Slipped Out (pg 13 version)
Genre: Fluff 🫧
Tags: SFW, idol!Jeongin x idol!femreader, car kisses, possessive/jealous Ayen
Word count: 2.1 k
A/n: Hello my loves 🩷, this is kinda crazy for me because it’s my first full fic being posted and therefore I’m sorry if it’s not amazing lolz. It was originally meant to be a bit more 18+ and I WILL STILL MAKE THAT VERSION!!! But I honestly just wanted to get something out for the birthday boys big day and made this cuter version! Enough yapping, I hope you all enjoy! ☺️
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
5 hours.
5 hours it took for you and your girls to get ready for this award show and by god did it pay off.
Dressed in a short, dusty pink, A-line mini dress. The sleeveless dress has a high halter neck with a scarf-like collar and is made of a lightweight and drapey fabric (looking like chiffon or silk) that creates soft pleats that fall loosely from the neckline. The hem is trimmed all the way around with a fluffy feather fringe and is accessorized with a sparkly clutch and rosy strap heels, which complement the dress.
Your fellow members all dressed in a similar manner with colors ranging from darker pinks to blacks.
You’re the leader of a girl group called PANDORA, consisting of 6 members — including yourself. Well known for more avant garde and mature concepts, you were one of the leading 4th gen girl groups and currently in the lineups for winning major awards.
But what wasn’t known was your lives behind the spotlight. That life which included your boyfriend, Yang Jeongin. A fellow idol from the suscessful boy group, Stray Kids.
Your relationship wasn’t public, not even to your group, but there was always notice from your respective members when your groups had to interact for any reason (which sadly was very little).
You knew that their group would be here too, but what wasn’t expected was how close the two of your groups were going to be…
Approximately 6 feet away, to be exact.
But lord knows you weren’t complaining, the opposite in fact! Because just 6 feet away was possibly the hottest look you’ve ever seen on your lover.
His naturally dark hair was dyed a light brown, his wavy bangs covering his forehead as he messes around with his hyungs. And as your eyes wander down you take notice to his clothing.
A gold adorned leather jacket covers what looks like a black tank top under. His black pants are held up by a matching gold, hooped belt and a gold chain necklace.
“Waah! Unnie, look!” Your youngest quietly fangirls over multiple different artists from your left as you all get seated down by venue staff.
“…Mhm? Oh, yeah, Yeni.” You turn your attention back to your members as you let out a shudder, suddenly much too aware of how high your outfit falls on your thighs and wow was this back always so open? Hah…
“Just focus on the performances,” you mentally repeat to yourself.
“Just focus and don’t look over to your right-“ you chant to yourself as you proceed to break your main mantra and glance to your right only to be met with a staring and blushed Jeongin. His eyes fixed as he practically goggles you.
Looking like he has to force himself to bring his gaze back to your face, he makes a visible gulp as blush paints his cheeks and ears.
“Fuck,” you think as you instinctively squeeze your thighs together at his attention.
You look down at yourself before gesturing to the dress and making a thumbs up motion to him, essentially asking if he likes it.
You’re met with aggressive nods as he goes back to looking at your body which makes you let out a giggle.
“You look good,” you mouth to him once he looks back up. Somehow the blush manages to spread as a dimple-full closed mouth smile breaks out on his face. Cute.
The MCs came out to make a few announcements, chatting easily about the night’s lineup before excusing themselves and welcoming the first performers.
The lights dimmed, and a new stage began to set. Giant screens flashed teasers, the visuals alone enough to send a buzz rippling through the crowd.
“Unnie, it’s them, it’s them,” Yeni grabbed your wrist, bouncing in her seat hard enough to shake the table. Her voice was a not-so-quiet whisper. “I’m going to lose my mind!”
You laughed under your breath. “You say that about every stage.”
The opening notes of Sugar Rush Ride rang out, and the venue erupted. Even you straightened in your chair. You knew the song. Everyone did.
The first beat hit, and the group stepped onto the platform.
Your members immediately leaned forward. Staff at the nearby tables tried—and failed—to keep their composure just as badly as the fans in the stands.
And before you could stop yourself, before leader composure or idol professionalism could catch up to your brain, you were yelling along with the crowd.
“WHOO! TAEHYUN-AH!”
The cheer tore out of you, loud and bright, completely instinctive. You clapped a hand over your mouth a second too late as your members burst into shocked laughter beside you.
“Unnie!” “You just exposed yourself!” “You’re worse than Yeni!”
You dropped back into your seat, face burning as you covered your cheeks with both hands. “I didn’t mean to do that!”
But the damage was already done.
Because six feet away, the reaction you really should’ve been worried about was happening.
Jeongin had frozen mid-clap.
One hand hovered in the air as his head slowly turned toward you. Not a quick glance. Not casual. Slow enough that you felt it before you even looked.
When your eyes met, his brows were drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line.
He blinked once.
Then again.
His jaw ticked as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. The corner of his mouth tugged downward—not a pout yet, but dangerously close.
Hyunjin followed his gaze, spotted you, and let out a quiet chuckle as he nudged Jeongin’s shoulder.
Jeongin didn’t look away.
You gave him a small, awkward smile and mouthed, “It slipped.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Even from this distance, you could see it—the way his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. His dimple was nowhere to be found. Just that stubborn expression he always wore when he was jealous and pretending not to be.
Your members didn’t notice.
You tried to recover, clapping politely for the rest of the performance, but every few seconds your eyes drifted back.
At one point, he leaned toward Chan to say something, eyes still locked on you as he spoke. Chan followed his gaze, understanding dawning almost instantly, before he laughed straight into his hand.
Jeongin didn’t laugh.
Instead, he gave you a small nod. Not angry. Not playful.
A warning.
You swallowed and faced forward again, suddenly very aware that the show still had a few hours left to go.
~~~
“Meet me in the parking lot.”
That was all you received from him once the showing was over.
Oh yeah. You were in for it for sure.
—— time skip ——
You managed to slip away from your managers and fellow members as they call off sweet words to make you stay only for you to really enforce how you “need to get back home” and you “didn’t feel up for partying, but maybe next week!”
Making your way to the elevators, you ride down to the parking garage. The *ding* of the doors opening awake you from your inner thoughts, “what’s he gonna say?”, “is he actually mad?”, “surely he knows that it was all in good fun.”
Stepping out you’re met with the cold air of the garage — the thin fabric of the dress not helping against the chill.
Slowly glancing around for your boyfriend’s car, you find him leaning against the hood on his phone. Making your way over you call out sweetly, “Jeongin-ah!”
Your heels make soft clicks as you jog up to him. Looking up from his phone he connects with your eyes as you stop in front of him.
His originally stern gaze flickers as it cascades over your body before meeting your eyes once more, his pupils dilating. The sternness comes back after a moment of hesitation.
“Get in.” He commands, voice stern.
You both settle into the vehicle. Buckling in, he reaches over to help you.
“You looked really nice tonight,” he speaks quietly, his voice barely a whisper as he keeps his gaze down to your seatbelt.
His hands move quickly in a practiced fashion before returning to the steering wheel to take you — where you assume is — home.
The car ride is quiet, minimal traffic as he winds through roads towards his and his elders, Bang Chan’s, apartment.
At some point his right hand finds itself on your thigh, keeping the same tight grip as the one on the steering wheel. Drawing small figure-8’s into the inner plush of your thigh.
“What were you talking to Chan-Ssi about earlier? He gave me a look.” You ask, breaking the silence.
“I told him I would be leaving early.” He speaks plainly, voice still sounding withheld.
“Ah,” you nod. Quietness filling the car once more.
“…Ayen-ah, you know that I was just having fun right? I didn’t mean anything by that earlier…”
His knuckles whiten against the steering wheel as he lets out a tense sigh. “How do you know him?” He questions, keeping his eyes on the road as the figure-8’s come to a stop.
“He’s just a dongsaeng of mine, I was just happy to see him and his group able to perform.”
He scoffs at that answer before pouting. “He’s wasn’t that good..”
You let out a chuckle. “Aww, is my wittle Ayenie jealous?” You tease, bringing up a hand to squish his cheeks.
Suddenly he pulls to the side of the relatively empty road. Swerving into an aggressive stop before swiftly turning towards you and taking the hand that was on his face between his own with a tight grip.
“Noona, let me make one thing clear.” His heated eyes stare holes through you.
“You. Are. Mine.” Voice low and gravely. “And if I ever hear you yell out another man’s name like that, trust me that I won’t hesitate to show anyone who you actually belong to.”
The words knock the breath out of you.
For a second all you can do is stare at him, heart pounding far louder than the engine idling beneath you.
“Ayen—”
Your sentence never finishes.
His grip shifts from your hand to your jaw, warm fingers bracketing your face as he pulls you toward him. The kiss is sudden, clumsy at first, like he moved before thinking it through. Then it deepens, firm and insisting, the frustration he’s been holding back finally spilling over.
You gasp softly against him, your hands instinctively grabbing the front of his jacket to steady yourself.
He exhales through his nose, tension bleeding out as his shoulders drop a fraction. The kiss slows, less sharp, more lingering. His thumb brushing along your cheek.
When he pulls back, it’s only far enough for your foreheads to rest together.
“You embarrassed me,” he mutters quietly. Not angry, just honest.
You blink up at him. “I screamed because I was excited.” You explain, your voice softer than before.
“For another guy.” His eyebrows gently tense. You huff, unable to stop the small smile. “For a stage.”
His lips press together, clearly unconvinced.
“You’re still the one I look for in every room,” you add softly. Bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.
That finally makes his expression falter.
The pout fades. His eyes soften, and his hand slides up to squeeze yours instead while leaning into your hand.
“…You’re annoying,” he murmurs, though there’s no heat behind it now.
“And you’re dramatic,” you whisper back.
He lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh, shaking his head before leaning back into his seat. The car stays quiet for a moment longer, both of you settling after the rush of emotions.
Then he starts the engine again.
This time his hand finds your thigh more gently, thumb absentmindedly brushing over the fabric as he merges back onto the road.
The drive feels different now. Warm instead of tense. Streetlights pass over the windshield in slow intervals while soft music plays from the speakers, low enough to barely exist. You lean your head against the seat, watching his profile instead of the road.
After a few minutes he glances over. “Stop staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
You smile, turning toward the window anyway. The faint pink returning back to his ears.
The drive to his apartment is a quiet one. Once there, he parks, but neither of you move right away.
“…Next time,” he says, eyes forward, “cheer for me louder.”
You laugh softly. “Then give me a better performance.”
That earns you a look.
You just grin, already reaching for the door before he can retaliate.
From behind you, you hear him mutter under his breath —
“Unbelievable.”
But he’s smiling when he follows you out.
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