𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕- “hii i don't know if you're accepting requests, but could you do nct dream reaction to you still being horny and wanting more rounds, even tho you just had sex and they're exhausted 🫠” ⓢ
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𝒑.𝒋𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏s
Perv!bestfriend! jisung who… ⓢ
Perv!bestfriend!Jisung who..pt.2 ⓢ
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕
It's been a week since the practice room incident ⓢ
no strings attached pt1. - Everyone's been raving about Black Horizon, and now they're in town for a concert. You never paid them any mind-didn't even know who they were, that was until you discovered that their lead guitarist is your long lost childhood best friend. You're finally reunited, but at what cost? ⓢⓐⓕ
no strings attached pt2. ⓐⓕ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
Omg can you maybe do like visiting jisung in the practice room for a quickie while the others are out #dontgetcaught!!” ⓢ
Your ok with it could you plz plz plzzz do another one with subby jisung? ⓢ
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𝒍. 𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕
drunken thoughts- You and your friend group decides to play a new and risky drinking game, but it only becomes risky for you and Haechan. ⓢ
cyber sex- One day your friend joked to you and told you about these corny little audio guys that were on sound cloud. ⓢ
House of cards- “You want to make quick cash, I have a way.” ⓐⓢ
Teach me to not love- Jaemin’s out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You’re just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan’s mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He’s cute, addictive— you should stay away… you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what’s right? ⓐⓢⓕ
Part 1, Part two, Part 3 + bonus epilogue (coming July 2nd)
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒍. 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕
How can you mend a broken heart?- “It’s only to make him Jealous Y/n, swear.” ⓕⓐ
Interminable- No matter how much you claim you don’t want someone, or force your feelings away, you can never hide the truth ⓐⓢ
Friends with benefits (first person pov) - you walk in on your roommate and long time friend doing something… a small argument about it turns into something else ⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
I saw this tweet that was like mark would be the type to say dude romantically and i can’t stop thinking about it 😣😩! ⓕ
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𝒏.𝒋𝒂𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕
arguments- you and your bf got into an argument the night before, but you still have an attitude that he wants to knock out of you. ⓢ
White tee (first person pov)- no summary, just read :) ⓢ
House of cards- “You want to make quick cash, I have a way.” ⓐⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒉. 𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
Perv!roomate!Renjun who… ⓢ
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕
Self control- your roommate is fed up with how you dress around the apartment and asks you to stop, but you’re fed up with him acting like he doesn’t like it so you finally confront him. ⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒛. 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒆
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
coming soon~
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
Try, try not to think about us in that way (first person pov)-You and Chenle has been friends for years now, since freshman year of Highschool, you finally graduate and go on a summer trip that you guys have been fantasizing to go… ⓢ
Try, try not think about us in that way pt2. ⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒍. 𝒋𝒆𝒏𝒐
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕- WayV ot6 with reader who has known each other since childhood and end up having sex after a party!!! ⓢ
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𝒍. 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
blame it on the high- you finally give into your stoner roommates habit and decide to smoke with him, the high makes you different you… ⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒍. 𝒕𝒆𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
Can I, be the one for you? (First person pov)- Your boss seems to have a problem with you, and loves to tease you and make you work harder than the rest, that’s when you both get invited on a business trip that could change everything, literally. Are you gonna go on this business trip with him or not? ⓐⓢ
One more night with you (first person pov) pt2.- it’s been years since everyone has split up from high school, but a knock on the door graduation day changes everything. ⓐⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒒. 𝒌𝒖𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒅. 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒘𝒊𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒙. 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒖𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒘. 𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒚
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝑶𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕- none yet
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𝒍. 𝒕𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒈
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
Omg imagine sucking off taeyong backstage right before a show 😭😫 ⓢ
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𝒌. 𝒅𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
Kalopsia (first person pov)- I went back to my college town, my dad worried about me and my safety makes sure to load me with a bodyguard to be safe, little do I know it turns into a whole web of secrets, lies, and history that shouldn’t have been dug up. ⓐⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒋. 𝒋𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
Kalopsia (first person pov)- I went back to my college town, my dad worried about me and my safety makes sure to load me with a bodyguard to be safe, little do I know it turns into a whole web of secrets, lies, and history that shouldn’t have been dug up. ⓐⓢ
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒏. 𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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𝒌. 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒐
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
none yet
𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
none yet
𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕
none yet
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all works reserved to @mafiadad5. Do not edit, repost, translate, or revise.
a/n- hi guys! It’s been a while since I’ve written one of these and I swore I wouldn’t, but did you guys see those photos?? I had to omg. I hope you enjoy and I think this is the last part! Love you all mwah mwah 💋 !
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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who always came over with some excuse and a gift bag dangling from his fingers, pretending he "just saw it and thought of you," like he wasn't carefully picking out things he wanted to see on your body. Tiny skirts, soft sweaters that slipped off one shoulder, tops that hugged just enough to make his eyes linger a second too long.
And every single time, he'd sit there waiting while you tried them on, all casual, sprawled across your bed with his phone in hand like he wasn't impatiently listening for the bathroom door to open.
"Go ahead, try it on." He urged, smiling as he handed you the bag.
You peeked inside, immediately pulling out a black lace tank top. "Jisung..." You laughed under your breath. "This is kinda scandalous."
"What? It's cute." He shrugged innocently, but the smug little twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Just try it."
"Okay, okay." You rolled your eyes, disappearing into the bathroom.
The second you slipped it on, you understood why he bought it. The material clung to your skin like a second layer, soft black lace tracing down your torso and dipping low enough to frame your cleavage perfectly. It wasn't vulgar, but it definitely wasn't innocent either. The straps were thin, delicate, making your bare shoulders stand out, and the fabric hugged your waist so well.
You stared at yourself for another second before opening the door. Jisung was half paying attention to his phone until he heard the click, then his eyes lifted and stayed there.
"Is it cute?" You asked softly, turning a little for him.
His gaze dragged over you painfully slow, from your shoulders to your waist before settling right at your chest. His lips parted slightly, a low hum leaving his throat before he leaned back against the bed.
"Wow." He muttered, almost to himself.
Heat crawled up your neck under the intensity of his stare. "What?"
He shook his head once, standing up from the mattress. "Come here."
You obeyed without thinking, stopping right in front of him. His fingers slid beneath one of the straps, lightly tugging it into place before his hand moved lower, brushing the lace near your cleavage. "I don't think you're wearing it right." He murmured.
"Jisung..."
"Hm?" His voice was too calm for someone touching you like that.
Two fingers hooked between the lace at your chest, gently pulling you closer until your body bumped against his.
"Careful." He chuckled softly when your hand instinctively pressed against his chest for balance.
You could feel how warm he was through his hoodie. Feel how close his face suddenly seemed.
His hands moved around your waist, fingertips grazing your sides as he adjusted the straps again, deliberately slow this time. The top slipped lower against your skin, showing just enough to make his eyes darken.
"There." He whispered.
But he didn't step away. His gaze stayed locked on your chest for another lingering second before finally flicking back up to your face, a smug smile pulling at his lips when he noticed how flustered you looked.
"Perfect." He said quietly. "Looks so fucking cute on you."
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Perv!bestfriend!jisung who noticed the second you walked through the apartment door looking drained, your shoulders slumped forward while your fingers rubbed absentminded circles into your lower back.
He immediately looked up from the couch. "Tough shift?"
You let out a tired groan instead of answering, kicking your shoes off near the door.
"Come here." He said gently, patting the space beside him. "I'll give you a back massage."
You laughed weakly under your breath. "You act like you're licensed or something."
"I basically am at this point."
Too exhausted to argue, you dropped your bag beside the couch and sank down in front of him with another sigh, muscles aching everywhere. The second you sat down, his hands were already on your shoulders, warm and firm.
"Jesus." He muttered quietly. "You're tense."
"Been on my feet all day." You mumbled.
"Poor thing." His fingers slowly kneaded into your shoulders, thumbs pressing deep enough to pull a shaky breath from your chest. You didn't even notice your eyes closing.
"Better?" He asked softly.
"Mhm..."
A tiny smile tugged at his lips when he realized how pliant you already were beneath his hands.
"Your shirt's in the way." He murmured.
Before you could answer, he gently pulled the fabric up your back, bunching it near your shoulders. Cool air brushed against your skin, exposing the pretty black bra underneath—the same lace one he'd seen tangled in your laundry that he’s pictured you wearing more times than he cared to admit.
His hands paused for half a second. Fuck.
He swallowed hard, eyes dragging across the straps hugging your skin before he clicked his tongue softly. "I think we have a problem."
You cracked one eye open, glancing back at him lazily. "And what would that be?"
"The shirt keeps falling back down." His voice was almost too casual. "Do you mind if I just take it off?"
Like it was the most normal question in the world, like asking his best friend to remove her clothes was completely harmless.
You were too exhausted to think twice about it.
"I don't care." You sighed, waving your hand dismissively. "Just hurry up and fix my back so I can pass out."
The grin he tried to suppress was dangerous. “Your wish is my command.”
Slowly, he lifted your work shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the couch. The sight nearly made him groan out loud now that your bare back was fully exposed to him, the lace band of your bra hugging you so perfectly it made his brain short circuit.
He placed his hands back onto your shoulders quickly before you noticed the way he stared.
"Fuck." He breathed under his breath. "You're really tight..."
You let out the softest sigh when his thumbs pressed harder into your muscles. "Am I?"
"Mhm." His voice came out lower now, rougher. "You've been carrying too much tension."
"Then fix it for me."
Heat climbed straight up his neck, his jaw tightening while his hands worked slower down your back. He told himself to focus, just the massage, just helping you relax. But every reaction you gave him made it impossible.
Every little sigh, every tiny arch of your back, every time your body melted further into his touch.
His palms dragged along the curve of your waist before moving lower, pressing into the sore muscles right above your ass. A breathy sound escaped you instantly.
"Yeah." He murmured quietly, leaning closer without thinking. "Right there?"
"Mhm..." Your head tipped back slightly. "Feels so good..."
He nearly lost his mind hearing that. To you, it was innocent—your best friend helping after a long day.
To him, it was torture. Because all he could think about was how easily your body responded to him, how pretty you sounded from just his hands alone, how badly he wanted to hear worse.
His fingers slid upward again, slower this time, gliding from your lower back to your waist. Not technically part of the massage anymore, but you didn't stop him.
You actually leaned back against him instead, your head resting against his shoulder while a sleepy hum left your lips.
Jisung froze for a second. Then his chin slowly settled near your shoulder, close enough to smell your shampoo, close enough that his lips barely brushed your neck whenever he breathed.
You didn't even notice, or maybe you did. That thought alone made his grip tighten slightly against your waist.
Neither of you spoke, the apartment was completely quiet except for your soft breathing and the subtle sound of his hands moving against your skin.
His thumbs pressed into your sides again before slowly, almost absentmindedly, his hand slid higher, then higher. Until his palm brushed the side of your breast.
You shifted slightly but didn't react, too relaxed to process it yet.
His heart slammed against his ribs, he should stop, like… seriously stop. But instead, his fingers flexed instinctively, gripping your boob fully for one dangerous second, giving the gentlest squeeze.
"Um... Ji?"
Your voice finally snapped him back to reality.
He pulled away immediately, blinking once like he'd just woken up. "Yeah?"
You sat up slowly, reaching for your shirt off the couch. "I should probably shower and go to bed." You mumbled quietly. "I'm exhausted."
For a split second, disappointment flashed across his face before he covered it with an easy smile. "Of course." He leaned back casually like nothing happened. "Let me know if you need another massage sometime."
You nodded distractedly, pulling your shirt back on before heading toward your room.
But right before disappearing down the hallway, you glanced back and immediately noticed two things.
The way his eyes dragged over your body one last time.
And the painfully obvious bulge straining beneath his gray sweatpants, a dark damp spot spreading slightly through the fabric while he sat there pretending not to notice.
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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who sat silently losing his mind the entire night because you were paying way too much attention to your other friend.
Every laugh you gave him, every little shove against his shoulder, every blush. It made something ugly twist in Jisung's stomach.
Usually, when all of you hung out together, he could keep you close easily. An arm around the back of your chair, stealing your fries, complaining dramatically until you sat beside him. You always gravitated back toward him eventually.
But tonight? Tonight he felt like a third wheel watching someone slowly steal your attention right in front of him.
And he hated it.
Especially during dinner. Your friend had leaned closer across the table with that smug grin and made some stupid sexual innuendo and you blushed…blushed.
Jisung nearly snapped his utensil in half.
No fucking way, no way you blushed for him.
Not when Jisung knew you better than anyone else. Knew how you took your coffee, knew what side you slept on, knew exactly how your face looked when you were tired or upset or needy for attention.
And that guy thought he had a chance? Please.
Jisung could already tell the type—cocky, flirty. Probably thought making you laugh was enough to get you into bed.
Meanwhile Jisung spent every single day restraining himself from ruining your life.
You probably didn't even realize how much power you had over him.
The movies afterward were somehow worse.
Because the second tickets were scanned, your friend was already trying to pull you toward him.
"Sit next to me." He urged casually.
Before you could answer, Jisung immediately spoke."Y/n."
You turned toward him instantly.
His lips pressed into the tiniest pout, eyes softer than usual. "You know how I am with horror movies."
You blinked. "Ji..."
"Could you sit next to me?"
Manipulative? Absolutely. Did he care? Not even a little.
The second you smiled and nodded, satisfaction sat warmly in his chest. You settled into the theater seats, you in the middle, your friend on one side and Jisung on the other. The lights dimmed quickly after that, the screen flickering to life.
At first, Jisung behaved…mostly.
A jumpscare flashed across the screen and his hand instinctively found your arm, rubbing gently.
You laughed quietly. "You're so dramatic."
"This is scary." He mumbled, leaning closer until his lips were near your ear.
You could feel the warmth of his breath. "Don't be such a scaredy cat."
"Then hold me." His fingers slid slowly down your arm as he spoke, lazy and lingering instead of playful.
You glanced toward your other friend for half a second, but before you could say anything, Jisung's hand slipped into yours. His fingers interlocked tightly with yours like he belonged there, like he had every right to touch you.
His thumb stroked slowly over your knuckles while he watched the movie completely unfocused.
Truthfully, he barely even knew what was happening on screen anymore. All he could think about was the fact your hand fit perfectly in his.
Then another jumpscare hit. "Fuck." He breathed, pulling away from your hand only to grab your knee instead. His fingers squeezed firmly through your jeans.
"It's okay, Ji." You whispered with a smile. "Relax."
His eyes slid towards you in the dark theater.
"I'm very relaxed."
The way he said it made heat creep up your neck, especially when his hand didn't move. If anything, it only got worse. His palm kept rubbing slowly over your knee, thumb dragging in absent circles while he leaned closer and closer into your space. Every touch felt deliberate now, possessive. Like he was reminding both you and the guy beside you exactly who you belonged beside.
Your friend noticed too—Jisung could feel it, but he didn't stop. Instead, his hand slid higher slowly, over your thigh now.
The movement was subtle enough that anyone else wouldn't notice, but you felt every inch of it. The weight of his hand, the heat of his palm through the fabric. The way his fingers flexed slightly whenever you reacted.
And the worst part?
He noticed every reaction. The tiny shift in your breathing, the way your thighs instinctively pressed together, the little tense swallow you tried to hide.
A quiet chuckle left his mouth. His fingers moved inward just slightly, spreading your thighs apart barely enough to make your pulse jump.
You grabbed his wrist immediately, your head whipping toward him, voice barely above a whisper.
"Not here."
The words left your mouth too fast, too instinctively. And the second you realized what you'd actually implied, your eyes widened slightly.
Jisung noticed immediately. That dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes at once, slow amusement appearing onto his lips. Not here. Meaning somewhere else?
You scrambled instantly. "I mean— don't." You whispered quickly. "We're with people, Ji. They'll get the wrong idea."
He stared at you for a second too long, then slowly nodded.
"Alright."
But the smug little smile on his face said he knew exactly what you really meant.
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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who suggested you guys match for a costume party you were going to. He was very specific that he wanted to do a cop and inmate.
He came out the room dressed in his orange jumpsuit, costume already half unzipped revealing the white tank top clinging to his chest.
"Who knew you looked good in that much orange?" You said with a smile.
"And who knew you looked good in a police outfit." He said looking you up and down, but then his eyes paused on your waistband, staring at the handcuffs attached.
He cleared his throat, gaze returning on you. "I think I did something bad." He said, holding his wrist up. "Arrest me."
You smiled, looking at him. "How many shots have you had?"
"Two." He said, bring his wrist closer to you. "Arrest me."
You sighed, before getting them from your waistband, placing them on his wrist. "There." You said, clicking the cuffs shut. "You're officially under arrest."
Jisung chuckled, but his laugh faltered when you tugged on the chain, forcing him to step closer. His eyes flicked down to the cuffs, then back up at you in your snug police outfit, lips parting slightly.
"You're not gonna read me my rights?" He teased.
You smiled, closing them tighter around his wrist. "Here's a starter. You have the right to remain silent."
He looked down at you. "What if I dont?"
You tilted your head, tugging the chain again until your bodies brushed. "Then maybe I have to search you next."
That's when you noticed it— his little shift, the way his thighs pressed together like he was trying to hide something. You glanced down, and sure enough, the fabric of the jumpsuit was tenting.
"I think I'm gonna go to the kitchen now... you know, to write a report." You said, turning for the door. "Just be a good prisoner and stay."
He licked his lips nervously and shrugged, the cuffs rattling as he moved. "I will. Can you just shut the door, I have to use the restroom."
You nodded, shutting the door.
When you went back to the bathroom, the door was still shut. You were about to knock but then you heard a low gruttal: "Fuck."
You paused, putting your ear to the door. All you heard was short gasp, and muffled groans.
Is he...
"Fuck, I'm gonna."
You heard everything, too clearly. His hand moving quickly, the wet sounds, the sound of the handcuffs moving, the choked moans escaping his mouth that he tried to hold in, but failed.
But soon everything went silent and then you heard water running, as he let out curses. You knocked and the water stopped as he opened the door, a guilty look on his face before he forced a smile. You stepped inside before going to the toilet, looking inside.
"What are you doing?" He chuckled.
"I didn't hear the toilet flush. And I was standing at the door for a pretty long time." You said, turning back to him.
He froze, his gaze stone on the sink. Only one handcuffed remained on his wrist, and his costumed was soaked in water, even though deeper, heavier stains remained.
"So what did you hear?" He questioned, turning to you, something different glinting in his eyes.
You held his gaze. "Not the toilet." You said, studying his costume, eyeing a stain he missed.
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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who just wanted one easy night with you. No crowded parties, no random friends barging into the apartment. Just drinks, movies, and you curled up beside him on the couch like always.
It started innocent enough.
The living room lights were dim, some stupid movie playing in the background while empty snack wrappers slowly piled across the coffee table. Both of you were buzzed enough to be loose and giggly, conversations all over the place without either of you really thinking before speaking. You don't know the conversation shifted to your sex lives, but here you were laughing about hookups and past relationships you never really gotten the full back story on.
Jisung should’ve known the alcohol would make you too honest. He was grinning beside you, elbow pressed against yours while listening way too closely to every detail.
You casually brought up the guy you've been hooking up recently. I mean, why not? You were already on the subject. But Jisung’s smile faded almost instantly, not fully, just enough.
“Oh yeah?” He asked, taking a slow sip of his drink. “That still happening?”
“Mhm.” You shrugged. “Sometimes.”
His eyes flickered over you lazily, dragging from your face down to your legs stretched across the couch before he leaned back “That’s interesting.”
You narrowed your eyes immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jisung let out a laugh, eyeing you down. "You've never come home looking disheveled, or with a single hickey...ever"
Heat crept into your face immediately because annoyingly enough—he was right. You scoffed, trying to laugh it off. "I never see you come home with girls." You said defensively.
"And that's my choice." He answered instantly.
His tone made you pause. He looked relaxed sprawled across the couch, but his eyes stayed fixed on you in a way that suddenly made the room feel warmer.
“But if I did.” He continued slowly. “They’d probably look a lot more satisfied than you do.”
You sat up a little, facing him fully now. "You know what Ji, you're not as good as you think.”
His brows lifted. “Oh?”
You let out a short laugh. “You've probably never made a girl finish, like ever."
He laughed hard at that, head tipping back against the couch. "Are you projecting because you've never finished?"
Your face immediately warmed. “I’m not projecting.”
He let out a suspicious hum.
“I’m serious!” You exclaimed.
“Okay.” He smirked into his glass. “Then why are you getting defensive?”
You rolled your eyes. “Because you sound cocky.”
“I am cocky.” He shrugged.
“That’s embarrassing.”
“No.” He corrected calmly. “What’s embarrassing is hooking up with someone consistently and still not enjoying yourself.”
You opened your mouth immediately, but nothing came out.
“I just know I could do better.” He said casually.
You let out a loud laugh this time. “Please. You're lying to my face."
He leaned forward, setting his drink down onto the coffee table carefully. “I could use my fingers alone.” He said slowly. “And you’d be more satisfied than you are right now.”
You scoffed to cover the twist in your stomach up. “You sound ridiculous.”
“And you sound curious.” He said.
“I am not curious.”
“Really?” His lips curled slightly. “Because you keep arguing instead of disagreeing. We could really prove it right now.”
You hated how good he was at that. At getting under your skin just enough to make you react exactly how he wanted.
"There's no way to prove it." You said straight to the point, mirroring him and taking a sip from your own drink.
That little gleam appeared in his eyes—the one that always showed up right before he said something that most definitely passed friendship boundaries.
“You know.” He said casually. “There is technically a way to prove it.” He slid one hand onto your knee like it belonged there.
You already knew exactly where this conversation was heading long before he said it and you hadn’t stopped it once.
"You're disgusting." You said.
He shrugged. "Yeah, but I’m probably right."
Your pulse jumped when his thumb stroked once against your knee. “Probably the reason you’re so defensive right now.” He added softly. “You’re frustrated.”
He picked his glass back up, taking another slow sip while maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. And then you noticed it, his fingers—his index and middle finger rubbing slowly along the rim of the glass, back and forth, slow circles. He leaned back against the couch again, expression annoyingly relaxed while his hand stayed resting on your leg. “Your call.” He murmured. “I’m just trying to help my best friend out.”
You almost laughed at how fake innocent he sounded. Because there was absolutely nothing friendly about the way he was looking at you right now. Like he’d already imagined this a thousand times, like he already knew exactly how he wanted you to sound beneath him. Yes, he does want you to be happy and satisfied. But he has dreamed of getting you off since you first got close, seeing your face when you came on his fingers, the look in your eyes. He could make you feel so good if you just let him, all you had to do was say yes.
You sighed, pointing a warning finger at him. "If I don't finish, I'm moving out. And I'm being so serious."
Jisung stared at you for half a second, then slowly smiled. “Good thing.” He said quietly, sliding his drink onto the table. “I know I will.”
And he wasn't lying. He didn't hesitate or even go slow—he was determined, relentless. His fingers drove into you with a brutal rhythm, the wet squelch of your arousal filling the room. Every thrust of his fingers pushed deeper, curling just enough to scrape against that sweet, sensitive spot inside you that made your vision blur.
"Oh fuck, Jisung." The words tumbled out of you in a broken whimper.
He licked a slow, hot line up the side of your neck, stopping at your ear. His free hand came up to grip your chin, fingers digging into your jaw as he forced your head back. "Yeah, you like that, don't you?" His voice was low, smug, dripping with satisfaction. "You feel that? How tight you're gripping me? Fuck, you're so wet for it."
Your fingers twisted into his hair, yanking him closer as his mouth descended to your neck. He found one of the few patches of skin still unmarked and latched on, sucking hard enough to bruise. His tongue swirled, teeth grazing, then he bit down just enough to make you gasp. A fresh, swollen mark bloomed under his lips.
"Y-you're gonna make me—" You couldn't finish. The coil in your belly was tightening, winding impossibly tight, heat pooling low in your core.
"I know." He cut you off, voice rough against your throat. "You're about to cum, aren't you? I can feel it." He curved his fingers at just the right angle, pressing up into that desperate spot. Your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent cry. "Yeah, there it is. That's it, let it out for me."
You nodded frantically, words useless, your back arching off the couch. Your thighs quivered, clenching around his long, slender fingers as your orgasm crashed through you. Your inner walls pulsed around him, milking his hand as he kept pumping, slow and deep now, drawing out every last feeling.
He didn't stop until you fell limp against the couch cushions, breathless, your grip on his hair going slack. Only then did he slide his fingers out slowly, and brought them to his lips—sucking them clean with a low, satisfied hum.
"Better than your little hookup, I'd guess." He said with a smug grin, his eyes dark with lust.
You couldn't even muster up the energy to glare at him, still reeling from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. "Shut up." You mumbled weakly.
He chuckled. "I'm just glad I could help my best friend out. That's what friends are for, right?"
a/n- hi, I’m back.. again. Miss me? I’m clearing my drafts loll, hope you like this, and love yall !
You and Haechan have been study partners for months now, sitting through late night sessions for your shared psych class. Tonight though, you showed up with a six pack of hard seltzers, insisting that a little alcohol 'boosted' the brain—you read it somewhere, so it had to be true.
"It loosens up the neurons or whatever." You smiled, popping open the first can.
Haechan, the pushover he was, nodded along, too awkward to argue. Now, two hours and several drinks in, your laughter was easier, words slurring just a bit as you hunched over flashcards.
Haechan fidgeted on the couch, his frame squeezed into one corner while you sprawled out beside him, your knee brushing his thigh every time you shifted. You were always casual like that—touchy without thinking, your hand landing on his arm mid sentence, foot nudging his under the coffee table, but tonight it felt different.
You reached for another flashcard, your fingers grazing the inside of his wrist, lingering a second too long. He froze, a flush creeping up his neck as he tugged at the hem of his hoodie, eyes darting to the floor.
You paused, card halfway off the coffee table.
You tilted your head, watching him squirm. "You okay there, Hae? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Your voice carried that playful tone like always, but your eyes focused, catching the way his legs pressed together.
Oh... a slow smile tugged at your lips. You always took him as the shy type— the loser who tripped over his own feet, whining about exams and dodging parties. But this? This was new, intriguing.
He mumbled something incoherent, rubbing his wrist where your touch had been.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... ticklish, I guess." He said, voice cracking.
Your smile widened. You set the flashcard down and leaned in closer, your shoulder bumping his on 'accident.'
"Ticklish, huh? Where else?" Before he could answer, your hand dropped to his knee, squeezing lightly through his jeans.
His eyes widened, his body going rigid. "Y/n, what—"
"Sshh." You whispered, your fingers tracing lazy circles up his thigh.
You watched his face—the way his lips parted, breath coming in short pants. "You're blushing so hard. Does this bother you? I can stop..."
But you didn't. Instead, you slid your hand higher, pressing your palm flat against the growing bulge in his pants.
"P-please... I mean, no, don't— I don't know." He was a mess already, shifting in his seat but not pulling away, his hands clenched in his lap like he was fighting himself.
You laughed softly. "Look at you, all worked up from a little touch. Bet you've been jerking off thinking about stuff like this, haven't you? Sitting here, pretending to study while I drive you crazy." You unzipped his pants slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room.
His underwear was strained against the hardness beneath, the thin fabric damp at the front from his arousal. Haechan groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Y/n, oh god, this is embarrassing—everyone thinks I'm such a loser. Please, don't make fun."
But you did, leaning in to nip at his earlobe. "That's what makes it fun. You're a little loser, whining and begging." You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down just enough to free his cock, hard and twitching against his stomach, pre cum already beading at the tip and soaking into the edge of the fabric still bunched around his hips.
Your hand wrapped around his shaft firmly, stroking slowly. He bucked into your grip, a pathetic whimper escaping his throat. "F-fuck, that feels good. Faster, please?
He was trembling, hips jerking erratically as you pumped, your thumb circling the head to smear the slickness down his length. Your free hand pushed his hoodie up, exposing his pale chest, and you dragged your nails lightly across his skin, watching goosebumps rise.
"You're leaking so much already. Such a desperate boy."
He nodded frantically, eyes squeezing shut. "Yes, I'm desperate. I'm desperate for you. Please, y/n, don't stop— I need it." His whines grew louder, more broken as your pace quickened, twisting your wrist on each stroke. You pressed your thigh between his legs, forcing them wider, his body arching as the pressure built.
"Gonna... gonna cum soon. Can I? Please let me." He was begging now, voice cracking with every word.
You smirked at his pathetic begging, you loved how much power you had over him. "Such a needy little slut." You said, stroking him even faster. "Begging me to let you cum. Do you really want it that badly?"
"Yes, please." He gasped, his hips bucking. "I'll do anything, just please let me cum. I'm so close, Y/n."
"Anything?" You asked, raising an eyebrow. "You'd do anything I say?"
"Yes." He whimpered, his face flushed. "I don't care, I just want to cum so badly. Please Y/n, I'm begging you."
His body was trembling towards your touch. "Beg me harder." You commanded, your grip on him tightening. "Beg for my permission to cum, cry for it."
He let out a broken whimper, eyes watering. "Please Y/n, please let me cum. I can't take it anymore, I'm so desperate. I'll do anything, fucking anything."
You smirked, stroking him faster. "That's it, beg for me like the needy whore you are. Show me how bad you want it."
He dissolved into a mess of sobs and pleas, his body squirming in his seat. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He whimpered, cursing through gritted teeth. "Please, I can't hold back anymore, I need to cum so fucking bad."
The sight of him, broken and begging for your permission turned you on so much. You felt a rush of power knowing that you had complete control over his pleasure.
"Please." He wailed, tears streaming down his face. "Please let me cum, I can't take it anymore. I'll do anything, I'll be your whore, just please let me cum."
"Alright then, cum for me like a good boy." You said, stroking faster.
He let out a choked gasp, his cock pulsing and twitching in your hand as he shot ropes of cum all over his stomach and your hand. His whole body shook with the force of his orgasm, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moaned and whimpered.
You continued to stroke him through it, wringing out every last drop until he was sobbing and oversensitive, wiping your messy hand on his shirt when you finally released him. Watching with satisfaction as he collapsed back on the couch, chest heaving and covered in cum.
"Thank you, Y/n." He said, looking at you with tear stained cheeks and a look of utter pleasure and satisfaction. "That was... nice. I've never felt anything like that before."
a/n- hi, my loves! It’s been a while, but mama is back. This is just something short, but I promise I have a full length fic coming soon, maybe more if y’all want another toxic fic—plz lmk! Hope you enjoy, love you all <3
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You never thought you'd see him again.
The music in the apartment was loud enough that you could feel it in your ribs before you could really hear it. Someone had the bass turned up way too high, the floor vibrating under your shoes while people packed into every corner of the place. You hadn't even wanted to come, but your friend insisted it would be "fun" and now you were wedged between strangers laughing too loudly over a kitchen island, but when you looked up there he was.
Jaemin
Leaning back against the wall like he'd been standing there the whole time. One arm resting casually behind him, black jacket pushed up his forearms, dark hair falling messily across his forehead like he'd been running his hand through it all night. He looked almost exactly the same.
Except the moment his eyes landed on you, everything changed.
For a few seconds, neither of you moved. You just stared at each other from across the room, the distance filled with strangers who had no idea they were standing in the middle of something that had exploded months ago.
You hadn't seen him since the fight, not once, not by accident, not in passing, nothing. It had ended badly—worse than badly, honestly. The kind of argument where by the end of it, both of you were too angry and too hurt to even look at each other.
And now he was here.
Your fingers tightened around the plastic cup in your hand.
Jaemin didn't look away, his eyes stayed locked on yours, like he was trying to figure out if you were really there or if you were just another face in the crowd.
God, that expression used to drive you insane.
Nope… absolutely not.
You turned away immediately, setting your drink down harder than necessary and pushing through the crowd before your brain could talk you out of it. Someone called your name, but you didn't answer. The only thing on your mind was getting out of there before he decided to walk over and start something.
The hallway outside the apartment felt almost eerily quiet compared to the noise inside. For a second you just stood there breathing, trying to calm the weird mix of irritation and nerves under your skin.
You pressed the elevator button…once, twice.
"Come on..." You muttered under your breath.
A few seconds later, the elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open. You stepped inside, already digging your phone out of your pocket.
And then a hand slammed against the door.
The elevator beeped and reopened. You didn't even have to look up to know who it was.
He stepped inside, the space suddenly felt way smaller than it actually was. Neither of you spoke as the doors slid shut behind him.
You kept your eyes on the glowing numbers above the door, arms crossed tightly across your chest like that might somehow create a barrier between the two of you. But even without looking, you could feel him there, standing just a couple feet away. His presence was frustratingly familiar, the faint scent of his cologne, the quiet sound of his breathing.
God, this was awkward.
The elevator hummed as it started to descend.
Then he let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.
"Wow." He said, his voice filled with dry sarcasm. "Of all the places I expected to run into you tonight."
You rolled your eyes, still staring straight ahead. "Trust me, this wasn't exactly on my to-do list."
Silence again, you could practically feel him looking at you now.
Then the elevator jolted, hard. The lights flickered, the movement stopped abruptly, and the entire thing went still with a low mechanical noise.
"Fucking hell." You cursed, hitting the emergency button a little harder than necessary, explaining what happened
A voice came through the speaker. “We’ll try to get this repaired as fast as possible, most likely in 15-20 minutes.”
Great, just great.
Jaemin let out a short laugh that sounded more irritated than amused. "You can't make this up."
You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes for a second, trying to ignore the fact that the last person on earth you wanted to be trapped in a metal box with was currently standing three feet away from you.
He shifted beside you, clearly just as annoyed, a minute passed… then another. And finally he spoke.
"You know." He said slowly. "It's kind of funny."
You opened one eye. "What?"
"That the first time we see each other after months..." He gestured vaguely at the elevator walls. "We end up stuck in here together."
You scoffed. "Yeah, hilarious."
Another pause, but then his tone changed slightly. "...You left pretty fast back there."
You frowned and turned your head toward him. "Excuse me?"
He let out a small chuckle. "You saw me and immediately bolted."
"I didn't bolt."
He shrugged. "You practically sprinted."
"I walked out."
Jaemin raised an eyebrow. "Right. Very calm and casual."
Your irritation flared up, he’s so annoying. "Maybe I didn't feel like dealing with you tonight."
"Oh, dealing with me?" He repeated, incredulous. "That's rich."
Your eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He pushed himself off the wall, standing a little straighter now.
"It means you don't get to act like I'm the problem after the way things ended."
You shook your head. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're avoiding the point."
"Oh, I'm avoiding the point?" You shot back. "Last time I checked, you were the one yelling at me like I ruined your life."
"Because you hurt me." He said immediately.
The words came out faster than he probably meant them to. You blinked, caught off guard for half a second before the defensive wall slammed right back into place.
You scoffed. "Like you didn't do the exact same thing to me."
He stared at you, something tense flickering across his face. "Maybe because you never actually admitted you were wrong."
"Oh my god." You muttered, shaking your head. "You're still doing it."
"Doing what?" He questioned.
"Acting like you're the victim in all of this."
Jaemin scoffed under his breath. "You know what? Forget it."
But he didn't step away. If anything, he moved a little closer. The small elevator suddenly felt even smaller.
"You always do this." He said, quieter now, but still tense. "You say something that gets under my skin, then you act like I'm crazy for reacting."
"And you always think you're right." You shot back. "God, that drove me insane."
"Yeah?" He said, tilting his head slightly. "Funny. You didn't seem to mind it when we were together. You remember that, right?" He continued, his voice dropping slightly. "We actually liked each other once."
You glared at him. "Don't start."
"I'm just saying." He shrugged.
"You're being annoying."
"You're being defensive."
You shoved his shoulder. "Maybe because you won't stop talking."
His hand caught your wrist before you could pull back. The sudden contact made both of you freeze, but neither of you moved.
His fingers were warm around your wrist, his grip firm, but not tight. His eyes dropped briefly to where he was holding you before lifting back to your face.
The anger between you didn't disappear, but you could tell something else slipped into the space alongside it.
"You still do that." He muttered.
You frowned slightly. "Do what?"
"Get mad when you don't know what to say."
You looked into his eyes. "I know exactly what to say."
"Yeah?" He said quietly. “So say it.”
Your heart was pounding now, and you hated how aware you suddenly were of how close he was. His thumb brushed slightly against your wrist without him seeming to notice.
"You're still stubborn." He said.
"You're still irritating."
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "There it is."
You narrowed your eyes. "What?"
"That look you get when you're about to argue with me for another twenty minutes, or... something else."
You tried to pull your wrist back, but his grip tightened just slightly.
"Jae—"
"Be honest." He interrupted quietly. "You really didn't feel anything when you saw me tonight?"
You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. His eyes softened for half a second before he huffed out a quiet laugh.
"Yeah." He murmured. "That's what I thought."
Your heart was beating way too fast now.
"You're so full of yourself." You muttered, but it came out weaker than you intended.
He stepped closer, now there was barely any space between you.
"You're the one who ran." He said softly.
"I didn't run."
He smiled. "You ran."
"I walked away."
He shrugged. "Same thing."
"God, you're annoying." You said, rolling your eyes.
"And you're still here arguing with me."
You stared at him, and he stared right back.
Your faces were inches apart now. "You gonna push me away again?" He murmured.
Your fingers curled into the front of his jacket before you could think about it, and then you pulled him down and kissed him, your frustration crashing. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer like he'd been waiting for it, and you kissed him just as fiercely.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing harder. He rested his forehead lightly against yours, letting out a quiet laugh under his breath.
"...Yeah." He muttered.
Your voice cracked slightly. "What?"
He let out an airy laugh. "We're bad at breaking up."
And despite everything, you couldn't help the small breathless laugh that slipped out of you.
He pulled you back into a rough, desperate kiss as he slammed your back against the elevator wall. The metal was cold against your shoulders but you barely noticed, too caught up in the heat of him. He bit at your bottom lip, making you gasp.
"You taste the same." He mumbled against your mouth, pressing his hips into yours.
You bucked against him. "You feel the same." You said breathlessly, pushing him back a little to take off his shirt, but he stopped you.
“Baby, we’re still in public.”
You let out a quick sigh. “When’d you get so boring?”
He chuckled as he stepped closer to you again, lips brushing yours. His fingers dug into your hips as he found the zipper of your jeans, unzipping them roughly and shoving his hand inside.
“You’re wet already." He said, placing a kiss on your neck.
You moaned into his mouth, head falling back as his fingers stroked you roughly. "You like that?"
"Fuck yeah..." He breathed against your neck, licking and biting at the skin there. "I missed this."
You gripped his hair, pulling his head back to look at him. "Don't make me regret it..." You warned, even as you thrust into his hand desperately.
He chuckled. "Or what?" He muttered, curling his fingers around your neck, pulling you closer. "Not gonna stop me..."
"Try me..." You said, voice clipped from his grip, but he just grinned, slowly unbuckling his belt with slowness.
Your eyes followed his every movement as he unzipped himself, pulling out his dick, stroking it slowly.
You undid your jeans fully, shoving them down along with your underwear. You turned around, bracing your hands on the wall.
"Fucking hell..." He groaned again, coming up behind you. He rubbed himself against you, making you shudder. "Look at you all ready for me, been so long."
"Missed me?" You teased breathlessly. He grunted in response, grabbing your hips and pulling them back against him.
"Gonna remind you what I do to that pretty pussy of yours..." He grunted. "Not gonna be gentle either..." You wanted that so bad. Wanting him inside you and ruining you all over again.
"Please..." You whimpered shamelessly. "I need it... need you..."
He chuckled. "Beg for it then."
You bit your lip, words tumbling out of you in a rush. "Fuck me Jaemin... please fuck me. Want to feel you inside me, please."
"Listen to you, so desperate for me." He pressed against your entrance and you pushed back against him, trying to take him in, then he pushed forward roughly.
"Oh fuck." You cried out.
He was big and it hurt so good, stretching you in that intoxicating way he always did. He started moving immediately, hips snapping into yours without restraint.
"You like that?" He groaned. "Like taking me like this?"
"Fuck yeah." You moaned brokenly. "Harder, please."
He complied immediately, pounding into you with force. The elevator shook with each harsh thrust, both of you moaning and cursing. His hips made slapping noises against your ass as he took what he wanted from you.
“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna—” He groaned loudly, speeding up his thrusts as his release approached. You felt yourself tightening around him, own climax just out of reach.
"Cum for me baby, cum on me." He mumbled.
Those filthy words pushed you over the edge, crying out as your orgasm crashed over you.
You clenched around him, milking him for everything he had. He came with a guttural whimper a moment later, spilling inside you.
He collapsed against your back, both of you breathing harshly. "Holy fuck..." He panted after a moment. You just laughed breathlessly in response.
Suddenly, the elevator started to move again. You pulled apart reluctantly, fixing your clothes quickly before the elevator dinged and opened.
"Are you coming home?" You said with a smirk as you stepped out into the night.
"I think I will." He replied with a smile.
And with that, you walked off into the night together, ready for anything that came next.
may have been late and idk if you will see this but regardless. your exes to lovers haechan fic made me sob so hard, like it's so beautiful. maybe because I'm in a low-key similar predicament but it changed something in my brain fr. thank you for writing it ❤️
Omg.. this literally has me in tears. Thank you so much, I’m so glad you could relate and enjoy it!
Hellaurr!! I saw u followed me back n I js wanna say I LOVEEEE ur work like 🤭🤭🤭 sooo I wanna ask if you'd wanna be moots!! It's ok if u refuse obvi ^_^
Seeing this just now for some reason.. BUT TYSM! And ofc, I would love to be moots <3!
write my wrongs: haechan's ending (bonus chapter) II L.HC
Read: write my wrongs → Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2
W/c- 570
Now playing: Die with a smile- Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars
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I stayed on the rooftop after everyone went downstairs, just standing there like an idiot with the ring box still open in my hand. The city was loud, but everything in me was quiet — like the world finally stopped spinning long enough for me to breathe.
I kept replaying it... you.
Saying yes.
I don't think I'll ever forget the look on your face when you turned around and saw me kneeling there. Or the way my hands were shaking so hard I thought I'd drop the damn ring. Or how you laughed and cried at the same time— like you couldn't believe it either.
Honestly, I still can't.
There was a time I thought I lost you for good, and I deserved that. I hurt you. I broke something I never should've touched.
I remember those years without you— pretending I moved on, pretending I didn't still hear your laugh in every quiet room. I used to lie awake wondering how I ever let you walk away, wondering why I thought I could live with that.
And then... somehow... we found our way back. Like the universe decided I wasn't done loving you yet.
When you came to my housewarming party, wearing my old shirt later that night, I swear something in my chest just... clicked. I didn't say anything then, but that was the first time I thought: Maybe I'm allowed to hope again.
And then a year later— the wedding.
Just thinking about it still hits me in the chest. The moment the doors opened and you walked down the aisle, everything else just blurred out. Your dress, your smile, the way you kept trying not to cry... god, I almost lost it.
I kept telling myself, don't cry, you idiot, the pictures— think about the pictures, but the second your hand slipped into mine, I broke.
When I heard: "Do you take him as your Husband?" You didn't even hesitate.
Your voice was soft, steady, certain.
"I do."
When it was my turn, I felt my throat tighten so hard I almost couldn't speak, but I said it anyways— louder than I meant to.
I do.
And you laughed under your breath, like you always do when I'm nervous and trying too hard. That laugh... that laugh told me everything: that we made it and that the past was behind us.
And when I kissed you, our first kiss as husband and wife, it didn't feel like a beginning or an ending. It felt like coming home.
Sometimes I still think about that moment, how your hands trembled just a little when you cupped my face.
You chose me again. And I'm not taking a single second of this for granted, not one.
I know what it feels like to lose you, I know what it feels like to love you, and I'm choosing the second every time, every day, for the rest of my life.
I heard something from downstairs, Chenle screaming: "Get your ass down here, Haechan!"
And I almost didn't, holding onto our wedding photo framed on our nightstand, reminiscing the night. But then I realized, I had it for real in person. A living, vivid memory of that night.
So yeah...
I'm going downstairs now.
Back to you— my wife, my forever.
And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret giving me this second chance.
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a/n: Hi guys! I guess these little epilogues are my thing now lol, so I hope you like them. Unfortunately… your girl has a double major and a minor, so, with that being said— this is my final post until summer :(
Thank you so much for reading, and I seriously hope you enjoyed this— please let me know your thoughts. With that… goodbye. Mwah mwah 💋<333
ᝰ✍︎ ex!haechan x fem!reader (ft. some of the dreamies +random made up side character)
ᝰ✍︎ Prolouge | Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus Chapter: Haechan’s Ending
ᝰ✍︎ synopsis- He cheated, and it hurt- badly. You walked away, convinced you'd never look back. But now, after five years of silence, you're working together again. The air is filled with things left unsaid, and the memories you buried refuse to stay quiet. You tell yourself you've moved on— that what you feel is nothing but ghosts of what once was. But every glance lingers too long, every accidental touch feels too familiar, and you can't help but wonder: can something once broken ever truly be whole again?
ᝰ✍︎ genre- work au, slow burn, second chance romance, smut 18+, angst, humor, slight fluff.
ᝰ✍︎ warnings- mentions of cheating, arguing.
ᝰ✍︎ w/c- 11.8k
Now playing: I Want You- Mitski, Give You the World- Steve Lacy, Blesses- Daniel Caesar, Runaway- Kanye Weat, Gonna Love Me- Teyana Taylor, Lover, You Should’ve Come Over- Jeff Buckley, Lovesong- Beadadoobee
a/n- part 2 is finally here. I hope you guys enjoy, and let me know what you think!
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January 1st
The day dragged. Breakfast was loud, full of Chenle's teasing and Jaemin replaying his New Year's kiss with Hana for laughs, but you felt like you were moving through water. You laughed when you had to, smiled when eyes were on you, but every time you caught even a flicker of Haechan's face across the table, the memory of last night, and his words on the porch, crashed over you.
He didn't avoid you, not the way you avoided him. He carried on, talking and joking with everyone, but there was something in the way he looked at you— every glance was another silent plea. You ignored it, clinging to small talk with Hana and Chenle as if your life depended on it.
By night, Renjun had convinced everyone outside to sit around the fire pit. The flames lit upward, sparks flying, and the six of you were bundled in hoodies and blankets, passing a bottle around as laughter filled the dark. Except you weren't laughing, not really, not like you used to.
You sat wedged between Hana and Renjun, staring into the flames, listening to Chenle's loud impressions and Hana's soft giggles. Across from you, Haechan lounged back in his chair, firelight painting his face in shifting shadows. Every now and then, when the group's laughter died down, you felt his gaze like heat against your skin.
At one point, Jaemin pointed his camera toward the fire and caught a pic— Chenle mid laugh, Renjun smirking at something smart he'd said. You were in the frame too, staring into the flames, profile caught in amber light. When you noticed, you forced a smile, but the camera was already lowered.
The night stretched. Hana's head eventually found Jaemin's shoulder. Chenle announced he was starving and was going back inside for snacks. Renjun followed, mumbling something about warming up.
You stayed, not because you wanted to, but because standing up meant walking past him.
The silence between you and Haechan was louder than the crackle of the fire. He leaned forward finally, elbows on his knees, staring straight into the flames. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the fire.
"You're really gonna pretend none of it meant anything?"
You stiffened. "I told you, drop it."
His laugh was soft, humorless. "You keep saying that like I could, like I ever could."
"Don't do this here." You whispered sharply.
"Where then?" He finally turned his head, eyes locking with yours. "When? You gonna keep running from me until what— we're strangers again?"
You swallowed hard, breaking his gaze. "That's the idea."
He let out a long breath, shaking his head. "You say that, but—"
You snapped your head back toward him. "Stop."
For a second, he looked wounded. Then he leaned back, jaw tight, eyes glinting with something between anger and heartbreak. "I'm not the only one who remembers, you do too. That's why you're so scared."
Before you could bite back, the cabin door banged open. Chenle's voice rang out, loud as ever. "Snacks are ready! Also, Renjun says the fire's making his eyes water, so y'all better come in before he starts crying."
Everyone chuckled, but you stood immediately, brushing invisible ash from your hoodie. You didn't look at Haechan as you slipped past him toward the house.
Inside, the warmth of the cabin hit you, along with Jaemin's bright grin. He opened his mouth to say something, but froze when he caught your face. His eyes flicked toward the doorway behind you, where Haechan trailed in, looking gutted.
Jaemin's smile faltered as he mouthed "you good?"
You forced a nod, eyes dropping.
The night dragged on, filled with games and chatter, but you felt frayed, unraveling by the second. Finally, when Hana had disappeared to the room and Jaemin was busy reviewing photos with Chenle, you drifted toward Renjun and Chenle on the couch.
"Hey." You said softly. "Can I... sleep with you guys tonight?"
Chenle's head snapped up, grin already forming. "Hell no, I'm not babysitting you—"
Renjun immediately shot him a look, pressing a firm hand to Chenle's chest. "Chill."
Chenle blinked, then really looked at you. The grin fell, replaced with something wary. "Wait, you okay?"
You nodded too quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just— don't wanna sleep in the room tonight."
Renjun gave a small nod. "Of course. I can sleep on the floor."
You opened your mouth to protest, but Chenle leaned back into the cushions, eyes narrowed in thought. For once, he didn't argue.
You sank down beside Chenle, pulling the blanket up, trying to hide the way your hands shook. Behind you a door shut, you didn't have to look to know whose it was.
═════════════════════════
January 2nd
The bus ride home was quiet. Not in the usual way— not the sleepy, post trip kind of quiet. This one felt strained.
Haechan sat near the back, head tipped against the window, earphones in though you doubted there was even music playing. You were up front, pressed against the cold glass, watching trees blur by.
No jokes, no bickering, not even an accidental glance. Just silence that stretched the whole ride home.
Back at your apartment, you dropped your bag onto the floor and started unpacking. The trip felt like a blur, flashes of snow, firelight, laughter— all tangled with last night.
You folded a pair of jeans, shoved toiletries back into the bathroom cabinet, then your hand brushed over fabric that wasn't yours.
A black shirt, his shirt.
You froze, holding it in your hands like it burned. You went to your living room, tossing it onto the couch, not ready to deal with it yet.
After a moment, you pulled out your phone and opened your messages.
You: can you come over?
Jaemin: otw.
Just knowing he'd be there, someone steady, someone who wouldn't pull you apart piece by piece. The knock came sooner than you expected. You rushed to the door, tugging your hoodie tighter, but when you opened it wasn't Jaemin, it was Haechan.
Your chest tightened. "What are you doing here?"
His eyes flickered past you into your apartment, then back. "You have my shirt."
You stared at him for a second, then let out a dry laugh. "I do, but this could've been an email."
Something like a smile twitched at his lips, but it wasn't real. "Well." He said quietly. "I didn't want it to be an email."
You exhaled sharply, annoyed at the ache pressing in your chest. Finally, you stepped aside. "Fine, come in."
He only crossed the doorway a few feet, hovering near the entryway.
You grabbed the shirt from the chair and shoved it towards him. "Here, bye."
He didn't move to take it immediately, just looked at you. The same way he looked at you the night everything shattered five years ago.
The silence stretched until he finally spoke. "We should talk."
You shook your head. "There's nothing to talk about. We're cool, but that's it."
His jaw tightened. "We're not just cool, we'll never be just cool. You can't avoid this— us. We work together."
"Then I'll quit."
His brows furrowed, almost panicked. "See? That's the problem. You always run away from your problems."
That made you snap. "Me? No, you always run away from them." Your voice shook, but you didn't stop. "Those nights you left me alone, wondering where you were, while you were out getting drunk without a care in the world, without a care about me."
He opened his mouth, but you cut him off.
"And then what? Getting drunk wasn't enough, so you cheated on me too. And then you came crawling back with some apology, expecting me to take you back, like I always did."
His face cracked, anger and shame tangled. "That's in the past, let it go."
You froze, then let out a bitter laugh. "Me? Me let it go?" Your voice dropped, sharp as glass. "No, you need to let it go. Let me go."
His eyes widened. "Wait— I didn't mean it like that—"
"See?" You snapped, cutting him off again. "This, this is why I'll never give you another chance. Ever."
He just stared at you, stunned, like you'd ripped the ground out from under him. The fight drained out of his face until all that was left was hurt.
Your throat ached, but your voice stayed steady. "Now, goodbye. And I won't say it again."
You pushed the shirt into his chest and he clutched it without a word.
For a long moment, he just stood there, eyes searching yours for something— anything.
But then finally, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Ten minutes later another knock came again.
You wiped at your face quickly, hoping the redness in your eyes wasn't too obvious. When you opened the door, relief hit.
"Swear I just saw Haechan." He said slowly, eyes narrowing as he studied your expression. "Was he here?"
You tried to form words, tried to force out something casual, something normal, but the second his question hung in the air, it shattered you.
Your throat tightened, vision blurring. "I—" Your voice cracked. "I love him."
The words came out raw, torn straight from your chest. You shook your head, collapsing against the doorway as the sobs broke free. "I don't wanna. I don't— I can't stop. No matter how much I want to, I can't."
Your hands pressed over your face, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn't work. Everything came pouring out— the anger, the ache, the years of hurt buried under the surface.
Jaemin froze, just standing there wide eyed, like he wasn't sure if stepping closer would help or destroy you completely. "Oh my god." He whispered under his breath, stunned.
You turned your head, still crying, shaking your head like you hated yourself for every word. "Get out." You choked. "Just— please, get out."
For a second, he didn't move. Then he gave the smallest nod. "Okay." And just like that, he walked away.
The door closed again, silence filling the apartment, broken only by the uneven rhythm of your sobs.
Your mind replayed everything.
His laugh in the hot tub, the way he'd looked at you during the countdown, his voice breaking when he begged you to stay. And before that— years before that. The nights he left you waiting up, the excuses, the heartbreak of betrayal.
You wanted to hate him, you should've hated him, but when he was in front of you, all the anger slipped, and it was like no time had passed at all. Like you'd never fallen out of love or maybe you never did.
The thought hollowed you out completely.
You leaned your head back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping hot down your cheeks.
And for the first time, you admitted it— not out loud, not to him, but to yourself.
You still loved him and you hated that you did.
═════════════════════════
It was that afternoon when you finally felt like your head had cleared. You'd been sitting on your bed, laptop open, trying to work on something new, but your mind kept drifting. You needed air, movement, something.
You checked Jaemin's location out of habit. A coffee shop one minute away.
So you texted him. Can you come back?
Read.
You sighed, dropping your phone, and sat there staring at the wall. You didn't even know what you were gonna say when he showed up— if he showed up. You started typing another message, an apology half formed on your screen, when there was a knock at the door.
You got up, heart weirdly picking up, and opened it. There he was, Jaemin. Coffee in one hand, a small paper bag in the other.
"I'm back."
You blinked at him. "Of course you are, you always are."
He smirked a little. "And you always do this."
You laughed quietly, leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah, sorry. It's never that serious, I don't know why I do that."
"Because you're dramatic." He grinned, brushing past you into the apartment.
You rolled your eyes but smiled, shutting the door. "You brought me something?"
"Pastry and caffeine, best combo."
You laughed and hugged him, just a short one, but you held on a second longer than usual. Then you both sat down on the couch, coffees in hand.
"So." He started, crossing one leg over the other. "Are we gonna address the elephant in the room?"
"Do we have to?"
"Yes, because I wanna know if you're gonna get back with him." He said it so casually, almost too cheerfully.
You raised a brow. "Wait, I thought you didn't want me to get with him."
"I was trying to be the strict, protective best friend. But come on, I know you still love him."
"How?" You frowned. "I feel like I don't make it obvious."
He gave you this look— a smirk mixed with disbelief. "That's what you think. I knew when you said that guy you used to hook up with was just a quiet version of Haechan. And when you said you didn't want a relationship with him because 'he wasn't everything you expected'." He side eyed you, grin growing. "Whatever the fuck that means."
You sighed and laughed. "Wow, my own personal digital footprint."
"Exactly."
"Plus, that was years ago. So how'd you know now?"
"The way you look at him. You never look at anyone like that, not the guy you used to talk to, not even me. And it's not that you don't love us— you just don't love us the way you love him."
You scoffed. "Yeah whatever, you don't know me."
He grinned. "What happened anyway? Like on the trip."
You sighed, leaning back. "Well, I don't know. We started talking about you and Hana's kiss, and he was saying how shocked he was or something, then he tried to accuse me of being jealous... of you."
"Me?"
"Exactly! Exactly what I said. I swear he planned this."
Jaemin tilted his head. "Maybe. I literally told him I was gonna kiss her, so I don't get why he was so shocked."
You sat up straight. "Are you fucking kidding me? So he did. He planned it, he literally plotted everything in his head to get me."
He shrugged. "Well... he got you."
You pointed at him, laughing. "Stop, no."
"Finish the story."
"So then it went down this whole thing where he said he was jealous he didn't kiss someone he loved, and I said me too." You pointed at Jaemin. "Alcohol talking, by the way."
Jaemin raised his eyebrows. "Sure."
"Then he asked who I loved, and I asked who he loved, and then yeah... he kissed me and then— yeah."
Jaemin's jaw dropped as he covered his mouth dramatically. "Damn. I knew he had game, but fuck, he's actually a genius."
You burst out laughing. "Well duh, there's a reason I dated him."
He nodded, grinning. "Continue."
"I woke up earlier than everyone, went outside to think. Then he came out there acting like nothing happened, and I don't know, it just set me off. So we kinda argued— me being angry, him confessing, begging to get back together, it just freaked me out. I was still processing, and he just came in so abruptly, like it was all about him again. I told him to let it go. So yeah, we haven't talked since. Then earlier, after I texted you, he showed up saying I had his shirt."
Jaemin raised a brow. "Did you?"
You sighed. "Yeah, slept in it that night cause Chenle forgot to turn on the dryer."
He tilted his head. "Yeah... 'forgot.'"
You looked at him, brow raised. "We'll get back to that in a second."
He smirked. "Continue."
"So I told him yeah, I had it, handed it over, said bye. Then he paused and was like 'we should talk.' And it's funny— that same exact thing happened the night he cheated, but he just left instead. I guess he was trying to show growth or something, I don't even know. I told him there's nothing to talk about, and we're cool but that's it. Then he went on this whole thing again, overwhelming me before I could think, and we argued. I brought up his behavior from our relationship, and he told me to get over it. So I told him to get over me, told him this is why I'd never give him another chance. Then I kicked him out."
Jaemin blinked slowly. "I feel like there's something you're not telling me."
You smiled faintly. "Okay fine. I told him I'd quit to avoid him."
He threw his hands up. "See, listen to yourself! You sound like you're in love with him. No one quits their super fun job where they work with their super duper fun best friend to avoid someone they don't love."
You crossed your arms. "Okay, but you're missing the part where he told me to just get over everything, like it's nothing."
"I'm not missing it." Jaemin leaned forward. "It's just— you know that boy more than I do, and even I know he thinks it's obvious that you love him. You both wouldn't be walking around in turtlenecks and hoodies right now if you didn't."
You smirked. "It was a fashion choice, that's why I brought mine."
He laughed. "Yeah, a fashion choice. I didn't even know you owned that ugly thing."
You gasped. "Stop. It's comfortable and warm... I don't know why he brought his." You paused, thinking. "Wait. The dryer— that 'accident.' What did you mean?"
Jaemin scratched his neck. "I'm really not supposed to talk about this."
"No, you will talk about this. What's going on?"
He sighed. "Yeah, no. He definitely planned this whole thing— we planned this whole thing, more him than me, but... it wasn't supposed to go that far. I told him straight up— either he got rejected or not, but it was what it was and he said he knew. The plan wasn't for you two to— you know— but I guess he knew it would happen. Because he knows you, even now, even if you think he doesn't."
You glared. "You traitor—"
"Please don't kill me." He sat up straight, hands up. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. He freaked out without telling me, I almost beat his ass earlier today for it."
"Wait— you talked to him out there earlier?"
"I should honestly shut up because it keeps getting worse for me every time I keep talking."
You frowned. "So why'd you ask me to tell you the full story if you already knew?"
"I mean, there's two sides to every story. Plus, you kinda always leave things out. I was just trying to be the middle ground, the peace settler."
"We don't need a middle ground or peace settler. We need people to stay out of our business because it's making it worse."
"He just needed help from someone who knows you, he really loves you."
You looked away. "I don't care. Can you not tell I don't care? If he loved me and knew me so well like you're saying, he could've figured this out on his own. I'm not as difficult as he's making it seem, I don't know why he even included you in this."
Jaemin sighed. "Okay, yeah. How about we wrap this up and watch a movie?"
"It can't be that hard. I'm not that difficult, it's him. Am I difficult?"
He went quiet, looking guilty. "A little." He spoke softly. "But he's difficult too, you both are, and it's making me upset, so please— can we watch this movie and move on?"
You didn't answer, just stared at him, eyes glassy. "Why am I difficult?"
He sighed again, turning on the TV. You tugged on his arm gently, your voice quieter. "Why am I difficult?"
He turned to you, expression soft. "He made you difficult, but you made him difficult too, more than he was before. So you're right— maybe he does need to let it go and maybe he was right that you do too. You both need to let it go. Then maybe you'll be perfect for each other or maybe you'll realize you're not. Whatever it is, you'll both be stuck here because nothing's changing."
You just nodded slowly, eyes down.
He sighed, standing up and grabbing his keys. "Now I have to go get food because I hurt your feelings. Text me if you don't want me to come back or never talk to me ever again."
You smiled faintly. "Of course I want you to come back. I really appreciate that you told me that straight up, because you're right. You're so right and I needed to hear it."
He smiled too. "So... no food then?"
You laughed quietly. "Of course you have to get me food still."
He grinned, walking to the door.
"Don't take too long, I might change my mind."
He looked back with a small smile. "Noted."
The apartment was too quiet after the door shut. You didn't even realize how loud his voice filled the space until it was gone.
You sat there for a while, staring at the TV screen. The slight reflection of you in it looked almost unrecognizable— eyes tired, hair messy, hoodie swallowed around you like it was hiding something. Maybe it was, maybe it was hiding everything.
You pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin there. It was weird how quickly everything had gone from laughter and firelight to this aching silence. It hadn't even been twenty four hours.
You thought about the trip, about the snow, about how he laughed when you fell trying to ski, and how you pretended to be mad even though hearing him laugh again almost broke something open in you.
You thought about the way he'd looked at you that night— soft, nervous, the same eyes that once felt like home.
And then you thought about all the nights he didn't come home. The ones where you stared at your phone until it burned your eyes. The ones where you waited up because you believed he'd change, believed he'd choose you.
Your throat tightened. You hated that you still loved him, hated that every time you saw his face, all the anger in you melted into something that felt like missing him.
Your chest hurt, like your heart was trying to tear itself in two— one half begging to forget him, the other half clinging to every piece of him you'd ever had. You thought about what Jaemin said. That maybe you both needed to let go, but how do you let go of someone who's built into your routines? The song that plays when you shower. The name that still slips out when you're too tired to think.
You went to the sink, splashing cold water on your face, looking at yourself in the mirror.
"You're okay." You whispered, but your reflection didn't look like it believed you.
The truth was, you didn't want to stop loving him. You just wanted it to stop hurting so much.
When Jaemin came back, the apartment smelled like takeout and vanilla candles. He kicked the door shut with his foot, holding up a paper bag like a trophy.
"I come bearing gifts." He said dramatically.
You laughed, shaking your head as he set everything down on the coffee table. "What'd you get?"
"The usual." He grinned, unpacking it— your favorite sandwich, fries, and something sweet because he always remembered.
You both sat cross legged on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background— one neither of you were really watching, just something to fill the air. For a while, it was peaceful. You ate, laughed when he spilled sauce on his hoodie, and he pretended to be offended.
Halfway through the movie, he glanced at you, you could feel it before you even looked over.
"Sorry." He said suddenly, eyes flicking back to the screen. "But it's really itching my brain."
You raised a brow. "What?"
"What are you gonna do about him?"
You sighed softly and let out a small laugh. "Nothing."
He blinked. "Nothing?"
You nodded, still giggling a little. "Nothing. I'm not quitting, though."
He gave you a half smile, somewhere between proud and concerned. "So what, you're just gonna coexist?"
"Yeah." You said, leaning back into the couch. "But you need to seriously talk to him, like, straight up. Tell him what you told me earlier. I want a normal work environment, not one where I feel watched."
He looked at you for a moment, thoughtfully and quiet, then nodded. "Okay." He said finally. "I will."
You smiled and turned your eyes back to the screen. The movie flickered light across both your faces, the silence between you calm this time.
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It had been three weeks.
Three long, quiet, awkward weeks had passed. The kind where everything felt normal on the surface, but underneath it was tight, weird, and fragile. Everyone was still talking, still joking, still vibing, but it was different. You and Haechan still said hi, still passed each other things at work, still existed in the same space, but it was all polite, careful.
So when he had walked up to your desk that morning and said, "Hey, can you send those files over when you get a chance?"
You had just nodded. "Yeah, I'll send them."
He had smiled a little. "Thanks."
That had been it, that was all it was. Just small talk, work talk, but it had still felt weird.
A little later, Jaemin had leaned against your desk, tapping his pen against your notebook like he'd been waiting to say something.
"He's letting it go too."
"Super normal. Are you happy?"
You had blinked up at him, confused for a second before nodding. "Yeah, I am. Thank you."
He had smiled softly and walked away.
It had been close to five when you had heard Jaemin from across the office. "Oops." He said.
And Haechan had immediately followed with, "What the fuck, Jaemin!"
Everyone had looked up.
"Ignore that." Haechan had called out. "He sent one of my personal files by accident."
You already knew that saying that had been a mistake. Chenle had immediately stood up, grinning. "You shouldn't have said that, now we're definitely gonna open it. Everyone, gather round my desk for a Haechan mystery file watch party!"
Hana had already gotten up, Renjun had trailed behind her. Jaemin had still been standing at Haechan's desk, looking guilty. You had been debating whether to just mind your business when Chenle had looked right at you. "Y/N! You don't wanna miss this. It's the mystery folder watch party of the century."
You sighed, getting up and going.
Haechan was threatening Chenle from across the room. "You're dead if you open that."
Chenle had laughed, finger to his lips. "Shhh." He said, as he double clicked.
The screen had filled with files— notes, little documents, lyrics, lines. They hadn't been labeled with your name, but they hadn't needed to be. Every word had been something you recognized— an inside joke, something you'd said, something only he could've remembered.
Then Hana had leaned closer, squinting. "Wait." She said softly. "What's that?"
You had followed her finger to a small video file tucked in between folders. Labeled: "lysco cover."
"Play it." Hana said.
Chenle had unplugged his headphones without a word and clicked.
The sound had crackled for a moment, then a few shaky familiar chords had played. It had been Haechan, sitting on the floor of what looked like his bedroom, the light from his desk lamp painting his face in gold and shadow, guitar in hand. He hadn't looked at the camera once, just started singing— eyes closed. No embellishment, no audience, just him and that voice that had always found a way to sound like he meant every word.
The words had seeped into your brain. The familiarity, the song you always hummed when focused, like it was programmed into your mind. The song you had played over and over again when you broke up, secretly hoping— begging, that he would turn up at your door, knowing that you would take him back in an instant, even though your mind was screaming that he didn't deserve it.
So I'll wait for you, love
And I'll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return?
Oh, will I ever learn?
Oh, lover, you should've come over
Cause it's not too late
You blinked, trying to steady your breath, and glanced at the date in the corner of the screen.
January 2nd.
The day you had all gotten back from the trip. You felt your heart drop.
"Damn." Hana muttered.
"Who knew he was such a hopeless romantic." Chenle said, grinning.
Renjun didn't say anything, and Jaemin just looked at you quietly.
And before you could even process, Haechan stormed over and slammed the laptop shut. "Sleep with one eye open." He muttered, glaring at Chenle.
"That was great though, Haechan. You sounded so desperate." Chenle said with a smile, leaning back in his chair.
Everyone laughed, it was funny to them. The moment was over, but you were stuck there— head spinning, pulse in your ears.
Later that night, you and Jaemin grabbed dinner after work. You ended up back at his place, eating takeout on his couch, a movie playing in the background. It was calm... normal, but it was nagging your mind.
"All for letting go, huh?" You said suddenly.
Jaemin looked over at you, chopsticks mid air. "Huh?" Then he got it. "Oh." He set his food down. "Did you see the dates? He'd been writing that stuff for years."
You laughed under your breath. "Did he plan this one too?"
"Did you see his reaction?" He said. "Absolutely not."
You squinted at him. "So you did it on purpose. You're the one who sent it to all of us."
He didn't answer right away, just gave a tiny shrug.
"You knew if you sent it to me, I wouldn't open it. You knew Chenle would."
He smirked faintly. "This has you shaken up, doesn't it?"
"I'm not shaken up." You said too fast. "I'm just confused, confused why you'd do that after telling me to let it go."
He tilted his head. "That's not all I said, but you chose to remember that part. Why? Because it's obvious you haven't let go, unless you processed it differently?"
You frowned. "Why are you so obsessed with this? Why can't you just let it go? It's been weeks."
He exhaled, leaning back. "Weeks since we talked about it, sure. But it hasn't been weeks, Y/n— it's been years."
"Let it go, Jaemin." You said quietly.
He shook his head. "Maybe I sent it to everyone so you wouldn't read it alone, because you would've. We both know you would've. You just would've done it in silence and reacted differently. You act like I don't know you, but I do. I can see it in your face."
He paused. "Yeah, maybe I am obsessed with it, but it's because I'd been through it all with you. I just want you to be happy. I can see it, even if you can't."
You looked down, your throat tight.
"Tell me right now." He said softly. "Tell me you want me to never bring this up again. That you want it over, I'll talk to someone I know in another department, get you transferred out— away from him. Just say the word."
You blinked, startled. "But what about what you said before— about letting go—"
"That is letting go." He said. "Being honest about what you feel, that's letting go."
"I—I don't even know how I feel."
"Then it's settled." He said. "I'll email my friend. You'll be switched by next week."
You snapped your head up. "No."
He blinked. "No?"
"What about Hana? Renjun? Chenle? I'll miss them."
He softened. "They're your friends, Y/n. You'll still see them."
Your lip trembled. "I don't know, Jaemin. I don't know what to do, I need time to think."
He sighed. "Don't you think you've had enough time?"
"Jaemin." You said, your voice breaking. "You don't get it, I seriously don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. I love him— of course I do, but I feel like I'm not supposed to. It's like I'm fighting myself every day trying not to."
He looked at you for a long time. "You aren't fighting it, you're running from it. You're waiting for it to stop hurting instead of fixing it, that's not healing." He said, quietly.
"Love isn't supposed to be this confusing." You whispered. "It's not supposed to hurt this much."
"No." He said. "It's not, but it's not love that's hurting you."
You looked at him, confused, and he sighed.
"His smile alone makes you smile." He said softly. "That's love. What's hurting you is everything else— the resentment, the guilt, the push and pull of loving him, but telling yourself you shouldn't. You're using the past as a reason to hate him, that's what's tearing you apart."
You went quiet, the only sound was your breathing, shaky and uneven.
Jaemin's voice dropped lower. "I'll give you one week." He said. "I hated pushing you like this, but I can't keep watching you destroy yourself. You can't keep blaming him for not being enough now, he tried, he's doing his part. Now it's time to do yours."
You didn't say anything. You just sat there, staring at the floor, every word replaying in your head until it stung.
And Jaemin hadn't pushed anymore after that, he just sat with you in silence, letting the weight of it all settle in.
═════════════════════════
A few days later at work you were mostly quiet. Headphones in, eyes glued to your screen. Pretending to be way too focused to notice Jaemin trying.
He kept trying though.
He hovered by your desk, asking questions he already knew the answers to, like that was some kind of apology in disguise.
"Hey, uh— you have the updated schedule for next week?"
"It's in the drive." You answered, not even looking up.
"Shared folder?" He asked, still standing there.
You nodded once, short. "Mhm."
"Cool." He muttered, but he didn't move, not yet. You could see him hesitate in your peripheral vision, trying to read you, waiting for something, anything that might make things normal again.
You didn't give it to him.
Finally, he walked away, and the second he was gone, you pulled out one earbud, exhaling through your nose.
A few hours later, Hana turned in her chair towards you. "Hey." She said, bright and casual. "You're coming to dinner tonight, right?"
You blinked up from your laptop. "Dinner?"
"Yeah." She said. "We made reservations at that new rooftop place downtown— the one that just opened? We're dressing up, so don't even think about saying no."
You hesitated, halfway between saying no and maybe next time, but her eyes were hopeful, and you were tired of being the quiet one.
You shrugged. "Sure."
Hana grinned. "Good."
Across the room, Haechan looked up. "What dinner?"
Chenle leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Maybe we don't want you there."
Haechan blinked. "Wow, thanks."
Chenle burst out laughing. "I'm kidding, we were literally about to tell you."
"Uh-huh." Haechan said, clearly unconvinced. "Well, I'll be there anyway."
By the end of the day, when everyone was packing up, Jaemin caught you right before you left.
"Hey." He said, stepping in front of your desk. "Can we talk? Just for a minute."
You didn't even bother hiding the sigh that left you. "Make it quick."
He looked nervous, something that was new.
"I want to say sorry." He said finally. "I was too harsh. I shouldn't have pushed you the way I did. I just— I hate seeing you stuck in this cycle, but I went about it wrong."
You studied him for a second. He wasn't performing it, he looked like someone who hadn't slept right in days.
You nodded once. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah, we're fine." You said, softer this time.
He let out a small breath, relief flickering through his expression. "Good."
He took a step back, already walking toward the door. "I'll come over later, yeah? And... don't be mad at me later."
You squinted. "Later?"
He just smiled, like he knew something you didn't. "Later." He repeated as he walked off.
You watched him go, brow furrowed. Whatever, you'd deal with later when it happened.
You hadn't even gotten halfway home before your phone started lighting up.
Hana: I'm so sorry, can't make it. my cousin's in town unexpectedly.
Renjun: family thing, can't go either :/
Chenle: bro... my stomach is killing me, I'm out.
Jamin: sorry, can't come either. you and haechan should still go though hard to get a table there!
You stared at the messages, one by one.
Four in a row, all within five minutes.
You didn't even have to think about it. You could see it— their little secret chat lighting up, all of them snickering at how predictable this must look.
You sighed and typed a single reply:
You: okay.
A few minutes later, another text popped up.
Haechan: hey, if it's weird just us, I can find a few people who'd wanna come.
You thought about saying no, thought about ditching altogether.
You: no, it's fine. let's still go.
The restaurant was ridiculous. Tall windows, gold accents, tables spaced far apart, soft jazz humming low in the background.
You showed up first, and you instantly felt out of place— overdressed and still not enough at the same time. You were adjusting your bracelet when Haechan walked in, looking... yeah, very unfairly good.
You both laughed when the hostess led you to a table near the edge of the restaurant, overlooking the city— one table, two seats, candlelight, perfect view of the skyline.
"Wow." You murmured, half to yourself. "Subtle."
He laughed under his breath. "Yeah, they really thought they were slick with this one."
You sat down anyway, because what else were you going to do?
At first, it was awkward. Small talk about work, joking about Chenle's constant caffeine addiction. Then, somehow, it started to flow in that way that sneaked up on you when you stopped overthinking.
Halfway through the meal, you glanced up. "That cover was beautiful, by the way."
He blinked. "What cover?"
"The Jeff Buckley song." You clarified. "The one from the folder. I listened fully out of curiosity, hope I didn't intrude."
He paused, fork midair, then laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "Oh— no, no, it's fine. It probably would've been shared eventually, like... with the team."
You nodded. "It was beautiful, though."
He looked at you for a long second, softer this time. "Thanks, and sorry if that was awkward. I didn't expect you to see it at all. I know we've been trying to make things normal, or—" He shrugged "as normal as they can be."
You gave a small smile. "I don't know what you're talking about. I listened because I was curious, not because it meant anything. It's not weird to me."
He nodded slowly, eyes dropping to his plate. "Right."
The waiter came back, hands behind his back and a smirk that gave both of you pause.
"Sir." He said to Haechan. "Are you ready for the dessert?"
Haechan blinked. "Uh... sure?"
The waiter nodded and walked away, and Haechan leaned closer. "What was that?"
You shrugged, laughing a little. "No clue."
But when the waiter returned, he slid a dessert plate between you with words written across the surface in neat chocolate script:
Will you be my girlfriend?
You stared at it, then at Haechan. "Haechan?"
His eyes went wide. "No— no, I didn't— this isn't—" He turned to the waiter. "That's not for us."
The waiter insisted it was, said it had been paid for in full already. Haechan was flustered, face turning red as he fumbled through apologies.
You placed a hand over the plate lightly. "It's fine, seriously."
When the waiter finally walked away, Haechan slumped in his chair. "I swear, I didn't know about this. I feel like this just destroyed any progress we've made."
You laughed softly. "It's not your fault, probably one of their stupid plans. You all act like you're not the most obvious people on the planet."
"You all?" He asked, defensive.
"Not you." You said, smiling. "But I know what you did on the trip."
His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Oh."
"Yeah." You teased. "You thought you were so slick."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I kinda regret that now. You know... with all the aftermath."
"No need to regret it." You said. "We're here, laughing about it now. That's something."
He nodded. "Progress, huh?"
"Exactly."
You hesitated for a moment. "I do want to be friends, though... like real friends. No weird energy, no avoiding each other in the office."
"Well." He said, leaning back. "That won't happen anymore."
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, right."
You looked down at your plate, tracing the letters in the chocolate drizzle with your fork. "I just don't want to be stuck in that same spot forever. I want to talk to you like normal. Maybe grab lunch at work without it being a big thing."
He hummed lowly, nodding.
"Am I making you upset?" You asked nervously.
"You're not making me upset." He said when you glanced up. "I'm just... I'm— no, you're not."
You smiled. "Good."
Then you quietly took your spoon, wiped away the word girl from girlfriend, and slid the plate toward him.
He stared, then burst out laughing. "You're soooo corny."
You laughed too, cheeks warming.
When you both walked out of the restaurant, the air was cold enough that your breath fogged a little. The city lights felt softer at night, maybe because everything else felt heavier.
Haechan walked beside you, quiet for a few moments. "Did you drive here?" He asked.
You shook your head. "No, I called a car."
He nodded, then glanced toward the parking lot. "I can drive you home."
You hesitated for a second, but his tone was casual, friendly. "Sure."
The ride was mostly silent— the radio humming low, the occasional small talk about the food, the view, the awkwardness of the plate. It was calm... almost too calm.
When he pulled up in front of your building, you unbuckled your seat belt and started to grab your purse.
"I'll walk you in." He said suddenly.
"Oh, it's okay." You told him, smiling faintly.
He shook his head. "I insist. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"
You rolled your eyes, but let him anyway. "Fine."
The two of you walked up the steps. You unlocked the door and turned to him. "Well, bye."
He nodded slowly. "Can I get a cup of water before I go?"
You narrowed your eyes. "If this is another one of your elaborate schemes, you can forget it."
He laughed quietly. "I don't know what you're talking about, I just want water."
"Mhm." You said, suspicious but grinning. You grabbed a bottle from the fridge and handed it to him.
"Thanks."
He lingered, standing there by the counter, eyes darting everywhere except you. You could tell something was sitting on his mind.
Then finally— "I have to tell you something."
You tilted your head. "What?"
He breathed out through his nose. "I'm moving, a little far away."
Your brow furrowed. "Okay... why is this important to me? Not in a bad way, just a curious way." You smiled.
He swallowed. "I'm quitting the job. Got an offer somewhere closer to where I'll be living. More money, better hours."
"Oh." You blinked. "Congrats." But it came out flatter than you meant it to. The silence that followed was awkward. He just stared at the floor, shifting the bottle between his hands.
"Are you leaving because of me?" You asked quietly.
He looked up, startled. "No."
You took a step closer. "I know you, Haechan. I know when you're lying, and you're lying to me right now."
He looked at you for a long second, then sighed. "Yeah."
Your voice trembled a little. "Why?"
"Listen, I didn't really want to tell you—"
"No, tell me."
"I just can't, Y/n." He said, shaking his head. "I couldn't act normal, or cordial, or however you want me to act around you."
"I know you can't." You said, voice breaking. "But that's not the point, you're supposed to stay."
He flinched at that, frustrated. "You change your mind every five seconds. Some days you get close and then you love me, other days you act like I make you— like... sick. You say you want to be friends, but then you flip again and it's— it's confusing."
"That's not what this was—"
"Then what was it?" He snapped.
"You're leaving."
He laughed bitterly. "Why does it matter this much to you when you constantly act like this? When you told me you'd never give me another chance, when you said what we did meant nothing, that it was just a 'get back'?"
Tears stung at your eyes. "No, that's—"
"And you self sabotaged." He said, cutting you off.
"I know—"
"And you push and pull whenever it gets too real for you." He went on, his voice cracking. "And it's not fair."
"I know." You whispered. "And I'm trying to fix it."
"Then why do you keep doing it?"
"Haechan—"
"I love you." He said suddenly.
You spoke quickly. "I loved you too."
"You weren't acting like it."
That line landed like a punch. You stared at him, stunned.
He stepped closer. "I get it, okay? I treated you like shit before, I did. But now it feels like you're just trying to hurt me back, like you want me to feel it."
"I'm not—"
"You are." He interrupted, voice shaking. "You're making me feel like I deserve this."
"You don't."
"Well, I feel like I do." He said, tears falling now. "I tried to hide it. I was cordial, I was friendly, I was distant, I was everything you said you wanted me to be, even when you made me feel like I should feel guilty for loving you. Like I'm—" He choked up. "Like I'm some crazy, unsustainable, unlovable person."
"I didn't mean to—"
"So what are your intentions then?" He asked, voice raw. "I hurt you and you left me. Fine, I deserved that. But do I deserve this? The constant ache when you say things like that, while I just sit here and take it because I love you?"
"That's not why I'm acting like this."
"Then why?" He asked desperately.
"Because I'm scared!" You screamed.
He just stared at you.
You swallowed hard. "Haechan... I want it to be you so bad, you don't even understand. But I don't know how to anymore. I'm scared that if I put everything into you again, I'll get hurt again. And if that happens, I don't know if I could recover this time. I haven't been great to you, I know that, and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry because you don't deserve this. But I don't know how to do this anymore."
He exhaled, shaking his head. "And that was my fault. I'm sorry I did this to you. And yeah, it's gonna take time to trust me again, but I want you to more than anything. I want another chance to do it right this time."
You stared at him, chest tight. "You say that now." You whispered. "You always say the right things after the damage is done."
His expression faltered, his shoulders dropping. "You're right, I do, and I don't deserve for you to believe me right away. But I mean it this time, you don't have to say yes. Just... don't shut me out yet."
You pressed your lips together, trying to steady the shakiness in your hands. "You broke something in me." You whispered. "I keep trying to act like it doesn't matter, but it does, it still does."
"I know." He said quietly. "And I hate that I did. But let me try to fix it, even if it's slow."
You laughed weakly, tears slipping down your face. "You don't even know what you're asking for."
"I do." He said, voice firm but gentle. "I'm asking for another chance."
For a long moment, you just looked at him. You knew he wasn't the same person who'd hurt you or maybe he was, and that was the risk. Either way, he was standing there, waiting, open.
"I don't know if I can trust you again." You said softly.
He nodded. "Then let me earn it."
Something in your chest loosened— not forgetfulness, not yet, but a quiet willingness to believe.
You reached out, grabbing his arm, voice trembling. "Just don't go."
He stepped forward, hands cupping your face like he was holding something breakable. "I won't. I'm leaving the city, but not that far. I'd come here every day if I have to. Just tell me you want this."
You nodded, crying. "I do."
He smiled softly, relief breaking through his tears. "Okay."
"Can we— can we please take it slow?" You said, voice coming out clipped.
He nodded quickly. "Of course we can, whatever pace you need."
You laughed, a shaky sound that cracked in the middle. "Yes, slow."
He let out a soft laugh too. "Slow."
You both laughed quietly, wiping tears from each other's faces.
"I love you." He said.
"I love you too." You whispered.
Then he leaned in and kissed you— long and quiet, all of it unspoken until now.
Then a knock at the door.
You pulled apart, breathless. "It's probably Jaemin." You mumbled. "He said he was coming later."
You open the door. Jaemin standing there, glancing between you and Haechan, the tension obvious.
"I hope those tears were happy." He said carefully.
"They weren't." You say flatly. Then you glance back at Haechan. "I hate you, leave, I never want to see you again."
There's a pause before you both burst out laughing.
"Seriously." You said, still smiling. "You should probably head home though."
"Okay." He said softly.
He pulled you into a hug, and when you break apart, you look at each other for a moment before you lean in and kiss him again.
"See you tomorrow." He said quietly.
You nod. "See you tomorrow."
He left, and when you turn back around, Jaemin's leaning against your counter with that smug grin.
"I knew the dessert was a good idea."
You immediately hit him in the stomach. "That's for trying to set me up again."
He groans dramatically. "Ow—"
"And this." You said, hitting him again. "This is for that stupid dessert stunt."
He smirked. "Obviously it worked."
You grabbed your phone and showed him a picture— Haechan mid laugh, holding the plate that read: Will you be my friend? instead.
Jaemin laughed as he walked into the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" You asked.
"Making popcorn." He said. "Because I know that's not how it ended, not after you just kissed him goodbye."
You sighed. "It was more for closure. Honestly..." You said, rubbing your eyes. "I don't want to talk about this. Can we just watch a movie?"
"I didn't like how that sounded." He muttered, already suspicious. "You're scaring me."
You give him a look, and he lifts his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine."
He joins you on the couch, the room dim and quiet except for the sound of popcorn popping in the background— and for the first time in a long time, it actually feels like maybe everything's finally shifting in the right direction.
═════════════════════════
His place was small, but it felt warm— like the kind of place that had been waiting to be lived in. Boxes were stacked against the walls, mismatched mugs sat on the counter, and a playlist played low from someone's phone.
You were sitting cross legged on the new couch, sipping from a red cup while Chenle complained from the armchair.
"I actually hate all of you." He said dramatically, looking around the room. "Who told this man to move to the middle of nowhere?"
Haechan groaned. "It's literally an hour away, Chenle."
"Exactly." Chenle replied. "An hour away from me, that's betrayal."
You laughed, shaking your head. "You act like he moved to another country."
"He might as well have." Chenle muttered, crossing his arms.
Haechan threw a popcorn kernel at him. "You're being so dramatic."
"Dramatic? You left me!" Chenle shot back. "You abandoned the city! Our lunch spots! Our Thursday café runs!"
Haechan smirked. "You mean the café you were banned from?"
Chenle squinted. "You didn't have to bring that up."
Everyone laughed, but he kept looking at you though. You noticed it every few seconds— the way his gaze softened when you spoke, how his hand brushed yours when he passed you something.
Renjun set down his drink and leaned back in the chair beside Chenle. "So, how often are you gonna come back to visit?"
Haechan paused, glancing over at you. You met his eyes and smiled.
"Often." He said finally.
Chenle groaned. "Ugh, they're doing that thing again."
You blinked. "What thing?"
"That thing where you two have your own language and think no one notices."
Renjun grinned. "Yeah, it's disgusting."
You tossed a pillow at them, laughing. "You're all so annoying."
Haechan laughed too, shaking his head as he picked up the pillow and tossed it back at you gently. "Get used to it." He said. "They're not going anywhere."
"Neither are you." You said without thinking.
He looked at you again, and smiled. "No." He said quietly. "I'm not."
And for a second, the noise of everyone else faded out— it was just you, him, and the feeling that somehow, this time, it might actually last.
The night wound down slower than you expected. Empty bottles cluttered the counter. The playlist still played, quieter now— background noise against the faint hum of the fridge. Everyone said their goodbyes one by one, and soon it was just you and Haechan, standing in the middle of his half unpacked living room.
There was mess everywhere— jackets on chairs, paper plates on the coffee table, a blanket someone had spilled popcorn on. He was gathering cups.
"You know, for a housewarming party, you didn't do much warming." You said with a smile.
He looked up, smiling faintly. "You think I need practice?"
"I think you need furniture." You teased.
He laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, that too."
You grabbed a few cups, stacking them into a small pyramid, and for a while, there was just the sound of things being cleaned up.
When everything was finally back in some kind of order, you both ended up sitting on the couch again— tired, relaxed, still holding half finished drinks you weren't really drinking.
He leaned back, eyes half closed. "You know, I didn't think everyone would actually drive an hour and come."
"They're your friends." You said. "Even when you act like an idiot."
"I'm charming." He muttered.
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "Sure."
There was another pause before he turned his head to look at you. "Stay tonight." His voice was quiet when he said it.
You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Just...stay." He said. "You've been drinking, it's late. I've got a spare room... or you can take the bed, I don't care. I just—" He stopped, searching for the right words. "I just want you here, that's all."
And you didn't really need to think about it.
"Okay." You said.
His expression shifted— relief flickering across it like light. "Yeah?"
You nodded, and he smiled, standing up. "Alright, I'll grab you something to sleep in."
He disappeared into his room for a moment and came back with a shirt you knew used to be his favorite. You took it, holding it by the hem. "This one still smells like you."
He laughed under his breath. "That's kind of the point."
You changed, and when you came back out, he was sitting on the couch again, hair a little messy now, the lights dimmed low. You sat beside him, closer than you probably should have.
"Hey." He said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For coming tonight. For... still being around."
You looked at him, heart caught somewhere between warmth and ache. "You're welcome." You said.
The silence settled again. You ended up leaning your head on his shoulder, and he didn't move— just breathed out slow, his hand brushing yours once before settling still.
"Goodnight." You whispered.
He hummed, barely audible. "Goodnight."
And even though you weren't asleep yet, it felt like you could have been— like that small moment, quiet and unhurried, was exactly where you were supposed to be.
═════════════════════════
The next few mornings felt a little too quiet.
The office sounded the same way it always did— low chatter, the sound of keyboards, the occasional laugh from across the room, but something felt missing.
You sat at your desk, eyes drifting to the one across from you. The empty one.
His monitor was gone, his plant, his dumb little bobblehead that used to fall over every time someone bumped the table, nothing but clean space now.
You stared for a while, maybe longer than you should have.
Jaemin slid over, leaning against the corner of your desk with that usual grin that always meant trouble."Someone misses Haechan."
You glanced at him, then back at the desk. "And you don't?"
He hummed. "I do. No one expected him to up and leave like that, but..." He exhaled dramatically, arms crossed. "I guess it's for the best."
You nodded, still half lost in thought. "Yeah."
There was a pause, then a long, overly dramatic sigh from Jaemin. "Well." He said, "At least you're only friends, so it's less hard."
You looked up at him slowly. "We're taking it slow."
His brows lifted. "I thought you told me you were just friends?"
"Yeah." You said blankly. "I was obviously lying. I kissed him goodbye."
It took about two seconds for that to register before his whole face lit up. "I knew it!"
Before you could react, he turned to the room and shouted, "EVERYONE— Y/N AND HAECHAN MADE IT OFFICIAL!"
The entire office erupted in cheers and laughter. Renjun clapping, Hana shouting something like "About time!" Chenle standing up and banging on his desk like it was a drum.
You just closed your eyes for a second, took a long, slow breath. "You fucking idiot." You whispered.
Jaemin just grinned, absolutely unbothered, while everyone kept teasing and clapping.
You shook your head, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.
═════════════════════════
Jaemin's text had lit up your phone like an alarm: Come over. Now. Emergency.
You had rolled your eyes, grinning at the drama, and going anyway.
When you got to his place, the whole group was already there. Chenle flopped on the couch, Renjun with a beer, Hana juggling chips and dip.
You blinked. "What the hell is happening?"
Jaemin's grin was way too smug. He steered you toward his little office like he was about to unveil a trick. He opened the door and you froze because Haechan was already on the couch, looking just as confused as you were.
"Haechan?" You said.
"Y/n?" He answered. "What are you doing here?"
"Jaemin texted." You said. "Said it was urgent."
Haechan frowned. "Same here."
Jaemin giggled, shutting the door behind you without explanation.
You sat beside Haechan, him looking at you.
"I missed you." He said softly.
You couldn't stop the smile. "I missed you too."
Then Chenle spun around in Jaemin's swivel chair like he owned the place. He had on ridiculous fake reading glasses and folded his hands together like he was hosting a lecture.
"Welcome." He said, dead serious. "To your first session."
Haechan and you both blinked.
"Of?" Haechan asked.
"Couples therapy." Chenle said like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You laughed out loud. "They act like fucking high schoolers."
Haechan laughed too. "Explains why they got Chenle to do it."
Chenle looked offended. "Don't undermine my abilities. I was once a psychology major."
"Yeah." Haechan said, smiling. "Before you dropped it a semester in and changed to music."
Chenle chuckled for a second, then snapped his notebook open and popped a pen from behind his ear. "Focus. We have to get back to your couples counseling."
"We aren't even officially together." You said.
Chenle looked mildly shocked for a second, then waved it off. "We'll get back to that in a minute. Proceed." He pointed at Haechan. "Boundaries." He pointed at you. "Forgiving and forgetting. Great— tell me how this all started."
You and Haechan stared at each other, speechless, like two people who had forgotten the script, then you suddenly snapped.
"I'm gonna kill him." You grabbed the nearest pillow and lunged.
Haechan grabbed your arms at first, trying to stop you, but you broke free and charged after Chenle anyway. He screamed like a kid as he bolted through the door, sprinting down the hall with you chasing him.
It devolved into ridiculous chaos— tackles, shrieks, laughter, Chenle flailing and shouting that he hadn't signed up for this level of love and eventually everyone crashed back into the living room.
Hours later, you were all sprawled around on couches and floor cushions, eating chips and trading stupid stories. Renjun took a bite. "So how was the session?"
Chenle shrugged, still recovering. "Never doing that again, actually."
"Why not?" Hana asked, genuinely curious.
Chenle shifted, embarrassed. "Well... um, they're not a couple, so I guess it doesn't technically count—" He trailed off, then gave Renjun a look. "Also, I don't want to get beat up again." He admitted.
Everyone burst out laughing.
Hana turned to you with wide eyes. "Wait, you're not together?"
You shook your head. "No."
Renjun pointed at Jaemin like he was the judge. "But Jaemin said you were."
You chuckled. "Jaemin himself doesn't even know what's going on."
Jaemin slumped. "Yeah... my best friend hates me and doesn't tell me anything."
Everyone all laughed, but then Chenle leaned forward, mischievous. "So when are you making it official?"
Haechan looked at you, like he was checking if he was allowed to answer. Then he grinned, half serious, half adorable. "It's gonna be between us if we're official. You won't know until—" He shrugged, then laughed. "Boom, I don't know."
They all nodded, chuckled, threw a pillow, called him extra corny, and the night stayed loud and nonsensical.
═════════════════════════
September 1st (three years later)
The rooftop restaurant glowed. Strings of soft lights wove through the air above, the skyline humming faintly below, the kind of night that felt too perfect to be real. Everyone was already at the long table— Jaemin, Chenle, Hana, Renjun, voices overlapping, laughter carrying through the breeze.
Haechan waved you over, his hand slipping into yours before you could even pull the chair out. "Sit here." He said, motioning toward the edge of the table. "Best view."
You raised a brow. "You mean so you can steal my fries again."
He smiled that grin you had never been able to shake since the first time you saw it. "Maybe both."
When the server came by, you ordered your drinks, your food. You talked about his drive up, about how Chenle had gotten lost trying to find parking again. Everything felt light, it felt like this was what all the mess had been for: to find your way here.
At one point, Haechan leaned in close, voice softer than the rest of the noise.
"You look really beautiful tonight."
You met his eyes, smiling before you could stop it. "Thank you. You look handsome."
He exhaled a quiet laugh, half disbelief, half nerves, like hearing that still knocked him off balance.
The conversation around you got louder. Chenle joked about opening a group podcast called Trauma but Make It Funny, Jaemin threatened to trademark it. You laughed until your stomach hurt.
When the waiter came back to ask if everyone was ready for dessert, everyone nodded, you didn't think twice about it.
Plates started to appear. One for Hana, one for Chenle, two for Renjun because apparently he had ordered for "future hunger." Yours didn't come.
"Um..." You looked around. "Did they forget me?"
Haechan shook his head quickly, almost too quickly. "No, no, I'm sure it'll be ready soon."
You narrowed your eyes. "You sound suspicious."
He shrugged, eyes darting toward the kitchen. "Just hungry, and trying to be very, very patient."
You didn't think much of it, until the waiter finally returned. He carried a plate so big you almost laughed out loud. He set it right in front of you with a polite smile and stepped back.
And there it was.
In perfect, looping chocolate script across the porcelain:
Will you marry me?
You stared for a full second before bursting out laughing. "Three years later and y'all are still doing this shit? Some things never change, huh?"
You glanced up expecting laughter, but everyone was dead silent.
Chenle's jaw was dropped, Hana was covering her mouth, Renjun was blinking like he was trying to process what was happening.
You frowned, pointing. "Oh, so you all have nothing to do with this, huh?" You turned to Jaemin. "This must've been your stupid idea, right?"
But Jaemin was just sitting there, phone halfway out of his pocket, eyes wide. "Oh my god." He hit record immediately.
"Guys?" You said, half laughing, half nervous. "What's wrong with you? Why are you—"
Then you felt it, the shift in the air. The sudden quiet, the weight of a hundred tiny moments colliding all at once.
You turned around.
And Haechan was down on one knee.
Everything in your chest dropped.
He was holding a small velvet box, his hands trembling slightly, but his voice— his voice was steady.
"You've known me longer than anyone." He said softly, looking right at you. "Before I even knew who I was. You loved me when I didn't deserve it and you walked away when I gave you every reason to. Losing you was the hardest thing I've ever gone through... but it's what made me grow up."
You could barely breathe.
He took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Working with you again— seeing you, hearing your laugh, being near you, it reminded me of everything I broke and everything I wanted to fix. You didn't just give me another chance, you gave me my life back."
Your vision was already blurring.
"I know love isn't about perfection." He continued. "It's about choosing someone, every single day, and never taking them for granted, and I can't imagine waking up without knowing you're mine, I don't want to imagine it."
His voice caught a little.
Then he said it: "Will you marry me?"
You laughed through your tears, covering your mouth with your hand. "Oh my god."
Everyone was silent, waiting, watching— the entire world holding its breath.
You nodded. "Yes."
The table erupted, someone cheered, someone else screamed. Hana cried openly, Renjun stood up clapping like it was a concert, and Chenle wiped tears with a napkin while yelling, "I CALLED IT!"
Haechan slipped the ring on your finger, his fingers shaking, then stood and pulled you into him. You kissed him— long. When you broke apart, his forehead rested against yours.
"I'm going to be your husband." He said, almost laughing.
"I'm going to be your wife." You whispered back.
The cheers started again. You turned, blushing, laughing, trying to breathe as Chenle wipes his eyes dramatically.
"You're going to be my sister in law, Y/n!" He shouted, voice cracking halfway through.
The table bursts into laughter.
You shake your head. "Wasn't that going to happen anyway? Since you were planning to propose to him at thirty if you were both still single?"
Chenle gasped. "Y/n! He wasn't supposed to know that!"
Everyone busted out laughing, and even Haechan doubled over laughing.
When it finally calmed down, you look at everyone. "Okay seriously, did anyone know this was happening?"
Hana shook her head. "No clue."
"None of us even knew you were official. Jaemin said you were in some complicated situationship." Renjun added.
Jaemin laughed. "Yeah, and I can't believe you actually believed that."
Chenle turned to him, betrayed. "YOU KNEW?"
You rolled your eyes. "Duh, he's my best friend."
Jaemin lifted his glass. "But this I didn't know. Congrats, seriously. You both deserve it."
You smiled at him, heart full. "Thanks, Jaemin."
"So when did this happen, like you getting together?" Hana piped in.
"Our anniversary date." You smiled "Two years ago from today."
"Wow, it's your anniversary today and you're not even spending it alone with her, Haechan? Looks like we need couples therapy back." Chenle said.
You both gave him a look, but before you could say anything, Haechan piped in.
"Oh we did spend today alone." He trailed off. "In the morning, in the afternoon, in our bed. Where we fucked really really hard, multiple times."
"Oh my." You said, cracking a smile as you studied Chenles reaction— his mouth agape, eyes blinking slowly.
"I never thought I would hear that sequence of words come out of your mouth... seriously." Renjun said, shaking his head with a smile.
"This is why you need to mind your business, Chenle." Hana said.
"Hasn't learned in years." You said with a laugh.
Then you turn to Haechan who was already looking at you like he's still not entirely sure this is real.
You grinned, speaking quietly. "You're my fiancé."
He smiles that slow, soft, genuine smile— the kind that reaches his eyes. "You're my fiancé."
You both lean in, foreheads pressed together, the city lights flickering around you.
Everything you went through— every argument, every almost, every heartbreak, somehow led you here. To the rooftop, to him.
And when he kisses you again, the ring cool against your skin, the world goes quiet— like it's pausing just to let you both breathe it all in.
Love isn't perfect, it's patient. It hurts, and it heals. And sometimes, after everything, it comes back home.
ᝰ✍︎ ex!haechan x fem!reader (ft. some of the dreamies + random made up side character)
ᝰ✍︎ Prolouge | Part 1 | Part 2
ᝰ✍︎ synopsis- He cheated, and it hurt— badly. You walked away, convinced you'd never look back. But now, after five years of silence, you're working together again. The air is filled with things left unsaid, and the memories you buried refuse to stay quiet. You tell yourself you've moved on— that what you feel is nothing but ghosts of what once was. But every glance lingers too long, every accidental touch feels too familiar, and you can't help but wonder: can something once broken ever truly be whole again?
ᝰ✍︎ genre- work au, slow burn, second chance romance, smut 18+, angst, humor, slight fluff.
Now playing: Neu Roses- Daniel Caesar, Right My Wrongs- Bryson Tiller, Lose Control- Teddy Swims, You get me so high- The Neighborhood, Ivy- Frank Ocean, The Way You Do- Crying City
a/n- yess, finally, the full part. This is formatted really weird because of tumblr, so sorry TT. Anyways… I really hope you like this, and please lmk if you want to be tagged on the next part! Mwah mwah 💋
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Monday came quicker than you wanted.
The nerves you'd carried all weekend pressed heavier as you walked into the office, tugging at the strap of your bag like the motion might ground you. Each step felt measured, but inside your chest was a low beat you couldn't silence. The building smelled faintly of coffee and paper— something clean, bright. Every sound felt magnified. The click of your shoes, the distant ring of a phone, the buzz of quiet laughter somewhere down the hall.
The space was brighter than you expected— open, busy, alive in a way that instantly eased some of the tension tightening your shoulders. People moved with purpose, but not in that frantic, sharp way you were used to. There was no heaviness in the air, no clipped tones or darting eyes. Just small talk and laughter. It was... refreshing.
Jaemin was waiting near the front, waving like he'd been keeping watch for your arrival. "Hey, you made it."
"Barely." You smiled, your voice light but shaky, heart still hammering.
"Don't worry, everyone's chill. You'll see."
He led you past a few glass rooms until you reached one tucked in the corner, a smaller office where people sat at computers. The faint tap of keyboards and the low hum of music filled the air. A boy with soft features and round glasses glanced up first, a smile tugging at his lips.
Renjun nodded. "Welcome to hell." His smirk was playful, eyes glinting behind his glasses.
Before you could answer, another voice piped up from across the table. "I'm Chenle. Don't let him scare you— we're actually very professional."
That had Renjun rolling his eyes. "Sure we are."
You laughed, the sound escaping before you could catch it. The energy in the room was light— teasing without being mean, without crossing lines.
Your eyes slid to Hana. Headphones on, fingers tapping the desk in rhythm with whatever she was listening to. She looked up, noticing you, and tugged them off with an easy smile. "Hey, Y/n."
"Hey." You smiled, stepping closer.
"How are you liking everything so far?" She asked, voice soft but direct, the kind that made you feel like she actually wanted to know.
"Well, I just got here, so I can't really answer that." You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "Are we the only two girls in this office?"
Her grin widened like she'd been waiting for that exact question. She tilted her head toward the boys. "Yep, just us holding it down."
You groaned, half serious. "Great, another male dominated office. Just my luck."
She laughed and rolled her eyes in solidarity. "Don't worry, you get used to it. And if you ever need a break from male central, come find me. We can sneak out for coffee or something."
That eased something deeper in your chest, enough to let a real smile slip through. "Deal."
"Also, if Chenle gets too loud just throw something at him. That's what I do."
"Hey. I heard that!" Chenle called from across the room without looking up.
You laughed, shaking your head. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
Jaemin tapped your shoulder. "Meeting."
Hana got up, motioning for you to follow. " First days are always weird, just sit back and watch."
The meeting was manageable— better than you expected. Hours passed with you mostly observing, chiming in when they asked for your thoughts. Renjun's humor caught you off guard more than once, dry and perfectly timed. Chenle was loud and dramatic, but in a way that filled the room with energy instead of draining it. Even Jaemin— steady and reliable, slipped in jokes that made everyone laugh. Hana was sharp, stepping in whenever the room teetered into chaos. For a while, you almost forgot who else was in the room... almost.
Every time you looked up, he was there. Across the table, posture stiff, eyes flicking toward you and then away. The weight of him pressed on you like static in the air, invisible, but impossible to ignore. You kept your focus on your notes, your breathing, your smile, anything but him. But some part of you was painfully aware of every movement he made. The way his hand brushed his jaw, the way he leaned back, trying to seem calm, the way he never quite succeeded.
By late afternoon, you slipped out to the restroom, needing a moment alone. The hall was quiet, lit in pale gold from the windows. At the sink, you lingered, gripping the counter, your reflection calm even when your stomach wasn't. You let the water run for sound, splashing your hands lightly, pretending it cooled the ache in your chest. When you opened the door he was there, standing just a few feet away. For a second, you froze. He looked like he'd been pacing or maybe just lingering too long. His eyes found yours immediately, hesitant, almost desperate and the hallway suddenly felt too narrow.
"Hey." You forced your voice steady.
"Hey." His came out low, a word dragged through hesitation.
"How's the first day for you?" He asked after a moment, words stilted, like small talk was the only armor he had left.
"It's nice." You crossed your arms automatically, your body moving on instinct, as if it remembered how to protect itself.
"Y/n..." His voice cracked slightly, the sound scraping at something you thought you'd buried.
You swallowed hard. "What."
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His fingers flexed at his side, twitching like he wanted to reach out but couldn't. The silence stretched, long and unbearable, the air thick with everything you both refused to say. His throat worked once, twice, like he was forcing words back down. Finally, he muttered, "Forget it." Shaking his head, as he turned away, his steps uneven, retreating down the hall.
You stood there for a long moment, breath caught somewhere between relief and ache. Then you exhaled, steadying yourself before heading back in. At the table, no one seemed to notice you'd been gone. Chenle was mid story, Renjun was laughing. Jaemin grinned at something Hana said, his hand half covering his mouth. The noise washed over you, and soon you were laughing again too— like nothing had cracked open a few minutes ago.
Hours ticked by until someone leaned back with a sigh. "Drinks tonight?" Chenle asked, scrolling through his phone.
"Obviously." Renjun answered immediately. "You in, Jaemin?"
"Absolutely." She smiled, already slipping her laptop closed. "Y/n?"
You hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Yeah, why not."
All eyes turned to Haechan, who was staring off, lost somewhere else. "Haechan?" You asked, your voice soft. His head snapped up, eyes catching yours like he'd been caught thinking about you. "Huh? Yeah, sure." He cleared his throat, straightened in his chair.
Chenle grinned, satisfied. "Perfect. First day initiation complete."
The office lights dimmed as everyone packed up, the weight of the day peeling off bit by bit. Outside the air was cool, the sky fading into a soft blur of gray. The bar wasn't far, one of those spots you'd miss if you weren't looking, tucked between a laundromat and a bakery. Warm light spilled from the windows, laughter drifting out every time the door swung open.
Renjun claimed a booth in the back, sliding in with a grin, Chenle followed. Jaemin waved you and Hana forward, making sure you got the inside spot before sitting at the edge himself. Haechan slid in last, right across from you. You tried not to notice, you really did.
"First drink's on me." Chenle said, flagging down the server, his tone already bright with excitement. "Initiation rules."
"You just want an excuse to drink more." Renjun said.
"Exactly." Chenle grinned, handing you a menu before you could protest. "Pick something strong, no pressure."
Once the drinks started coming, everything loosened up. Renjun told some dry story that had Hana groaning halfway through. Chenle heckled him just to make it worse. Jaemin kept things balanced, laughing, checking in with you every now and then, making sure you were okay. You were, mostly. Except every time you looked up, Haechan was there. Quiet, back against the booth, eyes catching yours before he looked away again. It wasn't obvious, but you felt it— the weight of him, it burned.
At one point, Hana leaned in and nudged your shoulder. "They're always like this. Loud, dumb, dramatic. You'll get used to it."
You smiled, grateful for the distraction. "Kind of refreshing, honestly."
Her smirk softened. "Good, then you'll fit right in."
The night stretched on. Shots appeared, Chenle and Renjun got into a loud debate over music, Hana dragged you up to the bar, both of you laughing as you tried to weave your way back through the crowd. You turned, a drink in each hand, and brushed his arm. Barely a touch, but his hand came up instinctively, steadying your wrist before the glass tipped.
His eyes lifted to yours, and for one second, the noise around you disappeared. "Careful." He said quietly, voice almost swallowed by the music.
"I'm fine." You pulled back a little too fast, setting the glass down like you needed to prove it.
He let go, his fingers curling into his palm before he leaned back again. No words, no expression. Just that lingering heat, like your skin still remembered.
"Y/n!" Chenle's voice snapped you back. "First day done, a few rounds down. Any regrets yet?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "Not yet."
Renjun raised his glass. "To survival, then."
Everyone clinked glasses. The night wound down slow, drinks emptied, the laughter softened. One by one, people started peeling off— Renjun calling a ride, Hana hugging you tight before leaving with Chenle, who was still talking a mile a minute about nothing in particular. That left you and Jaemin. He shoved his hands into his pockets as you stepped outside. The air hit cool and sharp, your breath fogging faintly as you walked together.
"You good to walk?" He asked, glancing over.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
For a while, it was just footsteps and the hum of distant traffic, then Jaemin cleared his throat.
"So... that was something."
You groaned. "Don't."
He laughed under his breath. "What? I didn't even say anything."
"You didn't have to."
He let it go for a moment, then nudged your shoulder. "Okay, but seriously, that was definitely him, right?"
You sighed, eyes on the sidewalk. "Yeah."
Jaemin whistled lowly. "Damn. When you said high school sweetheart, I thought you meant cute little fling, not him."
You shot him a look. "What does that even mean?"
"Just— he's intense. Even when he's doing nothing, it's like he carries a storm around. And the way he kept looking at you tonight? Come on."
Your stomach twisted, you didn't want to think about that— the way his eyes lingered, or how his hand had felt. "Don't start."
"I'm not." Jaemin held up his hands. "I'm just saying, I don't want you getting hurt again."
You pressed your lips together. "It's been years, I'm over him."
"Maybe." His tone softened. "Just remember why you stopped talking in the first place."
You looked away, the memory pressing heavy in your chest. "I remember."
Street lamps stretched shadows across the pavement, then Jaemin bumped your shoulder, lighter this time. "If it ever gets to be too much— work, him, all of it, you've got me. I'm not going anywhere."
A small smile pulled at your lips. "I know."
He grinned. "Good. Now let's get you home before you collapse in the middle of the street."
You rolled your eyes, laughing. "I'm literally sober."
"Sure you are."
As you walked, he shifted the conversation toward lighter things— random stories, nonsense that made you laugh and eased the tightness in your chest. Still, when you closed your door that night, it wasn't his jokes that replayed in your head. It was Haechan— his voice, his eyes, his hand on your wrist like it had never left.
═════════════════════════
October 1st
It had been about three weeks since you started working there, and by now you were finally settling in. What surprised you most wasn't the workload, it was how quickly everyone had folded you into their group. They treated you like you'd been there for years: looping you into inside jokes, dragging you into lunch debates, inviting you out after work. It felt less like a job and more like you'd stumbled into a circle of friends who just happened to get paid to hang out. When you walked in that morning, you stopped short. The office was covered in Halloween decorations, fake cobwebs draped over monitors, tiny plastic skeletons hanging from the ceiling, paper bats taped to the walls.
"Oh, so you guys take this seriously." You said, dropping your bag at your desk and looking around.
"Duh." Renjun replied without glancing up from his screen.
"Speaking of Halloween, are we still doing the routine?" Hana asked, spinning in her chair.
"Of course." Chenle grinned like the answer was obvious.
You frowned at their shared smirks. "What routine?"
Jaemin swiveled toward you, lips quirking. "We all dress up, go to the work Halloween party for a bit—"
"The pregame." Chenle cut in smoothly.
"Basically." Jaemin continued, smiling. "Then we ditch and head to someone's place and get completely blacked out."
You squinted. "That doesn't sound very professional."
"Exactly." Renjun said flatly, still typing.
"You in?" Chenle asked, leaning back in his chair.
You smirked. "Duh."
"Perfect. We needed a new place to host anyway." Chenle stretched his arms behind his head.
"I'm out." You said flatly, trying to sound resolute.
"Damn." Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head.
Chenle's mouth dropped open, then he shrugged. "Haechan's place again, I guess."
Haechan groaned, shaking his head. "Wow, always me."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Fine, I'll host. But bring your own bottle, and one for me, just for disturbing the peace in my humble abode."
Everyone cracked up until Haechan's voice cut through the noise. "I don't mind, seriously. I can host like I do every year."
Renjun leaned back with a grin. "Yeah, and we only have to bring food because he already has all the alcohol."
"Of course he does, he's an alcoholic." Chenle said, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Still...?" The word slipped out before you could stop it.
The room went silent, every pair of eyes flicking toward you.
"Oop." Hana muttered under her breath.
Haechan just stared, caught off guard before rubbing the back of his neck, voice careful. "I mean, the bottles aren't open. That's why I have so many— to share. Makes me the opposite of an alcoholic, technically." His tone didn't help at all.
Chenle shook his head. "Yeah, sure bro."
The air hung heavy until you cleared your throat. "Sooo... my place or his?"
"Mine." Haechan's voice was firm as his eyes met yours. "My place."
"Awesome." Jaemin said quickly. "Haechan's place."
"With all his unopened bottles." Renjun echoed, laughing as he turned back to his computer.
When you glanced at Jaemin, he was already watching you, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're funny." He mouthed.
Your eyes widened. "I didn't mean to." You mouthed back, shrugging.
He chuckled, shaking his head before refocusing on his screen.
Later at lunch time, most of the team had already trickled out, but Jaemin was still glued to his desk. Your stomach growled, breaking your concentration. "I'm grabbing lunch." You said, stretching. "You want to come?"
He didn't look up. "I lowkey have to lock in, I'm behind on this milestone. Where are you going, though?"
"Rosso Vino."
"Ooo, could you grab me—"
"Meatballs." You finished for him. He finally looked up, grinning.
"Ah, I love you so much. I'll send the money."
You shook your head. "You don't have to. You literally bought me a Nintendo Switch for no reason. You think I'm taking twenty bucks for meatballs?"
"That was because I threw you in a pool while drunk." He reminded you, smirking.
You tilted your head. "Jogging my memory... yeah, you're right. In that case, send sixty— for interest."
He laughed, shaking his head. "On it."
Your phone buzzed. Jaemin had sent you a hundred dollars. "Perfect." You said, grinning as you tucked your phone away.
"You're welcome. Love you. Just get back in one piece, please." He teased, eyes back on his monitor.
You smiled as you slipped into the hallway and pulled the door open, only to have someone tug from the other side at the same time. You stepped back. "Sorry—" The words died when you saw Haechan.
"Oh, it's cool." He said quietly, shifting awkwardly as he started to walk past.
You hesitated, chewing your lip. "Hey, sorry about earlier— calling you out like that."
He paused, glancing back. "It's fine. I'm sure you didn't mean it." His voice was softer than usual, even if his shoulders were stiff.
Your eyes dropped to the takeout bag in his hand. "Rosso Vino, love that place."
A smile flickered across his face, quick and hesitant. "Really? Me too."
"What'd you get?" You asked, curiosity slipping through.
"Alfredo." He said, grin breaking through.
"My favorite. I was just about to get that."
"Mine too." He lifted the bag slightly. "Here, take it."
You blinked. "What? No, it's yours. I'm literally about to grab food."
"I'm not that hungry anyways. You can have it."
You shook your head. "No, seriously. Plus, I still have to pick up Jaemin's meatballs."
He peeked into the bag, then back at you. "There's four meatballs in here. Compromise."
You sighed, a reluctant smile pulling at your lips. "You really don't give up, huh?"
He laughed. "Just doing my civil duty."
"Fine, I'll take it."
He stepped closer, handing you the bag. His fingers brushed yours, just briefly, but enough. "Thanks." He said softly.
You nodded. "Mhm." With a small smile, you turned and headed out.
Back at the office, you set a drink and a box of meatballs on Jaemin's desk, his whole face lighting up. "You got me a drink too? I fucking love you." He popped open the box, only for his smile to drop. "I gave you a hundred dollars and you bring me four meatballs?" He dug into the bag and pulled out the container of pasta. "And then you get yourself a whole Alfredo. Wow."
"I didn't—" You lowered your voice. "Haechan gave it to me."
Haechan's head twitched slightly at his name, though he didn't turn around.
Jaemin stared at you, ready to say something, then just sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "I'll deal with you after work. Get out of my face, I'm hangry."
You smirked, heading back to your desk.
When the day finally ended, Jaemin fell into step beside you. "So, what are you about to do?" He asked casually.
You stiffened, eyes flicking down. "Nothing." You said quickly.
He stopped, frowning. "You good?"
"I said one word."
"Exactly. What's wrong?"
You exhaled, meeting his eyes. "You said we'd talk after work. And just for the record, nothing happened. He offered me food, that's all."
Jaemin blinked, then tilted his head as realization hit. "Oh right. I forgot about that." He shrugged. "Anyways, I'm starving. Gonna cook when I get home. You wanna come?"
Relief eased your shoulders. "Yeah, sure. I'll grab groceries."
"I bet you will, with my hundred dollars." He said, faking annoyance.
You laughed. "Text me what you want, I'll be over after."
"Alright, deal."
As you two headed toward the elevator, a voice called from behind. "Where are you guys going?" Chenle jogged up, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"About to cook dinner." Jaemin answered, pressing the button.
Chenle's brows shot up. "Dinner? I'm starving, drop me off a plate."
Jaemin smirked. "Why don't you just come?"
"Bet." Chenle said immediately. Mid step, he pulled out his phone. "Actually, I'll just tell the group chat."
"Wait—" You started, but too late. His thumbs were already flying.
By the time you reached the parking lot, everyone had said yes. "Perfect." Chenle grinned. "See you at Jaemin's."
Jaemin shot him a look. "You're too much."
By the time everyone piled into Jaemin's apartment, the place was chaos. Hana perched on the counter stealing chopped veggies. Renjun messed with the speaker to queue music. Haechan lingered near the wall, quieter than usual. Dinner took forever, but when the food was finally ready, the smell of garlic and butter filled the air.
"I'm starving." Haechan groaned as Jaemin set dishes down.
"Then eat." Jaemin laughed, sliding a plate his way.
Chatter filled the room as everyone dug in. Halfway through, Renjun leaned back, utensil aimed at you. "You two are cute." He said, nodding between you and Jaemin.
Jaemin smiled instantly. "Thanks. Love my best friend."
You nodded with your mouth full. "Same."
Chenle grinned. "Not just as a best friend, though."
Your face twisted. "Hell no."
Jaemin laughed. "Nah."
You jabbed your fork at him. "He's ugly."
Jaemin leaned back, offended. "Says the one eating my food, in my house, that I cooked, by the way."
You shrugged. "You don't have to be cute for me to enjoy your money. That's the point."
He rolled his eyes, pushing his plate away dramatically.
"They love each other." Hana said.
"As friends." You shot back. "Platonic friends."
"Exactly." Jaemin agreed. "We've known each other, what, five years? If we wanted each other, it would've happened by now."
Chenle smirked. "Or maybe you're both just in denial."
Jaemin groaned. "Ignore them, they're messy on purpose."
Laughter followed, the conversation drifting to work gossip. Haechan stayed quiet, poking at his food, eyes flicking toward you and Jaemin every so often. Eventually the night wounded down. Dishes cleared. Everyone sprawled out and full. One by one, they packed up, offering lazy goodbyes until the door finally shut behind the last guest. You helped Jaemin clean up, him washing, you drying, bickering about who made the bigger mess. When the last dish was stacked, you flopped onto the couch. "Okay, I'm done."
Jaemin dropped beside you, hair damp. "Thanks for helping."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late."
After a while, you pushed yourself up. "I should head home."
"Yeah." He followed you to the door. "Text me when you get back, okay?"
You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Fine, Dad."
He laughed, opening the door. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Later at home, you tossed your bag onto a chair and collapsed onto the bed. Half-asleep, your phone buzzed.
Haechan: hey, you still up?
You rubbed your eyes, staring at the screen.
You: Yeah, though I was just about to sleep. What's up?
Haechan: pretty sure i left my charger at jaemin's. saw it plugged in by the window could you grab it for me tomorrow
You: I did notice it. I'll let him know. Curious though, why not text Jaemin?
There was a longer gap.
Haechan: i did. he didn't answer. figured you might still be there or with him, so i tried you
You: Got it. I'll make sure it gets back to you.
Haechan: thanks. also... sorry if i came off weird tonight
You: No need to apologize. Long day for everyone. See you tomorrow.
The typing dots appeared, lingered, then vanished. You set your phone down and stared at the ceiling.
═════════════════════════
October 31st.
The party was already packed when you showed up. The bass hit your chest the moment you pushed through the doors, vibrating through the soles of your shoes. Neon lights flashed over cobwebs strung across the ceiling, fake spiders dangling in every corner. Costumes crowded the room— pirates, vampires, superheroes, and half assed outfits thrown together at the last minute. And you... a bumblebee. Bright yellow stripes, wings that kept catching in doorways, a headband with antennae refusing to sit straight. Hana had hyped you up when you sent a pic, promising it was "cute in a funny way" and you hoped she was right.
"Y/n!" Jaemin's voice cut through the noise. He was dressed as a vampire, plastic fangs poking out as he waved you over. Hana was by his side, a witch's hat tilted.
You weaved through the crowd, laughing when Renjun popped out of nowhere in a cowboy hat, waving a fake lasso. Chenle followed, lab coat, goggles, the whole mad scientist ensemble. Then your eyes caught on him, Haechan. He stood off to the side, red cup in hand, dressed as... something like a half baked knight. Cardboard shield strapped to his arm, held together with duct tape, a helmet clearly borrowed from another costume. Stupid and ridiculous. And yet, he looked unfairly good. Your eyes lingered just a second too long, and he noticed. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, catching your gaze mid stare. He didn't look annoyed, not exactly, but his eyes stayed on you a second longer than they should have, sharp and assessing, and your chest betrayed you. You tore your gaze away and let laughter and chaos pull you along. Drinks passed, games started, costumes judged and roasted. You and Haechan barely spoke, just the occasional glance across the crowd, quick and gone.
By the time you arrived at his house, the smell hit you first— history, old wood, faint smoke from candles. Music thumped low from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner. You drifted with Hana and Jaemin at first, sipping from your cup, letting their energy carry you. Eventually though, you ended up on the living room couch, another drink in hand, laughter spilling out of you as Renjun finished telling a story about his pumpkin carving attempt. And then Haechan sat next to you. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that you noticed. Before he sat, he lingered just a little too near, eyes flicking over you with that familiar intensity. You caught him staring and quickly looking away, pretending to focus on the group. You tried to act normal, eyes on the group, but when Chenle and Hana wandered off to refill drinks, and Renjun got pulled into a debate about music, it was just you and him.
He leaned a little toward you, voice low. "Your wings are crooked."
You blinked, turning to him. "What?"
He smirked, lazily pointing with his cup. "The left one's been flopping down all night."
You swatted at the plastic. "They've been crooked since I put them on, nothing I can do."
"They're cute, though." His voice was light, almost careless, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.
You laughed, glancing back toward the room. "Says the guy with a shield held together by duct tape."
He gasped dramatically. "Excuse you. This costume is iconic, legendary. People will tell stories about me."
You laughed, shaking your head. "They'll tell stories about how tragic it is."
His laugh spilled out, full and bright, tugging something deep in your chest, something you hadn't felt in years.
He leaned back against the couch, grinning at you. "Remember when we tried to go to that haunted house sophomore year? And you screamed before we even made it past the first room?"
Your mouth dropped open. "I did not!"
"You did. The guy with the chainsaw came out and you almost fell on your ass."
You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "Why do you always remember the embarrassing stuff?"
"Because it's the best stuff." His smile softened, voice dipping.
You stared at him for a second, then took a long sip of your drink to cover the way your stomach flipped.
The night stretched like that, little stories, drinks flowing until your face was warm, words loosening. Somewhere between laughing at Renjun's cowboy hat and debating whether candy corn was gross, you realized your knee had inched close enough to brush his. Neither of you moved it away. Later, the group thinned. Chenle disappeared, Hana and Jaemin were in the kitchen, Renjun asleep on the rug, quiet enough that your voices didn't have to compete with anything else.
Haechan tilted his head, studying you. "You seem... different."
"Different how?" You asked, wary.
He shrugged, swirling the last of his cup. "Not in a bad way. Just... different."
You let out a small laugh. "That's called growing up."
He nodded slowly, eyes dropping to his lap. "Yeah, guess so."
Silence stretched, you broke it first. "Your costume really is tragic, though."
He grinned, bumping your shoulder. "Shut up, you love it."
You smiled back despite yourself and for the rest of the night, you stayed there— talking, laughing, forgetting for a few stolen hours that anything had ever been broken between you. You were still on the couch, knees tucked up, another drink in hand. Haechan hadn't moved either.
"You always drank this slow?" He teased, nodding at your cup.
You raised an eyebrow. "You always talked this much?"
His grin widened, lazy and warm. "Fair, but I'm just trying to pace myself. Don't wanna embarrass myself in front of the bee."
You rolled your eyes. "You do that all on your own."
He let out a laugh that made your chest ache in the best way. He leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Crazy, huh? Sitting here like this again." Quiet, almost lost in the hum of the house.
Your stomach tightened. You looked at him, but he didn't meet your eyes. "Yeah." You said softly.
He glanced over then, eyes darker, something raw slipping through. "I missed this, missed you."
The words landed like a punch. You froze, breath catching. His face shifted, realization dawning.
"Sorry." He muttered, scratching the side of his cup. "That's the alcohol talking."
You forced a small laugh. "Guess it's honest, though."
His lips twitched into a half smile, eyes locked on you. "Guess it is."
The weight lingered, until you nudged him with your foot. "You still owe me an apology for that haunted house, by the way."
He blinked. "What?"
"You abandoned me in the clown room."
"I did not!" He sat up straighter, pointing a finger at you. "You pushed me into them and ran!"
You burst out laughing, tension cracking like glass. He laughed too, full and unguarded.
When you finally realized how late it was, the sky outside the window was already lightening with dawn and neither of you had moved. The living room was heavy with sleep after too many drinks and laughter. Cups sat abandoned, the Bluetooth speaker humming low. Renjun snored softly on the rug, Hana curled in a blanket on the recliner, Chenle facedown on the carpet. You blinked awake on the couch, head foggy, mouth dry. You shifted, and felt weight on you.
Haechan... head against your shoulder, arm loosely draped along the back of the couch. Hair brushing your jaw. For a second, you froze. He was asleep, breathing slow, features soft in a way you weren't used to seeing anymore. Across the room, Jaemin was already awake, sitting up with a water bottle.
You whispered harshly. "Jaemin."
He looked over— saw you, saw Haechan, tilting his head, disbelief written across his face. Then he mouthed "what the fuck"
You shrugged helplessly, mouthing back, "I don't know" before carefully shifting out from under Haechan. His head lifted, blinking blearily.
He sat back quickly. "Sorry."
"It's cool." You stood, already grabbing your bag. "I should go, though."
"Yeah, of course." He nodded, looking away.
Outside, air cold enough to sting, Jaemin shoved hands in pockets, giving you a long look. "So... interesting how you two were cuddled up like that."
You groaned. "I don't even know what happened. One minute we were talking, the next— I guess we fell asleep."
"Mhm." His hum laced with suspicion.
"Stop." You snapped, lips twitching. "You know it wasn't like that."
He raised brows. "I never said it was. Why'd you feel the need to tell me it wasn't?"
Your eyes narrowed. "You're trying to manipulate me."
"What? Manipulate you into admitting you still have feelings for your ex?"
You scoffed, crossing arms. "I do not, you know I don't. We work together, so we have to talk. I just don't want it to be awkward."
"It doesn't have to be awkward." Jaemin said easily. "It could still be strictly professional."
You gave him a look. "How, if no one else is? We're all friends."
"Oh." He tilted his head, smirking. "So you want to be his friend?"
"No." You hesitated. "A little. I just don't want anything to be awkward, okay? He's my ex, fine, but what now? It changes nothing that has to do with now."
"So you're letting it go?"
You grabbed his arm, shaking him dramatically. "No! That's not what I'm saying... just— ugh, never mind."
"Uh-uh." He grinned. "You can't just end the conversation you started."
"I didn't start it!"
"You did when you asked me to come out here."
You groaned again, shoving his shoulder. "Whatever, shut up, I hate you."
He laughed. "Are you coming back in?"
"Nah, I should probably head home and shower. I feel disgusting."
"You should, Misses Spin Back."
"Stop." You swatted at him, trying not to smile.
He squinted suddenly, leaning toward your shoulder. "Oh— hold on. You have his hair on you." He reached like he was going to pluck it.
You smacked his hand away, both of you laughing.
"I should get back in there." Jaemin said finally, still grinning. "Make sure Hana's good... and, you know, that we get out before Chenle decides to arise from hibernation."
You shook your head, laughing. "That doesn't sound too professional."
He gave you a sly smirk, backing toward the door. "Never claimed I was." And with that, he slipped back inside, leaving you in the cool October air, heart still racing for reasons you didn't want to name.
Your apartment was quiet. You showered, scrubbed off the stickiness, pulled on your comfiest sweats and an old shirt, then collapsed on your bed. Habit made you reach for your phone charger... but it was gone.
"Shit." You muttered, realizing exactly where it was.
You: still at haechan's?
Jaemin: nah, everyone dipped not long after you left
You: fuck
Biting your lip, you scrolled to Haechan's name.
You: hey, I think I left my charger at your place
Haechan: yeah, it's here. you need it rn?
You: yes please
Haechan: I was about to head out anyways, want me to drop it off?
You: that's fine. here's my address.
Less than ten minutes later, a knock. You opened it to Haechan, hoodie on, charger in hand. "Your lifeline." He held it out lightly.
"Thanks, was already panicking a little."
He lingered, hands in hoodie pockets. "Crazy, my place is only like five minutes from here."
"Yeah." You half laughed. "Small world."
Silence stretched before he cleared his throat. "Hey, sorry for... earlier. Falling asleep on you like that, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's fine." You shook your head. "Don't worry about it."
He nodded, eyes on you. Then he broke the silence again, quiet but casual. "I was just about to grab lunch. Want to come?"
Your stomach dropped, Jaemin's words from outside flashed: manipulating you to admit you still have feelings for your ex?
You scratched at your scalp, forcing a laugh. "Ah I would, but... I'm actually meeting Jaemin, for lunch. Like... right now."
His brow lifted, gaze flicking over you slowly— messy hair, oversized sweats, a paint and bleach stained shirt. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You nodded too fast.
"Mind if I come?" He asked carefully.
You blinked. "Uh— well, it's kind of supposed to be... intimate. Just us, talking about some personal stuff."
His eyes narrowed slightly, reading you before he finally nodded. "Got it."
You exhaled, gripping the charger tighter. "Well, anyways— thanks for bringing this. Seriously."
"No problem." His mouth curved, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "See you Monday."
And just like that, he was gone, the door shutting softly behind him. You stood, charger in hand like proof. Only then did you let out the breath you'd been holding. Dropping the charger on your nightstand, you collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Mind spinning, his expression when you lied about Jaemin, the pause before see you Monday. You groaned, pillow over your face. "Get it together." Then your phone buzzed.
Jaemin: you make it home?
You: yeah
Jaemin: good
You: thanks for checking
Jaemin: always. btw... why'd u ask if I was still at haechans place?
Even lying back in bed, charger plugged in, you weren't sure you believed yourself.
═════════════════════════
Monday morning hit harder than it should have. The office buzzed with post weekend chatter, keyboards clicking, the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air. You leaned against Jaemin's desk, low voicing commentary about the deadline rush when a familiar voice broke in.
"Hey."
You and Jaemin looked up. Haechan was standing there, casual as ever, hands shoved in his pockets.
"Hi." You said, carefully.
He tilted his head. "So... how was lunch?"
Your brows furrowed instantly, glancing at Jaemin who looked equally lost. Then it hit you like a punch to the chest... the lie. "Oh. Ohhh— lunch." You forced a smile, words tumbling out fast. "Yeah, with Jaemin. It was good, very... productive. Talked about personal, intimate stuff."
You shot Jaemin a look that screamed please catch on. He blinked, then grinned slow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, yeah. That lunch. She rejected me at that lunch, actually. Guess she doesn't like me like that."
Haechan's eyes flicked between the two of you, unreadable. Finally, he just nodded. "Okay." And with that, he walked off.
As soon as he was out of earshot, you leaned down toward Jaemin. "That's the best you could come up with?"
Jaemin raised his hands. "Hey, I was just trying to be a good wingman. He clearly thinks we've got something going on."
You swatted his chest. "It doesn't matter if he thinks that, because I don't want him."
Jaemin arched a brow. "Whatever you say. Why'd you need me as cover?"
You crossed your arms. "Because he asked me out to lunch and I needed an excuse to not go."
His eyes widened, impressed. "Wow, didn't think you had it in you."
"You keep acting like I like him—"
Your voice carried louder than you intended, cutting across the office. Haechan, at his desk, looked over immediately, his eyes caught yours. You froze. Jaemin, of course, smirked, covering his mouth with his hand. "That's why." He muttered.
"Cut it out." You said.
Before Jaemin could push further, Chenle burst into the aisle, clapping his hands together. "Guys, emergency. We need a song about cheating, like, right now. There's literally a meeting in three hours."
You blinked, still rattled. Across the room, Haechan's gaze flicked your way again before you tore yours off him. Chenle's eyes darted between you all. "Okay, who's taking lead? We need someone who can write some devastating, gut wrenching, heartbreak shit about getting cheated on in two hours."
The room went still. Slowly, every head turned toward you. You froze, heartbeat thundering in your ears.
Chenle frowned, looking around. "Uh... am I missing something?"
Renjun leaned toward him, whispering not nearly quiet enough. "I'll tell you later, but I think Y/n should take this one." And everyone heard.
Chenle straightened, blinking at you. "Alright then. Y/n? You wanna take lead?"
Every eye stayed on you as you swallowed hard. "...Sure."
"Perfect, I'll email you the file." Chenle said, already pulling out his phone.
As the group dispersed, your screen buzzed with the incoming assignment, but your thoughts weren't on the file. They were still tangled in the look Haechan had given you and the way Jaemin wouldn't stop grinning at your side. Two hours later, the team gathered around the long conference table. Laptops open, notepads scattered, half empty coffee cups. "All right." Renjun clapped once. "Y/n, you've got lead. Let's hear what you've got— first verse and chorus."
You cleared your throat, heart thudding, and pulled up the draft you'd written.
I held your words like gospel, every vow, every touch. You painted me a future, but it was all never enough. The nights I stayed believing, you were out getting drunk. And now I see the wreckage, even though you were the one I trust.
I trace the lines of memory, the good times and the bad. I searched for truth in shadows, but you were falling back. I begged the nights to save me, but the silence pulled me down. The love I thought was endless, is buried in the ground.
You promised me forever, but you gave it all away. I'm standing in the silence, with nothing left to say. I gave you all my pieces, but you let them fall and fade. You promised me forever... but forever couldn't stay.
The silence was thick over the room. Then, the scrape of a chair. Haechan pushed back from the table, jaw tight, storming out, the door slamming.
Hana blinked, glancing at the door. "...I should probably go check on him." She murmured, already rising.
Renjun's eyes cut to Jaemin, giving a small, firm nod.
Jaemin tapped your back gently. "Come on, let's get some fresh air."
You hesitated, staring at the door Haechan had just stormed through.
"C'mon." Jaemin pressed, voice low but steady.
As you stood to follow him, Chenle leaned toward Renjun with an exasperated sigh. "This is exactly why I don't support work romance. Makes everything messy."
That snapped something in you. You spun on your heel, voice sharp. "We aren't together, so it isn't a work romance. Your friend is just stuck in the past to the point he can't even be professional— when it was his fault. Talk to him, not Renjun."
The room went still again. Jaemin's hand closed gently, but firmly around your shoulder, steering you toward the door before you could say more.
"This is why you need to learn to keep your damn mouth shut." Renjun muttered to Chenle.
Outside, the air hit cooler. You paced a few steps before the words burst out. "Why does he get to act this way? When it was his fault? That shit hurt me too, but you don't see me causing chaos, you didn't see me crying at my desk, being dramatic. If anyone should be acting that way, it's me! Why does he get to feel entitled?"
Jaemin leaned back against the wall, hands in pockets, listening quietly. He sighed after a second. "Yeah, I get why you're upset. He probably didn't mean it like that though."
You stopped, eyes flashing. "Are you seriously taking his side right now? After all the shit he did to me? Jaem, you saw me. You saw the state he left me in."
"Yes I know, Y/n." His voice stayed calm. "And I'm not taking his side, you know that. I'm just saying— it was hard for both of you. You've gotta let him process his emotions his way."
You let out a shaky laugh, tears pricking hot in your eyes. "What the— what the fuck? Last time I let him 'process his emotions' he cheated on me." The words cracked, your voice breaking with them. Jaemin's jaw tightened as he stepped forward, arms opening.
You shook your head, trying to back away. "Don't. Don't—"
"Shut the fuck up and hug me." He said firmly, pulling you in before you could fight it.
Finally, you did. You buried your face in his shoulder, shoulders shaking as he held you. His hand smoothed over your back, steadily. "You told me it doesn't change anything now." He murmured. "And you're so strong for that, so mature, but he's different. You've been seeing each other every day after not seeing each other for years, after leaving off on a terrible note. You're still adjusting, it's gonna take time."
You sniffled, nodding against him. "...Yeah. You're right, it's not even that big of a deal."
"Exactly." Jaemin pulled back just enough to look at you. "You're right, don't let it get you shaken up."
You let out a watery laugh, swiping your cheeks. "Yeah, it's not even that serious."
"Not at all." He smiled softly. "I love you."
A smile tugged at your lips. "I love you too."
He reached up, wiping your tears with his thumb. When he pulled his hand back, his fingers were streaked with makeup. You both laughed, lighter than you should have. "Just like college." He teased.
You rolled your eyes, but smiled.
"You ready to head back in?" He asked gently.
You exhaled. "...A few more minutes."
He nodded. "Okay."
When you and Jaemin slipped back into the office, the room had shifted. Everyone was loitering in the hallway, voices low, tension still hanging in the air. Across the space, Haechan and Hana stood in the corner, talking quietly, heads tilted in toward each other. Renjun looked up from his laptop, and caught sight of you. "You good?" He called out.
You smiled, lifted your hands, and made a sloppy heart with your fingers. He huffed a laugh, shaking his head before turning back to his screen. Before you could settle in, Chenle appeared at your side and grabbed your hand, spinning you dramatically like you were on a dance floor. "Stop." You groaned, rolling your eyes, pulling your hand back.
Chenle's grin faded into something softer. "I'm sorry for making that comment earlier. I always joke in serious situations, but I shouldn't have. I feel bad, please don't quit."
You blinked at him, then let out a small laugh. "I'm not quitting and I accept your apology."
His shoulders sagged in relief, and he scurried back toward his desk. You made your way toward yours, finally about to sit, when Haechan walked up.
"Can we talk?" His voice was quieter than usual, careful.
You hesitated, eyes flicking instinctively toward Jaemin. He caught your look, mouthing: hear him out.
So you nodded. "Yeah."
The two of you stepped out into the hallway.
Haechan scratched the back of his neck, gaze on the floor before finding yours. "I'm so sorry for making a scene like that. I didn't realize it just... put the attention on you more."
You shrugged lightly. "It's fine."
"It's not fine." He said quickly, shaking his head. "You don't know how bad I feel about this whole thing. Us—"
Your eyes flicked past him, catching movement. Over his shoulder, Chenle, Renjun, and Hana were half stacked against the doorway, trying— and failing, to be discreet as they peeked out. Haechan stopped mid sentence, brow furrowing. "...They're watching us right now, aren't they?"
You pressed your lips together, then smiled giving a small nod.
He turned slightly, raising his voice. "You guys know we can see you, right?"
The three of them scrambled in a panic, tripping over each other to disappear. You and Haechan both burst into laughter.
"Yeah." He shook his head. "They always do stupid shit like that, don't mind them."
You grinned, tilting your head. "I should kiss you right now just to keep up the theatrics."
He froze, staring at you like he wasn't sure if you were serious.
You smirked. "Kidding... but I accept your apology, we should get back."
He nodded. "Yeah, let's go."
Together, you walked back into the room. The screen at the front lit up, the clock ticking closer to the top of the hour.
It was Friendsgiving. The living room was warm with laughter, food, and too many bottles of wine scattered across the table. Plates were licked clean, drinks poured heavy. Renjun had the bright idea of a "special" truth or dare game. The rules were simple enough: spin the bottle, pick truth or dare, answer or do it, or you're out for the round. Whoever survived the most rounds won a hundred bucks from the group fund.
It sounded easy, drunk logic made it sound like genius.
The first few rounds were harmless. Hana spun and it landed on Renjun. He picked dare.
"Eat one of those cold mashed potatoes with your hands only." Hana grinned.
Everyone screamed with laughter when Renjun clawed at the bowl like a raccoon, shoving potatoes into his mouth with ridiculous enthusiasm.
Next, Chenle got picked. Truth.
"Who in this room would you never trust with your secrets." Jaemin asked, eyes gleaming.
Chenle answered without hesitation. "Chenle. I'd snitch instantly."
It kept going— silly, sloppy, chaotic, with dares escalating to ridiculous levels.
Until the bottle landed on you. "Truth." You sipped your drink with false confidence.
Chenle leaned forward, smile too mischievous. "Okay. How many bodies you got, name each one."
Groans filled the room. Hana yelled, "We're not in high school, Chenle."
But everyone leaned in anyway, the energy electric. You sighed, setting your glass down. "Fine. I'm sure it's not a secret anymore, Haechan." You glanced at him quickly, his eyes unreadable. "My old situationship, Jisung." Another pause, your throat tightened as your hand rubbed your forehead. Your eyes slid toward Jaemin. He was already staring at you. Calm, but with a faint glimmer of mischief.
Renjun caught it immediately. "No."
You exhaled, then said it anyway. "...Jaemin."
The room erupted.
"Whaaaat." Hana shouted, eyes wide, hands flying to her face.
Chenle jumped up, clapping like he'd just witnessed a magic trick.
Jaemin raised his hands defensively. "It happened a long time ago and it will never happen again."
"Wait, kiss right now. I'm tryna see something." Chenle demanded, grin wicked.
Everyone laughed, egging it on, leaning into it.
Jaemin shot you a look, then smirked. "Yeah. She can fuck really well, just in case you were curious."
You flexed your arm like you were posing, the room going hysterical again. Then Haechan's voice cut through lowly.
"...Yeah. I agree."
Everyone's laughter fell, the air shifting slightly. You froze, eyes darting to him. It was Chenle who broke the silence. Laugh bursting loud and obnoxious, infectious. The room cracked, laughter returning like a wave.
The bottle spun again and it landed on Haechan. You perked up. "Truth or dare."
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression guarded. "Truth."
You squinted, challenging him. "Alright then. How many bodies do you have?"
Hana groaned. "Boring."
"Um... four." His voice casual, defensive underneath.
Chenle squinted, drunker than everyone else. "Stop lying, you know it's only one. You said it's one, which is really weird. How is it one if you cheated? Wait, did you and Y/n not fu—"
SMACK. Renjun's hand hit the back of Chenle's head. "You fucking idiot. He probably doesn't count the one he cheated on her with."
Hana cackled, clapping. "Like on some sentimental lover boy shit, I guess."
Everyone was rolling with laughter except you, Jaemin, and Haechan. Jaemin clapped his hands loudly. "The game."
The bottle spun again, dares escalating further. The rounds blurred, each spin faster, each dare more chaotic.
Hana spun and it landed on you. "Dare."
She grinned wickedly. "Kiss Haechan."
The laughter turned to hollers, everyone leaning in.
Your chest tightened. "Naw, I'm not tryna kiss anyone. I'm out."
Boos filled the room, but the bottle moved on.
Later, Renjun spun and it landed on you again. "Dare."
"I dare you to kiss Chenle."
Jaemin laughed first. "She just said she didn't wanna kiss anyone."
You snorted, cheeks warm. "Naw, it's cool."
Chenle straightened up. "Yep. She said it's cool, it's cool."
"He just wants to kiss her." Someone yelled.
Still— you leaned in. Playful at first, then the alcohol, the closeness, and the noise tipped it over. Chenle's hand slid to your neck, your lips moved against his with heat that made your head spin.
"Alright, that's enough." Jaemin pulled you apart, face stern.
Chenle, grinning, wiped his mouth. "Lowkey, we gotta go to the room now."
The laughter rolled again, loud and messy.
The bottle landed on Haechan next. Before you could react, he shook his head firmly. "I don't want to play anymore, I'm tired. Calling it a night."
You could see the tension in his jaw, the slight dip in his shoulders. He was angry, not at anyone else— at himself, at you, or maybe at the whole ridiculous situation.
"Aww. Boo." Hana whined.
Chenle stood up, wobbling. "After party at my house."
"No." Jaemin said quickly, voice firm. "We should all call it a night before we end up with more awkward interactions at work Monday, other than Chenle and Y/n when they realize what they did drunk."
You laughed, cheeks hot. "I'll come." Your voice flirty, careless.
Jaemin slid an arm around your shoulders immediately. "Nope, you're coming with me. You're going home."
You wriggled against him. "Jaemin, why are you always cockblocking?"
Chenle lifted his hand, mimicking your whine. "Yeah, why are you always cockblocking?"
You and Chenle doubled over, cracking up together. Jaemin froze, face twisting with disgust. He shook his head, firmly. "Yeah, you're coming with me. I have to babysit you tonight."
Before you could protest, he led you toward the door, his grip tight. You stumbled into Jaemin's place, shoes kicked off somewhere in the hallway. He disappeared into his room, rifling through drawers. He tossed a bundle of clothes at you. "Put these on."
You glanced down. An old hoodie you'd left at his place ages ago and basketball shorts. You smirked. "Didn't know you kept my stuff in your drawer."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just get changed before you pass out in those gross beer stained jeans."
Instead of hiding away, you peeled your shirt off right in front of him, slipping into the hoodie slowly.
His eyes flicked once, then he snapped his head to the side. "Nope." He said loudly, shaking his head. "Nope, nope, nope. We are not doing this again."
You laughed, tugging the shorts up and giving him a flirty look. "Relax, I wasn't even—"
"Yeah, you were." His voice firm, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Always do this when you're drunk. Just like you did tonight with Chenle." He paused, studying you. "But not Haechan... interesting."
Your laughter spilled out awkward, waving it off. "Chenle's a friend."
Jaemin stilled, smile slipping off his face. "...Is Haechan not?"
The air shifted as his eyes locked on yours. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"
You hesitated, words caught in your throat before you tilted your head, smirk returning like a shield. "Yeah, that you're chopped."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. A reluctant smile appearing on his face. "You're an idiot, lay down."
You grinned, slipping under the covers. The warmth of the hoodie swallowing you, he pulled the blanket over you, muttering about babysitting. Your eyes fluttered shut, his presence steady beside you. Within minutes, you were asleep.
═════════════════════════
December 1st.
It was a late afternoon that Chenle spun around in his chair, grinning like he'd just cracked some secret code. "Alright, listen up. Work trip, December 29th through January 2nd, paid for, all of us. Don't even try to say no."
Hana perked up immediately, pulling her headphones off. "Wait, where?"
"Resort upstate. Like cabins, snow, all that." Chenle rattled off, practically bouncing in his seat. "We get paid to chill. Tell me that is not the best news you've heard all week?"
Renjun leaned back, unimpressed. "Paid to freeze my ass off, amazing."
Jaemin grinned, throwing a pen at him. "You'll survive. Think of it as a team building thing."
You raised your brows, chewing on your lip. "So, we all have to go."
"Not have to." Hana said, already pulling up the trip details on her phone. "But you would be crazy not to."
"I do not know." You admitted, tugging on your sweater sleeves. "That is right after the holidays, I might just stay home."
"Booooo." Chenle drew the word out dramatically. "No way, you cannot ditch us."
Renjun smirked. "She's scared."
"I am not scared." You shot back quickly.
"Then come." Hana challenged, eyes glittering like she knew exactly how to trap you.
You groaned, leaning back in your chair. "Why are you guys like this?"
"Because it's fun." Jaemin said, grinning. "Come on. We'll all be there, you don't even have to think. Just pack warm clothes and vibe."
Across the table, Haechan spoke for the first time, his voice low. "It's really not that deep. You should just come."
The way he said it— calm, almost certain, made you pause. His eyes flicked to yours for a split second before dropping back to his notebook, like he hadn't said anything at all.
You sighed, grabbing the pen Jaemin had thrown earlier and twirling it in your hand. "Fine, whatever. I'll go."
Chenle threw his hands up in victory. "YES! That's what I'm talking about."
Hana leaned over to nudge you, grinning. "You won't regret it."
Renjun laughed. "She will, but at least we'll all regret it together."
The group dissolved into laughter, the trip already becoming the only thing anyone wanted to talk about. Dates, outfits, playlists— it was all fair game.
And though you rolled your eyes at their energy, a small part of you couldn't help but feel it too.
By the time the clock hit six, Hana was already packing up.
"Drinks!" She announced, sliding her bag over her shoulder. "All of us, no excuses."
Chenle was instantly in. "Finally, someone said it. Let's go."
Even Renjun, who normally dragged his feet about everything didn't argue. Within the hour, you were crammed around a high table at a dimly lit bar a few blocks away. Jackets were tossed on the backs of chairs.
The group energy loosened quickly, Chenle got louder and Jaemin kept making side comments that cracked Hana up.
At one point, Jaemin leaned over and pointed a finger at you. "Truth, when was the last time you went on a date?"
You scoffed. "Not this again."
"It's been months, has it not?" Hana teased, eyes narrowed.
You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink to dodge answering. That's when Haechan cut in, smirking from where he sat across the table. "Bet it's more recent than Jaemin's."
Everyone turned on Jaemin instantly, who choked on his beer. "Hey, what?"
"Exactly." Haechan said, leaning back smug. "Too busy flirting with the waitress to actually get anywhere."
The table laughed, and you caught yourself laughing too, head tilted back. When your eyes flicked up, Haechan was already looking at you, checking if you thought it was funny.
Later, when Chenle insisted on telling an outrageous story about his neighbor's cat, you and Haechan ended up side eyeing each other every time Chenle got more dramatic. By the third exaggerated detail, you were both holding back laughter. Haechan muttered just loud enough for you to hear. "This man is insane."
You grinned, whispering back. "You're just realizing that now?"
It was small, but it felt different. Like the sharp edges between you two were starting to smooth out.
The night stretched on, drinks emptied, and eventually Hana and Renjun started arguing over who was more responsible to call the rides. You stood up to help herd everyone together. Without thinking too hard, you nudged Haechan's shoulder as he passed you. "Team effort." You joked.
He gave you a look that almost counted as a smile. "Guess so."
By the time you got everyone out the door, the air was cold. Breaths were visible as you all split off toward cars. Chenle was still talking, Jaemin still teasing, Hana rolling her eyes.
And you realized you hadn't thought once tonight about things being weird with Haechan.
═════════════════════════
December 19th
The week before Christmas carried a weird kind of energy— half of the office already checked out, the other half buzzing with that end of year excitement. You sat at your desk, pretending to focus on emails when really you were eavesdropping on Chenle and Renjun arguing about who was packing the worst outfits for the trip.
"It's a ski resort, not a fashion show." Renjun said.
"You're lying if you think I'm showing up without a look." Chenle shot back, spinning lazily in his chair. "Snow boots can be sexy."
Hana laughed from her desk. "You're going to slip on ice in those boots, and we'll have to carry you back to the cabin."
"Worth it." Chenle grinned, leaning back with his hands behind his head.
The chatter had been nonstop since they got confirmation about the trip. Three nights away, all expenses paid, cabins in the mountains. It sounded like a dream, even though part of you still wasn't sure if you were ready to spend that much uninterrupted time with everyone— including him.
"Y/n, you packed yet?" Jaemin leaned over your desk with a smile that was too bright, clearly scheming. His eyes flicked to Haechan across the room briefly before returning to you.
You shook your head. "Didn't even officially decide if I'm going."
The whole room groaned in unison, like you'd just personally ruined Christmas.
"Don't do that." Hana said, pointing at you. "You're going, you already said yes."
"I said maybe." You corrected, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.
Chenle jumped in, throwing his hands up like a conductor orchestrating. "No, no, no, there is no maybe, you're coming. Who else is going to balance out Renjun's depressing jokes when we're stuck in the snow?"
"Excuse me." Renjun said, unfazed.
"Please." Hana added, leaning closer, eyes bright. "It'll be fun. No work, no deadlines, just drinking hot chocolate and watching Chenle make a fool of himself on skis."
"Fine, I'll go." You said, rolling your eyes.
A cheer erupted across the office. Chenle threw his arms up triumphantly, Renjun smirked like he'd secretly won a small victory, and Hana clapped with the intensity of a Broadway audience. You rolled your eyes but laughed anyway.
Then Jaemin clapped his hands together like a coach calling a huddle. "Alright, if we're all locked in, I have another idea. Secret Santa."
"Last minute?" Hana raised a brow, tilting her head. "You know half of us are leaving town this weekend."
"That's the fun of it." Jaemin said, leaning against his desk with that grin that always made it impossible to say no. "We'll buy gifts, small ones, nothing crazy, and then exchange them on the trip. Easy."
"Sounds cute." Chenle admitted, though you caught the way he looked suspicious, already scheming behind that grin.
Renjun rolled his eyes. "I already know Chenle's gift will be stupid."
"Creative." Chenle corrected, fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully. "You'll see, pure genius."
Jaemin dug around in a drawer and came up with a crumpled beanie. "Okay, names in a hat, let's go."
Hana scribbled everyone down, ripped the papers, and tossed them in. One by one, you all drew names, careful not to show anyone.
You peeked at yours and almost laughed out loud. Chenle... of course. His smirk only widened when your eyes met his for a brief second, like he already had a plan brewing. You quickly folded yours back up before anyone could read your expression, heart thumping with a mix of amusement and mild dread.
The conversations picked up again, plans about Christmas, guesses about the trip, Hana insisting she was bringing board games while Renjun pretended to groan. Through it all, Haechan sat across the room, quiet but relaxed, his chair tilted back, arms crossed loosely, a smile ghosting his lips as he listened. Every so often, his gaze flicked toward you subtly, like he was keeping tabs without intruding. When your eyes met his, just for a second, he looked away like it didn't matter.
But it did.
Even from across the room, the small shift in his demeanor caught you. Not quite playful, not quite serious, just something in between that made your chest tighten. You ducked your gaze, pretending to check your phone, but the awareness lingered.
The rest of the office talked, but you couldn't shake the feeling of his quiet attention. Even the rowdy energy around you seemed to fade just a little when Haechan was watching.
═════════════════════════
December 29th
The station was filled with travelers when you finally showed up, bag dragging behind you. Everyone else was already gathered by the bus, bundled in coats, half awake but had the kind of energy only a trip could bring.
"There she is." Chenle clapped like you'd just won something. "Last but not least."
"Barely made it." Jaemin said, though he was already holding up his camera, snapping a photo of you mid eye roll.
You groaned. "Delete that."
"Not a chance." He grinned.
The driver waved you all inside, and the scramble for seats started. Hana and Jaemin slid into the very back together, Renjun staked out a spot by the window, and Chenle was already sprawled across an aisle seat, patting the empty spot next to him.
Which, unfortunately, left the seat between him and Haechan.
Great.
You squeezed in, setting your bag on your lap. Chenle immediately leaned in. "This is prime real estate, best seat on the bus."
"Only because you took it first." You shot back.
Haechan smirked faintly, eyes on the window. "Don't let him trick you, he just didn't want anyone else sitting next to him."
Chenle gasped. "You wound me."
That kicked off a back and forth between them, most of which blurred into background noise as the bus rumbled on. Jaemin was across the aisle leaning into Hana, snapping pics of everyone. Renjun groaned every time the flash went off, which only encouraged him more.
You sank into your seat, letting yourself smile, nerves loosening as the miles stretched ahead.
Eventually, Chenle's attention drifted toward Renjun, leaving you and Haechan in your own corner.
"You look tired." He said, voice low enough you almost missed it.
You glanced over. "Thanks?"
"No, not like that." He ran a hand through his hair, laughing softly. "Just... long week?"
You nodded. "Yeah, but this'll be good."
"Yeah." He said it like he meant it. His eyes flicked to yours, then back to the window, the conversation falling.
The ride blurred past with stories, bad jokes, and Chenle's loud commentary about roadside diners. By the time the bus slowed and the mountains rose up around you, the whole group was smiling again, voices overlapping as you all piled out with your bags.
The cabin sat tucked into the trees, smoke curling from the chimney, lights glowing warm against the snow. It was almost like a storybook, until you got inside.
The main space was open and cozy, wood beams overhead, couches and a fireplace anchoring the room. It smelled faintly of pine and something sweet, maybe cinnamon.
Until Jaemin came back from exploring. "So... there's only two bedrooms, and a pull out couch."
The chaos started immediately.
"Two rooms?!" Chenle practically shouted. "We're six people."
Renjun groaned, already rubbing his temples. "I'm taking the couch."
"Not if I call it first." Chenle bumped his shoulder.
You scanned the room, stomach dropping. Jaemin was laughing with Hana, already half locked into a room if you were being a good friend. Chenle was bickering with Haechan, both loud, both stubborn. You shook your head immediately, no way you were rooming with that, but you also didn't want to sleep on the couch.
Your eyes landed on Renjun. "Wanna share?"
He froze, then shrugged helplessly. "I kind of... want the couch."
Which left... You turned slowly to where Haechan and Chenle were mid argument.
"—you snore, dude."
"I don't snore, shut up."
You cleared your throat. "Haechan, want to share a room?"
The whole cabin went silent.
Haechan blinked, stunned, then nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds cool."
Chenle's face split into a grin as he slung an arm around Renjun. "Guess it's us on the couch, buddy."
Renjun's eyes went wide. "Nope. No, Y/n, I'll take the room with you."
Before you could answer, Haechan let out a laugh. "Nope. Can't switch now, too late."
Hana stepped in, looking at you with concern. "We can just share, if you want. Seriously."
You shook your head, forcing a smile. "It's fine, really." Then you glanced at Jaemin, as he mouthed, "you're the best".
Bags thudded onto the floor, everyone splitting up to settle in. And just like that, you and Haechan were sharing four walls.
The room was smaller than you expected— one bed pressed against the wall, a nightstand on each side, one small window looking out at the slope of snow covered trees. Cozy, but not exactly spacious.
You dropped your bag on the bed and sat down, testing the springs. It creaked under your weight, which made you laugh. "Not bad."
Haechan hovered by the door for a second, like he wasn't sure if he should really come in before shrugging, shutting it behind him as he set his bag on the ground.
For a moment it was quiet... too quiet. The sound of muffled voices carried from the main room, Chenle already being way too loud, Renjun groaning about it.
You leaned back on your hands. "Guess we're roommates now."
Haechan glanced up, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. "Yeah, didn't see that coming."
"Me neither." You laughed softly. "Could've been worse though."
He raised an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Worse how?"
"You know exactly how." You said, giving him a look.
He laughed, like it slipped past before he could stop it. He leaned back on his palms, mirroring your posture. "Alright, fair."
"You still snore?" You asked suddenly.
He looked offended. "No, do you?"
"You know I don't, unless I'm cold."
"Well, it should be fine."
You smiled, feeling the strange ease creeping in. A few months ago you couldn't even look at him without your chest tightening. Now, sitting on the same bed as him, it felt different.
A shout from the living room broke through the quiet— Chenle daring Jaemin to shotgun a soda. You both groaned at the same time, then glanced at each other, laughing.
"Should probably go stop them before they blow something up." You said, standing.
Haechan nodded, grabbing his hoodie. "Yeah."
The living room smelled faintly of snow every time someone opened the front door. The six of you had settled in around the big, battered coffee table after a minor war about what to do first.
"Secret Santa tonight!" Chenle had insisted, grinning like he'd been planning the big reveal for weeks.
"Nope, we should save it. Suspense builds character, you'll thank me later." Jaemin said, with a smile.
Chenle tossed a pillow at him, which Jaemin dodged with a cackle. "You just didn't buy your gift yet." He accused.
"Details, details." Jaemin said, flopping onto the couch with his phone.
Everyone laughed, and soon the decision was made— pizza, cheap drinks from the corner store, and no responsibilities until tomorrow.
The food arrived, Hana had claimed the aux, playing a mix of throwbacks that had Jaemin singing obnoxiously loud and Chenle hyping him up like they were on stage. Renjun, meanwhile, was three beers in and telling a story about his childhood, making you laugh so hard you had to set your drink down.
Eventually, the empty boxes and cans scattered the table, and tipsiness settled in your limbs. One by one, people started dragging themselves toward bed, still laughing and teasing even as they stumbled down the short hall.
Your room was darker than the living room, shadows stretching long across the floor from the single lamp. You slipped into bed, tugging the blankets up, when Haechan's voice broke the quiet.
"Sharing a bed." He murmured, his tone halfway between teasing and something softer. "Never thought this would happen again."
You turned your head on the pillow, glaring across the space between you. "Don't start."
He smirked faintly, but didn't push it. He turned onto his side, backs facing each other, leaving only the sound of the house settling and the faint wind outside.
And then— crunch.
You frowned, ears straining. Another crunch.
Rolling over, you squinted into the dark. "Are you eating chips in bed?"
"No." His voice was low, guilty, and oddly amused.
The sound came again, unmistakable. You sat up halfway. "Wait—" You gasped, a laugh breaking free. "Oh my god, you still watch that shit?"
Haechan's shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh too loudly. "Of course. Some people meditate, I prefer asmr."
You buried your face in your pillow, laughing harder than you meant to. "You're unbelievable."
"Relax, it's art." He said, grinning, his voice carrying through the dark.
The laughter faded eventually, leaving only the quiet again, drifting towards sleep with the sound of faint crunching still playing through his phone.
═════════════════════════
December 30th
The smell of coffee was the first thing that dragged you awake. That, and the faint rumble of voices from the kitchen. You blinked against the light spilling in through the window, stretching until your joints popped.
Beside you, Haechan was still out, arm slung over his face, breathing steady. The memory of last night— the crunching, the stupid asmr joke, pulled a small smile onto your lips before you slipped out of bed quietly.
The cabin's main room was already alive. Hana stood at the counter whisking something in a bowl while Jaemin crouched by the coffee maker. Chenle sat at the table scrolling through his phone with bedhead sticking in every direction, and Renjun was trying to toast bread without burning it.
"Morning." You said.
"Morning!" Hana responded, too bright for the hour.
Jaemin looked up from his mug, a smirk tugging at his lips. "How was your night, Haechans roomie?"
You shot him a look as you grabbed a mug. "Don't start."
Chenle glanced up, catching on instantly. "Ohhh, right. You and Haechan. Same bed?" His grin was wicked, eyes gleaming with mischief.
You groaned, pouring yourself coffee. "It wasn't like that."
"Sure." Renjun said dryly, not even looking up from his toast.
"Hey, what are we talking about?" Haechan's voice came from the hall, as he padded in, hair a mess.
"Nothing." You said quickly, sipping your coffee.
Hana smirked but let it go, turning back to her bowl. "We've got eggs, toast, and cereal. Take your pick."
Breakfast was fun— Chenle stealing bites off everyone's plates, Jaemin snapping photos of people mid bite, Renjun making sarcastic commentary that only made it harder not to laugh. By the end, your stomach hurt more from laughing than the food.
Afterward, everyone scattered to get ready. The cabin turned into noise of zippers and clunky boots, ski jackets being tugged on, scarves thrown over shoulders. Jaemin was filming again, catching Chenle complaining dramatically about his boots being "designed for dying" while Hana tried to braid her hair by the door.
"Have you skied since... you know?" Haechan asked, appearing at your side as you laced up your boots.
"No." you admitted, tugging at the knot. "I'll probably eat shit."
He smirked. "I'll make sure you don't."
You gave him a skeptical look. "You? Help me?"
"I'm basically a pro." He said straight faced, which only made you laugh.
"Yeah, okay. I remember you falling just as much."
When everyone finally tumbled outside, the cold hit, snow crunching under your boots as you made your way toward the lifts. The mountains rose high in the distance, white and glittering under the morning sun.
"Alright." Jaemin said, swinging his camera around his neck. "Who's ready to watch Y/n fall on her ass?"
Chenle whooped, already running toward the lift line like a kid. "Race you losers to the top."
The ski lift clanked as it carried you all upward, the cold air biting at your cheeks. Jaemin leaned forward in his seat, camera poised even now, snapping shots of Chenle pretending to fall off the side for "the drama."
"Sit your ass down." Screamed from his lift, tugging him back by his jacket.
"Relax." Chenle laughed. "If I fall, it'll be a legendary shot."
"Legendary funeral, maybe." Renjun said.
You sat stiffly beside Haechan, gripping the safety bar a little too tightly as the ground dropped farther away. Haechan glanced at your hands, then at your face, a slow grin spreading across his lips.
"You nervous?" He asked, voice just loud enough for you to hear.
"No." You lied, staring straight ahead.
"Mmm, sure." His tone was smug, and when you turned to glare, he was already looking back at the mountain like he hadn't said anything at all.
The top was worse— steep, endless white stretching down into the trees. Hana clicked into her skis with ease, while Chenle just took off without hesitation, yelling something about meeting at the bottom.
"Does he even know how to stop?" You asked, squinting after him.
"Nope." Jaemin said cheerfully, raising his camera. "But it makes for great footage."
One by one, they all started down. You stayed frozen at the top, knees locked, staring at the slope like it was about to swallow you.
"You planning to stand here all day?" Haechan asked from beside you, already balanced easily on his skis.
"I'm just... psyching myself up." You muttered.
He laughed under his breath. "Alright, come on."
Before you could protest, he nudged his ski lightly against yours, moving you forward. The slope tilted, gravity caught you, and suddenly you were moving, panic flaring in your chest.
"Lean, not stiff!" He called, gliding effortlessly beside you.
"I am leaning!" You shouted back, but then your balance wobbled and your skis crossed. You went down hard, snow exploding around you as you tumbled.
When you finally stopped, you were sprawled flat on your back, staring up at the sky. The sound of laughter reached you, and you didn't even have to look to know it was Haechan.
"Oh my god." You groaned, flopping an arm over your face.
"You lasted, what, ten seconds?" He said, crouching next to you. His cheeks were red from the cold, eyes bright with amusement.
"Typically me, huh?" You said, your gaze not averting from the bright sky.
He paused, eyes squinting slightly as the joke processed in his head. "I'm gonna act like you didn't just say that."
"Shut up. I didn't say anything."
"Need help?" He asked, voice softer now.
You peeked at him from under your arm, suspicious. "You're not gonna let me fall again, are you?"
He smirked. "No promises."
Still, you took his hand. His glove was rough against yours as he pulled you upright with a strength that startled you. For a second, you were closer than you meant to be— faces inches apart, his breath misting white in the cold air. The world felt quieter, like the mountain had pressed pause.
Then Jaemin's voice rang out, camera flashing. "OHHH, this is gold!"
You jumped back, nearly slipping again.
The rest of the run was a blur— Hana weaving gracefully down the slope, Chenle wiping out spectacularly into a snowbank, Renjun skiing like he'd been born doing it, and Jaemin documenting every second like a menace.
By the time you all reached the bottom, your legs burned, your face hurt from smiling, and your jacket was half covered in snow.
"That." Chenle panted, throwing himself into the snow like it was a bed. "Was amazing! Again."
"Again?" You groaned. "I barely survived once."
Haechan smirked at you as he slid past. "Don't worry, I'll babysit."
You scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at his back.
He didn't even flinch, just turned his head, grinning at you like he'd been waiting for it.
Dinner was chaotic, as always. Six half drunk voices overlapping, pizza boxes spread across the table, Jaemin's camera on the counter catching blurry snapshots every time someone waved it around. Chenle was already on his third beer, insisting the pepperoni slice he dropped on the floor was still "perfectly good."
Renjun had suggested that you all go outside to the fire pit and by the time you all stumbled outside, the mountain air was cold against your skin and there it was— a hot tub, steaming, glowing faintly under the porch lights.
"Oops." Jaemin said, tugging at the hem of his shirt as he kicked off his shoes. "Forgot to mention I did see this earlier."
"Forgot." Renjun repeated flatly, already climbing in with a sigh that sounded too satisfied for someone who'd just spent hours skiing.
"Strategic forgetting." Hana muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest once she was in.
None of you had bathing suits, so it was just shirts and shorts sticking awkwardly to your skin, fabric heavy and warm once you sank into the bubbling water.
The noise carried on for a while— Chenle egging Hana into chugging her drink, Jaemin teasing Renjun until Renjun splashed him, everyone laughing loud enough that it probably echoed into the trees, but eventually, the drinks and the day caught up with everyone.
Hana slipped out first, muttering something about not wanting to turn into a prune. Chenle followed soon after, half dragged by Renjun who swore he was going to fall asleep face first in the water.
And then it was just the three of you. The water bubbled and popped, mist rising into the cold night. You leaned back against the side, head tilted up at the stars. Jaemin rubbed at his eyes, yawning as he pushed himself up.
"Alright, I'm calling it. Gonna crash before I drown."
"Good night." You said, lazy smile tugging at your lips.
Jaemin squinted at you. "Oh, you're not coming?"
You shook your head. "I'm good here."
He raised a brow, then glanced at Haechan before smirking like he knew something. "Suit yourself."
And then he was gone, leaving just the sound of water and the faint hum of the night.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was just there.
"So." Haechan finally said, voice low over the bubbles. "You're still obsessed with hot tubs?"
You laughed, tipping your head toward him. "Of course."
He smirked, leaning an arm on the edge. "You used to drag me to them all the time."
You rolled your eyes. "You know that's not true, Hae. Don't lie, you wanted to go just as bad as me."
He froze like you'd caught him off guard, eyes widening a little. "Hae?"
You blinked at him. "What?"
His grin tugged slow and genuine. "Haven't heard that in years."
"Don't start with that blast from the past shit." You warned, already laughing.
"No, I'm serious." He said, his voice warming. "You used to say it while pinching my cheeks. Like—" He reached toward you, fingers hovering like he might actually do it. "I could pinch your cheeks right now."
You laughed louder, swatting his hand. "No, I'll pinch yours." You reached for him, fingers brushing his jaw as he jerked back, still grinning.
Then it hit both of you at the same time— the pause, the silence after the laughter, the realization of how close you'd leaned in. The water bubbled between you, filling the space you'd left when you sat back.
After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Can't believe we only have a day left. Company's so stingy, could've given us at least a week."
You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Or two."
His grin widened. "Exactly, you get me."
You shook your head again, softer this time, smiling. "You're funny."
His eyebrows shot up. "I am?"
"Yeah, you are."
His tone dropped just a little. "You've never told me that. Like... ever."
You squinted at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "You know it's the alcohol talking, right?"
"Figured." He said with a shrug.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." He replied.
After a moment, he pushed himself upright. "We should head to bed."
You nodded, sinking deeper once more before finally standing. "Yeah, you're right."
The air hit you coldly, your shirt clinging to your skin as you stepped out. You didn't look at him when he grabbed his towel, and he didn't look at you either, but somehow the space between you still felt louder than it should've.
═════════════════════════
December 31st (New years eve)
Chenle was leaning too far back on the edge of his chair, beer in hand, cheeks already flushed.
"Secret Santa." He announced suddenly, nearly spilling on himself. "Right now."
Everyone groaned, but he was already scrambling to grab his. "C'mon, c'mon, it's perfect. New Year's Eve gifts before the New Year."
No one had the energy to argue. Half laughing as you all piled in the living room, digging around for the bags and boxes you'd hidden earlier. The presents were ridiculous— Renjun got a pack of fuzzy socks with cartoon faces, Hana got a keychain shaped like a rubber chicken, Jaemin got a kid's snow globe.
You were still laughing when Haechan nudged a small box toward you. "Yours."
You blinked. "You had me?"
He nodded, casual on the outside, but his eyes gave him away... nervous, watching you too closely.
You tore the wrapping open and froze. Inside were little things you hadn't thought about in years— your favorite lip balm brand from high school, a silly pen you used to doodle with, a small notebook with sunflowers on the cover. Things he shouldn't have remembered, but somehow did.
"Wait." You said softly, smiling before you even realized it. "Oh my god. Aw, thanks, Haechan."
He just shrugged, pretending like it was nothing, but the tips of his ears were red.
Everyone was too busy clowning on Chenle's gift to Renjun— the socks two sizes too big.
Midnight crept closer, drinks still in hand, and when someone shouted, "Five minutes!" everyone scrambled to their feet.
You counted down together, laughter spilling over the numbers, Jaemin's camera flashing one last time before the room erupted at zero.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Chenle screamed it like a war cry. Renjun and Hana clinked glasses. Jaemin leaned in toward Hana, hesitating for half a second before kissing her.
Everyone yelled, cheering like it was a sports win. Even you shouted, raising your drink in the air, but your smile felt a little thinner around the edges.
Later, the cabin was quieter, voices dulled with exhaustion. You padded toward the laundry room to grab your shorts, tugging open the dryer door, only to find them damp and cold in your hands.
"Chenle!" You called. "Did you not start the dryer?"
He peeked around the corner. "I swear I did, my bad."
You sighed, holding up the useless fabric.
"My stuff was in there too." Haechan said from behind you. He shrugged, like it was whatever. "Wanna wait it out?"
You shook your head. "Honestly, I just want to lay down."
He nodded once. "Cool. I've got an extra shirt if you need it."
That's how you ended up back in your room, climbing under the blanket in nothing but your underwear and his shirt. It hung loose on you, smelling faintly of him, the cotton soft against your skin.
He settled in beside you, pulling the covers up. For a while, it was just the sound of the heater clicking in the corner.
"That was crazy." He said finally.
You turned your head toward him. "What?"
"Hana and Jaemin."
You shrugged. "Not really."
His eyes flicked toward you. "You didn't seem too thrilled to see your best friend kissing someone else."
You sat up halfway, turning to face him. "Huh?"
He smirked faintly. "You make the same face when you're jealous."
"I am not jealous of them." You said, shoving at his shoulder.
He laughed quietly, then stopped. "Well, you know I'm jealous." The air shifted when he said it, softly.
You blinked at him. "Why are you jealous?"
His gaze lingered on the ceiling for a second before flicking back to you. "I can't tell you because it's not gonna change anything."
You tilted your head, voice low. "How do you know that?"
He let out a short laugh. "Because I know."
You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips.
He paused. "I wanted to kiss someone I loved tonight, like him."
The words cracked something in you. You exhaled, steadying yourself before answering. "Yeah, me too."
His brows furrowed, eyes searching yours. "Who do you love?"
You held his gaze, heart thudding. "Who do you love?"
The air snapped between you and then he leaned in, lips meeting yours. The kiss was slow at first, unsure, until it wasn't. Until everything you'd been avoiding poured out in the press of his lips and the slide of his hand at your jaw. Until it felt like nothing else mattered except this— him, here, finally.
The second kiss was nothing like the first. It wasn't cautious, wasn't testing. It was hungry, rushed, like you'd both been holding your breath for years. His hand immediately slid up the back of your neck, pulling you deeper, closer, while your fingers twisted in his shirt.
Before you realized what you were doing, you shifted, swinging one leg over his lap until you were straddling him. His back pressed harder against the headboard, his hands gripping your hips tight like he wasn't sure you'd let him keep you there.
Your chest brushed against his with every inhale, every half gasp you made between kisses. His lips trailed down to your jaw, then lower, dragging across your throat. The first graze of his teeth made you tilt your head back, a low sound slipping out before you could stop it.
"God." He whispered against your skin, voice filled with heat. "I missed this... missed you."
You shivered at the admission, but instead of answering, you pushed his head down closer to your neck, urging him. He didn't need more convincing— he went in desperately, kissing, sucking, biting lightly, leaving you raw. Your nails raked his shoulders, digging in every time his tongue traced your pulse.
It was too much, not enough. You tugged at his hair and pulled him back up to your lips, devouring him until you were both gasping. You dragged your mouth down his jaw, to his throat.
The sound he made when you latched onto his neck nearly undid you— low, guttural, the kind of noise that made your stomach flip. His grip on your hips tightened until you were grinding against him without even thinking. He let out a breathless laugh, cut off by another groan as you nipped at his collarbone.
His hand slid under your shirt to feel the warm skin of your back. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"
You smirked against his skin, pressing a softer kiss to the spot you'd just bitten. "Maybe."
But then he tilted your face up again, crashing his mouth onto yours like he couldn't stand another second without it. The kiss was everything— messy, deep, too much tongue, your bodies pressed together so tightly it hurt, but neither of you cared.
Every kiss, every gasp, every bruise blooming under your mouths was years of anger, hurt, and longing unraveling in the only way it could.
The way you were moving against him, there was no pretending anymore. Every grind of your hips drew another groan from him, another sharp gasp from you. The bed creaked under the weight of both of you pressed so close, neither willing to let go.
Haechan's hands slipped fully under your shirt like he'd been dying for the chance, palms hot and trembling as they roamed up, then down again, like he was memorizing you all over again. You shivered when his fingertips grazed the bare skin at your waist.
"Can I—?" He whispered against your lips, already tugging at the hem.
You didn't answer. You just lifted your arms, and he pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before kissing you so hard. His hands found your bare sides, sliding up your ribs, thumbs brushing just under your chest, lingering.
You pulled at his hoodie, clumsy and desperate, and he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it off. His skin was warm, his chest rising and falling as he stared at you—wide eyed and hungry.
"Fuck." He breathed, running his hand over your shoulder, down your arm, then gripping your thigh.
You leaned down, dragging your mouth across his neck again, licking into the dip of his collarbone. He cursed under his breath, head tipping back, exposing more of his throat. The sound of him made you ache.
Your hips shifted, and suddenly you could feel him, hard beneath the thin barrier of your underwear. The friction sent a jolt through both of you, and you gasped into his mouth when his hands clutched your ass, grinding you down harder.
The kiss turned sloppy, as you pulled at the waistband of his sweats without thinking, his own hand already sliding under your underwear, fingertips brushing over the thin fabric, teasing until you were trembling in his lap.
"Hae—" You moaned into his mouth, breaking the kiss with a shudder.
He pushed your underwear down in a rough motion, dragging them off your legs. You returned the favor, tugging his sweats low enough to free him, both of you moving too fast, too desperate to stop.
When you sank down onto him, the both of you froze, foreheads pressed together, gasps filling the dark. His hands gripped your hips tight, like he was holding on for his life.
"God... you feel unreal." He choked out, voice breaking.
You couldn't answer, not when the stretch made your breath stutter, your body clench around him. Slowly, you rolled your hips, and he let out a noise so raw it sent shivers racing down your spine.
Skin on skin, every movement dragged fire through you— his chest against yours, his hands sliding up to grab at your bare back, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails raking every time he thrust up into you.
Your mouths kept finding each other, breaking apart only for breathless moans, only to kiss again, messy and wet. Then lower, his mouth on your neck, your teeth on his shoulder, marking, claiming, every sound louder than you meant it to be.
"Don't stop." You whispered, voice shaky, your forehead pressed to his. "Please don't stop."
He laughed, breathless, almost broken. "Never again. I'm never letting you go again."
He pulled you down harder, deeper, until the world narrowed to just him, his skin, his lips, his hands, his voice, and you.
Every thrust built faster, harder, until neither of you could think, just breathe and hold on. His hands clutched at your hips, then your waist, then your back— gripping anywhere he could.
You buried your face in his neck, gasping against his damp skin, feeling every twitch in his body as he pushed up into you. His groans filled your ear, raw and helpless, and each one made you clench tighter around him.
"Baby— fuck—" The word slipped out, half choked, half broken. He bit into your shoulder, desperate, his body shaking under yours.
Your hips rolled faster, your nails dragging down his back. "Hae— oh my god—"
You couldn't stop, couldn't breathe, couldn't hold back the moans spilling out as heat coiled tight in your stomach. His forehead pressed to yours again, both of you panting, kissing between every gasp, sloppy and trembling.
Your body shook, clenching around him until you cried out against his lips. He groaned so loud it was almost a shout, thrusting up one last time before spilling into you, his whole body shaking beneath yours.
The room was filled with your sounds— panting, gasps, the creak of the bed, and then nothing but the aftershocks. You slumped against his chest, both of you damp with sweat, hearts pounding too hard to slow.
His arms wrapped tight around you, holding you against him like he'd fall apart if he let go. You could feel his lips moving against your hair, murmuring something between curses and prayers, too quiet and too shaky to catch.
After a long stretch of silence, you finally lifted your head. His face was flushed, hair damp, lips swollen. His eyes found yours, softer now, but still hungry. Still aching.
"See, not ten seconds." He whispered with a smile, brushing a thumb over your cheek.
You both laughed, breathless, but it broke halfway through. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this. How long I've wanted you."
You stared at him, chest still rising and falling too fast. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why not?" His hand slid up your spine, fingers over your bare back. "It's the truth, and after tonight I'm not gonna pretend otherwise."
Your throat tightened. You almost pushed away, almost said no again, but then he leaned up and kissed you slowly, and you let yourself melt into it.
The New Year had begun and here you were, tangled with him in the sheets, his arms still holding you close like he'd never let go again.
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January 1st
The air outside was biting, cold enough that your breath puffed in soft clouds. The porch creaked under your weight as you leaned against the railing, arms crossed, trying to quiet the storm in your head.
You'd barely been out there a minute when you heard the door open. The hinges squealed, and then the soft thud of footsteps.
You didn't turn around.
"Couldn't sleep?" Haechan's voice was rough, still heavy from sleep.
Silence, you kept your eyes on the dark line of trees.
He came closer, not too close, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket. "Y/n?"
"Don't." You said, finally.
"Don't what?"
"Don't make this harder than it already is."
He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Harder? Last night wasn't hard. It was—" He broke off, struggling. "It was real, the first real thing in years."
You turned then. "Last night was a mistake."
His face crumpled, and he laughed again, bitter this time. "A mistake, that's what you're calling it?"
"Yes." You folded your arms tighter, like the motion could hold you up. "You made yours a long time ago, last night was mine. So now we're even."
His head snapped up, eyes blazing. "Even? That's what you think this is? Some kind of scoreboard? You think you were just— what? Settling a debt?"
Your jaw clenched. "What else would it be?"
He stepped closer, voice rising. "It would be me still loving you. Every damn day since the last time I saw you. It would be me not being able to forget you no matter how hard I tried."
You flinched, but your voice stayed flat. "Don't say that."
"I have to." He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once before turning back. "Do you know how insane it feels, seeing you every day again? Sitting across from you like nothing happened? Pretending like I don't still feel it? Because I do, I never stopped."
"Stop."
"I can't." His voice cracked, but he kept going, spilling like he'd been holding it in too long. "I can't stop, Y/n. I see you laugh at Jaemin's dumb jokes, I see you arguing with Chenle, I see you humming when you're focused and— I swear to god it kills me because it's the same. You're the same, and you're right there, but you're not mine anymore."
You shook your head, swallowing hard. "I'm not yours, not anymore. That's the point."
"But you were." His voice dropped, almost pleading. "You were mine. And I ruined it, I know, I ruined everything. But last night— last night felt like I had a piece of it back, just for a second."
Your chest ached, but you forced steel into your words. "It didn't mean anything."
"Yes, it did." He stepped closer again, eyes locked on you like he could pull the truth out. "I felt it, you can't tell me you didn't feel it too."
"I didn't."
"Liar." His voice was hoarse, but underneath it was raw pain. "You looked at me the same way you used to. You kissed me back like nothing had changed."
Your throat closed. "It was the alcohol."
"No." His hands curled into fists at his sides. "No, don't do that, don't hide behind that. That was you."
You turned away, blinking hard. "It was nothing, let it go."
"I can't." His voice broke, soft and desperate now. "I can't let you go. I tried, for years, I tried, and you're still the only thing that matters."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the ragged sound of his breathing.
"You don't get to say that, not after what you did." You whispered.
He froze, the guilt flashing across his face. "I know, I know I don't deserve to, but I'm saying it anyway because it's true. And if begging would change anything, I'd beg. I'd get on my knees right now if it meant you'd give me another chance."
You squeezed your eyes shut. "Last night was a mistake."
He stepped close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. "No, it was the first thing that felt right in years."
You turned back, finally meeting his gaze, and it nearly broke you. His eyes were glassy, pleading, like he was holding on by threads.
"Let it go." You whispered.
The door creaked behind you, and Chenle's voice cut through, oblivious. "There you guys are. We're about to make breakfast, come help."
You tore your gaze away, heart hammering. "Let it go." You said again, then brushed past him, leaving him on the porch with nothing but the frost and the silence.
✎ ex!haechan x fem!reader (ft. some of the dreamies +random made up side character)
Prolouge | Part 1 | Part 2
✎ synopsis- He cheated, and it hurt— badly. You walked away, convinced you’d never look back. But now, after five years of silence, you’re working together again. The air is filled with things left unsaid, and the memories you buried refuse to stay quiet. You tell yourself you’ve moved on— that what you feel is nothing but ghosts of what once was. But every glance lingers too long, every accidental touch feels too familiar, and you can’t help but wonder: can something once broken ever truly be whole again?
✎ genre- work au, slow burn, second chance romance, smut 18+, angst, humor, slight fluff.
✎ warnings- mentions of cheating, alcohol, (full list on each full part).
✎ w/c- 3.1k (prologue), estimated 18k for first part, estimated 10k for second part.
Now playing: Like we just met- NCT DREAM
a/n- ahhh, I’m finally back with a long fic! This has been in my drafts for a while, and I finally decided to pick it up, so I hope you enjoy this. Let me know if you would like to be tagged! Mwah mwah 💋
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The car ride was so quiet it almost hurt. Just the low hum of the engine and the hiss of the tires whenever they hit a patch of wet pavement. You leaned toward the window, the glass showing only the faintest reflection. The crack you'd left open let in cold air that stung your cheeks and nose, but you'd take that over the way your chest ached every time your eyes almost slipped toward him.
You two argued sometimes— loud, messy arguments, but this wasn't like that. This was worse, this silence was heavy.
When he finally pulled up to your building, the car slowed to a stop. The headlights lit up the empty curb. You reached for the door handle without looking at him, but you couldn't stop yourself from sneaking a glance. His jaw was tight, his hands locked on the wheel like letting go would break something.
"Your jacket's here. Do you need it?" Your voice came out small. It wasn't about the jacket, it was about whether he'd come upstairs, whether you'd get one last chance to close the gap growing between you.
"Yeah." His answer was short. He put the car in park.
You got out, his footsteps followed a second later. The air between you felt colder than the night itself. Inside, you slipped into your room to grab the jacket. When you came back, he was still standing near the door, stiff, like stepping further in would be a mistake. You held it out, the weight of it so much heavier than it should have been. He took it, fingers brushing yours. His eyes met yours for just a second— long enough to say too much and not enough.
"Bye."
He swallowed hard. "Bye." Then he left, the door shut with a sound that stuck in your chest.
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It was after four in the morning when pounding rattled your door. You were already awake— sleep hadn't been an option, but the sudden noise still jolted you. You walked to the door on bare feet, peeking through the peephole. Haechan.
You opened it slowly. He looked wrecked, hair messy, shirt wrinkled, eyes swollen and red with fresh tears streaking his face.
"Baby?" The word slipped out before you could stop it.
He stepped inside without saying anything. The smell hit you instantly, alcohol.
"What's going on?" You asked, arms going around him on instinct. He clung to you right away, face buried in your neck, shoulders shaking as he sobbed into your skin. You rubbed his back slow, your chest aching at how small he felt in your arms and then you smelled it... perfume, not yours.
It sank into your stomach like ice. You tried to deny it, but it was there, clinging to him. Sweet, foreign and under it, faint but clear— something else that told you exactly where he'd been.
Your hands dropped quickly, you stepped back, your face giving you away before you even spoke.
His lips trembled. "I'm sorry." His voice was raw.
You stepped back again, the space between you widened.
"I'm so sorry." He said, rubbing his face like he could erase the night.
Your voice broke. "What did you do?"
He looked down. "I didn't mean to, i'm sorry." The words fell out too fast.
"Who was it?" Tears blurred your vision.
He gave a weak shrug. "Some random girl."
The confirmation knocked the air out of you. You already knew, but hearing it still felt like being shoved under water.
"I'm sorry, Y/n." He said again, stepping closer like he could undo it, his hands reaching for you.
You shoved him back. "Five years." Your voice cracked, finger pressing into his chest. "We've been together five years and you threw it all away for one night."
"I know, I know, there's no excuse. Please, just— just talk to me." His voice was breaking.
"There's nothing to talk about." Each word was glass in your throat. "You ruined everything. Because you were mad at me for one night? I hope it was worth it."
"Please. Please just give me one more chance." His tears were falling hard now.
"Get out." Your tone dropped, tears slipped down your own face.
"Y/n, please—"
"Go!" Your voice shook, but it was firm. "I'll come to your place tomorrow for my things."
He breathed hard, wiping at his face. He didn't say another word, just turning and walking out.
You sank onto the edge of your bed, staring at the floor. The apartment was too quiet, every sound amplified. Your chest ached, like it had been hollowed out. You wanted to scream, but your throat felt useless. Part of you wanted to call him, beg him to explain, but the other part knew it would only make things worse. You had already lost him tonight, even if he hadn't walked out for good.
You fidgeted with your phone until your fingers hurt, scrolling aimlessly, waiting for a message that never came. The silence pressed against your skin, then the tears came. They weren't just for him, or for what he'd done. They were for all the times you thought he cared, only to feel him slip further away. For all the years you poured into something that maybe never existed the way you thought it did.
You curled into yourself on the bed, hands covering your face. You wanted to stop crying, but you couldn't. You wanted to tell yourself you were strong enough to walk away. You wanted to mean it, but your body refused to believe it.
Hours passed. The sky outside lightened slowly, pale gray leaking through the blinds. For a second the world looked almost normal, but it wasn't, not for a long time. Every time you closed your eyes, flashes came back— the pounding at your door at 4 a.m., the smell of liquor and perfume clinging to him, his tears soaking into your shirt.
His things were still scattered everywhere— clothes, his headphones, little remnants of him. You shoved it all into a cardboard box, taping it shut with one final pull. For a moment you just stared at it. Too small to hold five years, too light to carry the weight of what you were losing.
You wiped your face, grabbing the box, and carrying it to the door. The drive to his apartment felt endless, every mile heavy. By the time you reached his door, your chest was burning.
You knocked. It took a few seconds, but the door opened. Haechan stood there, and he looked destroyed— bloodshot eyes, dark circles, pale skin. His gaze dropped to the box in your hands, then back to your face. Neither of you spoke as you stepped aside.
You walked in, setting the box down. His apartment smelled faintly of stale beer and cologne. He dropped onto the couch, elbows on his knees, dragging his hands down his face like he could erase everything.
You moved around quietly, grabbing the rest of your things. A sweater, a toothbrush, records shoved in the corner. You avoided his eyes, but you could feel him there.
Finally, in his room, he stood in the doorway. Shoulders sagging, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You kept packing, but then your eyes caught his.
"Can we talk? Just— please." His voice was strained.
You hesitated, then nodded, too tired to fight.
You sat on the edge of his bed. A moment later, he joined, close but not touching. The silence stretched until he finally spoke.
"I don't know what happened last night." He said quickly. "I mean— I know what happened, but I wasn't thinking. I was drunk and angry and—" His voice cracked. "I swear it didn't mean anything, Y/n."
You stared down at your jeans softly, broken. "It doesn't matter if it meant nothing. You still did it, now I can't unknow it."
His eyes went wide. "I can be better. I'll never let anything like this happen again. I'll do whatever it takes— just don't let this be the end."
Your throat burned. His face was raw, tear streaked, desperate, but it didn't reach you.
"You know what happened with my parents." You whispered. "You know what it did to me. And you promised, Haechan. You promised you'd never put me through that."
His face crumpled. "I know. I broke it, but please— just one more chance. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
You shook your head, tears sliding freely now. "No. The trust is gone, you can't undo this. I can't look at you the same."
He reached for you, but you pulled back. "We've had each other our whole lives." He said, voice shaking. "I don't know how to be without you. Please, Y/n."
"You think I don't know that? I love you so much, Haechan. First love, first everything. I don't know how to be without you either and that's what makes this worse. How could you do this to the one person you say you can't live without?"
"One more chance." He whispered. "I'll never love anyone else, it's always been you. Please don't walk away."
You wiped your face with shaky hands. "I can't. I can't stay and pretend this didn't happen. I won't."
The room went still, silent except for his breathing. You stood and he didn't stop you, just hunched on the bed, sobbing into his hands. You slung the tote over your shoulder and walked to the door.
The sound of it closing was loud... final. Like the end of a song you'd loved too long, one you knew would never play again.
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Five years later.
You woke to sunlight cutting through the thin gaps in your curtains, stripes of gold falling across your sheets. For a moment, you just laid there, blinking against the brightness, stretching your arms over your head until your joints popped. You rolled onto your side, reaching blindly for your phone on the nightstand.
10:34 a.m. September 12th.
The last Saturday you would spend unemployed. The thought pressed against your chest. For nearly a month you had been floating, no bosses breathing down your neck, no coworkers whispering in corners, no long nights replaying every careless thing you had said. It had been... nice. You had let yourself sleep late, cook slowly, walk without a destination, but now the reset button was waiting, and Monday it would slam down hard. You whispered a silent prayer that this new place was not another trap.
Your phone lit up suddenly, buzzing in your hand with an incoming call.
You swiped it on speaker. "Hello."
"Heyyyy."
"Wassup? Good morning." Your lips pulled into a smile before you could stop them.
"Good morning." Jaemin's voice was warm. "Why do you sound like you are still in bed?"
You laughed, dragging a hand over your face. "Because not everyone has their life together like you, Jaemin."
"Ah, I know, I know." His voice carried that smug little edge he used whenever he wanted to tease. "You will soon though— since you're starting Monday."
You groaned loud enough for him to hear it. "Don't remind me."
"It's gonna be awesome. We basically get to hang out every day now." His grin was practically audible.
You paused, smirking to yourself. "That somehow makes me feel worse."
"Wow... okay." His laugh burst through the speaker. "For real though, everybody's cool. You're going to have fun."
"I am trusting you on this."
"Good. Because speaking of fun... three of us are getting dinner tonight. Do you want to come? Kind of like... getting a head start on meeting the team."
You sat up slowly, pillow tucked behind your back. "Is that girl you like coming?" The teasing smile on your lips was impossible to hide.
He hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah, I invited her." His voice dipped, carrying something nervous beneath it.
"So why did you invite me, then?"
"Because she invited someone else." He groaned like the words themselves pained him.
You let out a sound between a laugh and a groan, and Jaemin chuckled instantly at your reaction.
"Exactly. It was all, 'Can Ray come? Let's invite Ray.' Like— fine, sure, I said yes." He pitched his voice high, mocking her.
You pressed your lips together, amused. "Damn."
"Yeah, so please just come. Save me. Plus, I think you would actually like Ray." His tone was half pleading, half persuasive.
You narrowed your eyes at the wall, even though he couldn't see. "Ohhh, so that's why you invited me."
"No, no. Swear I just want you there." He laughed, then paused. "Okay, also... I will pay for your dinner if you come."
You bit your lip, groaning. "Fuck, you got me. I'll go."
"Aye, perfect." His voice lit up, all bright and energetic.
"What is the dress code?" You asked, already sorting through outfits in your head.
"Casual. Everything is always casual. Just wear something comfortable. It's at seven, so it is going to be dark and probably cold. I'll come pick you up."
"Cool." You were already planning your evening. "See you then."
"See you then." His voice echoed before the line clicked.
By 6:30 you stood in front of the mirror, sweater tugged down over your jeans, lips pressed together as though that tiny adjustment could still your nerves. Right on cue, a honk outside made you grab your bag and slip into your shoes.
Jaemin greeted you with his usual grin as you slid into the passenger seat. His fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the wheel like he had been waiting to burst into conversation.
"Are you excited?" He asked, pulling away from the curb.
"Eh, more nervous." You buckled your seatbelt, turning to him. "What if they think I'm weird or something?"
"You are weird." His answer came quick. "Most definitely, but they will love you. Swear."
You smirked, trying not to let him see how much you needed that reassurance. "I'm trusting you."
Soon he was pulling up to a small restaurant tucked on a quiet corner, warm light spilling onto the pavement. The kind of place that looked like it belonged in the backdrop of some indie film.
"See?" Jaemin shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as you walked. "Chill spot, nothing crazy."
You followed him in, low voices and clinking silverware filling the air. You were laughing at something dumb he said when he stopped.
"Oh, there they are."
You turned toward the table and froze... Haechan. Older now, sharper lines in his face, hair falling different, but it was him. No mistaking it.
Your breath caught, your chest tightening like someone had knocked the air from you.
Jaemin glanced back. "You good?"
You swallowed hard, forcing composure. "I thought you said his name was Ray?"
"Um, it is. That's what she calls him." He frowned but kept walking, oblivious.
Your legs carried you forward on autopilot, your heartbeat pounding so loud you swore the restaurant could hear it.
"Yo, wassup guys." Jaemin greeted easily, sliding into a seat across from a girl.
Across the table, Haechan's eyes lifted, colliding with yours. For the first time in years, his face shifted. Something that hit you like a punch to the chest.
You sat down, hands trembling under the table. Neither of you meant to, but your eyes kept flicking toward each other in quiet, stolen glances.
"This is Y/n." Jaemin gestured toward you.
You smiled tightly, offering a small wave.
"Hi! I'm Hana, it is so nice to finally meet you." The girl's smile was warm.
"Nice to meet you." Your voice was steady, though your chest was not.
The air shifted. Subtle, but it was there. All eyes sliding toward Haechan. His fingers drummed against his cup, gaze down, shoulders drawn.
"Are you not going to introduce yourself?" Jaemin teased.
Haechan glanced up, startled. "Huh? Me?"
"Yes, you."
He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't— um..."
"We know each other." You cut in quickly, smile bright, begging Jaemin not to push.
"Oh shit." Jaemin grinned wide. "From where?"
Your lips pressed together. "We go way back. When did you move here?"
Haechan scratched behind his ear. "Not long ago. Maybe... three years?"
Your chest tightened. The year you graduated, the year you both swore to leave that town together.
You hummed, throat tight.
"How do you two know each other?" Hana asked gently.
"We used to be best friends since birth." You laughed softly. "Same schools, same everything. Even two years of college together."
"Do you not talk anymore? What happened?"
Silence... his eyes begged you not to say it. You cleared your throat. "I moved away."
She nodded, then smirked, lacing her fingers with Haechan's hand. "Were you guys... together?"
"Hana." Jaemin groaned, but she only giggled.
You laughed lightly, even as your heart thundered. You glanced at Haechan before answering. "Yeah, we were."
Hana's smile widened. "Ooo..."
Jaemin blinked between you. "Wait, hold on. Is that... is he the one?"
You nodded slowly.
"Shit." His jaw dropped. "Damn."
Haechan ran a hand through his hair, muttering low.
"Can we please change the subject?" You cut in.
Hana smoothed the silence. "I heard you and Jaemin are close."
You exhaled. "We are."
"How did you meet?"
"When I transferred, we ended up in the same class." You glanced at Jaemin with a smile. "We clicked."
Conversation found its way again. Orders came, plates arrived. You picked at your food more than you ate, each glance up catching Haechan's shadow.
When the check landed, Jaemin slid his card before anyone moved. "My treat."
"Show off." Hana teased lightly.
Soon everyone bundled up, stepping into the cold night.
Hana hugged you, grinning. "Can't wait to see you Monday."
"Me too."
Haechan gave only a nod, hands buried in his pockets, too much said in silence. You and Jaemin started toward the car. Footsteps caught up, a tap on your shoulder.
You turned, Haechan. "Can we talk?" His voice was low.
Your chest clenched, before you shook your head. "There is nothing to talk about."
"Y/n—"
"Don't make it weird." You cut him off firmly. "We're cool, but that is it." You walked away before he could answer.
Inside the car, Jaemin's eyes were wide. "Wow, that's crazy. I'm literally having you work with your high school sweetheart, your soulmate. The guy who—" He lowered his voice. "—cheated."
You burst into laughter, shoving his shoulder. "Don't say it like that. And he is not my soulmate."
Jaemin laughed with you, shaking his head. "This is going to be wild."
The ride back was light, his jokes filling the air until he parked at your place.
𐙚📷꒱ synopsis- You weren't supposed to find out your new tattoo artist was also your subscriber, but now that you have, why not make it interesting? It was supposed to be business- now he's in your bed, on your screen, and way too deep under your skin.
𐙚📷꒱ genre- smut/ porn with plot MDNI! 18+, fluff, humor, hint of angst if you squint.
𐙚📷꒱ warnings- sub jisung, sexual filming, breath play (choking), dirty talk, dry humping, clothed handjob, hand restraints, gagging, use of sex toys (vibrator), marking, ice play, blindfolds, fingering, panty stealing, overstimulation, begging, unprotected sex under the influence (double don’t do), breeding, dacraphylia, auralism, food play, nipple play, spitting (in mouth loll), Jisung is a major loser.
𐙚📷꒱ W/c- 25k
a/n: hii guys ! I know the formatting’s a bit messy, tumblr was not on my side TT. But I still hope you enjoy this, and let me know what you think <33
The day, you arrived a few minutes early, but he was already there, sitting at a small two seater table near the window. His head was bowed, scrolling his phone absently, one leg bouncing nervously beneath the table. "Hey." You greeted, sliding into the seat across from him.
He looked up instantly, locking eyes with you. "Hey." He said quickly, clearing his throat and adjusting his posture like he'd been caught slouching.
"Did you already order?"
"No, I was... waiting for you." His voice was low, a little breathy. "I can go now, just tell me what you want."
You reached into your purse. "Just a latte, thanks. I can—" He shook his head and held a hand up, silencing you gently before turning toward the counter. A few minutes later, he returned with two drinks. He set yours down in front of you, careful and polite.
"Thanks." You said with a small smile, wrapping your hands around the warm cup.
He sat across from you, resting his palms on his knees. He looked like he was trying really hard to act normal, failing a little.
"So." He said. "What did you need to talk about?"
You sipped slowly, then leaned back a little. "Did you see my live last night?"
He nodded once, eyes on the lid of his coffee.
You watched him closely. "I want the guy to be you."
He froze mid sip. The paper cup paused at his lips, his eyes flicking up to you, blinking like you spoke in another language. "Hmm?" He asked carefully, setting the cup down.
"I want the collab to be with you." You repeated, relaxed, like it was no big deal.
"Me? You want me to do content with you?"
"Yeah." You said with a shrug. "You already know who I am. You've seen everything, you know the deal— and you'll keep it a secret."
He blinked again, still processing. His eyes widened just slightly, then dropped to his lap before flicking back to you. "I... I don't think I'd be very good." He mumbled.
"Sure you would." You said, smiling. "You won't know unless you try."
He nodded slowly, ears pink. "Okay."
You raised a brow. "How much would you want?"
He tilted his head. "Huh?"
"For the cut. What percent of the earnings?"
"Oh." He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't... I don't need anything."
You paused, eyeing him. "Nothing?"
"I'm getting everything I need." He said, a little too fast... a little too honest.
You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "You're kind of insane." He looked at you, but didn't deny it. You leaned in, voice softer. "You know I'm not gonna fuck you, right?"
He nodded. "I figured."
"And we're not kissing either."
He hesitated at that just for a second, his mouth opened slightly, then closed again.
"...Can I ask why?" He said after a moment.
"I just don't want to do anything that could risk me catching anything." You said bluntly. "That's a boundary I keep."
He nodded quickly. "I understand. I'm clean by the way, but I get it."
"Cool." You sipped your coffee again. "I want to get this out in the next few days. So, whenever you're free one night, just let me know."
"Tonight." He said immediately, a little too eagerly. "I'm free tonight. Let's do it tonight."
You raised a brow, a teasing smile playing at your lips. "Someone's excited."
He gave a small smile, eyes flickering down for a second. "A little."
"Alright." You said, pulling out your phone. "I'll send you the address, just come around ten. Oh, and wear black."
"Black?"
You smirked. "Trust me."
He nodded slowly, that dazed look settling into his features again, like he couldn't believe any of this was happening. You stood up, collecting your things. "See you tonight, Jisung."
He didn't even try to hide his smile this time. "See you."
═════════════════════════
The night arrived. Right on time, there was a knock at your door. You slipped on your robe, just barely tied at the waist and walked barefoot down the hall. Your heart wasn't racing, but there was a strange kind of buzz under your skin. You opened the door and there he was, dressed in black like you asked. A fitted long sleeve shirt that clung to his arms, black jeans, hair tousled like he didn't want to overdo it but still clearly tried. He looked nervous, but good... really good. "Hey." You said casually, stepping back. "Come in."
He gave a small nod and stepped inside. His eyes scanned the space quickly, then landed on you— on the dip of your collarbone peeking through the robe, the glint of skin at your thigh where it opened just slightly when you walked. You led him back to your room, your soft footsteps the only sound between you. Once inside, he hesitated, standing near the edge of your bed like he wasn't sure if he should touch anything, or breathe too loudly. "Sit." You said, gesturing toward the bed with a flick of your hand.He sat down quickly, hands clasped between his knees, shoulders tense. His eyes followed you everywhere, your movements, your bare legs, the curve of your mouth as you adjusted the tripod. You dropped your robe silently, folding it neatly over a nearby chair, making sure he was watching. Not just because you liked the way his throat bobbed when he saw you, but because you wanted him to feel it, the shift in energy.
"Alright." You said, tapping at the settings on your camera. "Here's the rundown."
His eyes didn't leave you.
"This is going to be short. Just a few minutes, max because it's new, and I don't like editing forever. I only want to do one take, so don't screw up."
He nodded quickly.
"The way the frame is set up, we'll only see your lips and below, maybe your nose. If your head drops or moves too much, I can edit it out. Just keep your voice low and your hands where I can direct them. Got it?"
He swallowed. "Yeah."
"Any questions?"
He hesitated for half a second, then shook his head no. You walked toward him slowly, your fingers adjusting the strap of your bra absentmindedly. "Do you want to know what's about to happen, or do you want to be surprised?"
He looked up at you from where he sat, his voice a little hoarse. "I want to be surprised."
You grinned, of course he did.
"Alright." You said, reaching out to hit the red button on the camera. "Then let's begin."
You walked over to him slowly, your gaze locked on his eyes. You placed one knee between his legs, easing it between his thighs until he tensed beneath you. "Don't move." You murmured, your voice low but commanding, and then without another word you turned around toward the camera. "Hi guys." You said sweetly, like you weren't currently straddling a trembling boy. "I saw all your comments last week, and I took them into consideration. So... I thought I'd give it a try." You smiled. "We have a special guest today." Your eyes flicked downward, where Jisung sat stiff as a statue. His jaw was tight, fists clenched on his thighs, shoulders locked like he was holding his breath. "He's nervous." You said with a giggle, glancing back at the camera. "Isn't that cute?"
You used both hands to gently push his knees wider apart. You climbed onto his lap— hovering, not touching down yet. Your thighs framed his, your lips a breath away from his ear. "You're lucky." You whispered, low enough that only he could hear. "Lucky they can't see the stupid look on your face right now." Slowly, you let yourself sink into his lap. You didn't settle fully on him, just enough to press your weight down on his thigh, your knee brushing firmly against the bulge in his pants. He let out a choked sound, half gasp, half groan and you felt the slight jolt beneath you as he tried to suppress it. You began to rock your hips forward slowly, your core dragging right over the firm muscle of his thigh. Just enough to make his whole body stiffen, just enough to tease. You moved again, slower this time, really enjoying the friction, the helpless way he twitched under you. His head dropped back a little, a shaky breath escaping his lips.
"Look at him." You said, voice sweet and sharp all at once as you turned to the camera. "You see how hard he is? I barely touched him and he's already falling apart. Pathetic." Your fingers found his hair, threading through before yanking back roughly. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours. "You're pathetic." You said flatly. "Say it."
"I'm pathetic." He murmured, his voice raspy and tight, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
Your smile widened. "Aww, you're so good for me." Your hand slid from his hair down the column of his throat, your other hand gripping his thigh and rolling your hips again, your knee pressing hard against the stiff line in his jeans.
"Oh my god." He gasped, his breath hitching, fingers curling tight in the sheets beneath him.
"What?" You teased. "You want me to touch you?"
"Yes." It came out too fast, too needy. "Please."
You leaned in, voice a whisper against his cheek. "Too bad."
Your hand closed around his throat— firmer this time, just enough pressure to make him tense beneath you. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a desperate whimper escaping his lips as his hips jolted involuntarily beneath you. "Oh, you like this?" You asked, watching his face carefully.
He nodded quickly, eyes glassy, mouth open.
"Words." You snapped, your grip tightening ever so slightly.
"Yes." He choked out, a broken moan. "Yes, I like it."
You studied him, the flushed skin, the pulse pounding under your fingers, his chest rising and falling too fast. The way his hips kept shifting— like he didn't know what to do with the heat building between you. His eyes locked on yours, dark and pleading. You just smiled, lifting your hips just barely, making sure he felt the loss of you. You looked at the camera."Let's see how long he lasts." You rocked forward again just slightly, feeling the tension rise under your fingers, under your hips. Jisung's hands were still clenched at his sides, shaking slightly now, like he was trying to keep them there with all his might.
You leaned in. "You can touch me."
His eyes flickered up, hopeful.
"But not where you want to." You took his wrists, guiding them gently to your waist. "Here, only here."
He nodded. A small breath escaped him as his fingers curled cautiously around your hips, like even that was too much. You didn't move, just stayed still, letting the weight of your body rest on him. Then you rolled again, slow and deep, your core dragging across his thigh, your breath hitching slightly despite yourself. Jisung groaned low in his throat, his hands tightening. "Don't get greedy." You warned, your nails trailing up his arm. "You don't get to take."
"I'm not." He whispered. "I'm just..."
"Just what?"
His eyes flicked up to yours— hazy and heavy lidded. "Trying not to lose it."
You smirked, then turned back to the camera. "He's doing so good, don't you think?" You said to your viewers. You leaned in again, your lips grazing the shell of his ear. "I could make you cum like this." You whispered. "Without ever laying a hand on your cock."
He let out a helpless sound, his whole body was trembling now, heat rising under his skin, breath uneven. "You want that?" You asked, your voice light and playful. "Want to be humiliated in front of thousands of strangers?"
He nodded once desperately, breathless. "Please."
You didn't stop moving— your hips kept their slow rhythm, dragging heat and friction from both of you. He was falling apart. You could see it in the twitch of his jaw. The sheen of sweat at his temple. The way he bit his lip so hard you thought he might draw blood. "Say you want it." You whispered, one hand finding his hair again, tugging him just hard enough to make his breath stutter.
"I want it." He gasped. "I want it— please, I want it."
You smiled, glancing at the camera again. "Maybe I'll let him, but not yet." You reached forward, stopping the recording, the soft click echoing in the room. The silence that followed felt... heavier. The air between you charged and strange as you looked at him. His hands were still on your hips, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Face flushed, lips parted, eyes unreadable. For a second, you just studied him. "How was that?" You asked, voice a little softer now.
He swallowed hard, then nodded. "Intense."
You smirked. "You did good."
He didn't say anything, just looked up at you with that same stunned, wrecked expression. You slid off his lap slowly, reaching for your robe. His eyes followed the motion, but he didn't move. Once you had it wrapped around you again, you turned back to him. "You okay?"
He nodded, breath evening out a little now. "Yeah, more than okay."
You crossed your arms lightly, watching him. "So... I'm probably going to post that tomorrow... with your permission."
He looked startled for a second, then nodded again. "Yeah, of course."
"Good." You smiled. "Because I think it's gonna do really well."
He gave a small laugh. "Yeah?"
"Definitely. They're gonna eat it up." You paused. "You might be in demand."
He blinked at you. "Would you want to do another?"
You tilted your head, watching him closely. "You want to?"
"I... yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, shy again. "If you do."
You let the silence sit there for a moment.
"Maybe." You said, playful again. "But only if you're good."
"I'll be good." He said quickly, almost too quick.
You bit back your smile. "We'll see."
You were fiddling with your camera, scrolling through the footage to double check the angles, when you heard it, a low grumble. You paused, glancing up. Jisung's stomach growled again, loud this time. He froze like a deer in headlights, lips parting slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry." He said quickly, one hand covering his midsection like he could silence it. "I skipped dinner."
You raised a brow, the corner of your mouth tugging upward. "You skipped dinner to come get edged on camera?"
He let out a small, nervous laugh. "Didn't plan to, I figured it wouldn't take that long."
"And yet you still look like you're trying to not pass out." You said, eyeing him.
"I'm good, I swear—" His stomach betrayed him again, louder this time.
You sighed, setting the camera down on your desk. "Come on."
He blinked. "What?"
"I'm not letting you go home half hard and half starved." You tugged your robe tighter and walked out of the room. "Let's eat."
He hesitated for a second before following. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, unless you want to keep standing there like a sad Victorian orphan."
You heard him chuckle behind you as you headed into the kitchen.
"Alright." You said. "I could make grilled cheese or ramen. You pick."
"Grilled cheese?" He repeated, eyebrows raised. "That sounds good."
You nodded. "Comfort food, I grew up on it."
He gave you a soft smile, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. "That sounds perfect."
You got to work, moving through your small kitchen with ease. He stood awkwardly near the counter at first before eventually settling onto one of the barstools.
"I feel like I should offer to help." He said.
"You can keep me company instead." You replied. "Tell me something about you."
"Something?" He asked, lips twitching. "Like what?"
"Something that's not horny." You clarified, tossing a glance over your shoulder.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well, that eliminates eighty percent of my personality."
You smirked. "Figures."
A moment passed before he added more genuinely. "Um, okay. I've been tattooing for about four years. Started doing stick and pokes on my friends in high school. Got an apprenticeship when I was nineteen."
"That explains why you're so steady with your hands." You said casually.
He coughed. "I... thank you?"
You turned around, grabbing the grilled cheese sandwiches and slid one onto each of your plates. "You're welcome."
His eyes lit up. "You didn't have to do all this."
"Sure I did. You were about to faint in my hallway." You said, taking a bite.
He sat across from you. "This is really good."
"I know." You grinned. "I'm a woman of many talents."
He laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that softened his whole face. You found yourself watching him a little longer than you meant to. "So." He said, swallowing his bite. "What about you? Any fun facts that aren't on camera?"
You leaned back in your chair, thinking. "I'm a film major dropout."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I was tired of school, tired of lectures about the male gaze from professors who were the male gaze. Started content for fun, didn't expect it to turn into... this."
He nodded, listening. "Do you like it?"
You shrugged. "Some days. Some days I feel powerful, some days I feel like I've sold every version of myself except the one I actually am."
Jisung looked at you then. "You seem grounded, though. Like you're still yourself."
You arched a brow. "That's a bold assumption."
"Well, you didn't kick me out for drooling on your thigh earlier." He said, half joking.
You chuckled. "I should've."
"But you didn't." He said.
You shook your head with a smirk, taking another bite of grilled cheese. For a while, you just ate in silence— comfortable, warm silence. The tension from earlier had faded, replaced by something easier, something you liked more than you expected to. When the plates were empty, Jisung helped you bring them to the sink. "Thanks for feeding me." He said quietly.
You glanced at him. "Thanks for letting me use you like a human prop."
His ears turned pink again. "Anytime." He said, smiling.
You leaned against the counter. "You're not what I expected."
He tilted his head. "And what did you expect?"
You studied him a moment— soft eyes, messy hair, hands fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Someone dumber, or cockier... or both."
He laughed. "Guess I'll have to disappoint you."
You shook your head. "No, you're fine." And he was, maybe too fine. You turned away before you let that thought linger. "Anyway." You said, walking him to the door. "I'll edit the video tomorrow, should be up by midnight."
"Cool." He said, stepping outside. "Let me know if you want help filming again."
You paused in the doorway. "I might."
"Good." He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Night."
"Night, Jisung."
You shut the door slowly, then leaned back against it, heart weirdly full. You weren't sure what was happening between you and him, but it was definitely something and you didn't hate it.
═════════════════════════
It was just after 4 p.m. when your phone buzzed.
jisungpark12: you free tonight?
You stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. You bit the inside of your cheek before typing back.
You: Why?
His response came quickly.
jisungpark12: there's this new spot opening across town. just thought it'd be cool to try.
was curious if you'd want to go with me.
You stared at the message for a second longer than necessary. Not "want to hang out" or "grab food." Just: go with me.
You smiled softly.
You: Sure, what time?
An hour later, he picked you up. All black again, his default apparently, but this time his hoodie was layered with a nice jacket and clean shoes, a slight effort in his hair that made you glance a little longer than you meant to. "You look nice." You said as you got in the car.
He blinked, ears already turning pink. "You too."
The restaurant was sleek and modern. All dark woods, hanging plants, and soft jazz that buzzed low through the air. You slid into the booth across from him, eyes flicking through the menu while he tapped his fingers lightly against the table. "You ever tried anything like this?" He asked.
You shook your head. "First time, you?"
"I like places like this." He said, brushing his bangs from his eyes. "You know, places that try too hard."
You laughed. "So this is a try hard date?"
He looked up, startled. "Is this a date?"
You tilted your head. "You invited me out, paying for dinner, complimented me when I got in the car..."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "...Okay, point taken."
You smirked, sipping your water. "Relax. I'm messing with you."
He let out a quiet breath of relief, though a smile tugged at his lips. "You're really good at that."
"At what?"
"Keeping me on edge." He said, voice low, eyes flicking to yours and away again. "In a good way."
The server came, saving you from responding too quickly, and you both ordered. Conversation came easier this time. He told you more about his childhood, how he tattooed his first person in someone's garage at 16, how he used to think he'd be a graphic designer until he realized he couldn't sit still that long. You told him about how your first video was meant to be a joke, a dare from a friend. How you didn't expect it to get ten views, let alone ten thousand. He listened. The way his brow creased when you talked, the way his eyes flicked to your lips every time you paused like he wanted to ask something, but wasn't sure if he should. After a while, you leaned back. "So..." You said casually. "Our video."
He blinked. "Yeah?"
"It did crazy numbers."
He smiled, looking down at his bowl. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You grinned. "I think it's because you looked so pathetic."
His ears turned pink again. "Cool, thanks."
You laughed. "I'm serious though. They loved it, and you."
He looked up at you. There was something behind his eyes— shy, but also steady, like he was figuring something out in real time. "I'd do another." He said quietly. "If you wanted."
You tilted your head, smiling. "And I said I'd think about it."
He nodded. "Yeah, you did."
You rested your chin on your hand. "What are you actually into?"
He blinked. "Like...?"
"In real life." You said. "Off camera, off script."
He looked at you for a long second, like he was deciding how honest to be. Then he leaned forward slightly. "Anything."
You raised a brow. "That's vague."
"I mean it." He said, voice a little lower now. "I'll try anything. I like giving up control, I like being used, told what to do."
You smiled slowly, tapping your finger on your glass. "Good to know."
He swallowed, watching your expression carefully. "You're smiling."
You leaned forward. "Because you just gave me a lot of ideas. Finish your food." You said, sitting back. "We've got a long night ahead."
Your apartment was already dim, warm with the buzz of the low light overhead when you let him in. He stepped through the doorway carefully, eyes flicking around like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. You could see it on his face— the nerves, the excitement, the tension in his shoulders as he set his phone on the counter and turned toward you. You locked the door behind him, walking past him like you weren't even going to acknowledge it yet, just brushing lightly against him with your shoulder as you made your way to the bedroom. "Come on."
He followed. Your room looked different tonight. The sheets were fresh. The camera was already set up. There was a soft scent in the air— something warm, like vanilla, but not sweet. You turned to him, crossing your arms. "Take your pants off." You said, voice soft.
His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't argue. His hands moved slowly, unbuttoning and pushing the black jeans down his hips. He wore dark briefs tonight, snug against his body, the outline of his cock already showing, stiff and twitching slightly. You let your eyes linger. "Sit." You said, nodding toward the bed. He sat at the edge, legs slightly apart, hands resting awkwardly on his thighs as he looked at you, chest rising and falling a little faster than before. "I'll be right back." You said, walking to your dresser. You opened the top drawer slowly, fingers digging through until you found what you were looking for. When you turned around, he was already watching you— breath held, eyes wide. Your fingers dangled the handcuffs first, then held up the ball gag. He blinked fast, swallowing hard. You walked over to him, standing between his knees. "Last chance to back out. Once the gag's on, you don't get to complain."
He nodded instantly. "I'm good."
You smiled. "That's what I thought."
You leaned forward, brushing your fingers under his chin to guide his face up. "Open." He did, lips parting as you slipped the gag into his mouth. His breath stuttered as you buckled it behind his head, slow and secure. Then you took one wrist, then the other, clicking the cuffs around one before guiding his arms behind his back, locking them in place. He let out a breath through his nose— shaky, already a little desperate. Your fingers dragged down his chest, over his stomach. His abs flexed beneath your touch, the tension clear in every part of him. You slipped your hand down, palming him through the thin fabric of his underwear.
He let out a muffled moan. The gag didn't do anything to stop the raw sound of him, if anything it made it better. You could feel how hard he was, how much he strained under the pressure of your touch. His thighs twitched, body jerking slightly as you rubbed harder, circling your palm slowly.
"You're so loud." You whispered, eyes locked on his. "You love being used like this, don't you?"
He nodded helplessly, another muffled noise breaking through the gag.
You bent closer, lips at his ear. "Do they know how easy it is to break you?"
He let out a moan that bordered on a whimper.
"Do you want to cum?" You asked sweetly, still stroking him through the fabric. His hips jerked, his nod was frantic. You slowed down. "Too bad."
You climbed onto his lap again, straddling him, keeping your pressure perfectly aligned with where he throbbed under the fabric. Your hips moved slowly, grinding against him as your hands dragged up his chest, nails raking lightly. "You look so pretty gagged like this." You said. "Just sitting there with your wrists behind your back, letting me do whatever I want."
He moaned louder now, head falling forward slightly as his body shook with the need for release."You want to cum in your underwear like a loser?” He whimpered, nodding again.
"Tell me." You demanded.
His words came out as broken sounds, nearly unintelligible— high and breathy, desperate behind the gag, but you could tell what he meant. You leaned back, grinding down harder, your palm dragging up the length of his cock through the wet, hot fabric. It was soaked now, the front dark and sticky where pre-cum had leaked through. You pressed your fingers into him harder, rubbing him just right, watching his eyes roll back slightly. "Such a good toy." You purred. "I barely even touched you and you're already this messy."
His body was trembling beneath you now, groaning helplessly behind the gag, thighs tensed, hips twitching with every stroke. "I know you're close, look at you." You said, breath hot against his ear. "All flushed and helpless, aching for it." Then you pressed your mouth against the shell of his ear and whispered, "Cum."
And he did. You felt it— the jerk of his hips, the deep, broken whimper that tore through the gag as he came hard in his underwear, the wet patch spreading underneath your hand, sticky and hot. He trembled beneath you, breathing heavy, chest heaving, ruined and still gagged, arms still cuffed behind him. You leaned back and looked at him, hand still resting on his thigh. "You did so good for me." You said, smiling. His eyes met yours, grateful and overwhelmed. You reached for the gag buckle behind his head, loosening it slowly.
"You okay?" You asked softly.
He nodded, breathless. "That was..."
"Yeah." You said, smoothing your fingers through his hair. "I know."
You didn't uncuff him yet, you just kept your hand on his thigh, grounding him while his chest rose and fell, your smile softening just a little as you watched him come back down to earth. His wrists were red from the cuffs, neck damp with sweat, mouth marked by the gag. His underwear was soaked through, clinging to him, the stain obvious and humiliating. He looked ruined, but weirdly... sweet. You stood, grabbing a cloth to wipe your hands, glancing back at him. "You wanna stay and watch a movie?" You asked before you could stop yourself. You caught his surprised expression, like he couldn't believe you offered. And honestly? You kind of couldn't either. But then you glanced down and saw the wet cling of fabric between his legs, still rising and falling with every breath. You giggled. "Never mind, you need to go clean yourself up."
"I'm fine." He said quickly. "I don't mind, I can stay."
You raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're literally sitting in your own mess."
He blinked, a little dazed. "It's warm."
You laughed, shaking your head as you reached down to unlock his wrists. He rubbed his arms when you were done, standing slowly. His hair was a mess, his lips swollen, shirt stuck to his back. You almost told him he looked cute... you didn't. "Go home, Jisung." You said, brushing past him. He followed you to the door in silence. Just as you unlocked it, his voice came quiet: "Will we hang out again?"
You paused, hand still on the doorframe. "...Maybe." It wasn't a yes... it wasn't a no either.
He stood still, then lifted his eyes to meet yours. "Can I get your number?"
Another pause. Your first instinct was to say no— to keep that line clean, distant, professional. But something in his face softened you, not desire, just curiosity. You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. He typed in his number and gave it back, stepping outside.
"I'll text you." He said.
You nodded. "Okay."
The door clicked shut behind him. You stood there in the silence of your apartment.
It was past midnight when your phone lit up on the couch beside you. You were half-watching a movie, legs tucked under a throw blanket, your hair still damp from a shower. You grabbed your phone, screen glowing in the dark.
You stared at the screen after you sent it, thumb hovering over the glass like maybe you'd say more, but you didn't. Instead, you tucked the phone under your pillow, laid back into the couch cushions, and let your eyes slip closed, his words still playing quietly in your chest.
═════════════════════════
You weren't even supposed to be out this long. You only meant to run a quick errand— grab some stuff from the pharmacy, maybe swing by the post office, but of course the lines were long, the sun was blazing, and your energy was running on fumes. You had just stepped out of the corner store, phone in one hand a cold drink in the other, when a familiar voice called out. "Hey!"
You turned, scanning for the source, then blinked when you saw him. Jisung stood a few feet away, dressed casually in a black tee and sneakers, one hand raised in a lazy wave, a small brown takeout bag tucked under his arm. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Hey." You said, offering a smile. "What are you doing out here?"
"Lunch break." He said, walking over. "There's this dumpling place a block over I like."
You eyed the bag in his hand and smirked. "That it?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Got time to kill before I head back to the shop."
He paused, glancing at your drink. "You eat?"
You shook your head. "Not yet."
"You want to, like... join me?" He asked, a little shy, like it was a spur of the moment idea he hadn't fully committed to yet. "Only if you're not busy."
You looked at him for a second, deciding. You had planned on going home. But... "Yeah." You said. "Why not." Ten minutes later you were both sitting in the tiny shaded patio of the dumpling place, sharing a metal table under a striped umbrella. You picked a few things off the menu on your phone.
"Okay." He said, sipping his drink. "So what do you do when you're not filming?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "You act like I just sit in lingerie 24/7."
His eyes widened slightly. "I didn't— I mean, not exactly— I just..." He scratched the back of his neck. "I guess I'm just curious."
"I read." You said. "And write sometimes. Depends on the mood, I'm kind of a homebody honestly."
"Same." He said. "People always assume I'm outgoing because of my job or whatever, but I'd rather be at home sketching than out partying."
You raised a brow. "You sketch?"
"Yeah, tattoo ideas mostly, but sometimes just... random stuff."
"That's cool." You said, genuinely surprised. "I always wanted to be good at drawing, but I can barely manage stick figures."
He smiled. "I'll teach you sometime."
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "You say that like I'm gonna ask."
"Maybe you will."
The server dropped your food off and the conversation flowed easier with something to do with your hands. He was funny in a quiet, awkward kind of way. You told him about the worst custom request you ever got, and he nearly choked laughing. He told you about a girl who once tried to seduce him mid tattoo session, and you shook your head at how weirdly similar your lives were, just in different forms. You caught him watching you once or twice, eyes lingering just a second too long on your mouth or your laugh, but he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Eventually, he glanced down at his phone. "Shit." He said. "I gotta get back to the shop."
You nodded, dusting your fingers off with a napkin. "Duty calls."
He stood up, tossing his trash into the bin nearby, then turned back to you.
"I'm glad I ran into you." He said, adjusting the strap on his bag. "This was... nice."
You nodded. "Yeah, it was."
"I'll text you?" He said, more like a question than a promise.
"Sure." You said.
He smiled once more, then headed off down the block, turning back only once to glance at you again— quickly, almost shy before disappearing into the crowd.
Your phone buzzed against your nightstand just as you were about to sleep that night. You rolled over, grabbing it lazily, and saw the name light up the screen.
You set your phone down, staring at the ceiling for a moment, still smiling.
═════════════════════════
You opened the door just as he was about to knock. Jisung blinked, a little startled. "Oh.. hey." He said, scratching the back of his neck.
You smiled. "Right on time."
He looked good. His hair was freshly styled, and he wore a black button up with sleeves slightly rolled, jeans, and sneakers that were almost suspiciously clean.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Yep." You locked the door behind you and followed him down to the car.
The restaurant was small, tucked away on a quiet corner with low lighting and warm wood accents. The kind of place that smelled like roasted garlic and butter the second you walked in. It wasn't fancy, but it was intimate— comfortable. The kind of spot that made first dates, or whatever this was, feel less intimidating. You both slid into a booth, menus already in hand. Jisung sat across from you, posture stiff at first, like he wasn't sure where to put his arms or how to sit like a normal person. He kept glancing at you from behind the menu, then away just as quickly.
You smirked, sipping your water. "Nervous?"
He let out a short, breathy laugh and dropped his eyes to the table. "Is it that obvious?"
You nodded with a grin. "A little."
He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck before looking down at the menu again. "I just... don't really do this. Like, dinners with people I actually like."
That made you blink, a pause passed between you. His voice raised a view octaves. "No— not like that, I mean—"
"Relax." You said softly, nudging his leg under the table.
The tension in his shoulders slowly started to melt away. You both ordered— pasta for you, something spicy and seafood filled for him, and once the waitress disappeared, the space between you felt less heavy. You talked about easy things at first, movies, music, the city. "I used to collect comics when I was younger." You mentioned casually.
Jisung blinked, his entire demeanor perking up like someone had turned on a light switch inside him. "Wait— what kind of comics?"
You leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "Mostly indie stuff, but I had a soft spot for old X-Men."
His jaw actually dropped. "No way. The classic era? Chris Claremont?"
You blinked. "Yeah?"
He looked like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket. "Okay. You're officially the coolest person I've ever met."
You laughed into your water. "It's really not that deep."
"No, it is. The Dark Phoenix Saga? Days of Future Past? I have those bagged and boarded in my room."
"Oh my god." You said, eyes widening.
"I even— wait... no, never mind."
You leaned in, grinning. "What?"
He groaned, covering his face with both hands. "I used to read fanfiction, okay? When I was like fourteen."
You burst into laughter, nearly choking on your drink. "You what?!"
"It was just a little phase!" He said defensively, face fully pink now. "It was this whole alternate universe where Jean didn't die and they all opened a sandwich shop together. It was called... X-Meals."
You clapped a hand over your mouth. "Stop it, no. You're lying."
"I'm not! It's epic." He said with a dramatic gesture. He paused, expression dropping a bit. Quieter he said: "I mean... it used to be epic."
"You still read it, don't you?" You teased.
His cheeks were glowing now as he laughed and shook his head. "No! I don't!"
"You totally do." You smiled.
"Shut up, no I don't."
"Send me the collection." You shrugged.
He froze. "Wait, actually?"
"Bro." You muttered, dropping your head into your hands.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" He laughed, hands up in surrender.
"You're not." You said, looking up again, smiling.
Before he could respond, your food arrived, mercifully breaking the moment and giving you both a chance to breathe, but even as you ate, the teasing lingered in your smiles and side glances.
You arrived at the bowling alley just after nine. Neon lights pulsed across the scuffed tile floors, pop music blasted overhead, and from somewhere near the arcade, someone was screaming like the world was ending.
Jisung rented the shoes while you picked the lightest ball you could find, struggling not to trip in the stiff soles as you made your way toward the lane. "All right." He said, cracking his knuckles like he was prepping for an Olympic event. "You ready to lose?"
You narrowed your eyes. "Excuse me?"
He just grinned. "You said you suck."
"I do, but the confidence still hurts."
He stepped up first and casually bowled a strike like he did this every weekend.
You blinked. "Okay show off."
"What can I say?" He shrugged. "Some people are naturals."
You rolled your eyes and stepped up, only to immediately gutter ball your first attempt.
"I hate it here." You muttered, walking slowly back toward the bench.
"No no, come here." He gestured you back with both hands. "Let me help."
He came up behind you, a gentle hand grazing your forearm as he adjusted your stance. "Keep your wrist straight... hips square... and aim right at the second arrow." You turned slightly, your cheek nearly brushing his. "You sound like a yoga instructor."
He grinned. "I'm genuinely trying to help."
You rolled again, seven pins this time. "See?" He said, arms raised in victory. "Progress."
The rest of the game was a back and forth mess of laughter and trash talk. Every time you hit more than five pins, Jisung cheered like you won gold. When he missed a spare, you clutched your chest in fake disappointment. At one point he attempted a ridiculous victory dance, tripped over his own foot, and nearly wiped out completely. You were laughing so hard you had to sit down, wiping tears from your eyes. By the end of the night, you weren't even keeping score. Your cheeks ached from smiling, your stomach hurt from laughing and when you stepped back out into the night air, the warmth between you still lingered. Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye every few seconds like he wanted to say something.
"You're actually not that bad at bowling." He finally said.
You gave him a sideways glance. "Thanks."
He laughed under his breath, looking down at his shoes. He was charming in this disarming, genuine kind of way. Still shy, still awkward, but sweet. The car ride back was filled with the quiet hum of late night city streets— headlights flashing past, the low beat of music playing softly through the speakers. Neither of you talked much, but it wasn't uncomfortable. You sat with one leg tucked under the other, your head leaning back against the window, still smiling faintly from the last dumb thing he said at the bowling alley. Jisung glanced over every so often, just quick enough to not get caught. He pulled up in front of your place, shifting the car into park, but not turning it off yet. The glow from the streetlights lit the inside of the car in soft amber shadows across his face. "Well." You said, unbuckling your seatbelt slowly. "This was surprisingly fun."
He laughed under his breath. "You sound shocked."
You shrugged. "I just didn't expect to laugh that hard tonight or almost die from secondhand embarrassment."
"I told you my dance moves are a threat to national security." He said, shaking his head.
You smiled, hand already on the door handle, but not opening it yet. There was a hesitation in the air, like neither of you wanted the night to be over just yet. He looked at you, a little longer this time. "Thanks for coming, really."
"Thanks for inviting me."
His lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. He just sat there, watching you in that soft, careful way he always seemed to. "I'll text you?" He offered.
You nodded. "I'll be expecting it." You pushed the door open and started to step out, but his voice stopped you. "Hey, wait—" He leaned forward slightly. "I had a really good time."
You looked back at him, lingering in the open door. "Me too."
A few seconds passed, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. "Goodnight, Y/n."
You smiled warmly. "Goodnight, Jisung."
You shut the door gently behind you and started toward your building, the night air brushing against your skin, but before you reached the door you glanced over your shoulder. He was still there, car idling quietly, watching you with that same expression. When your eyes met again, he gave a small wave— just two fingers lifted off the steering wheel. You turned back around and smiled to yourself.
You sat on your bed, legs crossed under you, TV playing something forgettable in the background, but your mind kept wandering. Not to the show, not even to your next shoot. It kept circling back to earlier— to the way Jisung looked when he laughed, to how soft his voice was when he said goodnight. You unlocked your phone without thinking and typed something random.
You watched the bubble pop up and disappear a few times, like he was debating what to say next, but it stayed gone. You set your phone down beside you, a tiny smile on your lips.
═════════════════════════
Friday. Your phone buzzed with a text.
You ended up rolling into the shop around 6:07 PM, the sun just starting to dip behind the buildings, casting shadows across the sidewalk. You pushed open the glass door, the familiar scent of ink and disinfectant already hitting you. The girl at the front desk looked up with a polite smile. "Hey, how can I help you?"
"I'm here for a walk in. Jisung's doing it."
"Got it, one sec." She turned slightly in her chair and spoke toward the hallway behind her. "Jisung, your walk in's here!"
A few seconds later, he appeared— black shirt, hands slightly stained with ink, hair a little messy, and a soft smile on his lips. "Hey." He greeted, his voice easy.
"Hey." you echoed.
"I just need a few minutes to get everything set up." He said, already turning back down the hall. "I'll come grab you."
You waited a bit, leaning casually against the front counter until he returned with a nod. "All ready."
You followed him into the back, past half drawn curtains and the low hum of buzzing needles. "Same wrist you mentioned?" He asked as he snapped on gloves.
"Mhm." You held it out.
The setup was quick. He cleaned the area gently, then placed the stencil. You watched the concentration in his eyes as he lowered the needle to your skin, the machine vibrating softly as he began to work.
"You nervous?" He asked, eyes still focused.
"Please." You scoffed. "You've done worse spots."
He smiled under his breath. "True."
The two of you chatted idly while he worked— about random dreams you had, about his terrible taste in breakfast cereal, and a cat he met outside his apartment building that tried to follow him home. The tattoo didn't take long, just a small flower blooming delicately across your inner wrist. He wiped it down gently. "Done."
You looked it over, smiling. "It's perfect."
"Of course it is." He teased, pulling his gloves off. He leaned his head out the curtain. "Yo, I'm gonna walk her out real quick."
Someone's voice called back from the front: "All good, bro."
You both started walking toward the front together, but when you stopped at the counter, he turned back with a puzzled look.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm paying?" You said with a half laugh, pulling out your wallet.
He shook his head with a soft scoff. "C'mon."
You jogged after him out the door. You reached your car, unlocking it with a beep.
"I should pay you for this." You said, sliding your keys into your bag.
"It all goes back to you anyway." He said casually, looking off down the street like he was just saying facts.
Your brow furrowed. "Hmm?"
"These outings aren't paying themselves." He added, glancing at you with a grin.
You raised your eyebrows. "Oh, so it's going back to us, not just me."
He smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. "The subscription goes back to you."
There was a pause as you leaned against your car. "You still watch my content?" You asked, head tilting slightly.
He froze for just a second, then gave a smile. "Is that bad?"
You bit your lip, then stepped closer, hand gently placing itself on his chest. "I mean... no." You said slowly. "But you do realize I'm literally right here. I can touch you whenever."
His eyes dropped down to your hand, then back up again. "Eh, I mean... kinda." He joked, tone light, but with that signature nervous edge.
You let out a breathy laugh. "Wow... okay, I didn't know that's how you felt."
"Wait, no—" He started to defend himself.
But you were already smiling. "Come over tonight."
He blinked. "Yeah?"
You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. "I need some new content anyways." You muttered, mostly to yourself.
But he heard it and he grinned. "Okay."
═════════════════════════
You heard his car pull up just a few minutes after your last text, headlights flashing briefly through your window. Your stomach fluttered— not nerves, exactly, just... anticipation. You padded barefoot to the door and opened it before he even knocked. He was there, hands in his pockets, wearing that same hoodie from earlier, a quiet grin at the corner of his mouth. "Hey." He said.
"Come in."
You stepped back, letting him slip inside. You didn't say much, you didn't need to, just a glance over your shoulder as you led him down the short hallway to your room.
Once the door shut behind you both, you turned. "Strip." You said. "Everything but your underwear." His brow raised slightly, but he didn't argue. He pulled off his hoodie first, then his shirt, then his jeans until he was just standing there in black boxer briefs, looking at you with that quiet curiosity again, waiting. You nodded to the bed. "Sit."
He did. His thighs spread naturally, relaxed but expectant. You walked over to your drawer, pulling out blindfold. You watched the way his mouth parted slightly when he realized what it was. You stood in front of him and leaned in, looping it over his head. He didn't flinch, didn't question it— just tilted his chin up and let you tie it. Tight enough to block out the room, loose enough that it wouldn't leave a mark. You stepped back and watched the way his chest rose trying to stay calm. His hands twitched slightly on his thighs, then went still again.
You unscrewed your lipstick next. The click of the cap made him shift, just a small movement, but it was enough. You twisted the tube up, watching the deep red roll smoothly as you painted your lips before turning back towards him. You pressed record on the camera and approached.
Your hand found the edge of his jaw first, fingers sliding beneath his chin, tilting his head slightly to the left. You leaned in and kissed his cheek, not a peck, not rushed— slow, soft, lips warm against his skin. You lingered, just long enough for the imprint of your lipstick to stain him. You smiled against his skin, moving to his jaw. One kiss, then another, then a third. Each one dragged a little longer, your lips pressing harder, letting him feel the heat behind them. With every kiss, you felt the muscle under his skin tighten, the way his hands flexed slightly on the bed. Lower. Your mouth brushed his neck next, a kiss just below his ear, breath hot against the delicate skin there. He shivered, chest jerking slightly trying to play it cool. Another kiss, right at the pulse point under his jaw.
His throat vibrated against your mouth when he swallowed again. You sucked there, lips sealing tight, a bruise beginning to bloom. He let out a soft sound, something between a sigh and a groan— low and barely audible, but it vibrated through his whole body. Your fingers slid up his arm, keeping him steady. You worked lower, your lips moving down the center of his chest, then to the side, another kiss. His hands balled into fists again, knuckles blanching white for just a second before he forced himself to relax. Your mouth traveled to his ribs, dragging down, lips open just enough for your tongue to flick over skin. You sucked there too— another bruise. Then you moved to his arms. Lifting one gently, you kissed the inside of his bicep. A soft, warm kiss, lips parted slightly so your breath trailed after the touch. You moved to his wrist, kissing it slowly, right over the racing pulse beneath his skin.
You dragged your mouth back up, slower this time, letting your lips graze him the whole way up before switching sides. You kissed the other arm, this time with more pressure, more intent. Your hands kneaded his skin, tracing his muscles while your mouth made marks— ownership written in red and purple across his body. You pushed him back slightly, his legs shifted again— thighs spreading wider, hips tilting like he wasn't even aware of it. You kissed down his torso, soft kisses at first, just lips. Then harder, leaving bruises. Your mouth hovered just above the waistband of his boxers. You hooked your fingers into the elastic and tugged down slowly, just an inch, just enough to expose the sharp cut of his v-line. You kissed one side, lips dragging over the skin. Then the other, and this time you sucked hard, marking him deeply, right where his waistband would hide it later.
You lowered your mouth to his clothed cock, lips brushing over the outline beneath the fabric— soft, like a kiss, but too intimate to be innocent. A broken sound slipped from his throat, his hips jerking slightly before he forced himself still again, his jaw tense. Your mouth traveled to his thighs next. Your lipstick smeared in hot, wet patterns—some pressed gently, others you sucked just long enough to make him squirm, to make his fists clench in the sheets. By the time you sat back, his body was a canvas covered in lipstick prints, bruised in soft, scattered patches, his chest rising fast, flushed, trembling.
You tilted your head, admiring him. "Pretty." You whispered.
There was a long pause before he let out a breathy laugh, shaky and hoarse. "Wow... that was good." His hands twitched toward the blindfold, like he was going to pull it off, but before he could you caught his wrist, pinning them firmly back to the mattress. "I'm not done." Your voice was low, no room for questions.
He froze, lips parting. His skin was warm under your hands, muscles twitching beneath the tension, the need, but he didn't resist. He just stayed there blindfolded, trembling slightly.
"I'll be right back." You whispered, lips grazing his ear. He stayed still, breathing shaky, his fingers curling into the sheets the second your body left his. You caught the way his throat flexed as he swallowed, trying to stay composed, trying not to ask what was next. You spread his legs wider with your knee, settling onto one of his thighs. The heat of you against him made his hips shift slightly beneath you, almost like a reflex. You smirked, letting your hands skim up his chest, light as air, just to feel him tense. His skin was flushed, hot to the touch, trembling under you. You looked toward the camera with a small, sharp grin and held up the plastic cup. "Look what I have." You teased, shaking it gently.
The ice clinked against the sides. You pulled out a cube, rolling it between your fingers, letting a single drop fall onto his thigh. His whole body jerked under you. "Shit—" He bit back a groan, breath hitching.
"Mm, sensitive?" You smiled, dragging the ice up his torso.
"Fuck, that's cold." His voice was strangled, hips twitching beneath you, chest rising fast.
You pressed the ice right over his nipple, circling it, watching his back arch involuntarily beneath the touch. The cube slid, melting quickly against his flushed skin, leaving trails of water down his stomach. You dragged it lower, over the ridges of his abs. His fists balled into the sheets, his jaw clenched like he was trying to stop the noises, but they kept spilling out anyway— small whines between broken breaths. You pressed the ice harder against his other nipple. He gasped— his whole body twitched, chest jerking beneath you, lips parting as he sucked in air like he couldn't catch his breath. You dragged the ice down, circling his waistband. His cock twitched under the fabric of his boxers, straining against the wet cling of them now, the outline slick from the ice water dripping down. You pressed the cube against the bulge.
"Fuck— oh my god." He moaned, hips bucking up instinctively, his voice cracking with the desperation in his throat.
"Stay still." You whispered, your nails digging lightly into his thigh to pin him down.
"I'm trying—" He gasped, his whole body trembling under you.
Then an idea sparked in your mind. You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. "Can I spit in your mouth?" His breath stopped for a second. He nodded fast, mouth falling open immediately, head tilting back, tongue just barely peeking out like he couldn't help it. You laughed softly, dark and amused, pushing his face away by the chin. "Easy, baby."
A shaky whimper slipped out of him. You reached for another ice cube, twirling it between your fingers. "Ready?" You asked, pulling his face back toward you. He nodded hard, breathing fast, chest heaving, but instead of spit you dropped the ice cube right into his mouth. His throat jerked as he choked slightly on the cold shock, his body jolting beneath you. "Shit—!" He coughed, gasping, trying to catch his breath, water spilling from the corner of his mouth as he squirmed under you.You set the cup down quickly, reaching for the camera, flicking it off in one smooth motion, climbing off his lap and pulling the blindfold away. "Are you okay?"
He coughed once more but nodded, laughing breathlessly, eyes glassy. "Yeah— yeah, I'm fine—" He rubbed at his throat, his lips wet, chest still heaving. "Just—" He laughed again, voice raspy. "Just kinda bummed out that it was ice instead."
You laughed too, brushing a hand through his hair. "I can still do it."
He shot you a grin, lips twitching."But the camera isn't on."
"So?"
That froze him for a second— his pupils dilated, his mouth still half open like he wanted to say something but forgot how.
You climbed back into his lap, settling down against him again, fingers tilting his chin up. "Open."
He did, lips parting slowly this time, his breath hot against your palm. You spit into his mouth— slow, controlled, watching him swallow it without hesitation, his eyes fluttering shut. When he opened his eyes again he looked starstruck. Totally, completely gone. You smiled wickedly and climbed off him. "Now." You said, with a playful sharpness. "Get out of my house."
His head snapped up, blinking. "But—"
You raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed, waiting. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, struggling to find the words. His voice cracked when he finally spoke.
"You— you never get to feel good." He stammered. "If you know what I mean."
Your lips curled into a smile. "I do get to feel good."
He shook his head, still flushed. "No— I mean with us."
You laughed softly, your tone light but your eyes sharp. "I know what you meant."
There was a pause, your gaze steady, his heart visibly racing in his chest. "I just don't like feeling like someone has the power over me." You added honestly.
He reached out, palm open, offering his hand. "Then control me." His voice cracked on it, barely above a whisper. "Tell me to do anything, I'll do it. I just— I just want to make you feel good." His face was flushed, lips wet, breath still ragged from everything you'd done, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. You paused, letting the silence stretch for a moment, debating, but then you took his hand, fingers curling tightly around his. You climbed back into his lap, knees on either side of him, your mouth brushing just below his ear.
"Alright." You whispered. You settled into his lap, thighs snug around his hips, your fingers still curled around his hand like you weren't quite ready to let go of the control you had. His chest was rising fast beneath you, but he stayed still waiting.
"Start kissing my neck." You whispered, lips just inches from his ear. There was no hesitation. He leaned in instantly, mouth finding your throat, breath hot and shaky as his lips pressed against your skin. At first, he was careful— soft kisses, just lips, like he thought he needed permission to do more, but the second you tilted your head back exposing more of your neck to him, he lost the edge of his restraint. His mouth opened, tongue flicking over the delicate skin just below your jaw.
"Fuck." You whispered, eyes fluttering closed, fingers threading into the back of his hair. He groaned softly against your neck, lips dragging lower, warm and wet, sucking a little harder now. He kissed beneath your ear, then down the side of your throat, teeth just barely grazing. A soft noise slipped from you, something breathy and involuntary, but his mouth kept moving— messier and needier. Your fingers tightened in his hair. "Now touch me." He let out a hot, shaky breath against your skin. His hands slid down, eagerly, roaming over your sides, down to your hips. His palms were warm, fingers curling around your thighs like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.
He pulled you in closer, pressing you down into his lap, grinding you softly against him without even realizing he was doing it. You let him for a second. Then you guided his hands lower, fingers threading through his, controlling the pace, the pressure. "Inside." You whispered, dragging his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. His breath stuttered, completely wrecked now, but he obeyed. His fingers slid between your folds, slow at first, testing the wetness there, like he needed to make sure it was real. His lips parted against your neck.
"Jesus, you're so—"
"Shut up." You whispered, smiling as you said it.
He groaned into your throat, fingers moving again, slipping deeper this time, circling exactly where you wanted him. Your hips rolled forward just slightly, pressing into his palm, letting the contact build. His lips pressed harder against your neck, sucking another mark into your skin. You felt his breath catch again, his fingers trembling a little but never stopping. "Is this good?" He whispered against your skin, voice wrecked, desperate to please. You didn't answer right away, just let him keep going, hands on his shoulders, hips rocking slow. You whispered back, lips barely brushing his ear. "I'll tell you when to stop."
His fingers moved slower now, but you could feel the tension in him like he was barely holding back from falling apart just from this. His lips stayed glued to your neck, mouth open, breath hot and desperate as he kissed you harder, messier, like he needed the taste of your skin just to breathe. You rocked into his hand again, guiding his fingers exactly where you wanted them.
"Fuck—" He whispered into your throat, voice breaking, his palm flexing beneath your heat.
"Did I ask you to speak?" You murmured, cutting him off with a whisper against his temple. He froze for half a second, swallowing hard. Then he nodded quickly, lips still pressed to your skin. You clenched softly around his fingers. "Keep going." You whispered. He did, fingers curling just right, his other hand griping your thigh, grounding himself there like he thought he might fall apart if he let go. You moved your hips again, letting a soft moan escape, and he whimpered into your neck.
"Please—" He whispered, barely audible, like he didn't even realize he was begging.
"Please what?" You teased, lips grazing his ear.
"I—I don't know." He breathed, voice wrecked. "I just— fuck, I want you to feel good."
"I do feel good." You whispered, rolling your hips a little faster against his hand, chasing more friction. His lips pressed harder to your throat, his breath shivering.
"I can tell." He whispered, barely audible. "You're so wet, you're—"
You cut him off again by tightening your grip in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "Focus."
"Yes, I am—" He stammered, his fingers moving faster, matching your pace now, his body tense beneath yours like he was on the edge of breaking just from watching you.
You let your forehead rest against his, your mouth right at his ear. "Don't stop."
His lips were trembling against your skin, his hand moving perfectly, his whole body shaking under you as you chased your own climax right there in his lap, controlling the rhythm, the pace, everything— he loved every second of it. Your breath started to falter, hips moving sharper now riding his hand, using him exactly the way you wanted, the way he begged you to. His fingers slipped perfectly in you, soaked and slick, and the sound of it filled the space between you, mixing with the gasps leaving both your lips.
"You're close, aren't you?" He whispered, voice ragged against your throat, but his hand never stopped moving.
You dragged your nails down his back, hard enough to make him shiver. "I said focus."
He let out a choked sound, his breath hitting your neck, lips parted. "Y-yes, I'm— fuck, I'm sorry—" His fingers worked faster, messier now, thigh flexing beneath you as you rolled your hips again, chasing it. "I love this." He whispered, almost to himself, almost like he didn't realize he was saying it out loud. "I love how you use me."
That made you moan softly into his ear, your forehead resting against his as you ground down harder, your thighs starting to shake. "Don't you dare stop." You hissed, voice rough with the heat in your chest.
"I won't— I won't." His voice cracked, and you felt his cock twitch beneath you, trapped between your bodies, straining against the tight, wet fabric of his boxers. "I wanna make you cum." He whispered, almost delirious, almost crying it out. "
"You will." You breathed, grinding harder, your release curling hot in your stomach, your body pulsing around his fingers. Your moan slipped out before you could stop it, louder this time, right in his ear, and his whole body shuddered beneath you like the sound alone wrecked him.
"Fuck— you're so— oh my god, you're so perfect." His lips pressed desperately to your neck again, open mouthed kisses, panting against your skin as he felt you fall over the edge.
Your climax hit hard, your hips jerking in his lap, thighs tightening around him, your hands fisting in his hair as you moaned right into his ear."Fuck, that's it." You gasped, riding it out. He whimpered beneath you, his cock twitching helplessly, precum soaking through his boxers, but he didn't dare stop moving his hand. His fingers kept working you, even as you shook through it, overstimulation full in your core, but you let it happen, let him serve you until your thighs finally trembled and you had to still his wrist. You caught your breath, chest heaving, lips still pressed against his jaw. His eyes were glassy, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
"Did I do good?" He whispered, still shaking slightly, his hand loosening under yours.
You smiled, brushing your lips across his ear, breathless. "You did perfect."
His whole body sagged with relief, his forehead falling against your shoulder, sweat slick against your skin. You got off him slowly, catching your breath, fingers slipping from his skin. His chest was rising, lips parted, red lipstick still smeared faintly across his jaw and collarbone, every kiss you left visible. You glanced toward the mirror across the room, your reflection catching your eye and you freeze. Your neck is marked too, subtly at first, but then more, each bruise blossoming in soft, uneven shapes. Behind you the bed shifted. He stood up slowly, following your gaze to the mirror. The second he saw himself, his eyes widen. "Holy shit." He muttered under his breath.
You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned against your desk. "How cute."
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at the bruises on his chest, the red prints along his ribs, the smudges of lipstick on his collarbone. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. You grabbed your phone from your desk. "Can I take a picture?"
He hesitated, then gave a crooked, embarrassed smile. "Uh... sure?"
You stepped beside him, arm brushing his as you pull him in. He puts up a peace sign, still looking half stunned, while you grin and stick your tongue out at the camera.
Then the thunder cracked... loud. It rattled the windows and stole the air from the room. "Shit." You muttered under your breath, turning toward the sound. He blinked, glancing at his phone. "Storm's hitting earlier than they said, but I'll be fine. I can still leave."
You look at him. "You know how anxious I get about people driving in thunderstorms."
"I know." He said gently, rubbing his wrist. "But really, I'll be okay."
You hesitated, staring at the floor for a second too long before your voice came quieter: "But I won't be." That silence hung between you for a moment too long. "It's fine. You can have the couch for the night."
He immediately started to protest. "Y/n, if you don't feel comfortable with me staying— really, I can just chill in the car til the rain slows down."
"There's barely a difference." You cut in, shaking your head. "Just stay, I insist."
He searches your face for a moment. "Okay."
You glanced down at him— still in nothing but his underwear. "Are you sure you're good with... that?" You asked, gesturing lightly toward what he's wearing.
He looked down at himself like he kind of forgotten. "Oh— uh, yeah. I mean, I've got some extra clothes in the car if you want me to put something on."
You tilted your head. "Why do you have extra clothes in your car?"
He shrugged. "Just in case. I figured, if you ever asked me to stay again for a movie or something..."
You laughed, shaking your head. "You're okay with what you have on now."
You grabbed a throw blanket from the basket near the couch and a pillow from the closet, placing both on the armrest as he trailed behind you. The lights are soft in the hallway, and the rain's beginning to pour heavy against the windows. "If you need anything just knock, or text. Don't come creeping around like a weirdo." You said. He gave you a lazy smile, holding the blanket like he's suddenly shy again. "Got it."
You walked back to your room, closing the door softly behind you, the faint sound of rain and thunder dulling the silence. You toss again. Then once more, flipping your pillow over in frustration as the sound of the rain drums steadily against the windows. Sleep felt impossible— your mind restless, your body too aware of its own warmth, like it's remembering the imprint of his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at you. You sighed, sitting up. Maybe water would help... or maybe you just want to check on him. Padding quietly down the hall, you find the light from the living room dim— the TV off, but the glow of a phone screen soft across his face. Jisung's lying on the couch, blanket twisted around his legs, one arm tucked behind his head, completely absorbed in whatever he's reading. You stopped at the edge of the hallway, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "Are you seriously reading fanfics right now?"
He jolted— not a little flinch, but a full body twitch like he just got caught sneaking candy after bedtime. He yelps under his breath, clutching the phone to his chest face down. "No—" He said too quickly, voice high with guilt.
You bite your lip to keep from laughing. He finally looks up at you, chest still heaving a little. "You scared me."
"I bet I did." You murmured, walking into the room.
He watched you, eyes still a little wide as you step past him toward the kitchen. "What are you doing up?"
"Can't sleep." You said simply as you grab a glass from the cabinet. "You?"
He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "Same. Your couch is nice but... not exactly sleep conducive."
You took a sip and glance toward him again. The way the blanket's half draped over his lap, his hoodie slightly off one shoulder, his hair messy, lips a little pink from chewing on them too much. Something about it makes you soften without meaning to. You walk back over and plop down beside him on the couch, your knee brushing his. "Wanna watch something? Just to pass time."
He tilted his head toward you. "Yeah, that sounds good."
You grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on, scrolling through your usual comfort movies. He shifts beside you, adjusting the blanket to cover you too without asking. You don't comment on it, just smile faintly and kept scrolling. Neither of you made it twenty minutes in. Your head tipped sideways first. His eyes fluttered closed not long after. The rain becomes background static as the movie played on in soft light, and the two of you drift slowly into sleep.
Together, under the same blanket, your head resting on his shoulder.
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You woke up to the soft hum of a TV screen left on overnight. Your eyes fluttered open, vision blurry for a moment as the living room comes into focus. And then you feel it, warmth. A weight near you and the faint rhythm of someone's breathing. You shifted slightly, realizing your head had been resting against Jisung's shoulder, your hand curled just inches from his chest. You blink, tilting your head up only to find him already awake, sitting unnaturally still, looking straight ahead like he's trying not to move a single muscle. His eyes darted down to you, and a low laugh slipping from his lips. "You're awake, thank god. I've been frozen like this for twenty minutes."
You let out a sleepy chuckle, rubbing your face as you sat up. "Why didn't you just move?"
"I didn't wanna wake you up." He said, stretching his arms out with a groan. "You looked peaceful, and kind of terrifying. Like if I moved and woke you up, you'd kill me."
You laughed. "I probably would've."
You both sat there for a moment in comfortable silence, legs tangled in the blanket. The movie on screen had long since ended, the Netflix menu playing some random background track. He looked over at you, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wanna grab breakfast?"
You paused, brushing hair off your cheek. "Now?"
"Yeah, my treat."
You smiled. "Sure."
The diner was quiet, you sit across from each other, still in the clothes from yesterday, looking just rumpled enough to feel like a secret. You talk about the weirdest things— childhood food obsessions, which colors feel the most like you. You argue about the best kind of breakfast food and laugh when he gets too serious about pancakes. There's no pressure, no flirtation that feels heavy, just air between you that's weightless. He drove you back to your place afterward, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. When you got to your door he turned to you, rocking back on his heels a little. "Thanks for letting me stay last night and... for breakfast."
"You paid."
"I mean for going with me." He said with a small smile.
You nod, leaning against the doorframe. "Anytime."
He lingered there a second too long, then finally backs away, giving you a little salute.
"See you soon, okay?"
═════════════════════════
You and Jisung had grown closer. Closer than you'd ever imagine you and a fan would be. It started as something casual, but now you hung out more often, texted nearly every day. He was genuinely funny, surprisingly thoughtful, and his awkwardness had started to grow on you. You could truly say Jisung was a friend now. So it felt completely valid to text him late one night when boredom had you tossing and turning.
Thirty five minutes later
You opened the door, barefoot in an oversized tee, and he stood there holding a small overnight bag with a smile and slightly damp hair from the rain. "Sorry, I had to stop for gas." He said, flushed as always.
"Hi." You greeted, stepping aside. "I was about to replace you with an episode of Kitchen Nightmares."
He laughed as he stepped inside, his sneakers squeaking faintly against your floors. "Honestly, Gordon Ramsay's probably more emotionally available than me."
You raised a brow. "I'm glad you're self aware."
He followed you into the living room, and you both sank into the couch. The TV played low in the background while you passed a bowl of popcorn between your laps. He was a little awkward still— thigh angled away from you, fingers twitching when you brushed against his arm, but there was something comfortable about it now. You teased each other, shared dumb stories. At one point, he shifted and stood up. "I'm thirsty." He said stretching. "Want anything?"
"I'm good." You said, watching him wander into your kitchen like it was his own.
From the couch, you called. "Hey, what do you even carry in that bag? It's huge for just a night."
He laughed from the kitchen, voice light. "Uh, emergency kit."
You smirked. "Can I look inside?"
"Sure—" He started. Then, like it clicked all at once, he suddenly shouted. "Wait— no, wait, wait—!"
Too late. Your hand was already in the bag, fingers brushing over a soft, unmistakable piece of black lace. Your brows furrowed as you slowly pulled it out. Your underwear... dirty, used, definitely yours. Your body froze, and his face was already turning beet red. He stumbled back into the living room, hands out like he could rewind time. "I— okay— okay, wait, I can explain—" He sputtered.
You blinked, holding it like it was some fragile artifact. "Why the hell do you have my underwear, Jisung?"
"I didn't— I wasn't gonna do anything with it, I swear, I just— I found it in my hoodie pocket and I didn't know how to give it back without it being... weird." He said, face glowing with mortification. "So I panicked and just— stuffed it in the bag. I meant to— I meant to throw it out! I just forgot—!" You stared at him, dead silent as he kept rambling. "I wasn't trying to be a creep, I swear, I've never even— I don't, like, sniff it or anything, I just— I didn't wanna make things awkward, and I— shit, this sounds so much worse—"
You finally cut him off. "Stay right here."
He blinked. "Wait— what?"
But you were already walking away, clutching the underwear and disappearing into your room, closing the door behind you. You stood in silence for a moment, the lace dangling from your fingers, your heart pounding too fast and too loud for you to think clearly. You sat on the edge of your bed, mentally preparing to either kick him out or scold the hell out of him, but another thought kept flashing through your head. An image of him, flustered and wide eyed, practically vibrating with nervous energy. Of the way he looked at you earlier, not quite brave enough to flirt outright, but never pulling away either. You looked around your room slowly. First, your eyes landed on the camera, still on its tripod from a shoot earlier. Then, you spotted the silk fabric draped loosely on the back of your chair. Smooth, strong, something that might look good wrapped around someone's wrists. You exhaled through your nose. An idea flickered behind your eyes like a match catching flame. Your fingers curled around the fabric and you stood, cracking the open your door. "Jisung." You called softly.
His head turned, he looked like he was trying not to breathe.
"Come here."
He didn't even hesitate, just stood up, palms rubbing down the front of his pants like he was trying to compose himself. Still awkward, still nervous, but definitely curious. He stepped toward your room. "... Are you gonna kill me?" He asked, peeking in. You tilted your head and smirked, letting the silk slip between your fingers. You didn't speak at first, you just looked at him, letting the silence stretch long enough for the weight of it to settle between his shoulders, heavy and suffocating. Long enough for his gaze to drop, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. "Do you know how disgusting that was?" You finally said, your voice low. You weren't shouting, you didn't need to, every syllable landed like a sharp slap. His throat bobbed, lips parted. "I— I wasn't—"
"A liar." You cut in, stepping closer, your eyes locked on him. "You lied to my face."
His mouth hung open, but the words fell flat under the weight of your stare. His shoulders rounded in on themselves, posture folding. "Pervert." You added, quieter this time, almost amused. Without warning, you reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt. "Arms up." There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but his body obeyed before his mind caught up, his arms lifted shakily over his head. You peeled the shirt off him slowly, letting your fingers graze his skin as you pulled it over his shoulders. You tossed it aside like it was nothing, like he was nothing. "Pants too." His eyes flicked up to yours, uncertain.
Your gaze narrowed. "What? Shy now?" His hands fumbled at his waistband, clumsy under your eyes, his fingers slipping twice before he managed to unbutton his pants. He stepped out of them, standing there in nothing but his black boxers, the fabric stretched taut over his bulge. He didn't try to hide it, he knew better than to cover himself.
"Sit." You commanded, nodding toward the bed. He sat instantly, perching at the edge like someone awaiting punishment, his thighs spread slightly, his hands resting useless in his lap. You turned away without another word, walking over to your dresser. The silence grew heavier. He shifted behind you, the sound of the bedsheets rustling under his thighs, his breathing shallow, but audible. You opened the drawer slowly, fingers hovering over what you needed. You wanted him to listen to this part— the quiet click of the drawer, the metallic scrape of small objects inside, the soft sound of silk fabric sliding beneath your fingertips. "Did you use them?" You asked, your voice smooth, almost casual. You didn't bother to look back at him. The question hung in the air. "Be honest." You added, quieter now. "I already know the answer."
There was a pause. "...Yes."
Your jaw tensed, eyes narrowing slightly at the drawer as you closed it with a soft, final snap.
"I didn't mean to take them." He rushed out, his words coming fast, frantic. "I swear— after I found them, I didn't know how to give them back. I wasn't trying to be—"
"Then why'd you lie?" You asked, voice still calm, your back still to him. Silence. You turned slowly, something glinting in your hand. The sleek vibrator gleamed under the soft light of the room— polished, charged, ready. His eyes dropped automatically to it then they flicked back up, locking onto yours. His lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but his throat worked uselessly, no sound coming out.
"It's because you're a pervert, right?" Your tone was silk wrapped steel, sweet on the outside, sharp beneath. His gaze dropped again, shame crawling across his face like heat, but he nodded once. You hummed softly, amused, stepping toward him with the kind of calm that made people nervous. Your grip tightened on the second object in your hand— the strip of soft, black silk. He watched you approach, lips parted, breath shallow. He didn't speak again. Didn't protest when you stepped behind him, sliding the silk around his wrists. Didn't flinch when you pulled them back, binding them tightly together— wrist to wrist, palms pressed, fingers curling reflexively as the fabric cinched closed. Your breath ghosted across the back of his neck as you tied the knot slowly. You let your nails scrape just lightly against his skin, enough to make him shiver. "Look at you." You murmured, your mouth brushing the shell of his ear. His breath came out in a shaky exhale.
You felt the tremble in his arms, the faintest twitch of his hips on the bed and you smiled, dragging your fingers down the line of his spine, nails grazing, just enough to keep him in place. You stepped in front of him, standing between his parted thighs, your eyes dropping to his lap. His cock was already straining against the thin fabric of his boxers, twitching slightly beneath the waistband. Your finger traced the line of his jaw, tilting his face up so he couldn't hide from your gaze. "Already hard, just from getting caught. That's pathetic. Say it."
His brows pinched slightly.
"Say. It."
"I'm—" His voice broke, barely above a whisper. "I'm pathetic."
"And?"
His chest rose in a shudder. "I'm... a pervert."
You smiled, dragging your nails softly down his chest, leaving faint lines in their wake. "That's right." You whispered, lips brushing his ear. "A pathetic little pervert who gets off stealing my underwear and lying to my face."
His hips shifted slightly, the tension in his body already vibrating beneath your hands. "Keep still." You warned, pressing your palm flat against his thigh to steady him. Then you reached for the vibrator. You switched it on the low hum filled the room.
"You want this?" He nodded quickly, shame flushed across his face.
"Of course you do." You murmured, dragging the tip slowly up his stomach, letting the cold edge of it skim his skin before you pressed it, suddenly, directly onto his bulge. His whole body jerked. "F-fuck— oh my God—" The sound that tore from his throat was raw, almost helpless. His hips bucked once before he tried to still them, thighs trembling. You pressed the vibrator harder against him, right over the thick heat of his cock trapped beneath his boxers.
"Quiet." But he didn't listen, he couldn't listen. Loud, choked moans spilled out of him, louder than before, his head tipping back, throat exposed as his body writhed under the stimulation.
"I said quiet."
Still, he gasped, begging now. "I— I can't—I can't—please, please, I'm gonna—"
Your eyes narrowed. Without a word, you reached for the crumpled fabric beside you— the very pair of underwear you'd caught him with. His eyes went wide when he saw it. "No wait—"
Too late. You shoved the panties between his lips, muffling his sounds instantly. His eyes squeezed shut, a whimper breaking through his nose as his head tipped back, face flushed and humiliated. The vibrator stayed right where you placed it. He shook beneath you, hips jerking uncontrollably, his cock twitching violently under the fabric. You watched him— body arching, thighs shaking, muffled cries pouring out from behind the gag as he came into his underwear, but you didn't stop. You didn't even slow down. His entire body went tight, toes curling, wrists pulling at the silk restraint behind his back as the vibrator kept going, buzzing cruelly against his overstimulated cock.
His eyes watered, his chest heaving in short, sharp bursts. "Mmmph—" His muffled noises cracked through the fabric, desperate, trembling. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, but you just smiled, watching his body spasm beneath you. His hips bucked again, helpless. Sweat slicked his chest, his legs twitched, jerking slightly off the bed. Still, you pressed the vibrator harder. "Poor thing." You whispered, eyes locked on his face, loving every shiver, every gasping sob behind the panties in his mouth. "So fucking weak. Can't even handle a little extra attention."
He moaned again, high and choked. You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered: "I'm not even close to finished with you." His whole body shook. You could feel it, the exhaustion setting in, the nerves raw and ruined, but he wasn't saying no. He couldn't and you loved watching him try to take it. "Mmmph—" His hips bucked one last time, jerking against the vibrator, even though his cock was still pulsing, wet beneath his boxers. He was crying openly now— tears streaking his cheeks, his head pressing back into the mattress, lips trembling around the soaked fabric gag. And you kept going. Your free hand dragged up his stomach, nails grazing over his skin again, gentle, almost soothing, completely at odds with the cruelty of the toy pressed to his cock.
"You're gonna learn your place." You whispered. Another strangled, muffled moan broke from him, his body bucking once more. You watched his chest rise and fall, frantic, like his body didn't know how to calm down. His muscles twitched beneath sweat slicked skin, cock still twitching under the soaked fabric of his boxers. And you still didn't stop. You leaned in, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear. "Round two." You whispered, voice sweet, but merciless. "Since you're so desperate." A soft, panicked noise slipped through the panties stuffed in his mouth, muffled and pathetic. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and dazed. Your hand slid down between his legs again, pressing the vibrator harder against his cock. His hips jerked off the bed, a high, strangled whimper pouring from his throat. You smiled, dragging the toy up just slightly, circling it along the sensitive line of his shaft through his boxers, smearing his own mess across the fabric as you worked. "You're disgusting."
His back arched, tears streaking down his temples. His thighs trembled uncontrollably, his cock was hard again— twitching, throbbing, still leaking through ruined fabric, desperate for more even though he clearly couldn't take it. Your free hand traced circles on his chest, nails scratching lightly, enough to make him shiver. "You like this, don't you?" He whimpered through the gag, panting hard through his nose."Fucking say it." His hands twisted in the silk binding behind his back, but his hips betrayed him— still bucking against the toy like he couldn't help himself. His lips flexed against the panties in his mouth, drool starting to spill from the corner of his lips as he mumbled: "Mmm—yesss—mmmh—"
"Of course you do." You laughed softly, leaning closer, pressing the vibrator harder.
His cock throbbed against it, overstimulated beyond logic, his whole body shaking now. "You're fucking sick." You whispered into his ear. "Crying and coming in your boxers like a little pervert. And you'll do it again, won't you?" His eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking out fresh, his throat working around desperate, muffled sounds, but he nodded... fast. The vibrator stayed right there— pressed directly over his most sensitive spot. He was soaked, breath ragged, but his hips still rolled toward the pressure, chasing something his body refused to stop craving.
"God, look at you." You murmured, nails raking softly down his stomach. "You're not even thinking anymore, are you?" He let out another choked noise, throat tight, noises spilling out without rhythm— half sobs, half moans, everything mixing into one messy sound. You dragged the vibrator up slightly, circling the swollen head of his cock through his boxers, grinding it in slow, taunting circles. "Say you love it." You whispered, breath warm against his cheek. His whole body convulsed, thighs tensing under you. "Mmm— I love— mmmhh—" His voice cracked under the gag, but the words came out anyway, slurred and muffled.
His cock twitched again— wetness spreading even further through his ruined boxers as he came for the second time, hips bucking, a full body shake through him as muffled cries broke out against the fabric in his mouth. Hot, messy release soaked through his underwear, his whole body limp except for the shaking and still, you didn't pull the vibrator away. His throat made soft, broken whimpering sounds, tears slipping down his cheeks. His hips jerked again. You leaned in, kissed the corner of his jaw—faking sweetness. "You're gonna thank me for this later." You whispered.
His eyes barely stayed open, lips trembling, body twitching like he didn't know where he ended and the sensation began. You smiled, finally switching off the toy, but keeping it pressed against him while he shivered through the aftershocks, dripping wet. His chest rose and fell slowly, a sheen of sweat still glinting at his collarbone in the low light. The silk ties hung limp behind him now, wrists red from the strain, mouth gagged. He looked completely unraveled, sprawled out, quiet, almost dazed. You stood over him for a moment, just watching him breathe. Then you turned toward the door. "I'm gonna go finish my show." You said, voice casual, almost bored. You left him there like that.
Fifteen minutes passed. You really did go back to your show, sat cross legged on the couch like nothing happened. Half listened to the dialogue, half listened for movement in the other room. Eventually, curiosity, or something else pulled you back down the hallway. You cracked the bedroom door open quietly. He was still there. Still tied, still shirtless, eyes closed now. His head tilted slightly to the side, lashes resting against his cheeks, breathing slow. Twitching faintly with aftershocks in his legs, like his body hadn't fully settled. You stepped in quietly and knelt beside the bed. With careful fingers, you pulled the underwear from his mouth. He made a small sound, half a gasp, half a sigh. You loosened the knot behind his back and finally freed his wrists, the red indentations deepening for a moment before beginning to fade. He blinked at you as he sat up slowly, dazed and flushed. "You didn't take anything, did you?" Your eyes met his briefly as you smirked.
He looked like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "No— I didn't... I swear, I didn't mean—"
"Don't." You cut him off, not unkindly, just final. "Go to the living room. Be gone by morning."
He stared at you for a second too long, trying to read you. Maybe hoping for softness, forgiveness, but all you gave him was stillness. He nodded slowly, wordless. Picked up his pants, pulled them on, then grabbed his crumpled shirt from the floor. He lingered at the door for just a second, bare feet on the carpet, one hand gripping the frame like he was going to say something else, but he didn't. He just left the room. You exhaled slowly, then sat back on the bed, finally letting your body relax against the mattress, quiet again. Like nothing happened.
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You woke up to silence. No noise from the kitchen, no sound of him fumbling with his shoes by the door, nothing. You got up and made your way into the living room. No sign of him, no mess, not even a pillow out of place. You sunk into the couch, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and turning on a show to fill the quiet. Then your phone buzzed once, then again and again, until it was practically vibrating out of your lap.
About thirty minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it slowly and blinked at him, squinting at the boxes, then back at him. "Two boxes?"
He blinked, panic flickering across his face. "I didn't know how hungry you'd be— I just... I didn't wanna mess it up. I swear I wasn't overthinking it—"
"You weren't?"
"Okay, maybe a little." He admitted, wide eyed. "But I really am sorry. Please still be my friend."
You stared at him, completely unbothered by his spiral. Then you laughed, covering your mouth with your sleeve as a grin slipped out. "You are such a loser." His shoulders slumped like that was confirmation of his worst fears, until you added, still laughing softly: "I'm not gonna stop being your friend."
He looked up. "Really?"
"Nope." You said, stepping aside and opening the door wider. "Come in before the pizza gets cold." He smiled as he stepped past you, his shoulder brushing yours lightly. The scent of warm cheese and garlic filled the apartment as he carried the boxes to the coffee table. You flopped down onto the couch beside him as he opened the boxes. "Okay." You said, peering over his arm. "You really went for it, huh"
"I panicked." He mumbled, already grabbing a slice. "I figured food was safer than words at this point."
You raised an eyebrow. "So you bribed me."
He gave you a little smile. "Is it working?"
You shrugged, biting into a slice. "I mean... I'm chewing, so."
He laughed, finally relaxing back into the couch. "I'll take it."
You both ate in silence for a bit, the TV still playing some random show in the background, something neither of you were really watching. You caught him glancing at you a couple times. Not in a weird way, just... like he was checking to make sure you were still there. He wiped his hands on a napkin and reached for a garlic knot. "So just so we're clear I'm never stealing again... ever.. from anyone."
"Oh yeah?" You said, grabbing a drink.
He held up a hand, like he was swearing an oath. "Absolutely. I've been spiritually humbled."
"By your own perviness?"
"Exactly." He popped the knot into his mouth. "You know, I actually considered just mailing them back anonymously, but then I imagined you calling the cops anyway and the crime lab being like, uh, we got DNA.'"
You burst out laughing, almost spilling your drink. "You would've been in the news. Idiot arrested for mailing back stolen panties."
He grinned. "That's not even the worst headline I've imagined about myself lately."
"Oh no?" You teased, stretching your legs across his lap. "What's worse than panty pirate caught in crossfire?"
He thought about it. "...Aspiring DJ found crying in stairwell after being rejected by hot friend."
You pretended to gasp, dramatically covering your mouth. "Wait... aspiring DJ?"
"Shut up." He groaned, tossing a piece of crust at you. "It's still a work in progress."
You batted the crust away, smiling so hard your face started to ache. "You're ridiculous."
"You enable me."
Eventually, you leaned back with a full belly and a sigh. "Okay, I might forgive you, for tonight at least."
He leaned his head against the back of the couch. "I'll take what I can get."
You tilted your head to look at him. "So do I have to hide everything in my apartment now?"
He blinked, then cracked a slow grin. "...Only the good stuff."
You smacked his arm with a throw pillow. "Loser."
"You already said that."
You hit him softly with the pillow. "I'll say it again."
He grabbed the pillow from you and hugged it like a shield. "Harassment."
"You like it."
"I really do."
You rolled your eyes, settling deeper into the couch, your foot still resting casually across his lap. Just pizza, and a stupid boy who somehow always made you laugh.
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You were flopped across your couch, wrapped in a blanket, half watching a comfort show for the third time this week, then your phone buzzed beside you. You grabbed it lazily, expecting spam or a random notification, but paused at the blurry photo that popped up. Was that... neon? A wheel? A blur of lights?
You let out a small laugh, phone cradled to your chest like it had personally entertained you. The screen dimmed, but your smile didn't. You were already kind of looking forward to tomorrow.
═════════════════════════
Jisung pulled up to your place five minutes early, texting you a simple "here" followed by one of his kaomojis. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag, already smiling as you stepped outside. He leaned over to unlock the passenger door, grinning when you climbed in. "You look like you're about to fight a clown."
You buckled your seatbelt with a smirk. "Maybe I am."
He laughed, putting the car in drive. "Remind me to stay on your good side tonight."
"As long as I get my cotton candy." You said.
"And as long as I don't get dragged into another X-meals debate." He muttered, but you caught the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The carnival was lively when you arrived— lights blinking, music playing from too many speakers at once. Jisung handed over your tickets like he was VIP, grinning when your fingers brushed. "Shall we?" You spent the next hour racing each other on water guns, failing miserably at ring toss, and sharing a funnel cake that ended up all over both your fingers. At one point, he gave you a plush banana that he definitely didn't win himself. "Don't ask questions." He said, handing it to you solemnly. As the sun dipped lower, you both found yourselves walking toward the Ferris wheel. You nudged him with your elbow. "You've been staring at that thing all night."
He shrugged, looking up at it. "It's the classic move, right? Big wheel, big moment."
You didn't notice right away, but as you both got in line and started inching toward the front, Jisung got... quieter. His usual commentary fizzled into distracted hums and half responses. By the time you were being ushered into your little swinging cart, he barely said a word. The ride operator opened the gate and waved you both in. You climbed into the little cart and sat down, and Jisung followed, very... still. You glanced at him. "Wait— are you good?"
"Totally." He said a little too quickly, eyes fixed straight ahead. "This is fine."
You stifled a smile. "You're scared of heights."
"I'm not—" He started, but you raised your brows, and he sighed in defeat. "Okay...maybe... a little."
The cart jerked as it started to rise, and his hand instinctively reached out, grabbing yours without looking. You blinked down at your intertwined fingers, then looked at him. He finally turned his head, cheeks tinted pink. "I wasn't trying to—"
"No, no." You said, grinning. "You're good. We'll just sit here, breathe and don't look down."
"I already looked down."
You laughed and scooted closer, brushing a stray bit of hair from his forehead. "It's okay, just look at me."
He did. His eyes were a little wide, but the tension in his jaw started to ease. You kept your voice light. "See? Not so bad."
He let out a small breath. "You're distracting."
"Good." You said, smiling. "That's the goal."
You sat like that for a moment, the lights of the carnival twinkling below, his hand still loosely in yours. The ride creaked upward again, pausing briefly at the very top. He let out a shaky exhale, eyes locked on yours now instead of the endless void below. You could feel his breath warming the space between you. He leaned in just a little, you did too, closer and closer— but just before your lips met, you blinked, pulled back, and cleared your throat. "Um— ooo, the view is nice." You said, a little too brightly, twisting in your seat and dramatically gesturing at the carnival lights. "So colorful." Jisung blinked at you like he'd forgotten where he was then he laughed, quick and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Right, yeah. Super colorful."
There was a pause, then at the same time: "Sorry."
You both laughed. "Wanna pretend that didn't happen?" He asked, still red in the face.
You smiled. "Too late. I'm never letting you forget this."
"Right next to X-meals in the vault, huh?"
"Exactly."
He shook his head, grinning despite himself and as the ride started to move again, he squeezed your hand once before letting go.
The ride back was quieter, but not in a bad way. You had the window cracked, letting in the warm breeze as you stared out at the dark streets rolling by. Jisung had one hand on the wheel, the other drumming a soft, rhythmic beat on the console between you, humming along to a song neither of you really knew. You glanced over at him once or twice, catching the way his profile looked different in the car light. When he pulled up in front of your place he shifted into park, but didn't move right away. "So..." He said, glancing at you with a small smile. "Thanks for, you know, not bullying me too hard on the Ferris wheel."
You smirked, unbuckling your seatbelt. "I was very gentle."
He nodded. "Exceptionally. I give your emotional support services five stars."
"I expect a review."
"I'll write one tonight."
You both laughed, but it lingered for a second after. He looked at you again, and his voice dropped just a bit. "Thanks for coming out with me."
You smiled. "Thanks for inviting me, this was fun."
He hesitated, fingers tapping once on the steering wheel. "I... yeah. I had fun too, really."
You opened the door slowly, one foot already stepping out before you turned back toward him. "Night, Jisung."
He nodded. "Night."
You closed the door gently, waving once as you headed up the steps. Halfway to your door, you turned just slightly, just enough to catch his headlights still on, his silhouette sitting there for a few seconds longer than he needed to. Then the car eased away from the curb, the taillights fading into the quiet street and you were still smiling when you unlocked your door.
═════════════════════════
The soft pink glow from your LED lights bathed your room in that signature hue your subscribers knew so well. Your camera was propped up at the usual flattering angle, and your favorite lip gloss caught the light just enough to make your smile pop as you leaned into the frame. "Hi guys." You grinned, waving as the chat began flying the second you went live. "Oh my god, you guys are insane. Two hundred thousand? Like what?? What is actually wrong with you?"
Hearts and comments poured in, some congratulating you, others spamming emotes, and a few already throwing out chaotic video requests like "candle wax asmr" or "twerking in slow motion pls." You laughed, fingers fluttering near your mouth as you read. "You guys are unwell, but thank you... seriously. This is wild." You tucked your hair behind your ear, scooting a bit closer. "Okay! So I was thinking... two hundred k means two special videos, right? One solo, one... you guys can help me pick."
You scanned the chat as your viewers responded in real time. "Oop, I'm seeing a lot of 'solo vid please.'" You read aloud with a grin. "Don't worry, I gotchu." Then your brows furrowed, lips twitching when you spotted a sudden flood of similar messages.
"Wait, 'do one with your boyfriend'?? 'Celebration video with the mystery man'?" You echoed, leaning into the chat. "'Soft dom boyfriend arc'— I'm sorry??"
You burst out laughing, covering your face for a moment before looking back up, cheeks warm. "Guys, he's—" You paused, smirking, shaking your head slowly. "Y'all are messy." Another laugh slipped out. "I'll... see what I can do."
You heard a knock at the door just as you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup. Your pink silk robe shifted with each step as you walked to the entrance. Opening the door your smile bloomed immediately, then froze halfway. Jisung stood there with a brown paper bag cradled under one arm and a soft bouquet of pink roses in the other. "Oh my goodness..." You blinked, then reached forward and pulled him into a warm hug. "You didn't have to do all that."
"Hey." He said, smiling against your shoulder. "No problem, congratulations on 200k superstar."
You stepped back, still grinning. "Thank you, seriously." He handed you the flowers, and you brought them up to your nose, your heart unexpectedly skipping. "Yeah, my followers said— wait." You narrowed your eyes. "Did you watch the livestream?"
"Maybe." He said, glancing off to the side with a smirk, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
You squinted at him playfully. "So why'd you ask me what we were celebrating? Or what kind of scene we were filming if you already knew?"
"I just..." He shrugged with a grin. "I wanted to hear it from you. Plus..." He looked down, then back up at you. "You think I didn't have a mild panic attack every time someone called me your boyfriend in the chat?"
You let out a laugh. "A mild panic attack?"
"I was spiraling, okay?" He said with a chuckle, holding up his hands in surrender. Then under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch, he added, "I wish."
You paused, the teasing in his tone didn't fully disguise the sincerity behind it. Your smile softened. "No you don't."
"Believe what you want." He shrugged again, but his eyes lingered on you a second longer than they needed to.
You felt the air stretch a little too thin between you, so you clapped your hands together, breaking it. "Okay— pregame?"
His face lit up again. "Sounds like a plan."
You led him to the living room, the scent of roses still clinging to the air behind you. He pulled out the bottle, a pretty one with a pale pink label, setting it on the coffee table like it was a prized possession. "Celebration juice." He said proudly. You grabbed two glasses, plopped onto the couch beside him, and poured. "To 200k." You said, raising your glass.
"To 200k and the girl who made it look easy." He tapped his glass to yours.
You rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. "Okay Mr. Smooth."
"I'm practicing." He said, sipping. "Just in case the boyfriend thing ever becomes real. Gotta be ready for the camera."
You choked on your drink a little, laughing. "You're literally insane."
An hour passed in a blur of drinks, laughter, teasing, and half joking dares. The energy between you bounced from playful to flirtatious to the line of something else entirely. At some point— glass in one hand, tipsy smile on your lips, you got up and said, "Okay. Come on."
"Where are we going?" He asked, raising a brow.
"My room." You grabbed the bottle off the table, then turned back, lifting your other hand to show him a bottle of whipped cream you swiped from the kitchen on your way past. He blinked once, before grabbing his glass and following you down the hallway. You tapped the record button, settling onto your knees at the edge of the bed where the camera was angled just right— intimate, soft lighting catching the faint shimmer of your silk robe. "Hey guys." You said with a wide, bright smile, voice slightly sweetened with the buzz from a couple drinks. "I just wanted to say thank you so much for helping me hit 200k subscribers. I can't even wrap my head around it. Like... what?!" You glanced off screen and grinned. "And yeah, he's here... like you asked." Jisung stepped into frame behind you. "But tonight." You continued, reaching for the bottle and pouring another shot. "We're just gonna... party." You handed him a glass, the two of you clinking again before tossing it back. With a smirk, you looked at him. "Okay, off with it." You pointed down at his chest.
Jisung blinked once, dramatically, then laughed and shrugged. "Fair." He peeled off his shirt, revealing his chest and lean frame. You wasted no time picking up the can of whipped cream, shaking it a little too theatrically, writing "200k" in white across his torso. "Oh, come on." He chuckled, but the laugh quickly turned into a slow breath when you leaned in and licked it clean, dragging your tongue over the sweet cream while keeping your eyes on him. His face twisted into a mix of surprise, amusement. Looser now, tipsy and cocky, he plucked the whipped cream from your hand. "Hey!" You gasped. "I'm the control freak around here."
He grinned smugly. "They want me to be 'soft dom' remember?"
You laughed, trying not to break character. "Oh my god."
"Yeah, I saw that." He gave a little eyebrow raise.
You were still laughing when he tilted your chin gently, spraying a small puff of cream into your mouth. You blinked up at him, smiling as you swallowed. "So pretty." He murmured.
You let the compliment hang in the air for a second. "Yeah?" You asked softly. He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. Then without warning, he smirked and sprayed some whipped cream on the top of your chest, just beneath your collarbone, licking it off you slowly, keeping eye contact the entire time. You exhaled a breathy laugh, cheeks warm. "You're so hot." You whispered. "You're the only one I'll let do this to me."
That earned a slow grin from him. He placed the can on the mattress. "Turn around." He said, voice low. You obeyed, turning away from the camera, knees pressed to the bed as you leaned forward slightly. A loud smack echoed behind you, making you giggle through your gasp. "Sexy ass tattoo." He said, finger tracing along the ink stamped low on your back. "Done by the greatest." You said through a grin, shivering slightly when his finger dragged down your spine. He drew a line of whipped cream between your shoulder blades and leaned in to lick it slowly, heat from his breath lingering before he pulled your hair gently to the side and pressed a soft kiss to the base of your neck. You sighed, lips parting, but then you remembered the camera.
"Okay, okay." You said with a small laugh, regaining composure. "Write 200k on my ass." He gave a dramatic nod like it was an honor, grabbing the whipped cream, and carefully writing it across your skin in slow strokes. You peeked back at him, laughing as the cold cream touched your skin. "Thumbnail." You said cheekily. The two of you leaned in, posing dramatically for the camera, you flashing a peace sign, him beside you with his hands resting at your hips. You turned your head to the camera one last time, breathless and smiling. "Thanks again, guys. I love you."
You slid off the bed and turned the camera off. Once it clicked, silence fell, then both of you cracked up. Jisung stretched his arms over his head, laughing as he walked toward your bathroom."You got cream everywhere." He called. "I'll grab a towel."
"Thanks." You called back, still smiling.
He returned a moment later with a towel, kneeling behind you. Gently, he wiped along your lower back and thighs before wandering back to the bed and collapsing onto it, arms flung out. You followed, flopping down beside him. His eyes were half lidded, dazed with liquor and something else. You rolled over on top of him, settling your weight gently across his torso, your robe falling open just enough to tease. Your cheek pressed against his bare chest, your fingers drawing slow, absentminded shapes on his side. Jisung exhaled, one hand coming up to stroke your back— soft, steady movements that made your eyelids droop. You lifted your head after a moment, propping yourself up slightly without getting off him. He looked up at you with that sleepy, slightly drunk smile, both hands resting naturally on your hips now like they belonged there. You stared at each other for a moment. His eyes flickering down to your mouth, then back up.
You smirked. "You look stupid."
"What?"
Before he could protest, you reached off the bed, grabbing the whipped cream again, and squirted a little on his cheek, then his nose. "There." You said with a giggle. "Perfect."
He blinked dramatically. "Are you serious?"
You nodded, cracking up as you lifted your phone and snapped a photo. "New lock screen."
That's when he stilled suddenly. "Wait. Get off. Get off— get off me."
You blinked. "What? What's wrong?" You rolled off him fast, worried. Only for him to immediately roll on top of you with a grin and smear his entire whipped cream face against yours.
"Jisung!" You squealed, shrieking through laughter as he rubbed his cheek against yours. You kicked your legs and tried to push him off, but he only kept laughing, hands braced on either side of your head as he hovered above you.
"Revenge." He said, grinning hard.
"You're too much." You smiled.
"You started it."
You were both still laughing, breathless now, when the air shifted. His smile softened first, then yours. His face lingered close, you felt his breath on your lips, your chest rising against his. His eyes flicked to yours, searching. Your fingers found his cheek, your thumb brushing a tiny patch of whipped cream near his jaw, eyes never leaving his. "Fuck it." You whispered. And then you pulled him down and kissed him. It started soft— just the press of your mouth against his, but the second he kissed you back, it changed. He made a quiet, low sound in the back of his throat and kissed you deeper, slower, like he'd been waiting for you to make the first move. His hand slid under the edge of your robe, fingers skimming the curve of your thigh. You arched into him, one leg curling around his waist, and he groaned softly into your mouth.
"God, you're crazy." He mumbled against your lips, his breath hot and shaky.
"You're the one climbing on top of me." You teased, lips brushing his.
"You pulled me down." He shot back, grinning breathlessly.
The teasing melted fast. Laughter turned into panting. Smiles broke apart between kisses and then it wasn't just playful anymore— it was need. The kiss deepened— open mouthed now, your lips parted, tongues tasting faint traces of whipped cream and alcohol. Your fingers were in his hair before you realized it, tugging him closer, your body pressing up against his like you couldn't get enough. He kissed you harder now, with a heat that made your skin tingle, his body heavy and warm above you. His hands had found your waist again, but this time they weren't still— they slid up, palms warm and slow under the silk of your robe, thumbs brushing the soft skin just below your ribs. You shivered beneath him, gasping softly against his mouth as he pressed you further into the mattress.
"Jisung—" You gasped against his mouth, lips brushing his, your voice coming out softer than you meant. Your leg locked tighter around him, grinding up into his lap. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans. He paused just long enough to meet your eyes again. They were darker now, his expression hazy, lips parted like he was trying to keep it together. "You sure?" He asked, voice low. You nodded. He stared at you another second like he didn't quite believe his luck, then leaned in again, kissing you softer this time, like he wanted to savor it now that he had permission. Your hands slid up his bare back, fingers raking lightly over his shoulder blades. He groaned at the contact and ducked down to kiss along your neck, your collarbone, his lips warm and open. He tugged the silk robe open further, pushing it down your arms so it pooled beneath you. "God, you're..." He muttered, almost like it slipped out. He kissed between your breasts, licking off a stray trail of whipped cream he must've missed earlier. "Can't believe I'm allowed to touch you."
"You are— so do it."
And he did. His hands were everywhere— roaming down your sides, gripping your hips, then sliding up to cup your chest. His thumbs grazed over your nipples. He took one into his mouth, swirling his tongue slowly, teasing until your back arched and a soft whimper slipped from your lips. "You sound so pretty." He murmured, his breath warm and shaky. "Please keep making those noises." His hands slid lower, hooking into the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips automatically, letting him tug them down and off, tossing them somewhere you didn't care to look.
You could feel him hard against your thigh, still pressed tight between your legs. You moved your hips up against him and he cursed under his breath. He sat up for just a second, fumbling with the button of his pants like his hands weren't working fast enough. You sat up too, helping him shove his jeans down, both of you laughing breathlessly as he kicked them off the edge of the bed. "Real smooth." You teased, kissing along his jaw, his throat, biting lightly at the edge of his collarbone.
"You're distracting, okay?" He muttered, grinning against your lips. "I'm doing my best."
When he finally settled back between your legs, you reached down, guiding him with one hand, lining him up and sliding him through your folds just once, just to tease. He let out a sharp breath, hips twitching. "Don't—" His voice cracked. "Don't tease me right now, please."
Your eyes flicked up, meeting his. "Begging already?"
"Maybe." He smiled, but his hands were shaking a little as he cupped your face again, kissing you harder. "Just, fuck— I need to be inside you." You guided him, lining him up, the head of his cock sliding through your slick folds. The first push in made both of you gasp.
"Shit—" His breath stuttered, but he stopped just long enough to look at you.
Your nails dug into his back, lips parting as he stretched you, slow and deep, every inch dragging, slow enough to make you dizzy. His hips pressed flush against yours, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His breath was hot against your neck, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You just felt each other— thighs trembling, hearts racing."You okay?" He whispered.
"Yeah." You breathed, lips brushing the edge of his ear. "You?"
"Yeah. Just—" He swallowed hard, voice low. "You feel so fucking good."
He kissed you again, tongue slipping past your lips like he was trying to crawl inside you. His hips rolled once, slow and deep, making you gasp into his mouth. "Move." You whispered, nails raking gently down his back. He did. Slow at first, dragging out every thrust, his cock sliding in and out of you in long, deep strokes. You could feel everything— the stretch, the pressure, the wet friction building between your bodies. The sounds of it— sticky, wet, soft gasps filling the room along with the faint creak of the bed beneath you. "God, I've wanted this." He murmured, lips against your neck. "Thought about this so fucking much."
"Don't— don't stop talking." You whispered. "Tell me."
"Been thinking about you since the first time I saw you." He breathed, fucking into you a little harder now. "Thought about your legs. Your mouth. Your ass— fuck, your ass—" His hips snapped harder now, but he kept it steady, grinding deeper on each thrust, making sure you felt every inch. Your legs locked around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back, pulling him in tighter, closer, making him moan into your neck. His pace picked up, sloppy now. "You're so wet." He groaned.
"Touch me." You whispered, voice shaking.
His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow circles while he kept thrusting, harder now, breath stuttering every time you clenched around him, you were so close.
"Cum for me." He whispered against your lips. "Wanna feel you— wanna feel you while I'm inside." Your body tightened, a cry tearing from your throat as you clenched around him, body trembling under his. His name left your lips in a choked gasp, nails digging into his back as you came. He groaned loudly, thrusting faster, chasing his own release, forehead pressed to yours. "Fuck, I'm gonna—" His hips jerked, cock twitching deep as he came inside you. His whole body shook as he moaned into your neck, the sound low and desperate as he emptied himself, grinding against you to ride it out. You stayed like that— both of you trembling, breath shaky. Neither of you spoke, just the sound of your breathing in the room.
═════════════════════════
You woke up alone. The first thing you noticed was the dip in the mattress beside you— faint, but empty. The second was the silence, no footsteps, no running water, no voice, just the faint hum of the city outside your window. You sighed, of course he'd be gone. Of course, after he finally got to fuck that would be it. That was the whole story, you'd seen this one before. Maybe you were stupid for thinking it would end differently this time— just because it was him. And that was what hurt the most. You actually liked him, as a friend, as... whatever last night was. You liked him when he was being awkward and sweet, when he'd bring you snacks and compliment your stupid slippers. You liked him when he looked at you like you were worth something. But now it just felt like you gave yourself up too easily... again.
You shoved the thought down and swung your legs off the bed, pulling on your robe and brushing your hair back, it was fine. You'd get over it, you always did. Just as you were walking toward the kitchen, there was a knock at the door. You froze. You opened it slowly, and there he was— Jisung, standing awkwardly in your hallway, hair messy, hoodie wrinkled, holding a brown takeout bag in one hand and a white box in the other. He looked like he didn't know if you were going to punch him or let him in. You blinked once, and without saying anything, you stepped aside and let him walk in. You both sat at the small table. You stayed quiet and so did he for a second, like he wasn't sure how to start. He sat both items down on the table, but didn't let go of either, fingers gripping the box and bag like they were anchors.
"I think we should talk about last night." He said.
Your heart thudded. You didn't want this conversation, not yet, not like this. You gave a small, strained chuckle and shook your head. "Don't remind me."
He looked startled. "Was it bad?"
You looked up quickly. "No. No, it wasn't bad. It was... great. You were great." You hesitated. "But I just— I promised myself I wouldn't have sex with anyone I hadn't been dating for at least six months."
He frowned a little, listening.
"I just... with my profession, and already constantly feeling like I'm being looked at like a slut or like I'm just someone people want to jerk off to... I don't know. I just felt like I gave it up so easy."
You looked down, you weren't expecting to say all that.
He was quiet for a second, then nodded. "You're not a slut, you're not. Sometimes things just... happen and it doesn't have to mean something bad happened. It's not the end of the world."
You nodded slowly, unsure.
He paused again, biting his lip before saying: "That's actually what I needed to talk to you about."
You looked at him. "What?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, so. Just, like, how we met..."
"What about how we met?" You asked, your voice tightening.
"I just mean, like— when I first found your page, it was a joke. Not like— you're a joke! I just meant like... my friend showed me one of your videos, and we were messing around, and then I kept watching because, like, you were actually... really good."
You blinked. "You were watching me for laughs?"
"No! Not laughs. Not like that. I just meant— like, I didn't know I'd end up talking to you like this. I didn't think we'd be— friends? Or more? I don't know what we are, but..."
You leaned back, arms crossed. "Wow."
"I didn't mean for any of it to sound bad, I just... I suck at this." He rushed.
You said nothing. He slowly slid the takeout bag towards you, but you didn't touch it.
You were staring at him now, waiting for whatever else he was holding back.
He gripped the white box tighter. "And... about last night."
You raised your eyebrows, already tense.
He took a deep breath. "I mean— it was amazing. And I'm not saying it was just sex or anything, it wasn't, but also, it was, like... we were already in bed, and things happened fast, and— wait, that sounds like I didn't care, which I did—"
You held up a hand, already exasperated.
"Jisung." You said flatly. "Do you have any idea how you sound right now?"
He froze.
You stood up slowly. "I'm gonna go get Plan B."
His eyes widened. "I didn't want it to be weird." He mumbled. "I dont want you to feel like I was—"
"Using me?"
He went silent, face dropping. "That's not what it is."
I just need to handle it, okay? Alone. Thanks for the food." You walked toward the door and held it open. "You can leave now."
"Wait, can we just talk?"
"Jisung." Your tone cut.
For a second, he just stood there, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and panic. Then he stepped out quietly, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.
•••
You kicked the door shut behind you, keys clattering onto the kitchen counter, head pounding from more than just the hangover. The silence of your apartment settled heavy over your shoulders. The morning after pills rattled lightly as you popped one out and swallowed it dry. You leaned against the sink, arms braced, trying to will yourself to feel... something clearer, lighter. But all you felt was tired, foggy and gross. And kind of... starving. You frowned, hand instinctively moving to your stomach. You hadn't eaten since... god, when? Your eyes drifted toward the table where he'd left the food. You approached it cautiously, like it might bite. There was still a slight warmth coming off the bag. You crept closer, reaching in and pulling out a wrapped breakfast sandwich— the kind you only got from that one place a few blocks down, still soft, slightly squished from being carried around too long. You unwrapped it slowly, eyes catching on the second item nestled beneath it: a side of breakfast potatoes. Crispy, seasoned perfectly, your favorite. You sat at the table cross legged, biting into the sandwich, then your eyes flicked to the white box, still unopened, sitting beside the bag. You chewed slowly, hesitating before picking it up. It smelled faintly of fruit.
You popped open the lid and inside were a half dozen chocolate covered strawberries, glossy and uneven and clearly handmade, or at least picked out with care. Some were already starting to melt under the heat. But what caught your eye was the message piped along the inside of the box, the letters slightly smeared from the shifting fruit.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
You stared at it blinking, sitting back against the chair with a long sigh. You held the box in your lap, strawberries starting to stain the edge of the cardboard, and just looked at the words. Part of you wanted to laugh, part of you wanted to throw it out, part of you wanted to cry. Instead, you bit into a potato and muttered under your breath: "Of course it's the one time I actually kick someone out.
You grabbed your phone, heart thudding a little too hard in your chest. You called him once— no answer. A second time— still nothing, then a third... nothing but the flat sound of it ringing out. Your thumb hovered over the screen. You bit your lip, unsure if you should just leave it alone, but then you opened your chat.
You tossed your phone on the couch, sighing as you sank back into the cushions. For a while, there was nothing, just silence. You didn't even realize you were holding your breath until you heard the faint knock.
Your head whipped toward the door, you blinked slowly, heart racing. You opened it and there he was. Still in the hoodie from earlier, hair a little messy. No bag of food this time, no grin, just him— shoulders slightly slumped, hands in his pockets, lips pressed into a line. "...Jisung." You whispered. He blinked, tilting his head slightly, confusion flickering across his face. His brows pinched together gently, like he wanted to be mad, but didn't know how. You didn't wait for him to say anything. You stepped forward and pulled him into a hug— hard, arms wrapping around his shoulders like muscle memory, like your body already knew this was where he fit. Your face pressed into the warm spot between his collarbone and neck, and your fingers curled into the soft cotton of his hoodie.
"I'm so, so sorry." You said, voice trembling. "I was just— I don't know, I got in my head and then the way you said stuff was weird, and I freaked out and I panicked and I shouldn't have kicked you out."
He didn't say anything right away, but then you felt his arms circle around you, slowly at first, then tighter. Then his eyes landed over your shoulder, on the open white box sitting on the table. He stiffened slightly, you felt it in the way his hold loosened. He cleared his throat and stepped back. "Um, okay. Thank you for the apology, I accept it— bye!" He spun around so fast you barely caught the panic behind his voice.
"What?" You grabbed his wrist before he could take another step. "Where are you going?"
He froze, half turned toward the door, blinking at you like a deer caught in headlights before letting out a short, fake laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I have... work. Yeah.. work."
You narrowed your eyes at him, your grip on his wrist loosening. "Right... work."
He nodded too quickly, gave you a little wave, and walked out without looking back.
You just stood there for a second, staring at the door like it had just personally insulted you then you shook your head, walking back to the couch, and flopped down again with a sigh so loud it practically echoed. Fifteen minutes later, there was another knock. Dragged yourself off the couch and opened the door again. It was him... again. He stood there, hair even messier now like he paced outside or ran a hand through it too many times. His eyes didn't quite meet yours, there was a tension in his jaw, but more than that— guilt. He exhaled like he'd been holding something in. "Okay, I lied. I don't have work today."
You blinked, letting out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, I know. It's your day off."
He sucked in his teeth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Oh, right. I forgot you knew that."
You stepped to the side and opened the door wider. He looked at you for a second longer, like he wasn't sure what he'd just walked into. He stepped inside like he wasn't sure he was supposed to be there, eyes darting around your apartment until they landed again on the white box sitting open on the table. You didn't say anything at first, you just watched him, watched how he kept glancing at it, how he kept not saying anything. Finally, you walked over and picked it up, holding it in both hands and turned toward him slowly. His eyes went wide. You held it up a little higher. "You keep looking at this."
He laughed... kind of. More like a dry exhale mixed with fear. "Oh... uh, that? That was a joke. Just came like that, I picked the only option."
You raised a brow. "Really?"
He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His shoulders slumped. "I— I don't have the same confidence I had early this morning, okay?"
You fought a smile as he scratched at the back of his neck, clearly spiraling. "Look." He rushed out. "Can we just forget this all happened?"
You tilted your head. "Wait, so you don't want to be with me?"
His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "No! No— not that way, just" He paused, face going neutral. "You're kidding, aren't you?"
You laughed, nodding. You watched the breath of relief leave his body like he'd been holding it since walking in. "Maybe I'll just try again another day." He mumbled, face scrunching into an embarrassed pout. "This is really embarrassing, I'm gonna die."
You laughed again, softer this time, setting the box down and stepping closer, ruffling your hand through his hair. "You're so cute." You murmured. "I got it." You laced your fingers into his and looked up at him, your voice playful, sincere, a little warm. "Jisung, my biggest fan, my tattoo artist, my... coworker, my friend.." You smiled, "will you be my boyfriend?"
He froze, like, full body stillness. His eyes a bit wide, breath hitching, fingers trembling just slightly between yours. "This doesn't feel right." He said finally.
You blinked. "...What?"
"I feel like I should be the one asking you out."
You gave him a look. "You did."
"Still feels wrong."
You crossed your arms. "Then do it, the floor is yours."
He nodded, determined. "Okay, give me a minute to prepare." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, straightened his back, cleared his throat dramatically like he was about to step onto a stage, and when he opened his eyes again he turned away immediately, laughing under his breath with a flustered grin. He shook his shoulders out, one hand pressed against his chest as if he was calming his heartbeat and then suddenly— he spun around and pulled you into a kiss. You gasped softly, stumbling a step back before melting into it, his hands framing your jaw, your arms winding around his neck. He kissed you like he meant it, backing you into the wall, kissing you like he didn't care how obvious it was.
He broke the kiss just enough to breathe, still close, his forehead brushing yours.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
You smiled, chest full and cheeks sore. "Yes." You whispered.
His face broke into the widest grin you'd ever seen. Then he kissed you again and this time, neither of you held back.
Later that night.
You were half asleep on the couch with your feet in his lap, a throw blanket barely covering your legs and the last bits of chocolate still clinging to the edge of the now empty dessert box. Your TV was playing some chaotic late night reality show neither of you were really watching, volume low. Jisung was scrolling through his phone, one hand resting gently on your shin, his thumb tracing absentminded circles over your skin. Every few seconds, his eyes would flick over to you, like he still wasn't sure this was real. You opened your eyes slightly, catching him."What."
"Nothing." He said way too fast.
You squinted. "You're staring at me like you're about to propose."
He laughed, tossing his phone on the coffee table. "Relax, I'm just still recovering from earlier."
You sat up a bit, stretching and yawning. "You mean the part where you panicked and tried to lie about the most obvious romantic gesture of all time?"
"I blacked out, I don't remember anything." He said seriously, before breaking into a grin.
You laughed, reaching for your water. "Well, boyfriend, you're lucky you're cute."
His smile faltered a little— not in a bad way, just in that soft, stunned kind of way, like the word "boyfriend" hadn't quite hit until now.
"Say it again."
You raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"That. What you just called me."
You set the water down and leaned into him, teasing. "Boyfriend?"
He melted like putty under you, eyes falling shut, shoulders curling slightly as if the word physically affected him. "That's crazy... that's insane, I'm gonna pass out."
You laughed, slipping into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.
"You're such a loser." You whispered fondly.
"Yeah, yours though." He kissed your shoulder, then your cheek, then your jaw.
"Okay." You said, sighing dramatically. "Don't get cocky just cause you bought some strawberries and wrote a confession in chocolate."
"You ate them." He whispered, grinning, sleepy and entirely too smug now. "Best $44.99 I've ever spent."
You kissed him again, and when you pulled back, he was smiling. That kind of smile, quiet and full, just for you.
𐙚📷꒱ synopsis- You weren’t supposed to find out your new tattoo artist was also your subscriber, but now that you have, why not make it interesting? It was supposed to be business— now he’s in your bed, on your screen, and way too deep under your skin.
𐙚📷꒱ genre- smut/ porn with plot MDNI! 18+, fluff, hint of angst if you squint.
𐙚📷꒱ warnings- masturbation (for preview), bdsm themes, sexual filming. (Full list of warnings will be released in the main fic!)
𐙚📷꒱ W/c- 6.3k for preview, estimated 25-30k for full fic.
a/n- hiiii guyssssss :D! I’ve had this idea for a while, so I’m finally bringing it to life. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the main fic! Love you <3
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"Hello, do you have any openings for walk ins today?" You asked, stepping through the door of the shop.
The receptionist glanced up from her screen, tucking a pen behind her ear. "Yeah, let me check." She turned toward the hallway and called out casually. "Jisung, you down for a walk-in right now?"
There was a pause, then a voice drifted out— low and clear, with a hint of rasp. "Yeah, sure."
The receptionist smiled as she turned back to you. "He'll be right with you."
"Thank you." You gave her a small smile and sat on the black leather bench against the wall, pulling out your phone and scrolling idly.
A few minutes later, the soft creak of a door signaled his arrival. "Hey." He said simply, voice quieter now that he was closer. "What are you looking to get today?"
You looked up and paused.
Oh.
Your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was attractive. Not just attractive— hot in that quietly intense way. Sharp dark eyes, and dark hair that was slightly messy.
"I want a tramp stamp." You replied with a slight smile, rising from your seat and stepping toward the front counter. You pulled up a photo on your phone and turned it to show him. "Like this."
He leaned in slightly, nodding with approval as he squinted at the image. "Classic." He said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Do you want it exactly like the picture?"
"Yeah." You nodded.
"Alright, give me a few minutes to get everything prepped and I'll come get you."
"Okay." You smiled again, watching as he turned and disappeared down the hallway.
You waited, glancing around the shop— walls lined with flash designs, portfolios, and random Polaroids pinned. You could hear him setting up in the back, faint clinks of metal and the hiss of something being sanitized. A few minutes later, he came back out.
"Ready?"
You nodded, following him through the hallway into the back room. His station was neat— organized trays, sterile packaging, a padded table in the center with a mirror on the far wall. The lighting was soft but clear, a gentle hum from the overhead bulb.
"Alright." He said, gesturing toward the table. "Where exactly are we placing this?"
"Low." You answered, a small smirk on your lips. "Right above my ass."
He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he grabbed a pair of gloves. "Got it. Go ahead and pull your pants down just enough to expose the area— stop right above where you want it, and lie down on your stomach."
You did as he said, adjusting your waistband and settling onto the padded table, your cheek resting on your arm. You heard him snap on the gloves behind you.
"This your first tattoo?" He asked as he grabbed a bottle and some paper towels.
You nodded. "Yeah."
"Cool." He sounded calm, relaxed. "I'm just gonna talk you through everything since it's your first, alright?"
"Alright." You murmured.
He came around beside you. "I'm cleaning the area first." He said softly, spraying a cool mist against your lower back. His gloved hand moved in slow, firm circles as he wiped the skin clean, the sensation oddly soothing.
"Now I'm applying the stencil." He said, dipping into a small pot of transfer solution and rubbing it gently into your skin. You felt the slight pressure of his hand as he pressed the stencil into place, fingers lingering for a second as he smoothed it down, then peeled it up.
"Go ahead and check it out in the mirror. Let me know if the placement works."
You sat up, stepping toward the mirror, turning to the side, you looked over your shoulder. The stencil sat perfectly aligned just above your curves.
"Perfect." You said, catching his gaze in the mirror for a moment before sitting back down.
"Great. Gotta let it dry for a few minutes, and then we'll get started." He said, giving you a small nod.
You laid back down, scrolling on your phone to distract yourself, though your heart was already starting to race in anticipation. A few minutes later, you heard the familiar buzz of the machine starting up as he returned, adjusting his stool beside you.
"You ready?" He asked, eyes flicking to yours.
You nodded, bracing yourself.
The first prick of the needle made your breath hitch, but you stayed still, jaw tight, brows furrowed in focus.
"You okay?" He murmured after a few seconds.
"Yeah, all good." You replied, your voice calm but breathy.
He continued slowly, steadily. The pain fluctuated— dull in some areas, sharp in others. At one point, he hit a particularly tender spot and body tensed slightly.
"Ou..." You let out, low and quiet, the sound almost a soft moan as your teeth pressed into your bottom lip. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to breathe through it.
He paused for a second. Then without a word, his gloved fingers lightly rubbed the spot beside the sting gently.
"Yeah, I know." He murmured, his voice even lower now. His eyes flicked up to the mirror, locking with yours for a second too long. There was something there— something unreadable, like curiosity or heat or restraint. "Just breathe."
You nodded, letting out a slow exhale.
He continued, working in silence as you melted into the chair, pain giving way to the hum of the machine and the strangely intimate focus of his presence beside you.
Eventually, the buzzing stopped.
"All done." He sat back, pulling off his gloves. "Wanna take a look?"
You stood up slowly, your lower back still tingling, and turned toward the mirror, your mouth parting slightly.
"Oh my gosh." You said, eyes widening.
His face shifted slightly— brows drawing in for a second as he watched your reaction through the mirror. "Everything okay?"
"It's perfect." You said, turning to him with a smile. "So sexy."
He let out a quiet laugh under his breath. "I'll get you up front whenever you're ready."
You headed back to the counter, pulling your shirt down as he met you with a small stack of papers.
"Here's your aftercare— super important. Wash it gently, no soaking, moisturize with something unscented, and don't pick at it, no matter how much it itches."
You nodded, skimming the paper. "Got it."
"Alright, $350." He said, tapping the screen of the checkout tablet and spinning it toward you. "Card or cash?"
"Card." You pulled out your wallet.
As you glanced at the screen, you hesitated. "Is there a way to leave a tip on the card?"
"There was." He said, frowning. "It stopped working this morning though. If you've got cash I can take that, but if not, don't even worry."
"Damn." You said, pouting slightly. "You did such a good job. You were so gentle and it looks fucking awesome— I feel bad not tipping you."
He gave a small smile and shook his head. "Seriously, it's fine."
"Do you have, like... a Venmo or something I could send it to?"
He paused, considering. "No, it's cool... really." But then he tilted his head slightly. "Wait— this is your first tattoo, right?"
You nodded, swiping your card.
"Have I... serviced you before? With anything else?" He asked, eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity.
Your brows furrowed, caught off guard by the phrasing. "No, I don't think so." You replied with a laugh. "Why?"
"I don't know, you just seem super familiar."
You smiled, shrugging. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
He paused for a second, then pulled out his phone. "Well, since you're new or whatever, I can give you my Instagram. Just in case you have questions or if anything feels off."
"Yeah, that'd actually be great." You said, unlocking your phone and handing it to him.
He tapped in his info and handed it back.
"Alright." He said, backing up behind the counter with a small grin. "You're good to go, hope the rest of your day's good."
"You too." You said, your voice light as you turned to leave, stomach still fluttering from the whole encounter.
You could feel his eyes on your back as the door closed behind you.
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It had been a long day.
Jisung pushed open his front door and exhaled the second it shut behind him, leaning his weight against it for a moment like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His shoulders ached, his fingers were still stained faintly with ink, and his brain felt foggy from hours of back to back clients and constant buzzing.
All he wanted was a little peace— something that would pull him out of the numbing routine.
He took a long shower, hot water pouring over him until his skin flushed, then towel dried his hair half heartedly and collapsed into bed. His sheets were still cool, the overhead light buzzed faintly in the corner of the room as he reached for his laptop.
He opened it without even thinking.
The muscle memory kicked in— typing the URL, logging in, clicking through to his subscriptions. Just one name there— the only one that mattered.
ControlFreak.
He swallowed as her profile popped up, thumbnail teasing the corner of a new upload. The second he saw the preview image— black lace, soft lighting, the gentle curve of her waist, he felt that familiar heat rise in his gut.
She was dangerous... way too good at what she did.
He was obsessed.
He didn't talk about it with anyone, obviously. No one knew about this part of him, but there were nights like this, when the exhaustion and silence hit just right and all he wanted was to watch her— listen to her voice, her teasing tone, the way she played with the camera like she could see right through it.
He clicked on the video, and her voice greeted him instantly.
"Hi guys!"
His stomach flipped.
There was something about the way she spoke— sweet and playful, but just a little commanding, like she knew you were already under her spell.
She was wearing a delicate black lace set that clung to her like it was made for her. Her body looked perfect— curved in all the right places, skin smooth and glowing under the soft light. He couldn't see her full face, just glimpses of some of her features, just enough to keep him hooked, but God, she was beautiful, he could tell.
"I hope you're all doing okay. You are now, at least, because I'm here... right?" She said, lips curled into a teasing smile.
Jisung chuckled quietly, already feeling the tightness growing in his sweats. He settled deeper into his bed, one hand absentmindedly running over his thigh.
"I bet you're already hard, aren't you?" She murmured, her voice dipping lower, more intimate. Her hand trailed up her inner thigh in slowly.
He let out a low breath, amused— and yeah, a little called out, but that was the point. She had a way of making it feel personal, like she was speaking just to him.
"First off." She said, sitting up a little straighter. "I have something to show you guys. I'm so excited, look."
He leaned in instinctively, licking his lips as he watched her shift on screen, turning slowly to reveal her back.
And then he froze.
She was showing off a tattoo, right above the curve of her ass. It was small, playful, flirtatious, sexy in the most obvious way, but more than that— familiar... too familiar.
The exact same design he'd inked on someone just two weeks ago. Same placement, same angle, same font even.
He blinked, sitting up straighter, the arousal in his gut suddenly tangled with a swirl of disbelief... fucking way.
He paused the video, staring at the screen like it would explain itself.
Could it really be...?
The girl from the shop. The one who'd walked in smiling and sweet, asking for a tramp stamp. The one who giggled when she said "right above my ass." The one who tensed under his hands when the needle hit a sensitive spot, letting out those breathy little sounds that made his stomach twist. The one whose voice had stuck with him longer than he cared to admit.
He ran a hand down his face, shit.
He stared at the frozen frame of the video, the tattoo clear as day, his own work staring back at him through the screen. His heart thudded a little harder.
He thought back to that day— your voice, the way your body moved on the table, the glance you shared in the mirror. You'd been flirty, confident, kind of unforgettable, if he was honest with himself.
And now, somehow this.
He let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. He probably should've been mortified, most people would've been. But instead, his hand moved back down, and he unhooked the waistband of his sweats.
He hit play.
Now that he could match your voice to your body, your expressions, your rhythm, your teasing, it did something to him he didn't even want to try to understand. It was like watching a memory from a different angle, something deeply personal he wasn't supposed to have.
But he wanted it.
"You like it, don't you? Can't stop looking?" Your voice teased from the video, light and cruel, soft laughter threading through each syllable.
He did, he couldn't stop looking. He thought the same damn thing back at the tattoo shop, the first time he caught a glimpse of you and couldn't tear his eyes away. His breath was shallow as he started to palm himself, movements tentative at first, drinking in every inch of you on the screen. The way you moved, the way you teased the camera like you knew exactly what he needed.
"Look at you, so pathetic, getting this turned on over a tattoo? I bet you are, aren't you?"
His hand sped up slightly, a quiet moan slipping past his lips. "Fuck." He breathed, almost too quiet for even himself to hear as the shame twisted deeper. His knuckles brushed the wet patch already starting to stain his waistband, and he swallowed hard, refusing to look away from the screen.
Then you turned forward again, your fingers sliding along the waistband of your underwear, teasing, legs spread just enough to make him go crazy.
"You want me, right? Tell me you want me. Tell me you want to see me."
"I want you." He whispered, rough and low, voice cracking with need. His head tipped back against the wall behind him, eyes still glued to the screen.
You giggled, sweet and sharp all at once, and his stomach clenched.
"Beg, not like you haven't done it before. Beg me to take them off."
A wrecked sound left him, his hand working faster, desperate now. "Please." He gasped, voice ragged. "fuck, please, oh my god."
"Harder, more." You commanded.
He obeyed instantly, his fist moving faster, rougher, moans tumbling out of him with no shame left at all. It was so dirty, so humiliating, but he didn't care— he couldn't. You owned every broken sound that came out of his throat.
"Shit." He gasped, pulse pounding. "I'm about to— fuck, please, please—"
Your voice stayed soft and mocking as he tumbled closer and closer.
"Look at you, so pathetic. You think you deserve this, huh? You really think you do? Well you don't, you don't deserve anything I'm giving you."
His eyes squeezed shut, a choked moan tearing from his throat, his whole body jerking as cum spilled out across his stomach, ropes marking his skin in humiliating streaks. His voice broke on a sobbing gasp, the pleasure cutting too deep to even process. He rode out the orgasm, nearly shaking, until he was empty.
"Maybe next time you'll get lucky." You laughed. "And can actually see me."
The screen went black.
He sat there, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin, trying to process everything that had just happened. The sticky mess clung to him, a filthy reminder of how completely he gave himself away to a screen— to you. He let out another shaky, stunned laugh, dropping his head back against the wall.
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You've been loving your tattoo. Like, seriously obsessed. Every time you passed a mirror you found yourself twisting, lifting your shirt, checking it out from the side. It looked so good, it made you feel more like yourself, somehow.
So when the buzz of excitement hadn't faded two weeks later, you figured... why not get another?
Same shop, of course. Same artist, he'd been good— gentle, professional, and kind of hot in that quiet, messy haired, tired eyes way. You liked his vibe, it made sense to go back.
When you walked into the tattoo parlor, the bell above the door chimed softly. You immediately spotted him behind the counter, ringing up another customer. His head was bent slightly, focused on whatever he was handing over. Then his eyes flicked up, the second they landed on you his whole face changed.
His expression dropped, like he seen a ghost— or maybe something way worse. His shoulders stiffened, mouth opening slightly, then closing just as fast. He quickly turned back to the customer in front of him.
"Um, okay... here's your aftercare set." He said, voice a little tight.
He glanced toward you again and dropped the product right out of his hands.
"Shit, sorry." He muttered, crouching down to retrieve it. He stood and handed it off, forcing a smile. "Have a nice one."
Weird.
You stepped forward, a smile on your face, waiting for him to acknowledge you, but he didn't say anything— just looked at you, then quickly away.
"One moment, please." He said, voice low. Then he turned and walked straight to the back.
You blinked, brows lifting slightly. Okay... that was new.
A few minutes passed before he returned. When he did you noticed his eyes looked red— like he rubbed them hard or had a moment to himself he wasn't planning to share. Still, he came to the counter, clearing his throat, trying to keep his voice even.
"How can I help you?"
You smiled. "Oh my god, it's you."
"It's me." He said with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Do you have time for a walk in today?" You asked.
He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek, glancing up at you. "Depends on what you're getting."
"Nothing crazy. Just, like... two small hearts." You said, tapping the area above your chest. "Right here."
His gaze dropped briefly, to where you were pointing— right above your upper boob. You saw his jaw twitch slightly before he looked back up.
"I could do that now." He said, voice softer.
"Awesome."
"I'll just need a second to get everything ready." He said, disappearing again to the back.
When he returned, he gestured for you to follow him. The back room looked just like last time— sterile trays, the padded chair, low lighting, but somehow it felt... different.
"Alright." He said, snapping on a pair of gloves. "I'm gonna need you to take your shirt off."
You didn't hesitate, fingers hooked beneath the hem of your shirt and you tugged it over your head, tossing it aside.
You felt his eyes on you— his focus, thick and lingering. When you glanced at him, you caught him staring... hard. He blinked and turned quickly, grabbing the disinfectant spray, hands a little shaky.
He was unraveling. And you didn't know why, but it made your skin prickle.
He cleared his throat again. "Alright, just gonna clean the area first."
You laid back, letting him work. His hands were gentle again, careful, but his energy was completely different— tense and strained. He was trying so hard not to look directly at you. Every time your skin twitched, every time you flinched or exhaled too deep, you could feel the way his breath hitched.
Then he hit a sensitive spot. A soft, involuntary sound left your throat, half sigh, half whimper. His hand froze for half a second. His breath stuttered, he exhaled grounding himself.
"Breathe." He murmured. It wasn't just for you, you could hear it in his voice. "I'm almost done."
You nodded silently, resting your arm beneath your head, watching the soft flicker of the overhead bulb until he finally leaned back, wiping your skin clean one last time.
"What do you think?"
You sat up, eyes scanning the mirror. The tiny hearts were placed just where you imagined.
"Perfect." You said, smiling at your reflection. "Just like last time."
He gave a small, quiet smile. "Great, I'll walk you up front."
You followed him out, the air in the front room feeling weirdly heavier now.
"That'll be $95. Card or cash?"
"Card." You said, pulling out your wallet. "Are tips working this time?"
"They are." He gave a soft laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
"Oh, and... I overheard you selling that aftercare kit earlier. Can I get one too?"
"You can... but honestly? You probably don't need it. Looks like your first one healed up perfectly."
You smiled at the compliment, then blinked. "Wait... how'd you know that?"
There was a moment of silence.
He froze.
His eyes darted to yours, wide and caught. "Uh—I... you're wearing low rise jeans." He said quickly. "I could see it."
Your brows lifted, skepticism flickering across your face. You nodded slowly, swiping your card. "Right..."
You grabbed your receipt and gave him a final glance. "Well, have a great one."
"You too." He said, still standing stiffly behind the counter, watching you leave like he couldn't figure out if he should feel guilty or grateful.
Later that night, you were scrolling through Instagram, half watching something in the background when a notification popped up: New request in Private Chat Room – $300.
You frowned, clicking it open. You only had to respond once to get the money. Then you could block, ignore, whatever. Easy.
Username: jjsungp12
Weirdly familiar.
jjsungp12: i have a question.
You squinted slightly, already bracing yourself for whatever dumb shit was coming.
ControlFreak: Hello to you too lol. What is it?
God, you hated when people messaged like they were entitled to you. Like they knew you, like you owed them softness.
jjsungp12: sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.
You raised a brow.
ControlFreak: It's ok. What's your question?
jjsungp12: would you ever fuck a fan?
Your eyes narrowed... here we go.
ControlFreak: Why, you feeling lucky?
jjsungp12: no, just curious lol. you're only ever by yourself.
That was... odd. Specific. Most guys didn't comment on that.
ControlFreak: Well... I think I would. For fun, maybe.
jjsungp12: okay. thank you for taking the time to answer.
ControlFreak: That's it?
jjsungp12: yep, thank you.
ControlFreak: You're welcome.
The conversation was over and yet, you just sat there staring at the screen.
It was weird. Not the message itself— it was suggestive, sure, but calm. Not demanding, not sleazy, just... odd. Like whoever it was had wanted the clarity more than the fantasy.
You stared at the username again: jjsungp12
Something about it scratched at your brain. You went through your social media, checking your recent followers, nothing stood out.
Then you opened your recent search history.
jisungpark12
Your eyes widened. You chuckled, rolling your eyes in disbelief... no way.
You'd been tattooed by a pervert, twice.
Suddenly everything clicked— the weird energy, the way he stared too long, the tension in his voice, the way he clearly recognized you but didn't want to say why. The way he fumbled through conversation like he was holding a secret in his mouth.
You thought he was just another hot guy with zero self control around a girl with her shirt off, but maybe it wasn't just that.
You bit your lip, considering.
He was hot.
And now that you knew he was into you...really into you, you were suddenly thinking about what to do with that power. Because he wasn't just another fan behind a screen, he'd touched you, tattooed you, fantasized about you.
And maybe now it was your turn to make him squirm.
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The next day, you waited until late evening, just forty five minutes before closing when you finally sent the message.
Hey, this is Y/n L/n, the one who got my tattoo done yesterday. I don't know, something doesn't look right... if you're free could I stop by so you could just take a look at it?
You stared at your phone, watching the typing bubble appear... disappear... then nothing. Silence stretched until nearly closing time. Finally, the screen lit up again.
We're actually about to close soon, but if you're close by I don't mind just taking a peek.
You smiled to yourself.
Perfect.
You didn't waste time, you slipped on a long, oversized shirt— one that could be easily shrugged off, and a pair of pants that framed your body just right. You fixed your hair loosely, applied just enough gloss to your lips to catch the light, and grabbed your keys.
The tattoo parlor was only ten minutes away. When you pulled up, the lights inside were still on, and you saw him through the glass, already at the counter waiting.
When you walked in, the bell above the door gave a soft jingle. He looked up immediately, eyes locking on you.
"Hey." He said, voice cautious but warm. "What's going on?"
You glanced over your shoulder toward the door, then turned back to him. "Do you mind if we go somewhere more private?"
His eyes searched your face for a second, something flickering in them before he nodded. "Sure, come on."
He led you to the back again, into the same quiet space you remembered. "Is there anyone else here?" You asked casually, eyes scanning the room.
He shook his head, settling behind one of the stations. "Nope, just me tonight."
You stepped in a little closer, voice softer now. "So... something just doesn't feel right. It's really red and irritated. I thought that would've gone down by now."
He stood up quickly. "Mind if I touch?"
"Go ahead." You said smoothly, dragging the words slightly, watching him closely.
He grabbed a pair of gloves and slipped them on, stepping up to you. You slowly lifted the hem of your shirt, watching his eyes drop.
He placed a gloved finger gently on your skin, brushing it over the tattoo.
"You feel it?" You asked quietly, voice lower now.
His eyes flicked up to meet yours for the briefest second before darting back to the ink on your skin.
"This is actually pretty normal for this area." He said, his voice a little too fast. "More tissue here, so it gets inflamed easily. Just give it a few days— keep it clean, moisturized, no heavy friction. If it still looks irritated by then, let me know."
You smiled, tugging your shirt back down slowly. "Okay, thanks."
He stepped back, already walking toward the front. "Cool, I'll walk you out."
You followed behind him, your mind racing.
You were so close to calling him out, but the words hadn't lined up yet. It felt too sudden. Then just as your hand touched the doorknob the idea came. It was risky, very embarrassing if you were wrong, but the only way.
You paused, turning around. His head snapped up as you faced him again, your expression unreadable. He blinked fast, his whole body tense.
"I have a question." You said, walking slowly back toward the counter.
He nodded, guarded. "What's up?"
You tilted your head slightly, studying his face. "Would you ever..." You dragged it out. "Fuck a customer?"
There was a long silence, his brows furrowed, lips parted.
"That's... a little out of line, ma'am." He said, voice quieter now, unsure.
You smiled. "Is it? I wasn't sure because you asked me the same thing last night... jjsungp12."
His expression cracked. Mouth opened, nothing coming out.
"I— what?" He stammered. "I didn't. I don't even... I don't know you. I didn't message anyone."
You raised your brows. "Oh, so you think I'm dumb?"
"No! No, I— I don't think you're dumb." He rushed, panic creeping into his voice. "I just..."
"You're just what?" You interrupted, voice dipping with fake sympathy. "Just curious? Just a fan? Just a little too obsessed with a cam girl you accidentally tattooed twice?"
He froze. His body went still, hands twitching slightly at his sides, eyes wide and guilty and full of fear.
You let out a soft laugh, not cold, but amused.
"I know it was you." You said, walking toward the door again, but instead of opening it you locked it, the click ringing loud in the quiet room.
"Look." He said quickly, voice strained. "I'm sorry if I creeped you out. I didn't mean to. I just— shit, I didn't know what to say. I didn't think you'd figure it out. Please... please don't be mad."
You turned to face him again, slowly. There was a gleam in your eyes now.
"Oh." You said with a fake pout. "You're scared?"
He nodded, lips trembling. His voice came out like a whisper. "A little."
You stepped closer, eyes scanning his body and there it was clear as day. The firm, obvious print in his jeans.
You scoffed. "You're seriously hard right now?"
He didn't answer.
You tilted your head. "I'm confronting you about being a creep, and you're standing there with a boner like some pathetic little loser?"
He swallowed hard, eyes locked on you like he couldn't look away, even if he wanted to.
You laughed quietly to yourself and took a breath, letting the tension stretch.
"I should report you." You said, voice low, eyes unwavering as you studied him.
"I know." He whispered.
"But I won't." You added, watching the way his chest began to rise and fall faster with every second.
His eyes darted up to meet yours. "Why?" He asked almost too quickly, like he couldn't believe his luck and didn't trust it.
You tilted your head, letting your eyes drag over him one more time. His hands were still trembling slightly at his sides, his ears were flushed a deep pink, his breathing uneven, his entire body locked in place like prey trying not to spook the predator.
And then the obvious bulge pressing against the front of his jeans twitching slightly, helplessly. Shame swam in his eyes, but behind it... curiosity, humiliation, hunger.
You bit your lip thoughtfully. "Or maybe I will."
You watched the blood drain from his face. You weren't serious— but God, you liked the way he looked when he thought you were. The way fear and arousal spread across his expression, like he didn't know whether to run or drop to his knees.
"I— please, I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I didn't mean to be a creep. I'll do anything."
Your eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. "Anything?"
He nodded, too fast. "Yeah, anything."
You let the silence stretch for a moment, tension coiling thick in the air between you. You stepped closer, slowly, until you were close enough to see every twitch in his jaw, every shaky breath.
"Come." You said, turning your back and walking toward the rear of the studio again.
He hesitated only a second before following, his footsteps trailing behind yours like he was caught in your gravity. You stopped once you were far enough in the back, the lights a little dimmer.
"Get on your knees." You said, calm and clear.
He blinked, like he was trying to process if he heard you right, but then he obeyed. Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of you, the floor creaking softly beneath him, eyes never leaving yours.
You smiled. He was obedient, nervous, eager, you liked that.
You hummed to yourself, tapping your cheek with your finger. "Now pull down my pants."
He reached out carefully, hands warm and slightly shaky as he placed them on your hips and slid your pants down, dragging them gently over your thighs, your knees, to your ankles. He kept his head bowed, like he didn't know where to look. You could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, the way he breathed shallowly, afraid to make one wrong move.
"Go lower." You instructed, voice smooth.
He shuffled backward, settling at your ankles, eyes wide and waiting.
"Now." You said with a crooked smile. "Lick, all the way up to my thigh."
His eyes flicked up to yours, checking, hesitant, but you nodded once, so he did it. Slowly, he leaned in and let his tongue drag a line up your leg,. When he reached your upper thigh, he paused, planting a soft kiss there.
You grabbed his chin firmly and yanked his face up, forcing him to look at you.
"Did I ask you to kiss me?" You asked, your voice quiet but sharp.
His eyes went wide in panic. "N- No, I'm sorry— I didn't mean to. What can I do? I'm sorry."
"Apologize again." You said, studying his face.
"I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disobey."
You smiled condescendingly and pleased. "Good, now pull my pants back up."
He nodded, still on his knees as he gently slid the fabric up your legs again, like he was dressing something precious.
"Now stand up, loser." You said.
He scrambled to his feet, standing awkwardly in front of you, flushed and breathless, his hair slightly messy, his jeans visibly tight with arousal.
You stared at him for a long moment. Then smiled, soft and mocking. "I guess I won't report you."
Relief broke across his face like sunlight. "You won't?"
You shook your head. "Nope, but you owe me."
"I do." He nodded quickly. "I owe you. Anything."
You raised a brow. "Careful." You warned, stepping past him slowly. "You don't even know what I'm gonna ask."
He ran a hand through his hair, nervous, still flustered. "Still, I mean it."
You glanced at him once more. The shame on his face, the restraint, the fact that he hadn't pushed, hadn't crossed the line even when he clearly wanted to. You liked that. You trusted it, maybe just enough.
You clicked your tongue and walked toward the front again. At the door, you looked over your shoulder. "You're lucky you're cute." You said, smirking.
Then you slipped out, leaving him standing there— stunned, hard, and absolutely wrecked.
You'd been thinking about it for a while now. Every time you went live, every time you rewatched clips to edit, every time your inbox flooded with fantasies, suggestions, and "you should do this..." messages— your mind always drifted back to the idea.
What if it wasn't just you?
You liked your solo content. You liked the control, the freedom, the mystery. You had your rhythm, your image, your comfort zone and it worked, but the curiosity had started to grow.
Especially after what happened in the studio. You didn't even realize how often he crept into your thoughts— those soft brown eyes flicking up toward you, the flush of his neck, the panic and arousal battling in his expression. You hadn't even touched him, barely let him touch you, but the power you had over him had stayed with you like a drug.
And now you were wondering... would your fans want to see that?
Would they even be into something more real— something suggestive but still in your control? No actual sex, no crossing that line... just a taste, a tease. Something hot, but boundaried.
So that night, you set up your camera and went live— nothing heavy, just you bathed in the glow of your ring light, lounging in a loose off the shoulder shirt and barely there shorts.
"Hey, babies." You said, smiling as the chat immediately lit up.
You tilted your head. "So I've been thinking about something. I wanna run it by you guys..."
Curious emojis flooded the chat.
You bit your lip, dragging out the suspense. "So. Honest opinion— no pressure. Would you wanna see me do content with... a guy?"
The chat blew up instantly.
YE S YES YES
only if YOU want to
depends on the guy 😏
would it be real sex or just like... teasing??
who is he???
pls collab I'm dying
You grinned. "Calm down." You teased. "I'm not saying anything's for sure yet, but if I did... it wouldn't be full on sex. Just... content. Still my style, still me."
You leaned a little closer to the camera, voice softening. "But with someone I trust, someone who knows how to listen."
He flashed in your mind again— those wide, guilty eyes, the way his voice cracked when he said please, the way his hands trembled when they grazed your skin.
The chat continued to spiral.
that sounds hot
I like the idea of you being in control still
honestly yeah even just kissing would be good
bring him on screen already 😭
just no dick, pls
You laughed softly. "Don't worry, I'll keep it tasteful, you know me."
You watched the flood of excitement fill the screen, and you felt it— that same control again. Not just over your audience, but over the direction of your content.
You had an answer now and you already knew who he was going to be.
You pulled out your phone, thumb hovering for a moment before you opened Instagram and tapped on his profile.
You: Hey, you free tomorrow?
He read it instantly. The typing... bubble appeared and then disappeared. You waited, watching the screen.
jisungpark12: no, not working tomorrow. another artist will be in.
You paused, tapping your fingers against the screen, then typed again:
You: No, I mean to go out. Get coffee or something. I need to talk to you.
He saw it immediately.
Typing... stopped. Started again, then stopped.
Read.
Five minutes passed, then ten... thirty.
Finally, a reply:
jisungpark12: yes. i'm free. let's meet up.
You smiled faintly, then dropped a location pin to a quiet little café you liked.
