. “You really thought a girl like you could really be with someone like him? Dream on, Y/N. Get over yourself. He doesn’t love you.”
“I know he doesn’t! And I don’t like him in the romantic sense. Why are you being such an ass?” You glared up at him. You could tell the boys were getting concerned, Doyoung and Jungwoo backing away from whatever fist fight Johnny and you were going to put up. Jaehyun and Taeyong stood close by to step in if anything.
“I just wonder what’s going on with that thick skull of yours?! Of all guys, why him?” Johnny muttered out in English. For the past few times you've argued, it's been in English. He brought up his hand, as if to strike you, but clenched his fist and put it down. “If you wanted to date someone, you could’ve dated one of the guys. Yuta or Taeyong is a better choice than him!”
“Why do you always think I like him?! Why do you always jump to conclusions whenever I have guys as friends?” You retaliated back in English. “Why are you concerned about who I date and don't date?”
Johnny scoffed and threw his hands in the air. He gave you an incredulous look. “Who wouldn’t like him? He’s popular compared to NCT. You’d like to be the center of attention, don’t you? Especially after your group kicked you out.”
Center of attention?
Ouch. What a way to hit someone when they were down.
“Of all people, I thought you would be supportive of me Johnny! We go way back since our high school and college days and this is how you think of me?!” You shouted, the other members of NCT 127 backing away. You took a deep sigh out of frustration and looked him in the eyes. “Fine! I’m done.”
“What are you talking about Y/N?” Johnny shouted back, his hands grasping your shoulders.
“Yeah, it’s like you said Johnny. I like being the center of attention since I'm not the popular one in my ex-group. What else can I do when even my vocal trainer says I can't sing but you know for a fact that I could sing better than any of those girls? But you know what? I don’t need your permission or approval to do the things I want to do.” You shook yourself from his hands and stared at his angry face. You grabbed your things and headed towards the door. “I’m leaving Seoul. And I’m not coming back. Not for those girls, not for him… And especially not for you.”
“Y/N, I missed you.”
What a liar. No he didn’t. He was the one who pushed you away first.
Johnny looked down at you, his eyes filled with sadness. Perhaps regret? You looked away, not wanting to get drowned in those eyes of his. And as much as you missed the man, you couldn’t forgive him for pushing you away like that. What he said was a hard blow. It even hurts to think about it. You hated to admit that you missed him, but after remembering what he said, you just couldn’t help but be mad and angry.
“Sure you did, Johnny.” You shrugged his hands off. You crossed your arms across your chest, and couldn’t help but notice that Johnny looked down at you. “I don’t have time to listen to your excuses. Now if you excuse me…”
“You’ve changed Y/N.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair. His eyes ran over your body, probably checking out your outfit.
“I’m still the same person.” You looked back at him. “You’re the one who’s changed.”
“I…”
“Is hyung hitting on a girl?” You heard a voice call out in Korean. From the corner of your eye, you saw the other members of NCT 127 make their way towards you both.
“Hush. Maybe she's an old friend of his.” Mark replied in Korean, as they stopped in front of you and Johnny. He took your profile in, his eyes scanning up and down, and if he noticed who you were, he didn't say anything.
“Hyung, are you making this pretty girl cry?” Jungwoo asked, giving you a concerned look. It was like he didn't recognize you because he started to speak in broken English. “Oh, is Johnny making you sad?”
You giggled. That broken English of his was adorable. It made you want to protect him despite him being in his twenties. “I'm fine Jungwoo-ah. Your English is improving a lot. Speaking full sentences now!”
“She’s speaking Korean! Wait, she said my name. Do we know each other?” The man asked in Korean, as he looked at you, his face scrunched up. He had to remember you with the way his face lit up a few seconds later. “Oh! Y/N-noona!”
You nodded, a small smile lighting up your face. “Hi guys. It's good to see you again.”
“See? I told you we saw her, Mark.” Haechan frowned at Mark.
“Why'd you bolt out like that earlier?” Jaehyun asked seconds later. “Almost gave me and Haechan a heart attack.”
“I'm sorry.” You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. “I had a little too much to drink and thought you two were going to do something perverted.”
“More like you'd do something perverted, Y/N.” Mark chuckled, coming forward to give you a small hug. “It's been a year. We all miss you.”
“I missed you too, Mark.” You returned his hug, hands coming to pat his back lightly. “But can you let go of me now? My friends are going to fight you if you hug me too long.”
“What friends?” Mark muttered as he pulled away from you. You pointed behind him and he turned around, noticing the two girls who stood a few feet away, both glaring at him and the other members. “Them? They look like they won’t hurt a fly.”
“You’d be surprised.” Johnny answered back, his members giving him a confused look.
You nodded, Tori and Becca coming to your side instantly. They linked their arms with yours and stared at Mark, the male backing away. Johnny couldn't help but chuckle. You let out a small smile. “Hey, you two. Sorry about that. I needed a breather.”
“Were these guys bothering you, Y/N?” Tori asked menacingly, looking over at each of the guys.
“You're okay, right?” Becca looked you over, checking for any signs that you were hurt. She gestured to Mark. “That man over there didn't do anything inappropriate to you, did he?”
“Inappropriate?” Mark softly asked, Johnny stifling a laugh.
The girls both spoke to you in English, with only Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun understanding everything. The other five probably understood, since they were English capable on command. When did you start speaking to them in Korean? Heck, when did you start speaking in Korean when it was just Johnny and you alone earlier?
You shook your head. “It's okay, girls. They're friends of mines from Korea. Plus, I think you know one of them already, although I don't know if you'll recognize him.”
“Why would we know idols?” Becca asked, eyeing the members. Yeah, she really didn't know the group.
“I'd like to refer to ourselves as musicians and artists.” Johnny responded, suddenly throwing an arm around you. “Right, Y/N?”
You looked at him and debated on whether you should fling his arm off but then thought better of it. You couldn't let your friends think that you were having drama with the guys despite what happened a year ago. “Uh huh. Sure, Johnny. The boys think of themselves as musicians and artists. Tori, Becca, meet NCT 127. Guys, meet my best friends, Tori and Becca.”
“Before you introduce yourself,” Tori said to Johnny and gestured to the other members behind us. “Do they all even know English?”
“Yeah! It’s one thing to speak and understand English and it’s another when you memorize just words.” Becca inputted.
“Of course, they understand. They’re English capable. Apart from Mark and Jaehyun…” You sighed and ran a hair through your dark hair. Johnny tucked a random piece of your hair behind your ear and looked down at you, nodding at your answer. You looked up at him and gestured with your chin, “…and this guy, the others understand. Introduce yourself already.”
“Geez, okay. Don’t have to be mean about it.” Johnny, with his arm still around you, let out a chuckle. He lazily waved at the other two girls, leaning his tall frame unto your short one. “Hey guys. It’s your boy Johnny. Hope you guys remember me.”
Tori bit her lip. “Johnny…”
“I don’t remember a Johnny...” Becca asked, her face scrunched up. “Wait…OH! The one dude that always followed after Y/N back in high school?”
“I never followed after her.” Johnny grumbled. Despite the protest, you could tell he was enjoying the banter since his chest rumbled with laughter, ever so slightly. “She followed me.”
“Whatever, John Jun Suh.” You retorted, using his full name. You never used his full name unless it was to tease him or when you were mad with him. “You were following me, along with all the boys that were in my fan group. Goes to show that I was a beauty back in high school.”
Upon hearing the words coming from your lips, Johnny gave a side look, his eyes soft. His big smile turned into a small soft one. He replied in Korean, so Tori and Becca couldn’t hear. “You still are beautiful.”
“Hyung.” Doyoung frowned, obviously catching what the second eldest member said. “Don’t be flirting with Y/N-noona like that. You know how she gets.”
“Johnny,” Taeyong started, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. It was clear that the boys would be speaking in Korean, since they wouldn’t want the girls to know what was going on. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be casually flirting with Y/N.”
“Yeah, especially with what happened.” Jaehyun muttered, slightly concerned about how this was going to go down. Yuta nodded next to him.
“Are you guys dating?” Becca interrupted everyone as she pointed to you and Johnny. “Because you two look really friendly.”
Jaehyun responded with wide eyes but you shook your head, signaling that you had it under control.
“It’s okay, guys.” You smiled at them. Suddenly wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck, you gazed up at him. “You owe me for this. And don’t think I forgive you too.”
And before Johnny could respond at the sudden act of you wrapping your arms around him, you stood on your toes and pressed your lips to his.
Even you were surprised at your own actions.
What were you doing? Of all people, why is it Johnny Suh that you’re kissing?
Did you miss him that much that you just wanted to kiss him?
It couldn’t be. You and Johnny were friends. You’ve known each other for years and never once did he show any romantic interest in you or you in him.
You felt his strong arms coming to wrap around your lower back, his fingers lingering on the span of naked skin that was exposed from your clubbing outfit. You felt him tightening his hold on you, his soft lips slowly moving against yours, the deep breaths he took, the rise and fall of his chest. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his rapid heartbeat through the layers of his clothes and it made you wonder if he could feel yours.
You mentally scolded yourself, wondering why you were doing this. No, you shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t have kissed him just to have your friends think that you’re friendly with him. Or dating him. What will the boys think after? That you’re suddenly making a move on the eldest NCT member?
What would Johnny think?
Johnny rested his forehead against yours as you broke the kiss, trying to get his breathing back under control. His arms were still wrapped against your lower back, your own still around his neck. His eyes were closed, a small chuckle escaping from his lips. “Y/N…”
“Don’t.” You whispered, slightly shaking your head against his. “Don’t ruin the moment because it won’t happen again.”
He kept quiet, as if he was contemplating your words. He pulled his head back some, still holding on to you as he stared down at your face. “I─”
“We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” You heard Tori call out. Shit, you forgot about them. You glanced over to where she stood, her arms latched onto Yuta's right arm and Jaehyun’s left arm. The boys had confused expressions on their faces and looked at Johnny for some sort of guidance.
“Yeah, you two probably have a lot to catch up since it’s been a year since you last saw each other.” Becca nodded and you noticed that she too, had her arms latched onto Taeyong and Haechan. “So we’ll go back into the club with the guys.”
“You guys can drink, right?” Tori asked Jaehyun, who nodded in return. You watched as they walked into the club and you couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle when you saw the look on Mark’s face when he realized that he had to translate for everyone.
“Johnny-hyung!” Haechan called out, as Jaehyun shot you both a look. “Don’t do anything stupid!”
“What did he say?” Becca asked Mark, stopping momentarily as she nodded at Haechan. Mark shrugged in response as Becca just smiled and dragged the poor guys into the club.
“I miss that laugh and smile.” You heard Johnny mutter, still aware that his arms were settled on your lower back. He gave you a boyish grin and you couldn’t help but bite the inside of your cheeks before you let out a weird shriek. “So…can we talk about what’s going on between us?”
You shrugged yourself out of his grasp, moving away to put some distance between you both. Now this was awkward. Really awkward. You ran a hand through your hair and gestured to you both. “This kiss that happened between you and I, forget about it. It never happened.”
“Y/N.” Johnny started, coming to stand in front of you. “If you’re still mad about what happened a year ago─”
“I am!” You interrupted him and looked away. Did he not understand that what he said made you furious? “I’m still mad at you, Johnny. That fight, those words…I still remember it so clearly. I thought we were best friends and nothing could come between us, but I guessed wrong. What happened when we suddenly started fighting? What happened that made things take a wrong turn?”
“He happened.” Johnny muttered, looking down at the ground. “Ever since he came into the picture, things have changed between us. You started hanging out with him and his members more than you hung out with me and the rest of the guys. You’d blow off our plans to do other things with them.”
“You were mad because I had other friends?” You asked, with an airy sigh. “Johnny, you’re my best friend. Even if I made new friends, you’re the most important one. We grew up together.”
“Yeah. But people change Y/N.” Johnny said as he stepped in front of you and laid a hand on your arm. “You changed and I changed.”
You looked up at him and shrugged his hand off. “Because of him, huh? Because I was getting closer to him than anyone else.”
“He wasn’t good for you Y/N.” Johnny muttered as he returned the stare. “Anyone is better than him.”
“Like who?” You asked, watching as he averted his eyes. “The boys? You?”
“You know I’m only looking out for you.” Johnny replied back as he bit his lower lip. “You’re one of my best friends and I want what’s best for you. Taeil or Taeyong, heck even Jaehyun, was a better choice.”
Friends, huh?
Why was that a slight blow? Did you want something more from him? Were you expecting something else from him? You just felt disappointed and you didn’t even know why.
You just wanted to hear something else. Something that showed that he saw you as a woman and not a friend.
Even something little.
“Don’t deny that you guys aren’t together.” Johnny said, as he stuffed his hands in his pocket, and blew his hair from his face. “I know you too damn well to know when you lie to me.”
“Even a year later, nothing escapes you huh?” You muttered, as you crossed your arms across your chest. “Things wouldn’t have turned out this way if I hadn’t gone to his place in the middle of the night and kept my legs closed.”
“Wait, what? You slept with him?” Johnny asked, his voice somehow getting a bit loud. The wrinkles started to form on his forehead as he furrowed his eyebrows. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
You bit your lip and shook your head. “I’m not kidding Johnny. We had sex a few times. I never told you because I know how you get.”
“Y/N─” Johnny started but you shook my head.
“See, you’re doing it again.” You interrupted him as he ran a hand through his hair. “Can we not fight again, Johnny? I’m getting tired of always fighting with my best friend.”
“I’m not going to argue with you or anything.” Johnny sighed as he crossed his arms. “I just wished you’d told me. Then I could have prevented it from happening.”
“Prevented what? Having sex with him?” He nodded in reply and you let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m a grown woman who has urges, Johnny. I don’t prevent you from having sex with other girls.”
“What other girls?” He asked, blinking a few times.
“Don’t play dumb with me.” You muttered. “What girl wouldn’t want to sleep with a handsome guy like you?”
“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “So that explains everything, huh?”
“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. You were curious about why he never wanted you to date others. “Besides, I fell for his sweet stupid words and lies. Why don’t you want me dating other men? You can’t be jealous, can you?”
He turned away quickly and you caught a slight nod of his head. Just a slight nod. “Yeah, I get pretty jealous. It’s because…”
“Because…?” You cocked your head slightly, waiting for an answer.
“You’re my best friend.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s because Jaehyun likes you.” He muttered, averting his gaze away. He looked over to the small crowd that gathered around the venue’s door. “That’s why.”
“Jaehyun?” You scoffed. You knew Jawhyun didn’t like you. “Yeah right. Jaehyun’s in love with himself. What’s the real reason?”
“Okay, okay!” Johnny turned back towards you and took a deep sigh, before pulling you into his arms. He took you by surprise as he tightened his hold. He rested his chin on your head so that you couldn’t see his face. But his heart was beating pretty fast. “After I tell you this, I’m not sure if we can go back to what we were before. But still I have to say this. I like you Y/N. I tried to hold it down but I can’t do it anymore. It took me a long time to say this…but I really, really like you. Fuck, I might even love you.”
“Wait. What?” Before you could even let out another sound, he silenced you with a kiss. It was different from the one you gave him earlier. His was soft and tender and you couldn’t help but revel in it. It was different from other kisses you’ve had with other men and...you can’t believe you’re actually saying it...but you really like it.
“Johnny, say it again.” You breathed out in between kisses.
“Please don’t make me say it again.” He muttered against your lips, resting his forehead against yours. Johnny cupped your face with one of his big palms, his thumb softly caressing your cheek.
You let out an oddly satisfying sigh. “Or you’ll do what?”
“Geezes, woman.” He chuckled lightly before pecking you softly on the lips again. “You drive me crazy.”
Johnny wanted to hold hands in the club, but you weren’t quite ready yet. At least not mentally. Sure you both exchanged a couple more kisses here and there before making your way back into the venue. Sure your best friends thought that Johnny and you were a couple.
But you weren’t so sure about the boys. Hell, you don’t even know about your own damn feelings.
Were you a couple? Were you officially a thing?
Did you like Johnny like how he likes you? Or has it been so long since you felt the touch of another man, that your body is just yearning for him? Yeah, it had to be that. You had to be sexually frustrated to even think of sleeping with your best friend.
God, does he look good right now.
NO. NO. NO. NO.
Y/N, stop it. You’re just a bit horny all because Johnny just kissed you.
Stop it.
You looked over at him as he conversed with Tori and Becca, no doubt catching up on old times. As if sensing that you were looking at him, he turned his head to look at you and sent you a smile that made you weak in the knees and momentarily short of breath.
“You okay there, Y/N?” He asked in Korean, swiping at the hair that fell into his eyes. “Are you tired? Do you want to rest for a bit?”
You shook my head. “I’m okay, Johnny. Where are the boys? I haven’t seen them since we got back into the club.”
“Jaehyun went to the bar with Doyoung.” Johnny pointed towards the bar where you saw the three members waiting on their drinks. “Jungwoo went to the restroom and Mark, Haechan, Taeyong and Yuta are dancing in the corner over there.”
“Does he really dance like that?” Tori asked as she watched Taeyong dance.
“Yep.” Johnny nodded. “He’s one of the main dancers.”
The boys came back to your cozy spot at the club and settled themselves comfortably in the lush seats. Although not as fluent in English as Johnny, Mark or Jaehyun, the boys conversed in English as they tried to get to know Tori and Becca better.
“Where are you guys staying?” You randomly asked Johnny as he fiddled with the beer bottle in his hand. He opened another one and handed it to you. “At a hotel?”
“Nah, I’m crashing back at home for the duration of our stay here. The boys are at a hotel.” Johnny chuckled as he pulled out his phone and showed a recent picture he took with his mom. “Mom is pretty happy that I’m back home for once. Oh yeah, are you staying with your parents?”
“No, I got my own place.” You replied, as you cooed over the picture, complimenting how cute his mom was. “Mom and Dad were pretty disappointed that I moved out.”
“Because you keep bringing guys over?” Johnny joked as he slid his phone back into his pocket.
“It’s because I don’t bring guys over.” You rolled your eyes and Johnny couldn’t help but laugh.
“But imagine the look on our parents' faces if they knew we hooked up.” Johnny chuckled as he took a drink of his beer. So you were just hooking up, huh? “My mom would make you move in ASAP.”
“Not unless my mom makes you move in her house instead.” You laughed as well. “They live down the street, so I don’t understand why they make such a big deal over it.”
Johnny leaned back in his seat and looked over at you. His eyes seemed to roam along your whole body and for once, you felt pretty self-conscious around him. “It must be nice to have your own place though. I share a room with Haechan in the dorms.”
“You’d think by now you’d have your own place with the way you are bringing girls home.” You raised your eyebrows teasingly at him. “Hey, I had a weird thought. Did you want to stop by my place maybe later tonight?”
“Holy shit, Y/N.” Johnny let out, his chest rumbling in laughter.
Shit.
Did you really just say that? Did you really invite Johnny to come back to your apartment later? What in the hell is wrong with you?
You looked towards the others and noticed that Tori and Becca talked about some random hottie they saw on the dance floor. The boys seemed distracted by a group of young men and women dancing in front of them, Taeyong debating if he wanted to join them. But the look Johnny gave you, made you curse myself.
“Yah, Y/N.” Johnny started in Korean as he scooted closer to you, his hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer. “Are you inviting me over to your place to have fun?”
“Forget I said anything.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Who’d want to have fun with you?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said that girls can’t resist a handsome man like me.” Johnny chuckled as his fingers tapped against your naked midriff. “I’m handsome. I can dance. I have a deep voice for singing and rapping...”
“Dammit, Johnny.” You cursed aloud, the others looking your way. They raised their eyebrows before continuing their conversations and whatever the hell they were doing. “I hate you. I really hate you.”
Johnny moved his body even closer to yours and raised his eyebrows. “So onto a very touchy subject...How was sex with Hyunsik?”
Why did he bring that up? “It was okay, I guess.”
Im Hyunsik, one of BTOB’s vocalists and the father of majority of their music. The man you’ve slept with on numerous occasions. The man you had a scandal with. When was it that you started that forbidden relationship with Hyunsik?
Ah.
You were also promoting with the girl group you were in as well. You remembered after your performances, NCT 127 invited your group out for drinks but the other girls declined since they were quite a bit younger.
You met the members of BTOB at the restaurant you went to and despite being attached to the members of NCT at the hip, the guys in BTOB seemed to attract your interest. And before you knew it, you started to hang out with them more and become friends with them. You vaguely remember Hyunsik asking you to meet up with him alone one time but how the relationship progressed from being just friends to friends who have sex with each other...you don’t remember at all.
“Oh?” Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Hm…. I would’ve thought that Im Hyunsik would’ve blown your mind. I mean he is a great vocalist and probably has lots of skills.”
“Yah. Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, Johnny Suh.” You muttered, seemingly distracted by him. “And stop mentioning his name. It’s weird.”
“So then you don’t mind me asking…” Johnny smirked as he leaned his face closer to yours. “What do you think about us going to your place and just fuck?”
“What did you just say, Johnny?” You heard him wrong, right?
Johnny gave you a slight smirk, his long fingers touching, caressing, my naked midriff. You could see from the corner of your eyes that Tori and Becca were watching you both and if the boys saw it too, they probably ignored it. “You know what I said. Let’s go back to your place. Unleash the beast. Let this soldier have the spoils of war. Fuck.”
“Did you compare yourself as a soldier and me as the spoils of war?” You asked, scrunching your nose. You could care less about his vulgar language considering you used it pretty often, but did this guy really compare himself to a soldier?
“Did you like that? It was good, huh?” He asked, pretty proud of himself for coming up with that analogy. “Man, I’m a genius.”
“What a loser.” You rolled your eyes and looked at him. Just because he was being a tease, you thought you’d tease him back by running a finger down his chest. He took a sharp breath, his eyes wide. “But I’m down to let this soldier surround himself in his spoils of war.”
“Geezes, woman.” Johnny let out as he tried to control his breathing. “Were you like this with Hyunsik?”
“Yah,” you frowned and stopped. “Didn’t I say not to mention his name?”
He frowned as he grabbed hold of your finger. “Well, I don’t know what type of things you do with Hyunsik. Did you tease him like this too?”
You shook your head. “No. He did most of the teasing.”
His face lit up when you said that. He looked like a happy child at the candy store, surrounded by a whole bunch of sweets. “Ouuu~ So I get to experience sweet little Y/N’s teasing.”
“Go get a room, you two.” Tori called out, Becca nodding beside her. “We know you guys missed each other but come on.”
“Yeah. Go explore each other elsewhere.” Becca added, holding in her laugh. She turned to Tori, a big smile on her face. “I can’t believe today is the day we see Y/N with a guy.”
“And not even telling us about him, at all.” Tori shook her head in disappointment. “How could you not tell us that you had a boyfriend? Were you scared that we wouldn’t approve of Johnny?”
“I forgot to be honest.” You shrugged. You and Johnny were not a couple. You’d probably never be. At least you think so. “And you were always annoyed with Johnny back in high school. If I remember correctly, you kept getting annoyed with him whenever he signed up for the talent show.”
“Well this was before he started to sound so good!” Tori exclaimed, giving Johnny a sad frown. But it was only for a little while until her expression changed into that of a fangirl.
“And before he started to look this good too.” Becca raised an eyebrow in appreciation. “Damn, what a glow-up. Y/N, you lucky bitch.”
“Stop giving him googly eyes, Becca.” You pinched her arm and she jumped in response. You gave her a small smile. “He’ll start getting a big head if you compliment him like that.”
Taeyong was sitting across from us, shaking his head in disapproval as the girls and Johnny laughed. He spoke in Korean, giving you and Johnny a frown. “Johnny, didn’t we tell you not to flirt with Y/N like that?”
“They haven’t seen each other in a year because of you-know-who and now they’re back to being normal.” Doyoung pouted.
Normal? Things did not get back to being normal, Doyoung.
If anything, it took a weird turn.
You had the biggest fight ever with Johnny a year ago, got reunited with him a few hours ago, kissed him like thirty minutes ago while he confessed to liking you, and now he wants to have sex with you. That’s normal?
Oh, Kim Doyoung, you cute, innocent man.
“So noona and hyung are back to being friends?” Haechan asked as he shook his leg to the music.
Jungwoo shrugged. “I think so. Hyung, are you and noona back to being friends?”
Johnny looked at you, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Oh yeah. We’re back to being friends. Right, Y/N?”
That wink. Why did he have to do that? Be still your heart.
Johnny is just your best friend. Just your best friend of many, many years. A friend who is apparently attracted to you. Nothing more, nothing less…
But what if…? No.
You doubt Hyunsik will care about what you did or who you do. And if he does, you’d deal with that matter the next time you’re in Seoul.
If you ever return.
“Yeah, we’re back to being friends.” You nodded, not letting Johnny’s suggestive tone get to you. “Oh yeah. Do you guys want to go to my apartment so we can just chill and catch up?”
Johnny furrowed his eyebrows, when he heard you invite the others.
Johnny Suh, I can not be alone with you anytime soon. You are apparently not good for my heart.
“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s kind of getting a bit late out so we’ll visit tomorrow if you don’t mind.” Taeyong smiled, the others agreeing.
“Johnny could walk you home though.” Mark nudged Johnny playfully. “Right?”
“Yeah. I don’t mind.” Johnny chuckled, glad that the boys were bailing.
Damn.
You thought you could get away with it, but apparently not. You told the girls that you were going to head home and they happily saw you and Johnny off. It had taken you about maybe fifteen minutes to walk back to your apartment since you didn’t live that far from the club. You opened your door and let Johnny in, he took off his shoes and slowly padded into your territory.
Your somewhat empty territory.
“Yeah… Sorry it looks empty.” You muttered as you scratched the back of your head. Your living room barely had any furniture apart from the couch, a coffee table, the TV, and a keyboard on one side of the wall. Your kitchen only had the basics such as a microwave, a coffee pot, and a few pots and pans scattered around the counter. “I haven’t had the time or money to buy more things.”
“I hope you don’t sleep on the floor.” Johnny shook his head as he took in the condition of the apartment.
“Nah, my bedroom is the only place that has the most furniture.” You laughed as he plopped himself on the couch. “I spend most of my time there anyway. Writing lyrics, composing music, playing the guitar, and sleep.”
“You still playing the guitar?” Johnny asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. Just because I couldn’t when I was an idol doesn’t mean I stopped playing it.” You muttered as you sat next to him. “Now that I’m no longer in the group, I could write my own music and play the guitar all I want.”
“I want to hear one of your songs one day.” Johnny took your hand in his big ones and entwined your fingers together. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I know. You’re amazing too.” You smiled up at him, he returned an even bigger smile.
“I really am sorry, Y/N.” Johnny muttered as he brought his other hand to tuck your hair behind your ears. “If I had the chance to return back to that time, I would have told you how I felt, how I like you. You would’ve been mine and you wouldn’t have been in this predicament. You wouldn’t have this scandal staining your reputation. You could have been happy with me.”
“I get it. And I accept your apology.” You gave him a soft smile. “But what’s done is done, Johnny. We can only move forward.”
“Moving forward, huh?” He let out a small laugh before leaning his body closer to yours, his hands on my waist. “Let’s move forward together.”
He closed the distance between you both and sensually placed a trail of kisses down your collarbone. Oh God. You loved it when he did that.
“So I guess we should talk about the future then.” Johnny stated as he bit your neck softly, his teeth grazing your skin.
“Uh huh.” You hummed as he trailed kisses down your shoulder, nibbling on your skin gently. “The future.”
“I don’t want to put you in this difficult position.” He looked up at you, those warm brown eyes brightening up.
Difficult position? As in sexually frustrated?
As in sexually frustrated, wanting to devour you?
Whoops. Way to give him ideas.
But no, you wanted to move forward, make something real. Even if it was just a one night stand even though you wanted more.
“Then what do you want?” You smirked, knowing exactly where this was heading. The kiss became harder, the movements more passionate. You grind your hips against his as he moaned in pleasure, both of you breaking away for a second to catch your breath.
“What I want is you. For as long as I want. I don’t want to leave your side anymore.” His words sent chills down your spine, goosebumps appearing on your skin. “I want to spend every waking moment with you. Whether we’re in Korea or America. Even if it’s just eating meals together, walking through the park, working out, watching movies, singing karaoke, spending holidays with each other, I want to spend every single second of my life with you. All of you.”
Wait, hold up. What? “What did you say?”
“Everything I said.” He grinned, a dimple appearing on his left cheek. “All of it. Every word.”
“You’re crazy.” You whispered. You hadn’t expected him to say that. Of course, you had hoped that he liked you but that was taking it to another level.
“Am I?” He asked, cupping your cheek with his hand. “Tell me. Is that crazy?”
You’d never thought someone could love you that much. Someone who wasn’t family or a lover. But Johnny loves you that much. You’re loved by someone else other than yourself. By someone who also made you feel special. Loved.
You squeezed his hand tight, loving the feeling of his rough thumb running circles over your palm. “No, Johnny. You’re not crazy. I’m speechless.”
His lips met yours again, his tongue pushing its way past your lips, teasing you. You parted your mouth, welcoming his tongue inside, caressing yours, dancing along them in perfect harmony. It felt like nothing you had ever experienced before, every touch, every kiss, every movement meant something, each syllable spoken and breathed into your ear created memories to last forever. It was as if nothing existed outside of this moment right now, this connection between the two of you.
You broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his, breathing heavily.
“You’re too good to me.” You muttered. “How am I supposed to reciprocate this?”
“What do you mean?” Johnny cocked his eyebrow, clearly not understanding your question.
“I don’t deserve you.” You admitted, tears starting to form in your eyes. “Not after what happened. Not after how I left.”
“Y/N…” Johnny pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Please don’t cry. I can’t handle seeing you sad. Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” You cried as he held onto you tighter. "I should hate you for pushing me away. But I don't. I can't."
"I know I shouldn't have gotten mad." Johnny started. "For me to blame you was wrong. So fucking wrong. That was all me. I got jealous. I was insecure. I'm just a stupid man."
"Don't apologize." You sniffled. "Apologizing means you're admitting that you're at fault. You're not at fault, Johnny. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."
"Y/N…" Johnny sighed, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "I've always wanted to tell you this. That I love you. That I like you. That you have this effect on me. That whenever I'm around you, my entire world stops. That I could stare at you for hours without moving a muscle. That when you touch me, it's electrifying. That when you look at me, I can't help but fall in love. That I'm not a person, I'm a pile of melting ice cream when you look at me. That I become this jumbled mess when I think of you. When I think of us. You are everything. Everything to me."
"Me too, Johnny." You giggled as you kissed him again, you pushed him back on the couch so you could straddle his lap. You ran your hands through his messy locks, brushing his bangs out of his face. "When I think of you, I'm instantly happy. Everything else fades away. Nothing matters when I'm with you. My anxiety, my fears, my doubts, my insecurities… They all go away."
"And I need you, baby. So much. Like air." Johnny brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb running along your jawline. "I don't want to be without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need you to fill that void in my heart. You're the only one for me."
"Johnny..." Your voice cracked as you tried to speak. Your heart was racing so fast, pounding so hard that you swore it would explode. Tears continued to fall from your eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Of course, baby." He chuckled. "Do you see anyone else sitting here besides you?"
"There's no one else but you." You mumbled, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Only you."
"Good. Because I'll never let you go." He murmured as his hand traveled down your stomach, towards your inner thighs.
You gasped loudly as he pressed a finger between your folds. "Oh god... Oh god, oh god, oh god."
"Ah, you like that?" Johnny teased as he lightly rubbed your clit with his middle finger. "Oh, you're so wet, Y/N. So hot."
"I need you. Now." You pleaded. "Right now, Johnny. Please."
"I'm not going anywhere." He whispered against your ear.
You don’t when or how, but both of you were suddenly naked. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably as he slid two fingers inside you, causing you to moan. You weren't even close to reaching climax yet, he had to stop. You needed him to slow down, prolong the pleasure until you could no longer bear it. Until your body couldn't take any more. You moaned louder, making him smile seductively.
"I bet you like this." He murmured, spreading your pussy open. "Wanting it, craving it. Telling me that you need me, that you want me. Don't deny it. Let go, baby. Let me take control. You won't regret it."
You nodded silently, closing your eyes. You felt his lips brush against your neck, your breasts, your abdomen. He traced little hearts all across your body with his tongue. Each touch, each lick, each kiss had you gasping in pleasure. One more minute and you'd come undone, panting as you writhed against his hand. "Johnny, please..."
"That's it, baby. Come for me." Johnny whispered as he continued to rub your clit. "Come on. Cum for me. Let go. Give me everything."
It was torture. You knew that once you came, he'd stop. And you didn't want that. It was bad enough that he had put you in this situation, why did he have to ruin it by stopping? You reached down and grasped his wrist, pulling his fingers away from you. He didn't resist, merely watched as you quickly brought your lips to his hand, sucking on his fingers. You hummed as his fingers touched your tongue, tasting yourself, tasting him. You moved his fingers back to your sex, licking them clean before pushing them inside you.
"Ah fuck." Johnny groaned as he watched you do whatever you pleased with his fingers. "You're killing me, baby."
"Sorry." You hummed, kissing his fingers once more before replacing them inside you. "But I really want to cum. I need to cum."
"You're damn right you need to come." Johnny growled, bringing his other hand up to cup your breast. "You've been denied for far too long. Just thinking about it has me horny as hell."
He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. You whimpered as he placed his fingers back in your mouth, letting you suckle on them once more. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body flush against his. "God, I need to be inside you."
"Please." You panted.
"Where, baby?" Johnny questioned, his fingers tracing patterns across your stomach. "Should I go deep or shallow? Should I use my fingers or just shove my cock inside you?"
You shivered, his words making your body quiver with excitement. "Shove your cock in me, Johnny. Please."
He grinned, opening your legs wide, his erection bobbing in front of your face. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Y/N." He whispered, lightly running his thumb over your nipple. "So very hard."
You grabbed onto his shoulders, clinging onto him as he positioned himself between your legs. He pressed forward, his length rubbing against your slit, causing you to squirm and moan.
"Yes, baby. So beautiful." Johnny mumbled, lowering himself so that the head of his cock brushed against your entrance. "I want to slide inside you so badly."
"Please." You whined, biting down on your lip as he pushed forward slightly. The head of his cock slipped inside you, stretching you gently. His shaft pushed against the walls of your vagina, forcing you to widen your legs slightly. You arched your back as he penetrated you deeper, sighing as he filled you completely. "Oh god... You're so big, Johnny."
"Damn, you feel amazing." Johnny groaned as he began to thrust inside you.
"Goddamn, you feel amazing." Johnny echoed as he continued to thrust in and out of you.
You clung onto his shoulders, rocking your hips back and forth, meeting his thrusts perfectly. Each thrust caused you to moan louder, your body begging for more. "Fuck, Johnny. Please fuck me harder. Harder, faster."
"Give me everything, baby." Johnny panted as he fucked you hard. "All of you. Cum for me."
You gave him everything. Every bit of yourself. Giving in to his demands, accepting his commands, doing whatever he asked of you. Doing anything he told you to. All because he made you feel so fucking amazing. As you exploded around him, your orgasm pulsating within your womb, you came apart in his arms, screaming his name over and over again.
“Fuck! Johnny!”
"Oh god, baby." Johnny whispered as he slowed his thrusts. "I've never felt anything like that before. I'm cumming."
You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation. You wrapped your arms around his neck, locking your legs around his waist, grinding against him as he shot his load inside you. He collapsed against you, both of you catching your breath.
"Holy shit, that was intense." You laughed, kissing him on the lips. "I haven't cum like that in like a year."
"Fucking hell, Y/N." Johnny cursed, wiping sweat off his brow. "You took my breath away."
"You did that to me." You laughed, grinning as you snuggled into his chest. "Let's go to bed. My bedroom is right over there."
"Yeah." Johnny smiled. "Bed sounds great."
"So does being in your arms." You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him.
"It doesn't get much better than this, Y/N." Johnny said softly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing on the bedside table next to you. Slowly getting up, you rubbed your eyes, the sunlight glaring through the curtains. You picked up your phone and looked at the screen, groaning when you saw Mark's name lighting up.
Pressing the green icon on your phone screen, you pressed the cellular device against your ear.
“Ugh, it’s so early, Mark. What do you want?” You muttered out, the blankets pooling around your waist. Your skin was sticky from the aftermath of whatever occurred during the previous night.
“Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty. Johnny over there?”
“Mmhmm. Why?” You let out, a muscular arm reaching out from the covers to squeeze your hip. You slapped his hand away, prompting him to peek his head out from the sheets to frown at you.
“He ain't answering his phone. Plus his mom keeps calling us.”
“What did you tell her?”
“We said something about him meeting up with old friends and spending the night there or something.” You heard him mutter from the other side. There were groans from the distance and someone muttering about coffee, so you assumed the boys were all getting up from their sleep. “Just call his mom and let her know that you finally slept with her precious son.”
“Yah. Why do I have to be the one to tell his mom that we finally fucked?” You asked, looking at the man next to you, a mischievous smile on his face.
“Because you’re close to his parents. I mean your parents and his parents are friends right?”
“Yeah… But I don’t want to tell Johnny's mom that we had sex.” You groaned out, Johnny chuckling softly next to you. “It’s just so weird. Johnny's mom would probably tell my mom. And then my mom would probably tell me to lock Johnny down...”
“Well...not my problem! Have fun!”
“Yah! Mark Lee! Mark! He hung up.” You frowned when you noticed he disconnected the call. Shaking your head and leaving the warmth of your bed and Johnny's arms, you grabbed the closest towel you could find. You went to the other side of the bed and shook the muscular figure. “Johnny, stop pretending to be asleep. Go call your mom.”
“And tell my mom that we had wild, passionate sex?” Johnny grinned, suggestively raising one eyebrow.
“Nevermind. Don’t.” You shook your head. “I don’t want your mom to suddenly be treating me differently just because I took her son’s virginity.”
“I was not a virgin and you know it.” Johnny pouted. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been screaming my name so loudly last night.”
“I hate you Johnny Suh.” You replied back, your cheeks suddenly turning pink. You had to admit...he was good in bed.
“Mmhmm, I know. Are you going to shower?” Johnny muttered against the bedsheets, his eyes soft. You nodded. “Want me to join you?”
“If you did that, we’d never leave my apartment.” You chuckled as you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. You moved towards the bathroom and gave him a small smile. “Can you start the coffee while I grab the shower first?”
“Why don’t we just shower together?” Johnny muttered as he sat up in bed, scratching his bare chest. “It’ll save us time.”
“You make a good point…” You scrunch your nose and then shake your head. “But no. Knowing you, we’ll be doing other things than shower.”
“Damn. It was worth a try.” Johnny mumbled under his breath as you chuckled and retreated to the bathroom. Swinging his feet out of bed and shrugging on his jeans, he made his way towards the kitchen to start up the coffee maker. He looked towards the bathroom, noticing that the door was wide open. “How do you like your coffee!?”
“Black please!” You called out through the bathroom door, the sound of the shower running.
Johnny chuckled, walking away from the coffee maker as it continued brewing. He went into the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe, eyebrows raised as he made out your silhouette behind the shower curtains. “You sure you don’t want it sweet and creamy like me?”
“You’re so weird Johnny.” You peeked out from the curtains and made a face. You nodded towards the shower. “But since you were being such a cutie by making coffee, you might as well join me.”
“Score!” He called out, discarding whatever clothing he had on and joined you in the shower.
SUMMARY | You're best friends with Johnny and have had feelings for him for awhile. You think he's only attracted to you because of your tattoos but it's so much more.
PAIRINGS | Johnny/Fem!Reader
GENRE | non-idol au, college au, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, fluff towards the end
RATING | Mature
LENGTH | 10,114 words
AUTHOR’S NOTE | This turned out longer than I expected LOL. So in this one, all the members I mentioned are the same age lolol.
I hope it makes sense. Does it make sense?? I feel like my writing style has been wonky lately.
NCT Main Masterlist
“Those are real, aren’t they?” Johnny asked you as he leaned against your bedroom wall. Taeyong and Yuta were lounging on your bed before joining the party that was going on in your living room. Johnny was looking at the various tattoos that were on your left arm.
You and Johnny have been best friends since your freshman year of college. Although you both have very different personalities and interests, there was one thing that kept you close together: partying. It's your last year of college and despite all the stress from studying and taking exams, you still got together every now and again to do what you all did best.
Drink, dance, and make memories.
Johnny is wearing a silk button-down shirt and black slacks. And then there was you in a tight mini skirt and a one-shouldered top that accentuated your figure and showed off your tattoo sleeve.
You looked good.
Even though it wasn’t what most people would consider a typical Friday night out, you, Johnny and other mutual friends seemed happy enough as you stood in front of the mirror checking out each other.
That was until you caught Johnny staring at your body with an expression that suggested he wanted more than just a quick look. The silence between you both grew awkward and uncomfortable until you finally broke it by saying, “What? Are my tits distracting you or something?”
He snapped out of his trance with a surprised look on his face, causing you to smile. He quickly apologized for staring, but said that he was genuinely interested in your ink. You nodded in response, knowing exactly what he meant by that. There was no denying the amount of attention you always got when wearing a low-cut top or a revealing dress. Your tattoo sleeve was another story though. People either loved them or hated them.
Despite the interest from many men, you never really considered getting any more tattoos after you finished your sleeves because, frankly, your current ones turned heads even if you wore a burlap sack. It wasn't uncommon for you to get double takes from people you knew as well as complete strangers when walking around town. On top of that, you didn't want to mess up the awesome artwork that had already been drawn onto your skin. Your current sleeves represented some of your favorite memories, which you didn't ever want to lose. So while others spent thousands of dollars on inked bodies, you got yourself beautiful pieces of art that couldn't be taken away.
Still, you couldn't help but notice how excited Johnny appeared whenever he saw you in your sexy outfits. As far as you could tell, he never missed an opportunity to stare at your tattoos, or check you out whenever you walked by him. Sometimes you would catch him ogling you in such a way that you felt like he wanted to rip off your clothes right there in public. Of course, there was no way he'd actually do anything like that. He wasn't that kind of guy.
Besides, you knew for a fact that he had a girlfriend who also attended the same college as you. They had been dating for about a few months, so she was obviously important to him. Still, whenever he caught you wearing something tight or sexy, he couldn't help but show off those sinful eyes of his.
With everyone gathered in yours and Ten's living room, you tried to ignore the eye candy standing across from you as you and your friends continued to talk about meaningless things, like where you should go for dinner later tonight. You weren't even sure why you brought it up. Maybe you were bored, maybe you were drunk, or maybe you just needed something to keep your mind occupied. But whatever the reason, somehow the conversation ended up on the topic of sexual partners. When it comes to sexual encounters, your friends tend to live by the motto: if you haven't had sex with anyone, then you're not having fun.
You hadn't given much thought to that phrase until Jaehyun wiggled his eyebrows at you. "We all know that Y/N has fun doesn't she?"
You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your lips. "I've been told I have a knack for keeping people entertained."
"She can entertain me anytime!" Ten shouted. "Have you seen her ass in that red dress she wears?"
You couldn't help but laugh. That comment got everybody else laughing too.
"Anyways," You muttered before clearing your throat and turning towards Taeyong, "How many women have you slept with?"
Taeyong glanced over at Yuta and grinned, "Four, but it's probably more. Do you need me to give you a count?"
Ten let out a small laugh before replying, "Four isn't bad. Don't think I'll ever get that high, although the number would probably increase if Yuta would stop trying to fuck everything that moves. Especially anything that moves."
You burst out laughing, followed by Yuta who laughed even harder. Eventually Ten joined in, as did Jaehyun, and everyone else that was listening.
“But back to the question at hand,” Taeyong spoke up once he was able to calm down. He looked over at you, “how many men have you slept with?”
Johnny grabbed a bottle of beer from the kitchen counter and took a swig of it. He looked at you curiously.
"Well...if we include Jaehyun, Doyoung, Mark, Hendery and Renjun..." You counted, the men you called out looking at you for a brief moment before going back to whatever they were doing. "Five. But hey, who's counting? Sex is sex."
That answer seemed to satisfy Johnny, although he continued to watch you carefully. You noticed that he was taking an interest in your tattoos again. You shrugged it off as you and your friends continued talking, however your heart began to beat faster when you realized that he was no longer looking at your tattoos. His eyes were locked on yours.
"Hey guys,” Jungwoo called out to the rest of your group, waving a hand in front of their faces. “Who wants to get more beer and food with me?"
Thank you Jungwoo, for your timely interruption. You weren't sure how long you could last with Johnny staring at you. In fact, your knees started to feel a little weak when he cleared his throat to gain your attention. It was almost like he was daring you to say something. Something inappropriate, to be exact. But you had to be strong. After all, he was with his girlfriend.
"Uh, yeah," You replied, forcing a smile onto your face. “Let's go get some food and drinks."
You turned around, ready to follow Jungwoo into the kitchen. You paused for a second to take one last look at Johnny, and saw him watching you intently. You smiled sheepishly before stepping inside the kitchen to join your friends.
You turned around to see Johnny coming towards you. He didn't speak for a minute, so you waited patiently. "So, have you had fun yet?"
Your brows furrowed. You expected him to ask you if you were enjoying yourself. Instead he was asking you a completely different question. You wondered what this was all about, so you replied, "Of course I'm having fun! Why wouldn't I be?"
Before he could respond, Xiaojun called out. "Yo, Johnny! Jieun is here."
Fuck. Johnny's girlfriend.
You sighed inwardly as you watched him walk away with Xiaojun to greet her. If only he wasn't dating someone you actually knew. Then maybe he'd pay you the proper amount of attention.
Oh well. No use thinking about it.
You shook your head and focused on your friends. You hadn't seen them in awhile, so you welcomed the chance to hang out with them again. Plus, the alcohol helped to loosen your tongue, which allowed you to ask some of the questions you had been wondering about for quite some time.
"So, guys," you said, pouring some vodka into a glass. "Is it true that Renjun hooked up with someone last week?"
Renjun choked on his beer. You covered your mouth to hide your laughter. Kun let out a loud groan. Haechan let out a loud chuckle. Even Taeyong chuckled quietly.
You couldn't believe that they were being so open with you. It was like you were part of the group, and you liked it. You weren't sure if they realized that, but you were grateful nonetheless.
As soon as you saw Renjun regaining his composure, you spoke up again. "So, how many girls have you banged so far?"
Mark snorted. "Including you? Like eight or nine."
Kun guffawed. "More like twenty."
A shocked expression formed on your face. It was funny to hear their numbers compared to yours, but even funnier was hearing their reactions. Their reactions made you realize just how ridiculous their answers were. For example, Kun's claim that he had fucked more than twenty women in his lifetime was preposterous. However, you didn't dare bring it up.
Renjun shrugged. "I dunno. A lot."
Mark nodded. "At least ten."
Jungwoo scoffed. "No fucking way. Five tops."
"Bet none of those girls were as good as Y/N." Jaehyun reminded them, giving you a look. You rolled your eyes as he continued to talk. "And to everyone at this party that had sex with her, admit that she was good."
"I admit, I'm a good fuck." You shrugged, a small smirk on your lips. You nudged Jaehyun's shoulder. "Now shut up."
You all stared at each other for a minute before bursting out laughing. The alcohol was definitely starting to hit you hard, making you forget all about Johnny and his girlfriend. All that mattered was that you were surrounded by friends, having a good time, and drinking.
It wasn't long before Ten, Mark, Kun, Haechan, Taeyong and you were sitting on the floor, passing around beers and shots as you waited for Jungwoo and Yuta to return with the food. And even though you were tipsy, you managed to hold your liquor fairly well. Until you drank the tequila shot you took right before going to get more drinks.
“So, Y/N.” Haechan drawled out, looking at you intently. You glanced at the tequila in your hands, your vision getting hazy. How much have you actually drunk so far?
“What?” you asked, shrugging. “What are you talking about?”
Haechan frowned. "You okay? You look wasted."
"Yeah, you look wasted Y/N." Taeyong said, as he put his drink down.
Your vision was getting worse. You felt dizzy. Your body was hot, then cold, then hot again. Fuck, you were going to pass out if you kept this up. You reached for the bottle of water next to you, holding it tightly against your chest. You closed your eyes for a second, concentrating on slowing your breathing. You managed to slow it down a bit, but you still felt lightheaded. Before you knew it, your vision blurred again. When you opened your eyes, you found everyone staring at you. Except for Taeyong. He was standing in front of you, looking very concerned.
"Taeyong." You whispered, unable to form any words. He held out his arms, inviting you to step into them.
"Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed." He said gently.
"Y/N." Johnny stepped forward, his face showing concern. His girlfriend laid a hand on his arm, suggesting that he stay put. "Are you okay?"
You nodded and stumbled, reaching for the couch, only to find it further away than you remembered. Without thinking, you leaned against Haechan instead. As you dozed off, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.
"Johnny, what's wrong?" The pretty girl next to him muttered. "Is everything alright?"
Johnny watched from the corner of his eyes as his friends helped Y/N up from her drunken stupor. Was she okay? "It's nothing, Jieun."
"I hope she's alright." Jieun muttered, arms still clinging to him. "She seems so drunk."
"Don't worry about her, babe." Johnny assured her. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."
"Why are you always protecting her?" Jieun released a soft sigh.
"Because she's special to me." Johnny answered simply.
He gave her a small smile before turning his attention back to his friends. He really missed the opportunity to spend time with his friends and Y/N.
He sighed. Of course he missed her. Even though he hadn't been able to spend much time with her lately, whenever they were together, they always had fun. She was kind and caring. Whenever they hung out, he felt a sense of comfort wash over him. It wasn't until tonight that he realized how lucky he was to have her in his life.
In the beginning, it was all easy. They met at a party thrown by their classmates. Since Johnny had recently moved to Seoul, most of his friends struggled to communicate with him. So when his friend Jaehyun told him about the event being held by another foreign exchange student, he figured that it would be a good chance to meet new people. Little did he know that meeting Y/N would change his life forever.
They hit it off instantly, flirting shamelessly. They had no problem joking around and teasing each other. At first, it had been innocent, simple conversations, whether it was about the weather or their favorite movies. They stayed as friends since Y/N was currently in a relationship, but every once in a while, they still got together to hang out. On those occasions, they spent their time watching movies, going to karaoke bars, eating out, and shopping. They had mutual friends who always seemed to drag them along to the hottest clubs and parties.
Those times together were always memorable. He remembered the time when he helped Ten and Y/N find an apartment together since they were going to be roommates. There were nights where Y/N had gotten sick from drinking too much, falling asleep on Johnny's chest. Or times when he found himself helplessly straddling Y/N as they snuck into his apartment. He never questioned the level of their intimacy; after all, Y/N was a beautiful, smart, and sweet girl. In return, Johnny was respectful of her relationships with other men.
But the thought of Y/N with anyone else made him physically ill.
For several months, things continued this way. Eventually, they both became more serious with their respective partners. When that happened, they had trouble finding time to see each other. The good news was that they'd grown closer, becoming each other's best friends. During those moments when they saw each other, they'd always make sure to give the other person plenty of affection. It was obvious that neither one of them wanted to lose their friendship. Still, it was difficult not to get hurt every now and again.
Johnny would often ask himself why he didn't act sooner.
What stopped him from telling Y/N how he truly felt? He knew that he was attracted to her, especially after seeing how they interacted together. She made him laugh, genuinely enjoying his humor. It was impossible not to notice how sexy she looked when she was laughing at his jokes. Plus, she smelled amazing. When he breathed in her scent, it reminded him of chocolate. Or strawberry ice cream. Something sweet and fruity that melted his heart every time he inhaled it. But still, he kept his feelings bottled up inside.
Today was no exception.
Seeing Y/N dress in that mini skirt and that top that accentuated her figure, he had to try hard to stop himself from kissing her senseless. Heck, he knew she had tattoos but at the time, there were only a few. Now she had a whole sleeve of them. All over her left arm. Most of them seemed quite intricate and detailed, depicting nature scenes, symbols, even people. She had an incredible eye for detail and, based on her art, Johnny guessed that she had a lot of patience. It was one of the many reasons why he loved hanging out with her. They could talk for hours, even if they had absolutely nothing in common. There was always an instant connection between them, almost as if they were two halves of a whole.
Johnny glanced over at Jieun, his current girlfriend.
No.
Just the girl that he’s currently just sleeping with.
Jieun was pretty, don't get him wrong. She had short hair and bright brown eyes, delicate features and a slender frame. But when compared to Y/N, she didn't stand a chance. Compared to her, Y/N seemed like a goddess. Y/N was tall, slender, toned in all the right places. She was tan, and had long, black hair that she often ran her fingers through. Not only did she possess all of the qualities that Johnny desired, but she also had a personality that stole his heart. For years, he had been silently pining for her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't deny the fact that she was perfect for him.
But no matter how much he liked Jieun, he could never forget Y/N. The truth was that Y/N was just so different from everyone else. She never hesitated to show her true self, whatever that meant. Whether she was crying over a sad movie or dancing ecstatically at a club, he knew that she wouldn't lie to him or hold anything back. Her honesty made her extremely endearing. She was funny and carefree, and unlike some girls, she had a positive outlook on life. If it wasn't for Y/N, Johnny doubted that he would've made it through all the crap he went through during college.
No doubt, Johnny had fallen for her. But he refused to act on those feelings. To do so would be unfair to Jieun, despite them not really dating. More importantly, Y/N deserved someone better than him. Someone who actually appreciated her beauty and unique traits. She deserved someone who loved her unconditionally and showed it in every aspect of their relationship.
Johnny watched as Jieun struck up a conversation with the other party-goers. His attention went back to Y/N and how drunk she looked earlier. He wished that he could've done something to prevent her from embarrassing herself. Y/N was the last person he wanted to hurt.
The next thing you remember was waking up on the couch, your head resting on someone’s lap. Haechan was still sleeping soundly, and so were all of your friends except for Yuta. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Everyone looked so peaceful.
"Ugh, my head." You moaned as you sat up. "This hangover is going to kill me."
"Can I get you anything?" Ten asked, coming out of his bedroom. He looked around the living room, noticing that the people who didn't make it home last night, were all passed out on the floor or on the couch.
You rubbed your forehead, getting up and padding towards the kitchen. “Coffee, please.”
He handed you the mug and a pack of Advil. "Are you feeling better?"
"Just peachy." You replied sarcastically. "Not at all.”
Ten laughed. "Don't worry, you'll feel better tomorrow."
As soon as he walked back into the living room to wake everyone up, you finished your mug of coffee and padded into your bedroom to freshen up. You went through your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. You needed to dress casual, since you planned on spending most of the day lounging around the house, drinking coffee and playing games. Unfortunately, you couldn't decide between wearing sweatpants or shorts. Finally, after much deliberation, you chose to pair leggings with a gray tank top. Once you were done, you wandered back into the living room to wait for everyone else to wake up.
You didn't need to wait too long. Before you knew it, Taeyong and Renjun joined you at the kitchen table with cups of coffee. Mark rubbed at his eyes, sitting up from the couch, Haechan stirred next to him.
“Where did you two sleep?” You asked Taeyong and Renjun, curious.
Taeyong gave you a pointed look. “Like on the floor. At least Yuta was against the wall.”
You grinned. "I'm surprised no one took over my bed."
"I'm surprised no one put you to bed," Yuta muttered as he joined the group.
"Haechan was hogging her on the couch." Mark sleepily muttered.
"I was going to help her to her room but then I got sleepy and she was sleepy," Haechan yawned. "So we both passed out on the couch."
"Who didn't go home last night?" You asked Ten .
"Mark, Haechan, Renjun, Taeyong, and Yuta." Taeil replied. "Oh. Kun passed out on my bedroom floor."
“Haha. Let's go get breakfast once they wake up. What should we do today?” You asked the group of hungover men.
“Eat breakfast. Drink more coffee. Play video games. Whatever you want.” Kun shrugged, coming from Ten's bedroom. He stretched and yawned loudly. “Today is a free day. We can do whatever you want."
“Okay, sounds good. Can I shower first?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.
“Of course. Don't take too long. We're waiting.” Taeyong smirked.
“Whatever.” You replied. You slowly trudged upstairs to your bedroom. Once you were inside, you stripped off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor. You slid under the warm spray of water and scrubbed your hair vigorously. Soon, you stepped out of the shower, toweling off your hair and wrapping the towel around your body. Then you pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and an old, faded red t-shirt. Once you were ready, you padded downstairs to grab your purse and keys.
Once you returned to the living room, you found everyone waiting for you. They all sat around the living room, sipping on their morning coffees.
"Alright, let's go get breakfast." You declared happily.
"Good idea." Yuta agreed, getting up from the couch. "Let's not waste another minute here."
"We don't need another minute." Mark commented, looking around the room.
When you arrived at your favorite restaurant, everyone piled out of the car, stretching and yawning. The restaurant was fairly empty, save for the employees. So, when the owner came up to greet you all, you smiled.
"Morning! Glad to see my favorite group of hungover college kids." She beamed, her arms wide opened.
You stepped into her arms. "Morning mom. Can you feed us now?"
"Anything for my favorite daughter." Your mom kissed your cheek, ignoring your comment that you were her only child. Your mom looked at the rest of the group. “Now what can I get for you hungover kids?”
“Your egg sandwiches, auntie.” Ten muttered.
“Coffee.” Mark yawned. “Lots and lots of coffee.”
“Can I get toast, bacon, and fries, auntie?” Renjun asked.
"Oh, god, come on." Taeyong groaned, sitting down at a nearby table. "Just give me some coffee and bacon, I'll be fine. Please auntie."
After you placed your order, you settled down at the table, joining your friends.
"Why are we meeting here every morning?" Yuta yawned, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Because it's close to campus, you get free food and you know my mom loves you all." You shook your head, helping the staff pour everyone coffee or orange juice into their mugs and cups. You made your thanks, the staff smiling.
"One of the perks of being Y/N's friends," Kun laughed. "Free food from her mom's restaurant. Lucky us."
"True that." Ten nodded, finishing off his egg sandwich. "Man, I love her mom's sandwiches."
"She makes the best ones." You agreed, stealing a fry from Renjun's plate.
A few minutes later, the rest of the food was delivered.
"Can I have your bacon and eggs?" Ten asked, pointing at your plate.
You raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think you deserve to eat someone else's bacon?"
"Doesn't hurt to ask." He grinned, grabbing your plate. "But you can always share."
Everyone chuckled as you shoved a fry into Ten's mouth.
"So where did Johnny end up going last night?" You asked suddenly. “I really didn’t see him last night. I mean I saw him before I passed out.”
"He didn't stay long." Mark answered. "Around midnight, he left with Jieun."
"Ah." You frowned. "Makes sense. They never stay long whenever I'm around."
"They probably just wanted to spend time together." Kun explained. "Jieun and Johnny were really cute together. She followed him everywhere he went."
"Did you ever tell him that you liked him?" Yuta asked you suddenly.
"What?" You blinked. How did Yuta know about that?
"You did flirt with him a little." Renjun reminded you. "At least, that's what I saw."
"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. "It was barely any flirting."
"Come on Y/N," Mark shook his head. "Johnny was staring at you the whole night before Jieun came."
"It's the tatts, Mark." You replied. "He was asking me about them earlier."
"Seriously though." Yuta continued. "If you like him, why didn't you ever say anything?"
"I thought he'd never notice me." You sighed, knowing that there was no way to escape the converstation. "I'm not the type of girl that guys usually like."
"Really?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"It's the tatts, huh?" Taeyong muttered, looking at your tattooed arm. "I mean, I love a girl that has tatts."
"Guys will always find something to complain about." You nodded your head. “But thanks for that Taeyong.”
"Well," Renjun interrupted, chuckling slightly. "There's nothing wrong with your tattoos."
"Yeah." Haechan agreed. "They're pretty cool."
"I agree." Ten smiled. "And sexy as hell."
You blushed, ignoring everyone's laughter. But it wasn't long before you were in a conversation about your tattoos again. About how pretty you thought they were and about how unique each tattoo was. It felt good, having such amazing friends that were willing to talk about your ink. You knew it would probably never happen with other groups of guys you hung out with. Not because they didn't care, but because they were afraid to offend you. Which is why you weren't surprised when the subject turned to sex.
It was always sex with these guys.
Why were you friends with these sex-crazed guys?
"So..." Taeyong started, shooting a pointed glance at you. "Are there any guys here you want to bang?"
"Hear me out. I know he has a girl and I know someone's going to beat me up for saying it or even thinking of it," You decided to just tell the truth. You looked around biting your lip, making sure your mom didn’t hear you. "Johnny. He seems like a good fuck."
"Damn," Haechan raised his eyebrows. "Y/N and Johnny would be hot, to be honest."
"No shit." Renjun nodded. "They'd be the hottest couple on campus."
You rolled your eyes and laughed with the others. You and Johnny? If only that was possible.
He still has a girlfriend after all.
The days passed quickly. After hanging out with the group for breakfast, you usually went off on your own, doing homework or just spending time alone in your room. But one day, after lunch, you decided to join your friends again. This time you met up with Taeyong, Doyoung, Winwin, Xiaojun, and Jaemin.
You sat at the table, eating as everyone told you stories about who they hooked up with last night. You rolled your eyes when Taeyong started telling you about his drunken hookup with a girl named Minah.
"Drunk sex?" You scoffed, giving him a look. "Really?"
"Don't act like you haven't done that." Taeyong narrowed his eyes. "With as many times as you had drunken sex with Doyoung."
"Please don't bring that up. Every time you guys mention it, I feel bad." You groaned as Doyoung sputtered on his food. You reached out and patted his back. “But admit it Doyoung, the sex was good.”
"We don't mention it!" Taeyong responded to you, rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s reaction. "It's not our fault you're always horny!"
"Shut up. Just shut up." You threw your napkin at him, the others laughing.
You were surprised when the next person you noticed looking at you wasn't Xiaojun or Doyoung or Jaemin or even Winwin. Instead, it was your very handsome friend, Johnny. You didn't even know he would be here. He was out with others that were in his classes.
His dark brown eyes met yours across the room. There was something about the way he stared at you that made you blush. Your cheeks were hot. Even your ears felt hot. Why was this guy looking at you so intensely? And so much?
“Is there a reason why you’re staring at Johnny so much?” Xiaojun asked, leaning back in his chair.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Um…”
"She wants to fuck him." Jaemin muttered. "Renjun told me the other day."
"But then again, what girl doesn't want to fuck, Johnny?" You asked, shrugging your shoulders. "Jieun is one lucky bitch."
You tried not to look at him anymore. Because whenever you looked at him, your stomach would flip. He was just too beautiful. Too sexy. Too perfect. It didn't help that he was already famous for dating the popular girl. Not that you weren't popular.
No wonder every single girl kept trying to hit on him. You included. You've been fighting the urge to kiss him since you met him at that event you hosted with Mark for the foreign exchange students. But he still had a girlfriend. A serious girlfriend.
Yet, here you were, constantly looking at Johnny like he was a piece of candy that you desperately wanted. Or maybe like you were salivating at the sight of him. Yes, that sounded more appropriate.
Like you wanted to eat him alive.
You wanted to suck on his lips. Suck on his tongue. Slap his hard cock against your naked pussy.
God, you wish you could touch him. Touch his face. His arms. His chest. Hell, just touch his skin. To see if it was as soft as it looked.
Or if it was rough.
Maybe Johnny likes rougher sex than the girls he normally slept with. What do you know about him, huh? Nothing. And yet, you keep imagining yourself with him. Imagining how it would feel to lay beneath him, letting him fuck you from behind. Thinking about how incredible it would feel to take his load all over your face. Or maybe deep inside you. The possibilities were endless. You just couldn't seem to stop thinking about him.
Your friends didn't know about the way you fantasized about him.
At least, they hadn't said anything. Yet.
"Ah, fuck." You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Doyoung gave you a concerned look. “You okay, Y/N?”
You nodded in reply.
You were seriously losing control. That was a first. For as long as you could remember, you had been able to hold yourself back from acting on your urges. The fact that you had no self-control around him should've made you realize you shouldn't be with him. It should make you run away. But instead, your heart yearned to feel his body pressed against yours.
Why? You wondered. Why did you keep wanting him?
You took another bite of your salad, listening to your friends talking amongst themselves. And once again, Johnny’s name was brought up.
“Yeah, I heard he spent most of the weekend with Jieun.” Xiaojun said casually.
You sighed softly, hoping that he wouldn’t ask any questions about it.
The next week was rather uneventful. Since it was your last year of college, you have stayed late almost every night studying or doing homework. Sometimes, if your apartment was occupied, you would go to Hendery’s, Jeno’s or Yangyang’s rooms and study there since they often partied, playing sports or going to the gym. So you were surprised when Wednesday afternoon found you walking back to your apartment alone.
As you approached your building, you noticed Johnny standing near the front doors. Of course he was there. No doubt he had been waiting for you.
His posture screamed 'alpha male'. All six feet one inch of him stood rigidly, like he was prepared to strike at any moment. And the muscles in his arms and chest were clearly defined under his tight black shirt. Damn. You wanted to get closer to him, to see if those bulging biceps were real.
You swallowed nervously. How does a girl like you even get a chance to meet the guy that every other girl wants? What makes you different from all the rest? You were one of his best friends that's for sure.
You watched as he began talking to someone. A girl. And she seemed to respond well to his attention. She smiled as he leaned down to speak to her. She giggled. She touched his arm lightly. She probably thinks she's special. Probably thinks that he's interested in her. As if.
But he looks happy. Smiling. Even talking to her. Ah, this must be Jieun, the girlfriend. She was actually really cute. Much prettier than you expected her to be. Short hair cut in a layered style. Brown eyes. And a small nose.
The way his gaze lingered on her for a few moments longer than necessary, she seemed to be flattered. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly. Her head resting on his shoulder as she gazed at him with longing. It was then that you realized that he was completely oblivious to your presence.
What was wrong with you? Why are you watching them like that? Why can't you turn away? God damn it! Stop acting like some sort of pervert.
You cleared your throat. Maybe he won't notice you if you ignore him. It worked the last time. Didn't it?
But to your dismay, he did.
"Hi Y/N!" He said cheerfully, looking up and meeting your gaze. "I've been waiting for you."
Oh god.
"Hey Johnny," You forced yourself to say. Your voice came out low and shaky. You struggled to find your words. Suddenly, you felt like an awkward teenager again. Like your face was on fire.
Johnny nodded towards Jieun, causing her to frown slightly. Then he shot you a mischievous smile. "Let's go up."
It took everything you had to push past him and enter your building. Thankfully, Jieun left before you reached your apartment door. You were grateful. You didn't need her prying questions right now.
Inside your home, you stood in the living room, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. Ten wasn’t home yet, so you felt a bit nervous that you were left alone with Johnny. This had never before. Why all of a sudden were you feeling nervous in front of your best friend?
"Do you want a drink?" You offered nervously. "A soda or water? Wine?"
"A glass of red wine sounds nice." He replied without hesitation.
Relief flooded you as you hurried to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Thankfully, you had stocked the fridge earlier that day.
When you returned to the living room, Johnny was sitting on the couch, sipping his wine and watching TV.
He's so gorgeous. Why does he have to be so goddamn beautiful?
"So..." You started awkwardly. "How have you been?"
"Same old, same old." He shrugged. "What about you?"
You frowned. "Nothing new. Apart from hanging with the guys.”
He glanced at you quickly. Something passed between the two of you. Something strange. Something exciting. You squirmed in your seat, trying to focus on anything else besides the way his eyes smoldered at you. You felt like your whole world was going crazy. Everything around you became fuzzy. The way his voice sounded. The way his muscles flexed underneath his clothes. The way he gazed at you. Oh god.
Fuck.
Stop it. You chided yourself. This isn’t happening. Don’t give in to him. This is bad. Really bad.
“I’m glad we finally got to hang out tonight.” He said after a few moments of silence.
“Me too.” You replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean, I guess I haven’t seen you since you’ve been busy with Jieun.”
Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “True.”
"You never talked about her." You pointed out quietly.
He grimaced. "We don't really talk about her that often."
"Do you like her?"
"Who?"
You exhaled sharply. "Jieun. Do you like her?"
Johnny furrowed his brows. "Why do you ask?"
You hesitated, wishing you hadn't brought it up. "Well...you look pretty happy when you're with her."
He smiled briefly. "It's complicated."
"Are you two together?" You questioned. "Is that why you always sit with her during class?"
"Well, we're definitely close." He said simply.
And then, he was silent.
“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” You blurted out. “Shouldn’t you spend time with her instead of me?”
He cocked his head to the side. “No, we’re not together.”
“Really?” You felt relieved. Thank god.
Johnny laughed. “Of course. We aren’t dating. We’ve slept together a few times but we’re not dating.”
You breathed a sigh of relief. Good. At least he was being honest. You tried not to think about what kind of relationship they had. What kind of relationship they had had. But you couldn’t help but notice how they interacted with each other. The way they looked at each other. How they held hands.
“Was my best friend jealous?” Johnny peered at your face, a smile on his lips. “Because I could swear that you were staring at us.”
“I was not!” You denied. “There was nothing to stare at.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t try and deny it.”
“No, I’m telling the truth. There was nothing to stare at.” You insisted.
“Sure there was.” He grinned, taking another sip of his wine.
“Trust me. There was nothing.” You responded forcefully. “There was no reason for me to watch you and Jieun together. You weren’t kissing or anything.”
“Really?” His expression grew serious. “What if I asked you to kiss me right now? Would you?”
“Fuck, Suh.” You burst out. “That’s impossible. You know that, right?”
“But would you want to?” He persisted. “Would you kiss me right now if I asked you?”
“I…” You stopped.
How the hell was you supposed to answer that question?
This conversation was turning into something you never expected it to be. Was it really just a friendly request or something more?
And what would your friends say if they saw you two making out in the middle of the living room? If they saw you grinding against him on the couch?
“God dammit.” You groaned, slumping back onto the couch. “Johnny, what the fuck are you doing to me?”
“Hmmm?” He peered at you curiously.
“Why does this have to happen?” You groaned, trying hard not to panic. “What are you trying to do to me?”
He gave you a playful smile. “I'm not doing anything to you.”
Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Then why am I feeling this way?”
“Because you want me.” He replied simply. “Because you’re attracted to me. Because you can’t resist me. Because you feel something when I look at you.”
His confession sent shockwaves through your body. You sat motionless on the couch. Unable to comprehend what he just told you. Unable to believe him.
“Are you attracted to me too?” You whispered. “Is that why you keep looking at me?”
Johnny stared at you silently for several seconds. Then he grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” He confirmed.
You gaped at him.
“Really?” You repeated hesitantly.
“I'm not lying to you.” He assured you. “I want you. I want you so badly that I can barely breathe sometimes. But if I tell you that, will you run away? Will you break our friendship because of this?”
“No.” You answered instantly. “No. I’d never do that. I wouldn’t even be able to think straight. Not to mention the fact that the guys would kill me.”
He chuckled. “Why’s that?”
“They know that I have a thing for you.” You admitted. “They see the way I look at you. They tease me about it all the time. I guess it’s easier for them to accept it if they knew that I’m attracted to someone who likes me back. Someone who I can be myself around. That’s why they won’t mind if we date. As long as I’m with someone who accepts me.”
He grinned. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“So…what should we do?” You asked tentatively.
He raised his eyebrows. “About what?”
“Um…this.” You gestured towards yourself. “This attraction between us. It seems like we both want it. So…is it possible that maybe we could…I don’t know…do something about it? Maybe meet up somewhere private? Or at least have sex. In my bed? On your couch?”
Johnny’s eyes lit up. “You want to have sex with me?”
“Fuck, Johnny.” You ran your hand through your hair, noticing his eyes on your tatted arm. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” He murmured huskily. “Like I'm going to take you upstairs and rip your clothes off? Like I'm going to shove my cock inside you and fuck you until you scream?”
You moaned. Fuck yes. That's exactly what you want.
“Don’t you want to?” He pressed. “Don’t you want me to make love to you? To touch every inch of your skin? To lick your nipples and suck on your breasts?”
You bit your lip.
“Fuck. Please stop talking. Just fucking fuck me already.” You moaned, unable to contain your arousal any longer.
He smirked. “All right. All right. But just to warn you. I plan on treating you like the goddess that you are. Every part of your body is going to feel good to me. I’ll make sure you come over and over again.”
A fire ignited within you. This is exactly what you needed. Exactly what you wanted. The idea of getting fucked by him sent a thrill throughout your body. You loved hearing him say those words to you. Words that only a man like him could utter. And knowing that you wanted to have sex with him didn’t hurt either. It made you feel incredibly desirable.
“Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.” Johnny said softly.
“Do whatever you want.” You replied breathlessly. “Just please. Make me cum.”
He chuckled. “If that’s what you want.”
You nodded eagerly. A devilish grin formed on his lips.
He stood up from the couch. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you up from the sofa. With one swift move, he tossed you over his shoulder.
He strode quickly towards the staircase. You shrieked, clutching at his shirt tightly. You kicked your legs wildly, desperately trying to escape from his grip.
Johnny was much stronger than you realized. Within seconds, he had thrown you down onto your bed. With one quick movement, he jumped on top of you. Your heart thundered against your chest.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. Kissing you fiercely.
Your body responded instinctively. Your pussy throbbed, begging for attention. Your nipples hardened beneath your shirt, yearning for a hard squeeze.
As his tongue probed into your mouth, his hands slid underneath your shirt. Pushing it up and off your shoulders.
His warm fingers trailed over your skin. Sending chills throughout your entire body. His lips trailed down your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh. Every single movement was driving you wild.
Every stroke of his tongue and caress of his fingertips set you on fire. You were soaking wet, longing for him to take you. For him to fill you with his cock. To give you the pleasure you deserve.
The moment his fingers brushed against your nipple, you let out a moan.
You arched your back, thrusting your breast towards him.
He chuckled. “God, Y/N. Are you trying to kill me?”
He grasped your bra, tearing it apart with ease. Your nipples sprang free. He rubbed his thumb over them, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.
“Oooohhhh, Johnny.” You moaned.
He grinned wickedly. “Does that feel good, baby? Do you like it when I play with your tits? When I suck on your nipples?”
“Yessss.” You gasped. “More. More. Fuck.”
“Oh god.” He groaned, biting down gently on your nipple.
He continued to flick his tongue across your other nipple, flicking harder each time. Your cries became louder. You felt like you were going to explode. It took everything in you not to reach down and unzip his pants.
Instead, you threw your head back and wrapped your arms around his neck. Tugging at his hair as he teased your nipples. Moaning loudly whenever he touched your skin.
Johnny smiled. He licked his lips hungrily, giving your breasts one last slow suck before letting go.
Leaving you panting for air.
“I've got to be honest with you, baby.” He breathed, pushing himself up onto his knees. “You taste amazing. Better than anything I've ever tasted before. And there's nothing else I'd rather do right now than to spend hours tasting every inch of your gorgeous body. Touching you. Kissing you. Licking you. And slowly entering you. Until I fill you with my cum.”
“Mmmmm. Fuck yes.” You whimpered, your voice sounding like an echo in the empty bedroom.
“Now where were we?” He asked slyly. “Ahh yes, your tits. Did you want me to suck on them some more? Maybe eat you out while I played with your tits?”
“Yes.” You breathed. “Please. Oh god, yes. Please.”
He chuckled. “Anything for you, baby. Anything.”
Slowly standing up, he began to strip off his shirt. Each piece of clothing was removed with great care. His tattoos were displayed prominently. They looked beautiful as always. The sight of them caused you to sigh in appreciation.
Once his shirt was completely gone, he leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on your stomach.
“That's better.” He whispered. “Now you're ready for me.”
His hands sliding your pants off. His lips kissing the insides of your thighs. Caressing your inner thigh with every kiss. Leaving you quivering with desire.
“Fuck!” You cried out. “Stop teasing me. Please. Just fuck me. Now!”
“Shhh.” He whispered. “Not yet. Not yet. There's still so much left to do first. Don't worry. You'll get what you need soon enough.”
Your hands dug into his hair, pulling his face closer to your pussy. You moaned loudly. The sounds of your pleasuring filling the room. His hot breath tickling your inner thighs. Your panties drenched with your juices.
Johnny looked up at you, his dark eyes darkened with lust.
“Look at me. Look how beautiful you are.” He said huskily. “Watch me taste you. Watch as I rub my tongue over your clit. See how good it feels. Know that I'm doing it to you. That I want to eat you out so badly.”
He gripped your hips, tugging you upwards. Opening his mouth wide. Licking your entire pussy, slowly spreading your juices.
Lapping at you slowly, teasingly. Going lower and lower until his tongue found your swollen clit. Pressing hard against it, rubbing his tongue in circles.
“Fuuuck.” You cried out. “Johnny! Johnny!”
“Such dirty talk, baby.” He said with a laugh. “Let me hear it. Let me hear you beg for me to make you cum. I want to hear you screaming for me.”
You clawed at his back, trying to pull his face deeper into your pussy. Screaming obscenities. Making animalistic sounds. Biting down on your pillow as he gave you all the pleasure you deserved.
Finally, his tongue plunged deep inside your pussy. Flicking over your clit in rapid succession. Sucking on it and flicking it. Pulling away occasionally to tease you. Tasting your juices. Giving you an extra burst of pleasure every time.
His pace increased rapidly. Pulling away for brief moments only to return immediately. Giving you even more pleasure than you expected. Soon you were trembling, nearing the point of no return.
It took everything you had not to lose control. Your entire body was consumed by ecstasy. Your pussy contracting rhythmically around his mouth. Pumping his tongue inside you, trying to keep yourself from coming. From exploding with orgasmic bliss.
But you couldn't hold it anymore. You began to cry out. Your body shuddered.
Sensing your impending climax, Johnny stopped sucking on your clit. He withdrew his tongue, but kept his lips firmly pressed against it. Keeping your orgasm contained.
His hands remained firmly on your hips. Tugging at your hips, forcing your body further upwards. You cried out as you tried to pull his face back into your pussy. Trying to force yourself to cum.
You came with a loud scream, your entire body tensing. Johnny followed your lead, groaning loudly as you pushed your pussy back into his face. Your thighs squeezing tight around his head, pulling him tighter against your clit. Your entire body trembling violently. Spasms racking your body. Bringing forth the most intense sensation you had ever experienced.
Suddenly, he stopped. Letting go of your hips. Sliding off your sweaty body. Standing up from the bed. Looking down at you.
“Baby, I know you came, but I'm not done yet.” He said quietly.
Looking down at your spread thighs, he smirked. He began to undo his pants.
You panted, waiting impatiently for him to reveal his erection. You knew what was coming next. You knew this would be the moment of truth. Would he be able to satisfy you? Would he actually be able to give you the satisfaction you were craving?
With one swift motion, his erect cock sprung free. Your eyes widened, almost as if you were surprised to see it. You hadn't been expecting it to be that big.
And you weren't wrong. His cock was absolutely enormous. Longer than any penis you had ever seen. Bulging with potential. You wondered if he could possibly fit inside you.
If he would hurt you.
But you know he wouldn't.
You stared at his cock hungrily, staring at it in disbelief. In awe. You reached out tentatively, touching it lightly. Fingers shaking slightly. Shaking as they traced their way along its length.
You felt the weight of it in your hand. Thicker than any cock you had ever felt. Fuller than any dick you had ever seen.
Before you could fully appreciate his massive erection, he grabbed hold of your wrist. Moving your hand to the tip of his cock.
“Just think about it.” He said quietly. “Imagine how amazing it will feel. Just imagine the sensations running through your body. Imagine how incredible it will feel to have this inside of you. How much more powerful it will be than any dick you've ever had before.”
Thinking about how large his dick would feel stretching your pussy open. Knowing that once he penetrated you, he would never leave. He would be inside you forever. Bringing you so much pleasure.
Giving you such pleasure. Satisfying you so deeply. Giving you what you needed. Allowing you to finally release all your pent up sexual tension. Giving you the ultimate sexual experience.
Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, you placed your lips against the head of his cock. Your tongue darting out. Drawing the warm liquid from his shaft. Overwhelmingly delicious.
Moving down, your lips parted. Your tongue sliding out of your mouth. Stretching out towards his cock. Swirling around it like a tiny tornado. Slickly coating his member with saliva. Getting him nice and wet. Allowing you to slide it further inside your mouth. Gently sucking on it, making sure to take it all in.
“Fuck.” He growled. “Oh fuck. You are so fucking sexy. So beautiful.”
Smiling brightly, you returned his compliment. Leaning forward, your tongue moved further into his crotch. Taking him even deeper inside your mouth. Tongue twirling around his thick base. Up and down the full length of his shaft. Playing with his balls. Feeling the resistance of his perineum.
Slowly moving back up to his tip. Taking him deeper inside your mouth again. Working your way down, taking him all the way to the bottom. Running your tongue along the underside of his shaft. As you slid back up to the tip, you sucked on it gently.
He groaned loudly, reaching out to grab hold of your head. Pushing you downwards so he could sink even deeper into your throat. Your nose pressed against his pubes, inhaling the musky scent. Sucking on his cock like it was a popsicle. Gagging a little bit. His thick length hitting the back of your throat with each movement.
Panting heavily, he held your head firmly in place. Gasping for air as he let out another moan. His dick pulsating wildly inside your mouth. Fluid seeping out of the end of his cock. Massaging your throat. Causing it to tingle pleasantly.
As he released his grip, you released his cock from your mouth. Pausing for a moment to catch your breath. Smiling happily at him. Proud of yourself for being able to handle his huge cock.
He smiled back at you. Reaching down, his fingers wrapping around your chin. Pulling you close to him. He kissed you passionately. Wrapping his arms around you. Holding you tightly. He tasted wonderful. His scent intoxicating. His warmth reassuring.
Gripping your ass tightly, he pulled you onto his lap. Sitting you down onto his hard cock. Watching as it filled your pussy. Slowly slipping inside of you.
Stopping halfway inside you, he gently lifted you up. Removing his erection from your pussy. Grinning as he laid you down on the bed. Positioning himself between your legs. His hard cock positioned at your entrance.
Pulling back slightly, he looked down at you. Seeing the desire in your eyes. Waiting for him to thrust his thick cock inside of you.
Taking a deep breath, he gripped your waist tightly. Slowly pushing forward. Delving inside of you. Feeling you wrap your legs around him. Tightening them around his body. Moaning loudly as he filled you completely.
Releasing his grip on your waist, he grabbed hold of your wrists. Placing them above your head. Hanging limply as he slowly fucked you. Gently pumping his cock into you.
Grinding your hips against him. Panting as you struggled to breathe properly. Wanting desperately to touch his cock, to stroke it. To watch it twitch in your hand. But he didn't allow you to do anything. He continued to thrust into you. Stroking his dick as fast as he could.
“Please.” You begged. “I need you to come inside of me. Please.”
Chuckling, he responded. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not just yet.”
His words spurred you on. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel his load splatter inside of you. Needing to feel his seed filling your pussy. Pouring into your body. And you would love every minute of it. Every single second.
He suddenly pulled out of you. Rolling over onto his back. “Climb on top of me. Put your tits in my face. I want to suck on them while you ride me.”
Lifting your ass, you quickly straddled his naked body. Hooking your fingers behind his neck. Settling yourself down onto his hard cock. You moaned loudly as you impaled yourself on him. Your hips bucking back and forth.
Johnny gripped your breasts, tugging on your nipples as you rode him. Squeezing your nipples hard. Twisting them as you slammed your pussy down on his dick. Slowly increasing the speed. Riding him faster and harder until he felt the familiar pressure building up inside of him.
“Hang on baby. Hang on. I'm going to come. Oh god.”
Moaning loudly, you brought yourself closer to climax. Johnny's dick pounding your walls relentlessly. Your whole body shuddering uncontrollably.
Feeling his climax building, Johnny wrapped his arms around you. Holding you tightly. Ensuring that you remain steady. Bringing you closer to release. Kneading your breasts, milking them roughly. Pleasuring them until you were completely overcome by pleasure.
Your orgasm ripping through your body. Crashing down upon you with relentless force. Sweeping you away into an ocean of pure bliss.
He moaned loudly, holding you tight. Panting heavily as he came inside of you. Your pussy gripping him tightly. Keep his semen within you. Silencing his lustful thoughts. Pushing them away, allowing him to rest peacefully.
Holding you closely, he watched as your climax slowly faded away. You lay on his chest, your breathing still erratic.
“So good.” You breathed softly.
“So fucking good.” He agreed. “That was the best. The absolute best."
"The best sex I've had in a long time." You let out a small laugh. You heard the front door of your apartment opening and closing, hearing voices talking about Johnny's coat and shoes. Someone, sounded like Taeyong, laughing at how you and Johnny finally fucked.
"I can hear you guys!" You yelled.
Johnny chuckled. "So I guess the guys are right outside, and they know exactly what happened."
Groaning, you buried your face into Johnny's shoulder. "I can hear Renjun and Haechan asking me all sorts of questions."
Smirking, Johnny spoke. "We can just tell them that the hot tattooed people are finally a couple."
"A couple?" You asked, lifting your head up. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Well, I originally came to see you tonight because I was on a mission." He laughed. "Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?"
Laughing loudly, you hugged him tightly. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Johnny."
Letting out a sigh of relief, he relaxed against you. "Thank god."
He mumbled, resting his head against yours. Breathing in your lovely scent, he listened to the sound of your heart beating. "This is the first time I've been with someone I really care about. So I don't want to mess it up. It has to work."
Snuggling against him, you smiled. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out together."
"Can I tell you something?"
"Yes." You answered, curious to hear what he was going to say.
"I love you." He told you. "And you need to know that."
"I love you too." You mumbled, running your fingers through his messy hair. "Forever."
He closed his eyes, biting his lower lip. A mischievous smirk appeared on his lips. He looked down at your tattooed sleeve, running his finger over a sunflower one. "I really love this design. What does it mean?"
You chuckled. "Sunflowers remind me of you."
Johnny froze, looking down at your tattoo.
You were shocked to see tears forming in his eyes. But you didn't have time to worry about it because he immediately placed a tender kiss on your lips.
Your heart fluttered wildly at his actions. Never had you felt so alive.
So happy.
So loved.
You hugged him tightly.
"Remember when you used to tease me about getting tattoos?" He asked you, giving you a sheepish smile. He caressed your cheek. "Remember when I told you I wouldn't get another one unless you joined me?"
"Yup." You nodded. "What happened to getting one with me?"
"I eventually got it with Taeyong and Yuta since I wasn't sure whether you wanted one with me or not." Johnny explained. "I'm still waiting to get one with you."
"What if I gave you the tattoo?" You offered, tracing his shoulder tattoo. "One of my designs so it's like you're taking me with you anywhere you go."
"I would love to be inked by you." Johnny whispered, turning his gaze towards you. "Anywhere you want."
Your breath hitched. This is exactly what you wanted.
You could only imagine the gorgeous tattoos you would create together. They would be so incredibly beautiful. A masterpiece. You would cherish them forever.
It would also make you feel special. Knowing that no matter where you went, Johnny would always carry part of you with him. Always be thinking of you. Remembering you. Cherishing your creations.
You didn't know how you could express how grateful you were for his words. Or for him choosing you. Loving you. Being with you.
All you knew was that you were going to treasure these feelings for as long as possible.
SYNOPSIS: Lee Jeno is in desperate need of release. The problem is he’s not exactly stuck on the whole groupie concept, that’s where you come in. His bartender friend who’s a struggling writer that’s in need of some real inspiration. The suggestion is simple, friends with benefits. The only catch is, don’t fall in love, which should be easy considering the two of you have no intention of ever falling in love anyway.
WORD COUNT: 28k
WARNINGS: humor, fluff, angst (if you squint), smut (MDNI), public sex (does in a car count), unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), biting, fingering, oral (f!recieving), light sub/dom play, cum eating, mutual masterbation, these two are very dense, they’re also extremely silly
BEFORE YOU READ: reading the first story isn’t necessary but there are many appearances and references to things in the first one so to better understand read Francis Forever!
NOTES: I’m sooo sorry about the delay for this one but it’s here and instead of posting on friday i decided why not now! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing!!
explore the 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 here!
spotify playlist that helped inspire me while writing can be found here
Part One: Early Spring
Sugar, we’re going down
☆ 📚 ☆
You stood in the center of the familiar crowded office, your lip in between your teeth as a sort of calming method. It was complete silence safe for the ticking of the clock that crescendoed with every second, building up your anticipation.
It was half past three which meant that if you were lucky, you’d have time to arrive home for a quick celebration with your cat, Meowy, before getting ready for your shift later tonight. You were confident this time, there were only so many mistakes you could’ve made after about ten different overviews of the same work.
The cough along with the sound of glasses hitting the table was enough for you to concede that the read through was complete. You were about to speak when the cherry haired woman spoke.
“No.”
Your feet would’ve collapsed into themselves if it wasn’t for the chair in front of you that your hands grasped at for dear life. You were sure she could hear the squeak of your last bit of humanity slipping away.
“I must end it all,” your head shakes, refusing to meet the eyes of your friend, Shuhua.
She sighs, the scene in front of her reminiscent of the past few times you had asked her to read over your work. “Don’t be dramatic, get up.”
You stood up straight again, her soft nod a quiet way of telling you to take a seat. Ever since you were young you’d wanted to become a writer, and luckily enough working as a Bartender for one of the city's most frequented exclusive bars had its perks. You met Shuhua around the first month of working there, having built a friendship ever since she ordered a dirty martini. She was the owner of one of the biggest Publishing companies, and was very willing to help accomplish your dream.
Only that took way more effort than you ever thought possible. Shuhua was very confident in your work, the only problem was that she thought you weren’t being authentic enough. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to, it’s just that sometimes work dragged on and took most of your energy for the day, and by the time you met the deadline, your work came out rushed in areas.
“Y/N,” Shuhua starts, your voice ringing out and cutting her off before she could continue.
“It’s the Amusement Park scene right? I was half asleep when I wrote it that morning and I should’ve read over it again before printing it out.” You spit out, words tangled together because unfortunately you were always one to grow chatty when nervous.
“That’s not the problem,” Shuhua answers flatly. Your brows furrow. “Chapter thirty two.”
You flushed red, of course you knew what part that was. Not exactly because of it being your own writing, you could forget your own name if it weren’t for your nametag, but because it was the scene you dreaded most when you went over the draft.
Smut scene, not exactly your forte.
“Y/N, I mean this with all uttermost respect, are you even trying?” She flips open the book onto the page in question. “He kisses me. Very nicely.” She reads the words you wrote aloud and you could feel yourself sinking into the seat with every next sentence.
“I mean seriously,” She tosses the book down once again, “Is there a reason your skills become equivalent to that of a six year old when you write a smut scene?”
“I’d be concerned if a six year old was writing that.”
“You know what I mean,” She sighs, “Look Y/N I mean this as a friend, but even more as a publisher, I know you can do better than this. The rest of the novel is proof of that.”
You smile at the compliment. That means she at least liked the majority of the story.
“Wipe that smile off of your face,” You frown again. “Tell me, what’s the problem? You can’t exactly have a smut book without any of the smut.”
It wasn’t that you weren’t trying to write smut, it had been the best way to navigate the built up emotions from both characters who seemingly hated each other before that, it was necessary. You hadn’t taken into account just how lacking you were in that department until you sat at four am, your computer brightness at full.
“The problem might be me,” You confess. “It’s not like I have much experience to base anything off of.”
Shuhua sighs, “No, that’s not your fault, some men don’t exactly offer the best services when it comes to getting off.” She meant that. It had been the topic of the first conversation you both shared after about three dirty martinis.
“Guess it doesn’t help that the closest I've been to touching a man’s body in a year is brushing hands with the DreamCafe cashier the other day.”
Shuhua’s gaze is pitiful, “Y/N, are you serious?” You nod. “God this is going to end up published five years from now if we keep up this pace.”
You purse your lips, not exactly knowing how to respond. Your list of experiences was about the size of a quick shopping list, and it wasn’t like you were against the idea of sex either, you just were a bit too busy to just go around looking for the first attractive man in your area. Most of the guys around were ugly too, and if they weren’t then they were clients at your workplace, which meant it was a no-go.
The last thing you needed was to bump into a one night stand asking for a shot of whiskey. Besides you’d been hit on enough at your job to know that most men were way too easy, and something about that just grossed you out. Your friend's eyes brighten, an idea taking place in her mind that forms into a smirk on her face.
“What?” You ask, looking around the room as if it wasn’t just the two of you in there.
“I say this with all of my heart,” she raises a brow, “if you want a good story, you have got to get laid.”
You chuckle nervously, standing up and wiping off your pants. “No thank you!”
“Nope Y/N I’m serious,” She raises her voice slightly, she always did this with other clients but when it was directed to you it was a bit scary. “Consider it. It might get your creative juices flowing.”
“I don’t really want to think about any juices right now.”
Shuhua rolls her eyes, picking up your paper and reaching forward to pass it to you. “You have amazing skill Y/N, I am not at all doubtful of that, but I think that this could help you sort things out better. If you don’t want to of course you don’t have to, but if that’s the case then I’d consider publishing this without the smut scenes.”
You were barely out of the door when you began contemplating her suggestion. The smut scene was necessary. There was zero way that you were going to publish the book without it, it would feel like you gave up if you did.
You groaned loudly, the stares from the workers occupying the same elevator going unfazed with how deep in thought you were. Maybe Shuhua was right? Maybe hooking up with someone would make things easier for you as a writer. You always get the best inspiration when you force yourself to explore new things.
The only issue now was who would be your pick? The last thing you needed was to join a dating app and end up meeting a serial killer, you saw that in a movie once. Time felt like a ticking bomb now. If you wanted this book done by the end of the year, you had to do something about your problem, and you had to do it immediately.
☆ 🎸☆
The subtle bed squeaks and giggles were something Jeno usually had zero problem sleeping through, after all for a good few years he was the main person causing those noises. Countless hookups and one night stands he brought back to the shared apartment that he thought didn’t matter much anyway because the other guys were just as loud as he was, except for Jisung and Mark, and because it’s not like any of the girls they saw were here to stay.
He was regretful now as he laid in bed, his pillow squeezed tight around his ears to try and tune out the rest of the world from outside his bedroom door. Now the problem was simple, he was growing a bit more frustrated the past weeks. The rise of Oblivion was still subtle, but he wasn’t a stranger to the city anymore.
And most would assume that was the best part of their growing fame but really it was the opposite. Jeno never really got the whole Groupie thing, sure he tried it a few times but really revisiting the same face every night wasn’t his style. Usually because it ended up causing assumptions to be made. Like your balls deep in a girl four times out of a week and suddenly she thinks that means that she can stay over and make you dinner, or call you baby and make arrangements to introduce you to her friends.
Jeno shuddered, the memory of Lia making him cringe. He had been in a dry spell ever since. It wasn’t so bad at first, Jeno was an introvert by nature so unless he was tagging along with Donghyuck and Jaemin at their club escapes he was pretty content staying home and hoping on league. But lately he felt like he was really going to go insane, it didn’t help that every other night there were enough sounds he was shocked there hadn’t been any noise complaints.
Jaemin had suggested he just cave in, let the groupies run their course explaining that not all of them really searched for something more. Jeno declined. Jaemin wasn’t much of a convincing person when he had a stalker problem not even three months ago.
But now as he hopes that the pillow on his face can cut off enough of the oxygen in his body to have him pass out for at least a couple of hours so he wouldn’t have to hear the monstrosities happening outside, he thinks maybe it would’ve been better if he did have a hookup he could meet up with right about now just to save his eardrums.
He decided for the next best option. Going on a walk and making his grand escape hopefully before the funny business got any louder. He shoved off the pillow, pulling up his phone to check the time. Right on schedule.
Jeno tried to open and close the door quietly enough to make his presence unknown, but unfortunately the great squeak from the hinges had betrayed him. Causing both his friend, Jisung, and Jisung’s girlfriend to shoot up from where they sat very comfortably on one another on the couch, in a position that made Jeno wish his vision was worse than it already was.
“I- Jeno! When did you get here?” Jisung stuttered, his cheeks growing red by the second.
“Never left,” Jeno shrugged, “sup Darling.”
The girl only smiled tightly, refusing to meet his eyes after he’d caught the two in a compromising position. Jisung scowled, not a fan of how popular the nickname had become within the group of guys since he’s the one that created it in the first place. There was no use in arguing against it now though, not when their fans had already began to implement the nickname themselves.
“Y’know if you’re going to fuck it would probably be better not to on the couch, it’s kind of a general rule.” One that Jeno could attest to never breaking.
“We weren’t going to–“ Jisung’s brows furrowed in annoyance? It was always so easy to tease the guy. He took a breath instead, ignoring the obvious bait. “It’s four pm, you do understand that right?”
“Yep,” Jeno starts, “Late night.”
Usually Late Night was code for a more rated R style of living. Now poor loser Jeno used the term for what were nights of binge watching Formula One Race highlights and an occasional jackoff session when he really couldn’t sleep. What? It was scientifically proven that release made for better sleep quality.
Darling chose to finally speak then, “Tomorrow you should post a picture or something, fans are wondering what their favorite drummer has been up to.”
He cringed, not too sure just how much fans would be interested in his new super boring lifestyle. “Yeah sure, i’ll get to that.” He could probably just take some pictures today while he’s out running to post for later. “Everyone else out?”
Jisung nods, his attention on the TV as he scrolls through what shows and movies were suggested. “I think Mark went to go help his mom back home today and Jaemin tagged along.”
“He’s not trying to get into Mark’s noonas pants anymore right?”
In Jeno’s humble opinion as a twenty five year old, engagement at twenty six seemed pretty soon but to each their own. No seriously, because his parents themselves were pretty adamant on him finding a potential girlfriend and or wife soon.
He shakes off the thought, “Hyuck?”
“Who knows, the guy has been way too secretive lately for someone who loves to be in everyone else’s business.”
“You’re still mad he tried joining us on our first date?” Darling reached forward tugging on Jisung’s cheek, a smile on full display.
Jisung rolled his eyes, “Tried is an understatement, he literally sat at the table right next to us.”
Darling only cooed at him, the two becoming lost in their own little world of smiles and extreme public display of affection. Jeno held back a groan of annoyance, instead choosing peace. Since it was late that at least meant that he had time to stop by the bar, he was pretty sure you were scheduled to work today also so why not make things better by venting all of his problems with a couple of drinks in between.
“I’m going out,” He announced to nobody apparently since neither one of them spared him short of a glance.
Apparently tonight was an exception to an empty club, what with being a Thursday. He’d made an entrance and beelined directly to the bar, which was a bit busier than he usually found it.
You were busy serving up someone’s drink to notice him, a man who stared at you a bit longer than some may deem normal. It wasn’t long until you slid over a glass to the man, who took it with a small glint in his eye and offered up a piece of paper before whispering to you and walking away.
“What’s that about?” Jeno asked curiously, though he was sure he knew exactly what it was about.
You barely flinched, having already noticed his presence before he spoke. “Number,” You groaned before throwing it into the trash, “Why are all of these rich folks so greedy. I work for tips not for numbers.”
Jeno laughs, “Oh I'm sure he wanted to give you a tip alright.”
You deadpanned, already concocting his drink of choice, “You’re here early.”
“Couldn’t exactly get anything else done,” He smiled sweetly in thanks as you slid over the glass.
You giggled, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Donghyuck?”
“Worse, Jisung.”
That got your attention, the shock in your face masked by your hand coming up to stop yourself from laughing. “Wait really?”
“Unfortunately,” Jeno sighs, “It seems he’s been getting more action than me nowadays.”
Your brows furrow, “Is Lee Jeno in a dry spell?”
“The worst kind,” He groaned, downing the rest of the drink with a quick chug. “I mean seriously, you know how tired my wrist is?”
You laugh, “Whatever happened with Lia?”
Jeno let out another sigh, “Didn’t last long at all. None of them do, at some point they think that they’ll get a little love story when I make it very clear from the start that i’m in no way looking for anything like that. Doesn’t help that because of Jisung and Darling, people assume the rest of us are looking for that.”
“Ah yes,” You slide over another serving you must’ve mixed while he started his rant. “Who would dare assume a twenty five year old wants to settle down.”
“I’m serious,” You chuckle, proceeding to make another person drink while he continues to rant. “It’s like no matter how up front I am about only wanting casual sex people expect to change my mind. It’s exhausting.”
“Tell me about it,” You sigh, “The persistence of some men around here really does give me the creeps. The other day I had to ask Heejin to walk me to my car cause this guy kept saying he would see me after my shift.”
Jeno frowns in concern, “You could’ve called me to pick you up.”
You shrug it off, “It was late anyway, and I had things to take care of.”
“Ah,” Jeno laughs, “You’re still working on that porno.”
“Will you shut up?” You look around frightened that anyone overheard him, lucky for you the crowd had died down.
“Have a drink with me?”
You raise a brow. “I’m on the clock.”
“Then after.” Jeno replies, taking another sip from his glass.
“I’m not drinking that fuck ass poison you sip on.”
He holds back a laugh, “You forget you’re the one who invented it.”
The memory springs to life, the first time you’d practiced mixing drinks for your bartender certification and Jeno being your willing subject. In his defense, he could handle his liquor quite a bit, and being young and broke meant that he’d take any ounce of free alcohol necessary.
You had mixed the worst kinds of alcohols together, whiskeys and tequila stirred into a concoction that somehow looked purple. Jeno had taken a careful sip, not before asking you just how safe it was, and though it must’ve been the most awful thing he’d ever tasted he couldn’t help but give you a shaky thumbs up. You’d been so excited to make your own recipe, and he was in no way going to burst your bubble.
It became his drink of choice since then, and despite the fact that you had tried it for the first time a year ago and realized just how disgusting it was, he continued to order it anyway. Maybe it grew on him, or maybe he just happened to succumb to Stockholm syndrome. Nevertheless, it was still his first choice.
“Yeah and i’ve since then improved, thank you very much,” You wring out a rag to clean up the table where some drunk had spilled a bit of his beer on the counter.
Jeno hums, “So then why don’t you prove it to me? Drinks later?”
You roll your eyes, never really able to say no to him. “If you can wait a couple of more hours.”
He nods, his eye smile mimicking that of a crescent moon. “Done.”
☆ 📚 ☆
Your shift went by quicker once Jeno had stopped by. Most of the drinks for the rest of the night were easy shots of whiskey that you served for the other customers besides him since you’d planned on drinking together. And it was nice, being able to make a bit of casual conversation in between working. It was always a relief when Jeno visited, even if that meant he teased you out loud a few times even in front of customers.
Luckily for him, you spared him a beating because he promised to buy your favorite. Somaek.
“I still remember when you would gag every time I ordered a beer,” Jeno jokes, poking at the last piece of fried chicken from the take out you guys had picked up before arriving at your own place.
You laughed, louder than you had to because alcohol always had a way of making you giggle over any and everything. “I told you, when you mix Soju you can’t taste the gross beer flavor.”
Jeno hums, smiling at you as you devoured the chicken like it was the last meal on earth. His smile quickly vanished when he got a notification on his phone, the brightness only peeking for a second before he clicked his phone off.
“Who is it?”
“Lia,” Jeno groans, “she wants to know if i’d be down to meet up.” You hum, taking a last swig of your glass of somaek. “The worst part is if I were even slightly more tipsy, I think I would’ve caved in.
“You’re insane,” You laugh, the man only meeting your eyes with a look of desperation.
“Yeah unfortunately.”
You pause for a moment, your mind trying to fight against oversharing because when you were about two drinks in you got to that point. Ultimately you lost the internal battle.
“I’m not having too good of luck in that department either,” You match Jeno’s energy with a sigh. “What makes it worse is that Shuhua says I gotta get laid cause it’s making my book bland.”
He coughs, “What?”
“Yeah,” You continue. “Don’t laugh but I've been really struggling writing a few of the more.. intense scenes. I’m really trying though, it’s just the idea of sex with a random stranger really is weirding me out. Then there’s the deadline, I wanted to have this done by the end of the year but Shuhua’s convinced that unless I get hands on inspiration then i’m totally fucked. Not literally but figuratively—“
“Wait wait wait,” Jeno interrupts you. “You’re telling me Shuhua told you to find somebody to fuck or kiss the book deal goodbye?”
“No? She said I could always just take out any sex scenes.”
Jeno snaps his fingers then, raising his glass to his lips. “But you’re perverted and refuse to.”
You frown, “I’m not perverted! Last I checked i’m not some freak who got hard on a carnival ride.” The memory of Disco pang pang was horrifying at the time it happened, now it was funny to look back on. Especially when you used it against him.
Jeno flushes red, “I told you to stop with that already! I wasn’t hard, it was my phone in my pocket.”
“Yeah sure thing neno,” You winked, pouring yourself another two to three ratio of soju and beer, Jeno’s hand subtly moving to help steady the glass as you poured the shot of soju into it.
“You’re irritating,” He rolled his eyes, though you could tell by the small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth that he was far from being angry at all. It’s just the way the two of you teased one another.
“And you,” you raise your glass like you were making a toast. “need to get laid.”
He lets out a dry chuckle, raising his own drink to clink yours. “Can’t argue with that.”
As you sip down the now room temperature beer, the bitter taste hardly effective since you were now tipsy enough you could hardly taste alcohol, an idea hit you straight on like a bus. You eyed the man in front of you, him being completely clueless to how you were observing him like he was a science experiment.
He was busy calling out meowy’s name with a few psst psst in between to get her to stop playing hard to get and let him pet her. By the time he set your cat onto his lap your mouth spoke before your brain could stop it.
“We should have sex!”
Jeno’s eyes widened tenfold, and because of how you’d forgotten to adjust your volume before speaking, meowy became startled and ran straight out of the living room space and into your bedroom.
His silence lasted long enough for you, despite the cloudy mind, to understand just how bizarre the suggestion was without any explanation. So you gave him just that.
“Think about it neno,” The usage of the childish pet name in this topic of discussion caused you to slightly cringe. “You need to get laid because your brain refuses to function without direct stimulation to your– thing.” You emphasized the word by jerking your hand forward in the direction of his crotch. “And I need to get laid so I can get inspiration for my book!”
The man was too stunned to speak, his hands coming up to his face to rub at his eyes like this was a dream. Unfortunately for him, it was not. “You can’t be serious.” He finally speaks.
You nod, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know y/n maybe because i’m your best friend and I don't think we’ve ever seen each other in that way?”
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “There’s no romance to this at all. Sure attraction plays a subtle part in this but it’s mostly about trust.” He sits still for a moment, pondering.
“We don’t have to, it was just a suggestion.”
You say it as if the words that left your mouth weren’t just a ticking time bomb in Jeno’s poor mind. You took another swig of your drink, falling into the same ordinary rhythm the two of you had from earlier.
Jeno speaks up barely holding in a cough when he asks, “Trust?”
You nod again, “I don’t really want to just sleep with just any guy, most of them don’t even know how to please a woman let alone charm them. I need inspiration, not regrets.”
Jeno smiles at that, “So you’re saying I know how to please women?”
Instead of falling into his bait you offer a shrug, "I've heard word, why? You saying what I heard is wrong?”
He chuckles lightly ignoring your dig, “Not at all. Just taking precaution. Wouldn’t want you to end up like Lia.”
You suck your teeth in annoyance, “You wouldn’t have to worry about anything, it’s not like it would change anything.”
“Y/N,” He calls your name again. Only this time there’s no teasing, no mocking. “You do realize that sex can change a lot of things for some people.” He speaks honestly, most of it coming from experience of countless horror hookup stories you’d heard first hand time and time again. “I trust you a lot, and i’m not against the idea but I don’t want things to ever get weird for either of us,” Jeno sighs. “The last thing I want is to make things complicated.”
“Well then it’s a good thing that none of us are looking for anything more than sex.” You reply directly. “The best part is it shouldn’t be awkward at all, we know each other well enough.”
Jeno takes a moment, a deep breath of consideration while you’re busy swirling your glass around.
“Okay,” He answers, your gaze falling over to him in an instant. “We can talk more about this later then, when you’re not drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He hums, “How many fingers?” He asks as innocent as ever, contradictory to his middle finger standing straight and tall in your face.
“One,” You answer, shoving his hand away. “and you can shove it up your ass, asshole.”
He smirks, “According to our earlier conversation you’d probably prefer it up yours.”
“Motherfucker—“
“I’m serious though Y/N, we can talk more about this later.”
You frown. “Fine,” You stand up from where you sat on the floor, “then i’m going to bed.”
“Go ahead,” He says it like it’s his own house. “I’ll clean this up.”
“Sure,” You reply, stretching your arms and legs before heading for your bedroom. “Use the spare by the way, don’t go home this late.”
You were able to afford an apartment with a spare bedroom, one that Jeno often occupied. Especially these days with how many people were staying in the band’s shared apartment these days.
“Yeah yeah, make sure not to sleep on your back, the last thing I want to wake up to is you dead from choking on your own vomit.”
“Don’t say things like that!” You shout in disgust, earning a laugh from him.
“Goodnight neno.”
“Night, Princess.”
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno always knew you were unpredictable, but this moment really took the cake.
He had cleaned up your apartment, figuring that the more he kept his mind occupied the less he had to actually overthink the arrangement you had suggested.
On one hand, the message was clear. You both got along so well because of how similar the two of you viewed the world. Hookups were nothing more than a sense of relief for you both, so as much as he loved to tease, he knew that there really was nothing to worry about. The other hand was complicated because for some reason he began to over analyze everything.
How would this work? Would the act itself be awkward? Would this ruin your friendship? Is this a one and done deal?
There were too many variables to consider, and Jeno wasn’t sure how this would go about if you weren’t just talking out of your drunk mind and really meant it. He took a deep breath as he stared into the mirror in your bathroom, setting down the toothbrush he had there because of course he had his own.
And as he laid in the spare bedroom, the subtle scent of your lavender sheets filling his brain, he chose to do what was either going to be the worst mistake in his life, or the best.
Really though, what was the worst thing that could happen? The both of you have sex and hate it?
“I stand by what I said,” You mumbled over the spoon in your mouth. “I think it could do us both good.”
Jeno had barely gotten the sentence out when you brought up the question again, this time over breakfast without any alcohol in your system to use as a cushion in case Jeno declined. Though Jeno wasn’t too sure you needed it anyway.
You were firm with your question, not in a way that made him feel like he had to agree but instead as if it was a simple request such as, What should we have for dinner? and not Do you want to have casual sex?
“You don’t have to agree with me, I can always figure out a solution to my own problems and I'm sure you’d have zero problems in that department either.” You added, looking over his arms that were pretty distracting. He was wearing a sleeveless tank top, the shirt of his he left with a pile of clothing, largely consisting of hoodies you had borrowed and forgot to give back, and clothes he kept at your place for the times he would stay over.
The issue was the opposite. Jeno has had many problems in that department lately.
“Okay,” Jeno begins, clearing his throat. You reacted with wide eyes. “Yeah sure why not?”
You smile happily, as if he’d surprised you with an all paid trip to the Bahamas or something. “Jeno, you have no idea how much this is going to help me!”
He frowns, surely you couldn’t be that inexperienced. The two of you had countless stories shared. You especially had a habit of rambling about.
“Wait,” You hop out of your seat. “We need to make a list of rules!” Before Jeno can comment you’re already running to your room, returning slightly breathless with a pen and paper in hand.
You set it down on the table slowly beginning to move the pen drawing line after line, your writing was surprisingly messy for someone who was an author. Jeno didn’t comment on it though, he doesn’t have time when you’re already pushing him further down the dining bench, scooting closer to him as you set down the paper that now reads.
Rules for our arrangement.
“What’s this?” Jeno asks, earning a bored look from you that translates to, are you really asking?
“Rules, I think it’ll be best so we can note our boundaries before just hopping into things.” Your smile is tight but genuine, which only makes Jeno realize just how nervous you really are. You weren’t the type to show your fears, but you were always one to be cut and clear about anything else you felt.
Jeno nods along, smiling softly in hopes that it’ll help you feel less awkward. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”
You smile widely, this time with full fledged confidence. “I’m glad you asked. So for starters, I think it’s best we start this arrangement with a few notes on what we are okay with and things we aren’t okay with.”
“Like?” Jeno asks before taking a sip of water out of his cup.
“Like, Anal!” Jeno chokes on the beverage, coughing repeatedly to regain composure. His scene doesn’t alarm you much, so you press further. “I don’t ever want anything up there.” You state flatly.
“Sure,” He nods, having cleared his throat and this time taking a sip to fully clear out his throat. “it’s not really my thing either.”
“Great.” You write down the first rule, Sex will only involve things the both of us are okay with. And in parenthesis: No Anal.
“Is there anything you wouldn’t want to do?” You question him. Jeno tries to think, it’s a bit harder to think about when you’re put on the spot. There’s nothing he’s too uncomfortable with that he wouldn’t just say in the moment, so he opts for the obvious answer.
“No Anal.”
You let out a laugh, “Great I guess we're both on the same page then.”
This felt almost ridiculous, but as long as you were happy he wasn’t going to question much. “Another thing, I need your permission to allow all of our uh– experiences to be used as inspiration for my novel.”
“I know Y/N trust me i’m cool with it.”
“Okay because the last thing i’d want is for you to be offended or upset if I write something you disagree with.”
Jeno shook his head, “Nothing to be ashamed of, I have quite the reputation i’ve upkept.”
You scowled, his cocky attitude baiting your reaction. “Okay, but don’t be offended when I make sure to add your size.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I can show you now if you’d like.” Jeno replies mockingly, reaching for his shorts.
You reach to stop his hand, “Let’s keep it in your pants at least a little while longer.” He shrugs, his arms folding around his waist as you write.
“Are there any rules you want to add?”
Jeno ponders for a moment. There wasn’t much he thought he could add with all seriousness. The situation itself was not very serious on his part, sleeping with a close friend all because he couldn't find a regular hookup who didn’t want dinner dates and eventual marriage? He felt pretty ridiculous, but since you had been the one to suggest it, it at least kept him from feeling like a weirdo.
There was one thing he needed as a rule, something that would give him peace of mind going into this arrangement.
“We have to separate our sex life and our friendship.” He spoke after some time. You had met his eyes with a brow raised.
“I’m sure that’ll be a bit difficult considering we’re going to be friends who fuck.” You joke.
He lets out a small chuckle, before adding with complete sincerity. “I think it’s important that we keep both our sexual life and our friendship separate. There’s no reason to let any of it get mumbled and jumbled, that's why friends with benefits never work.”
“Right,” You breathe out. “So then you’d prefer?”
“I’d prefer that no matter what happens, things won’t ever change. No matter what. Even if we stop sleeping together, we need to remain friends.”
It wasn’t just a request, what he wanted was a promise. One on paper that was needed in the rare case that everything went to shit. He wouldn’t be able to agree to it at all if that wasn’t agreed upon.
You met his eyes, a reassuring smile on your face. “Then if at any point any one of us want out,” You scribble down the rest in handwriting he could hardly understand. “or for any other reason, we talk to each other.”
The room was met with silence as you finished writing down everything, reading it over like it was one of the ten commandments until the two of you had it ingrained in your brains.
The quietness only broke when Jeno laughed aloud after teasing you by moving his thumb away from the ink you had to stamp his fingerprint on the paper. All uneasiness or anxieties vanished just like that, the two of you rebooting back into your playful dynamic.
“There!” You exclaimed happily once Jeno gave in and allowed you to bring his red stamped finger onto the paper.
Jeno hardly had time to admire you, his phone alarm going off reminding him of the Band’s practice today. He locked his phone, the blasting sound coming to a quick halt in an instant.
“I have to go now.” Jeno stood up from the seat, sliding across the floor easily even while you were still sitting.
“Wait!” You stuttered, a blush reaching your face as all nervousness came back in full force. “Uh. When did you want to start? Y’know.. doing.. stuff.”
Jeno had to use every fiber of his being to resist making fun of you. “Whenever you want to.”
You nodded. “Then how about tomorrow? I don’t have work so we could maybe, I don't know, go out?”
Yeah, Jeno really had to use the last of his restraint. He chose to laugh instead, “You trying to ask me out on a date?”
You scowled, “I’m just trying to set the mood.”
“Yeah i’m not sure that’s how friends with benefits really works,” He says too casually for someone who has never been in that arrangement until now.
“Right.” You reply.
“Y/N,” he calls out. “You can just call whenever you want to.”
He hopes the implication is clear.
“Sure, you too.”
With the way you look at him he knows that you understood. There’s a quick goodbye before Jeno is out the door. He hopes the guys don’t mind his slight tardiness, though if he’s serious almost all of the group had a problem being late to practice.
He feels a bit of relief, the two of you having found solutions to your growing problems. Well, at least a bit of his growing problems, but it wasn’t something he’d like to dwell on at the moment.
There wasn’t much anxiety, at least on his part, more so the awkwardness radiating off of you not knowing how to start but he was sure that the feeling would shrink with time. If he weren’t booked and busy with practice at the moment, he would’ve probably tried easing your embarrassment using a different method. That was mostly him thinking with his dick, which nobody could blame him for, it had been a pretty hard couple of months.
All in all, Jeno couldn’t feel more confident. It was a win-win situation, and since the both of you had agreed and talked everything over he was sure that nothing would go wrong.
☆ 📚 ☆
The moment Jeno had left your home, you let out a deep sigh.
To be completely honest, you had woken up this morning pulling the hair from your head as memories flooded your mind. You weren’t even sure you had wanted to step out of your bedroom hearing the man lurk around the place from behind the door.
You debated resting until he finally gave up and left, but the growl your tummy had let out at the smell of everything delicious wafting into your room had caused you to cave in.
On the bright side, as much as you were stupid and impulsive, he’d actually agreed. It saved you the embarrassment of being rejected, not to brag but that wasn’t something you were accustomed to experiencing. And now all of it was hitting you, at full force.
Friends with benefits.
You genuinely had zero clue just how that worked, did this mean that now at any time either one of you could just call on one another like a booty call? You let out a sigh, Meowy let out a meow in response, like she was asking where the man had gone.
You weren’t quite sure that you made the best decision, but only time would tell. For now you could feel ease creeping up your spine, this would solve one problem for now and in the worst case scenario, it would probably end in bad sex.
It was a chance you were more than willing to make.
There was nothing that could’ve mentally prepared you for heading into this type of arrangement. And no it wasn’t the friendship thing, it was not knowing just how to jump start into sex without looking insane.
The two of you sat in your living room, barely any distance between the two of you where you lay on the floor, watching the TV. Which was ironically out of the norm when the two of you were usually cuddling during your movie marathons. Everything felt off, even the movie playing on the TV that truthfully you randomly picked and now realized was definitely not something you were rating higher than one star on Letterboxd later.
Meowy had made herself a bit too comfortable with Jeno. Lying on his lap like nothing mattered in the world more than his hands petting her. Ridiculously enough, you felt a short wave of envy, shoving that feeling down immediately because in what world would you be jealous of your cat for living carelessly.
You were sure it had been almost an hour of just sitting next to each other, not a single one of you moving a single bone in your body. You were pretty sure he was waiting for a signal, but every time you had the nerve to try, you shrank in on yourself in an instant, overthinking everything. It was like the moment had long passed, that was until the worst thing imaginable happened.
There were moans blaring out of the TV, the movie having shifted from its weird cultish horror vibe into a porno. Meowy wasn’t a fan of the shift in volume, hopping off of your friend and walking away into her cat bed. You cursed silently, of course your cat would leave you to fend for yourself.
The uncomfortable silence filled the room, safe for the excruciatingly long sex scene playing out in front of you that felt like it was mocking you. You were suddenly thankful the room was dim enough that your redness would go unseen.
“Are you trying to subliminally tell me something?” Jeno whispered, his voice too close to your ear that only made you blush harder.
You refused to meet his gaze, if you did then you’d lose the last of your dignity. For a moment you weren’t sure how to reply, deciding to use all of your strength to sound as confident as ever. “If I was then would that finally get the ball rolling?”
He chuckled, his hand suddenly slipping around your waist. “Is that what you were waiting for?”
There were always times where the two of you would have a conversation and he’d allow his cocky nature to slip out. This time felt different though, it was like the room shifted with his tone.
“Yes.”
His eyes widened at your response, a slight falter from not having expected you to be so honest. “Then I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” He answers truthfully. His arms suddenly pull you closer to sit on his lap. The same arms that he left on full display with his sleeveless shirt, it really didn’t make things any easier for you. You’d been making subtle glances at them hoping he was into manhandling, which seems now you were right.
“How should I make it up to you?” He tilts your chin up with his fingers. Your faces are only inches apart. Damn he was good at this. You were aware of his game, you’d seen it play out many times in person. But why did it suddenly feel so different when it was directed at you? You suck in a breath, his thumb tracing the side of your stomach louder than the long forgotten movie playing behind you.
“Y/N,” He calls your name. “We don’t have to do anything.” His voice is soft and reassuring, only adding fuel into the growing heat.
“I want to, it's just,” You frown, hoping you don’t sound ridiculous. “I don’t know how to start.”
He nods in understanding, his palm wrapping around your cheek. “Do you want me to lead?”
“Please.”
You were sure you came off a bit more desperate than you meant to, but with the way his hips suddenly shifted just a fraction gave you the feeling he wasn’t complaining.
“Okay.” His voice is featherlight, you could feel his breath quicken as he closes the distance between you. “Then is this okay?” He asks, his thumb still tracing over your body, now fixated on the lower curve of your back.
You barely manage to nod before he’s connecting his mouth onto yours, a short peck to feel out the action before fully engaging. If any of your worries still existed they were certainly gone now, tuned out by the heavy beating of your heart. You leaned forward this time, your lips meeting this time with much less hesitation.
Jeno brought his right hand up to cup your face, his left hand around your waist, the grip firm to hold you in place. His teeth bite into your bottom lip, pulling a tiny gasp from you just to slide his tongue over the skin. You take that as a challenge, meeting him with your own eagerness and sliding your own tongue into his to deepen the kiss.
He groans, his hips shifting you into a more comfortable position on him. You’re not sure how many seconds pass like that. You slightly grind against him, the simple peck from earlier turned into a full on makeout session. Your hands fondling his arms to keep yourself from losing all of your balance as it grows heated. And just as your chest begins to tighten with every breath of yours being stolen by him, he pulls away.
You take in a deep breath trying to steady yourself, his eyes meeting yours with a question. One that you already have an answer to.
“Bedroom.”
The word comes out rushed and whiny, earning a low chuckle from him before he lifts you up with him. You had of course made out with people before, most of that happening in your early college years but this time was different. Jeno had taken your breath away but with that all motor function too, you noticed it now as your feet felt way too light.
He must’ve picked up on it, instead lifting you into his arms like you weighed equivalent to a pillow to him, and heading straight towards your bedroom. “Neno–“ You squeaked out, caught off guard by his sudden action. You couldn’t see his face from how he was carrying you over his shoulder but you were sure he was giving his signature samoyed smile.
You were proved right a moment later as he steadily set you down onto your bed. “Tell me, Princess, just how many book drafts of yours played out like this?”
Your cheeks reddened, he was spot on with the question. Male lead plopping the Main Character onto the bed before pounding into her with zero warning. The only thing that was missing was the use of his belt as a restraint for the main character’s hands. As much as that sounded interesting though, it was a little too early to hop into something as complex as that. So for the meantime, this would do.
It must’ve been a rhetorical question, since he doesn’t give you time to answer before he's lifting your shirt up and off your body. You pull him in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth, your patience growing thin with every second building up. You let out a happy sound, one that he drinks up, one hand sliding against your back to unclasp your bra in a quick second.
You push him back, noting the messy hair and the way his chest is practically begging for air. “You are way too good at that.”
“What can I say, i’ve had some practice.” He replies, meeting your mouth for a deep but short kiss compared to the ones before. You get the memo and start removing your own bra, discarding it onto the floor. But as a simple minded woman who believes in equality, and seriously loves a nice chest even on a man, you lift his shirt up all the same, meeting your own pair of fabric somewhere you couldn’t care less about.
He detaches from your lips, his mouth leaving kisses around your neck before slowly making it down to your breasts. “Fuck, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined.”
“Have you imagined me in this position on multiple occasions?” You tease, not expecting an answer.
“Only since I had to leave you to go practice when we signed our lives away.”
“That was only a day ago.”
“Really? It felt way longer than that.” Your words catch in your throat with how close his breath is over your sensitive nipple, every nerve in your body on standby waiting for him to do something. Lucky you, he doesn’t leave you waiting any longer. His mouth connecting around your chest and sucking harsh enough to make you moan.
The pleasure is foreign to you, the only experience you had being your own hands pinching against your chest whenever you seeked pleasure by yourself. Other men had usually disregarded that part of your body at all, unless of course they used it to their own benefit, squeezing onto your chest as if it were their own personal stressball. With every lick to your nub it sent a jolt to your body, growing hotter.
You could barely keep your eyes open now, focusing all of your attention on keeping the noise down because it wasn’t like you owned the house, it was rented. Jeno’s hand snakes down again, this time sliding through the elastic waistband of your shorts, tracing the thin fabric of your panties slick with your arousal.
“Neno please,” You whine, your hips growing weak even to the slightest touch of his fingers against you, subconsciously trying to grind down on his hands.
He detaches from your lips, his gaze hazy while he meets yours. You can already feel the ache on your chest from the littered bruises he’s left forming. Jeno must be growing impatient too, because he’s pulling down your shorts at your plea in record breaking time.
“Lube?”
“The bottom drawer to the right.”
The loss of his touch feels like an eternity of hell until he’s back again. Your cunt clenching against nothing as his hand pushes your legs further apart. You have to give yourself a moment to calm your nerves, the sound of the bottle opening signaling them to come back at full force.
“Fuck baby,” Jeno starts. “We might not even need that much with how wet you are for me.”
As cocky as he sounds, it only fuels your fire. Fuck Jeno for living up to his expectations without even having fucked you yet. You already felt stupid enough.
He slides a finger through the lace fabric, shoving it to the side as his middle finger pushes through your folds, the bed talk stalling you for long enough to warm the lube he’d gathered onto his fingers. It worked well, your cunt squeezing around his finger from where he curled it up. His fingers were much thicker than yours, a feeling you hadn’t felt in quite a while because you’d been the one prepping yourself most of the time.
“Another one please,” You breathe out. His ringer finger pushes in next, filling you up more and causing another moan to push past your lips.
“You’re so tight,” He mutters, his eyes zoned in on the way your cunt sucks in his fingers. His hand is moving on its own then, dragging slowly out of you before pushing in with more force. You let out another whine, your thighs threatening to shut on instinct to which he pinches them.
You wince, caught off guard by the sudden sharp pain as he smoothes his finger over the spot. “Keep them open, be a good girl and do that for me.”
The nickname does something to you, call it a hidden praise kink you hadn’t even realized you had until now. Jeno’s fingers are moving with much more pace now, not enough to completely satisfy you but enough to have you seconds from begging for more. His mouth clashes against yours again, swallowing every low noise you make as his fingers scissor you apart, and when he finally adds the third finger you feel seconds away from snapping.
You accidentally bite down on his lip, a warm metallic taste meeting your mouth that you can’t help but to taste more of. Jeno has no issue with this, the thrust of his fingers getting more urgent than before, his tongue begging to taste more of his own blood mixed with the sugary taste you have from snacking on artificially flavored gummies.
“Fu–nghh— neno”
You’re close, and all it takes is one sharp thrust of his fingers curling right into the spot you needed him most to have you finishing. Your eyes rolling back with the very welcome feeling of your orgasm washing over you.
His fingers continue to move, dragging out your pleasure for as long as he could until you're wincing from the overstimulation to which he removed them, your cunt suddenly far too empty. You feel like your soul has been knocked out of your body, taking a few deep breaths to gather the last of your energy.
“Are you okay?”
The chuckle slips out of your lips before you can even stop it. “Dude you just made me cum from your fingers alone and you’re asking that?”
Jeno looks around, confused on how that’s a shocking revelation. “Yes?”
You sigh, “I’m okay, just need a moment.” You open your eyes, his large frame still holding your thighs apart in between you. You probably shouldn’t laugh at a moment like this, but he really looks just like an obedient puppy waiting for your next move.
He catches the smile on your face, his expression growing confused. “What?”
“Nothing, you just look really cute right now.”
He frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to look hot and sexy and so unresistable you can’t help but climb onto me?”
You shrug, “sure you look all of those things too.”
His frown deepens, he cups your hands with his own, holding them on either side of you, Not rough at all, if you wanted to you could move him off of you, but a part of you really liked the illusion of him pinning you down. Perhaps another time he’d really use all of his strength, now that idea sent another wave of arousal in between your legs.
Jeno catches on quickly, how can he not with the way you’re squirming around. “You like being manhandled?”
You don’t answer. You trace over his body instead, eyeing the very prominent bulge in his pants. Since your legs were free now you bring up your knee, rubbing it ever so slightly against him. He shutters at the contact.
“Neno,” You whisper his name like it was a prayer. “I think i’m ready for the next round.”
He lets out a short laugh, though there’s hardly any humor in his tone whatsoever. You take note of his ears, the faint pink from how badly he must’ve been holding back. If you were reading him correctly, that meant he was probably too close to snapping. You were thankful he was focused on your knee rubbing against him, cause if he saw your expression now it would’ve given yourself away.
He lets go of where he had your hands, giving you the opportunity to wrap them around him and feel up his muscles you’d been way too distracted earlier to fully admire.
“Fuck–“ He groans. The sound like music to your ears and further encouraging you to touch him. He pulls his shorts down slightly, revealing the waistband of his boxers, the print of his dick making your mouth water.
You’re already reaching forward, cupping him firmly. A wince sounding from his lips. “Can I?”
He nods. You hook down the fabric, his thick and needy cock slapping against him fully erect and flushed against him. You pump him twice, using your other hand to reach for the condom he’d grabbed earlier when he got the bottle of lube.
There was no going back after this, you did realize that as you rolled the condom down onto him. “You’re sure about this?” He asked one last time, his breathing heavy waiting for your answer to finally cave in.
“Never been more sure.” Within the next second you feel the stretch as he pushes into you, your cunt squeezing his thick girth inches at a time until your hips meet his own. He gives you enough time to adjust, kissing down the side of your shoulder to help calm your nerves.
It’s far from your first time, but this was nothing like any of the men you’d had before. His size fills you up in all of the ways you’d only thought possible in some kind of fairy tale.
The sound of your name being called makes you open your eyes that you hadn’t even realized were shut. You clench around him unintentionally, pulling a groan from his throat that only feeds your confidence. You could tell based off of how his arms tightened their hold around you, how wrecked he was.
“You can move.”
He wastes no time, setting a slow pace that somehow drives him directly to your sweet spot. He’s way less quieter than you’d assumed he’d be in bed, his noises low yet heavy, matching your moans as he continues to thrust inside you.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm approaching once more. And with how patient he’d been, it was like a prayer had been answered.
“Neno I- I’m—“
“I know baby me too,”
With an embarrassing amount of thrusts the two of you came undone together. His mouth landing on yours to capture the last of your screams as your pussy clenched around him with your release, triggering him to finish into the condom.
After a quick moment of the two of you registering everything, you can’t help but laugh, Jeno's wounded expression only causing you to laugh more.
“I’m sorry it’s just,” You catch your breath, stopping yourself from looking any more insane than you probably did now. “Fuck, those girls were really not lying.” His head tilted in confusion. “You really are big.”
He laughs then, "That's really nice and all but if you keep saying things like that I might have another problem.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’d just come once and was not quite ready for another round.
“What’s that saying? What’s one’s problem is another's solving?” You smirk.
He scoffs, pulling out of you with a swift action that makes you wince. “You could barely last one round, save it for next time.”
“Me?” You gasp. Jeno stands up already having discarded the condom in your trash. He’s reaching for his boxers from the ground to put on as some kind of shield. You were a bit disappointed, his size while soft was surprisingly just as impressive as it was when it was hard. “I came twice!”
He’s back then, a damp towel in his hand to clean around your sensitive thighs. “And you also scared the living shit out of me when you went limp after you came the second time.”
You roll your eyes, “Not my fault you fucked me dumb.”
He snorts, tossing the damp towel onto the ground as he lays back down beside you, pulling you close to his chest in what could be viewed to some as intimate, but to you two was normal behavior.
“Ew you’re gross and sweaty!”
He hums, “So are you.”
You groan, “Release me you freak.”
“Aftercare is highly recommended after any heavy sex session, just lie with me for a bit, okay?”
“I’d argue it could’ve been heavier,” You mumble, succumbing to his hold around you.
“Next time,” His voice is light, leaving you with a strange sense of peace. You couldn’t help but stare now. With his eyes shut you could observe him closer than ever before. The soft lips of his that had been on you multiple different times tonight, red and bruised from the makeout session you had earlier.
You squeeze an arm out of his hold, raising your fingers to trace over the small bite on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry I bit you.”
“Don’t be,” He sounded dazed, like he was seconds away from falling asleep. “If I had a problem then I would’ve stopped you.”
“Oh so you are a freak!” He hums, not denying it. “Oh my god you are, aren't you! No wonder those girls had zero plans on letting you go.”
He opens his eyes then, meeting you with a bored look. “I wouldn’t be talking if I were you, aren’t you the one who was seconds from coming just from me pinning you down?”
“What?” Your jaw drops. “That’s so untrue! This is defamation!”
He shuts his eyes again, seemingly ignoring your remarks yet keeping a smile on his face the entire time.
“I could sue you! I’d take that drumset from you in a second.”
“Then would you take my job too?” He replies mockingly.
“Hey I could! The guys really happen to like me, you know I think if I talked it out with them we could work something out.”
He hums, “Then I guess i’d have to learn how to make some drinks and fill in for you?”
“I think bartender Jeno would suit you well.”
“Jeno? But what happened to Neno?” You regret even speaking to him instead of just playing dead after sex the second he brings up the nickname.
You choose instead to turn your cheek to him with a pout. “You really love yourself some pillow talk.”
“I’m not the one who started it.”
“I wasn't pillow talking with you I was threatening you.” You retort. “You’re always so full of yourself you know not everyone is trying to bed you, right?”
He laughs, “Did I not just bed you?”
“Ah but that doesn’t count!”
You’re both laughing then, every single ounce of regret fading away. You were silly to ever think that things could change between you two, and this was proof enough that sex didn’t necessarily mean everything would be different between the two of you.
If you could flick off every movie and novel for overdoing the trope you would right now. Because as you laid next to Jeno you realized one thing, it would take more than just one hookup to erase the history you had both built together.
Part Two:
Dare
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in no way secretive, but he also wasn’t the type to tell just everyone every single activity he found himself doing daily. He was quite the opposite to Donghyuck in that way. Where the lead singer acted as if he would die if he wasn’t in the loop twenty four seven, Jeno kept most things lowkey.
But there was one issue with that.
“Late for the third practice in a row,” Donghyuck popped out of seemingly nowhere, trailing behind Jeno as he made his way over to the couch to set down his bag.
“Don’t know what you mean, Jisung isn’t here yet either.”
“Thats because the dude is probably getting his dick wet right now,” Jeno scowls at the idea, “You, have been getting zero action.”
“You don’t know what I do in my free time.”
“I know you’ve racked ten hours a day on valorant all last month,” Donghyuck hums, tilting his head like he had discovered groundbreaking information.
Jeno sighs. “You’ve been in my room.”
“I told you, your controller runs smoother than mine.”
“So then grab it and leave, why are you snooping?” Mark tunes in from where he’s standing, ironically enough, tuning his own guitar.
“Because JenJen has been out way more than he usually is, and I know he’s not at any bars or clubs because I've been at all of them.”
“Ever considered he was avoiding you?” Jaemin smirks.
“Well no, that's unlike him.”
“I’m still here, y'know." Jeno shakes his head, nodding over at Mark in a quick apology. “Sorry, time went by quicker than I’d thought.”
It was the truth after all. He had made it very clear to you that he ran a tight schedule today, one that miraculously worked out in your favor considering how easy it was for Jeno to give into your whiny pleas. Especially when they were all he could hear with your hands in his hair roughly tugging as he ate you out slowly. It didn’t take long for you to finish on his tongue, it did however end with a quickie that lasted a bit longer than it should’ve.
“Don’t worry about it. Five minutes means nothing when you compare it to,” Mark checks his watch, the sound of the door twisting open. The creaky door revealed Jisung, who looked too sweaty for someone who drove himself here. “Ten.”
“I’m sorry I’m late I was—“
“Nobody wants to hear about your sex life.”
“I do.”
Jaemin winks at Jisung, the other frowning. Jeno would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that if he made a single wrong move all attention would be directed to him. He moves away from the group slowly, hoping they’re too busy drilling the youngest to notice him slipping by.
Unfortunately, that's not the case. “You alright man? I feel like the only times I ever see you is when we’re practicing.”
Jeno stops in his tracks, Mark standing before him with a slightly worried look on his face. Mark was a worrier. He didn’t like to make it very known, usually he played it off as just curiosity. But Mark always had the habit of playing with his fingers when he was concerned.
“I’m great, actually just been spending more time with friends.” Jeno hopes the excuse is enough to let him escape, though if Jaemin was the one he said that to he would’ve been caught instantly.
“Oh,” Mark seems relieved, “Y/N? You should bring her over some time, or better yet bring her over to our set next weekend.”
“Yeah man I’ll let her know but I’m pretty sure she’s going to be busy.”
He knew you’d be busy, you mentioned that the night before, about how busy your work schedule was going to be and so there wouldn’t be much time in between to hang out. You had apologized profusely, to which he’d told you there was seriously no reason to. If he could last months without sex, he could last one week while he was out of town.
“Y/N! We haven't seen her in a while!” Jaemin joins the conversation, “How has she been?”
Mark is quick to give a short answer to him, one that Jeno is thankful for as he steps towards his place, drumsticks in hand. The other guys were still talking to each other, the conversation shifting to how Mark doesn’t appreciate them being late constantly. Jisung arguing about how he’s in more trouble when Donghyuck has shown up late to practice more times than Jisung.
The guys were certainly not used to the rise of fame they’ve had, adjusting to a busier schedule and way more practice sessions than ever before. Jeno hadn’t even had time to check in with his family so much anymore because of how busy he was.
The reminder plagues his mind, making him reach for his phone to swipe through the family group chat that he hadn’t been catching up with for reasons that would only make him guilty. There wasn’t much to catch up on except for his cousin asking him for tickets to Oblivion’s show this weekend and another asking if he’s bringing Jaemin as his plus one to his sister’s wedding. That one he skipped past because Yeri had really been trying to make moves on Jaemin
Shit. He had forgotten about how soon that was. He slid out of the chat, noticing a more recent text from his mother.
Mom: I hope you aren’t forgetting about the wedding. I ordered your suit for you and we still need to get it tailored. Stop by soon, I’ve seen my own son on my phone more than in person.
He shoots back a simple reply. He would make sure to visit her soon. More than likely after the show, since his hometown was only half an hour away.
He hadn’t been home in a while, something he was regretting now that he realized it. He did love visiting his family, the problem was that as much as they supported him they, his mother mostly, couldn’t help but make subtle comments.
Like why wouldn’t he want his own place? She was willing to pay his rent so he didn’t have to share space with all of his roommates. Jeno declined on multiple occasions. As much as the guys were annoying, he didn’t mind their company.
Jeno grew up in a household different to the rest. His parents spent most of their time abroad, his father managing the family business and his mother spending most of her time performing in front of stadiums as a nation-known cellist. He did have his older sister, Seulgi, though she was busy with business school to eventually take on their family business.
He loved his family of course, and they loved him but being with the guys felt like he finally had brothers, annoying and kind of invasive, but brothers nonetheless.
“Okay enough screwing around, seriously.” Mark calls for the rest of them. The guys make their way to their positions, Jeno was about to set his phone down when he spots your message.
Princess: You busy tonight?
You had set your own nickname on his phone when you found out he had you as FN/LN, it stuck around since then. He smirks, typing in his reply.
Neno: Why?
You miss me already?
The chat bubble shows that you’re typing. He smiles to himself, awaiting your reply.
Princess: And other things…
I'm free at ten, you have a key.
He’s about to reply when Jaemin pops up from behind him, startling him into shutting his phone off. “Who are you texting?”
“Family.”
Jaemin scoffs, clearly not buying the excuse but choosing to ignore it. “Alright Vin Diesel.” He takes a few steps away, not before raising a brow like he was onto Jeno.
With what little time left before they start warming up Jeno sends a quick thumbs up, hoping that gets the message across clear enough. He can’t say he regrets any of the decisions made in the past few weeks, and if he could make an educated guess based off of how often you ran towards your laptop to write things down after sex, he was sure you felt the same.
He wouldn’t admit it to the guys, mostly because whatever he was up to wasn’t really their business, but also because he liked the sneaky vibe the two of you had going on. It wouldn’t last forever, that’s for sure. But could you blame him for not wanting his friends to ask question after question about you?
If anything he was doing you two a favor, the guys would probably jump you with questions about Jeno that they would never be able to squeeze out of him. There was also the fear that if any of the guys started to catch on then he’d have to explain himself. They had already had a habit of teasing him whenever he mentioned spending nights at your place, even before this arrangement began.
Especially Jaemin who was always the hopeless romantic, reading into things too much. He always bugged Jeno with questions about you, ones like how nice you complimented each other, and how cute the babies would be if you wanted any. It was a problem that Jeno easily solved by setting boundaries, sure, yet still left him wary of telling his friend.
Jeno decided that it would be best to keep this from them, at least for as long as he could. It wasn’t so bad though, because on one hand while you got to tell your own friends, he kept it to himself. A secret that he cherished on his own, one that he could smile freely without anyone poking into what deeper meaning could be there.
☆ 📚 ☆
The last thing you expected was for you to be drunk out of your mind on a random Wednesday at six in the afternoon. It came as no shock that the reason came down to one single factor. Yuqi. The girl was known for her spontaneous trips all around the globe, so when she texted you to meet with her since she happened to be in town, you couldn’t decline.
So you had reluctantly canceled the plans from earlier with Jeno, one too many sorry texts and gifs until he finally called you to say it was really okay. Practice had gone on a bit longer than it usually was with their show coming up soon. And before you could offer another apology for not being able to go out and travel with him to see the band, he was already stressing that you need to worry less.
So that’s what you were doing now, relaxing with three empty soju bottles on the table to account for that. Yuqi sitting in front of you, picking at the samgyeopsal that you had eaten way too much of since she’d offered to pay. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, call it a buzzed daze or whatever but you felt good.
“Shuhua tells me you’ve been focused on writing,” Yuqi starts, “Says you’re trying to push yourself to release by the end of the year.”
You hum, batting your lashes to snap out of whatever daydreaming you’d been doing. “I’ve been pouring all of my hard work into it.”
Yuqi giggles, “Yeah, she said you’re not bad at all, just lack sex appeal.”
You gasp, “I’ll have you know that’s not true!”
She laughs louder, instigating just as she always did. “I’m kidding! She did say you were a bit stuck with the smut scenes.”
“Wow and I thought there was a non disclosure for book transcripts.” You joke, shoving a piece of the pork into your mouth. The sweet glaze being the first thing you taste as you bite into the meat, savoring the flavor like it was gourmet. You guessed that came with the buzz.
“Hey she said that I should talk to you about it, that I might offer good advice.”
“Cause you’re a sex fiend?”
She clicks her tongue, “Because I am an editor for one of the most recognized Magazine Journalism organizations in the world!” A few customers who happen to be dining in raise their eyebrows, giving you a look of disdain and annoyance. Yuqi bows her head slightly in apology before coughing and adjusting her volume, “And because I am a sex fiend, yes.”
“No need.” You reply, picking another piece of meat from the stove on the table. Yuqi frowns. To be honest, if she would’ve come around earlier offering you her own hook up stories than you probably would’ve taken that and used it for inspiration, but now you had your own experiences to use. Not that you had told anyone about that as of yet, so of course Yuqi was looking at you like you just turned down a million dollar check.
What Yuqi was offering was like a goldmine to early writers, ones who, like you, struggled with writer's block because of lack of inspiration. The only thing is, there wasn’t much left uninspired to you. Not when for the past few weeks since the first time you and Jeno had sex. If anything, you’d become quite the fiend yourself, texting him almost every day about perhaps trying something new. For research purposes of course.
“No need?” Yuqi spoke up, "Don't tell me you’ve replaced me with someone else. I didn’t even get to tell you about my trip to Thailand!”
She forgot that she did tell you about that trip, right as it was happening. She called you straight from the bedroom of some girl named Minnie that she’d met at a soirée where she downed way too many glasses of champagne to remember how she ended up in a different hotel room.
“Not replace you, just got some first hand experience.” You smile, refusing to meet her eyes as a warm smile makes its way on your face. She gasps loudly, having realized what the implications meant, the scattered people around shaking their heads at her volume.
“You found another fuck buddy?” She lowers her voice, leaning in closer to analyze any answer your body could tell her. Blame it on the alcohol and the dry mouth you get after a few too many shots, but you gulp. Her eyes widened once more. “Oh my god you did! Why wouldn’t you say anything?”
“Must I need to share everything?”
“Y/N,” She deadpans. “That’s like your main characteristic. Chronic oversharer?”
You open your mouth to reply but she cuts you off. “Don’t argue against it, it’s true! The first conversation we had was about how your childhood cat died and inspired you to become a Bartender.”
Rest in Peace Martini.
You shake your head, setting down your glass. “Alright, fine. Yeah I do, but it’s not like you think it is!” Yuqi tilts her head. “I mean that! You know i’m not really one to have a Fuck buddy.”
“Yet you do anyway?”
She was right, and your stubbornness hated that. “Only because it’s not just some rando!” This time, everyone’s eyes landed on you disapprovingly. You winced, quietly apologizing for your volume.
“Which is exactly why you kept it a secret in the first place, and why you refuse to tell me without sounding ominous, and also explains the fact that you look so tense right now because i’m putting all of the pieces together and— oh my god.” Yuqi pauses, “You’re fucking Lee Jeno.”
You almost spat out your drink, “How did you even guess that?”
“I had a hunch,” Her eyes trail down to your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt tugged lower than it was supposed to be. “Also I've only seen bites like that from one man.”
You weren’t sure if you should be concerned or jealous that she was familiar with his bite marks, not because the two of them had ever messed around but mostly because up until this moment you didn’t know she knew of his bedroom habits. You settled on fear. Yuqi’s guesses were never wrong. It was as scary as it was impressive.
“Calm down tiger, I only know that because he used to hook up with my college roommate.”
For some strange reason that gives you a bit of relief. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She stares at you for a bit, contemplating whether or not to argue with you, ultimately deciding not to.
“Fine, don’t say anything, just drink with me.”
You wouldn’t dare decline. Yuqi excuses herself, heading out to the bar to grab a few shots for a quick second. You’re left alone, scrolling through your phone and slowly thinking about Jeno. You think back to what Yuqi had mentioned earlier. Jeno’s fling with her roommate that you weren’t aware about. You can feel it again this time stronger, a pang in your chest that you refused to dwell over. Your attempts at ignoring fall flat because within the next second you slide into your recent chat with him, sending a text before your brain could decide otherwise.
Princess: What are you doing?
A few minutes pass with no reply until the notification comes in. It’s a picture of him in dim lighting, the only light coming in from what you assumed was his pc. He had headphones on, the mic barely covering his mouth. From the angle, you could see a bit of his clothing. A black tank top, that he apparently had multiple different versions of, his muscular arms on display. You bite your lip, saliva gathering in your mouth from how badly you needed that right now. The next message is short and simple.
Neno: On league w hyuck.
You feigned chalance, staring at the picture longer than you should’ve. Your eyes roam around the place, searching for your friend’s whereabouts before you could make a stupid decision. She’s nowhere, which meant one thing. Your finger is over the call button about to click when you hear someone come up, assuming it’s Yuqi you set your phone down.
“Hey, are you lonely?”
A stranger you hadn’t noticed until now stood in front of you, the man clearly intoxicated with the way his speech was slurred.
“Ah,” You look around for Yuqi, she’s nowhere in sight. “No not real—“
He doesn’t give any time for you to answer, sliding an empty chair way too close to you. From how close he is you can smell the alcohol off of him, even worse with the way he opens his mouth. “It’s not safe for your friend to just leave a pretty girl like you here.”
Your heartbeat rises, his words coming off way more threatening than friendly. You awkwardly laugh, hoping that you don’t at all look as scared as you feel right now.
“Seriously, you’re fucking beautiful.” His arm reaches forward, holding onto your arm. “You got a boyfriend?”
“I–“ You stutter. Fuck. This was not at all how you were supposed to sound like. You’d experienced enough cat calls to know that the best choice in this situation is to walk away. For some reason though you couldn’t help but freeze up.
“Then how about you come with me tonight? I could show you a fun time.”
“How about you fuck off instead.” Yuqi appears out of nowhere, a deep frown on her face, the drinks in her hand coming down to slam against the table.
The man scoffs, looking more annoyed than frightened. “I don’t think someone like you should be talking like that.”
“And I don’t think someone in their thirties should have a receding hairline, but clearly I was wrong.”
He sneers, standing up from where he’s seated shortening the distance in between them. “Are you crazy?”
“Are you?” She starts, walking closer to him. In most scenarios you’d find your friend’s confrontational attitude inspiring, but right now all you could think about is just how drunk this man is, and just how many things could go wrong.
“Watch your fucking tone,” He stares down at Yuqi. “Bitch.”
You stand up then, trying to deescalate the situation without any hospital trips tonight. Yuqi opens her mouth about to start arguing back, the other people around doing nothing but sitting down in their seats. “Hey, there’s no need for any of this. I have a boyfriend, so if you don’t mind leaving—”
“What and I’m supposed to believe you?” He turns his attention to you. A group of men get up from their seats, quickly grabbing onto the man who you assume is their friend. They refuse to meet your eyes, instead trying to calm the guy down and take him back to where they were seated.
“No fuck no I’m not leaving!” The man shoves his friend off of him. “These two bitches think they’re better than me or something.”
You hope he’s too drunk to notice the way you roll your eyes without thinking. As a bartender you’d seen many aggressive drunks, you knew better not to react spontaneously since they’d only take it as a challenge. You tried to keep your composure, instead turning your attention to Yuqi who had at some point during the dispute, grabbed onto her phone.
You meet eyes with her, mouthing let’s go to her. She nods regretfully, holding back all of her anger on the tip of her tongue. You're about to step around him when he focuses on you. He grabs onto your wrist, “The fuck do you think you’re going?”
You pull your arm away, his grip not tight enough to scare you off. Okay, now you were seriously getting pissed off. “Dont fucking touch me.”
He lets out a deep chuckle, “Why? You seemed like that's all you wanted earlier.”
Call it liquid courage but you felt a sudden surge of anger. All you wanted was good food, fun with a friend, and maybe a booty call at the end of the night not whatever bullshit this guy was on. You were off the clock for fuck’s sake.
You're not even sure when it happens, just the direct aftermath. The man’s on the floor, blood dripping from his nose as you hold onto your hand. Your knuckles red from the contact to his face, more than likely going to leave a bruise. Yuqi’s eyes are wide, and you can tell she’s trying with all of her power to hold back laughing.
The sorry guy is still on the floor, holding his nose and freaking out about the blood as his friends try to stop the bleeding and calm him down. You take that as a sign to leave, smiling and nodding at the crowd who are staring jaws slacked. Yuqi throws a quick few bills on the table before grabbing onto your non injured hand and dragging you outside of the restaurant.
There she finally lets her expression change, her laughs filling the silent outside air. “Oh my fuck—“ She tries to catch her breath. “What the fuck when did you learn to punch like that?”
“I’m a girl who works as a bartender, it’s a safety measure.” You shrug, prompting her to laugh more. You fall into a fit of your own, her contagious cackling promoting you to join. The roads are hardly busy at all, a comforting fact to you when the two of you probably looked insane right now.
She finally steadies her breaths, at the same time a car approaches the side of the road. One that you recognized as Jeno’s. He parks it, stepping outside of the vehicle and directly to the two of you. You suck in a breath, his hands coming to your face as he looks into your eyes with worry.
“What happened? Are you okay?” You open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off. His hand grabbing onto your tender one, the colors barely visible from where the bruises were forming. “Youre hurt.”
“You should’ve seen the other guy!” Yuqi jokes.
Jeno’s eyes darkened. “Where the fuck is he.”
“Neno it’s fine he was just some drunk,” You smile tightly, hoping it’s enough to keep him from doing anything stupid. It’s not.
“It’s not fine. I could hear him through the phone and drunk or not he shouldn’t be talking to anyone like that.”
You couldn’t lie, the way Jeno was acting right now was kind of sexy but this was not what you wanted right now. The situation had been dealt with. You were pretty sure with a punch of that strength you’d at least broken his nose.
“Jeno,” You slide your fingers into his hand, the act more intimate than you realized. He seems caught off guard, closing his own fingers around yours lightly so as to not hurt you more. “I promise, I’m okay.” He sighs, his jaw clenched with everything he’s holding back right now.
“Well,” Yuqi starts. “There’s an obvious connection going on right now.”
You both turn to face the brunette, her smile teasing with a flicker of amusement in her eye. You guessed this was probably the most fun she's had in a while. You expect him to pull away, closing your eyes to brace yourself from the embarrassment. The moment never happens, his hand refusing to let go of you even as he turns to face your friend.
Jeno huffs out a short chuckle, “Hi Yuqi.”
“Hey Jeno! It’s been quite the while.” She looks behind the two of you to a car that pulls onto the side of the road behind Jeno’s. “I wish we could chat longer but unfortunately I do have a flight to catch so..”
“You said you’re staying for a week?”
“Ah,” Yuqi gulps, caught in the lie. “Right well I should start packing early. It was nice seeing you two though, goodbye!”
She's gone the next second, sneaking around the two of you to get into the car. You smile amused by her antics. Jeno doesn’t let go, instead leading you with him towards the car. You follow behind, nothing but the sound of the engine from Yuqi’s mysterious ride fading into the night. He opens the door for you, letting you in and shutting it as he makes his way over to the drivers side.
The ride is full of silence, the traffic lights illuminating Jeno’s face to help you decipher his current mood. He’s unreadable to most, especially when he’s upset. But not to you. Never to you. You knew him like the back of your hand.
You try and come up with something to say when your phone lights up.
Yuqi: Oh he’s down baddddd. He called me to go check on you didnt even say hi just said go check on y/n then said he was on his way and hung up.
I thought it might be best if you wanted to see him so I got a ride lol :P
Text me when you get home tho!
Unless you’re too busy getting busy iykwim ;))))
You shoot out a quick reply, closing the app to open your recent calls. Jeno was at the top of the recents page. You must’ve called him accidentally when that man snuck up to you, no wonder he mentioned hearing the conversation.
That made things much more awkward for you. For one, you had been the one to cancel plans on him. Then after a few drinks you called him, ruining his game because you couldn’t simply get the stranger to fuck off. That must’ve been why he was silent. He was mad at you. The furrow in his brows gave away that much.
“I’m sorry,” you start, “for ruining your night.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, his eyes only barely meeting yours as he continues to drive. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t it? I didn’t even mean to call you. I was going to handle it myself.”
He takes a deep breath, “Stop, that's not it.”
“Then what is it? Are you mad you didn’t get to hit him first? Is this like a weird Alpha Male dominance thing?” He chuckles and for some reason that makes you more frustrated. “I’m serious, Jeno. Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad,” he pauses, “Well not in the way you think.”
You lour, “What kind of response is that? Is this some kind of puzzle to solve? Oh great mysterious Jeno, please allow me to discover the truths of why you're angry!”
“I’m not mad,” He stops at a red light, head turning to look at you directly, your own eyes meeting him with slight annoyance. “I-“ He starts again, turning back to the road. “I’m upset. I wish I was there with you and that you wouldn’t have to deal with those poor excuses for men. And it's not that I don’t think you can handle things on your own, it's just that I wish you wouldn’t have to. Call it my ego but I want to be there to prevent shit like that.”
You blush, remorseful for your tone seconds prior. You were jumping to conclusions quite a bit. No, a lot a bit. Jeno wasn’t the type to want to admit how he felt, so you knew it did take him more courage than the average person to open up.
If his pride was hurt doing so then you thought the best option would be to hurt your own back. “If it helps, I was upset at you earlier too.” You can see his brow raise slightly. “I texted you mostly cause Yuqi mentioned you used to hook up with her roommate. If it’s like an ego thing, I guess technically I’m the same.”
“Miyeon?”
You wince at the name. “Sure.”
You weren’t aware of when the two of you made it to your apartment, just that suddenly you were in the familiar dark garage, cars parked all around the grey space. He turned the key, his car turning off as the two of you stayed quiet.
“Miyeon was just a fling, I didn’t tell you because it was over as quickly as it began.”
You refuse to move a muscle. You couldn’t explain why the thought still bugged you but it did. “Okay.” You say, and you're reaching for your seat belt when his hand stops you.
“I’m serious, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
You knew that was true. The two had probably gone about their life without acknowledging each other. Jeno probably even lost track of her within the list of girls he’d already been with. For some reason the thought bugs you.
You shake it off, “I know, Neno. It’s okay, it was just a lapse in judgment.”
He nods, refusing to look away from you. You're not sure when he removed his own seat belt but he did, because suddenly his hands moved to remove your own. Your heart was pounding, his breath featherlight against you, raising the hairs on your arms.
He pulls away slightly, looking into your eyes for any words you left unspoken, all of which he’d taken right from your mouth. Speaking of, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, the overwhelming urge to pull him closer taking over your entire being. He must get the memo, because with his next move he’s cupping your face and kissing you.
The kiss is not at all like the ones you’d had before. Where those before were pure adrenaline, his lips met yours with an apology. Slow and gentle. His tongue grazed your bottom lip like he couldn’t get enough of you. And when you were about to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.
“Goodnight, Princess.”
You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. Was he insane? You snapped out of whatever daze you’d been in, facing him. He was already turning the car back on.
Wow so he really is insane.
You scoff, about to get up and out of this car and block him on every app to ever exist when you stop yourself. You bring your legs up onto the seat, hooking your hand under his seat to slide it further away from the wheel.
“What are you doing?”
You ignore him, and once there’s enough space between you move over, hopping onto his lap. His hands hold your waist on instinct. “It’s bad manners to leave a girl hanging after kissing her like that.”
He smiles mockingly, “Like what?”
You bring your hand up, mimicking the way he held onto you. “Like it hurt you to pull away.”
“Maybe it did,” He whispers, one more word and his lips would be touching yours. You aren’t sure who made the move, just that all of a sudden you were both on each other once again, this time with a sense of urgency.
His hand slid into your shirt, fingers trailing up your spine to push you closer to him. The action only fueled your hunger more, you kissed him harder. It was possessive, like you wanted to leave a mark on him, one that told him that for now he was yours. You rolled your hips once, the two of you sucking in a breath in sync at the feeling.
He pulled away, his chest heaving. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.” You knew him well enough now to know he was trying desperately to come up with an excuse. Why he was, you weren’t sure.
“Why not?” You ask, taking a moment to give him time to think. He didn’t answer. Feigning innocence you grinded your hips down once again. His jaw clenched, a tell sign that he was holding back, redness creeping up his face. “Nobody’s around.”
“I don’t have condoms in here.”
You shrug, condoms were the last of your worries right now. “I don’t mind it as long as you don’t.”
His gaze darkens, a smile creeping onto his face. “Is that what you want?”
More like what you needed. If he didn’t dick you down right at this moment you would probably just end up getting yourself off then going to bed frustrated. There really was no comparing your own smaller fingers to his thick ones, and even your pussy was starting to tell the difference.
You nod and that’s enough for him to curse a fuck it and bring his mouth to yours. This time it was all teeth and tongue. Nothing but pure fervency to consume every part of each other. You let out a gasp as he slips his fingers under your skirt, dragging them against the damp fabric.
“You’re so wet baby,” He pulls away, whispering against your sensitive neck. “Is this all for me?” You nod, wishing for nothing more but him to fill you up already. He clicks his tongue, “Come on Princess we’ve talked about this before, use your words.”
“Yes, since you sent that picture of you.” You ramble. You think it would probably be best if you were shot dead at the moment. What was that one animal that gets so embarrassed that it just dies on the spot called?
He chuckles, finding your confession flattering. “Then I shouldn’t tease you any longer.” He says before sliding your panties to the side and shoving two long fingers in you at once. The squeeze is tight, but in all of the right ways. You whine, grinding down on them to feel them hit deeper.
“Fuck,” He says, fixated on the way you squeeze around his digits. “Use my fingers to get yourself off.” You waste no time listening, riding them slowly as he watches. You’re biting onto your lip, holding back sounds as much as possible because technically you both were still in a public area, as silent as it was.
He kisses you, swallowing every single one of your sounds. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime, hyperaware of every action. You feel him slide another finger in, curling them against you barely grazing your g-spot. You bite down against his lip, offering a poor apology as he hisses, your orgasm approaching rapidly.
Jeno doesn’t reply, instead he uses his mouth to trail against your neck making sure to leave bruises around the sensitive skin. You’ve given up on holding back any sounds, your moans building up just as your climax is, and right as you’re about to finish Jeno bites down on your skin. You cry out loud, the pain and pleasure meshing into one, a tear sliding down your cheek.
He pulls his fingers out, a whine falling from your mouth from the loss. “Color?” He asks, his pupils dilated as you look at him.
“Green.”
“Good, I knew you could take it.” He slides the waistband of his sweatpants down, pumping his cock twice.
“You didn't wear anything under?”
He shakes his head, “Had to hold myself back from fucking you the second you started grinding against me.”
You laugh, “You should’ve just done it.”
“Stay quiet and I will.”
“Okay,” You take the challenge, sliding your panties down your thighs and hovering over his dick. You don't give him any time, sinking down on him in one full go. You bite down on your lip to keep yourself from groaning. He’s breathing heavily holding back his own sounds. “That goes for you too.”
His arms come up to guide you, helping lift until it’s only the tip before sinking down again. Nothing but heavy gasps of air and low curses slipping from you both. There was nothing like a fun challenge, trying your hardest to hold back your moans while simultaneously trying to get the other to slip up.
As he continues to pound into you, you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, the slight sting of the mascara in your eyes from your earlier tears. You made a note to buy yourself a sex proof one soon. Jeno’s trying his hardest to stay composed, but you can tell how good he feels with the way his fingers dig into your skin.
“Fuck.” He gives in, lifting you fully on his own and setting a harsher pace. You can feel him hit directly against you. You gasp, using your hand to cover your mouth and try to keep silent. It’s no use, from the angle you feel him even deeper, moans coming out of you as the pressure in your stomach signals your release.
“Neno– mmh. fuck—“
You shout, louder than you meant to, your legs aching with how much they were being put to use. You swear you notice a twinge of mischief in his eyes. The next second he’s bringing the same hand that was just inside you to your mouth. “Open.”
You do, still managing to taste yourself as he swirls his fingers around your tongue. He pulls them away, a string of saliva breaking away as he uses his thumb to tilt your head down. He traces your bottom lip, slightly bringing you closer. Then when you think he’s going to kiss you senseless again, he spits into your mouth.
“I told you princess, keep it down.” He whispers, thrusting into you with no remorse. You can feel yourself about to come undone.
“Neno I’m gonna—“
“I know baby, me too.” You can hear it in his rough voice. “Cum with me.”
With one last thrust you’re orgasm hits you, fast and heavy. He curses, filling you up with his seed. You whine, it’s the first you’d ever let a man finish inside you and damn had you been missing out. Any attempt of speaking is cut short, you’re brain is too fucked out to process anything. Instead you fall forward, curling into his neck that’s damp with sweat that is a little gross but mostly comforting.
“You smell familiar.”
He laughs, his hand scratching your scalp, you hum. “It’s your shampoo.”
“I fucking knew it.” You pout, not daring to move from his hold. The two of you stay that way. Curled up against one another in complete silence. You’re fighting your sleep, you had been the second he started scratching you. His low breathing isn’t helping either.
“We can’t stay like this forever,” His whispers, yet makes no choice to move. And even though you knew what he meant, your mind couldn’t help but picture different scenarios.
Was that what he would tell his other hookups?
Did he warn them before they became too attached?
You shove the idea down, refusing to think it over. He was oblivious to your sudden concerns with your face hidden away from him. You suck in a breath, the light lavender scent of your shampoo hitting your nose with an underlying musk from Jeno himself. You should say something. It wasn’t abnormal to be curious about his past arrangements. You open your mouth, closing it just as quickly.
“I know.” You say instead and you swear you can hear his heart pound a bit faster when you do, but just as you shoved down your own thoughts earlier, you do the same now.
☆ 🎸☆
For a long time there was nothing Jeno loved more than performing on stage.
He was destined to make music. He knew it from a young age. Cemented by his aunt who had gifted him a drum set as a kid. His mom had only further encouraged him, he was the one to take on her love for music, even if it was through a different instrument or way of expressing.
During every stage his heart was pounding with adrenaline, never becoming exhausted and instead waiting for his next cue. It fueled him, every slam of his drumsticks, the vibration felt throughout his entire body, and of course as he grew older he only became more confident in his abilities. He felt it every time he was on stage, a smile growing on his face as each song came.
The growing fan base wasn’t something he ever prioritized. He didn’t make music to become famous and make money, hell he was the son of some of the most known and respected people in their fields. You would make jokes about his nepotism, and maybe if the guys had any clue who he was before he joined then that would’ve been the case, but none of it mattered anyway.
Now suddenly, he wanted to show them the best of him. That meant being himself at his core, and what better way was there to show that side of him than drumming?
Oblivion were finishing up their last song, the sound of the fans screaming crescendoed as Donghyuck’s low nasally voice rang out the final verse. Jeno’s heart was going one hundred miles a minute, pure ecstasy flowing through his body. Then within a half second, he blinked and suddenly his smile had nothing to do with the crowd and the energy they had been radiating all night that directly translated into his performance. No, this time he pictured you, in all of your glory.
The song came to an end. The crowd made sure to be the loudest they were the whole night, one particular high pitched squeal pulling him from his own thoughts. He rolled his eyes at Jaemin who was winking at a fan that resulted in another scream. He dragged him off of the stage, following the rest of the group as they walked back to their shared waiting room.
“Great show out there,” Darling cheered, specifically running into Jisung’s arms to give him a quick peck. The action made Jeno slightly envious in a way he’d never felt before by the couple’s frequent pda. “I swear there were way more people in attendance than any other show!”
“Thanks Darling,” Jaemin smiles. “You might just be our good luck charm.”
Jisung visibly deflates at the usage of his nickname for his girlfriend, pulling at her waist to keep her close like Jaemin would snatch her at any second. Jaemin was only messing around, he’d confessed to Jeno a few months ago that he loved how Jisung’s face scrunched up when he was annoyed, so he made it a mission to piss him off as much as possible.
“Yeah Jisung is more focused than ever,” Donghyuck smirks, “unless we count the time he was busy getting his dick sucked before we had to go up on stage.”
“That’s not what happened!” The couple shout in unison, matching shades of red in their face. Jeno was sure the group would never let them live that down.
Mark laughs. “Well we should be staying here for one night only, remember not to end up so drunk that you sleep through hotel maintenance pounding on your door so hard they assume you died.”
“It happened one time.” Donghyuck groans.
“And it won’t happen again, you and Jaemin are sharing a room tonight.”
“What? Hello, way to be a cockblock, Mark. I was planning on going out tonight.” The implication that he was bringing someone back to the hotel was clear.
“Not my problem,” Mark sighs out before turning to Jeno. “You’re staying a few days longer, right?”
“Yeah, I'm gonna spend the weekend with my parents.”
“Nice, have fun.”
“Then what about you, Mark? You just got a room to yourself?” Donghyuck pouts.
“Yep,” Mark answers honestly, "gives me time away from you guys.”
Darling laughs, "Don't worry, the nahyuck fans will love it.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Aww,” Jaemin coos, his arm wrapping around Donghyuck’s shoulder, “We have our own ship name!”
Donghyuck looks like the revelation is causing him physical distress. Jeno takes that as a cue to leave before the two start fighting because once they started it was hard to stop them.
“Youre not going out with us at least?” Jisung asks, his fingers intertwined with his girlfriend's, a soft smile on his face that Jeno never saw from him until the two of them reconnected. He was happy for his friend, he always did wish the best for them all, and for people like Jisung and even Jaemin, he knew as much as they contradicted it with their past or current actions. They wanted love most of all. So seeing Jisung as he was now, so open and honest with his feelings was relieving for the most part. Though on one hand it did open a can of worms he was actively avoiding paying any mind to.
He could tell the guys were growing a bit curious. He wasn’t spending much time at the apartment, opting to spend the night at yours instead. A privilege you weren’t aware of that none of his past hookups ever got. Once again, a can of worms he really didn’t want to open.
“Nah not tonight.”
Jisung raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask anything. With that, Jeno’s saying a quick goodbye, making his way out of the door as Donghyuck and Jaemin start one of their petty arguments.
Jeno had to give his parents credit, as much as his parents were busy, they always made sure to provide their children with only the best of the best. That included hiring Miss Kim, their personal chef, to make the best meals for their children.
He sat at the kitchen table, plates of breakfast being served as his Mom read the morning newspaper, his father sitting next to her and feeding her some of the washed grapes that Miss Kim had brought earlier. Jeno felt a twinge in his chest at the sight, covering it up with a quick cough as if anyone around would notice it.
“Is Seulgi here yet?”
His mom sets the paper down, “She’s late, overslept after a late engagement party her friend, what's her name?”
“Joy.” His father answers, feeding her another grape.
“Right. I think She's set to be one of her bridesmaids.”
Jeno nods. Miss Kim is setting his plate down in front of him, he mouths a thank you receiving a quick smile and bow before Miss Kim heads back to the kitchen.
“Speaking of which,” Mrs Lee sits up, eyeing Jeno with a mischievous expression as he digs his spoon into the side bowl of rice. “You aren’t coming alone, right?”
Jeno smiles smug, “Are you implying I bring back Jaemin?”
Jeno had invited Jaemin to a family gathering of his about two years ago. His mother was not immune to his charms, taking a liking to his carefree and confident way of speaking. She was adamant on setting him up with Seulgi until she had came out. And even though both parents were very supportive, Jeno had a feeling that his mother hadn’t yet given up on her dream of having Jaemin as a son in law. Though her target had shifted to Jeno.
“No actually, though im not opposed to inviting him. I’ve already told your cousin all about him.” That explained the consistent texts from her. “I just think it would be nice if you brought someone back home with you. Show her around a bit. How about that friend of yours you mentioned? Y/N is it?”
He almost spat out his food, choking it down instead to which his father passed him his handkerchief. He grabbed onto it, coughing until they finally died down.
“I’m not too sure ive mentioned her before,” He finally answers.
“Oh if not you then, perhaps Seulgi?”
Jeno has to hold back from groaning. There was a time where he and his sister went out for drinks, she had introduced herself to you and the night ended with you and her exchanging numbers. Clearly he wasnt aware that you both had stayed in contact since then, he’d definitely be asking you about that soon. “Yes, perhaps.”
“She told us about her, mentioned shes a very sweet girl.” His mom’s smile widens. “I’d like to meet her.”
He hums, praying for any possible distraction to appear. The sounds of rushed footsteps approaching from none other than Seulgi herself. “Sorry I’m late!” She says, taking a seat next to Jeno. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Jeno says at the same time his mother says, “Did you invite Jeno’s friend to your wedding?”
Seulgi pauses for a moment, “Jaemin?”
“Y/N.”
“Ah,” Seulgi smiles a thank you at Miss Kim who brought her a serving, “I assumed he was going to bring her on his own.”
“Never just assume with a man,” Mrs Lee sighs. “Jeno, I hope you can consider it.”
It’s not that Jeno refused to consider inviting you. It’s just that, his mom could be kind of stubborn. If you were to come by and she grew to like you then she’d automatically assume that you and him were meant to be together. And Jeno had a feeling she would like you, there was nobody in the world who wouldn’t.
The last thing Jeno wanted was to make you uncomfortable by introducing you to his family, meeting Seulgi was enough, and you end up running away scared. On the other hand, you were someone important to him, so what was the difference of introducing you to his family when he’s introduced Jaemin before.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” Jeno says finally. His mom, grinning happily, is about to reply when he continues. “But I'm not going to force her. If she doesn’t want to, then she doesn’t have to.”
“Well of course not,” Seulgi punches his shoulder lightly, “We’re not expecting you to kidnap her. Although considering the book drafts she’s shown me, I don’t think she’d mind it.” She jokes. Jeno’s eyes widen, and a part of him is scared that his parents might have heard, but when he turns to see them both in their own world he knows they didn’t.
Then again, there’s that familiar sting of envy. Only this time he can’t blame it on the overdone PDA from Jisung and Darling, now it’s from his own parents. His parents wore their hearts on their sleeve constantly, and never hid their love from anyone. He’d grown used to it years ago, so what changed now?
Something must be severely wrong with me.
☆ 📚 ☆
Things are the worst they could ever be. Okay that was dramatic but it was what you felt like in the moment. For starters you had a suspicious feeling you were growing sick, you sneezed way more than the average amount of times a person sneezes today. Then second of all, you were drawing blanks both literally and physically.
You had been sitting in front of your laptop for what felt like hours, and absolutely nothing would pop up. There was also another issue, one you didn’t want to speak aloud to anyone other than the incognito mode on your safari search. You felt pent up. Something that you didn’t even know could happen with two days of abstinence, but unfortunately it could.
It was like you were going crazy, you’d lasted years without sex so why did two days suddenly feel like eternity. Your head missed Jeno a lot, but your body did so much more. Especially late at night, like right now that you were in the darkness of your room with only the bedside lamp to illuminate the space around you. You tried to get off, maybe that could help with your writer's block in some weird kinky way. It was no use.
Not even scrolling Twitter videos could save you. You tried to sleep it off, perhaps a break would help. But the longer you laid down in complete darkness the more insatiable you became.
And then there was the bright idea. Jeno was a night owl, perhaps he was awake right now? You blushed in the dark room, there was no way you were even considering sexting him while he was spending quality family time. No you couldn’t stoop so low.
You flopped onto your right side, squeezing your eyes shut to clear your mind. Only instead your mind began playing tricks on you, images of Jeno’s body flashing through your mind like they were stored in a hard drive from your brain. You visualized the curve of his muscles, the definition and ridges of his back muscles that you hooked your nails into when he drilled into you so—
Oh gosh. You were seriously thinking about Jeno like that right now. This couldn’t be right, right? Your body seemed to think differently, with the way you felt your panties begin to dampen from your arousal.
You took a deep breath, snatching your phone from the charging cable on your desk and opening your message tab with Jeno.
Princess: Are you awake?
His typing pops up faster than you’d expected. You were hoping that he wouldn’t reply, then you could call it a night and pretend this never happened.
Neno: Yeah. Can’t sleep?
Princess: Not really…
You’re about to chicken out, your finger hovers over the do not disturb button when your familiar ringtone, one of Oblivion's earliest songs, blasts out of your phone. You jump, sliding the answer button.
“Hello?” Your voice comes out way more weak than you intended, and mentally you’re beating yourself up about it.
“Hey,” His voice hits you like a truck. The deep timbre sliding down your spine in a way that makes your body react on its own, goosebumps raising on your skin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I–“ Just miss you. It’s funny how now the tables have turned. “Can’t sleep.”
He hums, and you can hear him shifting on the other side, perhaps trying to get comfortable. “Do you want to talk?”
You wanted more than talking but maybe that was being too greedy. “Yeah, tell me about how the show went.”
He pauses for a second, “Went great, fans seemed to enjoy it a lot. Spent the rest of the day with my family.”
“Oh,” You forgot that he mentioned a breakfast date with his family. Your family was far too busy for those kinds of gatherings so it was a bit surprising but sweet. “How was that?”
“Not bad, it was nice seeing them with how long it’s been.”
“Can you tell me more?”
He chuckles, “Like what?”
“Anything. What about that game you play, how's that going?”
There’s another pause, and for a moment you feel like you’ve been caught. “Princess.”
The nickname goes straight to your core, your thighs pushing together on instinct. “Yeah?” You reply, voice weaker than you meant it to come out.
“Why are you awake right now?”
“I- I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Right,” He pauses again, and you missed the way his voice deepened. “How can I help you with that baby?”
You suck in a breath, a curse slipping from your lips. You swear you can hear him smile through the phone. “Come on, tell me what you need.”
“I need you.”
You can hear him move around again, your chest tightening with how honest you were. You meant it in more ways than one, but there was no time to dwell on it now.
“Why don’t you let me hear how true that is?”
“Like right now?” You squeak out, suddenly embarrassed.
He chuckles, “Or is that not why you called me?”
“I don’t know what you mean—“ “Princess. Never in a million years have you asked me about my games.”
“What if I wanted to change that?”
“You’re stalling.” He states, “If you’re shy you don’t have to be, your voice alone made me crazy the second you picked up.”
His honesty scares you a bit, but it also gives you room to relax. “Do I have that effect on you?”
“More than one.” You take a shallow breath, and he definitely notices it. “Are you gonna be a good girl and spread your legs for me?”
There’d be no way for him to know if you were really following his instructions, but with how needy you were you made sure to do it anyway. Sliding your fingers past your bellybutton and tracing the light fabric.
“Tell me, just how wet are you for me?”
“Fuck–“ You clench around nothing. “Since earlier. I couldn’t sleep without thinking of you.”
“Is that why you texted? Were you just waiting for me to call you to use my voice and get yourself off?”
“N-no I didn’t know you’d call.”
He hums mockingly, “Really? Then what were you going to do? Give up and wait for me to get back home to fuck you? His words were harsh. For some reason it was working for you, a wave of want rushing through your veins. “Or maybe, you were going to go out and find someone else to do the job?
“No Neno I wouldn’t,” You plead, “I only want you.”
“Fuck,” He whispers Beasley audible through how fast your heart was beating. “Then use my voice, and I’ll make sure to fuck you good tomorrow as an apology.”
You take that as a promise, your hand slipping down into your panties, fingers gliding across the folds of your wet cunt. You gasp, “Fuck Neno I’m so wet.”
“Yeah baby?” He grunts, and the familiar sound only drives you crazier. “Go ahead, slide a finger in.”
You do as he commands, your pussy squeezing around the digit. Only there’s no relief, you were used to Jeno’s long thick fingers, yours were nothing in comparison. “It's not enough.” You cry, desperately wishing he was there.
“Shh,” he coos you. “It’s okay baby, come on just imagine it’s me.”
You slid another finger in, it wasn't long enough, but it would have to do for now. You rocked your hips, slowly fucking yourself with your fingers, your panties pushed to the side as the wet squelches filled the room.
“Fuck I can picture how tight you are,” he groans through the phone and youre barely registering now just how quiet he’s trying to make his own voice. “Youre taking my fingers so well huh?”
“Fuck Neno please.” You whine, scissoring yourself to fit another finger in.
For a moment all that can be heard is the heavy breathing through the phone. The two of you are trying to keep as quiet as possible. You register it then, the wet slide of him on the other side. You’re not sure how you missed it. He was jacking himself off as you got off to his voice.
“Neno.” You call out his name.
“Yes, princess?” He stutters through the line.
“I’m ready for you now.”
He laughs at being caught. “Yeah? You gonna be able to take it?”
You nod like he could see you, “just please fuck me already.”
“Alright then,” he plays along. “Spread your legs for me more baby.”
Your eyes are shut, visualizing him over you, his hand gripping your leg harsh to keep them from shutting. You slide a third finger into your cunt, it wasn't close to his girth but it would have to do at the moment. You clenched around them, imagining your fingers were his cock instead, filling you up so good. “Neno–ngh fuck youre so big.”
“You can fit me baby, you know why?” His voice is low. “cause that pretty pussy of yours was made for me.”
You moan, setting a strict pace to match his own through the phone. The light sounds of his breathing getting heavier with every thrust of his hand. You could imagine him now, he’d probably be biting his lips to hold back his noises, trying to keep quiet from his family who were only a few rooms over. Your stomach tightens, your release approaching quicker than it would when it was just you to get yourself off.
“I’m close.”
“Me too,” He replies. “You gonna let me cum inside you again? Fill up your needy cunt?”
“Fuck yes Neno—” You scream out, your orgasm washing over you in the next second. Your fingers are cramping up, continuously thrusting inside you to help milk out your orgasm.
He grunts a bit louder, calling out your name from what you can assume is from him reaching his own climax. You keep your phone close to you, your breaths evening out. Your legs felt like jelly, the energy you’d had before dissipating. The tiredness from the time being four in the morning finally hitting you.
“Baby?” Jeno called out. You hummed low, using what was left of your energy to do so. He chuckles through the line, having realized that you were seconds away from knocking out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”
You don’t even remember if you answered or not, only that the call ended. Your breaths fall into an even rhythm as you drift off to sleep.
Part three:
Do I wanna know?
☆ 🎸☆
Call Jeno what he was. A simp, a manwhore, a little bitch. That one was specifically from an angry Donghyuck whom he had declined going out with for the fifth time in a row to see you today. He’d gotten back from his parents house, and assuming how early he woke up to drive back into town he wasn’t surprised you were still sleeping. You had a habit of a minimum of twelve hours a night and he’d taken up most of those last night at four in the morning.
He blushed slightly at the memory. You hadn’t answered, which would’ve worried anyone in his situation if he didn’t know you well enough to know that you were probably busy writing like your life depended on it after gaining a surge of inspiration.
He gripped onto the plastic bag in hand. He stopped by the convenience store for some of your favorite ramen. Nothing else, truthfully, the pack of condoms had somehow made their own way into his bag. “Y/N!” He opened your front door, being sure to lock it behind him.
The apartment was unusually silent, safe for the meows coming from Meowy who greeted Jeno by rubbing against his feet. He cooed at the cat before making his way over to your kitchen to set the bag on the counter. “I brought you some noodles! Oh and they had a discount on the condoms so I thought why not!”
You didn’t answer. He frowned, looking out at the front door he’d just come from to spot your shoes in their place. You were home, so were you just sleeping in?
He walked over to your bedroom, knocking a few times. A low groan sounding through the door followed by a “Come in.”
He opened the door, the darkness of the room enveloping you as you laid in bed, Your body curled in itself like you’d exhausted all energy for the rest of the year. He frowned, approaching you with soft footsteps. Your eyes met his with a squint.
“Princess?” He called your name, to which he immediately regretted the second your lips started wobbling.
“Neno I’m sorry,” your eyes began to water.
He panics, sitting on the corner of the bed to get closer to you. “Hey, what's wrong?” He feels a slight panic from seeing you like this, it’s not the first time he’d seen you cry but it wasn’t a sight he’d see often.
“I didn’t want to text anyone and I know I said I wanted you bit then I woke up and it was like a crime scene everywhere and I spent the whole morning washing the sheets but then my washer broke so I hand cleaned it all and these cramps are seriously going to kill me—“
“Hey it’s okay,” Jeno cuts you off, his thumb wiping the tear threatening to fall from your eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” You reply bashfully, “Ugh I’m so annoying I always get so sad on my period. It’s gross.”
“It’s not gross.” He replies in an instant.
“Youre right it’s just human nature or whatever,” you sigh, wiping at your own eyes and sitting up. He reaches forward, his warm hand wrapping around your waist to stop you. “Hey it’s okay, I can go. Just get some rest.”
You pouted, “But I don’t want you to go.”
He smiled, “Okay, I won’t.”
Jeno wasn't sure how much time had passed like this. Just that as soon as you could you had cuddled into him. Something about his natural body warmth being the perfect temperature to help your cramps, so he held onto you, your breaths eventually evening out into sleep.
He didn’t even bother to grab his phone, instead just staring at you like some creep. He was grateful no one else was there to call him out on it though. After a few minutes, you shifted. Your head peaked up from where it laid flat on his chest.
“Sorry did I trap you?” You mumbled the question, sleep still evident in your voice.
“No, it was pretty comfortable actually. You're like a sloth kind of.”
You rolled your eyes, laying your head down again. “You look like one.”
“Rude, and after I canceled plans with Donghyuck to come see you.” Jeno was only joking, he would’ve declined plans with Donghyuck even if he didn’t come to see you.
“Sorry again,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
He scoffs playfully, “Hey I’m your friend before anything else.” He’s not sure why it felt so icky to say it but he continues, “I don’t need sex just to want to see you.”
You blush at his words, hiding your face deeper into his chest. “Yeah well, you're the first guy I’ve ever met like that.”
Jeno wasn't sure of most of your dating history, he wasn't the type to just ask but now he couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “Have you dated men like that?”
“Not dated, I’m not one for a relationship.” He knew that. The two of you had related plenty, but now he was itching to know more about you.
“Is there a reason?”
“No, not particularly at least.” You stir, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling filled with the tiniest glow in the dark stars that had been there for years. “I mean for some time I did want that, but then I lost my virginity and I guess I realized that love isn’t something that happens in real life.”
There’s not a single ounce of pain in your voice. “I held it off for the longest time, save for love kind of thing. Then in college I ended up sleeping with a crush and really it didn't live up to any expectations. The guy hardly even acknowledged me at all except for my body.”
Jeno scowled, the stupidity of men would be their demise. He could understand why women wanted nothing to do with them, there were plenty of fish in the sea sure, but just how many were the parasitic kind that drained the life out of women.
“It was alright I guess, led me to now. And congrats, you're the only man to actually care enough to make sure I finish.” You joke, though there’s an underlying embarrassment in your voice. One that he catches quickly.
“Do you regret it?” He asks. No malice in his words, just pure curiosity.
You shrug, “I guess I regret that it wasn’t like the books I write. There was no attentiveness, just impulsivity. If I could’ve then I would’ve wanted my first time to be with someone I could fully trust, someone who would treat me carefully knowing it was my first.”
He nods, though you don’t notice it at all. There’s too many things running through his head. You deserved better, even now you deserved the best. He wanted for you to fall in love just like the stories you wrote. The uneasy heartbeats, the anxiousness of not knowing if your feelings were reciprocated, then eventually the love confession that brought on a happy ending.
You deserved it more than anyone in the world.
“But it’s already passed so it’s nothing to dwell on,” You say, sitting up. “Now how about the ramen you brought?”
Jeno knows better than to argue, offering a smile instead.
“Coming right up.”
☆ 📚 ☆
The rest of your week had gone about as well as it could while you were on your period. You of course had to show up to work, despite the cramps and lower back aches, keeping a smile on throughout your shift while experiencing some of the worst discomfort ever.
The only way you survived was because of the pain killers Yuqi had given you and the take out from the restaurant down the street. Jeno hadn’t stopped by as often as you hoped. He told you that Mark was becoming more strict with practice as the group went viral for the third time in the month. You had seen a couple of videos, more recently one that was a q&a with Jeno. You had already known every answer of his, so anyone who considered themselves Jeno fans could suck it.
Speaking of which, he had also told you to hurry home tonight, which you figured was because he finally had time to visit. Your spirits were lifted now, you only hoped it wasn't so obvious as you left work to head straight home.
You squeaked open the door, expecting Meowy to meet you the way she always did with everyone who’d set foot into the apartment. Instead, you were met with a floor full of rose petals, candles (not real ones of course that was a fire hazard), lining up the hallway into your kitchen that was fully decorated with more roses and dinner plates. Your heart skipped a beat, the thought of an intruder stopping by and setting up all of this as a passing thought until you met eyes with Jeno.
He stood wearing a black buttoned up top tucked into the jeans he had on. It was casual enough that you didn’t feel underdressed, having come home straight from work in jeans and a basic tank top you’d put under your work uniform.
“Hey.” He beamed, the same puppy-like way that you were used to but somehow now made your heart feel like it could burst any second.
You freeze for a moment. “What is all of this?”
“Dinner. Oh don’t worry, this is a recipe my family cook taught me how to make so it should be edible.” He jokes, grabbing onto your hand to lead you to your seat. You sit down, overwhelmed by the burst of emotions flowing through your chest, he sits ahead of you.
“Japchae?” He nods. “I would’ve cooked up something like steak but I thought maybe this was a safe bet.”
You pause for a moment, only this time he must notice the shift in your demeanor. “Are you okay?” He asks, a slight tone of fear in his voice, he must’ve thought you were upset.
“I’m just I don’t understand,” You say finally. “Why all of this for me?”
He doesn’t take a single second to think about it, “Because you deserve it.”
“But I'm not- I've never even had a date treat me like this,” You stammer.
He chuckles a response. “Y/N, because I wanted to. How’s that for a reason?”
You still don’t understand it fully. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, the previous being your mother who gifted you a custom typewriter for your sixth birthday, only this made zero sense. It wasn’t even your birthday.
There must be a hint of hesitance he picks up on, because in a second his hand is over yours in a comforting gesture. “If it helps, think of this as part of our rules. I’m trying to give you inspiration.”
Right, of course. That made perfect sense, why else would Jeno have gone all of his way to set up such a nice dinner like this. You offer a small smile, nodding as you reach for your chopsticks. “Okay, then let’s not let this go to waste.”
Jeno smiles, relieved.
Dinner went well as soon as the alcohol was brought out. One glass was enough to make your nerves disappear , the conversation between you stirring from small gossip he’d learned from Jaemin’s loud mouth to early memories the two of you remember from the first years of your friendships.
The japchae was more than just great you came to find out. Jeno could seriously have become a world class chef if he didn’t stick to his career now, speaking of which had only become way more demanding than ever. But he was happy, and you were even happier than he was. The man was a once in the lifetime talent, he deserved all of the love and recognition in the world.
“Neno,” you said suddenly. “It’s getting pretty late.”
He hums, “Yeah I’ll clean up and I can g—“
“No!” You scream shutting him up. “Stay. Please.”
He laughs, “Okay princess.”
“I’ll be back, just–” You’re suddenly shy, avoiding any eye contact with him. “I’m going to go clean up a bit, maybe after we can cuddle or something.” You hope he doesn’t make you explain more and just gets the memo. Luckily, he grins knowingly. “I’ll be back!” You shout as you run towards the bathroom.
You were never the shy type, but as you step outside of the shower, you feel an overwhelming amount of anxiousness. You slipped into a loose fitting shirt. One Jeno had left behind. He was lying down in your bed, scrolling on his phone until you entered. Jeno’s eyes turn to you, discarding whatever he’d been watching on his phone and sitting up straight on the edge of your bed.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he states with an expression that you could only describe as want, though it didn’t feel fitting enough.
“I hope that’s okay,” you answer, approaching him until you’re right where he sits. His hand comes up, brushing your cheek. You shiver despite his hand being warm and inviting.
“You’re breathtaking.”
You blush at the compliment, pulling his hand away from your face to move it to your hips, climbing on top of him swiftly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me—“
“Not for that, for everything else.”
“I meant it when I said you deserve it.”
You lean in, his breath catching as your lips connect to his. There’s a subtle desperation in the way he kisses back, where most of your kisses were fervent, this one was full of something more. No fight for dominance but rather a way of expressing your gratitude.
Jeno tugs at his shirt, lifting it off of your body. “Can I?” He asks, earning a nod from you before he’s flipping you onto the mattress. You’re laid completely bare, at least figuratively with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s undressing you with his eyes alone.
You have barely a second to catch your breath, Jeno’s lips trailing over your breasts as he unclasps your bra. You shudder, your chest laid naked as the cool air hits you.
“Fuck– Neno.” You moan as he takes your left breast into his mouth, his tongue flat over the sensitive nub. His hand comes up, palming your right breast, his thumb circling against your nipple.
You’re only growing needier with every second, every lick sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away, and you take the opportunity to pull him in for another kiss, this one heavier than the last. You button his shirt while he’s distracted, pulling it down and discarding it to the floor.
Jeno’s breathless as he pulls away, his eyes full of want. “Can I taste you?”
You nod, and he’s kissing you again. His hand moving to slide your panties off. He reacts in an instant, leaving kisses down your stomach until he’s face to face with your needy cunt.
His breath fanning over your folds, driving you insane with every second he spends refusing to take action. “Please,” you whine. He snaps out of whatever haze he’d been in, his tongue tracing against your folds that leaves you panting.
Your legs fight to close, his hand keeping them stretched open enough for him to continue lapping at your juices in peace. You call his name, moans growing louder as he presses closer against you, his nose pressing against your clit.
Your hands are moving before you can stop them, reaching out to tug on his hair. He moans into your pussy, the sound traveling through you evoking you to moan.
You cry out, twitching around his tongue as he begins to fuck you with the muscle. Your juices mixed with his spit sliding down his chin in a beautiful mess.
His name trails off of your lips like a melody. The sound meshing with the loud squelches of him devouring you. He pulls away, substituting his tongue for his digits.
“Oh my– nghh Neno—“ You can feel tears threatening to spill. The pace of his fingers fucking you rough as he sucks your clit. He continues to fuck his fingers into you, curling them to hit your pleasure point directly. Your legs squeezing around his head as you cum with one last cry of his name.
He laps up your fluids, his nose pressing against your sensitive clit with how messy he is. “Jeno baby, please,” you beg, the overstimulation getting to you. He doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to lick against your folds until you're dragging him to look at you.
His hair is a mess with how much your hands tugged at the strands. He meets your gaze, his lips and chin wet with you, pupils completely dilated. “I’m sorry baby.”
You shake your head, tugging at him to come back up. When he does you’re kissing him, sucking on his tongue to taste more of yourself. He groans into your mouth, pulling away to let out a gasp. “Fuck.”
Your brows furrow, meeting his eyes where he looks down at himself, a small wet patch visible through his pants. He just came untouched from eating you out. A burst of pride shoots through you, drawing you to kiss at him again.
“You’re so fucking hot, can I please take these off of you?” You ask, batting your lashes.
“When you ask like that, who am I to say no?”
You smile, unbuckling his pants and rushing to rip them off of him like the fabric was life threatening. Your hand palms against him, his size growing with the slightest touch of yours.
He’s holding back a groan when you start sucking at his neck, leaving hickeys on display for everyone to see. For everyone to know that he’s yours.
He helps you take off his boxers, another piece of fabric meeting your floor. He's fully erect, the thick muscle hitting against his abdomen with a slap. Your mouth waters at the sight, taking in his size with your eyes and zeroing in on the thick vein that runs along the shaft.
You suck in a breath, envisioning how nice it would be to feel him inside your mouth, his hand forcing your head down until your gagging as he fucks your face. That would have to do another time, for now, you wanted nothing more but to feel him in your guts.
“You like what you see?”
“Corny.” You answer, earning a chuckle from him before he’s pecking your lips again.
“You love me.”
He says it so casually, yet it still makes you feel weak in the knees. “And other things.”
Jeno lines up to your entrance, knocking your breath out of you as he sinks into you. The squeeze is tight, but it’s not unbearable. He’s giving you a few seconds to adjust until you nod at him to continue.
The first thrust is enough to pull a loud moan from your lips, your hands coming around his back to steady yourself. It’s obscene, his hips slapping against your thighs as he drills into you over and over again.
You can already feel pressure start to build up again, your nails digging into his skin drawing a curse from his lips.
“It feels that good, baby?”
“Neno– please please don’t stop—“
“I won't princess.” He says before fucking into you faster, this time his lips swallowing your moans as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Your body feels light, consumed by the feeling of him. You’re crying, you can taste the saltiness of your tears as he kisses you through it.
He must tell you’re close because his hand goes down to rub against your clit, the circular motion sending you close to the edge.
“Come on princess, let go for me baby.”
With those final words you’re clamping down around him, your orgasm flooding down your thighs only producing a wetter sound as he continues to pistol into you. His thrusts grow sloppier until he’s finally reached his own climax. His cum spurting into you, filling you up.
Your words are barely coherent, voice wrecked with all of the screaming you did. You’d have to bake a few apology cookies and offer them to your unlucky neighbors. Jeno kisses around your face, cooing you until your tears stop, his final kiss being one to your lips.
You open your eyes, his own meeting you with what you could only assume was fear, but quickly disappearing just as it happened shifting to one of… you couldn’t tell.
The previous you who had felt bare had nothing on you now. Because even as Jeno pulled out, his cum dripping down into the sheets, you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach.
Something had changed.
Part Four:
Heart-shaped box
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in a funk. Ever since the date he set up he felt insane. Something was different, he knew it deep down. It wasn’t an obvious fact, you had continued to text him like normal, even sending him dress options for the wedding he had sprung onto you so late.
You didn’t mind, casually sending him your finds from shopping trips you went on with Shuhua. He took in a sharp breath every time you sent him a picture, his lungs felt like they would collapse at any moment with how great you looked. Though it was mostly you, even showing up to the wedding with your hand around his arm would provoke that reaction from him.
He imagined it now, you being so close to him as he introduces you to his family. A smile on your face and a light blush because as much as you were a confident speaker you would probably still feel nervous to meet his parents at such an important event.
Jeno got that same weird feeling in his stomach, covering his face so the rest of the guys wouldn’t see.
“Yo are you good” Mark asks, “Your face is all red, you're not sick or anything right?”
“He could be because you can’t help but keep the fucking air conditioner on all through out the night!” Donghyuck argues. Mark rolls his eyes.
“Jeno isn’t sick,” Jaemin moves the back of his hand to check Jeno’s temperature. “Yup not sick.”
“I’m fine guys, really.”
“I don’t think so, you’ve been spacing out a bit lately.” Donghyuck sing songs, “kind of like when Jisung was heartbroken and slumping around like a kicked puppy.”
“I don’t think I was that bad,” jisung replies, earning a “you were” from everyone else.
“Seriously I’m just thinking a lot lately.”
“Wait like really?” That seems to get the group's attention, they get closer, gathering around him like a kettle of vultures.
“You say that like I’m an idiot.”
“An idiot no—“ “debatable.” Donghyuck starts, earning a scowl from Jeno to which he hides behind Mark. “You aren’t one to think about things too much, you're level headed like that.” Jaemin finishes his thought.
“Yeah hyung, so no offense but it’s a once in a lifetime experience to see you act so–“ Jisung contemplates, “so lost.”
Jeno wasn't sure when any of them had caught onto any of that but apparently they did. He really wasn't the type to open up, but there was a time for anything. “Okay yeah, I guess it’s just a lot of changes lately.”
“Go on.”
And so he did. Jeno went on to explain every detail of yours and his arrangement, well the ones that mattered, up until now. The date, the sex, the way he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in a Train going down a different path than he ever expected yet he wasn't even mad about it.
“Oh my gosh,” Jaemin squeals. “I knew you were both meant to be!”
“Great going Jeno, I owe him five dollars now I hope you're happy."
“What?” Jeno asks.
“Jaemin did always say he had a gut feeling that you and Y/N would end up together,” Mark agreed. “That bet lasted shorter than expected though.”
“I think you’re confused,” Jeno starts. “It’s not like that. Me and Y/N are just friends with benefits.”
“Right and the benefits include date nights, home cooked meals, and life altering sex after?” Donghyuck taunts. Jisung makes a look of disgust at the last part.
“As much as I don’t think the last part was necessary,” Donghyuck shrugs. “I do agree. That's not at all what friends with benefits do.”
Jeno isn’t sure what to say. Was he at fault for this sudden shift? It felt like he was, but then again you didn’t seem to act like anything was wrong either. Maybe the guys were being dramatic. Jaemin looks at him like he knows what Jeno is trying to do.
“Answer this one thing,” Jaemin starts. “Do you feel your heart beat a little faster around her?”
Jeno nods.
“And when you think about her. What about then?”
Jeno felt the blood creep up his neck. How the hell would Jaemin be able to tell that.
“Think about it Jeno, it shouldn’t be that hard.”
Jeno frowns. Could he be… no. There’s no way. But then he thinks back to you, your contagious laughs and smiles.
Oh.
“What does this mean now?”
“Well you’ve already got the grand gestures down, loverboy.”
“This time, just add the confession.” Jisung adds.
☆ 📚 ☆
Time had gone by quicker than you’d thought. The continuous dress shopping leading up to this exact moment. You had packed up well, joining Jeno in road-tripping to Jeju island. It consisted mainly of sleeping, singing along to music completely off key, and feeding Jeno snacks while he drove.
You hadn’t felt the subtle shift in the area around each other, not when every time you looked away he made sure to keep his eyes on you until he couldn’t.
The wedding was in the afternoon. A ceremony that would end with a sunset. This made for really good inspiration for the third part in your book series, so you made sure to make a mental note of it.
You changed into your dress, hidden in one of the hotel’s rooms as Jeno got ready with the rest of his immediate family. You felt nervous, the outfit fitting way more exposed than you were used to.
“Y/N! Can I come in?”
“Uh, yes!” Seulgi walks in, a bright smile on her face as she does. “I didn’t think you’d have time to stop by and do anything.”
“Yeah well, I promised Jeno I would check in on you,” She gives you a look over, “You look beautiful.”
You blush, “No of course not, you look great.”
“I do, don’t I.” She does a bit of a twirl, the sleek yet elegant white gown hardly moving except for the flared fabric at the bottom.
You’d never imagined a life of marriage for you, but seeing Seulgi look so bright and happy made you second guess. Perhaps there could be someone to change that? Perhaps even–
“Jeno’s waiting outside. I’m going to go set myself up for pictures before the ceremony begins.” She gives you one last nod. “I’m glad you came.”
You offer a smile in return, “Thank you for inviting me.”
You had unfortunately not been able to catch Jeno before the ceremony began, sitting on the outskirts as the family sat front row to Seulgi, as did her wife’s family in the opposite direction. Jeno had made sure that even with the distance, at any opportunity he would look at you.
Goosebumps rising on your body with the way he looked into your eyes so sure. And with every vow spoken, it almost felt like he meant it to you. You had to take a breath the second it ended, being pulled by one of Jeno’s cousins who had claimed you as her new best friend. She dragged you towards the drinks, offering you a glass of champagne that you held onto.
Beyond the live orchestra that you were sure you would only live to see once in your lifetime, there was nothing but cheers for the happy couple. You were a bit too invested to have noticed Jeno sneak behind you, his hand tapping on your shoulder.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you look.” He says, staring at you with a quiet longing you didn't pick up on.
“You can tell me now,” You tease.
He chuckles, his hand hesitating for a moment before it finds its way around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips graze your ear. “Youre the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You don’t even get the chance to reply, the words falling flat on your tongue.
“What an honor it is to meet you.”
You look up to see the same woman who had stood up on stage before, Mrs. Lee. The musical genius in the flesh. Jeno, quickly moving to give the two of you space to talk, though remaining close enough.
You bow quickly, a perfect ninety degrees. “No, it's an honor to meet you. Your work is truly inspiring, I tell Jeno everyday just how lucky he is to have a mother so efficient and hardworking.”
She brightens, “Do you study music as well?”
“No ma’am, unfortunately I’m tone deaf but I appreciate it all the much more.” You reply shyly. “I’m a writer.”
“Ah,” Her smile widens, “That’s beautiful. I am quite fond of authors myself, please do tell me what you happen to write?”
“I’m only now starting, but if all things go to plan I should have my first novel released soon.” You nod, looking at Jeno who hadn’t once let go of his hold on your waist. As if sensing it, his mother turns attention to the area, smirking playfully.
“Well I do wish to own a copy once it does release, and Jeno.” She beckons her son. “Do bring her again more often, I think the two of you make the perfect pair.”
She apologies, stepping back into the celebration. You feel like a weight was lifted off of your chest, somehow wanting nothing more than the woman’s approval.
“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. How do I even talk about my book with her when you inspired half of it.”
Jeno laughs, “I don’t think she minds. She knows more than she lets on, she just likes for people to introduce themselves anyway.”
Your eyes widen, "You're saying she probably has a hundred page long history on my entire existence?”
“A hundred pages sure sounds humble,” he jokes.
“Neno!”
“I know, I'm only joking.” His hand comes up to smooth over your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his hold, breathing in the subtle hint of wood from the cologne he must’ve put on as he got ready. “Can I show you somewhere?”
“That sounds like something a murderer would say,” He sighs and despite your heart thundering you continue. “But yes.”
The first thing you notice is how silent it is besides the waves crashing into the sand. The entire property had been closed off, a subtle flex Jeno hadn’t intended when he told you about the place on the drive over. It was dark despite the fairy lights hanging off the building, the only real lighting coming from the full moon that was cast up above you.
You think of all of the possibilities that could come about in your book. Every piece of inspiration coming from the past few months up until this moment. Only you knew it couldn’t continue this way, not with how risky it became. Not when you realized just by looking at Jeno in his suit, laughing with the rest of his family just how easy it would be to get used to this. To crave more.
“Do you like this place?”
“I love it.” You speak carefully, suddenly overwhelmed with how comfortable the silence was between you two. You're not sure when your chest became so heavy, or when breathing felt like a pierced blade to your chest.
“Princess.” Jeno calls you, and you wish you could answer him but you just can’t. He must’ve repeated himself again, because the next second he’s at your side forcing you to look into his eyes.
And even with the rough lighting and the blurry vision, he still took away every last bit of your sanity. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
You can tell he’s stressed, and you aren’t even sure when you started to cry but here you were with your makeup probably ruined, struggling to catch a breath. When did it become so hard to look at him without feeling like the world was crumbling beneath you? When did his pure existence have such profound meaning to you? No, that you could answer, because even a panic attack couldn’t take away from the fact that you loved Lee Jeno.
“I–“ You try to speak, only embarrassing yourself as you choke up on the words, warm tears spilling down your face.
“Hey, look at me. It’s okay, we’re okay.”
No, everything was not okay. You had fucked up the only rule that really mattered. You had done yourself the worst by falling in love with him.
“Y/N.” He’s clearly worried, though he masks it well enough. You look up at him, “I’m sorry, I made the rules myself and I couldn’t even follow them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I– no. I know it now. I’m in love with you.” You close your eyes refusing to look at him. “I didn’t mean to, and I know this is so sudden and you don’t feel the same at all but I just—“
You never get the chance to finish your sentence. His lips come crashing into yours, the same passion from the kiss you’d shared only nights before. He’s pouring every ounce of a love confession to you, hoping it will be enough to clear your mind of any doubts you had that he wasn’t yearning for your love.
He’s the oxygen you need to breathe. That’s your first thought when he pulls away. “I was supposed to be the one to tell you first.” He whispers.
“Then maybe you should’ve said it sooner,” You taunt, his thumb tracing over your tear stained cheeks.
He frowns, “I promise I was going to. It just took me a bit longer to realize.”
You gasp, feigning offense. “Wow, here I am pouring my heart out to you and instead you let me embarrass myself!”
“It’s not embarrassing to see you cry, you’re pretty even when you do.”
You hope it’s dark enough for him not to notice how flustered you are. “Don’t use flattery to get out of this!”
“Oh?” He pokes at your cheek. “But you seem to enjoy it a lot.”
He closes the distance, pecking the corner of your lips that results in a bashful smile from you. “Don’t worry, you have the rest of our lives to get used to my compliments.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re madly in love with me?”
“I think the kiss established that earlier. But yes Y/N, and I’d love for you to be my girlfriend too.”
“Ah,” you contemplate. “What are the benefits?”
“Everything we’ve done the past few months and more, you just got to experience the free trial.”
You shove at him playfully. “Then I gladly accept.” You say, and before he can give a snarky response you’re pulling him closer. Closing the distance between the two of you to share a kiss, this time as lovers.
Epilogue
Scary Love
It was Déjà vu. You sat anxiously in the same office you’d been in before. Only this time, you were confident that Shuhua wouldn’t turn you away, oh and of course the fingers you had been fiddling with happened to be of the man sitting right beside you.
Shuhua sets the papers down, her expression flat.
“So?” You grow more anxious, biting your bottom lip.
“I’ll let the graphic design department begin searching for an artist to go along with your cover art.” Your eyes widen. “It's wonderful.”
You jump up, dragging Jeno up on his own feet to celebrate with a hug. He smiles, not at all minding the fact that you’d just manhandled him.
You turn and face Shuhua then, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes. “Shuhua!”
“Don’t cry you big baby, you were always going to make it, you just needed more time.” She smiles, pulling you in for a short hug. “I’m proud of you y/n.”
“How am I not supposed to cry when you say things like that!”
The two of them laugh at you as you hug Jeno, hiding your face in his shirt. “I told you she’d love it.” Jeno says, patting your back. You look up at him, “It’s really thanks to you.”
He chuckles, “Thanks princess, but I wasn’t the one who wrote it.”
“Ah but you're the one who inspired it all!” You tease him, “Maybe I should add you as a co-writer.”
“Mhmm I’m sure my fans would be taken aback.”
“I don’t think they’d mind. Lee Jeno is known for being multiskilled after all.”
“Don’t you guys have places to be,” Shuhua groans. “I heard you booked a sold out show.”
“Oh right!” You exclaim, “we should really get going, don't want to keep anyone waiting.”
“Right, go on and leave! Take your puppy with you!”
Oblivion had really reached new heights of popularity, they’d been working so hard these past few months working on pushing out a full album that you had almost forgotten how your boyfriend looked. You giggle at the thought, you were Lee Jeno’s girlfriend.
The fans quickly took a liking to you, with how loud and relatable your personality was. They’d even spotted the two of you on a date (if you can call grocery shopping that) not too long ago, asking for a picture with Jeno that you quickly agreed to. Jeno, as humble as ever, had gushed at their compliments. And when the fan suddenly turned to you asking if they could also have a picture, Jeno was way too quick to take fifty of them.
Things were great, even with the busy schedules between the two of you, you made sure to make time to go to his shows.
“Guys, we’re going to need you on stage in the next ten minutes.” Chenle, Oblivion’s new manager, reminded everyone.
“Yes sir!” Mark saluted the man, “You heard him guys, hurry up.”
“I’m going to miss you.” You pout, running your hands over your boyfriend's forearm.
“Don’t be silly, I’m going to be looking right at you.”
“I don’t think the fans will appreciate that.”
“No they will,” Darling adds into your conversation. “They’ll add it to your cutest couple moments compilations.”
“You sound like you know them so well.”
“She has secret chat rooms with them,” Donghyuck squints at darling. “Where else would they have gotten those pictures of me and Jaemin.”
Jaemin wrapped an arm around the tan man. “Nope, all me.”
You laugh at the two of them, Jeno’s arms wrapping around you and he snuggles into your neck. “Do you want to come up on stage later?”
“Neno you know I can’t.”
“You can if it’s an encore,” he sighs. He really does look like such a puppy when he makes those eyes. “Please baby.”
You couldn’t say no to him. “Fine.”
He smiles, pulling you in for a short and sweet kiss that's partially interrupted by Chenle stopping by again to shout, "Five more minutes!”
“You guys are kind of disgusting.” Jisung scowls but from where he has his head laying to rest on darling’s shoulder.
“You say that, but need we remind you of the heinous acts the two of you got up to before our show?” Jeno threatens the couple with a smile on his face.
They match each other’s beet red. The rest of the band turned to laugh at the pair, teasing the couple further. That reminded you.
“Neno,” You ask. “Have you ever considered red hair?”
By the time the last song ended the crowd pushed for more, which meant that you could make do of your promise to your boyfriend. Security allowed for you to pass through and onto the stage, Jeno capturing your entire body the second you got close. “I missed you.”
“I thought you said you’d be looking right at me.”
“Yeah but that only made me miss you more.”
The band, as per fan request, chose to perform their final song again, this time with a twist. Jisung was to take over lead vocals as the rest of them swapped instruments, safe for Jeno who instead had to direct you to play for him.
You sat on his lap, a bright smile on your face that was battling the stage lights. You’d never felt happier, you think, sitting with Jeno. A part of it scared you, not knowing what could come out of this. You hadn’t ever expected to be living as one of your novels, but here was the man in front of you willing to give you your happy ending. Loving you so openly despite his similar fears.
“Here,” he gives you a drum stick. You accept holding onto it as his bigger hand wraps around yours. “Follow my lead.” He brings the stick down, hitting the snare with light force. Not enough to have you jumping off of him but enough for you to squeal in shock.
His laughs fill your ears despite the heavy music and crowd. And as you turn back barely able to look straight into his eyes, you find him already looking into yours. This time with an expression you find easy to recognize with how much you love him too.
You realize it then, you’d follow his lead anywhere.
࣪𖤐 the end ── ★ ̟
FINAL NOTES: This one was so much less angsty than the other one and I was scared if that would affect the readers experience but my beta reader said that both stories were on par with one another… Anyway i’m happy to write more of these two in the next part.. Donghyuck biases i hope ur excited!!
pairing: slytherin! na jaemin x gryffindor! fem. reader
genre: hogwarts au, fake dating (hell yeah!), fluff, smut, angst
wc: 34k (full fic)
summary: It's a simple deal: fake date the Slytherin golden boy to dodge his arranged marriage. Easy. Except patrols turn into makeouts, a Quidditch win ends in a very steamy contract violation, and suddenly your N.E.W.T.s feel like the least of your problems. After one badly timed confession, it’s clear he’s not acting anymore—and neither are you.
content warnings: slow burn, explicit sexual content (2nd part), miscommunication!!!, emotional hurt/comfort, cursing, alcohol consumption, reader is self conscious/bit anxious, heavy hogwarts canon themes obvs, slytherin/gryffindor dynamics, jaemin is lowkgenuinely manipulative at the beginning, mean slytherin stereotypes, avoidance as a coping mechanism. lmk if i missed anything!
a/n: ok this is gonna be a long a/n so bear with me. this fic genuinely almost killed me. i don’t think i’ve ever struggled so much to finish something in my life and it’s 100% my fault for being too ambitious. you’ll notice i tried to weave in more hogwarts details and brit lingo to make it feel more authentic, but as you may have guessed… i am not british 😭 so that meant a lot of googling, rewatching, and rereading some of my fav hp fics just to make sure i wasn’t embarrassing myself. i did my best okay (shoutout to every hp fic writer before me, yall are the blueprint). also: yes, you may catch a hint of draco malfoy in jaemin’s character and that’s very much intentional. i am, at my core, a draco apologist and i don’t see myself changing. anyways. i really hope you enjoy reading this as much as i suffered writing it. please let me know what you think w ur comments, anons, reblogs. everything is appreciated more than you know 🖤
“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Hogwarts had always held a certain allure, with its ancient stone walls and magic that seemed to permeate every nook and cranny. For six and a half years, you'd wandered those hallowed halls, immersing yourself in a world so far removed from the mundane that at times it hardly seemed real.
Yet, for all its wonder and mystique, Hogwarts was not without its dangers.
There were cursed objects that lurked in shadowy corridors, waiting for an unsuspecting student to stumble upon them. Staircases that shifted without warning, leaving the unwary stranded or, worse, deposited in some unknown part of the castle. The Whomping Willow that stood sentinel on the grounds, its gnarled branches poised to strike at any who ventured too close. Even Peeves the Poltergeist roamed the halls, cackling with malicious glee as he wreaked havoc and sowed chaos in his wake.
In the face of such peril, you had thus far emerged unscathed, a feat that was nothing short of remarkable given the castle's rather alarming mortality rate. You attributed your survival to a simple yet effective strategy: be invisible, be boring, and for the love of Merlin, stay away from anyone interesting.
Interesting people, you had learned, were magnets for trouble. They ended up in the hospital wing with alarming regularity, usually victims of rogue hexes or potions experiments gone awry. They attracted drama the way honey attracted flies, their lives a constant whirlwind of rumor and intrigue. Interesting people had complicated social lives, with networks of friends and enemies and romantic entanglements that required constant upkeep.
You, on the other hand, were perfectly content with your quiet, unassuming existence. You had one close friend, one beloved cat, and a comfortable routine that rarely demanded more of you than attending classes and avoiding human interaction as much as possible. It wasn't a particularly exciting life, but it was safe and predictable and suited you just fine.
At least, it had until this particular moment, when your sole friend had apparently taken complete leave of her senses.
"Are you having some sort of episode?" You peered at Jo over the top of your book, brow furrowed in concern. "Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey? Is this what happens when you inhale too many potion fumes?"
Jo rolled her eyes with an exaggerated huff. "Please!" she wheedled, her voice climbing to that particular pitch that never boded well. "Please please please, I swear on Merlin's saggy ba—"
You held up a finger, cutting her off before she could complete that thought. "I'm going to stop you right there..."
"I'll never ask you for anything ever again!" She pleaded, clasping her hands together. "I'll do your Potions essays for a month! I'll clean Whiskers' litter box! I'll—"
"I don't think you heard me the first time," you interrupted, fixing her with a pointed stare. "Are. You. Mental?"
The Gryffindor common room was mercifully empty save for the portrait of a tongue-less lady, who watched your exchange with rapt attention. Having gotten her tongue cut out in 1642 for "seditious gossip", the painted woman had developed a keen appreciation for drama in all its forms. Judging by the way she clutched at her pearls, this was the most excitement she'd witnessed in decades. Whiskers was curled up in your lap, observing your best friend with as much judgement as you probably were.
"Come ooon," Jo cajoled, undeterred by your apparent lack of enthusiasm. "When do I ever do things like this? You're always telling me to try new things!"
"I meant take up knitting! Join the Gobstones Club! I did not mean sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night to meet some potentially lycanthropic stranger you've been corresponding with!"
"He's not a stranger, I've been writing to him for months—"
"Which is exactly what every person who's ever been murdered by a pen pal has said—"
"And he's not a werewolf, he's perfectly lovely! I saw him in Hogsmeade last month, I just couldn't say hello because McGonagall was watching me like a hawk."
"Seeing someone from a distance hardly counts as a proper introduction," you argued, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself as if to punctuate your point.
This was the problem with having just one close friend. You knew Jo too well, could read her every expression and intonation better than anyone else. That gleam in her eye, the set of her chin, the way she twisted her fingers in her lap - you recognized the signs of a course already plotted, a decision already made. She would go through with this mad scheme with or without your help, and if you refused, she'd likely end up dead in a ditch somewhere and you'd be left to drown in guilt for the rest of your days.
Guilt, you thought grimly, was a most effective motivator.
With a weary sigh, you closed your book and met Jo's hopeful gaze. "Fine. Fine. What exactly do you need me to do?"
Jo's answering grin could have lit up the entirety of the Great Hall. "Just swap patrol shifts with Sophie Crockett tomorrow night? She's an absolute nightmare, and if she catches me out after curfew she'll go straight to McGonagall."
You could feel a headache blooming behind your eyes. "And when Sophie asks why I'm suddenly so eager to take on the worst patrol slot in existence?"
"Just make something up! She's not going to turn down a chance to skive off for an evening, is she?"
Rubbing your temples, you silently cursed the fickle twists of fate that had led you to this moment. "And the other prefects? I'll still have to deal with them, you know."
Jo waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you're all right. The only other one scheduled is Na Jaemin, and everyone knows he never actually patrols. Just goes and snogs girls in the library all night, doesn't he?"
You raised an incredulous eyebrow. "How would you know that?"
"Everyone knows," Jo said with a shrug. "It's common knowledge."
"Well, I didn't know."
"That's because you never pay attention to gossip," Jo pointed out, flopping down beside you on the couch. "Honestly, you're missing out on prime entertainment. Anyway, I'm sure Jaemin's got better things to do than patrol corridors. You'll probably have the place to yourself.”
You made a noncommittal sound, trying not to think too hard about Na Jaemin and his extracurricular activities.
It was funny, really. Or rather more like cosmically ironic. First and second year, Jaemin had been an absolute pest. Always lurking around corners, waiting to charm your bag so your books would spill everywhere, or jinx your quill during tests so it would only write rude limericks. He’d found you endlessly amusing, apparently, a never-ending source of entertainment. You’d gone to bed countless nights fuming, plotting revenge you’d never actually carry out, wishing he’d just leave you alone.
And then, somewhere around third year, he just stopped. He stopped seeking you out, or looking at you entirely. As if you’d ceased to exist the moment you stopped being fun to torment.
By fourth year, he’d transformed into a whole different person entirely. Suddenly he was all smoldering glances and that insufferable “playboy” swagger, a different girl on his arm every week. Too cool for pranks and too sophisticated for something as juvenile as tormenting students. He’d become exactly the sort of person you’d made it your mission to avoid: interesting, magnetic, drowning in attention and drama.
You supposed you should have been relieved. You’d wanted him to leave you alone, after all. But there was something particularly galling about being so thoroughly dismissed, about going from his favorite target to utterly beneath his notice. At least when he’d been pulling pranks, you’d existed to him.
Now you were just… nobody. Which was exactly what you’d wanted, you reminded yourself firmly. Exactly what you’d worked so hard to achieve.
“You’re probably right,” you said to Jo, pushing thoughts of Jaemin firmly out of your mind. “I’ll probably have the whole patrol to myself.”
Privately, you rather doubted that. In your experience, the universe had a way of placing you in the path of people and situations you'd much rather avoid. Still, Jo was clearly determined to see her plan through, and short of physically restraining her (a tempting prospect, but ultimately impractical), you saw no way to dissuade her.
"Fine," you said again. "I'll take Sophie's patrol. But if this goes sideways, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' in the loudest, most obnoxious voice I can muster."
"You're the best." Jo pulled you into a rib-cracking hug, her hair tickling your nose. "Seriously, I owe you one."
"You owe me several," you grumbled, but you returned the hug all the same.
Later that night, as you lay in bed listening to the soft snores of your dormmates, you tried to ignore the sense of foreboding curling in your gut. Rationally, you knew the odds of anything truly catastrophic happening were slim. It was just one night, one patrol, one tiny favor for your best friend. Surely the universe wouldn't be so cruel as to upend your careful, boring routine over something so trivial.
But then, you thought wryly, life did seem to have a twisted sense of humor where you were concerned.
With a sigh, you rolled over and buried your face in your pillow, willing sleep to come. Tomorrow would bring what it would. For now, all you could do was hope that, just this once, the cosmic forces that governed your life would decide to give you a break.
Poorly planned rule-breaking never worked out the way you expected it to.
There was the first year incident, for instance, involving a misplaced curiosity about the Restricted Section and a borrowed invisibility cloak that was, crucially, not yours. You’d lasted exactly twelve minutes before knocking over a stack of cursed folios and alerting Madam Pince.
Second year had been defined by an ill-advised attempt to brew Pepper-Up Potion in a bathroom sink, resulting in steam, screaming, and a week-long ban from practical spellwork. Jo still insisted it would have worked if you’d stirred clockwise instead of counterclockwise. You maintained that the problem was attempting potion-making in plumbing never designed for magic.
After those things, you'd like to say you saw the impending disaster coming from a mile away, but honestly? You were too preoccupied with figuring out how to convince Sophie Crockett to swap shifts without making her suspicious.
As it turned out, Sophie was pathetically easy to persuade. You caught her after Charms, mentioned something vague about "wanting to study for the Divination exam in the morning" (there was no Divination exam, but Sophie didn't take Divination, so she was none the wiser), and she agreed immediately, no questions asked. Just a breezy "Oh, thank Merlin, I've got an Astronomy essay I haven't even started" and that was that.
In hindsight, that should have been your first warning sign. When things fell into place too smoothly, it usually meant the universe was just winding up for a truly spectacular cosmic sucker punch.
At nine sharp on Saturday you pinned your prefect badge to your robes and made your way down to the Entrance Hall, silently cursing your inability to say no to Jo's puppy dog eyes.
The castle took on a different character at night. Not peaceful, exactly. More... haunting. The portraits whispered conspiratorially as you passed, and the shadows in the corners seemed to stretch and deepen weirdly. You'd walked these corridors countless times before, but they never quite lost their eerie quality after dark.
You were supposed to meet Jaemin at the main staircase to divvy up patrol routes. But in theory, if the rumors about his extracurricular activities were true, you'd never actually know have to interact with him at all.
That was the theory, anyway.
The reality was that when you arrived at the designated meeting spot, Na Jaemin was already there, leaning against the banister and looking distinctly un-snog-ready.
Jaemin was the sort of boy who looked like he was born in moonlight and named by a poet. Even in the sallow torchlight, his hair glowed, silver-gold and a little too long for regulation. There was always something quietly triumphant in the angle of his jaw, the tilt of his smile, as if every corridor was a stage and every passing student a captive audience.
You stopped short, your feet suddenly rooted to the spot. Some ancient, reflexive part of your brain was screaming at you to turn around, to flee, to avoid him the way you’d been so carefully avoiding him for the past four years. The last time you’d been alone with Na Jaemin you’d been twelve years old and he’d been too entertained by your mortification to let you escape.
Now you were seventeen, and he was looking at you with an expression that was completely different and all too intense. He was supposed to be off in some secluded corner of the library, doing unspeakable things with whatever girl was lucky enough to be on his arm that week. He was absolutely not supposed to be here, looking alert and purposeful and like he was actually planning to do his job.
Even more concerning, he looked annoyed.
"You're the Gryffindor prefect," he said, and it sounded more like an accusation than a question.
"...Yes?" Really, what else could you say?
"Where's Crockett?"
"We swapped shifts."
His eyes, a rather striking shade of dark brown that you'd never had occasion to notice before, narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"
"Does it matter?"
He closed his eyes briefly, and you got the distinct impression he was counting to ten in his head. When he opened them again, he fixed you with a look that could have flash-frozen a cup of tea. "I needed Crockett on duty tonight."
Well. That was... odd. Extremely odd. Highly, suspiciously odd. Why would Na Jaemin, Slytherin prince and general too-cool-for-this-nonsense type, care which prefect was patrolling with him?
"Well," you said, channeling every ounce of polite defiance you possessed, "we've already swapped, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me. Unless you've got a Time-Turner hidden somewhere, which would be highly illegal, so I'm going to assume you don't."
Jaemin's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. "This is—" He stopped himself, visibly recalibrating. "Fine. Right. You take floors three through five then. I'll handle the lower levels and the grounds."
And that's when your brain, which had been operating at half capacity due to stress and sleep deprivation, finally caught up with the situation.
The grounds.
Jaemin wanted to patrol the grounds.
The same grounds where, at this very moment, your best friend was likely rendezvousing with her mystery man.
Oh no.
"Actually," you heard yourself say, the words tumbling out in a slightly manic rush, "I was rather hoping to get some fresh air tonight. Bit stuffy in the castle, you know. Mind if we swap? You take the upper floors, I'll do the grounds."
His expression shuttered faster than a shop window in Knockturn Alley. "No."
"No?"
"No."
"Well, that's not very cooperative of you," you said, mentally calculating how quickly you could sprint to the grounds to warn Jo. "Aren't prefects supposed to work as a team?"
Jaemin raised one perfectly arched brow. "Why so keen on the grounds all of a sudden?"
"No reason." Your voice came out at least an octave higher than usual. "Just thought it would be nice to get some air. Lovely night for a stroll, don't you think?"
"You're an atrocious liar," he informed you, taking a step closer. You were suddenly, acutely aware of the fact that he was quite a bit taller than you, and that the height difference was doing absolutely nothing to bolster your confidence in this situation. "What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"Of course not. And I suppose you just happened to swap shifts with Crockett tonight for no particular reason, and now you're coincidentally desperate to patrol the grounds."
Okay. This was getting out of control. You needed him. away from the grounds, away from Jo, away from this entire situation. And there was only one thing you could think of that might actually work.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”
“You know.” You waved a hand vaguely, heat creeping up your neck. “It’s Saturday night. I just thought you might have… plans.”
“Plans,” he repeated flatly.
“Yeah, well… You don’t actually patrol on Saturdays.” The words came out in a rush, ungraceful and desperate. “So if you want to go do whatever it is you usually do, I can handle this. Really. You don’t have to—”
“Whatever it is I usually do,” Jaemin said, his lips twitching. “And what exactly do you think that is?”
Oh god. Why had you started this?
“I don’t know. I don’t keep track of your schedule.”
“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t be standing here trying to… what? Give me permission to skive off?” He was definitely smiling now, the bastard. “How thoughtful of you.”
“I’m just saying, if you have other commitments—”
He laughed, short and sharp. “Is that what we’re calling it? Commitments?”
Your face was absolutely burning now. “Look, what you do with your time is none of my business.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Because I’m trying to be helpful!” You gestured wildly at the empty entrance hall. “The library’s right there. I’m sure whoever you’re supposed to meet would appreciate you actually showing up—”
“Ah.” Jaemin’s grin widened, showing teeth. “You think I’m supposed to meet someone in the library.”
“That’s what people say,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes.
“People say a lot of things.” He leaned back against the banister, looking thoroughly entertained now. “And you believe all of them?”
“That’s not the point—”
“Tell me, what else does everyone say about me? I’m curious.”
This was a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. “Forget I said anything.”
“Oh no, I don’t think so.” He pushed off the banister, taking a step closer. “You started it. Come on, don’t be shy now. What exactly are these Saturday night activities I’m supposedly abandoning patrol for?”
You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. “You already know what people say.”
“I do. But I want to hear you say it.” His eyes were dancing with so much glee. “Go on. Don’t spare my delicate sensibilities.”
“This is ridiculous—”
“Go on.”
You took a breath, lifted your chin, and forced the words out with as much dignity as you could muster. “Fine. People say you spend your patrol shifts in the library doing…things.”
“I really don’t. You’ll have to be more specific.”
He was enjoying this far too much, the absolute prat. “They say you… meet girls there.”
“Meet girls,” he said thoughtfully. “Like a book club?”
“Not like a book club,” you gritted out.
“Then what?”
You threw your hands up. “They say you snog girls in the library instead of doing your prefect duties! There! Are you happy?”
Jaemin laughed. “Merlin’s beard, is that it?”
“That’s what everyone says.”
“And you believed it?” He shook his head, still grinning. “That’s adorable, really.”
“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.
“Well, you are when you’re trying to delicately inform me about my own scandalous reputation.” His eyes glittered with delight. “How very considerate, giving me an out like that. ‘Oh Jaemin, don’t let me keep you from your library assignations.’”
He said it in a high pitched tone, clearly trying for a very inaccurate impression of you.
“I was only trying to be nice.” You huffed.
“You’re trying to get rid of me,” he corrected, but he didn’t sound annoyed about it. If anything, he seemed more intrigued. “Which brings us back to the question of why you’re so desperate for me to not patrol the grounds tonight.”
Damn it. You’d played right into his hands. “I’m not—”
“You just tried to use my supposed promiscuity as an excuse to get me to leave.” He tilted his head, studying you. “So either you’re deeply concerned about my social life, or there’s something on the grounds you don’t want me to find.”
Your heart was hammering again. He’d out-maneuvered you completely, turning your own attempt at manipulation back on you.
“Well?” he prompted. “Which is it?”
“The first one,” you lied weakly. “I’m very concerned about your social life.”
“Right.” His smile was sharper now, more predatory. “In that case, you’ll be delighted to know I’m completely free tonight. I have no library dates or clandestine meetings. Just a nice, thorough patrol of the grounds.” He paused. “With you, apparently, since you seem so determined to tag along.”
You rolled your eyes. “You are so irritating.”
“There’s the Gryffindor honesty I remember,” he said cheerfully. “Come on then. Let’s go catch whoever it is you’re trying to protect.”
Wait. What?
“I’m not—there’s no one—”
But he was already turning toward the entrance hall, and panic clawed at your throat. You needed to try something else, anything to keep him from the grounds.
“Look,” you said, a note of genuine desperation creeping into your voice, “patrolling the grounds is easily twice the work of the upper floors. I’m offering to take on the extra effort here. What’s the problem?”
He paused, glancing back at you with an expression of exaggerated surprise. “You? Volunteering for extra work?” He pressed a hand to his chest in shock. “I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Na Jaemin, and you’re the girl who once hid in a broom cupboard for twenty minutes to avoid helping set up for the Yule Ball.”
“I did not—” You stopped, because you absolutely had done that, and he somehow knew about it. “That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it though?” He was grinning again, clearly enjoying himself. “Come on, admit it. You’ve spent six years perfecting the art of doing the absolute bare minimum. I’ve seen you let third years wander the corridors after curfew as long as they promised to go straight to bed.”
Your face burned. “I was tired that night—”
“You’re always tired.” He tilted his head. “So forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical about this sudden burst of civic responsibility. It’s very out of character for you.”
The sheer audacity. The unmitigated gall. To accuse you of apathy and then dismiss you without so much as a backward glance? An ember of indignation flared to life and burned away the last vestiges of your tattered patience. He had no right. No right to stand there and act like he understood anything about you when he was the reason you’d learned to make yourself invisible in the first place.
And now here he was, cataloging your flaws with that same amused smile, like you were still just entertainment to him.
“Fine,” you bit out. “Don’t take my offer. See if I care.”
“Oh, I won’t.” He turned back toward the entrance hall, waving a hand dismissively over his shoulder. “I’m patrolling the grounds. You can join me or check the upper floors. Your choice.”
“Why do you just get to decide that on your own? The grounds aren’t even part of the standard patrol route!”
"They are tonight," he tossed over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
And with that spectacularly unhelpful explanation, he walked out the front doors, leaving you standing slack-jawed and sputtering in his wake.
This was it. The moment of truth. You had approximately five seconds to make a decision that would either save your best friend from expulsion or doom her to a fate worse than death.
Option one: let Jaemin go off on his own. He'd catch Jo, she'd be expelled, and you'd spend the rest of your life weighed down by the guilt of your inaction.
Option two: follow him, try to run interference, and most likely fail spectacularly but hey, at least you could say you tried.
In the end, your choice was clear. The reckless, devil-may-care loyalty that had landed you in Gryffindor in the first place reared its noble head, and before you quite knew what you were doing, you were hurrying out the doors after Jaemin, resignation and foreboding dogging your every step.
"I'm coming!" you called after him.
Jaemin spun around, one eyebrow quirked in a way that suggested he'd interpreted your words in a decidedly less innocent manner.
"To the grounds," you clarified hastily, feeling your face heat up. "To patrol. With you."
“I gathered that much,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Though I appreciate the clarification. Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.”
You glared at him, but he’d already turned back around, that damned smirk still visible in profile.
Beyond the castle corridors, the night grounds felt twice as ominous. Shadows stretched from the Forbidden Forest, where twisted branches reached toward the sky like gnarled fingers against the dark. Nearby, the Black Lake remained a silent mirror, its surface only occasionally broken by ripples that hinted at the heavy, mysterious life lurking in the depths.
Jaemin had conjured a floating orb of soft white light to guide your path, which was considerate yet irritating, as it seemed to delight in hovering mere inches from your face and nearly blinding you. He walked with an easy grace, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like this was just a casual evening stroll and not a patently absurd situation that could land you both in a world of trouble.
You, on the other hand, were so tense you could practically feel your muscles vibrating. Your mind raced as you tried to remember what Jo had told you about her planned rendezvous.
They’d be in the grounds, obviously, but beyond that? Hogwarts' grounds spanned nearly a thousand acres and included everything from dense forest to rolling hills to a literal giant-squid-infested lake. If you were going to have any hope of intercepting Jo before Jaemin did, you needed a clearer idea of where exactly to look.
And you needed to keep him distracted.
“So,” Jaemin said, his voice cutting through your rising panic, “care to tell me what’s really going on here?”
“We’re patrolling,” you said, keeping your eyes fixed firmly ahead. “That’s what’s going on.”
“And I suppose you always volunteer for extra patrols on Saturday nights, do you? Just for the exercise?”
“Maybe I do. Fresh air is good for you.”
“Right.” He didn’t sound like he believed you for a second. “And here I thought you preferred to spend your evenings in the Restricted Section, avoiding human interaction as much as possible.”
You shot him a sideways glance. “Have you been spying on me?”
“It’s called being observant,” he said lightly. “You should try it sometime. Although I suppose that would require you to take an interest in something beyond your very busy schedule of going through the motions and avoiding anything that might resemble effort.”
There it was again, that annoying assessment of your character, delivered with a smile that made it impossible to tell if he was genuinely criticizing you or just winding you up for his own amusement.
Bristling, you planted your hands on your hips and glared up at him. "I put in effort when it matters."
"And I'm sure swapping shifts with Crockett was a matter of utmost importance, then?" His lips curved into a smirk that made you want to hex it right off his unfairly symmetrical face. "Go on. What’s so crucial about tonight? Did you lose a bet? Secret passion for night-time groundskeeping?”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because you’re terrible at being subtle, and watching you try is genuinely entertaining.” He grinned at your affronted expression. “Plus, I’m curious. You’ve spent the better part of six years being aggressively unremarkable, and now here you are, practically begging to patrol the grounds with me. It’s very out of character.”
“Stop acting like you know everything about me.”
“I might not know everything about you,” he said, his voice taking on a knowing tone, “But I know you’re trying to protect someone.”
Your heart skipped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. The floating light cast strange shadows across his features, making his expression harder to read. “Here’s what I think is happening. There’s someone out here meeting someone they shouldn’t be meeting. You agreed to swap with Crockett to cover for that person, expecting me to skip patrol like I apparently always do. But I didn’t, so now you’re stuck trying to run interference while pretending this is all perfectly normal.”
You stared at him, your mouth going dry. He’d worked it out. As expected, Na Jaemin might be annoying and smug and entirely too pleased with himself, but he’d never been stupid.
“That’s…” you started, but your voice came out weak. “That’s a very creative theory.”
“You’ve gone red again.” He tilted his head, studying you. “Dead giveaway.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but closed it again, floundering. There was absolutely no way to explain your actions without either incriminating Jo or making yourself look even more suspicious. You were well and truly cornered, and the triumphant gleam in Jaemin's eyes told you he knew it.
But before you could cobble together a halfway coherent response, a sound drifted through the night air that made you stop cold.
Laughter.
More specifically, Jo's laughter, bright and carefree and coming from somewhere worryingly close by.
Jaemin froze too, his eyes narrowing. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" you asked, feigning ignorance even as your heart threatened to beat its way out of your ribcage. "I didn't hear anything. Probably just the wind. It howls around the turrets sometimes..."
"That wasn't the wind." He was already moving again, long legs eating up the ground as he strode purposefully toward the source of the sound. "That was a person, maybe two, from the sounds of it"
"What? No, that's—I really think it was just the wind. Or maybe Peeves playing a prank. You know what a menace he is, always causing trouble, we should probably go back inside and—"
But he wasn't listening. Because he'd caught the scent of rule-breaking, and Merlin forbid he let it go in favor of the much more appealing option of minding his own damn business.
You had no choice. You were either going to have to physically stop him (a laughable notion - he had a good six inches and probably thirty pounds of muscle on you), or you were going to have to get to Jo first.
The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of them. "Wait!"
Miraculously, he actually stopped walking and turned to look at you, one eyebrow arched expectantly.
"I—" Your mind raced, grasping for any excuse, any diversion, anything to keep him from taking another step. "I think I saw something. Over there." You pointed vaguely off to your left, in the opposite direction of Jo's laughter. "We should go check it out."
Jaemin regarded you with exasperation. "You know, for someone who's spent the better part of six years avoiding attention, you're shockingly bad at subterfuge."
"I–I'm just being cautious. It's dark out here, and there could be...things. Dangerous things. Like snargaluffs, or...or a moke on the loose."
"A moke," he repeated flatly. "An invisible lizard the size of a mouse. You think I should be worried about a moke ambushing me.”
“They can be vicious!”
“They’re ten inches tall.”
“Size isn’t everything,” you shot back, then immediately regretted it as his grin widened into something positively wicked.
“I’ll have to take your word for that,” he said smoothly, and you felt your face flame.
“That’s not—I didn’t mean—oh, for Merlin’s sake.” You covered your face with your hands, wondering if it was possible to die of embarrassment. “Can we please just check the trees?”
“Why?” He took a step closer, and you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. “What are you so afraid I’m going to find if we keep going this way?”
You hesitated, weighing your options. On the one hand, the truth was unthinkable. You couldn't just throw Jo to the wolves like that, not after you'd promised to cover for her. On the other hand, you were rapidly running out of plausible lies, and Jaemin clearly wasn't buying any of them.
“Nothing,” you said, but it came out weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.
“Nothing,” he echoed. “Right. So you won’t mind if I just—”
He made to move past you, toward where Jo’s laughter had come from, and you did the only thing you could think of.
You grabbed his arm.
The moment your fingers closed around his sleeve, you realized what a monumentally stupid mistake you’d made. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric and the solid muscle beneath. He stilled instantly, his gaze dropping to where your hand clutched at him, then slowly lifting to meet your eyes.
“Please,” you said quietly, all pretense abandoned. “Don’t go over there. Just—just forget you heard anything, and I’ll explain later. I promise.”
He studied you for a long moment. You were acutely aware of how close you were standing, of the way his eyes seemed to catch every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.
"So you are covering for someone," he said at last. "A friend, I'm guessing. The one you're always with? The loud one, with the"—he gestured vaguely—"the hair?"
"Her hair is perfectly normal, thank you very much, and I don't see how that's any of your business."
"It absolutely is my business, seeing as there are students out of bed and I'm a prefect. I'm supposed to report this sort of thing, you know."
"Yes, well, I'm also a prefect, and I'm asking you not to." Desperation bled into your voice, and you hated it, hated that you were practically begging him for something that you had no right to ask for. “Please, Jaemin. Can't you just...look the other way? Just this once?"
He was silent for a long moment, and you braced yourself for the inevitable. For the sneer, the cutting remark, the gleeful reminder that he was a Slytherin and Slytherins didn't do favors without expecting something in return.
But when he finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. "You really care about her, don't you? Your friend."
You swallowed hard, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. "She's my best friend. I'd do anything for her."
"Even lie to a fellow prefect and risk getting in trouble yourself."
"Yes." You met his gaze squarely, unflinching. "Even that."
Another long silence, and then he sighed. "All right, fine."
You blinked. "Fine?"
"Fine, I won't report her. But"—he held up a hand as you opened your mouth to thank him—"I want something in return."
There it was. You should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Slytherins always had an angle, and Jaemin was Slytherin to the core.
Wariness crept into your voice as you asked, "What sort of something?"
His lips curved into a smile that could only be described as predatory. "A favor. One favor, to be determined by me, at a time of my choosing. Do this, and I'll conveniently forget I heard anything tonight."
Your stomach dropped. A favor. An open-ended, unspecified, could-be-anything favor, owed to Na Jaemin. Well. This was how you died, not in a blaze of glory like a true Gryffindor, but in the thrall of a serpent's forked tongue and devastating jawline.
But what choice did you have? If you refused, Jo would be caught for sure. And then she'd be expelled, and it would be all your fault, and you'd have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life. A life which, frankly, was looking shorter and shorter with each passing minute as Jaemin stared you down, waiting for your answer.
"Fine," you said through gritted teeth. "One favor. But nothing illegal or dangerous or humiliating."
His smile widened, showing far too many teeth for your comfort. "Look at that. You’re negotiating. Will wonders never cease?"
"Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."
"Oh, I'll take them." He held out a hand, long fingers uncurling in an inviting gesture. "Shall we shake on it?"
You glared at his hand like it might bite you (and really, with Jaemin, who knew?) but reluctantly reached out and grasped it. His skin was warm, his grip firm, and you tried very hard not to think about how nice his hand felt in yours.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he murmured, and was it your imagination or did his thumb just stroke across your knuckles?
You snatched your hand back like you'd been burned, face flushing. "Yes, well. You'd better hold up your end of the bargain."
"I'm a man of my word." He sketched a mocking little bow. "Your friend's secret is safe with me for now."
The words 'for now' hung there as a silent threat, and you suppressed a shiver. What had you just agreed to? What price would you have to pay for your loyalty?
As if reading your thoughts, Jaemin's smile turned sly. "Don't look so worried. I promise I won't ask for anything too dreadful. Probably."
"Probably," you repeated faintly.
"Probably," he confirmed, and then he turned on his heel and started back toward the castle, leaving you to trail after him in a daze.
The rest of the patrol passed in a blur. You walked in silence, Jaemin seemingly content to let you stew in your own anxiety, and by the time you returned to the Entrance Hall, you were a nervous wreck. You kept imagining all the horrible things he might ask for—doing his homework for the rest of the term, being his personal servant, confessing to McGonagall that you were the one who'd let those nifflers loose in the staff room last year (even though that had been entirely Jo's doing and you'd just been an unwilling accomplice).
At the foot of the stairs, Jaemin paused and turned to face you. In the dim light of the entrance hall, his eyes were pools of shadow, unreadable and fathomless.
"I'll be in touch," he said, his voice low and full of dark promise. "Sweet dreams."
And then he was gone, melting into the shadows like he'd been born from them, leaving you with a racing heart and the sinking certainty that your life was about to become a lot more complicated.
The next morning, you cornered Jo in the common room before breakfast, pulling her into the corner by the window where no one could overhear.
“Tell me everything went okay last night,” you demanded without preamble. “Please tell me you didn’t do something insane—”
“Whoa, whoa!” Jo held up her hands, her eyes wide. “I’m fine! Everything went perfectly. Well, mostly perfectly. There was a weird moment where I thought I heard someone coming, but then nothing happened, so…” She trailed off, then grabbed your shoulders. “Wait. What happened to you? You look like you haven’t slept.”
“That’s because I haven’t.” You started pacing anxiously. “Jo. I think I might have done something really, really stupid.”
Her expression changed from concern to dread in the span of a second. “What kind of stupid?”
“The kind that involves Na Jaemin and a debt to repay.”
“Oh no.” Jo’s face went pale. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.” You tugged at your hair, feeling the full weight of last night’s decision crushing down on you. “He wanted to patrol the grounds, Jo. He would have found you. I couldn’t let that happen, so I… I made a deal with him.”
Jo stared at you like you'd just confessed to murdering the Minister of Magic. "You made a deal with Na Jaemin. The boy who once convinced half the school that Professor Flitwick was secretly a goblin in disguise."
"To be fair, he has a dash of goblin blood..."
"Not the point!" She grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to stop pacing. "What kind of deal are we talking about here? What did you promise him?"
You took a deep breath. "A favor."
"A favor," she repeated slowly. "What kind of favor?"
“The unspecified kind. The ‘to be determined at a later date’ kind. The ‘I now owe Na Jaemin a debt that he can collect on whenever he wants’ kind.”
She looked about two seconds away from fainting. “You didn’t.”
“I panicked!” you wailed, not caring that you were probably drawing attention from the other early risers scattered around the common room. “It was either agree to the favor or let him catch you with Mr. Mysterious! What was I supposed to do?”
“Not sell your soul to a Slytherin, for starters!” She released you and began pacing, chewing on her thumbnail in that way she only did when she was truly stressed. “This is bad. This is really, really bad. Na Jaemin with a favor from you? He could ask for anything. Anything.”
“You think I don’t know that?” You dropped your head into your hands. “I’ve been up all night imagining the horrible things he might ask for. What if he wants me to do something illegal? What if he wants me to sabotage someone? What if he wants me to—” You shuddered. “—publicly humiliate myself somehow?”
Jo stopped pacing, her expression shifting from panic to determination. “Okay. Okay, we’re not going to catastrophize. Yes, this is bad. Yes, owing Jaemin a favor is potentially disastrous. But it’s not the end of the world.”
“Isn’t it though?”
“No.” She sat down beside you, taking your hand. “Listen to me. You did this to protect me. You put yourself on the line because you’re a good friend, the best friend, and I’m not going to let you face this alone. Whatever Jaemin asks for, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”
You wanted to take comfort in her words, in the fierce loyalty shining in her eyes. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just made a deal with the devil, and the bill would come due sooner rather than later.
“Okay,” you said quietly, squeezing her hand. “Together.”
“Together,” she confirmed. Then her expression turned mischievous. “Besides, who knows? Maybe he’ll ask for something simple. Like help with his Potions essay or something.”
You snorted despite yourself. “Jaemin doesn’t need help with Potions. He’s annoyingly good at everything.”
“Well then maybe he’ll ask you to—I don’t know—organize his sock drawer? Polish his prefect badge?”
“Jo.”
“I’m just saying, it might not be as bad as you think!”
But even as you tried to let her optimism buoy you, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just changed irrevocably. That in agreeing to owe Jaemin a favor, you'd set into motion a chain of events that you couldn't possibly predict or control.
Whatever he wanted from you, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be something as simple as organizing his socks.
A haze of anxiety and paranoia defined the following week, one that had you reaching a level of vigilance that would have impressed even Mad-Eye Moody.
You jumped at every sudden noise, flinched every time a Slytherin so much as glanced in your direction, and spent an inordinate amount of time scanning the Great Hall for any sign of Jaemin’s blonde head bent in whispered conversation with his housemates, plotting your doom.
To avoid him, you mapped out convoluted routes to class, opting for deserted corridors even when they made you late. Mealtimes were rescheduled to avoid the rush—breakfast at dawn, lunch in the late afternoon, and dinner only when the Hall had emptied to a few stragglers. In Potions, which was the one class you shared with him, you positioned yourself as far from his usual spot as physically possible, practically pressed against the dungeon wall, and refused to so much as breathe in his direction.
Not that it mattered… Because he didn’t approach you at all.
He just watched you.
From across the courtyard, his gaze would find you through a flurry of Slytherin green. Other times, your eyes would drift upward in Potions only to find him already staring, head propped lazily in his palm. He looked for all the world as if you were far more entertaining than any lecture Professor Slughorn could provide.
You started second-guessing everything. The way you sat, the way you spoke, the way you tugged at your sleeve or tucked your hair behind your ear when nervous. You found yourself becoming a caricature of yourself: rigid, overly cautious, desperate to give nothing away.
By the end of the week, you were a nervous wreck. You’d bitten your nails down to the quick. Developed a stress-induced rash on your neck that no amount of Essence of Dittany could soothe. And even started having vivid nightmares about Jaemin cornering you in increasingly absurd locations like the Prefects’ bathroom, or memorably in the middle of a Quidditch match where he’d swooped down on a broom to demand you juggle puffapods while the entire school watched.
“You need to sleep,” Jo said on Friday night, eyeing the bags under your eyes with concern. “This is getting ridiculous. You look like you’ve been hit with a Confundus Charm.”
“I can’t sleep,” you muttered, your third cup of coffee cooling forgotten beside your Transfiguration essay. “Every time I close my eyes, I just see his face. That stupid, smug, infuriatingly perfect face.”
Jo’s eyebrows shot up. “Perfect?”
“Putrid,” you corrected hastily, feeling your face heat. “I meant putrid. The point is, I can’t relax knowing that at any moment, he could just… appear and demand whatever horrific thing he’s been planning.”
“Maybe he’s forgotten about it,” Jo suggested, though she didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe he was just messing with you, and he never actually intended to collect.”
You wanted to believe that. You really did. But you’d seen the satisfied glint in Jaemin’s eyes when you’d shaken hands.
No. He hadn’t forgotten. He was just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The weekend dragged on with NEWTs studying, failed naps and increasingly creative avoidance techniques. By Sunday morning, you were so on edge that when an owl swooped down at breakfast and dropped a letter directly onto your plate, you actually screamed.
Half the Gryffindor table turned to stare.
“It’s just the post,” Jo said soothingly, though she was eyeing the letter with nearly as much suspicion as you were. “Probably from your mother.”
Your hands shook as you picked up the envelope. The handwriting was your mother’s, thank Merlin, and you sagged with relief as you broke the seal.
“See?” Jo said. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Can you blame me?” you muttered, scanning your mother’s cheerful recounting of your aunt’s latest garden gnome infestation. “It’s been a week, Jo. A whole week of nothing. It’s unnatural.”
“Psychological warfare, that’s what this is. Classic Slytherin mind games. He’s letting you stew, letting the anticipation build, until you’re so wound up that you’ll agree to anything just to put yourself out of your misery.”
“Thank you, Jo,” you said through gritted teeth, stabbing your sausage with enough force to make your fork screech against the plate. “That’s incredibly comforting.”
“I’m just saying, it’s textbook manipulation.” She reached for the marmalade, unbothered by your glare. “My cousin Fergus dated a girl from that house once, and she used to—”
But you never found out what Jo's cousin's Slytherin ex-girlfriend did, because at that moment, a hush fell over the Great Hall. You looked up, already knowing what you'd see, and felt your stomach drop straight through the floor.
Jaemin was walking toward the Gryffindor table with purpose and intent, his long strides eating up the distance between the Slytherin table and yours. His eyes were fixed on you with such singular focus that you couldn’t have looked away if you tried.
There was a small satisfied smile playing on his lips.
He was enjoying this, the utter bastard. Enjoying the way every eye in the hall was now fixed on you, the way whispers erupted in his wake like the hissing of a hundred snakes.
He came to a stop directly across from you, and you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. They were dancing with amusement, and you had the sudden, wild urge to tip your pumpkin juice into his lap.
"Good morning," he said, for all the world as if this were a perfectly normal interaction and not a blatant violation of the unwritten rules that governed breakfast seating arrangements. "Sleep well?"
You gaped at him, too stunned to formulate a response. Beside you, Jo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort hastily disguised as a cough.
Jaemin’s smile widened, showing a flash of teeth. “I’ll take that as a no.” His gaze swept over you, taking in the bags under your eyes, the coffee stains on your robes, the general air of sleep-deprived panic you’d been cultivating all week. “Have you been avoiding me?”
The question was delivered lightly, almost teasingly, but there was an undercurrent to it. A knowing edge that said he was perfectly aware of every corridor you’d ducked down, every meal you’d skipped, every desperate attempt you’d made to stay out of his path.
“Avoiding you?” you repeated with a nervous laugh. “Of course not. I’ve been—I’ve been busy. Studying and stuff.”
“Mm.” He didn’t sound remotely convinced. “Well, you’re not busy now, are you? I need to talk to you.” He paused, letting his gaze sweep meaningfully across the rapt faces surrounding you. “Privately.”
Oh no. Oh no no no.
"Huh?" you said eloquently.
"Talk. Privately," he repeated, enunciating each syllable as if you were a particularly slow-witted troll.
“I’m eating breakfast,” you said weakly, gesturing at your plate where your eggs had gone cold and congealed.
“You can eat later.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “Come on. This won’t take long.”
Every fiber of your being wanted to plant yourself in your seat and force him to either leave or make a scene. But you could feel the weight of the entire school’s attention pressing down on you.
You glanced around, taking in the avid stares, the blatant eavesdropping, the gleeful anticipation on every face. Even the staff table looked uncommonly interested, with Professor McGonagall peering at you over her spectacles and Flitwick not even pretending not to listen in.
"Fine," you bit out, shoving back from the table with enough force to make the dishes rattle. "Lead the way."
Jaemin inclined his head, that infuriating smile still playing about his lips, and turned to walk out of the hall. You followed, determinedly ignoring the explosion of chatter that erupted in your wake.
He led you out of the castle, across the dew-damp lawn, all the way to the edge of the lake where a lone beech tree stretched its branches over the water. It was, you noted sourly, an incredibly picturesque spot for a clandestine meeting. Almost as if he'd planned it that way.
"All right," you said, crossing your arms and fixing him with your best glare. "What do you want?"
He leaned against the tree trunk, the picture of nonchalance, and regarded you with a calculating expression. "I think you know."
"The favor," you said flatly.
"The favor," he agreed. "Time to pay up, I'm afraid."
Your heart began to race at this, palms turning clammy as every horrible scenario you'd imagined over the past week came rushing back.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Fine. What is it? What do you want me to do?"
Jaemin pushed off the tree and took a few steps toward you until he was so close you could see the individual flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
He looked down at you, his expression turning serious, almost solemn. "I need you," he said softly, "to be my girlfriend."
What the fuck.
You stared at him dumbly. Surely he'd said something else—"be my guard friend" or literally anything that made more sense than what you thought you'd heard. But after several seconds of awkward silence he simply stood there, staring back.
"I'm sorry," you said at last. "I must have misheard you. It sounded like you just said—"
"Be my girlfriend," he repeated, enunciating each word carefully. "That's the favor I'm asking."
You searched his face for any sign that this was a prank, or at the very least a bizarre figment of your overtired and overstressed imagination.
But he looked deadly serious, his eyes never leaving yours, his jaw set in a way that suggested he was bracing himself for your reaction.
"Right," you said slowly. "Okay. So you've clearly been hit with a Bludger recently. Or maybe you inhaled some dodgy spores from the Forest?" You peered at him more closely, genuinely concerned now. "I think you might be having some sort of mental episode—"
"I'm not having a mental episode."
You started backing away slowly, hands raised placatingly. “Just stay there, I'm going to go get help. Maybe Madam Pomfrey has an antidote for whatever's happened to your brain—"
"My brain is fine," Jaemin said, and he actually had the audacity to look amused. "I'm completely serious."
"That's even more concerning!" You threw your hands up. "Jaemin, you can't just—I mean, we barely even—we're not even friends! You spent two years torturing me and then four years pretending I didn't exist! And now you want me to be your girlfriend?"
"Fake girlfriend," he corrected.
"Oh, well, that changes everything," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fake girlfriend. Of course. How silly of me. That makes perfect sense."
"It does, actually, if you'd let me explain—"
"No. Absolutely not. This is—this is insane. You've lost your mind. Gone completely round the bend." You started pacing frantically. "You could have literally any girl in this school. Any girl! I’m sure there’s probably a waiting list even. And you want me to pretend to date you?"
"Yes."
"Why?!"
"Because you're perfect for this," he said with a shrug.
You let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "I'm what now?"
"Perfect," he repeated, and there wasn't a trace of humor in his voice now. "Think about it. You're a half-blood—"
"Oh don’t start with that blood purity crap—"
"No, I mean that it works perfectly because you're not involved in pureblood politics. You're not part of my usual social circle. You have no reason to want anything from me or my family beyond this one favor." He was ticking points off on his fingers now. "If we start dating, it'll be believable precisely because it's so unexpected."
"You think people will just believe that we're dating. You and me."
"Why not?"
"Because—" You gestured wildly between the two of you. "—because look at us! You're you, and I'm—I'm me! I spend my free time reading in corners and avoiding human interaction! You spend yours being disgustingly popular and having your pick of the female population! We have nothing in common! We don't even like each other!"
"All excellent points for why no one will suspect it's fake," he said smoothly. "If I were trying to stage a relationship, I’d pick someone more obvious. Someone from my house, someone I'm already friendly with. The fact that it's you makes it more authentic."
You stared at him, your brain struggling to process this absolute madness. "Have you been Imperisued or something? Seriously, I'm genuinely worried about you right now."
"I appreciate your concern," he said dryly. "But I assure you, I'm thinking perfectly clearly."
"Then explain it to me," you demanded, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "Because from where I'm standing, this makes about as much sense as trying to teach a troll how to read. Why on earth would you need a fake girlfriend? You're Na Jaemin! Half the school is in love with you! If you wanted a real girlfriend, you could probably just point at someone and they'd swoon into your arms!"
"That's actually part of the problem," he muttered, and was that... was that a hint of frustration in his voice?
You blinked. "What?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There's a girl. Yuna. Her family and mine... they move in the same circles. Have for generations. Old pureblood families, lots of money, all that tedious rubbish."
"Okay...?"
"And lately, she's gotten it into her head that we're meant to be together. That it's our destiny to unite our families, carry on the pureblood tradition, produce the next generation of perfectly bred wizarding heirs." His voice was slightly tinged with disgust. "She won't take no for an answer."
Despite yourself, despite the absolute insanity of this entire situation, you felt a bit of sympathy. "And you don't want that."
"I'd rather wrestle a Hungarian Horntail," he said flatly. "But she's not listening. Every time I tell her I'm not interested, she just smiles and says I'm playing hard to get. That I'll come around eventually."
"That's..." You searched for the appropriate words. "That's actually kind of disturbing."
"It's extremely disturbing," he agreed. "And I can't just tell her to fuck off, because our families... it's complicated. There's business deals, social connections, generations of intertwined pureblood nonsense. If I publicly reject her, it could cause all sorts of problems."
"So you need a girlfriend," you said slowly, finally starting to understand. "A visible reason why you can't be with her."
"Exactly." He gave you a hopeful look. "Someone who won't get caught up in the drama and then can walk away clean when it's over. Someone like you."
You covered your face with your hands and sighed. "This is still insane."
"Is it though?"
"Yes! Completely, utterly, absolutely insane!" You started pacing again. "Jaemin, in case it's escaped your notice, we can barely stand each other! We've barely had a conversation longer than five minutes that didn't involve you annoying me or me wanting to hex you! How exactly do you propose we convince anyone we're madly in love?"
"We don't have to be madly in love," he said. "Just... dating. You know, just act like a regular couple, sit together at meals, go to Hogsmeade on weekends. People see us together, word gets back to Yuna, she backs off. Simple."
"Simple?” you repeated incredulously. "You think any part of this is simple?"
"More simple than the alternative." His expression turned serious. "Look, I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice. But I'm running out of options here, and you're—" He paused. "You're the only person I can trust with this."
That brought you up short. “You barely know me."
"I know enough," he said quietly. "I know you're loyal. I know you'd do anything for your friends, you proved that when you made our deal. I know you're not interested in status or popularity or any of the things most people want from me. And I know that when this is over, you'll keep your word and walk away."
The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. This wasn't the smug, teasing Jaemin from the patrol or the cold, dismissive one from your earlier years. This was someone... genuine. Vulnerable, even.
"I think I need to sit down," you said faintly.
There was a convenient rock nearby and you sank down onto it, your head spinning.
"So just let me make sure I got it right," you said, staring out at the lake. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend. To protect you from an obsessive pureblood heiress who won't take no for an answer and so you won’t get trapped into a marriage of convenience.”
"That's the gist of it, yes."
"For how long?"
"A month? Maybe two at most."
"Two months?!" You whipped around to stare at him. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for two months? Are you completely off your rocker?!"
“Come on, two months isn’t even that long—"
"Two months is eight weeks! Sixty days! Over a thousand hours of my life spent pretending to be in love with you!" You were nearly hyperventilating now. You shot to your feet, pacing again.
“Again, no need to be madly in love—"
"And have you thought about the logistics of this?" You spun to face him. "Every girl in this castle is going to hate me! They already probably think we're shagging or something after your little breakfast stunt, and that was two minutes! Imagine two months of that! I'll need to go into witness protection!"
“I think that’s a bit of an overreaction.”
"Jaemin, people will actually want to murder me. There will be attempts on my life. I'll have to taste-test all my food for poison. Sleep with one eye open. Practice a good shield charm—"
"Nobody's going to try to murder you."
"You don’t know that!"
“And we wouldn't even be together the entire time," he continued as if you hadn't spoken. "Just... in public. Where people can see us. The rest of the time you can go back to pretending I don't exist."
You let out a laugh that bordered on hysteria. "Oh, well, that makes it so much better. Thank you for that generous concession."
"Are you finished panicking?" he asked mildly.
You glared at him. "No. No, I'm not finished. I'm just getting started. Do you have any idea how exhausting this sounds? How mortifying? I've spent six years perfecting the art of being invisible, and now you want me to voluntarily become the center of attention? The subject of gossip and speculation? Do you know what that will do to me?"
“Come on, it won’t be that bad.”
He seemed too casual about all this. It made you wonder if he did this sort of thing often. Not that it would be surprising, purebloods had weird customs that you could never begin to understand.
"Okay," you said slowly after a few seconds of gathering what little patience you had. "Okay. Let's say—and I'm not agreeing to anything—but let's say I did this. Don't you think people would find it a bit suspicious? Us dating out of nowhere? We've barely spoken in years. We're not friends or even friendly. People aren't stupid, Jaemin."
"We'll say we've been keeping it quiet," he said, like he'd already thought this through. "We didn’t want the attention, wanted to make sure it was real before we went public. No one will question it if we sell it right."
"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" You fixed him with a glare.
“Easy. We make it look like we can't keep our hands off each other. You know, hold hands, and that sort of thing. Make it look convincing."
“You want me to hold your hand?”
"Among other things."
"What does that even mean…?”
"Well, we'd have to play it convincingly," he said reasonably. "Couples don't just hold hands. They sit close. They touch. They..." He paused, his eyes glinting with amusement. "They kiss occasionally."
"KISS?!" The word came out as a strangled shriek. "You want me to kiss you?!"
"I mean, not right now necessarily—"
“Oh, you’re barking mad if you think I will kiss you!”
"Come on, y/n. It's just a bit of acting. Surely a clever girl like you can manage that?" His voice dropped, turning silky and persuasive.
You bristled slightly at the blatant flattery even as some traitorous part of you warmed at the compliment. "And what's in it for me? Besides the joy of being glared at by every girl in this castle and kissing your dumb face?"
"The fact that I won’t tell McGonagall about your little friend’s nocturnal escapade isn’t enough for you?” he reminded you.
You froze, shoulders tensing. "You're really going to hold me to that? For something this insane?"
"A deal's a deal. I helped you and nowI need your help."
"I don't know," you said slowly. "This is...it's a lot to ask."
"I know." He took another step closer, his eyes intent on yours. "But I'm asking anyway. I need your help, y/n. Please."
You had agreed to this. You had shaken his hand, accepted his help, promised him a favor. And now he was calling it in.
"This is blackmail," you said weakly.
"It's really not."
You stared at him, at his stupidly handsome face and his infuriating certainty, and felt the trap closing around you. You still could refuse, tell him to shove his favor and walk away. But then he could—would—tell McGonagall about Jo. And Jo would be expelled. And it would be all your fault.
"Fuck," you groaned.
"Is that a yes then? he said.
You truly hated everything about this.
Still, you heard yourself say, "Two months. That's it. And we need to set ground rules, boundaries. I'm not going to do anything that makes me uncomfortable."
Relief flashed across his face, there and gone so quickly you might have imagined it. "Okay, that’s fair."
"And when it's over, we go back to normal. No hard feelings. We just... end it and move on."
"Agreed." He held out a hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "So. Do we have a deal?"
You hesitated for a long moment, your heart pounding so hard you were certain he must be able to hear it. This was, without question, the most insane thing you had ever considered doing. It was reckless and impulsive and had the potential to blow up in your face in a truly spectacular fashion.
But looking up into Jaemin's eyes, seeing something that might have been hope or desperation or both, you found yourself reaching out and taking his hand anyway.
"Deal," you said, and sealed your fate for the second time in a week.
"Excellent." His smile was pure satisfaction. "I'll pick you up for breakfast tomorrow. Try to look a little pleased to see me and not like you want to murder me."
"I make no promises," you muttered.
As you walked back toward the castle, your mind whirling with the absolute insanity of what you'd just agreed to, one thought kept circling back:
Na Jaemin, Slytherin prince and general menace to your sanity, wanted you to be his fake girlfriend.
Jo was never going to believe this.
A waking nightmare—that was the only way to describe the days following the grand revelation of your supposed relationship.
It felt as though Hogwarts had contracted a plague, a virulent strain of "Y/N-and-Jaemin" fever that consumed everyone from the dungeons to the astronomy tower. No one could quite wrap their heads around the unlikely pairing of a Gryffindor nobody and the Slytherin prince, and that confusion turned into a collective obsession.
Everywhere you went, eyes followed. First-years openly gawked as you passed. Third-years whispered behind their hands, their eyes following your every move with ravenous curiosity. Even the portraits seemed more interested in your comings and goings, their painted heads swiveling to track your progress through the corridors.
Horrible as the attention was, the rumors were worse. Wild, baseless theories seemed to spawn from thin air, multiplying with the rapid, disgusting speed of Horklumps in a garden.
“They've been secretly dating since third year,” one voice hissed in the corridor, “before he was even popular, I heard.”
The theories only grew more ridiculous from there. According to a Ravenclaw, you had saved his life during a Quidditch match—or perhaps from a rogue curse. One Hufflepuff swore on her life she’d seen the two of you kissing in the Astronomy Tower a year ago. Most sinister of all were the whispers of blackmail or pranks, culminating in the one theory that nearly made you choke on your pumpkin juice: “Oh Merlin, do you think she’s pregnant?”
The attention was suffocating, oppressive, like being trapped in a greenhouse in the middle of summer with no windows and too many people pressing their faces against the glass. You couldn't breathe without someone noting it, vouldn't eat without a dozen pairs of eyes watching every bite, and couldn't so much as sneeze without someone speculating about whether Jaemin would find it endearing.
And as if the whole thing wasn’t a nightmare already, there was Jaemin himself. Whatever level of insufferable he had occupied before was nothing compared to this new persona: the devoted boyfriend that was attentive, affectionate, and clearly determined to make the charade as mortifying as humanly possible.
He'd materialize at your elbow between classes, his arrival heralded by the subtle scent of broom polish that never quite left his robes and that you were beginning to recognize with Pavlovian dread. He'd fall into step beside you with that athletic grace of his, his hand finding the small of your back with proprietary confidence.
“There you are,” he’d say, his voice carrying an affected breathlessness as if he’d been searching the entire castle rather than simply memorizing your schedule. “I was looking for you.”
“Were you,” came your flat reply, as you struggled to ignore the sudden weight of a hundred curious stares pinning you to the spot.
“Mm.” Without an ounce of hesitation, his hand would slide around your waist, hauling you firmly against his side. “Missed you in Charms. You disappeared before I could catch you.”
“I was in a rush,” you’d mutter, omitting the fact that the rush was specifically to escape him.
“I know.” His smile would be warm and intimate, a masterpiece of conviction. “Let’s walk together next time. I can’t stand being away from my princess for too long.”
A collective swoon would ripple through the nearby students at the display.
Mealtimes offered no reprieve. He'd bypass his usual spot at the Slytherin table entirely, crossing the Great Hall with long strides to slide onto the bench beside you at Gryffindor. The first time he'd done it, the entire Hall had gone silent, hundreds of heads swiveling to watch as Na Jaemin—too cool for cross-house fraternization—planted himself among the lions.
“Morning, princess,” he’d announce, his voice projecting just far enough for half the table to catch. A casual kiss to your temple followed, delivered with such affection that you nearly lost your balance on the bench.
A sharp kick from Jo connected with your shin under the table. Smile, her wide-eyed expression screamed. You’re supposed to be in love with him, remember?
Obediently, you’d attempt a smile. Though it likely looked more like a pained grimace, Jaemin seemed satisfied enough. His arm draped across your shoulders as he reached for the orange juice, acting as if this were the most natural routine in the world.
Every meal followed the same suffocating pattern. He was always there, a solid line of warmth pressed against your side. Beneath the table, his thigh would brush against yours, making you hyperaware of his every shift. Often, his hand would rest on your knee, his thumb tracing absent patterns that felt far too intimate for public consumtion. Occasionally he’d lean in, murmuring something pointless like “Pass the salt” or “Your hair looks nice today” into your ear—but to the rest of the room, it looked like he was whispering sweet nothings.
The Great Hall devoured every crumb of the spectacle.
But while the general student body watched with wide-eyed fascination, you were forced to contend with a far more dangerous audience: the inner circle.
Jaemin’s friends were not merely students; they were the closest thing Hogwarts had to a royal court. To exist within the castle walls was to know them by reputation—a collection of wealthy, beautiful purebloods who navigated the drafty corridors with the effortless entitlement of aristocrats. Yet, observing them from the safety of the Gryffindor table was entirely different from being the direct target of their scrutiny.
Giselle led the first offensive.
She didn't walk so much as glide, approaching the Gryffindor table like an elegant snake. Everything about her was designed to intimidate, from the lethal sharpness of her cheekbones to the glossy waves of hair that fell perfectly down her back. Even her uniform defied the rules; her tie was knotted into an oversized, rebellious bow that no prefect would ever have the courage to cite as a dress-code violation.
“Jaemin,” she purred, ignoring your existence entirely as she draped herself against the table. “We’ve missed you at breakfast. The Slytherin table is positively bereft without your presence.”
“I’m sure you’re all managing,” Jaemin replied, his tone conversational and mild. He didn't move his arm from its proprietary position across your shoulders.
“Barely.” Only then did her eyes slide toward you in a slow, assessing sweep that made you feel like a piece of furniture being appraised for auction. “And this must be the famous girlfriend. Y/N, was it?”
“Yes,” you managed, forced to swallow against the sudden dryness in your throat to keep your voice from cracking.
“Mm.” Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “How… unexpected. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken before, have we? What house are you in again?”
The question was a blatant insult, considering you were currently sitting at the Gryffindor table draped in scarlet and gold.
“Gryffindor,” you ground out through gritted teeth.
“Oh, right. Of course.” She paused to examine her dark green nails. “I always have trouble keeping track of the… quieter students. You must be one of those studious types. The ones who hide in the library all day.”
Boring. Forgettable. Beneath notice. The implication was clear. Beside you, Jo’s hand whitened as her grip tightened around her fork.
“I suppose so,” you said, choosing caution over a confrontation you weren't prepared to win.
“Cute.” Giselle’s smile widened, though it never reached her eyes. “Jaemin’s never been much for books, have you, Jaem? More of a... social creature. Though I’m sure you two have found something in common to keep things interesting.”
Beside you, Jaemin remained a statue of calm, taking a slow sip of his tea as if he were watching a particularly dull play rather than a verbal execution.
The pressure didn't let up as the days went on. A few days later, Changmin intercepted the two of you in the crowded corridor between Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Towering and broad-shouldered, he possessed the rugged, athletic build of a seasoned Beater. He didn't need words to dominate the space; his presence alone caused younger students to scatter like leaves. When he looked at you, his smile was so predatory and sharp it made you think of a wolf finally closing in on a scent it had been tracking for miles.
"So this is her," Changmin said, his eyes traveling over you with clinical detachment. "Have to say, mate, when you said you were seeing someone, I pictured… I don't know. Someone different."
Jaemin’s voice remained light, though his eyes turned piercing. "What do you mean?"
"Just… different." A shrug followed, along with a dismissive flick of his gaze. "No offense, of course."
"Of course," you echoed through a tight jaw.
"It’s just surprising, is all." Changmin gestured vaguely with one hand. "You’ve always gone for a certain type, and she’s… well, not that."
Not pretty enough, you knew he meant.
Jaemin’s arm hooked around you, pulling you into his side. "She’s exactly my type," he countered. "Perfect, actually."
His words were meant to be reassuring but they'd just made you feel more like a prop in whatever game he was playing.
A shift in strategy occurred by the following week. The subtle snubs evolved into a coordinated siege as Changmin and Giselle began appearing together, a united front of immaculate hair, expensive robes, and thinly veiled hostility.
They seemed to materialize in every common space you frequented, armed with false smiles and poisonous pleasantries. Every interaction was a minefield; every question was a calculated probe designed to expose the fraying seams in your story.
Their interrogation didn't stop at the legitimacy of your relationship. They began taking aim at the very fabric of your life... Quite literally.
"Those robes," Giselle remarked during a chance encounter in the corridor, her eyes sweeping over your silhouette with a look of practiced pity. "Are they... vintage? They have that distinctive, worn quality. That 'hand-me-down' aesthetic."
The fabric felt suddenly heavy and scratchy against your skin. They had been your mother's, mended with care and kept clean through sheer effort, but they lacked the shimmer of new silk. Heat flooded your face, a hot prickle of shame you hated yourself for feeling.
"They're fine," you muttered, clutching your books tighter to your chest.
"Oh, I'm sure they're perfectly serviceable," she added, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Not everyone has the luxury of replacing their wardrobe every season, after all."
Changmin leaned across the table, his expression open and conversational, though his eyes remained predatory.
"So, what does your father do for work?" he asked, swirling the pumpkin juice in his goblet as if it were a fine vintage. "My father sits on the Wizengamot, of course. And Giselle’s family runs one of the largest potions corporations in Europe. It's always so interesting to hear what other families do."
"He works for the Ministry," you said shortly, keeping your eyes fixed on your plate.
"Oh? How prestigious. Which department? International Magical Cooperation? The Auror Office?"
"Magical Maintenance."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to suffocate. You didn't need to look up to feel the shockwave of silent communication passing between them. You could practically hear the click of the mental locks falling into place: the suppressed smirks, the shared glances, and the smug, knowing silence that broadcast exactly what they thought of your family’s status. You weren't just the 'wrong type' for Jaemin; in their eyes, you were a glitch in the social order.
"Very honest work, I’m sure," Giselle added finally, her voice carrying just enough to be heard at the neighboring tables. "Someone has to keep the toilets functioning."
Jo who'd been next to you the whole time, bolted upright, her face flushed a dangerous shade of scarlet. You moved instinctively, grabbing her arm and hauling her back into her seat before she could cause a scene.
The real ambush, however, didn't come until Friday evening.
You'd been in the library trying to calculate the magical decay of a complex curse for your Arithmancy assignment. Beside you, Jaemin had been hovering for the better part of an hour, his presence a persistent distraction.
"If you carry the nine there," he whispered, his long finger hovering over your string of equations, "doesn't the probability of a backfire increase by 12%?"
"No, Jaemin," you huffed, rubbing your temples where a dull ache was beginning to bloom. "This isn't Divination. You cannot simply guess your way through Arithmancy. Seven is a powerful magical prime, but in an inverted sequence, its weight is halved. I am trying to ensure you don't accidentally liquefy your own bones during the NEWTs."
"Right, right. Half the weight, double the trouble," he murmured. He wasn't even pretending to look at the numbers anymore; his gaze was fixed on the way you were biting your lip in concentration. "Explain the Pythagorean bridge to me again? That was very sexy."
A sharp retort about his lack of focus was halfway up your throat when the shadows fell over the table.
Giselle and Changmin. They were flanked by Sungchan, another Quidditch type you vaguely recognized, and a fourth person whose presence made the air leave your lungs in a rush.
Yuna.
She stood there, ice-blonde and perfectly beautiful. You felt Jaemin’s posture stiffen beside you. You hadn't known. He’d never mentioned she was part of his circle, that she was this close to the people he spent every waking hour with. The "fake" part of your relationship suddenly felt dangerously flimsy.
"Study date?" Giselle asked, sliding into the seat directly across from you. "I’m sorry, is that a textbook, Jaemin? I thought you used those as coasters."
Jaemin didn't look up from your parchment. "We're just working."
"It’s Friday night," Sungchan cut in, leaning heavily against a nearby bookshelf. "The guys are sneaking kegs of firewhisky into the common room as we speak. There’s a party starting in ten minutes, mate. We’ve been looking for you for an hour."
Yuna stepped forward, her dark eyes narrowing as she focused on you for the first time.
"Y/N, right?" she said, her voice a soft, melodic contrast to the tension. "What exactly have you done to him? Jaemin hasn't missed a Friday night since third year. And yet, here he is, looking at... what is that? Arithmancy?"
"It’s important for the exams," you said, your voice sounding steadier than you felt. "And he's actually quite good at it when he tries."
A snort of pure skepticism escaped Yuna. "Since when is calculating the weight of a hex more entertaining than a party?"
"Since I realized I was failing," Jaemin interjected smoothly, reaching out to lace his fingers with yours atop the table. You knew it was a calculated move, a public display for the one person who mattered. "Y/N pointed out that if I don't pass the Arithmancy boards, I won't be able to take the advanced Theo-Magic track next year. She's very persuasive when she wants to be."
"Persuasive, huh?" Giselle repeated, though her eyes flicked toward Yuna to gauge her reaction. “I can only imagine the things she can do, if she’s managed to make you skip every single party since you started dating.”
Giselle’s implication was blatant, dripping with enough tawdry subtext to make your cheeks flame. You looked at Jaemin, waiting for him to shred her with his notorious silver tongue. Instead, he remained maddeningly static. Only the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his irritation.
“Did you know there’s actually a betting pool regarding how long youll two last?” Yuna asked, her tone conversational, as if she were discussing the Quidditch scores than your social execution. “The smart money says two weeks. That is, if the novelty doesn’t wear off by Tuesday.”
The news hit your stomach with a cold, hollow thud. “There’s a what?”
“Don’t look so scandalized.” she waved a hand, her emerald ring catching the light. “It’s nothing personal, darling. People adore a spectacle, and this is a bewildering one. Jaemin has spent years as the prize everyone was chasing, and then he suddenly chooses...”
She trailed off. Her silence was more eloquent than any insult.
"The weird girl who hides in corners," Sungchan supplied helpfully. "No offense."
"Loads taken," you snapped before you could stop yourself.
“So defensive.” Yuna chuckled cruelly.
“That’s enough,” Jaemin said. His voice lost its playful lilt, replaced by a low edge. It was the sound of a predator deciding a conversation had reached its conclusion.
“We’re just teasing, Jaem. Don’t be so sensitive.” Giselle stood, smoothing her robes. “If Y/N is going to be part of our inner circle, she’ll need a thicker skin. We aren't known for our gentleness.”
“I am dating Jaemin,” you said, your voice finally steady. “Not applying to be your friend.”
The temperature at the table dropped approximately ten degrees.
“Well,” Yuna said, her delicate features arranging themselves into an expression of theatrical, wide-eyed surprise. “It seems the little bird has claws after all."
They had successfully poked at the seams of your composure and were now departing before the scene became truly messy.
"A little parting advice, Y/N," Giselle said, pausing as she turned. "The more defensive you become, the more it appears as though you’re hiding something. And in this school, secrets are the only currency that matters."
Then they were gone. The only sound left was the rustle of their expensive robes fading into the library stacks. You sat there, shaking, while Jaemin’s fingers remained locked with yours.
“They’re foul,” you muttered, the sharp thud of your textbook echoing too loudly against the mahogany table. “Your friends are actually vipers, Jaemin.”
“I know.” His reply was flat, lacking any of the heat you were looking for. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” You yanked your hand away from his, suddenly angry at him. “Because you just sat there like a statue. You let them say all that, and you didn't even blink.”
“And what did you want me to do? Start a row in the middle of the library?”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe defend me!” The words burst out, earning a sharp, hawk-like “Shh!” from Madam Pince.
You leaned in, dropping your voice to a fierce whisper. “Tell them they’re being cruel. Tell them to sod off! But you just sat there looking like you were enjoying the show.”
Jaemin didn't answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as he studied you with those dark, unreadable eyes.
“If I get too defensive, they’ll know something’s up,” he said eventually. “You heard Giselle, she's looking for a reaction. That’s what they’re all doing. They're looking for proof that we’re lying. The more I protest, the more suspicious they get.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit there and take it?” You felt a hot sting behind your eyes and hated yourself for it. “I have to let them slag me off and talk rubbish about my family, all to keep your precious cover story alive?”
“Just for a bit,” he insisted. “Once they’re convinced it’s real, they’ll back off. But right now, they’re testing us. They’re testing you. And if we want this to work, you have to pass.”
“I’m trying to pass the bloody test!” you hissed, your voice rising again.
“Trying, yeah.” He leaned forward, his shadow falling over your parchment. “But you’re not being very convincing, Y/N.”
Your face flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you always look uncomfortable.” He ran a hand through his hair, his composure finally fraying. “You look miserable, Y/N. Constantly. Like being near me is a form of torture.”
“Well, it isn’t exactly a holiday,” you shot back.
“I know this isn’t ideal,” he continued, ignoring the jab. “I know you didn't want this. But we made a deal, and if you keep acting like I’m a Dementor every time I come within a foot of you, no one is going to believe this.”
“So what? You want me to swoon? Hang off your arm like a mindless doll?”
“I want you to look like you can at least tolerate me,” he cut in, his tone sharpening. “I want you to stop flinching when I hold your hand. Lean into me instead of going rigid as a board. Smile, Y/N. A real one, not that grimace you do when people are watching.”
“That’s the best I can do.”
“Well, your best isn’t good enough.” He looked at the library door, then back at you. “Giselle asked me why you’re so tense all the time. I told her you were shy about public affection, but that excuse only works for so long.”
You stared at him, your chest tight with a cocktail of fury.
“Maybe you should’ve picked someone who actually wanted to be your girlfriend.”
“I picked you because I thought you were smart enough to pull this off, but if you can't... ” He trailed off, shaking his head. "If you can’t even manage to stay in the same room as me without looking like you’d rather be drowning in the lake, the whole thing falls apart.”
"So will you be satisfied if I start kissing the floor you walk on? " you asked bitterly.
“It’d be a start,” he said simply. “Look, I know they’re awful. But you need to try harder. Stop pulling away. Stop acting like my touch is burning you.”
“It is burning me,” you muttered. You didn't mean to say it out loud, and you immediately wished you could swallow the words back down.
Jaemin’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”
“Nothing.” You stood up abruptly, gathering your things with fumbling hands. “Forget it. I’ll try harder, alright? I’ll be more convincing. I’ll smile and lean in and act like I’m absolutely mad about you. Is that what you want?”
“Y/N, wait—”
“I’m going back to the common room.” You slung your bag over your shoulder, refusing to look at him. “I’ll see you at breakfast. I’ll be sure to put on a proper show.”
“That’s not what I—”
But you didn’t stay to hear the rest. You turned and walked away, your vision blurring slightly as you navigated between the towering bookshelves, Madam Pince's disapproving glare following you all the way to the exit.
Behind you, you heard Jaemin sigh, but he didn’t call after you.
Just as well. You needed to be anywhere but near him.
Expectations of a smooth public performance next morning were shattered the moment Jaemin actually appeared. You had braced yourself for the usual, the effortless slide onto the bench, the heavy weight of his arm claiming your space, and that charming attitude that suggested your library row had been nothing more than a minor blip.
Instead, the Jaemin who approached the table looked like he’d gone several rounds with a rogue Bludger. His tie was a shambles, hanging loose around his collar, and his hair was a chaotic nest of blonde strands as if he’d spent the early hours of the morning dragging his hands through it in frustration. He didn't sit, but lingered at the edge of the bench with a strange, jittery energy.
"Can we talk?"
The question was a mere breath under the noise of clattering plates and the morning owl post.
You looked back down at your porridge. "About what?"
"Yesterday." He sounded nervous, not the polished Pureblood prince, but a boy who was genuinely out of his depth. "Please?"
Jo delivered a sharp kick to your shin under the table. Why did she keep doing that?! You winced, the sting jolting you out of your stubborn trance. Against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding.
"Fine. Where?"
"Third floor. The corridor by the one-eyed witch statue." He checked his watch, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the wood of the table. "Ten o'clock?"
"That’s oddly specific," you muttered, finally meeting his eyes.
"Just—trust me on this. Please?"
There was that word again. Please. It was a far cry from the boy who had told you your best wasn't good enough yesterday. And because you were apparently a glutton for punishment, you felt your resolve crumble.
"Ten o'clock," you agreed.
He didn't offer a smirk or a wink for the benefit of the watching Great Hall. He simply gave a tight nod and sat down, keeping a conspicuous gap between your shoulder and his.
Stone walls and guttering torches made the third floor just as drab as the rest of the castle. A few portraits dozed in their frames, and the statue of the one-eyed witch stood sentinel at the far end, her painted eyes seeming to follow your every move with an almost unsettling intensity.
Five minutes of waiting had already passed, which was roughly four minutes and fifty seconds longer than it took to start feeling like a total idiot.
Just as the urge to bolt back to the safety of the common room became overwhelming, the rhythmic scuff of boots echoed against the flagstones. Jaemin rounded the corner, his usual swagger replaced by a stiff gait. You drew a breath, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove this clandestine little meeting, but he hoisted a hand to silence you.
"Before you lay into me," he started, coming to a halt just out of arm’s reach, "I want to apologize. Properly. For yesterday."
The anger you’d been carefully stoking for the last twelve hours flickered and died, leaving you feeling strangely hollow. "Oh."
"I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right." He dragged a hand through his hair, a sign of genuine nerves that made him more like a tired teenager. "You’re right. This situation is mental. My friends are absolute vultures, and I’ve been asking you to stand in the middle of the pack without giving you a single bit of support."
"I mean... yeah." You leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to hide how much that small bit of validation actually mattered. "That has been the arrangement so far, hasn't it?"
"Well, it’s a rubbish arrangement." He stepped into your personal space, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that felt far too real. "I want to make this bearable for you. But for that to happen, I think we need to... practice."
"Practice?"
"At being comfortable," he explained, as if he were simply suggesting a bit of extra Quidditch drills. "You said my touching burns. Not literally, I hope, but—" He gestured between the two of you. "There’s this tension. This massive wall between us. People can see it, Y/N. It’s written all over you."
"Right. So your grand plan is..."
"Exposure therapy," he said. "We need to get accustomed to one another. And we need to do it without an audience watching your every flinch."
A snort almost escaped you as you processed the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. It felt like a scene ripped straight from one of those tawdry novels Jo kept hidden in her trunk, the ones with titles like The Warlock’s Wicked Whim.
But beneath the embarrassment sat a cold, hard logic you couldn't ignore. Every time his skin brushed yours, your heart panicked. You went rigid, your breath hitched, and your pulse became a frantic drumbeat in your ears. If you could feel that visceral wrongness vibrating through your bones, then vipers like Giselle and Yuna could definitely tell too.
"And you want to do this here?" A wary glance down the drafty corridor followed, half-expecting a gaggle of students to peek around the corner, eager for a glimpse of the castle's most talked-about couple. "What if someone comes by?"
"They won't." Jaemin started walking again, gesturing for you to follow. "That’s the whole point of meeting on this floor."
Confusion was about to mount into another argument when he came to a sudden halt in front of a completely unremarkable stretch of stone wall. Without a word, he began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, his brow furrowed in a look of intense concentration.
For a moment, you just watched him, convinced that he'd finally cracked under the pressure and that this whole fake relationship scheme had driven him round the bend. You were seconds away from suggesting a firm dose of Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey when the masonry began to ripple.
Solid stone blurred and shimmered like the surface of the Black Lake under a midday sun. Then, with a low, tectonic grind, an ornate wooden door bled into existence.
Your mouth fell open. You'd heard of this, of course. Read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History'. But reading about something and seeing it happen right in front of your eyes were two very different things.
"The Room of Requirement," you breathed, awe temporarily overriding your general state of irritation.
"The Room of Requirement," Jaemin confirmed, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice. "I figured if we're going to do this, we should do it somewhere we won't be interrupted."
"Unless you don't want to?" he asked, and there was a carefulness to the question, an unspoken offer of an out. "I know this is... I know it's a lot to ask. But I really think it'll help. I do."
You stared at the door, your mind whirling. This was insane. Completely, utterly, certifiably insane. Practicing feeling comfortable with Na Jaemin in a magical room that appeared out of thin air? This was your life now? This was what your Hogwarts experience had come to?
But what was the alternative? Continue on as you had been, flinching and grimacing your way through this charade until even the most gullible Hufflepuff could see right through you? Let Jaemin's awful friends pick and prod at you until you broke?
No. No, as much as it pained you to admit it, Jaemin was right. If you were going to make it through this with your dignity remotely intact, you had to stop being the weak link. You needed to become a better liar.
And if that meant subjecting yourself to Merlin knows what kind of 'practice' in a secret magic room... well. So be it.
“I swear if this is some kind of prank…”
"It's not." He pushed open the door, warm, inviting light spilling out into the corridor. "I promise."
The moment you crossed the threshold, you felt a strange sensation wash over you. Like stepping into a warm bath after a long, cold day. The room was...not at all what you expected. It was smaller, cozier. There was a plush sofa against one wall, a few cushy armchairs arranged around a low coffee table. The lighting was soft, emanating from no discernible source, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla and old books. It felt safe, somehow. Comforting. Which only served to put you more on edge.
"So," you said, crossing your arms over your chest as the door swung shut behind you with a soft, final-sounding click. "You brought me here to practice. Practice what, exactly?"
Jaemin had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Intimacy."
"I'm sorry, what?”
"Not—not like that," he said quickly, and was that a hint of a flush on his cheeks? Surely not. Na Jaemin didn't get flustered. It must be a trick of the light. "I mean... being close.. and comfortable enough to casually touch each other. You know, the things couples do in public that you keep shying away from."
"You make it sound so simple," you muttered, feeling a blush rise to your own cheeks despite your best efforts.
"It’s not that big of a deal." He gestured to the sofa. "Look, we're going to have to spend the next two months being physically affectionate in front of the entire school. And right now, every time I so much as brush against you, you look like you'd rather be facing a herd of centaurs. So we need to practice. To make it feel normal."
Normal. What a ludicrous concept. There was nothing normal about this. But you bit back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. You’d agreed to this madness, and backing out now would only make you look more pathetic.
"Right. So you want me to get used to you pawing at me."
"I do not paw—" He cut himself off, taking a visible breath to steady himself. "I want you to get used to me touching you in a completely respectful, non-pawing way.
You stared at him and he stared back. You could practically hear the seconds ticking by, feel the weight of the impasse settling over the room.
"Fine," you said at last, the word feeling like it was being dragged out of you with fish hooks. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"
His shoulders relaxed, the tension in his jaw easing just a fraction. "Just… come sit with me. We'll start slow."
He settled onto the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. You approached warily, lowering yourself onto the opposite end and putting as much distance between your bodies as physically possible. Jaemin looked at the three-foot chasm of empty space and raised an eyebrow.
"You're going to have to get closer than that."
"This is close."
"You’re barely sitting on the couch."
"Baby steps," you muttered.
"We don't have time for baby steps." But his voice was gentle, coaxing. "Come on. I don't bite."
That remains to be seen, you thought. But despite every instinct screaming at you to run, you scooted closer. Then a bit closer still. You stopped in the middle of the sofa, a foot of space still separating you, but closer than you'd ever voluntarily been to him outside of your mandated public displays.
"Better," Jaemin said, and the soft, approving lilt in his voice sent a traitorous flutter through your stomach. "Now, I'm going to put my arm around you. Like I do at meals. And I want you to try not to tense up. Okay?"
You nodded, not trusting your voice not to shake.
Slowly, broadcasting his movements like he was approaching a skittish animal, he lifted his arm, draping it across the back of the sofa. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, the weight of it startling in its warmth, its solidity.
Instantly, you felt your entire body go rigid, your muscles locking up like you'd been hit with a full body bind curse. Every nerve ending was suddenly alight, hyper-aware of the exact dimensions of his palm, the precise pressure of each individual finger.
"You’re doing it again," he murmured. His voice was much closer than you’d expected. "Tensing up."
"I know," you gritted out. "I’m trying."
"Here." His other hand hovered just shy of your arm, hesitant. "Just breathe. Focus on that."
Breathe. Right. You could manage that.
You sucked in a breath, held it for a count of three, and forced it out. You repeated the cycle until the iron bands of your muscles began to slacken, slowly adjusting to the foreign sensation of him.
"Good," Jaemin whispered. "See? Not so terrible."
"It’s weird," you countered. It was unsettling and entirely too much. "You’re weird. This whole thing is mental."
"Noted." There was a definite streak of amusement in his tone now. "But you aren't flinching. That’s progress."
He was right. The initial shock of the contact was fading, replaced by a strange sort of...not comfort, exactly. Awareness, maybe. You were intensely conscious of the weight of his arm, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed next to you.
The feeling wasn't the searing, blistering heat you'd stupidly mentioned yesterday in a moment of unthinking frustration. But it was a lot. Intimate in a way you weren't at all prepared for, in a way that made your heart thud traitorously against your rib cage.
"Okay," Jaemin said after the silence had stretched out just long enough to teeter on the edge of uncomfortable. "Next step. I'm going to pull you a bit closer. Like I do when we're walking to class."
"Do you really need to narrate every little thing?" You couldn't help the note of exasperation that crept into your voice.
"I'm trying not to spook you."
"I'm not a skittish woodland creature."
"Could've fooled me," he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.
Before you could formulate a properly scathing response, he drew you firmly into his side. Your instinct was to lock up again, but you fought it. This close, the scent of him was overwhelming—clean linen, and a subtle hint of broomstick polish.
It was disorienting. Overwhelming. But...not entirely unpleasant, if you were being honest with yourself. Which you absolutely were not going to be, because that way lay madness.
"Are you okay?" Jaemin asked, and his voice lacked his usual arrogance, sounding instead like he was actually concerned about your boundaries.
For a dizzying second, you wondered if there was more to him than the unflappable, silver-tongued Slytherin. Was this just as strange and unsettling for him? You pushed the thought away immediately. Thinking of Jaemin as a real person with real nerves was a one-way trip to jagged rocks and shark-infested waters. He was a means to an end. A necessary evil.
"It's fine," you said, and if your voice came out a little breathier than usual, a little less steady, well. That was nobody's business but your own. “Not terrible, I suppose."
"High praise, coming from you," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, could practically feel the curve of his lips where they brushed against your hair.
You chose to ignore that, focusing instead on keeping your breathing steady and your heartbeat under control.
Time passed, seconds or minutes or hours, you couldn't quite tell. The room had narrowed down to the weight of Jaemin's arm around you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the soft sounds of your breathing intermingling in the quiet room.
The whole thing was almost peaceful, provided you let yourself forget exactly who he was and why you were here.
“How much longer do we have to do this?” you asked eventually, when the silence and the sensation started to feel like too much.
Jaemin shrugged, the movement jostling you slightly. “Until it feels normal, I guess. Or at least not horribly awkward.”
You let out a long sigh. “We’re going to be here a while, then.”
He laughed, the sound warm and resonant in the small room. “Probably. But look on the bright side—at least the couch is comfortable, right?”
You made a noncommittal noise, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an agreement.
“Just think,” he continued, a teasing lilt returning to his voice, “a few more of these sessions and we’ll be the most convincing couple Hogwarts has ever seen. We’ll put the real ones to shame.”
“Be still my beating heart,” you deadpanned. “What a glittering future.”
“We’ll practice the basics for now. Then we’ll work our way up.”
“Work our way up to what, exactly?” You regretted the question the moment it left your lips. His arm tightened slightly, and his voice took on a silkier quality.
“Well,” he said, “eventually, we’re going to have to practice kissing.”
You practically launched yourself off the cushions at that. You scrambled to the very edge of the sofa, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The distance between you was back to a yawning three feet in a matter of seconds.
He’d mentioned kissing when he proposed this mad arrangement in the first place but you genuinely thought he’d been trying to ruffle you. The prospect of actually kissing Na Jaemin was so far outside your comfort zone it felt like another planet.
“Absolutely not!” you gasped, your eyes wide with genuine alarm. “Not happening. Not in this lifetime.”
Jaemin stared at you, his arm still draped over the empty space where your shoulder had been a moment ago. He looked startled by your sudden flight, but it only took a second for that lazy amusement to crawl back onto his face.
“It’s going to come up, Y/N,” he said, dropping his arm and leaning back comfortably, as if he hadn't just suggested something world-ending. “Couples kiss. Especially 'new' couples who are supposedly mad about each other. If the first time I kiss you is in front of the entire Great Hall and you look like you’re about to be sick, the game is up.”
“I get it,” you snapped, your face feeling like it was being held over a Bunsen burner. “I get it. But we’re not—I mean, we don’t need to do that. It’s way too much.”
“We don’t have to do it today,” he agreed, his voice surprisingly gentle as he watched you vibrate with nerves at the end of the sofa. “We’ll work up to it slowly. Baby steps, remember?”
“I hate this,” you mumbled, slowly sinking back into the upholstery, though you stayed firmly out of arm's reach.
“I know,” he said, his eyes tracking you with a look that was far too observant for your liking. “But you’re getting much better at pretending you don't.”
The witching hour, that eerie stretch of night when all respectable souls should be tucked safely in their beds, found you instead padding down the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, your dressing gown pulled tight around you and your wand tip illuminating the way.
It was a terrible idea, really, wandering the castle at this hour. You were a prefect, for Merlin's sake. You knew the rules better than most. Out of bed after curfew, risking detention or worse, all for what? A craving for something sweet that couldn't wait until the civilized hours of morning?
But sleep had proven elusive, your mind refusing to quiet, insisting instead on replaying the events of the past week in excruciatingly vivid detail. The practice sessions with Jaemin in the Room of Requirement featured most prominently, of course. The steadily shrinking distance between your bodies, the way his touch was beginning to feel almost... familiar.
You were making progress. Which was precisely the problem.
So now, at an absolutely unreasonable hour, you found yourself seeking solace in the kitchens. If you were going to be awake anyway, you might as well have a biscuit to keep you company.
You reached the portrait of the fruit bowl, tucked away in a corridor no one ever noticed, and tickled the pear. It squirmed and giggled, as it always did, before transforming into a door handle.
The kitchens were a welcome oasis of warmth, the vaulted ceilings echoing with the industrious sounds of house-elves going about their nightly duties—kneading dough for the morning's bread, organizing the pantry, scrubbing the massive cauldrons until they shone. They looked up as you entered, surprise evident on their wrinkled little faces.
"Miss!" squeaked a particularly diminutive elf, hurrying over to you, her tea towel toga flapping about her knees. "Miss should be in bed! Is Miss hungry? Was something not to Miss's liking at dinner?"
"No, no," you assured her quickly, crouching down to her level with a smile. "Dinner was wonderful, as always. I just couldn't sleep and thought a little something sweet might help."
The elf's large eyes widened further, a delighted smile stretching her mouth. "Oh yes, yes! Dipsy can help! We has treacle tart left over from dinner, and chocolate biscuits, and Dipsy can bring fresh cream for Miss's tea—"
"Just a biscuit or two would be lovely," you said. "And maybe a bit of that apple tart, if there's any left? I don't want to make extra work for you."
"Is no work at all!" Dipsy insisted, already scurrying off toward the enormous cooling racks that lined one wall. "Is Dipsy's pleasure to serve! Miss sit, sit! Dipsy will bring tea!"
And so you found yourself perched on a stool at one of the long preparation tables, watching with a mix of amusement and awe as Dipsy and two other elves fluttered about, assembling a plate of biscuits and tart and a pot of fragrant, steaming tea.
"Thank you," you said sincerely as they presented you with your midnight feast. "This is exactly what I needed."
Dipsy beamed, her bat-like ears quivering with pleasure. "Miss is always so kind, so polite! Not like some students, so rude and demanding they is. But Miss is a good student, yes she is!"
You felt a pang at that, remembering all the times you'd seen your classmates treating the house-elves like mere servants. "You work so hard," you told her. "The least I can do is be polite."
The ancient elf in the tea towel toga shuffled up then, setting a small pot of jam next to your plate. "Special raspberry preserves," he croaked. "Made 'em myself. Good for what ails you, they is."
"That's very kind, thank you," you said, touched by the gesture.
You passed the next quarter hour in the warm bustle of the kitchens, savoring your illicit snack while the elves worked around you, peppering you with questions—did you need anything else, what did you think of the new recipe they'd tried at lunch, would you like to take some extra tarts back to your dormitory? It was soothing, the cheerful chatter and clatter, so different from the brooding silence of your room.
By the time you'd drained your teacup and consumed a frankly inadvisable number of biscuits, you were feeling considerably more yourself.
"Thank you," you said again as you rose to leave. "I feel much better."
"Miss is welcome anytime!" Dipsy assured you earnestly. "Dipsy is always here if Miss needs a little pick-me-up!"
You left with a smile and a promise to visit again, slipping back out into the dark and drafty corridor.
It was deserted, as you'd expected. Or so you thought, until a voice emerged from the shadows some twenty feet ahead, stopping you in your tracks.
"Out for a midnight stroll?"
You nearly leapt out of your skin, your wand raised defensively before you'd even fully registered the words. But then a familiar figure stepped into a pool of torchlight, and your racing heart stuttered for an entirely different reason.
Jaemin. Even in the middle of the bloody night, he managed to look put together, his school robes immaculate and his prefect badge gleaming. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, and there was a glint in his eye that might have been amusement.
"Merlin's beard, Jaemin," you hissed, lowering your wand. "Are you trying to get hexed? You can't just lurk in the dark like some sort of—villain!"
"I'm not lurking, I'm patrolling," he countered. "It's my job to accost students out of bed after hours. Which, need I remind you, you currently are."
"I’m a prefect too," you shot back, though you were painfully aware that your current attire—dressing gown, fluffy slippers, and basically a bird's next on your head—didn’t exactly command authority.
"A prefect who's very much off duty," Jaemin pointed out, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made you acutely conscious of your bare legs and messy hair. "And wandering the castle at two in the morning, no less."
You crossed your arms, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. "I couldn't sleep. Not that it's any of your business, but if you must know, I was hungry. I went to the kitchens."
"The kitchens," he repeated slowly.
"Yes, the kitchens. You're familiar with the concept, I assume? Big room, lots of elves, food comes from there?"
Jaemin, looking awfully like he was trying not to smile, said again, "You went to the kitchens. At two a.m. In your dressing gown."
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt a little. "Yes, that's what I just said. Is there an echo here I'm not aware of?"
"Y/n y/l/n, prefect and notorious rule-follower, snuck out of bed and all the way down to the kitchens in the dead of night...for a biscuit?"
"What, like you've never had a late-night snack craving?"
"No, I can't say I have." He was definitely fighting a smile now. "I'm just surprised. I didn't take you for the type."
"Yes, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," you muttered, brushing past him to continue your trek back to Gryffindor tower. To your great chagrin, Jaemin fell into step beside you, long legs eating up the distance effortlessly.
"And here I was thinking I had you all figured out... Now I come to find you have a dark side. Late-night wanderings, clandestine trips to the kitchen...so scandalous. Merlin only knows what other secrets you're hiding behind that prim prefect exterior."
"Oh, yes," you agreed dryly. "I'm a woman of endless mysteries. Careful, Na, or I'll file you away in my mental 'too curious for his own good' cabinet with all my other deep, dark secrets."
It was possibly the most ridiculous thing you'd ever said, made all the more absurd by the fact that you were padding through the halls in slippers, being relentlessly followed by the boy you were supposed to be pretending to date. Who was going to write your biography one day? They'd have a field day with this.
"So why are you lurking about in the dark, anyway?" you asked, feeling the need to shift focus away from your own nocturnal misadventures. "Isn't this usually when you abscond to the grounds to catch hapless rule-breakers?"
"Wasn't in the mood," Jaemin said with a shrug. "Thought I'd switch it up tonight. Catch hapless biscuit thieves instead."
You shot him a withering look. "I'm not a thief. The elves gave me those biscuits fair and square. And anyway, you're one to talk about avoiding the grounds. What, did our last excursion awaken a sudden fear of the dark?"
"Hardly." A pause. "Just wasn't the same without my favorite patrol partner, I suppose."
Your steps faltered a bit at that, and you hoped desperately that the darkness was enough to hide the flush you could feel creeping up your neck. Favorite patrol partner. He had to be mocking you. Nevermind that he'd said it almost...softly. Sincerely, even. A trick of the acoustics in this drafty old castle, no doubt.
“I’m flattered,” you managed, arranging your face into an expression of arch disdain. "Though I think we both know I'm likely the only patrol partner you’ve terrorized on the grounds. Bit of a low bar, as far as favoritism goes."
“I'm grading on a curve," Jaemin said with a smirk. "Bumping you to the head of a class of one."
"How magnanimous of you."
"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."
A slow shake of the head was the only response you could muster. Between the amusement and the sheer exasperation, it was hard to keep track of your own feelings. This boy. This ridiculous, irritating, unfairly handsome boy. How had your life come to revolve around verbally sparring with him in darkened hallways in the middle of the night?
You'd reached the stairs leading up toward Gryffindor Tower, and you paused at the base, turning to face Jaemin. He was looking at you intently, as if he wanted to say something.
"You've been better this week," he said abruptly.
You blinked, caught off guard by the change in topic. "What?"
"At pretending," he clarified. "You don't flinch anymore when I touch you. That thing you did yesterday, with your hand on my chest when you were laughing at Jo's joke - that was good. Natural."
Heat crept up your neck at the memory. You'd surprised yourself with that gesture, the easy intimacy of it. It had just...happened. No thought, no awkwardness. For a moment, it had felt real.
"Oh," you said eloquently. "Um. Thanks?"
Jaemin nodded. "I can tell the practice is helping. People are buying it. Even Giselle's backed off a bit."
"Only a bit," you muttered. Jaemin's prickly best friend had been keeping a hawkish eye on you. She'd cornered you just yesterday, demanding to know Jaemin's favorite Quidditch team. You'd guessed the Falmouth Falcons, only to be informed with a triumphant sneer that he was actually a die-hard Montrose Magpies supporter, had been since childhood, and really, what kind of girlfriend doesn't know that?
"She's protective," Jaemin said, as if reading your thoughts. "But she's coming around. Slowly."
"Hooray for small mercies," you said dryly.
Jaemin's lips twitched. "Anyway, I didn't just track you down to compliment your acting skills."
"So why did you track me down, then?" You folded your arms, trying to ignore the way your pulse had picked up at his words. "Other than to save me from death by biscuit overindulgence, of course."
"Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend," he said.
You nodded slowly. "I'm aware."
"It's also Valentine's Day."
"Oh." You blinked. "Right." Somehow, in the midst of all the fake dating drama and NEWTs prep, you'd completely forgotten about the most romantic day of the year. "That's...a thing."
"A thing we should probably do together," Jaemin said. "I mean, it would look weird if we didn't, wouldn't it? The whole school will be there, all the couples will be out in force..."
Suddenly your hands felt clammy. He was right, of course. If you were really dating, you'd be all over each other on Valentine's Day. Holding hands, sharing butterbeer, probably snogging in some corner of Madam Puddifoot's like every other disgustingly happy couple.
But you weren't really dating. And the thought of upping the ante on this charade you were already barely keeping up with...it made you feel a bit sick.
Jaemin must have seen some of this on your face, because he quickly added, "We don't have to make a big deal of it. Just walk around together, maybe get lunch at the Three Broomsticks. I could buy you some chocolate from Honeydukes, let people see me being a good boyfriend. That's all."
"Right," you said faintly. "Sounds...great."
He studied you for a moment. "I mean, if you had other plans, or if you think it's too much—"
"No," you said, more firmly than you felt. "No, you're right. We should go together. For appearances' sake, if nothing else."
His eyes flickered at your words, a brief shadow passing over them before he straightened up. "Great," he said briskly. "It's a date then."
You took a step back, suddenly desperate for the safety of your dormitory. "I should go. It’s late."
Jaemin nodded. "Get some rest, Y/N. I’ll see you in Potions."
"Can't wait." You started up the stairs, but paused at the landing to look back. "Goodnight, Jaemin."
"Goodnight." He waited a beat, his voice dropping to a low, melodic murmur. "Sweet dreams, baby."
You huffed a laugh to hide your skyrocketing pulse and hurried up the stairs, feeling his gaze on your back until you turned the corner.
Valentine’s Day with Jaemin. It was just another scene in the play. You could handle it.
Right?
But as you climbed the stairs to your bed, you had the sinking feeling that 'sweet' dreams were the last thing you were going to get.
The Hogsmeade trip came around quicker than expected. It had barely stopped raining for weeks, but on Saturday the sun was a weak golden disk behind a scrim of clouds, and every student with even a shred of romantic aspiration was queued up to be let out the gates, Gryffindor and Slytherin and the rest all jostling close, careful to keep up appearances for whatever audience they believed themselves to have.
You, on the other hand, spent the first half of the walk pretending that the clumps of snow along the path were of great zoological interest, then the next half pretending you couldn’t feel Jaemin’s hand cradling your elbow, like you were some frail Victorian damsel and the uneven ground posed a mortal peril.
“This is a bit much, isn’t it?” you muttered, as you reached the crest of the hill and saw the town below.
Every shop window had been transformed into a shrine for Valentine’s Day: Sugar quaffles in the shape of anatomically correct hearts, boxes of chocolates spelled to whisper eternal devotion when opened, bargain bouquets of roses that swatted at you if you tried to walk by without paying them a compliment. Even the cobblestone streets seemed to have been scrubbed up for the occasion, each puddle reflecting a film of pink and red banners strung overhead.
Jaemin grinned at your side, unbothered by the spectacle. “You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” you insisted, though you eyed the brightly colored display tray warily. “I just don’t want to accidentally eat one of those chocolates that makes you recite poetry. Last time Jo had one, she spoke in haikus for three hours. It was a nightmare.”
“That sounds amazing, actually,” Jaemin said, a devilish glint in his eye. He veered off the main path, his long coat swishing around his ankles as he approached the sugar-dusted worker hawking the tray. “Let’s see if we get Lord Byron or... Byron-but-make-it-sexy.”
“Those are the same thing, Jaemin.”
He snagged two samples before you could protest, pressing a heart-shaped truffle into your gloved palm. The chocolate was dark, dusted with shimmering pink edible glitter. “Go on. What’s the worst that could happen? A little rhyming couplet never killed anyone.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smell of rich cocoa was overpowering your common sense. You took a tentative bite.
The chocolate was velvety, melting instantly over your tongue with notes of dark cherry and espresso. For a second, you thought you were safe. Then, a strange warmth bloomed in your diaphragm. It wasn't the heat of the candy, but more like a physical compulsion, like a marionette string tugging at your vocal cords.
Your lips parted against your will. You tried to say ‘It’s good,’ but your voice, suddenly projecting with a nasal, theatrical vibrato that echoed off the cobblestones, intoned:
“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove!”
Jaemin doubled over, nearly dropping his own sweet, his laughter bright and loud in the crisp air. “Oh, brilliant! Shakespeare it is! Give it some more feeling, come on!”
“Shut up!” you tried to hiss, but the magic ignored your intent completely. Instead, you threw a dramatic hand over your heart, your eyes fluttering shut as you bellowed, “O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken!”
You slapped a hand over your mouth, mortified, as a group of Ravenclaws walked by, giggling. The spell finally sputtered out, leaving you breathless and flushed.
“I hate you,” you mumbled into your palm, though the lingering taste of cherry was admittedly delicious. You looked up at him, realizing something didn’t add up. “Wait. How do you even know that was Shakespeare? Or who Lord Byron is?”
Jaemin finally straightened up, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. He popped his own truffle into his mouth, looking entirely unbothered.
“We have a library at the Manor that rivals the one at Hogwarts,” he said casually, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “My parents… well, they’re traditionalists, obviously. But my mother has always insisted that a true wizarding education is incomplete without understanding the ‘arts of the common man.’”
He swallowed, and for a second, his eyes went wide. You braced yourself for a poem, but he just cleared his throat and smirked. A dud candy. Typical luck.
“She thinks Muggles are tragically fascinating,” he continued, offering you his arm. “She insisted I read the classics. ‘If you are to rule the world, son, or simply live in it, you must understand how the other half feels.’ Or something like that.”
You stared at him in slight awe. You had never really considered that wizards from old, sacred twenty-eight families cared much about the Muggle world, other than to look down on it. As a half-blood who spent most of your childhood navigating the regular world and reading paperbacks, you assumed Jaemin’s world was entirely insulated.
“I’m just glad they’re using good material this year,” he finished, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Sonnet 116? ‘It is the star to every wandering bark’? Very romantic choice, Y/N. Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
You tried to glare at him, to maintain your annoyance at being made a public spectacle, but his smile was so wide, so full of genuine delight, that your irritation evaporated like breath on glass.
“I’m telling you that you’re paying for these sweets,” you said, linking your arm through his.
“Fair enough,” he hummed. “Where to next?
Before you could answer, a shrill voice cut through the chatter of the crowd. "Jaemin! Yoo-hoo, over here!"
You turned to see Yuna Bae waving at you from the doorway of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. She was resplendent in robes of pale pink, her dark hair arranged in perfect curls. Beside her, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, was a Ravenclaw you recognized from your Charms class. Taehyun, you thought his name was.
Jaemin's grip on your arm tightened imperceptibly. "Yuna," he said, his smile never wavering. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Oh, you know me," Yuna trilled, her eyes raking over you dismissively. "I never miss a Hogsmeade weekend. Taehyun was just treating me to tea. Why don't you join us? I'm sure we could squeeze you in."
The way she said that made it clear she was referring solely to Jaemin. You might as well have been a Flobberworm for all the attention she gave you.
“Y/N and I were just heading to Tomes and Scrolls. She’s been telling me about the new research into the Goblin Wars that just arrived and you know I can never resist a good history tome.”
Well, that was a blatant lie. You’d mentioned the book in passing a week ago, but Jaemin would rather drink Bubotuber pus than read a dry history text. Still, you appreciated the save. Yuna’s smile dimmed a fraction, her eyes flicking to the modest storefront of the bookstore as if it were a contagious ward at St. Mungo’s.
“Is this what you’re prioritizing now, Jaemin? This… little excursion into the mundane?”
Her eyes raked over your clothes down to your scuffed shoes. “I’m simply fascinated, Jawm. Your family has spent generations cultivating a certain standard, and you're playing the role of the benevolent saint. Taking pity on the less fortunate is a fine hobby, but surely you’re bored of the charity work by now?”
You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You started to speak, but Jaemin’s voice cut through first.
“Yuna.” The word was a warning, low and dangerous. “Watch yourself.”
“I’m being perfectly transparent,” she snapped, her feline eyes flashing. “It’s embarrassing, Jaemin. People are laughing. They’re wondering how long this little ‘experiment’ has to last before you regain your senses and return to your own kind. You’re a Na. Act like it.”
“I am a Na,” Jaemin said flatly, his arm sliding from your elbow to wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. “And Y/N is my girlfriend. She isn't an experiment, and she isn't someone you get to talk down to. If you can’t show her the respect she’s earned, then you and I have nothing left to discuss.”
Yuna’s jaw tightened, her composure finally cracking into a mask of pure venom. “Earned? She’s a nameless Gryffindor with nothing to her name but a few decent marks and a tragic wardrobe. Don’t think for a second this won't reach your father, Jaemin. He won't be as ‘charmed’ by your rebellion as you are.”
“Send the owl tonight if you like,” Jaemin countered, his voice steady. “Tell him I’m busy.”
Yuna’s eyes flicked to you one last time. “Enjoy your biscuits while you can, darling. The higher you climb, the harder the fall.”
You simply smiled, though your chest was tight with fury.
"Oh, I’ll keep that in mind. Do enjoy your tea, Yuna. I hear the service is wonderfully… swift today.”
As she turned on her heel to sweep into the tea shop, you kept your hands tucked inside your coat pockets, your fingers curling around the smooth wood of your wand. With a sharp, silent flick of your wrist and a jagged thought of Ventus, you sent a precise jinx whistling through the air.
The effect was instantaneous.
Just as Yuna reached for the heavy brass handle of the shop door, an invisible, violent gust of wind caught the hem of her pristine pink robes. They billowed up like a startled peacock’s tail, tangling around her head and blinding her just as she stepped forward.
Thwack.
She walked straight into the doorframe with a dull thud. Her scream of outrage was muffled by her own silk skirts, and as she scrambled to untangle herself, her designer boots skidded on a patch of black ice you’d surreptitiously greased with a bit of Glacius. She performed a frantic, uncoordinated flailing dance that sent her expensive handbag flying into a nearby slush pile.
Taehyun made a strangled noise that was either a cough or a repressed sob of laughter.
Jaemin stood perfectly still beside you, watching as a disheveled Yuna finally managed to shove her way inside the shop, her perfect curls now looking like a bird's nest and her dignity in tatters. He slowly turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide delight.
"Did you just…?"
"The wind in the Highlands is so unpredictable this time of year," you said, keeping your gaze fixed on the shop window as Yuna frantically tried to wipe slush off her bag. "It’s a real hazard for those who aren't used to the climate."
"You're terrifying," Jaemin whispered, a grin breaking across his face. Absolutely terrifying. I love it."
"I told you," you said, finally meeting his gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. "I'm a woman of endless mysteries. And I really, really hate being called a charity case."
"Fair point," he laughed, steering you away before she could recover enough to look back. "Come on, Shakespeare. Let's check out the books."
Tomes and Scrolls was blessedly quiet, the heavy wooden door acting as a silencer against the bustle of the High Street. You inhaled deeply, loving the smell of aged parchment, beeswax, and the faint, ozone-like spark of old magic trapped in ink. This was your happy place.
You moved instinctively toward the back, trailing your fingers along the spines. Some books hummed under your touch; others, like the Compendium of Common Curses, seemed to shy away.
“There,” you whispered, spotting a thick, midnight-blue spine with silver embossing The Iron Quill: Unfiltered Testimonies of the 1612 Rebellions.
You pulled it from the shelf, cradling it like it was made of glass. “I’ve been waiting for this for months, Jaemin. It’s based on the personal journals of Ug the Unreliable that were found in a sealed vault in Gringotts last summer.”
You opened it to a random page, your eyes lighting up. “Look at the diagrams! Everyone thinks the rebellion started because of the wand-ban, but these letters suggest a secret trade embargo on silver-threaded lace. It could completely rewrite the seventh-year curriculum. If the economic tension preceded the legislative one, it changes the entire motive of the Goblin liaisons!”
You turned a page, your voice gaining speed and volume as the academic thrill took over. “And look at the footnotes! There’s a cross-reference to The Tales of Beedle the Bard that suggests the ‘Warlock’s Hairy Heart’ was actually a coded political allegory for the Minister of Magic at the time. It’s brilliant. It’s... it's...”
You broke off, suddenly aware of the silence. Jaemin wasn't looking at the book. He was leaning against the mahogany shelf, watching you with with interest.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You started to close the book. “I’m boring you to death, aren't I? You probably want to go look at the Quidditch supplies or–”
“No,” Jaemin said softly. He stepped closer and reached out, not to take the book, but to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Not at all. I like seeing you like this. Passionate. A little bit nerdy. It’s... it's really cute, Y/N.”
You froze, the heavy tome suddenly feeling very light compared to the way your heart was thudding against your ribs. You looked down, pretending to be intensely interested in a footnote about goblin-wrought armor, trying to ignore the way his thumb lingered near your temple.
“It’s just history,” you whispered, though your pulse was racing fast enough to win a broom race.
“But you love it,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave. “And that’s why I like listening.”
You didn’t quite know what to say to that so you busied yourself with the book, pretending to be engrossed in the table of contents, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing.
It was just an act, you reminded yourself. A show for the onlookers. Jaemin was a good actor, that was all. There was no real feeling behind his words or his looks.
You lingered by the history section for a moment longer before a small, unassuming sign caught your eye toward the very back of the shop, nestled under a low, sloping ceiling: "Non-Magical Curiosities & Literature."
“Wait,” you said walking towards it. “I didn’t know they kept a Muggle section here.”
Jaemin followed as you navigated the narrowing aisles. This corner of the shop was more cramped, the books bound in plain cloth or faded dust jackets rather than dragon-hide or shimmering silk.
You scanned the titles until your eyes snagged on a familiar, battered spine. You pulled out a well-loved copy of Wuthering Heights.
“Since you’re so well-versed in Byron and Shakespeare,” you said, holding the book out so he could see the cover, “did your mother ever make you read the Brontës?”
Jaemin took the book, his long fingers tracing the silhouette of the moors on the cover. “I don’t think this one made the library list. Is it another tragedy?”
“The best kind of tragedy,” you sighed as you leaned back against the shelf. “It’s about a love so intense it’s practically a curse. Heathcliff and Cathy... they’re terrible for each other, really. They’re vengeful and cruel, but they’re also part of the same soul. There’s this one line—” you paused, closing your eyes for a second to recall the words that had lived in your head since you were twelve. “‘I am Heathcliff. He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.’”
When you opened your eyes, Jaemin was staring at you with an intensity that made the air in the cramped corner feel suddenly very thin. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by something much more sincere.
“That’s a bit more intense than a Honeydukes poem,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the edge of the pages.
“Muggles don’t have magic to fix their problems,” you explained, feeling a rush of that deep-seated passion again. “They don’t have Amortentia to force a feeling or Cheering Charms to dull a heartbreak. They just have words. They have to build these massive, sweeping worlds of emotion just to explain how it feels to be alive. I think… I think sometimes that’s more powerful than any spell we’re taught.”
Jaemin looked from the book back to you, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You talk about them like they’re the ones with the real power.”
“In a way, they are,” you whispered.
He handed the book back to you, but as your fingers met on the cover, he didn't pull away. “Well, if it’s that good, I suppose I should read it. But only if you promise to highlight the best parts for me. I want to see the world the way you see it.”
His words caught you off guard. You looked down at your joined hands, the scent of old paper and Jaemin’s expensive, woody cologne swirling around you.
“I can do that,” you promised softly.
The afternoon bled away as you drifted from one storefront to the next. It was…nice. More than nice, actually. Despite yourself, you found yourself relaxing and enjoying the banter.
Despite the frantic warnings screaming in the back of your mind, you found the armor around your heart beginning to flake away. You were relaxing, leaning into the sharp cadence of his banter and the way his shoulder occasionally brushed yours
As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold, Jaemin suggested one last stop.
“Three Broomsticks?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit cliché?”
Jaemin shrugged, a smile playing about his lips. “It’s tradition, isn’t it? Can’t come to Hogsmeade and not have a Butterbeer.”
He had a point. The warmth of the pub sounded inviting after the chill of the February air. “Lead on, then.”
The place was packed to the brim with students crowding every table, their cheeks flushed from the cold and the Butterbeer. You wove your way through the throng, Jaemin’s hand at the small of your back.
“Y/N! Jaemin! Over here!”
You turned to see Jo waving at you from a table in the back. Beside her, was a handsome boy you vaguely recognized as a seventh year Hufflepuff. Won-something?
“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Jo said as you approached, her eyes bright. “Y/N, this is Wonbin. Wonbin, this is my best friend, Y/N. And her boyfriend, Jaemin.”
Wonbin smiled at you. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Jo’s told me a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” you said, sliding into the seat across from them. Jaemin settled beside you, his thigh pressing against yours under the table.
“Oh, definitely,” Wonbin said, grinning. “Though she did mention something about an incident with a Niffler and a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion…”
You groaned, shooting Jo a look. “That was one time! And it wasn’t my fault the Niffler got loose, I maintain that to this day.”
Jo laughed, leaning into Wonbin’s side. They looked so comfortable together, so at ease.
Not for the first time since you arrived at Hogsmeade and finding yourself surrounded by dozens of loving couples, you felt a pang of something that might have been envy. What must it be like, to have that? To not have to question every look, every touch, every flutter of your heart?
You glanced at Jaemin, only to find him already looking at you. His eyes were the color of dark mahogany in the firelight.
If this were a real date, he would lean in. If you were a real girlfriend, you would let him.
The thought of his lips on yours, not as a tactical maneuver to thwart Yuna, but as an answer to the restless, poetic ache that had started in the bookstore, sent a shiver through you that was violent in its intensity. You wondered if his mouth would taste like the dark chocolate he’d eaten earlier, or the butterbear he was having now.
Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a drumbeat of "what if" that threatened to drown out your common sense. You looked away quickly, grabbing your Butterbeer and taking a long swig to hide the sudden heat in your cheeks.
The conversation kept flowing around you, but you found it hard to concentrate. Everywhere you looked, couples were leaning into each other, hands entwined, heads bent close. All you could hear around you was the sound of laughter and the soft smack of lips meeting in chaste kisses.
Suddenly, your skin itched with a restless sort of energy. You were hyperaware of Jaemin beside you, the solid warmth of him, his hand on yours on the table.
This was supposed to be a date. A fake date, yes, but a date nonetheless. And what did couples do on dates?
They kissed.
The thought was terrifying and… exciting. Kissing Jaemin, how would that feel? Putting your mouth on his mouth in front of all these people.
“Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice was barely audible over the din, but it vibrated through your very bones. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, his scent of cedar and winter air enveloping you. “You’ve gone very quiet. Where did you go?”
You took another gulp of Butterbeer, trying to drown the sudden dryness in your throat. There was no need to get so worked up about it, really. It was all part of the act. Just one more scene to play, one more line to deliver.
You could do this.
Setting your tankard down with a thunk, you turned to Jaemin, determination surging through you. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.
“Y/N,” he said carefully. “What are you doing?”
“Improvising,” you murmured, and kissed him.
For a moment, he was utterly still beneath your lips. Then, just as you were about to pull away feeling completely humiliated, he came to life, his hand cupping your cheek, his mouth slanting over yours.
It was…Merlin. It was everything. His lips were soft and warm but still demanding, the scrape of his calluses against your skin sending goosebumps down your arms. You melted into him, your fingers curling into the soft wool of his sweater, anchoring yourself lest you float away entirely.
Someone wolf-whistled, probably Jo, and you jerked back to reality, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Jaemin looked as dazed as you felt, his eyes dark, his lips kissed-red.
“Well,” he said, his voice rough. “That was…something.”
“Um… yeah,” you said weakly, trying to catch your breath. “Gotta be convincing, right?”
Jaemin’s pupils were more dilated than before. “Right,” he said. “Of course.”
He turned back to his drink, and you did the same, trying to ignore the way your lips were tingling, the way your heart was doing a complicated tap-dance against your ribs.
That wasn't real, you reminded yourself as you gulped down the rest of your Butterbeer, the alcohol doing little to steady your nerves. None of it was real.
Jo was grinning at you across the table, her eyes knowing. You glared at her, silently daring her to say something. Wisely, she didn’t, but her smile spoke volumes.
As the evening wore on and the empty tankards accumulated, you found your tongue loosening, your inhibitions lowering. The pub seemed overly warm, the laughter too loud, the press of bodies too close. You needed air, needed space. You needed…
“I need to pee,” you announced loudly, lurching to your feet. The room swayed around you, and you grabbed the edge of the table to steady yourself. “I’ll be…I’ll be back.”
You wove your way through the crowd, ignoring Jo’s concerned call of your name and the way Jaemin slightly rose from his seat, his hand outstretched as if to stop you.
You didn’t need his help or anyone’s help. You were fine. You were absolutely, totally fine.
Outside, the night air was a blessed slap of cold. You took in great lungfuls of it. Merlin’s beard, how much had you had to drink? The empty tankards swam before your eyes in a hazy blur. Three? Four? More? It was hard to keep track when the Butterbeer had been so sweet and the pub so warm and Jaemin’s lips so soft against yours…
Oh no. Oh no no no. You’d actually kissed him, right there in front of everyone. What were you thinking?
Well, it didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting away, finding a quiet place where you could think. Somewhere without Jaemin’s eyes on you.
You picked a direction at random and started walking with unsteady steps. The high street was nearly deserted now, the lovebirds gone home to their castles and their common rooms and their cozy little romances.
Leaving you alone with your thoughts and your too-fast heartbeat and the sinking realization that you were, perhaps, a bit drunker than you’d initially thought.
“Y/N!”
You closed your eyes briefly, both thrilled and terrified by the sound of his voice.
“I’m fiiiiine,” you slurred without turning around. “I just need a minute.”
Jaemin caught up to you in two long strides, his face tight with concern as he reached out to steady your swaying frame. "You're completely blasted. Please, just stand still for a second before you fall into a ditch."
"I am not blasted," you informed him with great dignity, though you tripped over your own feet and ended up slumped against his chest. You looked up at him, your eyes unfocused but swimming with a sudden honesty. "You're the one who’s blasted— Blasted with... with your perfect hair and your Byron talk."
“Let’s just get you back first, okay?”
“I can get there by myself, thank you very much.” You slurred, starting to walk in the opposite direction of the castle.
“I’m sure you can. But I'd rather help you get there in one piece.” He said, sliding his arm around your waist and gently veering you in the right direction.
You tried to pull away, a whine building in your throat. “Don’t wanna. M’having fun.”
“I think you’ve had quite enough fun for one night,” he replied, his voice dripping with that dry, aristocratic patience that made you want to kick his shins.
“Are you mad at me…” You said softly after a second. “Because of the kiss? I—I didn’t mean—”
Your eyes smarted. Tears, sudden and hot, pooled and fell freely. You felt mortified and ridiculous and very impervious at once. The laugh you tried to force came out more like a sob.
“M’sorry,” you hiccuped. “What was I thinking? I’m awful.”
He stopped walking and turned to face you. For a moment, he was quietly furious and perhaps even a little bewildered, which made him look achingly human.
“Don’t say that,” he breathed. He did not sound like someone who believed in platitudes. “You’re not awful. You’re just tired and you’ve had too much to drink.”
“M’drunk, not dumb. I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. Jus’ got…got lost in the moment.”
“Let’s just go back to the castle first” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “We can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re sober.”
You sniffled weakly, wiped at your face with the back of your hand, and let him shepherd you back toward the castle.
By the time you reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, you were barely keeping your eyes open, your body growing heavier with each step.
“Password?” the Fat Lady trilled, eyeing Jaemin suspiciously.
You tried to form the word ‘Flibbertigibbet,’ but your tongue felt like a thick piece of wet paper and it came out as something closer to "Flub-a-dub". The Fat Lady, mercifully, just sighed and allowed you access anyway.
“I’ll help you,” Jaemin murmured, his arm tightening around your waist to keep you upright as the portrait swung open.
But as he made to step over the threshold, you planted a hand firmly on his chest.
“You can’t come in,” you said, shaking your head slow and wide.
He raised an elegant eyebrow. “And why’s that?”
“Cause you’re a snake,” you told him seriously. “And the Fat Lady… She doesn’t like snakes. Nope! No snakes ‘llowed in the lion house. S’the rules.”
You dissolved into giggles, finding this logic unbearably funny. The look on Jaemin’s face only made you laugh harder, a snorting, hiccupping thing that had you clutching at the portrait frame for support.
“Right. God forbid I upset the natural order,” he said, a reluctant, lopsided smile finally tugging at his lips.
He reached out, gently tucking a messy strand of hair behind your ear. “I think that’s quite enough out of you. Go on, get to bed.”
You sketched a salute, barely avoiding smacking yourself in the face. “Aye aye, cap’n,”
And with that, you let the portrait swing shut, cutting off the sound of Jaemin’s laughter. You made your way up to your dormitory on unsteady legs, collapsing into bed fully clothed.
As sleep claimed you, dragging you down into dreamless oblivion, one last thought chased itself around your fuzzy brain.
No snakes in the lion’s den. Not even pretty ones with soft lips and warm hands.
It was a good rule, you decided muzzily. A very good rule indeed.
IN OTHER WORDS : MINGYU FICS THAT I HAVE LOVED
editor's letter - this list is my personal favs , most are pre 2025 and either 2~3 part series or oneshots. please refer to some notes at the end.
contains but not entirely based around : [ s = smut . a = angst . sr = short read . dc = dark content ]
ONE LAST TIME ( FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE ) by @tonicandjins
BESTFRIEND MINGYU [ a ]
[pls DM me for part 2. it has not been posted and is a Google doc ]this is a fic i think about a lot, i was so so lucky to get the part two's doc by the author <3 this fic is very very dear to me. i wish i could read it for the first time again
ICE COLD , CABIN FEVER by @smileysuh
MINGYU && SEUNGCHEOL [ s ]
smileysuh realese nothing but absolute bangers.. the tension in this fic is insane honestly, loved the plot too :)
GLITCH by @gamerwoo
MINGYU && WONWOO [ s . some dc . ]
fcking insane ass fic this has the most insane plot twist ever like what the hell... i loved it when i read for the first time !! it was my first fic w such themes so i always have a special spot for it
KIM MINGYU'S (UNHELPFUL) GUIDE TO LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY by @shuaflix
BESTFRIEND MINGYU [ s (obv) ]
every seventeen reader as read or at least had this fic pop up in their feeds at least once hehe, i remember op posted the teaser and i was sooso excited to read hehe !! and this DID NOTTT disappoint.
ps : the thing where they write what they wanna do on whiteboards? i did that irl after being inspired by this fic HAHA
HITS DIFFERENT ( CAUSE ITS YOU..) by @gyuswhore
BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND MINGYU [ s . a . fluff ]
i wrote one of my first fics on my old acc inspired by this fic. this is the absolutely sweetest ever :(( kind of like a coming of age movie ! must read
WILTED by @wheeboo
BF MINGYU [ a ]
hanahaki fics are usually all the same but this one stands out to me <3 its truly one of the most gorgeous fics ever :^) i remember crying reading this ! its simply lovely and a must for angst enjoyers
CLARITY by @hannieoftheyear
BF'S FRIEND MINGYU [ s . a . cheating ]
i wanna be friends with this mingyu so bad.. hes actually such a sweetheart this fic was such a fun read :3 i enjoyed it sm !! author is great w storytelling
ALL THINGS END by @yoongiseesawmp3
CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND MINGYU [ a . fluff ]
lovely lovely lovelyyyy fic !! this one takes u on a absolute rollercoaster of emotions <3 much love to author ! i liked it a lot
notes
i have not been able to compile an entire list of my favs. i have missed out on many shorter fics, simply because i used to read on a different account and was not very keen on bookmarking or reblogging at the time. looking for these took over an hour simply because of how disorganized that account is
i am very sorry to any authors i may have missed and to readers who may have enjoyed those works.
summary: in the midst of jeno trying to help you pass a statistics class, you become friends, and eventually, that friendship turns into something neither of you can define. you say he fucks around too much. he says you're not his type. and as far as you're both concerned, it's not that deep anyway.
pairing: fuckboy student!jeno x f!reader.
genre: university!au, fluff, crack, angst, friends(ish) to lovers, smut! mdni! woop woop
word count: ~25k
warnings: oh boy… jeno and oc are both warnings in this, emotional constipation, a lil toxicity but it's all love, jealousy, they fuck obvs, kissing, spitting, fingering, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), he eats it from the back, multiple orgasms, overstim, dirty talk, praise, possessiveness, light choking, lots of teasing, nipple play, his dicc is big bc…cmon, he's a hard dom but the tables do turn a couple times, rough sex, he alters her brain chem, sweet sex also, multiple positions, jen goes through it in one scene(you'll see), angst!!!!, same page!hae makes a few appearances (yes, that's a warning), alcohol consumption, there's a lot more tbh but im so tired rn
a/n: happy gooning!!! that’s it. that’s the tea. also pls send me love im a desperate whore. i'll get a girl boner for each note/ask. ALSO!!! im now officially an unemployed international postgrad student so pls support me on ko-fi (if you can), it would mean the world to little old me👉🏼👈🏼 i genuinely hope you love this fic. i almost went mental writing it - pls excuse any typos. thank u love u bai :’)
masterlist | ko-fi
Jeno isn’t supposed to be upstairs.
Jaemin’s party has already tipped into chaos — music too loud, bodies packed too close, laughter spilling into corners it doesn’t belong — and Jeno feels detached from all of it. He’s tried to lean into it, tried to drink past the restless feeling sitting heavy in his chest, but it hasn’t worked.
Someone mentions his room being occupied offhandedly, like it’s a joke. Jeno barely reacts at first. People drift in and out of rooms at parties all the time. It shouldn’t matter.
Still, his feet carry him upstairs.
The hallway is quieter, the noise dulling with every step, and when he stops in front of his bedroom door, something feels… off. There’s no grim moans bleeding through the walls. No laughter. Just a silence that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the house.
He hesitates, fingers curling around the handle before he pushes the door open, and his eyes land on you: lying back on the bed with your legs dangling over the edge, one arm resting across your stomach, hair falling loosely around your face. Even from the doorway, you look… different.
“Y/N?” His voice comes out tentative, cautious.
His suspicions of you being asleep disappear when your head quickly raises. Your wide eyes show surprise.
“Jen? Hi.” You sit up quickly, as though you’ve been caught red handed. “Is this your room?”
“Yeah.” He nods, taking in the perplexed expression on your face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His words come out rushed as he shuts the door behind him, giving you both privacy and all of a sudden, he feels like he’s intruding, even though you’re in his room.
“Yeah, sorry, just needed some privacy.” You shake your head. “I can go.” You rush to get up and he instantly feels guilt wash over him.
“No, no. You’re fine.” He cuts you off, his hand waving defensively and you settle back on his bed with a sigh. “Did something happen?” He asks carefully, somewhat worried now. He’s never seen you like this before. Not that he sees you much outside your tutoring sessions, but the times he does, you’re all chirpy and playful, always cracking jokes. He doesn’t know you well but it’s evident that you’re not your usual self.
“Um, not really.” You scoff, an exasperated laugh leaving you. “It’s silly, don’t worry about it.” Your eyes stay on your hands as you play with your rings and he realises he’s never noticed them before. Pretty, he thinks.
He moves to sit on the carpeted floor, leaning his head on the foot of the bed, next to where your legs are dangling off the edge. He’s now decided that this situation is a lot more interesting than the chaotic party Jaemin decided to throw downstairs. Half his friends are drunk off their faces, the other half busy getting there, while Haechan and his girlfriend have already disappeared to god knows where. And you? You seem somewhat sober and definitely in need of some company.
“What’s up, Y/N? You’re clearly upset.” He presses, not happy with your vague answer. Jeno is a nosy guy and he knows that about himself, but in this case, he’s also worried and for some reason, he can’t seem to be able to let this go.
“I’m not upset.” You defend, making clear that he’s touched a nerve. “I’m pissed off.” Oh? He can’t help but crane his neck sideways to look up at you. Your eyes meet for a split second and it’s clear as daylight now, you really are pissed off. But there’s something else behind your eyes, he can’t quite decipher. Embarrassment maybe?
“Shit.” He turns to look in front of him again, legs crossing to make himself comfortable. “Who’s the culprit?”
“Classic shitty ex with his shitty new girlfriend, you know the drill.” You explain, sounding like you hate yourself for even talking about this. Jeno gets it.
“Ah. I assume they’re here showing off their happiness?”
“You assume correct.” You confirm and Jeno can’t see you, but he imagines you nodding your head.
“Want me to beat the shit out of him?”
Your snort tells him that he’s succeeding at making you feel a tiny bit better and he can’t hold his smile back.
“You wouldn’t hurt a fly Lee Jeno.” He feels the mattress dipping behind him and when he looks back up he can’t see your face anymore. You’re lying down again.
“Hey, I work out.” He elbows your calf playfully, earning another tiny laugh from you.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I see you checking me out when I talk stats.” He jokes, expecting a snarky response.
“I’m just a heterosexual female, Jeno. I see muscles, I stare.” So, you do check him out?
“I mean, I was joking, but stare away if it makes you happy.” It’s your turn to make him laugh, kicking him in the ribs lightly. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and Jeno ignores the buzzing coming from his back pocket, probably Jaemin or Jisung looking for him. He’d rather be here right now though. Not because he enjoys your company, he just feels a sense of calmness he doesn’t want to ruin. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
“Feeling any better?” He breaks the silence a few moments later and for some reason, Jeno feels comfortable enough to lean his head against your leg, eyes closing to stop the room from spinning. He realises he must be slightly more intoxicated than he thought he was now that he’s sitting down and he smiles when you don’t retract, his temple resting on your soft calf.
“A little.” You nudge his head with your leg. “Thanks.” You say softly. “And sorry for spoiling your night.”
“You didn’t.” He reassures you quickly. If anything, you made it interesting, but he doesn’t admit that out loud.
“How come you’re up here?” You ask, as though you’ve had an epiphany and Jeno lets out a short laugh through his nose, eyes remaining closed.
“In my room?” He teases and he’s aware that he’s deflecting, but he hopes you don’t catch him.
“Ha-ha funny. You know what I mean.” It was worth a try, but there’s no deceiving you it seems.
“Just not in the right mood for a party.” He confesses, sounding almost defeated. And he feels it.
“Tired?” Jeno can tell you’re sat up now, you voice coming from directly above.
“Yeah, it appears trying to force knowledge in that pretty little head of yours takes it out of me.” His joke lands well, getting a laugh out of you but then you startle him with a flick of your fingers on the back of his head. “Oi!” He leans forward, hand cupping the spot you just attacked.
“Insult me again. I dare you.” Your provocative tone intrigues him in a way, even though the pain on his scalp.
“Damn woman.” He complains, the heel of his hand rubbing his head now. “Do that to your shitty ex and you’ve got yourself a gorgeous homerun.” He jokes and almost flinches when you lightly ruffle his hair in a comforting manner. Soft and tender. A complete opposite to your usual demeanour.
“Care to answer my question now?” You return to your previous subject, not letting it slide and he’s almost annoyed that you’re so observant.
He leans back again, resting his head on the mattress and he’s met with your face. From this upside-down angle, he notices the necklace that dangles off your neck as you lean forward to get a better look at him. It’s dainty, like your rings, and it sits prettily between your collarbones.
“Just felt a bit lonely, I guess.” He admits and he feels exposed. It’s been sitting with him all night. He hadn’t meant to say it, but now that he has, it feels strangely relieving. He can’t quite put his finger on the reason, but he thinks it has something to do with the way you look at him. No judgment in your eyes, just understanding. Could also be the fact that you’re upside down.
“As in, there’s no one to talk to or no girl to stick your dick in?” Your question takes him aback and if he weren’t looking at you, he might have thought you’re mocking him. Your perfectly serious expression tells him otherwise.
Jeno shrugs. “Both?” God, he sounds sad.
“There’s plenty of pretty girls downstairs, no?” You shuffle to the edge of the bed now, sliding down to join him on the floor, mirroring his way of sitting. Though your eyes are on the ceiling, his are stuck on your side profile, your neck and that stupid necklace. Have you always been this captivating or is he just drunk and horny? He’s always thought of you as a girl who happens to be a friend. Not his usual type. Or maybe that’s his way of coping with the fact that you’re actually too good for him.
“None I’d wanna stick my dick in.” The words leave his mouth before he can contemplate them and your eyes close as you breathe out a chuckle. “Plus, my room was already occupied anyway.” He teases, smiling at the way your kiss your teeth, feigning annoyance.
“My apologies, Mr. top shagger. I was experiencing a misery crisis.” You retort, lazily turning your head to stare at him. His laugh dies out a second after, but his smile lingers as his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before trailing back up to yours. There’s mischief written all over your face and for the first time in what feels like forever, Jeno feels flustered. It’s like you’ve got him all figured out and he knows that if you were to read his thoughts right now, you would most likely condemn him to eternal hell.
“What?” He asks, deflection getting the best of him again.
“Nothing.” You shake your head, diverting your gaze to your hands again. “You’re the one staring.” There’s a subtle tint of pink on your cheeks and now it’s Jeno’s turn to smirk. You’re shy. Because of him.
“That’s new.” His observation comes out in a hushed tone. Not intentional.
“What is?” Your eyebrows furrow in question and your eyes find his again.
“You’re blushing.” He points his chin at your face and to his surprise you don’t shy away. Instead, you maintain eye contact, one eyebrow raising daringly as you try not to smile, tongue poking into your cheek.
“And you’re flirting.” The slight tilt of your head gets his heart going a little faster. “That’s also new.” Your smirk returns and your eyes narrow, studying him.
“Is it though?” Whatever has taken over him, Jeno can’t explain it, but you’re reciprocating and he has no intention of stopping until you do. What are the odds of this going to shit anyway?
“When have you ever flirted with me?” A genuine question, nonetheless, not a valid one. Jeno’s flirted with you in the past. Subtly. But he has. Aways harmless. No ulterior motives. Until now.
“You know I have. You’ve just never flirted back.” He explains casually. It's the truth and your cheeky grin accompanied by your silence validates his argument. You might be terrible at stats, but you’re not oblivious. “Do you not want me to flirt with you?” He tests.
“I never said that.” You shrug, your nonchalance doing something to him he can’t quite describe. He feels it in his spine though, and it’s unnerving and hot at the same time.
“So, you want me to?” He doubles down, enjoying whatever turn the conversation has taken. Your hesitation intrigues him, gaze drifting down to his lips for a split second before returning to his eyes. Jeno knows the signs.
“Never said that either.”
“Oh, fuck off.” His hand has no business grabbing the back of your neck and your lips have no business being this soft against his, yet both of those things are happening before Jeno can process his actions and he can’t stop the low grunt that rumbles in his chest. You kiss him back like you expected it, like you were prepared for it and that eggs him on even more.
You shuffle closer, your hands finding home on the sides of his neck, holding him close, making his head spin as he struggles to stay sane. The low moan you let out against his lips allows him to lick into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours, gliding, flicking, tasting you eagerly. He really shouldn’t be doing this - fuck stats, fuck tutoring - but the thought doesn’t even register. Not when you look so good on his floor and taste even better on his tongue. He only knows that you’re here, close, and he wants more.
He tugs on your hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp and you obediently allow your head to loll back, giving him space to attack your neck with wet kisses, your perfume invading his senses, clouding his mind as he sucks on your pulse. He smirks when you whine, the sweet sound reaching his already half hard dick. He lets his other hand travel down your body and when he reaches the inside of your thigh, he squeezes the flesh, waiting for you to protest, to stop him or indicate in any kind of way that you don’t want him to keep going. Instead, you spread your bent legs expectantly.
No words are exchanged apart from a low ‘fuck’ he lets out when you hurriedly dip your hands under your short skirt, tugging at your panties and the second they’re on the floor, Jeno wastes no time. His fingers find your folds instantly, rubbing from your entrance to your clit and he grunts at the wet glide, so fucking wet, he thinks as he circles your bundle of nerves slowly at first, then more determined, wanting desperately to get you off. It’s like he’s possessed. He can’t think straight, the only thought dancing around his mind is seeing you fall apart on his floor.
You bring his lips to yours again, hands pulling at his hair as your tongue invades his mouth and your hips grind against his hand. He’s in a slightly uncomfortable position, butt still on the floor, body twisted at the waist as you’re splayed on his carpet, head resting on the edge of his mattress. Not that it matters anyway.
“Make me cum.” You moan in his mouth; demanding and breathy and he swallows it with a filthy kiss, moaning when he dips a finger in your needy hole. You’re so wet, making his mind go blank and he feels like he could give you anything you asked for at this point. He pulls out, trying two fingers this time, knowing you can take the stretch with how drenched you are.
“Pull your skirt up.” He instructs softly, lips dragging against yours.
You do exactly as he asks, revealing the unholy sight of his fingers slowly fucking into you. Your clit is engorged due to the arousal and he can’t shake the thought of his lips wrapping around it, sucking as hard as he pleases, flicking until you’re shaking. He settles for splitting you open with his fingers for now.
He curls the digits slightly, pressing them upwards as he starts drilling into you at a rough and quick pace. The quelching noises sound almost melodic to him. That’s what good pussy sounds like, he thinks and he relishes in the loud mewl you let out, knowing he’s hitting the right spot.
“There?” He breathes out against your temple, desperately needing to unbutton his jeans, the constricting feeling torturing him, but your nod keeps him going.
“Yeah.” You pant, your eyes on his hand, taking in the erotic image as your nails dig into his thigh through his godforsaken jeans, and he wishes he could feel your touch properly, without any barriers.
He makes sure the heel of his palm stimulates your clit each time he fucks into you and he praises the universe when your walls flutter around his fingers.
“Oh my- fuck!” You cry out as you head tips, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping in a silent moan and Jeno feels lightheaded at the newfound, sinful image of you climaxing. Your cunt clamps down on his hand, making it impossible for him to keep thrusting, so he buries his fingers all the way in your pulsating heat and starts harshly rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your thighs start quiverig, eventually closing and trapping his hand between them, preventing him from continuing.
Your expression resembles an angelic one as you take deep breaths, trying to resurface back to sanity. “Jesus.” You whisper, almost like a prayer and he lets out a short breathless laugh, nails scratching the back of your scalp to help you calm down as your body still trembles.
“You good?” He bends down a little, stealing a kiss off your shoulder. The reason unknown to him, but he doesn’t question it either.
“Mhm.” You nod lazily, turning your head to look at him and your fucked out eyes remind him of the big problem in his jeans. “I think we should fuck.” You blurt out unexpectedly and he feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. He thinks exactly the same, he just didn’t expect you to spell it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But then again, you’ve always been the blunt type. A woman who knows what she wants. He’ll bite.
“Do you, now?” He purposely feigns surprise as he drags his fingers out of your now relaxed walls and doesn’t even warn you before hooking his arms underneath you; one around your middle, the other one under your bent knees. Your small yelp makes him smile and your arms coming to wrap around his neck in urgency tug at his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel dizzy.
He carries you for a few seconds as he walks around his bed, dropping you so your head lands on his pillows. You bounce a couple of times before sitting up, resting your weight on your palms.
“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” He asks, trying to maintain a serious tone but removing his t-shirt anyway.
“Just a tad.” You say absentmindedly, eyes shamelessly trailing down his naked torso, landing on his hands as they work his belt undone. Jeno is aware of his above average size, but your eyes slightly widening when he shoves both his jeans and boxers down, definitely do wonders to his ego.
He kneels on the bed, shuffling until he’s situated between your already parted legs. He taps on your chin with his index to get your attention. “You’re drooling. Arms up.” He bites his lip trying to conceal a smile as you sit up properly, extending your arms above your head. “Cute.” He mumbles before dipping down to take hold of the hem of your top, dragging it up and off you, revealing your pretty tits. The lack of bra causes his brain to short circuit for a second before discarding the top somewhere behind him and he doesn’t waste time, moving to unzip your skirt. He smirks at the way you adorably raise your bum to help him remove the last piece of clothing.
“How do you want it?” He asks, trying to sound unaffected, all the while aching to touch you all over, heart threatening to jump out of his chest. You bite your bottom lip in thought, contemplating your options.
“Can I be on top first?” You ask tentatively, neck craning so you can look up at him. You’re so pretty like this. Splayed on his sheets with nothing on but that necklace he can’t seem to get enough of. Jeno nods in understanding, gathering that you’re most likely worried he won’t fit in any other position and he’s more than happy to let you take him however you please.
He plops down next to you on the mattress, still sat up and you quickly follow, dragging your knees on his sheets so you can straddle him. His hands move instinctively, taking hold of your hips, pulling you closer as you slightly hesitate and the second your knees trap his hips between them and your arms wrap loosely around his neck, he allows his own to slither around your middle. Your tits brush against his chest and he has to hold back a groan at the soft sensation.
His eyes find that necklace again and this time he can’t refrain from voicing his thoughts. “That looks good on you.” His chin points at the piece of jewellery and you look down momentarily before realising what he’s referring to.
“Thanks. I like yours.” You pull at his plain silver chain with your fingers, bringing his face closer to yours. Your blush is back, making him feel giddy. What’s wrong with him? He can’t even blame it on the alcohol; he feels mostly sober now.
He trails a hand up your side, palming your breast momentarily before his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, palm coming to rest on the side of your neck, thumb tracing your jawline delicately.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask hesitantly, your lips almost touching.
“You can do anything you want.” He utters quietly and he sighs when you close the tiny gap, your lips moulding against his. You kiss him deep and slow - slower than he’s used to - lightly nipping at his bottom lip, a satisfied hum escaping his chest when your hands tip his head back a little, yours angling to the side so you can deepen the kiss. Your tongue obscenely glides against his, your taste invading his senses and the wet smacks of your lips turn him on even more. His cock twitches between your bodies and he moans when you push him by the shoulders, letting himself land on the pillows, dragging you with him.
“Fuck, how are you so hot?” You whine as you trail kisses down the side of his neck and he huffs out a laugh, the compliment reaching his ears as he feels them getting warmer.
“Have you seen yourself?” He breathes out weakly as you suck on a spot that has him reeling, his hand tangling in your hair to hold you there, giving you permission to mark him.
“Shut up.” You murmur against the sensitive spot, your tongue soothing the scratch of your teeth.
“Fuck you.” He retorts childishly, hands grabbing your ass, squeezing greedily, pushing you downwards as he grinds his hips up, length slipping between your puffy folds, your arousal coating him perfectly. “You’re so wet.” He moans against your shoulder as you keep sucking greedily, and Jeno is positive the spot on his neck will feel sore tomorrow.
You sit up abruptly, eyes finding his, looking enticing as ever, pupils blown out, lips wet and swollen. You shock him when you lewdly dribble in your palm before reaching down to engulf his painfully hard cock in the very same hand.
“Jesus.” He pants as you lather him in your spit and slick, the glide of your hand sensational. You shuffle slightly upwards, aligning him with your entrance and he helps you maintain your balance with his hands on your waist.
“Ah, fuck.” You whine when his tip breaches your snug hole and he feels like he’s losing his mind. There’s no way a pussy can be this wet and feel this good. Your contorted expression tells him you might not be enjoying this as much as he is though, which brings him back to reality.
“You okay?” He drops his hands to your ass cheeks, spreading them as far apart as they can go, hoping the action offers your pussy some relief.
“It stings a bit.” The cute scrunch of your nose makes his heart race, and he has to refrain from fully thrusting into your pulsating heat. “Keep your hands there.” You plead and he does, holding you open as you try to sink down a little further with a whimper of discomfort.
“Come here, kiss me for bit.” His words must affect you, the tightening of your walls suffocating him, but you follow through, arms wrapping securely around his neck as your lips find his again. He kisses you slow, matching your rhythm from before, tongues gliding languidly, still wet and messy, but mostly intimate. Too intimate. And he knows it’s working when your walls start relaxing around him, your cunt producing another gush of slick that drips down to his base.
He takes matters into his own hands, hips raising to thrust into you little by little in quick, short pumps and when your mouth drops open against his, he moans, finding pleasure in pleasuring you.
“Better?” He whispers, searching for any signs of discomfort as your eyebrows crease adorably.
“Uh-huh.” You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you kiss him again, all tongue and teeth, and Jeno doesn’t stop fucking you. Even when he’s fully sheathed in, he keeps going, quickly but gently pumping into your slippery warmth, length barely pulling out before sliding back in. “Fuck, you’re s-so deep.” You whine dreamily and he loves that you’re not moving, hips still, trusting him, taking what he’s giving you from underneath as his hands stay on your ass, holding your cheeks apart just like you asked him to.
When you sit up a little, palms resting on his chest as you start meeting his thrusts, you let out a loud moan and Jeno assumes his cock is hitting exactly where it should be hitting. Your tits are bouncing beautifully, nipples hard from arousal and he wishes he had his mouth all over them, but doesn’t risk changing the angle of his hips, fucking you how you need him to. He doesn’t need your words, just your closed eyes, slack jaw and trembling breaths are enough for him to know you’re lost in pleasure.
“Jen- f-fuck me harder.” Music to his ears.
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Mhm yeah, right there, just harder.” You nod quickly, eyes pleading and how could he ever deny you anything.
“Fuck, baby.” He barely registers the pet name leaving his lips, but he knows it does something to you, pussy gripping him a little tighter than before and when his hips start smacking against yours, ass jiggling in his hands, you both moan loudly.
“Oh, fuck, y-yes, like that.” You cry out, back arching, head tipping backwards in ecstasy and Jeno can’t find it in him to stop staring at you. There’s sweat dripping between your bouncing breasts, and all he can think is how much he wants to lap it up, how much he wants to lather your nipples in his spit and feel the weight of your pretty tits in his palms.
“Rub your clit for me.” He requests in a frenzy, desperate to see you fall apart again. Your ring-clad fingers quickly find the swollen nub, drawing frantic circles around it and Jeno feels his balls tightening at the sight, cock throbbing as he nears his end. Your eyes find his for a split second before they roll back as you visibly start shaking, your hand quickly leaving your clit with a shriek as though the stimulation feels painful. “That’s it.”
He doubles down even through the kneading of your walls around him, thrusts becoming more brutal, balls slapping against your ass. He becomes desperate with the way your nails dig into his chest, his grip on your ass tightening, causing the flesh to ripple. He selfishly hopes his fingers leave bruises, reminding you tonight for days.
He swears the obscene slapping sounds that echo, along with your loud cries of desperation, surpass the best quality porn he’s ever watched. If he could only have a recording of the incoherent blabbering leaving your mouth now, he’d happily ditch all the porn sites and just listen to that whenever he’d want to bust a nut.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You cry out in panic, desperately trying to raise your hips, unable to handle what he’s giving you, but that just urges him to drive into you even harder, refusing to hold back now that he’s got your body spasming hard on his cock. “J-Jen- I c-can't, f-fu-”
He wraps a secure arm around your middle, quickly manoeuvring you on your back and before you can protest, he’s slipping right back inside your warmth, his lips silencing your cries. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he supports his weight on one arm, hooking your leg over his elbow, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. His hips resume their abuse, cock driving into your spent hole repeatedly as he seeks his own release. Your pussy is still quivering around him, forcing a guttural groan out of his chest.
“So fucking good.” He mumbles in utter bliss, your walls squeezing him just right and he accepts defeat, knowing that he can’t last much longer. “Can I cum inside?” He asks for permission, half conscious of the fact that he’s not wearing a condom. He feels helpless.
“Yeah.” Your hands squeeze his biceps in reassurance. “Fill me up, Jen.” You whisper and he swears it’s the most erotic thing a girl has ever said to him during sex. And he’s fucked many girls. None have uttered his name like you do though.
“Shit.” He’s panting uncontrollably, his sweat dripping on your skin, mixing with yours as your hands come to cradle his face in comfort, and he gets this strange feeling in his chest. You’re too tender. Too soft. And then you’re leaning up slightly, kissing him but it’s almost as if he’s forgotten how to use his lips, mouth hanging open against yours, releasing a deep grunt as his orgasm takes over him. His arm starts trembling, struggling to hold him up, blunt nails sinking into the flesh of your thigh as his hips stutter, pumping messily into your wet heat, hot spurts of his release painting your gummy walls, claiming you in the best way possible. He wonders if he’s entered heaven or some unknown dimension, convinced that the way your cunt is milking him is out of this world.
When his thrusts come to a halt, length burying inside you as he releases your leg, he hears the whimper you let out, feels it against his lips and that reminds him to kiss you again. And again. And again. Until you both can’t breathe. Until his lips feel sore. Until you’re desperately pulling at his hair. Until he’s had enough of you. If that’s even possible.
He slips out with a sharp inhale, making you mewl and you’re both looking down, taking in the sight of his now softening cock, all covered in both of your releases. He sits up a little, shamelessly staring at your pulsating hole while forcing your legs wide open. Some of his cum escapes, slowly dripping down to your ass and Jeno feels lightheaded at the sight of your pretty cunt; all puffy and swollen because of him.
“Stop staring you creep.” You complain, playfully kicking him in the ribs as his hold on your inner thighs loosens.
He observes you for a moment; taking in how beautifully ruined you look. Your chest flushed, sweat all over your skin, nipples still slightly erect, tits jiggling a tiny bit from your intense breathing. The blush creeps up to your neck and reaches your cheeks, lips so red and shiny one could think you have a dark shade of lip gloss on. He feels a wave of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that it’s all him; that it’s his spit covering your lips, that your skin is covered in the afterglow of the orgasms he just fucked out of you.
“Going shy on me again?” He teases with a raise of his eyebrows, hand playfully squeezing the flesh of your thigh, before he shuffles upwards, lying next to you on his front, arm lazily draping over your middle as he tries to regulate his breathing.
“What if I closely stared at your dick like I was examining it?” You joke, absentmindedly scratching up and down his arm. He allows his eyes to shut, the relaxing motions of your fingers causing drowsiness to take over him as he shuffles closer to you, seeking more of your warmth.
“Go ahead, I got a pretty good dick.” He mumbles sleepily against your upper arm. You whack him lightly but that still startles him in his woozy state.
“Can you bring me something to clean up with?” You cringe as you rub your thighs together in discomfort and he shoots up from the bed quickly, feeling bad for neglecting you. He so easily sunk into the comfort of your warmth and that scares him a little. This is just sex, right? Nothing too deep. Just sex between two people who were having a shitty night and decided to make it better. Just incredible, mind-blowing sex with the girl he tutors twice a week for extra credit. Right?
The act of aftercare is normally something he indulges in to subtly get rid of the other person. Never intimate, just transactional. In this case, kicking you out hasn’t even crossed his mind. He realises that he wouldn’t mind if you spent the entire night or at least just stayed a little longer. But surely that’s owed to the fact that he knows you in a way. You’re not just a random girl he met and decided to fuck and chuck. You’re friends. Right?
“Shit, yeah, one sec.” He slips out of bed and rushes to his ensuite bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks wrecked; sweat glistening on his skin, lips swollen, the hickey on his neck visible already, dick still shiny with slick and cum. He splashes some cold water on his face and neck, allowing the cooling feeling to wake him up before cleaning himself up.
When he re-enters the room, you’re on your side in foetal position, very clearly asleep and he can’t help the quiet chuckle that leaves him. He carefully rolls you onto your back again and you hum contentedly as he slowly drags the warm damp towel between your legs, cleaning your folds and inner thighs as gently as possible. He feels guilty when he shakes you lightly, waking you up, but he knows you’ll thank him tomorrow.
“You gotta pee first, then we can sleep.” He whispers, careful not to pull you out of your slumber completely.
“I um- I can go home,” You mumble, still half-asleep, clearly dreading the effort. Silly.
“How about just the bathroom, hm?” He scoops you up bridal style again, exactly like he did before, only now you’re completely naked and your head buries in his neck, nuzzling sleepily. “I’ll drive you home tomorrow.” He reassures you and smiles when he feels your arms tighten around his neck.
“You’re actually a sweet guy, aren’t you, Jen?” You mumble dazedly against his skin and he carefully sets you down on the toilet seat.
“Always the tone of surprise.” He teases as he combs your hair out of your face and behind your ears. “Do your thing. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He heads back into his room, picking up your clothes off the floor, folding them neatly on his chair before rifling through his drawers for a comfy t-shirt for you to wear. He hears the faint trickle from the bathroom and can’t help but laugh quietly. A small routine, small domesticity — nothing like him, yet it feels… right. He grabs his phone, sending Renjun three quick texts, hoping his friend is not too drunk to respond.
Jeno: can you bring me a glass of water pls
Jeno: in my room
Jeno: knock.
RJ: on it
RJ: you ok?
Jeno: yeh all good
“I’m done.” Your voice floats from the bathroom, followed by a flush as he puts a clean pair of boxers on before rushing to come get you.
“Hey, lazy bum.” He enters to find you perched exactly where he left you, elbows on your knees. “Did you wipe, or do you want me to do that for you too?” He teases and you whine sleepily, face buried in your hands.
“I did. I promise.”
“Good. Now arms up.” You comply without a question, and he carefully slips the t-shirt on you, warmth spreading in his chest when you sigh at the comfort of cotton, hugging your arms to yourself. You blink up at him, looking soft as ever as you make grabby hands, and his insides almost melt at the cuteness.
Why does he feel this sudden urge to coddle you? Sure, Jeno likes looking after his friends, making sure they’re happy and healthy, but this is different. In all his sexual encounters, he’s always maintained boundaries — never lent clothes, never ensured a girl didn’t get a UTI, never carried them around.
With you, he finds that he’s already broken most of those boundaries in one single night. And he doesn’t know why.
He carries you back to the bed, only this time you cling onto him like a koala bear, arms and legs wrapped around him in a tight hug. He puts you down gently, tucks you in with the duvet, smoothing it over you, making sure you’re comfortable. A knock on the door makes you blink in question.
“It’s just my housemate.” He reassures before getting up to crack the door open.
“Here you go, sir.” Renjun presents him with a pint of water and Jeno gratefully accepts it with a smile.
“Thanks.” He goes to shut the door again, but Renjun quickly stops him.
“Dude, what’s going on?” A worrisome expression on his face.
“Nothing. I’m just- I'm not alone.” Jeno points his thumb behind him, without really allowing Renjun to look inside his room.
“Oh.” Renjun almost looks surprised, an inquisitive look taking over his face which makes Jeno feel scrutinised. His friends know him well enough to know that he doesn’t just hide girls in his room.
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” He assures his friend, silently implying that he can’t elaborate right now. Thankfully Renjun catches on quick and turns to leave after giving him a thumbs up. Jeno doesn’t fail to give him a fond smile for respecting his privacy. It’s one of the things he loves the most about that boy; he doesn’t hover, unless he’s needed.
Jeno takes a couple of gulps before placing the glass of water on the nightstand next to you. Your eyes are closed again and when he quietly joins you under the covers, he feels you shift next to him. He checks if your eyes are still closed and when he confirms they are, he turns off the bedside lamp, allowing the darkness to engulf both of you.
He’s lying on his back; arm folded under his head as he contemplates the choices he’s made tonight. Your stable breathing calms him in a way, and he finds himself trying to match your rhythm. When your hand brushes against his arm, fingers curling around just above his elbow, he freezes slightly, savouring the small contact.
“Jen?” You whisper, as if checking he’s still there with you.
“Hm?”
“I don’t want things to be weird.” Fuck.
“They won’t be.” He turns toward you, voice soft, though the darkness obscures your features.
“How do you know that?” You’re still whispering and he doesn’t know why, since you’re the only two people in the room. He matches your tone anyway.
“I mean...” His words falter briefly as your grip tightens. “Things don’t have to be weird, right?” Your fingers loosen, but they remain there and Jeno has trouble breathing. It’s not that deep, he thinks to himself.
“Right.” You’re not convinced; he can tell. And neither is he.
“You’re overthinking.” No shit, Sherlock.
Your sigh lands on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He senses you closer than he expected. “And you’re not?”
It’s his turn to let out a sigh this time.
“Right.” Your tone cools, as though distancing yourself slightly. Your hand remains, a tether.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N.” He sounds defeated and he wishes he could give you the reassurance you’re looking for. He can’t though. Not without lying.
“Do you want me to leave?” Your question takes him aback.
“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying, Y/N.” He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation.
“Stop saying my name like that.” Your voice not a whisper anymore and that does something to his head.
“Like what?” He provokes, tone harsher than intended.
“Like I’m a problem you can’t be bothered to deal with.” Your words pull him under, and he pauses to recollect his thoughts. He doesn’t want to argue, but it seems you do and Jeno is confused. Did he just imagine the last hour?
He rolls on his side to face you, and you let your hand fall from his arm. He feels the absence. “Can we please talk about this tomorrow? With clear heads?”
You shuffle closer and his heart thuds a little faster, your knee bumping into his accidentally. “Okay.” You whisper after you’ve settled into a more comfortable position, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, Jeno senses a hesitancy in your movements.
“You can move closer.” He smiles fondly and relief floods him when your arm wraps around his waist. He draws you in, fingers stroking the nape of your neck, tucking your head under his chin. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said.”
“Shh.” You scold, earning a tiny laugh from him.
“You’re funny.” He whispers into your hair, nails softly scratching your scalp, making you shudder.
“You’re not.” You retort, half-mumbled, and he snorts. His distress has somewhat dissolved, however the tension and confusion linger and Jeno prays that a goodnight’s sleep will fix whatever it is that broke between you and him tonight.
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Jeno gets woken up by an involuntary twitch of his own body and when he slowly cracks his eyes open, he’s reminded that he once again forgot to roll his blinds down, allowing the morning sunlight to invade his room.
He attempts to get into a more comfortable position, the fruity scent you carry drifts over him, and he relaxes — you’re still here, safe and real, reminding him that last night wasn’t just a fraction of his imagination.
You’re clinging onto him; cheek squished against his chest and he’s pretty sure you’re drooling on him. He feels a laugh bubbling in his chest, but he holds it in, not wanting to wake you yet.
The position you’re both in is slightly different to the one Jeno remembers falling asleep in. You’re using him as your pillow, your leg comfortably draped over his crotch, arm hugging his middle as though he’s your favourite teddy bear and he’s convinced that you must own one with the way you cling onto him like it’s a habit.
He raises his sprawled arm to wrap it around you and the second his hand finds your lower back, he assumes the shirt he put on you last night must have ridden up. His fingers splay just above your ass and he’s instantly reminded of your naked bottom half. He vividly remembers picking up your underwear off the floor last night, along with the rest of your clothes.
The thought of your nakedness brings him back to last night. Back to what you two did and how good you looked on top of him. And under him. And on his floor. His mind drifts from your smooth skin to the way you kissed him, to the way you took everything he gave you like you were made for it, like you craved it. He knows he shouldn’t. Especially when you’re soundly asleep in his arms, but Jeno has to suppress a groan at the thought of your warm and wet p-
Your sleepy hum pulls him back to reality and he mentally presses pause on the daydreaming session, but your bent knee nudging against his half hard dick doesn’t make things easy for him. Stupid morning wood, he thinks, as if his dirty mind didn’t just cause this.
He keeps his eyes shut, trying to think of dead puppies or his gran and it seems to be working, until your body moves, your face nuzzling in his neck, knee dragging over his crotch. The long sigh you let out against his skin, causes goosebumps to raise and he mentally curses.
Redirecting his focus to your comfort, he allows his knuckles to trace gentle circles along your spine, and he smiles when you shudder slightly, the little tremble of your body sparking a sense of delight within him.
“You awake?” You mumble in his neck, the tiny movement of your lips barely even there, but still enough to tickle him.
“Just about.” His voice comes out raspy, vocal cords still half asleep, causing him to clear his throat. He subtly wiggles his hips a little further down the mattress to escape the pressure of your knee and when you move with him, clinging onto him with a whine, he can’t help but use his free hand to steady you, forcing your leg further up his torso to ease the pressure.
“Sorry.” You whisper into his skin. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No.” He reassuringly squeezes your thigh, thumb gingerly caressing the surface. “You?”
“No. Surprisingly.” If his eyes were open, Jeno would have rolled them in annoyance.
“Yeah, cause you’re always so uncomfortable around me.” His tone full of sarcasm, but he can’t help it. If you’re going to give him attitude, you’re going to get it back. Especially this early in the day when he’s slightly hungover and has not had his morning coffee.
“Grow up. You know what I mean.” Your humourless words contrast the way your fingers softly trace the line of his collarbone, a quiet familiarity in the gesture.
“You thought it would be awkward?”
“Didn’t you?” Your head moves, nose rubbing against his jaw, and he knows you’re looking at him. He adamantly keeps his eyes closed.
“What, just cause we fucked?” The light slap he receives on his chest makes him chuckle. He’s always enjoyed getting under your skin, but for some reason, now that you’re half naked in his bed, it’s even more rewarding. “It would have been awkward only if the sex was bad.”
You keep quiet and Jeno gives into the urge to turn his head and look at you, blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the sunlight. He raises his eyebrows expectantly as he dips his hand under your loose shirt, fingertips light as air, traveling up and down your spine slowly.
“Is this you indirectly asking if I liked it or not?” Your eyebrows raise in response, mirroring his expression.
“No, I already know you liked it. Just wanna know if it altered your brain chemistry.” He smirks at the way you roll your eyes, and if he didn’t know you to a certain extent, Jeno would really think you’re annoyed, but he recognises your usual façade.
“Mind-blowing sex isn’t the answer to everything Lee Jeno.” Your hand engulfs his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks and shaking his face from side to side gently. “I’m one of the very few female friends you have and you’ve already stuck your penis in me. Raw.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you very blatantly ask me to fuck you?” His pointed look gets a surrendering smile out of you, hand now settling on the side of his neck. He’s not even fazed by your proximity; noses almost touching, bodies flush against each other like you’ve done this a million times.
“You stuck you tongue down my throat and then fingered me like nobody’s business. I’m only human.” Your bluntness makes him grin.
“So, what’s the problem? We both wanted it, no?” He rolls to face you fully, leg fitting naturally between yours, touch grounding yet intimate. He tries his hardest to keep his attention on you, but the whimper you let out shows him you’re just as affected, and his hand has somehow fallen on your ass.
“Why did you want it?” The question catches him off guard; your inquisitive eyes making his heart stutter.
“I was horny. And lonely. And you looked good. I mean...You always look good, I just-” He takes a breath to compose himself. Since when does he have trouble expressing himself in front of a woman?
“Relax, it’s not a test, I’m just genuinely curious.” Your chuckle and your fingers lightly pushing his fringe out of the way help him compose his chaotic brain just a little.
“I dunno. I just wanted you.” He settles for honesty and if that comes to bite him in the ass later, then so be it. “That too shallow for you?”
“No.” Your eyes travel around his face as you’re in deep thought and Jeno feels impatience creeping up on him.
“But?” He challenges, knowing it can’t be that simple.
“But, I don’t know if I can be normal around you now.” You purse your lips as you brush his bottom one with your thumb and he stops breathing for a second, his heart rate increasing significantly. “I don’t really do casual sex.”
He likes your honesty.
“When have you ever been normal around me, Y/N?” His light-hearted comment earns him a bashful smile from you, your thumb now tracing his cheekbone as he playfully gropes the part where your thigh connects to your ass. “Look, I’m not expecting anything. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go back to normal. You get your tutoring. I get my extra credit.”
“And you’d be happy with that?” Good question.
“I’m a big boy. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you want.” He offers a way out, but part of him hopes you don’t take it.
“What if I don’t know what I want?” Your eyes close, a long sigh escaping through your nose. He wants nothing more than to make it easier for you.
He smiles, conflicted.
“Then… I dunno. I guess we figure it out.” He says it casual, like it’s nothing — but his stomach twists anyway.
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The drive back to yours is quiet. Not uncomfortable, but definitely unusual. Neither you nor Jeno are usually this quiet around each other but now your thoughts are too loud and so are your doubts.
You barely register the car coming to a stop, having completely spaced out. It’s Jeno’s voice that brings you back to reality.
“Is here fine?”
“Hm? Yeah. Here’s great. Thanks for the lift.” His eyes are already on you when you look over at him, expectant and unsure. The corner of his mouth lifts subtly, a small smile forming as a response to your gratitude.
“I’ll see you Tuesday?” The tapping of his fingers against the wheel sounds louder that it should.
“Yeah. Tuesday.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.” You repeat dumbly, not sure how to approach your next words.
“Are y-”
“This shouldn’t happen again.” You blurt out and the tapping stops, his eyebrows raising slightly, but other than that, he remains calm.
“Alright.” He nods understandingly. “It won’t.” The warmth and playfulness his voice held until this morning, long gone.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He shrugs, his fake nonchalance sitting heavy in your stomach.
“I dunno. I feel like-”
“Y/N.” His hand finds your shoulder, hold grounding. “We’re good. Honest.” He turns in his seat, facing you better. “People have sex all the time. It’s not that deep.” He squeezes your shoulder once, barely there but you still feel it as his neutral smile does very little to convince you. Simply because it doesn’t reach his eyes. You hate this unfamiliar side of him.
“It’s fine if you don’t wanna tutor me anymore.”
“I do.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, touch reassuring.
“You sure?”
“I am. As long as you are.” Another subtle squeeze, now on your upper arm, his hand having slid down. “Plus...I really need the extra credit.” His playfulness is back, and you can’t hold back the sheepish smile that takes over your face.
“Okay then.” You exhale, somewhat relieved.
“Okay then.” He repeats, light-heartedly, the warm smile now reaching his eyes as his warm hand slides further down your arm before he completely retracts. The gesture should soothe you, but it somehow unsettles you.
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Next time you see him is indeed Tuesday. Your regular first session of the week. And it’s all fine. It’s all normal. It’s all good.
Until it isn’t.
Until you see a text pop up on his screen. Yuna.
We still on for tonight? It reads and you quickly avert your eyes back on the histogram displayed on your laptop screen. Something about a survey, a sample and frequencies. It’s all a mess now. Who the fuck is Yuna? And why is she texting him? What about tonight?
You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t. But then he’s quickly typing a response you can’t see and he places his phone face down. Like it never happened.
“What’d you get?” He interrupts your ridiculous thoughts as he leans over your shoulder to take a look at the scribbles on your notepad. “Correct formula. Wrong result.”
“What? Why?” You’re more annoyed than you should be. His raised eyebrows betray his shock at your abrupt tone.
“You’re asking me why you can’t count?” His smirk is worth slapping off. “Check your total number of observations again.” He taps his pen on the letter n and when you count again, you realise it’s 6 instead of 5. Great. You really can’t count.
“That’s just a silly mistake.”
“Which will cost you a whole lot of marks.” He does this thing where he twirls the pen between his index and middle finger, and it shouldn’t be that attractive. “You see, it’s not a matter of logic with you. You just need to concentrate.” He’s enjoying this too much. His smile audible.
“I am concentrated.” You state stubbornly.
“Concentrate better.”
“Fuck off.”
His lack of response causes you to look at him. His neutral eyes and pursed lips tell you he’s not going to entertain whatever argument you’re trying to start and that agitates you even more. So does his stupid cologne. And the fact that he’s so close still. His forearm is now resting on your notepad and all you can think of is how prettily it flexed when it was between your thighs.
“Sorry.” You sigh, slumping back into your chair, looking around the quiet café. You need air and all you keep getting is his scent. It’s not fair.
“Am I allowed to ask?” His tone is tentative, but present.
“Ask what?”
“What’s bothering you.” He starts going over what you’ve written on your notepad with his pen, overlining letters and numbers, following every curve. You glance at his profile for a moment and you’re thankful he’s now focused on the page in front of you.
“Nothing is bothering me.” You cross your arms over your chest defensively.
“Lie better.” The corner of his lips twitches as he keeps outlining, still not looking at you. Smug bastard.
“Is it me?” He side-eyes you for a split second, gaze meeting yours before dropping back down to the mistaken 5 you wrote down earlier. It’s like an insult.
“That’s awfully egotistical of you.” You challenge, making him struggle to hold back his smile. “What makes you think that?”
He shrugs. “Just a hunch.”
You lean over, elbow on the table, chin resting on your palm, closer now. “Not everything is about you, Jeno.” You say as calmly as possible.
His pen comes to a halt. Eyes catching yours without backing down now.
“As if you don’t think about me 24/7.” It’s a joke, but it’s not.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” You shouldn’t give into it. Into his flirting. But he makes it almost impossible to behave.
“Is it bad if I do?”
“Not bad. You’re just wrong.”
“Like your calculations.”
“What?”
“Solve it again. No calculator. Not like it helped you the first time anyway.” He leans back in his chair with an unbothered expression, pen dropping dismissively on your notepad as he resembles your stance, arms crossing over his buff chest. “Go on, I don’t have all day.” He points his chin to the page smugly. Did he just...play you?
“Prick.”
“Mhm.”
Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? If so, then you’re astronomically fucked.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Two weeks go by. Four tutoring sessions with Jeno — all pure torture. But somehow, focusing on the calculations and formulas actually pays off. You don’t ask as many questions anymore, you get the correct results most of the time, and you even score 76% on the mock test Jeno printed out for you.
A glimmer of surprise flashes across his face when he finishes grading, but it quickly softens into something pleased. Proud, almost.
“Nice one,” he says, head bobbing in approval. “Let’s get to 80 next time.”
You like that look on him. Like that he’s proud of you. You wish you could see it more often.
But the wish evaporates the second you lay eyes on him tonight. Regret floods you for giving in to Mark’s pleas to come to this stupid party. As if the man needs a wingman — he always does fine on his own. And so does Jeno, by the looks of it. But you already knew that. So why does your chest tighten when you see a girl standing between his spread legs, his casual perch on the kitchen counter, plastic cup in one hand, the other tucked in his hoodie pocket?
He’s not touching her, but her hands are on his thighs, and even from behind her head, you see his face clearly. Smirking, dark eyes checking her out as he sips his drink. There’s no trace of innocence in the way he’s looking at her. It’s the same way he looked at you that night in his room.
You know you’re out of bounds. Yet jealousy gnaws at you, and you hate yourself for it. It shouldn’t affect you. You rejected him — or whatever that was. He should be the one pining, not you. But he’s fine, and here you are, still haunted by how warm and safe his body felt that morning.
It’s unfair.
Unfair in every way: the way he doesn’t spare you a glance, the way his eyes are fixed on her, the way he chuckles at whatever she says, the way he looks so good even while flirting with someone else.
Hood up, fringe falling messily over his eyes. He looks soft but dangerous at the same time. Effortless. Sleeves pushed up, baggy cargos that only he can pull off. He’s hotter than ever — and she’s touching him. Not you. He’s looking at her. Not you. Laughing with her. Not you. Not you. Not you.
“Dude, you’re staring.” Mark steps in, blocking your view of the kitchen and yanking you out of your trance. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Maybe you’re being dramatic — but Mark won’t judge. He knows. “That bad, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up.” You mumble into your palms, relaxing slightly as Mark wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying your face in his chest and lightly swaying you from side to side.
“Awh c’mon… you’re good.” Mark shakes you playfully, helping your shoulders loosen. “It’s okay to be jealous.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear him.
“This is not helping you with the babes, I’m sorry.” You wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the comfort of your friend’s embrace — and you really shouldn’t — but you sneak a glance over his shoulder. Jeno is still there, the girl still perched between his legs, still talking. But his eyes are very clearly on you. Expression neutral, as always, never giving anything away. Yet if you were to guess, he looks conflicted — maybe a little annoyed.
Fuck this. You refuse to stare, burying your face deeper into Mark’s neck instead.
“Are you two planning on fucking tonight?” A boyish voice interrupts the moment. Pulling back, you see a boy standing next to you. You recognise him — always with Jeno or some girl you’d assume is his girlfriend. And he’s in your stupid stats class, too.
“Dude, have some decorum.” Mark protests, keeping one arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “Y/N, this is Haechan. Haechan, this is Y/N.”
“Hi, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Weird, you decide.
“Umm I don’t think I—”
“No time for that. Beer pong. Me and my girl versus you two. In or out?” Haechan cuts you off, no hesitation. As much as his energy overwhelms you, a game that involves alcohol sounds like a perfect distraction.
Mark looks over at you questioningly.
“In.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Easy. That’s what beating Haechan and his girlfriend was. Too easy. And you’re currently obliterating Chenle and this boy, Renjun, who you’re pretty sure is Jeno’s housemate.
You make the last shot. In. Some boys around the table cheer, some point fingers at the losing team, laughing at them.
“Let’s fucking go!” Mark grabs your shoulders from behind, shaking you and you can’t help but laugh at his dramatics.
“You just got lucky.” Haechan complains loudly.
“You can’t get lucky twice.” You point out as you rearrange the cups back to a perfect pyramid shape.
“You’re just a sore loser, dude.” Mark throws the ping pong ball at the weird boy, sticking his tongue out and Haechan looks like he’s had an epiphany.
“Maybe you should play against our champions.” He says with a glint of mischief written all over his face.
“Nah, I’m-”
“Someone get Jeno and Jaemin.” Haechan interrupts you for the second time tonight and now he’s seriously starting to annoy you.
“Someone else can take my spot.” You say nonchalantly as you place the last cup at the top of the pyramid.
“Oh, grow up.” Haechan challenges again.
“Get off my back. Respectfully.”
“Didn’t think you’d be boring. Respectfully.” He’s hinting at something you can’t quite decipher, but somehow you know Jeno has something to do with it.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You raise your voice a few decibels as you step closer to the annoying boy.
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, like his words didn’t hold some cryptic meaning.
“Care to elaborate?” You stand in front of him, arms crossing over your chest expectantly, eyebrow raising and he smirks. As though getting on your nerves is his newfound hobby. Seriously, what is this dude’s problem?
“Oh, you know, just that you’re a-”
“Yooo okay, let’s break it off.” Jeno’s voice cuts in before his friend can finish his sentence and suddenly, you’re being dragged away from the scene and the people that have gathered around without you noticing. You try to stand your ground, pulling away from the hand around your elbow and before you can approach smug Haechan again, Jeno stands in front of you.
“Walk away. Right now. Please.” His expression is unreadable, but he’s definitely not pleased. You can figure that much out.
“What’s it to you?” You challenge, suspicious of his involvement.
His eyes close for a second, jaw clenching, as though he’s collecting himself and Haechan’s voice cuts through again. “Yeah, Jen-Jen, what’s it to you?”
Jeno just steps closer to you, shielding you from his friend’s antics and before you have time to react, he’s dragging you away again. Hand tight around your wrist and you let him. Not before you look back, only to find Haechan wiggling his fingers at you in a playful wave and you can’t help but flip him off. His laugh is loud and if it weren’t for Jeno, the alcohol in your system would have prompted you to start a fight. How can someone be so irritating?
Once you’re out in the back garden, you force your arm out of Jeno’s hold.
“Chill.” His instruction makes your blood boil.
“What the fuck!” You shout loud enough to get some heads turning, interrupting their smoking sessions. Jeno just chuckles, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s so funny?” You’re quieter now but you make sure to keep the cold tone on.
“Are you a child?” He asks with an amused smile as he leans his weight against the wall and if you weren’t so pissed off, you’d swoon at how good he looks right now.
“He started it.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a child.” Jeno points out like it’s a fact you should be aware of. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie and you realise how chilly it actually is.
“I’m assuming he knows me as the slut who slept with his friend just to get over her ex.” You move to lean against the wall next to him and he snorts at your comment.
“You know I don’t slut shame.” He says casually, his breath visible in the cold air. “Besides, is that what that was?” He’s looking down at his shoes as he kicks some pebbles into the grass. “Rebound sex?”
“You know it wasn’t.”
“So, why do you care about what Haechan thinks?”
“Cause he’s your friend.”
“He’s also a wind up.” Jeno turns his head to look down at you. “And you let him get to you.”
“He’s fucking annoying is what he is.” You scan the garden as you rest your hands behind your back, preventing the concrete from digging into your ass.
“Yeah, he’s for the thick skinned.” He says it with fondness, and it baffles you. “His girlfriend tolerates him just fine, so he must be doing something right.”
“An unsolvable mystery.” You mumble and Jeno chuckles, though you weren’t really joking.
There’s a pause. A comfortable silence between you, which in that moment you really appreciate.
“Didn’t know you were that good at beer pong.” Jeno elbows your side playfully and you almost smile, but then you remember that the only reason you decided to play was to distract yourself from him and the girl who was feeling him up.
“Surprised you even saw that.” It’s meant to be teasing, light-hearted. It’s anything but that.
“Why’s that?” His tone is devoid of any playfulness now.
“You just looked...busy.” You refuse to look at him but you feel his stare on your side profile. You feel hot all of a sudden. Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?
“So?”
“So, nothing. Just an observation.” You try your best to stay calm, but your pulse has increased significantly and you feel like throwing up. Jeno’s scoff is difficult to ignore.
“I don’t get you, Y/N.” You’re still adamantly looking anywhere else but at him, but you can imagine his expression. He’s definitely doing that thing he does with his eyebrows when he’s confused. The one that makes him look like a puppy. And you hate yourself. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” You defend quickly.
“Right.”
“What do you want from me, Jeno?” You close your eyes in exasperation.
“No. What do you want?” He moves to stand in front of you now, giving you no option but to look at him. “You fucking rejected me. You don’t get to be jealous. So why am in the wrong here?”
God, you’re such an idiot.
“What exactly did I reject?”
“What?” Genuine confusion painted all over his face.
“What did you expect? That we’d keep fucking and live happily ever after? I’m sorry, I don’t do that shit. I can’t.” Words leave before thought; regret floods instantly. You expect him to argue back, to shout, to react, but his next words hurt you even more.
“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this.” He shakes his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping.
“Not doing what?”
“I’m not gonna argue with you, when you’ve already come to your conclusions.”
“So, I’m wrong then? Did you want a relationship with me? Did you wanna take me to bruch? Buy me flowers? Introduce me to your parents?” Silence. “You said it yourself. You were horny and I happened to be there. A girl doesn’t give you what you want and you act like your heart is broken. Boo-hoo, wah-wah, grow the fuck up.”
For the first time in the four months you’ve known the boy in front of you, his face is not stoic. He looks enraged, disgusted even. “You’re a fucking joke, Y/N.”
You don’t even know what can beat that. He’s right.
He steps closer and you wish you weren’t backed up against the wall. He’s too close. “I don’t know who fucking hurt you, and I don’t give a shit quite frankly. What I do know is I’m not a punching bag and I don’t like games.”
“I’m not playing a game.”
“No?” His head tilts.
“No.” Your voice comes out weak. He’s suffocating you and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Your stomach heavy.
“You say you don’t want me. Then you flirt with me every chance you get. You get moody whenever a girl’s name pops up on my phone. You hate when my attention isn’t on you. You get jealous. You make petty comments. You can’t even look at me right now. Should I go on?”
Are you really that obvious? If you had balls, he’d have you by them.
“I might fuck around, but at least I’m honest about what I want.” His index and middle finger poke you on the chest, right in the middle and he might as well carve your heart out at this point. “You’re the game player here. Not me.” He says quietly, but the words echo loudly in your head.
You blink and there’s wetness dripping down your cheek and the only thing you can do is nod, eyes avoiding his again, the stamp on his hoodie a lot more interesting, but blurry as another tear escapes. It’s not sadness. It’s anger. You’re angry with yourself mostly, but also him. Because he confuses you. Because he makes you feel vulnerable. Because he makes your heart do things it shouldn’t. And he scares you. So much. The way he grounds you scares you. The way he always talks sense scares you. The way he understands you scares you. The way he sees you...it scares you.
“Why are you crying?” There’s no malice laced with his words, just worry. A genuine question. Whispered.
“I wanna go home.” If misery could be pictured, it would be you. You sound like a spoilt child that didn’t get their favourite toy on Christmas day.
“Okay.” He doesn’t move and neither do you. You can feel his eyes on your face and you can’t help but look into them when his thumb wipes the tears off your cheek. His palm feels warm on your cold skin, soothing your heart and you wish you could bury your whole being in it. You just hide your face in it for now.
“I don’t like you when you’re mean.” You sniffle a little, half aware that he’s stepped closer now. His familiar clean scent engulfs you and you sigh in contentment. Your hands instinctively grab onto each side of his hoodie pocket and when you look up at him, you can tell he’s trying to fight off a smile. His features are on the softer side again, puppy-like. The fairy lights reflect on his eyes, illuminating tiny little star-like specks.
“Don’t make me act mean then.” His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Your pride wants you to push him away, but for some reason you let him touch you. You also let your forehead rest on his sternum, and you let his arms wrap around your shoulders, hugging you into him, into his warmth. The embrace is very similar to the one Mark gave you earlier, but so different in so many ways. It calms you like no other hug ever could. Like no one could ever compare. And maybe no one can.
“Are you still mad?” Your question is muffled by the fabric of his jumper, cheek squished against his chest, eyes closed as you bask in the proximity.
“Mhm.” He answers a little too quickly for your liking, but his arms tighten a little more around you and you can’t fight off the tiny smile that threatens to take over your face.
“Do you still like me?” You feel him tense just then and your arms wrap around his middle in fear of him pulling away.
“I mean...” You feel his chest move as he exhales loudly, his chin rests on your head. “I don’t hate you.”
“Good.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
It’s two days later that you decide to face the problem that is Lee Jeno. A normal late Sunday afternoon. You’ve done your shopping for the week, gone over some lecture notes, caught up on all your uni emails, procrastinated, even gone on a run to convince yourself that you didn’t just sit around all day. You send the text before you can talk yourself out of it, and when 15 minutes go by without a response, you start to regret it.
Are you busy tonight?
The screen laughs in your face each time you check your phone and see no new notification. Why did you decide to act brave tonight? Why are you so stupid? Of course he’s busy. He’s probably in bed with that Yuna girl, altering her brain chemistry like he did yours. You wonder if he cuddles all the girls he sleeps with like he cuddled you. All careful and possessive.
You’re about to change into your pyjamas when you hear it.
Ding.
Jeno: just got back from the gym
Jeno: need a shower and then i can be free
Jeno: how come?
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Do you reply now, or should you give it some time? Make him wait like he made you wait? NO. No games. He said it himself.
You: come to mine?
You: gigi and mark are out
You: we can talk
You: you want
You: *if
Your fingers are shaking so much you forgo typing a whole word and you can only hope he’s not laughing at you when you send the correction. Five long minutes go by before he replies again.
Jeno: i want
Jeno: gimme 30 mins
You snort at the text mocking your typo. Of course he won’t pass an opportunity to tease you. He definitely knows you’re shitting bricks.
You react with a thumbs up before you start pacing around your apartment, looking for things to do until he arrives.
First you wash up the few forgotten mugs in the kitchen sink. Then you reorganise the cereal boxes that Giselle and Mark always mess up.
He texts you a simple omw when you’re contemplating whether you should put on jeans or keep your joggers on. You decide on the latter. No need to try hard.
He knocks when you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for the second consecutive time, which you’re starting to regret because your gums sting now.
You take a deep breath before opening the door and when you do, he’s standing right there, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool as ever. His signature look. Attire matches yours: big hoodie and baggy joggers, emitting comfort and softness.
His eyes scan you like yours scan him. Head to toe. “Cute socks.” He nods in approval and when you look down at your feet, you realise you’re wearing fuzzy Christmas socks with little mistletoes on them. Great. “Swear Christmas was like a month ago.”
“They’re warm.” You step aside to let him in, and he quickly takes his shoes and jacket off by the door before trailing toward the living room area. You observe him as he carefully places his thick jacket on the back of the sofa. He inspects the room like he’s never been in your apartment before. It feels oddly domestic when he’s not here for a tutoring session.
You set your phone on silent and quickly notice the time. Apart from the fact that he’s five minutes early, it dawns on you that it’s dinner time.
“You hungry?” The words slip before you can stop them, and he swiftly turns around to look at you. You’re still leaning against the door as he plops down on the sofa armrest.
“I could eat.” He shrugs with a lopsided smile. He looks so boyfriend-coded like this. So warm and soft. Just lounging around your living room. “Unless you’re cooking.” His eyes are full of mischief, smile cheeky.
“I mean, I was thinking of ordering, but you can starve if you’re gonna insult me in my own home.”
He ends up placing the order. Something about a deal on his Deliveroo, but you know he just didn’t want you paying. Just like when he never lets you pay for your coffee but complains when you occasionally pay for his.
He’s munching on a dumpling when you’ve run out of things to talk about. You’ve covered the hangover you were both nursing the day before, his gym session and how he got hit on by a guy, your running session and how you got drenched by the rain, the stats chapter you’ll be entering next week, the fact that you both have a seminar tomorrow morning, the fact that you might skip. You talk about anything and everything but what you both really want to talk about.
“Did you stay long on Friday after I left?” You ask casually as you blow on your spring roll to help cool it down.
He shakes his head. “Nah. You left at the right time. It was dead after.” He drops his chopsticks on his plate and grabs a napkin for his hands.
“What about the girl you were with?” It slips. But at least it doesn’t sound malicious. Your eyes meet for half a second and you almost laugh at the side-eye he gives you.
“Still not over that?” He leans back on the sofa, getting more comfortable, legs spreading a little as he sips on his water.
“It’s just a question. Don’t deep it.” You take a sip of your own water before turning your body completely toward him, legs criss-crossing, arm resting on the back of the sofa.
He pulls his hood up as he slides a little further down the cushions, almost as though you’ve put him on the spot and he’s trying to hide. You find it amusing. “Nothing happened if that’s what you’re asking.” No glance toward you still; he’s too busy trying to stabilize the half-empty water bottle on his stomach and only when he fails for the third time does he look at you.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t really my type.”
You nod. “Didn’t realize you had one of those.” You twirl one of your rings with your thumb. You feel nervous suddenly but choose to push your sarcasm forward.
He blinks, unamused. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
“I judged you.” You say quickly, refusing to back down now. His eyebrows tense a little, emitting confusion for just a second. “And I’m sorry.” You chew on the inside of your cheek as you wait for a response.
He nods just once before averting his attention to the bottle again. “You’re not the first or the last person to do that.”
“I have trouble seeing the good in people.” You avert your eyes to the loose thread on your sleeve. It’s difficult staying afloat when he looks at you the way he always does. Like you’re easy to read.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” You detect a smile in his tone and you hate that you don’t have to see it to know it’s there. You expect him to ask why. He doesn’t; you sense his contemplative eyes on you still. A beat of silence passes and you find yourself trapped in it, struggling to utter more words. He helps with the worst possible question. “Why did you sleep with me, Y/N?”
“Don’t say it like that.” You let out a humourless laugh.
“Like what?” There’s expectancy in his voice. His restraint is slowly breaking.
“Like I lured you in or something.” You pull the loose thread harder. He lets out a short laugh. It sounds accidental.
“Just answer the question.” He taps on the plastic bottle as if to get your attention. “And look at me.” His eyebrows lift momentarily when you do, like a greeting. The situation seems awfully comical—or maybe it’s the fact that you struggle to stay serious in serious situations. He mirrors your barely-there smile regardless.
“There’s not just a single reason.” You can’t be more honest than that.
“Okay, so name three.” He holds his thumb, index, and middle finger up, wiggling them as he waits for you to start listing. “Go on.” He nods when he senses your hesitation.
You sigh dramatically as you look around the room, like the answers are hidden in the furniture. “I guess you’re attractive.”
“That doesn’t count. I want profound stuff.”
You scoff. “Since when?” You raise an eyebrow and his pointed look makes you back down, his three fingers waving slightly, demanding.
“You made me feel comfortable.”
Middle finger down.
“I was intrigued.”
Pointer down. He nods again when you pause for too long. It takes everything not to look down, but you don’t.
“Felt right.”
“And now it doesn’t?” He’s quick. No hesitation. No whys and hows. He sits up and turns to look at you properly, mirroring your position. One arm drapes over the back of the sofa while the other holds onto the water bottle still, one leg folded under him, the other hanging off the sofa. You like that he’s comfortable in your vicinity; it calms the turmoil inside you.
“It does. It’s just confusing.” You admit. His eyes look more alive now.
“What’s so confusing? People fancy each other. They fuck. They either make it a thing or they don’t.” For someone who normally reads you in no time, he seems to be struggling now.
“Jen, this isn’t stats. It’s not that simple.” You smile fondly at his confusion. “Besides, what exactly is this thing we could make it into?” You can almost see the gears spinning in his head. This, he doesn’t seem to have an answer for.
“This might sound wild, but I happen to know what dating is.” His widened eyes evoke a laugh out of you. Maybe he did have an answer after all.
“You wanna date me.” You deliver the question in deadpan tone.
He tilts his head a little. “Would that be so terrible?”
You purse your lips in thought. Would it? “Do you understand what that entails?” God, you sound so condescending. Like a middle-aged person.
“God forbid we go somewhere other than a café and talk about something other than stats.” The sarcasm in his voice makes you roll your eyes. Mostly because it makes him sound hot. You almost flinch when he shuffles closer, his knee touching yours. He drops the bottle he’s been fiddling with somewhere behind him and his fingers find yours in a heartbeat. Like he didn’t even think about it. Like it’s reflex.
“That’s not what I mean.” You know he knows, but you say it anyway. Your eyes find your hand in his, thumb stroking your knuckles gently before gliding over a ring, finding a new toy to fiddle with.
“I’ll be good to you.” You bring your gaze to his face. He looks almost shy, eyes on your hands and if the lighting were stronger, you might have been able to spot the blush on his cheeks better. You imagine it for now. “I don’t expect you to trust me from the get-go.” He chews on his bottom lip for a second. “But maybe— you know—maybe eventually...” He looks up, scanning your face for a reaction, which you try tremendously hard not to give because you just happen to love a pathetic man. He’s unsure, but he’s trying. You’ll give him that.
“Ask me properly.” You squeeze his fingers once and he has the cutest look of hope on his face.
“You’re going on a date with me.”
“I said ask—”
“I’m telling you.” He tugs on your arm playfully and you can’t help but gleam at his unusually playful antics.
“Alright.”
“Cool.”
“Now get out of my house.”
“Sorry?” Genuine surprise takes over his features; eyebrows furrowed to the maximum, eyes wide.
“You’re not staying the night.” You pat his thigh as you get up and start picking up the takeout boxes lying scattered on your coffee table.
“Why not?” He sounds almost offended. You laugh quietly as you walk into the kitchen.
“You’re just not.” He hasn’t moved from his spot on the sofa when you look back at him.
“I won’t try anything.”
Your pointed look forces the corners of his mouth to curl into a mischievous smile. “I’ll just cuddle you.”
“Next joke.”
“You really think I’m not capable of keeping it in my pants?” You don’t even bother responding to his silly question.
When you approach him again, you stand in front of him and with the way he looks up at you, it takes a lot to not just get on your knees for him.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” You admit, hinting at something he catches on quickly, his pleased smile difficult to miss.
He moves closer, warm hands engulfing the backs of your knees, his hood dropping as he cranes his neck to gaze up at you with pretty eyes. He looks almost innocent like this. So handsome. “At least give me a kiss.”
Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, looking for support as he pulls you closer, between his spread legs. This screams anything but innocent, and the way he nuzzles his face against your tummy has your breath hitching. You bury a hand in his hair, nails lightly scratching as he breathes you in.
“Just one, yeah?” Your quiet offer makes him look up again, eyes finding yours in an instant, chin resting on your lower abdomen. Who knew Lee Jeno could look so submissive and sexy at the same time.
“Just one. And I’ll fuck off before you know it.” You should tease him. Make him beg. But he looks too good for that. Too insatiable. And you can always make him beg another day.
You do exactly what you said you wouldn’t do. You get on your knees, between his spread ones, and now it’s you that has to look up at him. Your hands find his strong thighs and the thought that enters your mind isn’t a pleasant one. Envy flickers for a moment, remembering the girl from two nights ago, standing between his legs in a very similar position. But then you see how he looks at you and envy becomes want. He didn’t look at her like that, nowhere near.
His hands fall on top of yours before trailing up your arms and you drag your knees across the carpet to get closer. Your noses touch when his palms engulf each side of your neck, thumbs tracing your jawline, fingers reaching your nape, his touch making your knees feel weak as your heart beats faster, and you’re worried he can feel it through your pulse points.
“You know,” His top lip grazes your bottom one lightly and you can’t help but bite onto the spot he touched. “You’re doing a bit too much for just one kiss.”
“You either want it, or you don’t.” You match his low tone; afraid you’ll break the trance you both seem to be in, your fingers lightly squeezing his thigh muscles in encouragement.
You see his smirk and then you don’t. Your eyes drop shut the second his mouth is on yours, claiming. His palms feel warm on your cheeks, his lips soft on yours but demanding, thighs tensing under your wandering hands, and you feel dizzy as you let him tilt your head as he pleases, let his tongue in your mouth, let him taste you. It’s wet and it’s loud and it’s hot, the neurons in your brain already useless.
You really should pull away, not give in to him so easily, but one hand is in your hair now, tugging, the other around your throat, gentle but assertive, and the whimper you let out is embarrassing. Your hands clench around the fabric of his joggers; your pussy around nothing, and that’s when you abruptly push him away, hands on his firm chest. You think your ears deceive you, but you swear Lee Jeno just whined. A needy, pathetic whine. So beautiful. It makes something coil in your chest, a pulse of heat you didn’t expect, a reminder of just how much power he has over you in a single sound.
His back is against the sofa cushions now, and he looks defeated, chest visibly moving. “You’re a fucking menace.”
You laugh a little too loudly at how out of breath he sounds, as though he didn’t just have full control of that kiss. His lips are shiny, a darker shade of their usual pink, and you lick at yours, realizing they must be just as wet. You can still taste him, and your walls flutter around emptiness again. You’re tempted to look down and check whether he’s also affected, but you withhold. That would make things so much worse.
“I promised one kiss. I gave it to you.” You pat his thighs gently, and his hands catch yours again, fingers interlocking this time. It’s your heart that flutters this time.
“Alright, Dua Lipa.”
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Jeno has always known you’re trouble. He’s always pitied the guy you’ll end up with—or anyone who falls for you. Not because you’re not a catch, but because he views you as someone hard to say no to. And now… he’s exactly the kind of guy he pities. He’s never thought of himself as a weak man. But here he is, walking you home after your regular Tuesday session, pretending he’s listening to your rant about some professor who hates you and struggling not to make his fascination obvious. Because he really is fascinated—by the way you move your hands, the way you furrow your eyebrows in frustration, the way you swear a little too much when you’re stressed, and the way you say “what the fuck,” because what the fuck is wrong with him?
He can’t stop thinking about how adorable you looked earlier when you drew a Venn diagram correctly, how your eyes lit up when you got his validation, how you gasped when the only thing he said was “good job.” Not because he has some weird claim on you, but because he likes how determined you are to do well. And he likes that he’s helping you. But most of all, he likes that you’re succeeding. Jeno is positive you don’t even need his help to pass the module anymore, but he can’t bring himself to tell you that just yet—simply because he likes that you want his help.
It’s been two days since that obliterating kiss, and Jeno keeps pondering. You. How you got on your knees. How you touched him. How you sounded. How easily you ruined him with just one kiss. He knows he’s already slept with you, but for some reason, that kiss beats any other moment he’s had with you. It was too good. Too much. And oh, what he would give to experience that again.
“You free this Friday?” The question slips mid-thought, and the silence that follows makes him turn his head to look at you. He struggles not to laugh at your dumbfounded expression, pursing his lips to control the smile that threatens to take over his face.
“You weren’t listening just now, were you?” You scold, though the tone of amusement is still evident.
“Nah. Not really.” He blatantly admits, getting a kick out of annoying you.
“Dickhead.” You huff in the cutest way possible.
“Friday.” He repeats stubbornly as you’re nearing your building. “Free or not?”
“What exactly am I walking into here?” You ask carefully, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“An orgy.”
“Yeah, alright, get me involved.” Your bored tone shouldn’t make him smile.
He sighs in annoyance, because there’s no way you don’t know what he’s hinting at. “I wanna take you out, you pleb.”
“Pleb?”
He groans dramatically. “Oh my god—”
“I’m actually not.”
“What?”
“I’m not free on Friday. I promised Gigi I’d do movie night.” No way. Fuck that. There’s no way he’s asking you out and you’re rejecting him.
“You serious? You’re blowing me off for some movie night?” He knows he should tone it down. He’s sounding hurt, and it’s not that deep. It shouldn’t be.
“I’m not blowing you off—”
“You so are. Royally.” He can’t help but feel a little defeated. He’s never winning with you.
“I can do Saturday.” You say with a hopeful tone, and Jeno feels some relief at the fact that you’re not entirely rejecting him.
“I said I’d go to this stupid party on Saturday.” He grumbles. He doesn’t even want to go, but you’re not willing to cancel your plans for him. So why should he?
“Right, well… we’ll have to do next week then.” The disappointment in your voice makes his heart jump and his stomach clench. Why do you keep doing that? Until now, it was his head. Now, you’re messing with his heart and stomach too? It’s unfair.
“Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, hoping it doesn’t make him seem weak. Although he knows that’s exactly what he is—a weak, needy, pathetic man. For you.
“To your stupid party?” You almost sound offended, and now he regrets even asking.
“Yeah.” He sighs as you both come to a halt outside your building. It’s dark already, and the streetlights reflect prettily on your face, accentuating your features. Your nose is a little red from the cold, and you’re in thought, teeth catching your bottom lip as you consider his invitation.
“That’s not really taking me out though, is it?” You try shyly. You never tiptoe around things. And Jeno hates that he loves that.
“I just want to spend time with you, Y/N.” He attempts to lower his guard a little but realizes how awfully intimate his words sound. Oh well. “We can show face for a bit, and then we can just fuck off if it’s boring, go somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Disneyland.” He deadpans again, trying to put on the fakest smile he can, but unintentionally, it transforms into a genuine one. He blames the cute way you roll your eyes at him. So unamused.
“Wow, you’re on a roll today. How will I ever recover from this laughter?” You sound bored, but he sees how hard you’re trying to hold back your smile.
“God, you’re annoying.” And he’s not lying. You are so fucking annoying. And so fucking pretty. He blames the streetlights. And his stupid heart.
You outright laugh at his exasperation, and Jeno finds himself in a predicament. He could ignore you, move on with the conversation, or he could shut you up. It’s an easy decision.
The cute sound of surprise you let out when his lips crash onto yours is imprinted on his brain, and so is your soft touch on his chest, and so is the way you kiss him back, matching his eagerness, and so is your taste, and so is the way your body molds into his. It all just fits perfectly. You fit perfectly.
Your nose feels cold against his cheek, but the back of your neck feels hot against his frosty fingers, and he wonders when it became such a normal thing for him to notice details like that. A kiss is a kiss. There shouldn’t be any science behind it. That’s what he always thought. Until that night you sat with him on the carpet at the foot of his bed.
A wet smooching sound echoes in the cold of the evening when he pulls away, and he can’t fight his smile seeing how you lean closer, chasing after his lips.
“Come.” He whispers, both your breaths visible.
“Huh?” You sound lost, blinking quickly as though adjusting back to reality. Did he just kiss you, stupid?
“On Saturday. Come with me.” He sounds like he’s begging now, and he hates it. That’s what it’s come to.
He trails his hands down your arms, over your thick jacket, and the bashful expression on your face makes his pulse fasten as he threads his fingers through yours.
“Okay. I’ll come.” Success.
“Good.” He leans down, leaving another chaste kiss on your lips before he can chicken out, and then, as you’re about to speak, he’s walking away.
“Dude, what th—”
“You better have that mock test ready for Thursday!” He shouts over his shoulder, and he wishes his resolve was stronger, but he can’t fight the need to look back. And the confusion on your cute face is so worth it.
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Jeno doesn’t know what to do with himself.
There you are. A few feet away from him, in this crowded space, conversing with some girls he’s never met before. So confident, carrying yourself so gracefully, your laugh audible and sweet. So sweet, so intoxicating, so heart-wrenching.
He brought you here. And for some reason, he expected you to not leave his side; to crowd him, to be needy and demand his attention. As always, he was mistaken. He should know by now, you’re not like most girls he’s associated himself with. But he’s a fool. A fool who keeps misjudging you and putting you in the same basket as everyone else.
And there you always are. Proving him wrong every single time.
“What’s with the long face?” Haechan’s voice cuts through Jeno’s trail of thought.
“No long face.” Jeno quickly dismisses the accusation. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking at a party? You must be in serious trouble.” As much of a smart-ass as his friend can be, he’s got the tendency of being right most of the time. And just like now, he’s always smug about it, the irritating smirk on his face proof.
“Fuck off.” Jeno mutters, always harmless. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to bless with your annoying-ass face?”
“And bless her I shall.” Haechan sings, making Jeno snort at his silliness. “Quit yearning and just go talk to her, you dumb-ass bitch. You look like you’ve seen a litter of dead puppies.” Haechan whispers aggressively as he walks away swiftly, before Jeno can have the pleasure of shoving him.
“Wet wipe.” Jeno curses under his breath as he watches his friend lovingly wrap his arms around his girlfriend, his face nuzzling into her neck as she smiles bright. It’s sweet and it’s disgusting, and the undeniable feeling of envy fills Jeno. He’s envious of them both. Because as disgusting as they can be, they’re happy. And they don’t fail to remind him every fucking second.
When Jeno redirects his vision to you, he’s met with your eyes, and you shatter him with the sweetest smile you’ve ever given him. And there goes his poor heart again. His lips move on their own, returning the gesture without permission, and when you extend your hand in his direction, wordlessly asking him to join you, there goes his stomach. His legs seem to work on their own, because in a few seconds, he’s pushing himself off the wall, crossing the room, and in a few more, Jeno’s got your hand in his.
“Hey.” You greet quietly, with a small squeeze around his fingers.
“Hey, yourself.” He instinctively pulls you closer into his side and you smile wider, looking down bashfully, the group you were chatting with long forgotten behind you.
“Having fun?” You seem genuinely interested, and for some reason, Jeno feels weak. Words don’t come easily in that moment, so he just shrugs, nose scrunching a little.
“You?”
“Eh, I’m too sober.” The way you wrap both arms around his has him in a chokehold, and Jeno looks around at the chaos of the party, then back down at you.
“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, relieved that your eyes light up with hope.
“Disneyland?” You tease, a tiny smirk adorning your face. Jeno chews on his bottom lip to prevent his own smile.
“Disneyland.”
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Jeno’s place is relatively tidy compared to last time you were there. Some books are scattered here and there, a plant struggling to stay alive in the corner, a used-up mug on the coffee table. Though very evident that it’s a boys’ house, you can smell the laundry detergent. It’s messy but clean, and for some reason, that makes you feel a sense of warmth.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You twirl your finger in the air, gesturing at the space as you walk further inside the living room.
He snorts as he takes off his shoes, placing them next to yours. “Did you expect a crack den?”
“Sure looked like one last time.” You stand in front of the bookshelves, scanning all the titles they’ve collected. “I’m assuming these aren’t all yours.”
“And why would you assume that?” He’s standing a lot closer than you thought; you can almost feel his body heat seeping through your thick jumper.
“Dunno.” You stay put, refusing to turn around and look at him. “You don’t strike me as much of a reader.”
He lets out a short laugh, his breath hitting the back of your neck. Oh, he’s close—close.
“And what do I strike you as?” His fingers make contact with the back of your hand, lightly tracing until his index hooks around your pinky. The gesture feels a lot more intimate than it should, and even though it’s the least sexual thing anyone could do, you feel yourself getting hot.
“As someone who reads because they should, not because they want to.”
“Wow.” His whisper hits your ear as his thumb fumbles gently with the ring you’ve got on your pinky. “You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Not really, no.” Your breath hitches slightly as he wraps his other arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him. His chest feels hard against your back, and his breathing is definitely a lot more stable than yours, but his heartbeat doesn’t match his calmness. It’s oddly comforting.
He doesn’t stall when you turn around. His lips instantly find yours. No teasing, no hesitation.
He’s everywhere.
You feel him everywhere, and your heart hurts from the intensity. From how gentle he is. From how slow he kisses you compared to all the other times.
You’re worried he can feel the heat radiating off your skin when his hand cradles your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone so delicately you feel hysterical. The whimper you let out seems to encourage him as he tilts his head a little, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help but part your lips more, desperate to taste him.
Your hands slither up to his hair, threading through the short strands, and a moan escapes from your throat when he pushes you into the bookshelf, his tongue obscenely licking into your mouth, tangling with yours in a wet mess.
“You hungry?” He mutters into the kiss, clearly with no intention of pulling away, but your arms circle his neck, holding him closer—just in case he made the unacceptable choice of stopping.
“Mm-mm.” Your refusal vibrates between your mouths as you kiss him harder, his uncoordinated breathing egging you on as you walk him backward, blindly leading your tangled bodies to the sofa.
“Thirsty?” He’s smiling as he lets you guide him, his hands grabbing onto your hips, refusing to put space between your bodies.
“No.” You clumsily stumble over your feet, and his arms around you help you regain your balance, his light chuckle hitting you on the lips, breath hot against you, as he harshly lands on the sofa cushions, eagerly helping you straddle him as though being apart from you is unfathomable.
“Guessing you’re not tired either.” He barely gets to finish the sentence before a grunt leaves him; your fingers pulling harshly at his hair as you shamelessly shove your tongue in his mouth, easily shutting him up. He slumps against the sofa with a sigh against your lips, hands limply resting on your ass as he lets you take control.
“What about you? You tired?” You break the kiss with a loud, wet smack, your hand around his neck preventing him from trailing after you. You tighten your hold when he attempts to move again, and you revel in the sight of his confused expression. It's almost like a newfound pleasure, like it’s something he didn’t know he wanted until now. You can tell by the tensing of his eyebrows, the quick blinking of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the clawing at your ass cheeks.
He’s never been put in his place before, and it shows.
“Answer me.” You instruct seductively, lips brushing his as you grind down on the very evident erection suffocating in his jeans.
“Fuck—no. I’m not fucking tired.” He grits, nostrils flaring in annoyance, and his harsh expression earns a smirk from you as you make sure to press harder on the sides of his neck. A mean laugh tumbles out of you as his resolve breaks, eyes rolling back the second you grind down again, the fabric of your jeans rubbing against your throbbing clit deliciously, but you ignore the pleasure, focusing on how responsive Jeno’s body has suddenly become.
He could easily overpower you, take matters into his own hands, ruin you if he wanted to, and that knowledge turns you on a lot more than it should. Because he’s actively choosing to be submissive. He’s silently asking to be choked, succumbing to the power you didn’t know you held over him. Until now.
“You’re kinda pathetic, Jen.” You whisper in his ear, his moan vibrating between your chests as you leave a little kiss on his cheek. “It’s cute.”
“Fuck off.”
You’re not sure if it was meant to come out harsh, but it’s far from it. It’s whiny and breathless.
“That’s mean.” You coo at him, another soft kiss left on his cheek before a theatrical pout takes place on your lips. “You promised you’d be good to me.”
“You’re the one who’s being mean.” His head turns so he can look at you, arms wrapping tightly around you, and you can’t help but loosen your hold around his throat.
He’s blinking slowly, breathing shallowly, and you swear his hazy eyes are going to be the death of you. He looks weak and sweet and so fucked out, and if it weren’t for the next words that leave his mouth, you would have held your ground.
“I like you.” He whispers. So casual but so lethal at the same time. “A lot.”
You sit up a little, and he follows after you, arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your chest, sighing heavily, making your heart go crazy. He can definitely feel it.
“Say something.” His words are muffled against the fabric of your jumper, and you can’t tell when exactly you started stroking his hair, both hands softly threading.
“I like you too.” You murmur in his hair, inhaling the boyish but sweet smell of his shampoo, and you smile when his shoulders visibly relax.
“Stay tonight.”
You know what he’s asking, and when he looks up at you, you also know it’s game over.
You give him a little nod before leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, his surprised expression making you feel giddy. “I’ll stay.”
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Lee Jeno is a lot of things.
He’s stubborn and annoying and cocky at times and he’s annoyingly smart and good with numbers which makes him a good tutor. He’s nice at times too, and funny and oddly endearing. He’s also incredibly hot, and cute, even though he hates being called that.
But you’ve always known those things.
What you didn’t know is how incredibly and unfairly good he is at giving head. Out of this world good. And as much as you hate it you also can’t help but love it. What you love the most, however, is how much he seems to love it.
“Holy shit, Jen, slow down.” You pant, thighs shaking in overstimulation, your body trying to comprehend the intense orgasm it just went through, but Jeno doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck.
“Shut up and keep your legs open.” He mutters into your drenched pussy, arousal and spit coating the lower half of his face, the scene before you incriminating as you struggle to do as he says with a pathetic whine.
“I’m too sensitive, you psycho.” Your futile attempt to harshly pull at his hair, backfires as he shoves two fingers in your dripping hole, a string of spit landing on your clit, thumb replacing his tongue in harsh circles. His fingers reach deeper than yours ever have, stimulating the sensitive spot inside your walls with ease.
“Don’t want my tongue? Fine. You’re taking my fingers.” His hand is thrusting roughly, digits barely pulling out as he creates a vibration-like motion, abusing your g-spot like nobody’s business.
“Oh my god!” Your screech is embarrassing, and so is the way your trembling fingers grip his bedsheets. What really is mortifying, though, is how loud your cunt is. The lewd sounds are almost offensive to your dignity, which seems to be out the window by now. You feel too hot, sweat dripping down your temples and you wish you had the energy to take off your top, the intense pleasure clouding all your senses.
“Just accept that you’re gonna cum again.” The sweet kiss he leaves on your inner thigh highly contrasts the way he’s violently fucking into your sopping cunt and you can’t help but give into it. Because he’s right. You’re going to cum again. “There we go, baby, just take it.”
“Fuck, it’s too much, y-you're too deep.” You cry, asking for a little bit of mercy that doesn’t seem likely to come your way.
“You’re dripping though.” His hot breath fans on your centre, free hand pressing into your belly, holding you hostage. “Literally ruining my sheets.”
His humiliating words do something to you, and unfortunately, he seems to notice the way you clench around his fingers, the way your back arches a little more. “Thought you didn’t like me being mean, baby.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Your voice comes out whiny, no threat laced in it whatsoever, and his laugh is sinister, openly mocking your desperate state, pushing you over the edge unexpectedly. “Fuck, I’m cumming.”
Your body tenses, chest heaving, walls clamping down on his fingers, forbidding any further movement, but his thumb is relentless, rubbing your poor clit through your high.
“Shit, baby.” He whispers, the sound barely reaching your buzzing ears. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you reach for anything that can pull back to the surface. Your nails dig into his arm, the one draped over your stomach and he quickly laces his fingers with yours, understanding what you need. “You’re good. I’ve got you.” He trails gentle kisses up and down your thigh, the action soothing, helping you back to a more coherent state.
“I fucking hate you.” You pant. No irritation in your tone, just defeat and deliriousness.
He chuckles against your skin, fingers slowly pulling out of your heat. “No, you don’t.”
Your hands instinctively caress his hair as he starts dragging your top up your torso, a kiss left on every newly uncovered inch of skin. You help him by sitting up a little, arms raising and then hands finding his face as soon as the garment is off, pulling him in for a slow kiss he so easily gives into. You can feel his grin, and it makes you chuckle softly against his lips but neither of you pulls away.
Within seconds, your back arches, making room for his hands as they unclasp your bra and once it’s gone, you eagerly wrap your arms around his neck, craving to feel his skin on yours, sighing at the way your sensitive nipples drag against his warm chest.
It’s quiet and loud at the same time. No words are exchanged as you intimately make out with him. It’s all heavy breathing, a whimper here and there, the rustling of his sheets, the wet sound of kissing, one of your phones’ buzzing as neither of you seems to care. It’s a soft moan of yours that breaks the silence, and then one of his as he slowly grinds his jean-clad cock into your tingling pussy, the material harsh on your hypersensitive clit.
His arms cage your head, supporting his weight as he makes room between your bodies for your hands, trembling fingers clumsily unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, your hands blindly shoving the material down, both of you to stubborn to pull away from the sloppy kiss you’ve trapped yourselves in.
“Mmh- just- fuck sake.” You mumble in his mouth and he lets out a small laugh as he reluctantly pushes off you to remove the rest of his clothes hastily. You smile at his erratic movements, relishing in the fact that he’s as needy as you are.
His mouth is back on yours within seconds, body finding home between your parted legs, fitting just perfectly and you breathe harshly when his cock prods at your entrance.
“Do we need a condom?” He murmurs breathlessly, eyes meeting as his face hovers just inches above yours. You find it cute how he remembers about protection now, when he’s already finished inside you before.
“You’re clean?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.”
He nods with a shaky exhale, and you pull his face closer, not being able to stand any space between you. One arm sneaks around his neck, the other circles his shoulder blade, holding onto him as you prepare for the intrusion, craving the stinging sensation you felt last time he entered you.
His tip bumps your clit a few times as he rubs the length of his cock between your folds, coating himself in your arousal.
“So wet, baby.” It sounds pained and you’re slowly starting to lose any restraint that’s left in you.
“Please, fuck me.” You whine into the dip of his shoulder, hips twitching, raising to find friction.
The head of his cock kisses your entrance, and the second you start to feel the delicious pressure, he slips, finding your clit once again, making you inhale sharply. You’re so wet, it’s embarrassing.
“Shit, sorry.” He utters the rushed words as he looks down, between your bodies, one arm propping him above you.
“It’s okay, just try again.” You caress the back of his neck softly as you patiently wait for a stretch that doesn’t come. He’s still, breathing heavily as he looks down, forehead dropping to your shoulder and now you’re starting to get concerned.
“You okay?” You ask in confusion, as your hands reach for his face, but he hides in your neck.
“I’m- this is fucking embarrassing.” His body is trembling and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around him, still not understanding what he’s going on about.
“Jen, what’s wrong?”
Did he change his mind or something? Did he just realise he’s not that into you? Or did he just remember he’s got chlamydia?
“I’m actually freaking out. What is hap-
“I’ve gone soft.”
Oh.
“My dick is soft.” He rephrases, voice muffled in your neck and you try your best not to laugh at his pained tone, by hiding your face in his shoulder. Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.
It's pointless. Inevitable. A snort escapes. He tenses.
“Are you fucking laughing?”
“No.” Your arms tighten around his shoulders, trapping him, or preventing him from seeing your pursed lips.
“I actually fucking hate you.” He exasperates, lips grazing your skin, but he lets his weight slump on you regardless. And you feel it. He really is soft.
“Are you nervous?” You’re not mocking, just asking genuinely as your thumb strokes his temple, nails gently scratching his scalp, trying to offer some comfort through his embarrassment.
“Why would I be nervous?” He defends quickly, stubbornness coating his voice.
“Chill. It’s just a question.”
“I’m not nervous.” He persists. He really is incapable of lying.
“You’re overthinking then.” You start tracing patterns on his shoulder with your free hand as his breathing becomes more stable.
“What’s there to overthink? It's sex.” He sighs as your toes tickle the back of his knee, foot slowly caressing his leg.
“Erectile dysfunction?” You joke and he huffs out a breath in annoyance, tickling your neck, goosebumps raising. You hum in thought, pretending to be in search of other reasons for his little mishap. He shivers as you lazily start scratching up and down his back, your other hand still in his hair, slightly tugging.
“Maybe you’re just not that into me then.” A smirk tugs on your lips as he playfully bites down on your shoulder.
“Yeah.” He nuzzles your jaw. “That must be it.” He starts kissing along the bone, his hand cradling the other side of your face, urging you to face him and he’s miserably failing to hold his smile back, just like you are. He cutely brushes his nose against yours and your brain malfunctions for a second. Never did you think Lee Jeno would be eskimo kissing you in bed right after he got a limp dick because he got too nervous.
But here you are.
“You know,” Your hand caresses his wrist as his hand buries in your hair. “You can be really cute sometimes.” Your lips find the tip of his nose, and he slightly flinches as the tender gesture, coaxing a giggle out of you that gets interrupted by his hand roughly pulling at your hair and you know your tactic to get him riled up is working.
Your whine is muffled by his lips, tongue forcing its way into your mouth like it’s his mission to shut you up and you revel in the dominance he asserts. A big hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing a little tighter than you expect, making you feel dizzy as his tongue claims your mouth in the filthiest way possible. Drool smears on your chin and the little twitch you feel on your belly forces a satisfied moan out of you.
“This cute enough for you?” He breathes into your mouth, his hips grinding with force, hardening cock sliding between your wet folds, cunt throbbing with need.
“Whatever cutie, just try not to go soft on me again.”
A sarcastic laugh tumbles out of him. “You trying to piss me off?”
“Yes.”
“I will literally fuck you into oblivion.” He mumbles in your ear, his teeth trapping the lobe between them before he starts trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck, hand moving to fondle one of your breasts, fingers harshly squeezing, claiming, making you mewl.
“Please, do.” You beg cutely, legs wrapping around his waist, heels pushing him into you more as your hips lift momentarily as you feel a new gush of arousal dripping out of you, smearing between your bodies. You just know it’s a mess down there.
Two of his fingers find your entrance, swirling through the wetness before he abruptly shoves them in to stretch you out again and before you have time to adjust, two become three, stretching your tight hole to the max. Your moans are unrecognisable, downright pornographic and you can’t imagine how good his cock is going to feel. You’re so horny, you feel like you’re going to pass out.
“Jen- oh fuck- please just put it in.” Your hands grab his face, forcing his eyes onto yours, showing him how blinded with desperation you are. You really want him. And he seems to share the same sentiment. His dilated pupils show you that much.
He kisses you stupid again, tongue tasting you hungrily as he fucks his fingers into you deep and slow a few more times and then emptiness. He kisses you harder when you whine in protest, but it’s the fat head of his cock prodding at your hole that really shuts you up and this time he doesn’t slip out. This time you feel the sting you so impatiently were craving.
Your walls flutter around him, but they welcome his thick length greedily, sucking him as he sinks in slowly.
“Oh my god.” He utters breathlessly as his pubic bone finds yours, hips grinding to help you both get used to the stimulation, mouth dropping open against yours as you bite down on his lip, not caring if your draw blood because it all just feels divine.
“Move.” You plead, letting your legs spread wide for him, your hands burying in his hair as you bring his lips to your again, needing him closer.
“Stop clenching so hard. Feels like you’re pushing me out.” He whispers softly, following up with a slow kiss, his hand caressing your thigh as he holds himself up on one forearm by your head, thumb stroking your temple gingerly and you instantly feel yourself relax a little.
“Sorry.” You murmur into the kiss, feeling him smile against you, your stomach doing that thing it always does when he does the most insignificant things.
He finally starts moving, slow and deep, cock stimulating every nerve ending in your walls and you’re so sensitive you feel every ridge, every vein, the slight curve of his length and the way he thrusts a little upwards doing wonders to that sweet spot deep inside you.
He leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek before letting his head drop, face burying in your neck, hot breaths hitting your skin deliciously as you both lose yourselves to the consuming pleasure. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, quiet moans filling the space of his room as his pace quickens slightly, the hand on your thigh slipping between you and the mattress, softly squeezing your ass cheek, keeping you in place, grounding you like you need him to.
“Fuck, baby.” The sweet petname, whispered in your ear, makes your pussy clench around him and he lets out a muffled grunt. His fingers squeeze the flesh of your ass a little harder and his hips start snapping against yours, wet slaps echoing as he fucks you with short and hard thrusts. “You like that?”
“Yes.” You sigh into his neck, nails clawing at his shoulder blades as you take what he’s giving you, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock starts abusing your g-spot, barely pulling out before fucking back into your needy cunt. You feel incredibly close and you’re almost shocked he’s managed to bring you this close to an orgasm so quickly, just with his cock. “Fuck- I’m s-sorry- I think I’m gonna cum.”
“I can feel you.” He moans and raises his head to look at you. “It’s okay, don’t say sorry. I want you to.” His hips maintain their perfect rhythm, stimulating the gummy spot inside you as well as your swollen clit. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, not being able to handle his intense stare and another moan from him is what send you over the edge. It’s intense, mind-consuming, your legs shake as he fucks you through it like he’s made for it, messily kissing you, groaning into your mouth as you violently squeeze his cock, walls almost pushing him out, but his thrusts unfaltering.
“Jesus.” He pants as you cry out, the pleasure now bordering overstimulation, but he doesn’t slow down. His back is drenched in sweat, your fingers slipping as they try to hold onto something and he immediately pins your hands above your head as he starts fucking you harder; bruising, animalistic thrusts melting your brain into mush.
“J-Jen, I’m- oh f- I can’t-
“Shhh. You can. It’ll feel good again.” His tongue finds yours in a kiss full of teeth and spit and you can barely focus on anything, too fucked out to function properly. You’re thankful you’re at least breathing. “You’re mine. Right, baby?”
Holy fuck. What is happening?
“I am?” You mumble against his lips, your heart going ballistic.
“You’re my girl, no?” He holds your arms pinned with one hand as the other cradles your jaw, eyes finding yours.
“Yes.” You breathe out pathetically.
“Say it.” He demands with a sharp thrust, balls slapping against your ass, your arousal coating your inner thighs as he grinds into you.
“I’m your girl.” The tip of his cock brushes your abused spot again, mind-numbing pleasure building again, like it never went away.
“Fuck yeah, you are.” He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking before releasing. “Mine.”
Your breathing is laboured as his hips resume their ministrations. Fucking you hard and fast towards another high that seems to come even quicker than the previous one. It’s like he’s forcing them out of you. And you know you’re going to be ruined for any other man after this. You really are his. He owns you. But you can’t say that. You refuse to admit it. Even as he’s balls deep in you, fucking you into oblivion, exactly like he promised.
“Are you mine?” It slips out before you can register the thought. You blame his dick.
He moans. It’s strangled and deep, his eyebrows tensing as he blinks quickly, as though trying to comprehend your words. It’s cute and hot at the same time. “Fuck- you know I am.”
“Tell me.” You whisper, short-breathed, nuzzling your nose with his, your foreheads almost touching and his eyes roll back when your walls flutter around him again. What a sight.
“I’m yours, baby.” He grunts as you purposely tighten around him and you didn’t think it was possible, but he fucks you harder, the sounds obscene, your back arching as he sits up, kneeling between you spread legs, pushing them up to your chest, fucking you so deep you have to brace your hands against the headboard, a loud cry leaving your throat. “All yours. All for my girl.”
“Oh my god.” You exhale harshly, nails digging into wood as his words send you into a frenzy. “Fuuuuck I’m gonna cum.” Your tone pleading and he can’t do anything other than oblige.
“Uh-huh, cum for me, baby.” He whispers, head hanging low as he lets a good amount of saliva dribble from his mouth onto where you’re both connected, and your broken moan echoes around the walls of his room when the digit quickly finds your swollen clit, all wet and slippery from arousal and spit. He flicks the nub in quick up and down motions as he tries to keep the same angle of his hips.
A particularly soft flick of his thumb is what makes your body seize, drowning you in obliterating pleasure as your pussy squeezes tight around him again, this orgasm even more intense than the previous one, if not the most intense one you’re ever had in your whole existence.
He pulls out with a grunt, hovering over you again, a deep kiss left on your lips before he continues down to your neck, sucking and licking, marking your sweaty skin, and you whimper weakly when his tongue finds a nipple, his big hands squishing your sensitive tits and you don’t have it in you anymore to deny him anything. He can do as he pleases.
“So pretty.” He mumbles, completely lost in his own little world that seems to be occupied only by your nipples and tits as he lathers them in his spit, licking and sucking like man starved.
Before you have time to regain your breathing, you’re on your front, face buried in his pillows as his hands grab onto your hips.
“Ass up for me, baby.” He helps you get on your knees, back arched, tits squished against his mattress. “Spread your legs.” He gently taps your outer thigh and you oblige with a whimper as he starts leaving wet kisses on one of your ass cheeks, hands kneading the flesh.
“What are you doing?” You mumble, slightly panicked as he gets closer and closer to your asshole.
You attempt to look back when no answer comes, but your head drops back down in defeat as his tongue licks a fat stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. The moan that erupts from your throat is broken, surprise evident as you tangle your fingers in his sheets.
“What the fuck.” You whisper, rushed words muffled by Jeno’s pillows. Your jaw slackens as his tongue languidly circles your sopping hole, dipping lightly, tasting you shamelessly and within seconds it travels back down to your clit, flicking it from side to side with the tip of his tongue, making your legs tremble, struggling to hold you up.
You’re a mess down there, you know it. The filthy sounds filling the room, prove that much. He’s sloppy with it; making out with your pussy like he’s thirsty, tongue everywhere, even slipping up to your other tight hole a few times, coating you in his spit wherever he can reach.
“Shit.” He rasps. “I could eat this pussy for days, baby.”
“Jen-”
“So perfect.” He mumbles in awe, his lips brushing your sensitive clit before wrapping around it, sucking harshly, tongue flicking in quick motions, driving you crazy, turning you into a blabbering mess, a hand reaching behind you to tangle in his hair, pulling desperately.
“Please fuck me. Want your cum in me.” You don’t even know where that filth came from, but you can’t bring yourself to care in the slightest. You think you might lose the plot if he doesn’t stick his cock in your aching pussy right this second.
Thankfully, your begging deems rewarding. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions and the sound you make when he stuffs you to the brim in one motion, resembles a scream.
“Yeah? My girl wants my cum?” His voice barely reaches your ears over your loud moans as he starts thrusting into you in no time. Hard and fast. And you feel him in your fucking throat; the position allowing him to go deeper than anyone has before. His hands grab onto your waist, fucking you silly onto his cock, his balls slapping your poor clit deliciously and you’re positive you’re drooling onto his pillow.
“Oh, my fucking god. Right there.” You plead urgently as his tip nudges your g-spot for the umpteenth time tonight, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull, arms crossing over the small of your back, silently asking him to take complete control over your spent body.
“Shit, Y/N.” He pants, one hand taking hold of your wrists, the other grabs onto your shoulder, forcing you onto his cock, the wet slaps of his hips onto your ass turning you on beyond belief. You arch your back more, craving to feel him as deep as possible and his moan tells you he’s equally as affected. “You look so good like this.”
You twist your neck, looking over your shoulder, desperately searching for his eyes. You know you look destroyed, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you want him to see, want him to know what he’s done to you, that it’s all him.
The second his gaze meets yours, you know it’s game over for both of you. He looks unreal, sweat dripping from his temples down to his neck, chest glistening and heaving, abs flexing beautifully each time he thrusts forward. You know he can feel your walls tightening. His eyes closing momentarily, jaw clenching, his hold around your wrists becoming so deliciously painful, you hope it leaves a mark.
The hand on your shoulder slips in your hair, pulling, forcing you off the mattress as he leans forward, slotting your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. It’s full of tongue, saliva and need. You love it. You love everything he’s doing to you.
“You gonna cum one more time for me, yeah?” He whispers wetly against your lips, spit smearing on both your chins and you can’t help but nod dumbly. “Good girl.”
Your face is shoved in his pillow again and next thing you know, he’s fucking the living shit out of you, hand now at the base of your nape as his hold around your wrists doesn’t loosen.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me.”
It’s the primal, raw need in his voice along with the brush against your sweet spot that has you teetering over the edge again. It’s overwhelming. Your fists clench at the small of your back, legs shaking and weren't he holding you in place, you would have collapsed on the mattress limbless.
A tear escapes from the corner of your eye from the intensity, trickling down to the pillowcase and you thank the universe when you hear a deep grunt leaving his throat, signalling the beginning of his own orgasm.
“Shit, baby, I’m cumming.” His voice trembles and his hips stutter, sloppily thrusting until your feel warmth spreading inside your throbbing cunt, his hot release painting your walls white. He grinds into your ass, dragging both your highs until he lets out a whimper of overstimulation and you intentionally clench a couple of times, wanting to torture him for a little longer considering what he put your body through tonight. Not that you’re complaining, but the pathetic whine that escapes his throat, along with his hands grabbing your hips in urgency, is the best reward you could ask for now.
You accidentally let out a breathy chuckle that becomes louder when he lightly slaps your ass in warning. “Don’t be a brat.”
You mewl when he slowly pulls out and manhandles you onto your back. He leans down, seeking for your lips and he sighs when you meet him halfway, slotting your mouth with his on instinct as his body moulds with yours, his hand slipping his softening length back into your dripping hole with no warning, earning a yelp from you.
“Mmh, Jen-”
“Relax.” He mumbles into the kiss. “Just feels warm.” He whispers, and you can detect a tone of shyness. You can’t help but smile fondly at the side of him you’ve rarely seen.
“You’re weird.” You tease, still kissing him slowly.
“You’re annoying.” He retorts, leaving quick little kisses on your lips, moving onto your cheeks, then your nose, then returning to your lips with a chaste smooch that deems you helpless. Giggles and butterflies erupting.
“But you like me.” You sing playfully, dragging the sentence, hands squishing his cheeks to annoy him even more. He stares down at you for a moment, biting his bottom lip to contain a smile you can see anyway.
“But I like you.” He admits, blinking slowly and you can’t help but return the smile before leaning up to give him another sweet kiss.
Lee Jeno likes you and you like him too.
Who would have thought? Definitely not you.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
When you return from the bathroom, covered in the t-shirt he had on earlier, he is already under the covers, lying on his front. You’d be surprised if he wasn’t exhausted after all that. His bare back looks kissable and the back of his hair a mess and you can’t stop smiling giddily.
A ding averts your attention. It’s your phone, coming from your jeans lying on the floor messily. You pick up the piece of clothing as well as the rest of your scattered clothes, placing them somewhat neatly on his desk chair before retreating your phone from your back pocket and setting it on silent mode.
“Could you get mine too?” His groggy voice breaks through the silence as you scroll through any missed notifications.
“Sure.” You reach inside the pocket of his jeans and as you’re about to toss him the phone, he speaks again.
“Just turn my alarm off.” He mumbles in the pillow he’s got his face squished in. So cute.
You snort. “Why do you have an alarm set for Sunday?”
“I was gonna go gym, but wanna snooze with you. Is that alright?” He fires back, sarcastic even when he’s sleepy.
“I guess that’s alright.” You feign an exasperated sigh. “What’s your passcode?”
“Six-nine-six-nine.” He mutters indifferently and you snort again at the silly combination of numbers he’s chosen. Of course it’s sex related.
“Meaningful.”
“Just do it and come back to bed.” He huffs impatiently, which makes you giggle.
The delighted sound is cut short the second his phone unlocks. Two incriminating messages from that Yuna girl, and a few more from Haechan. You feel like you’re invading, but they’re right there for your eyes to read. And you instantly regret the whole night.
Yuna: where were u tonight
Yuna: thought we were meeting 🙁
Haechan: yuna is looking for you
Haechan: on the verge of telling her you’re busy clapping cheeks with stats girl
Haechan: she’s pissing me off
Haechan: just cut if off if you’re into y/n
Haechan: don’t be an idiot
You instantly like Haechan a little more and Jeno a little less. Did he really bring you to a party he was planning on meeting a side piece at?
What the actual fuck.
“Get back here.” Jeno grumbles sleepily from the bed, and you’re stuck between throwing the phone at his head and smashing it on the floor.
You do neither. You choose to stay calm for now. You’re too tired to cause a scene or have an argument.
“Coming.” You utter quietly, turning off his alarm before walking back to the bed.
You get under the covers without another word. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, not knowing what to really think. You turn the bedside lamp off, mainly because you want to hide your watering eyes and he instantly shuffles closer, his arm wrapping around you, pulling your back flush against his chest, his body curling into yours comfortably.
The kiss he leaves on your shoulder makes you close your eyes, refusing to shed tears right now. Grow up Y/N.
He lets out a sigh, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck.
“Night, baby.” He whispers softly, sounding already halfway to dreamland.
You knew this was too good to be true. But what are you supposed to do now?
“Night, Jen.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno’s fist hurts from the loud banging on the door of your apartment.
Last night he went to sleep happy and content. Ecstatic at the thought of waking up next to you, spending the morning in bed with you. But when he woke up all alone and confused, all those positive feelings went down the drain. He feels enraged. Humiliated. But most of all, he feels something he hasn’t felt in a really long time. Something that until now, he hasn’t allowed himself to feel.
Hurt.
His chest physically hurt when he realised you weren’t in the bathroom or anywhere else in his place. He felt sick when he saw your clothes were not on his chair anymore and your shoes gone from his doorstep.
But then, when he checked his phone for any missed calls or texts from you, he realised what was going on. And he felt angry. Mostly with himself but also with you, because you chose to not trust him. Again. Because you chose to leave in silence. Because you chose to drop him instead of talking to him.
So, he’s here, banging on your door like a lunatic, running after you like he always is. Because he wants to fix this. Because he can’t let you go. He refuses to.
Because Jeno doesn’t just like you. He’s crazy about you. He wants you like he’s never wanted anybody else in his entire existence.
Because he’s a fool. A fool who’s undeniably in love with the girl he was just supposed to tutor and help pass a stupid stats class.
When the door opens, Mark appears.
“Where is she?” Jeno asks abruptly and Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Um, hi?”
“Yeah. Hi. Where is she?” He repeats, not in the mood for small talk.
“I’m under strict instructions to not let you in.” Mark admits in a low tone. He looks scared.
Jeno walks close to the boy, putting on a fake smile and Mark’s eyes go wide as he takes a step back in fear.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair?” Jeno speaks slowly in a sweet tone, hand raising to squeeze Mark’s shoulder in warning.
“No sir.”
“Good. Tell me where she is.”
“But I-”
“Mark.” Tone devoid of any emotion now. Cold as ice. Mark gulps loudly. “I will genuinely beat the living shit out of you.”
“She’s in the shower.” Mark steps aside obediently, giving Jeno space to enter the apartment. “You can wait in her room.”
Jeno smiles and gently pats Mark on the cheek. “Good boy.”
As he walks down the hall towards your room, Jeno hears Giselle scolding poor Mark, who just whines quietly. Something along the lines of ‘you try then’ and a defeated sigh.
Jeno feels bad for speaking to Mark like that, but he had to do what he had to do. He’ll apologise later. All he really cares about now is you.
He takes a seat at the foot of your made bed and his mind drifts to that night he found you lying in his bed. All sad and alone. He remembers how upset you were about your ex and hates to think that he’s now just another guy who’s hurt you. Because that’s the last thing Jeno wants to do. All he wants is to be with you.
He knows he’s not easy to trust and he knows you have trust issues. You’ve never talked about it, but you don’t have to; he can tell. And he doesn’t care. He’ll do whatever it takes to gain your trust, but he needs you to want him to try. He needs you to listen to what he has to say.
“Was me leaving without a word not enough of a statement?” Your irritated voice interrupts his messy thoughts and Jeno shoots up to his feet.
Here you are, shutting your door closed and leaning against it. Your hair is wet from the shower you’ve clearly just had and you’re dressed in a baggy t-shirt and cute pyjama bottoms with sushi rolls on them. Under normal circumstances his first thought would have been damn, she’s cute but right now all he can see are your red glossy eyes. You’ve been crying. Because of him.
“Why can’t you ever just talk to me when something’s wrong?” His question comes out more accusatory than he intends and he already hates himself for not being able to keep calm.
“What’s the point?” You say weakly, chin quivering, lips pursing as you look at anywhere but him, blinking your tears away and Jeno can’t stand seeing you like this. He just wants to hug you. Keep you safe in his chest.
“Y/N.” He says sternly, walking closer to you and before you can escape, he’s got your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the single tear that’s escaped. “Baby, look at me.”
“Jen, just-”
“Hey, no. Look at me.” He cups your cheeks, even as you attempt to turn away from him. You give in with a defeated sigh. “Those texts you saw. They mean nothing. I swear-”
“I can fucking read.” You interrupt him, voice not so weak now. “She thought you were meeting her.”
“I agreed to that ages ago. I didn’t even remember, I fucking swear! It was before we-” He sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself. “Look. I meant what I said last night. Yes, it was during sex but I really did fucking mean it.”
You blink once.
“You’re my girl.” He steps closer, the sweet smell of your shampoo taking over his senses for a second, but he focuses again. “You’re the only one. I want you. Just you. I’m so- I promise you- I haven’t been with anyone else since that first time. I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”
“Why?” You whisper, eyes wide.
“Because. You’re you. And you’re perfect for me. And I can barely think when you’re around. And I’m literally about to have a heart attack right now.” He grabs your hand and places it on his chest, and he knows you can feel his insane heartbeat when your breath hitches. “You’re so fucking annoying. And I’m crazy about you.”
There. He said it.
You sniffle and before he can say anything else, your arms wrap around his waist, face burying in his heaving chest.
“You have to believe me.” He’s close to begging now, breathing unstable, but he holds you close anyway, arms circling around your shoulders, nose nuzzling in your wet hair.
“I believe you.” You whisper in his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”
“Don’t apologise.” He cuts you off. “I’m the one who fucked up. I should’ve-”
“It’s fine.” You butt in, and he smiles at how you’re both just communicating in unfinished sentences without failing to understand one another.
“So, what now?” He tries tentatively, unsure of how to approach anything at this point. He just wants things between you to be okay.
“I’m tired.” You mumble weakly, and he feels guilt wash over him. You probably didn’t get much sleep last night, while he cluelessly dozed off so quickly.
“Wanna take a nap?” He suggests as his fingers thread through your hair, trying to help you relax.
“Will you stay?” You look up at him with soft eyes, still wet from crying and there goes his aching heart again.
“Of course, baby.” His palms tenderly cradle your face again and he melts when you stand on your tippy toes. He quickly gives into you, head dipping down slightly to give you the kiss you’re silently asking for.
It’s soft and sweet. You taste like you and toothpaste, and he has to pull away before the innocent kiss escalates into something else. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
Once you’re both under your cosy blanket, he lets you rest your head on his chest, arm around your shoulders, one hand stroking your hair, the other tangled with yours, holding them close to his chest, over his now steady heartbeat. Your breathing gradually slows down and when he’s sure you’re asleep, he takes his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocking it and opening his chat with Yuna. He sends the text without even thinking it over and sighs as he sets his phone down on your bedside table.
He smiles as he inhales your familiar scent, his eyes closing in contentment as he keeps repeating the words he just typed out, in his head. Particularly the second sentence.
Can’t see you anymore. I have a girlfriend.
And yeah, he's yet to ask you properly, but at the end of the day, you’re his girl. And it can’t get any deeper than that.
GENRE: Pure SMUT, slightly Enemies-to-Lovers (Slow Burn), Dark Romance (Lite), cheating
CONTENTS(18+ content scroll away if you’re a minor): Pinning, missionary, light bondage, oral (fem receiving), 3some, and some more MINORS DNI
SUMMARY: The Apartment 402, is a place where the lines between protection and possession have been irrevocably blurred. After a week of orchestrated tension and a night of soul-shattering surrender, Y/N wakes up to a terrifying new reality: she isn't just Jeno’s girlfriend anymore, but the shared prize in a game designed by two men who play for keeps. As the bruises fade and the Doberman and his Menace resume their roles as the campus's untouchable elite, Y/N must navigate a life where every public touch is a secret claim and every private moment is a lesson in who truly owns her breath.
Note: I removed the angst haha I thought I could finish it in an hour but I never thought I needed more time. But tada!
well, again, this was pre-written. I forgot about it, and found it again.. i decided to have this posted here so I could share it
But tada! Hehe here you go. 🥹 actually, I wasn’t supposed to post this because It was supposed to be only for my friends’ eyes only. However, since I love you all I decided to tweak it a bit and rewrite it for you guys. I am not confident with this part because again, it’s a story formed out of my friends’ combined imagination. You guys judge. Love ya’ll!!!!
To those new here, this is a part II for this. Or you can read The Doberman’s debt alone. If you don’t wanna get freaky with Jaemin. ;)
🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰
LOML<3 (Jeno) : Just finished the late shift at the gym. I'm outside your door with those overpriced macaroons you like. Open up?
Y/N: It’s 11:30 PM. I’m in my homeless pajamas, Jeno. Go away.
LOML<3 (Jeno) : I've seen you in flannel pants and a library t-shirt, Y/N. You still look like a ten. Plus, the macaroons are getting lonely. Don't be heartless.
When she opened the door, he wouldn't just give her the food. He’d lift her off her feet, bury his face in her neck, and let out a long, weary breath—the kind that said she was his only "off" switch in a high-pressure world.
"You're late," she’d whisper into his shoulder. "I'm here now," he’d respond, his grip tightening. "And I'm not going anywhere."
For those two months, that was the truth.
They were untouchable. They were the gold standard. They were the couple everyone assumed would end up with a house, a dog, and a shared bank account by twenty-five.
To the students of the West Wing, Jeno and Y/N weren’t just "dating"—they were an institution. They were the couple that made the library look like a movie set and the campus cafeteria feel like a five-star lounge.
If Jeno was the Doberman Captain—all sharp lines, discipline, and a protective streak that could freeze a room—then Y/N was the only one who held the leash. She didn't just walk beside him; she challenged him.
They had a specific frequency. You’d see them in the common room at 10:00 PM: Jeno with his head in her lap while he memorized baseball plays, and Y/N ruthlessly highlighting a 500-page audit report.
They were walking across the quad, Jeno effortlessly carrying Y/N’s heavy leather laptop bag over one shoulder while his other arm was draped firmly around her waist, pulling her into his side.
"Jeno, give me my bag," Y/N teased, reaching for the strap. "You have practice in ten minutes. You’re going to be late because you’re playing bellhop."
Jeno didn't even look at the bag. He just tightened his grip on her waist, his eyes scanning the crowd with that terrifyingly calm gaze that made other guys look away. "I’m the Captain. Practice starts when I get there. Besides," he leaned down, his voice dropping to that silky register, "if I let you carry this, how am I supposed to justify keeping you this close?"
Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile was bright enough to blind. "You’re so dramatic. It’s finance textbooks, not a child."
"It’s your textbooks," Jeno corrected, stopping in front of her lecture hall. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering on her jawline. "Which makes them more important than the game. Pick you up at four?"
Jeno was still staring at the lecture hall doors with a faint, uncharacteristic soft smile when the peace of the morning was violently dismantled. He watched as Y/N slid inside the building.
"Oh, look at him. He’s glitching. The Doberman has been rebooted into a Golden Retriever," a voice sang out with malicious glee.
Jeno didn't even have to turn around to know Haechan was leaning against a nearby tree, looking like he had spent the last ten minutes recording the entire interaction for his "Evidence of Jeno Being Whipped" folder.
"I’m literally going to be sick," Mark groaned, standing next to him with his face buried in his hands. "I saw the thumb on the jawline, Jeno. I saw it. That’s my cousin. We shared a sandbox, and now you’re... you’re doing that with your thumb."
"It’s called affection, Mark. You should try it sometime," Jeno deadpanned, sliding back into place as he adjusted his grip on his own gear.
"Affection? You looked like you were ready to guard that door with a riot shield until she came back out," Chenle chimed in, stepping out from behind a pillar while aggressively checking his watch. "Also, Jeno, if you’re going to be a bellhop for free, you’re ruining the market. I have three suitcases arriving from Paris this afternoon. I’ll pay you in protein shakes and silence."
The three of them swarmed Jeno before he could make a break for the baseball fields.
"Seriously though," Mark said, finally looking up, his expression a mix of betrayal and genuine confusion. "How? It’s been two months and I still wake up in a cold sweat remembering that I’m the one who introduced you. I’m the catalyst for my own nightmare."
"You’re just mad because Jeno doesn't look at you with predatory hunger when you ask him for help with your lyrics," Haechan teased, dodging a half-hearted shove from Jeno.
"I don't look at anyone with predatory hunger," Jeno muttered.
"Liar!" Chenle shouted, pointing a finger at him.
"I saw you at lunch yesterday. Y/N took a bite of your sandwich—the sandwich you never share, the one you’d fight a freshman for—and you just sat there looking like you wanted to thank her for the privilege of her saliva touching your bread. It was pathetic. I almost lost my appetite, and my lunch cost sixty dollars."
"Does she actually have a leash, or is it metaphorical?" Haechan asked, circling Jeno like a shark. "Because I heard a rumor that if she snaps her fingers, you’ll actually sit. We should test it. Mark, snap your fingers."
"I am not snapping my fingers at my friend," Mark hissed.
"Do it, Mark. For science," Chenle urged.
Mark let out a frustrated sound, his eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline.
"I just... I don't get it. Jeno, you’re the guy who used to scare away her dates by just standing near them. Now you’re the one she’s yelling at for not wearing a coat when it’s 50 degrees out. And you put the coat on."
Jeno stopped walking, looking at Mark with a terrifyingly calm expression.
"Because she was right. It was cold."
"He’s gone," Haechan whispered, horrified.
"The Doberman is dead. He’s been replaced by a sentient Husband Material robot."
"He’s not a robot," Chenle corrected, looking at his phone.
"Robots are efficient. Jeno is currently five minutes late for practice because he was busy tucking a stray hair behind a girl’s ear. That’s a hardware malfunction."
Jeno finally broke through their circle, starting a light jog toward the fields to avoid further roasting.
"Go to class, you losers! And Mark—tell your aunt I’m coming over for dinner on Sunday!"
Mark froze, his jaw dropping as Jeno disappeared around the corner. "Dinner? On Sunday? That’s family night! That’s my night for galbi!"
Haechan patted Mark’s shoulder with mock sympathy. "Face it, Mark. You’re not the favorite son anymore. You’re just the guy who lives in the shadow of the Doberman and the Finance Prodigy."
"I hate it here," Mark whispered to the sky. "I actually hate it here."
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The West Wing was usually quiet on Tuesday afternoons, a sanctuary of high ceilings and the distant sound of the campus clock tower. Y/N moved down the hallway toward Apartment 402, the weight of a heavy leather tote bag on her shoulder and two iced Americanos in her hand. She was early, a rare occurrence, but the thought of surprising Jeno before his late-afternoon seminar was too tempting to pass up.
She slid her spare key into the lock, the mechanism clicking with a familiar, heavy thud.
"Jeno? I brought the caffeine fix, don't say I never—"
The sentence died in her throat, air evaporating from her lungs.
The living room was bathed in the amber glow of the 3:00 PM sun, but it wasn't Jeno waiting by the window.
Jaemin was leaning against the marble kitchen island, his back to her. He was freshly back from a run, his chest heaving in a slow, rhythmic cadence that made the muscles of his back ripple under skin slicked with sweat.
He didn't scramble for a towel. He didn't even seem surprised. He just tilted his head back, letting a stream of ice-cold water from a bottle pour over his throat, the excess droplets racing down the carved lines of his abdomen before disappearing beneath the dangerously low waistband of his grey joggers.
"Well, well," he hummed, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to travel across the floorboards. He turned around slowly, the smirk on his face sharp enough to cut. "The Princess is early. And here I thought I had at least ten more minutes of freedom."
Jaemin didn't move to close the distance immediately. He stayed against the island, his arms folded over his bare chest, showcasing the terrifyingly perfect definition of a man who treated his body like a temple and his charm like a weapon.
"Jeno’s at the library," Jaemin said, his eyes tracing the way Y/N’s grip tightened on the coffee cups. "But you knew that, didn't you? Or maybe... you were hoping for a change of scenery."
"I... I thought he was here," Y/N managed, her voice a pitch higher than usual. She tried to look at the fridge, the toaster, the wall—anywhere but the way the sunlight was dancing off the damp curve of his shoulder. "Put a shirt on, Jaemin. It’s a shared space."
"It’s my space," he corrected softly. He finally moved, his bare feet silent as he prowled toward her. Every step was deliberate, a predatory grace that made the room feel suddenly, claustrophobically small. "And it’s hot, Y/N. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the heat."
He stopped just inches away. The scent of him—sea salt, cedar, and the raw, electric heat of a workout—hit her like a physical force. Jaemin was taller than he looked when he was sitting in class; he loomed over her, his presence an intoxicating weight.
He reached out, not to touch her, but to take one of the coffees from her trembling hand. His fingers brushed hers—cold condensation meeting his searing skin—and the contact felt like a live wire. He didn't pull away. He let his knuckles linger against the back of her hand, his gaze dropping to her neck, where her pulse was jumping frantically.
"You're staring," he whispered, his voice dropping into a register that was purely for her. He leaned down, his face hovering just beside her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Is it the sweat? Or is it the fact that for once, the Doberman isn't here to keep you on your leash?"
Y/N felt the back of her knees hit the edge of the hallway table. She was trapped between the wood and the heat of him. Jaemin tilted his head, his nose almost brushing the line of her jaw. He was being utterly, ruinously shameless.
"I wonder," he murmured, his eyes dark and swirling with a playful, dangerous light as they finally met hers. "If I leaned in just an inch more... would you scream for him? Or would you keep it our little secret?"
He let his hand slide from the coffee cup to the small of her back, his palm flat against the fabric of her shirt, pulling her just a fraction of an inch closer until the heat of his bare chest was nearly touching her. The tension was a cord pulled so tight it was vibrating, the air in the room thick enough to drown in.
"Jaemin..." she breathed, a warning that sounded more like a plea.
He just smiled, a slow, devastating curve of his lips. "Your heart is racing, Y/N. I can feel it through your clothes. Tell me... does Jeno make you feel this nervous? Or am I just that much more... interesting?"
What the fuck is going on? Y/N mind was racing; she doesn’t wxactly know why Jaemin is doing this. Jaemin is such an eye candy. He’s pretty and really hot. She acknowledges that. However she has Jeno.. His best friend. Why would he tease her like this?
The heavy thud of the front door swinging open broke the spell.
Jeno walked in, his baseball bag slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the disciplined Captain—until he saw the scene in his living room. His eyes narrowed instantly, his protective streak flaring like a signal fire.
"Jaemin," Jeno’s voice was a low warning, the kind he used before a confrontation on the field. "Why are you standing three inches away from my girlfriend while you’re naked?"
Y/N practically jumped back, her face a bright, incriminating crimson. She began fanning herself with her hand. "Jeno! You're back! It’s... it’s really hot in here, right? The AC must be broken."
Jaemin didn't even flinch. He just straightened up, flashed Jeno a dazzling, perfectly innocent smile, and finally grabbed a discarded towel from the back of the couch to drape over his shoulder.
"She was just helping me look for my contact lens on the floor, Jen," Jaemin lied effortlessly, patting Jeno’s shoulder as he walked past him toward the hallway. "You really should keep the place cleaner. It’s a hazard for our guest."
He paused at the door of his room, looking back over his shoulder at Y/N with a final, devastating wink that only she could see.
"Have fun studying, kids. Try not to let the 'humidity' get to you."
He shut his door with a soft click, leaving Y/N standing there, still flushed and clutching the takeout, while Jeno dropped his bag and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist, his eyes still fixed suspiciously on Jaemin’s door.
"What was he actually doing?" Jeno asked, his voice dropping into that protective, silky register as he tucked her head under his chin.
"Being Jaemin," Y/N exhaled, finally feeling her heart rate slow down. "Which is to say... being a menace."
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The common area of Apartment 402 was a battlefield of highlighters, discarded snack wrappers, and chaotic energy. Even without Jeno, the West Wing felt crowded. Mark was aggressively debating a case study with Donghyuck, while Chenle and Jisung were hovering over a laptop, laughing at something that definitely wasn't academic.
"If I see one more derivative, I’m dropping out to become a professional gamer," Donghyuck groaned, tossing his pen at the ceiling.
"You'd have to actually be good at games for that, Hyuck," Jaemin chimed in from the armchair, his legs draped over the side as he flicked through a magazine. He looked effortless, a contrast to the frantic stress radiating from the table.
"Y/N, save us," Mark pleaded, looking at her. "Tell them my logic is sound."
"I’m staying out of this," Y/N laughed, standing up and gathering her hair into a messy bun. "In fact, I’m going to go make those homemade pizzas I promised. If you lot stay out of the kitchen, you might actually get fed."
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The muffled shouts and laughter from the living room became background noise as Y/N stepped into the kitchen. She started laying out the dough, the flour dusting her fingers as she tried to focus on the simple, tactile task.
She didn't hear the footsteps—Jaemin was notoriously silent—but she felt the shift in the air.
"Need a hand, Princess? You know I'm the only one here who actually knows the difference between oregano and basil."
Jaemin was suddenly there, leaning against the counter. He didn't wait for an answer. Before she could move, his large hands settled firmly on her waist. It wasn't a tentative touch; it was a heavy, shameless grip that pulled her back just a fraction.
"Jaemin, stop," she whispered, her heart doing a frantic staccato against her ribs.
"Stop what?" he asked, his voice light and airy, the picture of innocence. "I’m being friendly. Jeno’s busy, and the guys are starving. I'm just here to help."
He leaned over her shoulder, ostensibly to look at the sauce she was prepping.
"What are we doing first? The crust looks a little thin."
Y/N tried to keep her hands steady, explaining the process of the toppings, but she was acutely aware of how close he was.
She doesn’t know if she liked the attention—the pretty boy of the group was focusing all his gravity on her—and that realization made her feel sick with guilt and dizzy with adrenaline.
As she reached for the cheese, she felt it—the ghost of a sensation.
A soft, lingering brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. It was so subtle she almost thought she imagined it.
"Did you just..." she turned her head, her face flushed.
Jaemin let out a melodious, teasing laugh, his eyes crinkling. "Did I what? What are you talking about, Y/N?."
He stepped even closer, his body now flush against her back. The friendly pretence was evaporating. As he moved to "help" her spread the sauce, she felt the unmistakable, hard pressure of him against her.
His hard cock was pressed against her ass. Her breath hitched, her hands hovering uselessly over the pizza dough.
The playful mask didn't just slip; Jaemin threw it away. He let out a low, dark hum as he leaned into her, his hips beginning a slow, agonizingly deliberate grind against her.
"You're so tense," he whispered, his voice dropping into a demeaning, velvet growl right in her ear.
"Is this too much for you? Does the perfect little girlfriend feel like she's breaking? You're a mess for me, aren't you?"
Before she could protest, his hands moved from her waist, sliding up with predatory speed to cup her breasts. His palms were large, covering her completely as he began to massage them through her shirt with a rhythm that was purely carnal.
"Jaemin... t-the guys... t-they're right there," she choked out, her head falling back against his shoulder.
"Shh..they aren't looking," he hissed, his grip tightening as he forced her to lean over the counter.
He was in heat now, the shamelessness reaching a breaking point. He bent her forward, his weight pinning her against the cold marble as he continued to grind into her with a desperate intensity. "Jeno doesn't have to know how much you like this. He doesn't have to know how good you feel against me."he whispers.
The reality of the situation hit Y/N like a bucket of ice water. The sound of Mark’s laugh from the other room snapped the tether.
"N-No" she gasped, using every bit of her strength to shove back against him. She scrambled away, her chest heaving, her hands shaking so violently she had to grip the edge of the fridge. "This... this is wrong. You’re—you’re his best friend, Jaemin! I can’t—"
She couldn't even finish the sentence. Stuttering and humiliated, she smoothed her shirt with trembling hands and practically bolted back into the living room, her face a frantic shade of red.
Five seconds later, Jaemin strolled back into the room. He looked perfectly composed, not a hair out of place. He caught Y/N’s eye and gave her a bright, cheery smile as he sat back down in his armchair.
"Pizza’s gonna be a few more minutes, guys," he announced to the group, his voice steady and light. "Y/N just needs a moment to let the dough... rise."
He winked at her—a silent, wicked promise that this was far from over—before picking up his magazine as if he hadn't just tried to dismantle her world.
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The air in the apartment was thick with the frenetic energy of a man preparing for war. Jeno was in Captain Mode organized, intense, and radiating a magneti power. Cardboard boxes of protein bars and stacks of freshly laundered West Wing jerseys littered the sofa, while the sharp, metallic tang of his favorite cologne clung to every surface.
Y/N was kneeling by his open suitcase, carefully smoothing out a hoodie, when she felt his shadow loom over her. Before she could tuck the sleeve in, Jeno’s large hands slid under her arms, lifting her with effortless strength and settling her firmly onto his lap as he sat back on the edge of the bed.
"Focus on me for a second," he murmured. His voice had dropped into that low, authoritative thrum that usually made people move out of his way on the field, but for her, it was laced with a thick, persuasive sweetness.
"Jeno, the flight is in four hours, and you haven't even packed your cleats," she laughed softly, trying to twist around to look at him, but his grip on her waist was ironclad.
"The cleats can wait," he said, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin beneath her ear. "I’m more worried about you. Stay here while I’m gone. Just for the week. The city is a mess during championship season, and I’ll be a thousand miles away. I’ll feel better knowing you’re behind a keycard I trust. Plus... Jaemin will be here to look out for you."
Y/N froze for a fraction of a second. "Jeno, I have my own apartment. It has three locks and a doorman." She pulled back, searching his dark, steady eyes. "And Jaemin? He’s... he’s a handful. You know how he is. He doesn't exactly have a 'protective' bone in his body that isn't wrapped in sarcasm."
Jeno chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated against her chest. He looked so sincere, the picture of a concerned boyfriend. "He promised me he’d be on his best behavior. I’ve already talked to him. He’s going to make sure you’re fed, keep you company, and—most importantly—keep everyone else away."
He leaned in, pressing a lingering, possessive kiss to her jawline, his lips warm and demanding. "Do it for me? I need to know my girl is safe so I can keep my head in the game. Please, Princess?"
He looked the part of the devoted protector so perfectly that Y/N felt her resistance crumble. She didn't see it—couldn't have seen it—but as she rested her forehead against Jeno’s shoulder in a silent 'yes,' Jeno’s gaze shifted.
Over her shoulder, he caught Jaemin’s eyes. Jaemin was leaning against the doorframe, a half-eaten apple in one hand and a dangerous, knowing glint in his eyes. There was no words spoken, just a slow, imperceptible nod from Jeno—a "passing of the torch"—and a sharp, predatory smirk from Jaemin in return.
It wasn't a request for a babysittxer; it was a silent, orchestrated invitation to a game Y/N didn't even know she was playing yet.
"Good girl," Jeno whispered into her hair, his hand giving her hip a firm, final squeeze. "Nana will take excellent care of you. Won't you, Jaemin?"
"The best," Jaemin’s voice drifted from the doorway, light and utterly devoid of its usual mockery. "I’ll make sure she gets exactly what she needs."
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Three days into the trip, the apartment was quiet.
Y/N was sprawled across Jeno’s bed, her oversized sleep shirt riding up her thighs as she focused intensely on a mobile game.
The door creaked open. Jaemin didn't knock; he never did. He was dressed in loose gym shorts, his hair damp and messy.
"You’re losing," he remarked, flopping onto the mattress beside her. The bed dipped under his weight, and the sudden heat of his body made the air feel thin.
"I am not. Go away, Nana," she muttered, elbowing him.
"Move over. If you're going to occupy my best friend's bed, the least you can do is share the screen."
He began to poke at her phone, sabotaging her moves and sparking a chaotic flurry of banter.
They wrestled over the device, laughing and breathless, until Jaemin pinned her wrists above her head, looming over her with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Suddenly, the laughter died. Jaemin wasn't looking at the phone anymore. His gaze had dropped, heavy and hungry, to the wide neckline of her shirt. Because she was lying flat, the fabric gaped open, offering a clear, unobstructed view of her bare breasts.
"Jaemin..." she warned, her voice trembling.
"You're not wearing a bra, Princess," he whispered.
His shamelessness was back, but this time it was darker, more concentrated.
"Does Jeno know you stay like this when he’s gone? So... accessible?"
"Get off," she breathed, but she didn't push. The thrill of his attention was a forbidden drug, and her body was already reacting, her nipples hardening under his intense stare.
Jaemin tilted his head, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his bottom lip. "I have a question. A very polite, friendly question." He leaned down until his nose brushed against the valley between her breasts. "Can I suck them? Just for a second."
:)
"W-what? No—"
He didn't wait for the 'no' to land.
Jaemin disappeared under the hem of her oversized shirt like a predator into a cave. The darkness of the fabric tented over them as he found her.
When his mouth latched onto her nipple, Y/N let out a broken gasp, her fingers tangling in the sheets.
He wasn't gentle. He used his tongue to swirl around the peak before drawing the whole length of her into his mouth, sucking with a rhythmic, demanding pressure. The sensation sent a direct jolt of electricity to her core.
She was already slick, her body betraying her loyalty to Jeno with every wet, needy pulse.
"You like that, don't you?" his muffled voice came from beneath the shirt, vibrating against her skin.
He crawled downward, his hands sliding up her inner thighs to pry her legs wide. He didn't bother removing her lace panties. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of her groin, licking her clit through the thin, damp fabric. It was agonizingly slow.
The friction of the lace combined with the heat of his tongue was a specialized torture.
"Please, J-Jaemin..." she sobbed, her hips arching off the bed.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his face flushed and his eyes wild. His pretty face glistening with her wetness.
He let out a menacing, low chuckle.
"Please what? Please stop? Or please remind you why you’re such a good little cheat?"
He didn't give her time to answer. He shoved two thick fingers past the edge of her panties, driving them deep inside her. He began to fuck her with a brutal, relentless pace, his thumb working the fabric against her clit until the world blurred into a haze of white heat.
"Look at you," he taunted, his voice a demeaning silk.
"Drenched for your boyfriend's roommate. You're so pathetic, Y/N."
The climax hit her like a physical blow, her walls clamping down on his fingers as she cried out his name—a sin she couldn't take back.
Jaemin watched her come, a look of pure, arrogant triumph on his pretty face. When she finally slumped back into the pillows, spent and shaking, he slowly withdrew his hand. He looked at his glistening fingers, then—with a direct, soul-piercing gaze—he sucked them clean.
"You're pretty when you're ruined," he said casually, sitting up and stretching as if they had just finished a casual conversation. He stood up, adjusted his shorts, and headed toward the door. "I’m going back to the gym. Try to get some sleep, Princess. You look exhausted."
He left without a backward glance, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Y/N in the silence of Jeno’s bed, wondering how a lookout had managed to set her entire life on fire.
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A few days went by and Y/N is basically still thinking about what happened. The air in the apartment had become a physical weight. Every time Y/N moved from one room to another, the hair on her arms stood up. She felt hunted, but the predator wasn't hiding; he was simply waiting.
She spent the evening in a state of high-alert avoidance. When she tried to watch TV, she heard Jaemin’s door click open, and she immediately bolted for the kitchen. When she tried to read in Jeno’s room, she heard his low, melodic hum in the hallway, and she locked the door. But the West Wing wasn't big enough to hide from a man who had the keys to every exit.
By midnight, thirst finally drove her out. The apartment was bathed in the ghostly blue glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She moved silently, her bare feet padding against the hardwood, heading for the kitchen island.
She had just touched the cold glass of the faucet when the temperature in the room seemed to spike.
She didn't hear him approach, but suddenly, the scent of sea salt and adrenaline was everywhere. Jaemin didn't just walk up to her; he materialized like a shadow. Before she could turn, his large, calloused hands clamped onto her waist.
"Still running, Princess?" he murmured against the shell of her ear. "You're going to trip if you keep looking over your shoulder."
"Jaemin, let go," she gasped, but her protest was weak, muffled by the sheer gravity of his presence.
He didn't listen. With a sudden, explosive movement, he gripped her under her thighs and hoisted her up. Y/N let out a startled yelp as he slammed her down onto the cold marble of the kitchen island. Her phone and a stack of Jeno’s mail were swept aside in one violent motion, clattering to the floor like discarded afterthoughts.
He stepped between her knees, his body a solid wall of heat that pinned her in place. He looked down at her, his eyes dark, blown out, and utterly devoid of the playful persona.
"Jeno’s gonna be here soon," he whispered, his voice a dark, velvet promise that sent a shiver of terror and longing down her spine. "That means for meantime, he doesn't exist. Tonight is mine. I’m going to make sure that when he touches you again, you still feel me screaming in your bones."
He reached for the hem of her shirt, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of her stomach. "You’ve been a very good girl this week, Y/N. You stayed where he told you to stay. You let me 'look after' you. But you haven't learned the most important lesson yet."
"And what's that?" she breathed, her hands instinctively coming up to rest on his broad, bare shoulders.
Jaemin leaned in, his lips hovering a breath away from hers, his gaze fixed on her mouth with a terrifying hunger.
"That you don't belong to a man who isn't here to claim you," he hissed. "You belong to the one who’s actually willing to break you."
He didn't wait for a rebuttal. He reached for the button of his shorts, the metallic click sounding like a gunshot in the quiet kitchen. He was already fully, dangerously hard—thick, veiny, and pulsing with a demand that made Y/N’s head light.
Unlike Jeno’s usual gentle, reverent approach, Jaemin grabbed her hair, tilting her head back to expose the long line of her throat. He looked at her with a predatory smirk before he positioned himself.
"Last chance to run, Princess," he taunted, though he didn't move back an inch. "But we both know you’ve been waiting for this since the second Jeno walked out that door."
With a sudden, forceful lunge, he drove his painfully erect big cock into her, the sheer size of him stretching her until she thought she might snap.
His thrusts were painfully slow but really harsh, only for her to let out sounds of pleasure.
She was screaming at this point; it is being swallowed by the high ceilings of the apartment as the final lesson officially began.
He didn't let her recover. He hauled her off the table and dragged her toward the bedroom, the very place she was supposed to be "safe." He threw her onto the mattress and dived between her legs, his thrusts getting even faster, even more relentless.
The bed frame groaned under the violence of his movements. Jaemin leaned down, his mouth catching her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth with a punishing pressure while his hand reached down to find her clit. His, handsome sweaty face smirks down at her, licking his lips as he continues to fuck the daylights out of her.
He worked her with a cruel, expert precision, his fingers a blur as he whispered filth into her ear.
"You're ruined, Princess. You're never going to be able to look at him the same way. Every time he touches you, you're going to feel me inside you."
Y/N was losing her mind. Her eyes were crossing, her vision swimming in white spots as she felt her climax building like a tidal wave.
She was screaming, her voice raw, her body arched in a perfect, desperate bow under his weight.
Jaemin’s pace became frantic, a blurring speed that pushed her over the edge.
He didn't slow down; he drove deeper, his teeth baring as he prepared to release. Y/N tried to gasp out a warning, to tell him not to, but the words were lost in a moan.
Jaemin let out a low, guttural growl as he filled her completely, his body shuddering with the force of his come.
The silence that followed was broken not by a heartbeat, but by the sharp, violent slam of the front door.
Y/N froze, her chest heaving, her skin slick with Jaemin's sweat. "Jeno?" she wheezed, terror flooding her veins.
The bedroom door flew open. Jeno stood there, his baseball bag still on his shoulder, his eyes dark and unreadable as they took in the scene: his girlfriend pinned to his bed, dripping with his best friend's release.
Jaemin didn't scramble. He didn't even look guilty. He slowly pulled out, the wet sound echoing in the quiet room, and sat up, leaning back on his elbows. He looked at Jeno and gave him a slow, knowing smirk—the kind of look shared between teammates who had just executed a perfect play.
"Perfect timing, Jen," Jaemin said, his voice completely calm. "She was just starting to learn her lesson."
Jeno didn't yell. He didn't charge at Jaemin. Instead, he dropped his bag and walked over to the bed, his gaze raking over Y/N’s trembling, ruined form. He reached out and ran a thumb over her swollen lip, his expression shifting into something terrifyingly satisfied.
"I told you he’d take good care of you," Jeno murmured, his voice dropping into that possessive, velvet register.
He looked up at Jaemin, a dark, orchestrated understanding passing between them.
"Did she give you any trouble, Nana?"
"None at all," Jaemin chuckled, grabbing a towel to wipe his hands.
"She’s a fast learner. I think she’s finally ready for the both of us.
Y/N looked between them, her heart dropping into her stomach as the realization hit. The "lookout," the trip, the isolation—it wasn't a mistake. It was a trap.
The atmosphere in the room shifted from chaotic to cold and calculated the moment Jeno dropped his bag. There was no comfort for Y/N, no soft reunion. Instead, Jeno stepped toward the bed with a look of dark, simmering hunger that made the Doberman look like a wolf.
"Rest?" Jeno echoed her silent plea, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips as he unbuckled his belt.
"You’ve had all week to rest while my best friend did my job for me. Now, you’re going to show me how much you missed me."
Without a shred of his usual gentleness, Jeno grabbed her by the hair, his knuckles white as he forced her to her knees at the edge of the bed. He didn't ask; he commanded.
He shoved his cock—already thumping and heavy—into her mouth with a forceful thrust that made her eyes water instantly.
"Suck it," he growled, his voice a low, demeaning vibration.
"Show me you haven't forgotten the taste of your boyfriend while you were busy being a slut for Jaemin."
He began to fuck her mouth with a relentless, rhythmic pace, his hands gripping her head to guide her deeper.
Tears escaped her eyes, tracking down her cheeks as she struggled to keep up with his dominance. Jeno didn't care. He spat out mean, dirty words, mocking the way her throat worked until he finally groaned, his body tensing as he came down her throat, forcing her to take every drop.
Jaemin leaned over, his thumb catching a stray tear on her cheek. "Aww, look at her," he cooed, his voice sweet but his eyes freezing cold.
"She’s so sensitive now." Suddenly, his grip tightened on her chin.
"Stop crying. Sit on him. Now."
Jaemin forced her to straddle Jeno, who was lying back against the headboard, his eyes hooded and dark. He made her face him, her legs spread wide, exposing everything to his predatory gaze.
"Ride him, Y/N," Jaemin commanded, kneeling between her open knees.
"Let's see if you can still handle the Gold Standard."
She struggled, her muscles aching and her mind reeling, but as she began to move on Jeno, Jaemin leaned in.
He buried his face in her exposed, dripping pussy, his tongue found her clit with a terrifying accuracy.
The overstimulation was instant. With Jeno filling her from below and Jaemin eating her out from the front, Y/N’s head fell back, her screams echoing through the apartment.
Jeno reached up, his large hands catching both of her nipples, pinching and twisting them in sync with her frantic movements.
"You like being our toy, don't you?" Jeno hissed, his hips bucking up to meet her with bruising force.
As she reached the peak, her body vibrating on the edge of a shattering climax, both men suddenly stopped. The silence was deafening.
"Please..." she sobbed, her hips twitching in a desperate search for friction. "Please, I need to—"
"Need to what?" Jaemin laughed, his face glistening with her wetness as he looked up at her.
"You want to cum? You have to ask properly."
"Kneel," Jeno ordered, his voice like iron.
Broken and completely undone, Y/N slid off them and onto her knees on the mattress, her head bowed. "Please... can I cum? Please, Jeno... Jaemin..."
"Pathetic," Jeno remarked, though his eyes were blazing. "Let's give the little toy what she wants."
They flipped her onto her stomach, the transition fast and professional. Jeno positioned himself at her pussy, while Jaemin—whose cock was pulsing with an aggressive, veiny heat—lined himself up with her ass.
They drove home at the same time.
Y/N’s world ended. The dual sensation of being filled in both holes, the sheer girth of them stretching her to her absolute limit, fried her nervous system. Saliva dripped from her chin onto the sheets as her mind went blank. They fucked her with a brutal, synchronized power, their bodies slamming against hers until the bed hit the wall repeatedly.
"Ours," Jaemin growled, his hands digging into her hips. "You belong to both of us now."
Jeno gripped her neck tightly, slightly stopping her airflow as he thrusts in and out of his girlfriend.
Y/N was too overwhelmed, pleasure was all over her body.
Until the final explosion. They both came deep inside her at the exact same moment she hit a screaming, soul-shattering climax.
She collapsed into the pillows, a ruined, beautiful mess, while the two men looked at each other over her body, the plan finally, perfectly complete.
Y/N had finally thought she could rest now that it’s done.
