!! synopsis: you don't need help. ever. then you fail a class and get stuck with jake sim the campus fuckboy, and your new tutor. he's cocky. he's in your space. and you're about to learn that fuckboy's tutor best.
!! warnings: smut (mdni), dom jake, sub/bratty reader, oral, fingering, pet names, dirty talk, spanking, piv, unprotected sex (dont!), praising, semi public
!! wc: 9.5k
!! a/n: pics of jake always awake something in me, sry this took forever i debated hard on the flow of this story so sorry if it feels rushed, ENJOY!
The red F on your midterm was actually offensive.
Not because you'd worked hard. You hadn't. You'd skimmed the readings, showed up to class hungover twice, and submitted a study guide you'd filled out while watching a movie. The F was fair, the problem was it bruised your ego.
Professor Lee didn't even wait for the rest of the class to leave. She caught you at the door, hand on your arm, voice low enough that only you could hear.
"A word." You followed her to her desk, she held up your exam."38 percent." she said.
"I know, I'll study harder."
"You've been skating by on charm and curve points, and now the curve can't save you." She slid a piece of paper across the desk. "Peer tutoring. Mandatory. Twice a week until your average is above a C."
You picked up the paper. One name written in blue ink.
Jake Sim.
"Jake Sim?" you said.
"He's the best tutor I have. Top of the class last semester. Top of the class now.
You knew Jake Sim. Well, you didn't know him. You knew of him. Everyone did. The guy who showed up to every party with a new girl and left with whoever he wanted. The guy who never raised his voice but always got the last word. The guy who'd held a door open for you once and looked at you like he was already bored.
"He's a fuckboy," you said not thinking she heard.
Professor Lee didn't blink. "He's also the only reason six people are passing this class right now. You start Monday. His schedule is at the bottom."
You walked out of that office with your 38 percent and a new low.
Karina and Giselle were waiting for you outside, perched on a bench, phones in hand, looking like they'd been there for hours.
"Your face says disaster," Karina said.
"I have a tutor."
"Okay?"
"Jake Sim."
Giselle's head snapped up. "Jake Sim?"
"Unfortunately."
Karina burst out laughing. "The Jake Sim?"
"Yes."
"The one who went through three sororities in one semester?"
"Yes."
"The one who corrected Sunghoon's drink order at a party and then made out with his date an hour later?"
"Karina." you screamed.
"I'm just saying!" She was grinning now. "Damn. Not Jake."
"I know."
"But also..." Giselle tilted her head. "Damn. Jake is kinda hot."
"I don't care if he's hot. He's a walking red flag with good bone structure."
"And he's your tutor." Karina wiped a tear from her eye. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"I'm going to fail."
You sat down between them and put your head in your hands. "He's going to be insufferable. You know he's going to be insufferable. He's going to sit there with that stupid smirk and explain basic statistics like I'm a child and I'm going to have to pretend I don't want to throw my textbook at his head."
"Or," Giselle said, "you could just let him be hot and enjoy the view."
"I'm not going to enjoy anything."
"You've never even talked to him."
"I don't need to talk to him to know I hate him."
Karina patted your back. "That's the spirit."
Jake was mid-bite into his sandwich when Sunghoon kicked his foot under the table.
"You got assigned a tutoring student?"
Jake chewed. Swallowed. "Yeah."
"Who?"
"Does it matter?"
Jay leaned forward. "It matters cause we are nosy."
Heeseung was already scrolling through his phone. "Professor Lee's class? She sent out the list this morning."
Jake took another bite. He'd seen the name. He'd read it twice. He'd spent maybe longer than necessary staring at it.
He knew who you were. Everyone did. The girl who walked into parties like she owned them. The girl who never asked for help. The girl who'd looked at him just once across a crowded room, and then looked away like he wasn't worth a second glance.
"You're being weird," Jungwon said from the end of the table.
"I'm not being weird."
"You're not talking. That's weird for you."
Jake set his sandwich down. "It's Y/N."
Silence.
Then Sunghoon choked on his drink.
"The one who told Professor Kim to his face that his lecture was boring?"
"That's her."
Jay whistled. "She needs a tutor? I thought she had everything figured out."
"Apparently not."
Jungwon shrugged. "She's going to hate it."
"She's going to hate me."
"Probably."
Jake thought about that. Thought about your face the one time you'd looked at him. You hadn't smiled. Hadn't blushed. Hadn't done any of the things girls usually did when they looked at him.
You'd just looked. And then you'd walked away.
"I don't know," Heeseung said slowly. "She's hot. Like, really hot. Independent. People come to her for help. This might be interesting."
"Interesting how?" Jake asked.
"I don't know. Just... interesting. She's not going to fall all over you like everyone else does."
Jake picked up his sandwich. "I'm not trying to make her fall all over me."
"Sure you're not."
"I'm just tutoring her. That's it."
Sunghoon snorted. "Famous last words."
Jake didn't respond. But he couldn't stop thinking about your name on that paper.
Y/N.
He wondered if you'd text him first or if he'd have to reach out.
He wondered if you'd show up on Monday with that same look on your face like you had nothing to prove to anyone.
He wondered what it would take to make you look at him twice.
Three days before your first session, Karina dragged you to a party.
"I need to get out," she said.
"You need to get out. I need to study."
"No babes you need to drink."
The party was at some guy's house you didn't catch the name to and you didn't care. The music was too loud, the cups were sticky, and within twenty minutes, you'd lost Karina to the dance floor and Giselle to a guy who looked like he played club sports.
You were on your third drink when you saw him.
Jake.
He was on a couch in the corner, and there was a girl in his lap.
Not sitting next to him. Not leaning against him. Fully in his lap, her legs draped over his thigh, her lips hovering near his ear. His hand was on her waist. He wasn't kissing her but it was clearly heading there.
You recognized the girl. Wonyoung. She was in your psych class. She'd spent the entire semester batting her eyelashes at every guy within a ten foot radius.
Of course it was Wonyoung.
You looked away. Drank. Looked back.
His hand had moved lower.
"Ew," you said to no one.
Karina appeared at your elbow. "What?"
"Jake Sim. With the one and only."
Karina followed your gaze. "Oh. Yeah. That's Wonyoung. She's been trying to get his attention for weeks."
"He's letting her."
"That's what he does." Karina shrugged. "He's always like that. A different girl every week. Sometimes every night. It's his whole thing."
"His whole thing is gross."
"His whole thing is effective. Look at her. She's practically melting."
You took another drink. "I have to let him teach me statistics."
"Poor you."
"I'm serious. How am I supposed to sit across from someone who acts like that?"
"You could try not staring at him."
"Shut up."
Karina grabbed your hand. "Come on. You're too sober. We're dancing."
She pulled you onto the floor. The music shifted something with a bass you could feel in your chest. You let yourself move. Let yourself forget about the F and the tutoring and the way Jake's hand had looked on Wonyoung's waist.
A guy found you. Tall. Dark hair. Cute in a forgettable way. He smiled at you and you smiled back because why not, and then his hands were on your hips and you were dancing with him.
It was fine. It was nothing.
But across the room, someone was watching.
"She's here," Sunghoon said.
Jake didn't have to ask who. He'd seen you the second you walked in. The way the room shifted when you entered. The way people looked at you like you were the main character and they were just extras.
"Yeah," Jake said. "I saw her."
Wonyoung was still in his lap. He'd forgotten she was there until she shifted and pressed closer. He should focus on her. She was pretty. She was interested. She was easy.
But his eyes kept finding you.
You were dancing with some guy now. Some random guy who'd probably never talked to you before tonight. His hands were on your hips. You were laughing at something he said.
"Why is she dancing with him?" Jake asked.
Sunghoon looked. "Because she's at a party? Because he asked? Why do you care?"
"I don't."
"You're staring."
"I'm observing."
"Heeseung called it." Jay appeared on Jake's other side. "He said you'd be interested."
"I'm not interested."
"You've looked at her twelve times in the last ten minutes."
Jake pulled his eyes away. Wonyoung was looking at him expectantly. He'd missed something she'd said.
"Sorry," he said. "What?"
"I asked if you wanted to go somewhere quieter."
The implication was clear. A month ago, he would have said yes. A week ago, he would have said yes. But tonight, for some reason, the word stuck in his throat.
"I have an early class," he said.
Wonyoung's face flickered. "Oh."
She didn't look convinced, but she got off his lap. Walked away without looking back.
Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. "You just let her go."
"She's not going anywhere."
"She's going to find someone else."
"Good for her."
Jake stood up. He needed water. Or air. Or something that wasn't watching you dance with someone else.
He pushed through the crowd toward the back of the house. The hallway was quieter. The bathroom door was cracked open, light spilling out.
He was about to walk past when you stepped out.
You nearly collided with his chest.
"Oh-" You looked up. Your eyes were glassy. You were tipsy. Maybe more than tipsy. "You."
"Me."
"I was just thinking about you."
"Good things?"
"I was thinking about how much I don't want to see you on Monday."
Jake leaned against the wall. Arms crossed. Calm. "That's funny. I was thinking about how much I'm looking forward to it."
"You're lying."
"I don't lie."
"Everyone lies."
"Not me." He tilted his head. "You're drunk."
"I'm tipsy. There's a difference."
"You're going to be hungover on Monday."
"I'm going to be fine on Monday."
"We'll see."
You stepped closer. Pointed a finger at his chest. "You're my teacher now. That's so weird."
"I'm your tutor. Not your teacher."
"Same thing."
"Different thing."
"You're correcting me already?" Your eyes narrowed. "We haven't even started."
"I'm just preparing you."
"For what?"
"For me."
You stared at him. He stared back.
"I hate you," you said.
Jake smiled. Slow. "Monday. Library. Third floor. Seven o'clock. Don't be late."
"I'm never late."
"You were late to Professor Kim's lecture three times last semester."
Your mouth opened. Closed. "How do you know that?"
"I pay attention."
You blinked at him. Then you shook your head and pushed past him, stumbling slightly on your way back to the party.
Jake watched you go.
He was definitely looking forward to Monday.
You showed up at 6:58 because you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of being late.
The library was mostly empty on a Monday night. Third floor was silent except for the hum of the vending machine and the squeak of your shoes on the floor.
Jake was already there. Of course he was.
He was sitting at a table near the window, laptop open, textbook out, pens lined up perfectly. He looked up when you approached.
"You're early," he said.
"I'm on time."
He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit down."
You sat. Dropped your bag on the floor. Crossed your arms.
"So." He closed his laptop. "Show me your exam."
"No."
"I can help you by explaining why you failed."
Your jaw tightened. "I didn't fail. I got a 38. That's not technically failing. That's... adjacent to failing."
"38 is failing."
"It's a soft fail."
"There's no such thing."
"There is if I say there is."
Jake leaned back in his chair. Studied you. "You're going to be difficult, aren't you?"
"I'm not difficult. I'm particular."
"Same thing, different font."
You almost smiled. Almost. "Fine." You pulled the exam out of your bag and slid it across the table. "There. Happy?"
He picked it up. Read it. Didn't react. "Okay," he said. "Here's the problem. You don't know how to study."
"I know how to study."
"You know how to memorize things the night before and hope for the best. That's not studying."
"It's worked so far."
"Has it?" He held up the exam. "Because this looks like your luck ran out."
You opened your mouth. Closed it.
"Here's how this is going to work," he said. "You're going to stop pretending you're too good for this. I'm going to stop pretending you're not smart. And we're both going to get through this without killing each other."
"That last part isn't guaranteed."
He almost smiled. "Deal."
He stood up. Walked to the whiteboard the library kept in the corner. Picked up a marker.
"Come here."
You didn't move.
"I'm not going to bite." He looked over his shoulder. "Unless you want me to."
"Enough with the games Sim."
"Then come here so I can actually teach you something."
You stood up. Walked to the whiteboard. Stood as far away from him as possible while still being able to see.
He drew a curve. Labeled it. Started explaining. And he was good at it.
Not condescending. Not slow. Just clear. He asked questions and waited for answers. He didn't fill the silence when you were thinking. He let you struggle until you got it.
A hour in, you understood p-values.
"This shouldn't make sense."
"But it does."
He capped the marker. "Same time Wednesday."
"Yeah."
"Try not to be so angry next time."
"I'm not angry. You grabbed your bag. Walked toward the stairs.
"Hey," he called. You turned.
Jake was leaning against the whiteboard, arms crossed. "You're not stupid. You just don't like being bad at things. There's a difference."
"That's like the second time you've said that."
"Because you keep needing to hear it."
You left. But you thought about it the whole walk home.
The sessions blurred together. Two weeks. Four sessions. Then six.
You stopped fighting it somewhere around session three. Not because you'd given up but because you'd started to actually get it. The material made sense when Jake explained it. He had a way of breaking things down that didn't make you feel like an idiot.
He was still cocky. Still insufferable. Still looked at you like he knew something you didn't.
But you weren't snapping at him anymore. You were learning.
"You're different," Karina said one day at lunch.
"I'm not different."
"You smiled at your phone. Three times. In a row."
"I was looking at memes."
"You were texting Jake."
"I was texting Jake about homework." You threw a fry at her.
Giselle watched the exchange with amusement. "She's not wrong. You've been in a good mood lately."
"I'm in a normal mood."
"You failed a midterm and you're being tutored by a fuckboy. You should be miserable."
"Maybe I've accepted my fate."
You were mid-bite into your sandwich when a shadow fell over the table.
"Hey."
You looked up. Jake was standing there. Holding your jacket.
The jacket you'd left at his apartment two days ago after a session that ran late. The jacket you'd completely forgotten about until this exact moment.
"You left this," he said. "You keep leaving things at my place."
"I don't do it on purpose."
"Sure you don't."
He set the jacket on the table. His fingers brushed yours. Too long to be accidental.
Everyone was watching. Not just Karina and Giselle, who had both gone completely still. But the tables around you. The people walking past. The girl at the fountain who'd been trying to get Jake's attention for weeks.
Wonyoung. She was standing near your table, coffee in hand, eyes locked on you. On the jacket. On the way Jake was looking at you.
"Thanks," you said, pulling the jacket toward you.
"See you Thursday," Jake said. He walked away.
The second he was out of earshot, Karina slammed her hands on the table and screamed.
"What the fuck was that!?"
"Nothing."
"That was not nothing. That was something. He brought you your jacket. He remembered your jacket. He came to find you to give you your jacket."
"He's polite."
"He's not polite. He's a fuckboy. Fuckboys don't return jackets. They keep them as trophies."
Giselle was staring at you. "You've been to his apartment."
"For tutoring."
"You're lying."
"I'm not"
"Y/N." Karina grabbed your wrist. "Look at me. Are you sleeping with him?"
"No!"
"Are you going to sleep with him?"
"I don't- I haven't- I don't know."
Karina and Giselle exchanged a look.
"Oh my God," Giselle whispered. "She likes him."
"I don't like him."
"You like him."
"I tolerate him."
Across the courtyard, Wonyoung was still watching.
She found you after class two days later.
You were walking across campus, earbuds in, not paying attention, when a hand grabbed your arm.
You spun around. Wonyoung.
"What the hell?" you said, pulling your arm back.
"Sorry." She didn't look sorry. "I need to talk to you."
"About?"
"Jake."
You sighed. "I don't have time for this."
"It'll take two minutes."
You looked at her. She was smaller than you remembered. Prettier, too, in a polished, intentional way. Her nails were done. Her hair was curled. She looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine.
"Fine," you said. "Talk."
"What's going on with you and Jake?"
"Nothing."
"He brought you your jacket."
"He's my tutor. He was being nice."
Wonyoung's eyes narrowed. "Jake isn't nice."
"Then why do you want him so badly?"
The question caught her off guard. Her composure cracked, just slightly.
"I've been trying to get his attention for months," she said. "Months. And he's never looked at me the way he looks at you."
You didn't know what to say to that.
"I'm not trying to be mean," Wonyoung continued. "I just want to know. Are you together? Is that a thing?"
"We're not together."
"But you want to be."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
She stepped back. Crossed her arms. "Fine. Whatever. Just... don't waste him. If you're not serious about him, let him go."
"I don't think Jake Sim is the kind of guy you need to protect."
"Maybe not." Wonyoung turned to walk away. Then stopped. "But you're not the only one who sees something in him."
She left.
You stood there for a long moment.
Then you pulled out your phone.
You: Some girl just cornered me about you.
Jake: Which one?
You: Wonyoung.
Jake: Ah.
You: That's all you have to say?
Jake: She's harmless.
You: She wants you.
Jake: A lot of people want me.
You: Cocky.
Jake: Honest.
You: Same thing.
Jake: Different font.
You almost smiled.
Jake: See you Thursday.
You: See you Thursday.
You brought it up during your next session.
Not on purpose. It just slipped out.
"So Wonyoung," you said, not looking up from your notebook.
Jake didn't look up either. "What about her?"
"You two have history?"
"Define history."
"I saw her at that party cuddled up with you."
He paused. Then set his pen down. "That was before we started tutoring."
"So?"
"So, nothing. She was there. I was there. It didn't mean anything."
"It looked like it meant something."
Jake leaned back in his chair. Studied you. "Are you jealous?"
"I'm not jealous."
"Your face is red." Jake smiled. Slow. "You're jealous."
"I'm not jealous. I'm... curious."
"About my romantic history?"
"About whether you're going to keep doing that while you're supposed to be tutoring me."
"Would it bother you if I did?"
You looked at him. Really looked."Yes," you said.
The word hung in the air.
Jake didn't smile. Didn't tease. He just looked at you, and something shifted in his expression. Something softer.
"Good," he said.
"Good?"
"Good that it would bother you." He picked up his pen. "It would bother me too. If it were the other way around."
You didn't know what to say to that. So you looked back down at your notebook and pretended to study.
But you could feel him watching you. And for the first time, you didn't hate it.
It happened after a late session.
You'd been studying for three hours. Your brain was fried. Your eyes were tired. And Jake had been looking at you all night like you were something he wanted to eat.
"You're staring," you said.
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About how you bite your lip when you're concentrating."
Your pen stopped moving.
"Don't," you said.
"Don't what?"
"Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because we're supposed to be studying."
"We've been studying for three hours. Take a break."
"I don't need a break."
"You do." He stood up. Walked around the table. Leaned against it, right next to your chair. "You've been tensing your shoulders for the last hour. You haven't blinked in thirty seconds. You need a break."
"I need to pass this class."
"You will. But tonight you need to relax."
You looked up at him. He was close. Too close.
"And how do you suggest I do that?"
Jake's hand came up to your face. Slow. Deliberate. His thumb brushed your lower lip. "Let me," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I want to."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you need."
You should have said no. You should have packed your bag and walked out and gone home and thought about this in the morning. Instead, you kissed him.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't tentative. It was hungry and frustrated and tasted like every argument you'd been having for weeks. His hands were in your hair. Your hands were on his chest. He pulled you up from the chair and pressed you against the table.
"There she is," he murmured against your mouth.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
You kissed him harder.
He laughed. Then his hands were under your shirt and your hands were in his hair and you had never wanted anyone the way you wanted him right now.
"Bedroom," he said.
"Yeah."
He took your hand.
His bedroom was dark. The sheets were rumpled. It smelled like him, clean, with something underneath that you couldn't name. He pushed the door closed and turned to look at you.
"Last chance," he said.
"For what?"
"To change your mind."
"I'm not going to change my mind."
He kissed you again. Slower this time. His hands slid under your shirt, palms flat against your ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra. You gasped against his mouth.
"Tell me what you want," he said.
"I want you to stop talking."
"That's not how this works." He pulled back. Looked at you. His eyes were dark. Serious. "I need to hear you say it."
"Say what?"
"Say you want this. Say you want me. Not because you're stressed. Not because of the tutoring. Because you've been thinking about this as much as I have."
Your heart was pounding.
"How do you know I've been thinking about it?"
"Because you're here. Because you kissed me first. Because you're looking at me right now like you want to climb inside my skin." He tilted his head. "Am I wrong?"
You grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.
"I want you," you said against his mouth. "I've wanted you since the party. Since the first session. Since you said good girl like it meant something."
"It meant something."
"Then show me."
He took his time. Unhurried. Every touch deliberate. Every kiss slower than the last. You tried to rush him. You grabbed at his belt, tugged at his shirt, tried to flip him over. He caught your wrists. Held them above your head.
"Not yet," he said. Voice low. Firm.
"Jake-"
"I've been waiting for this." His lips brushed your ear. "I'm not going to rush. You're not going to rush. You're going to take what I give you. Understood?"
You glared at him. "You're not the boss of me."
"Tonight I am."
"That's cute."
He squeezed your wrists. Not hard. Just enough. "You want to test me? Go ahead. But you're not going to win."
"You're insufferable."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
He smiled. Then he released your wrists and his mouth was on your neck, your collarbone, lower. He kissed down your stomach, your hips, your thighs. He took his time there too, mouthing at the sensitive skin, breathing hot against you.
"You're so tense," he murmured.
"I'm not tense."
"You're shaking."
"I'm cold."
"You're not cold."
He looked up at you. Held your gaze. Then he lowered his mouth where you wanted him most.
You gasped. Your hands flew to his hair.
"That's it," he said against you. "Hold on."
He worked you slowly, deliberately, watching your face the whole time. Every time you got close, he pulled back. Every time you whined, he smiled.
"Please," you finally said.
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop."
"Good girl."
He didn't stop.
His mouth was everywhere tongue flat against you, then pointed, then circling exactly where you needed him most. He groaned against your skin like he was the one getting pleased, like tasting you was his reward, not yours. His hands pinned your hips down when you tried to squirm away, holding you open for him, taking his time. He wasn't in a rush. He wanted to watch you fall apart.
When you came, you came hard, back arching off the bed, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. He didn't let you recover. He kissed up your body, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.
You reached for him, pulled him up, tried to flip him onto his back.
He didn't move.
"Not yet," he said.
"Jake-"
"You think we're done?" He pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was hot. His voice was low. "We're just getting started."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
He smiled. Slow. Dangerous.
"Pop quiz."
You blinked. "What?"
He pulled back. Sat up on his knees. Looked down at you spread out beneath him flushed, wet, still shaking from your orgasm.
"You've been learning a lot in our sessions," he said. "But I want to make sure you're paying attention."
"To statistics?"
"To me."
He reached for his belt. Unbuckled it slowly. Pulled it free from the loops.
"This is a different kind of lesson," he said. "But the rules are the same. I ask a question. You answer. If you get it right, you get rewarded."
"And if I get it wrong?"
He folded the belt in half. Tapped it against his palm.
"You get punished."
You moaned, your stomach flipped. Heat pooled low in your belly.
"What kind of questions?"
"We'll start easy." He leaned down, kissed your neck, bit softly at your collarbone. "What's the formula for a confidence interval?"
"You're joking."
"I never joke about education."
You stared at him. He stared back. His eyes were dark. Serious. Waiting.
"Sample mean," you said slowly, "plus or minus the critical value times the standard error."
"Good job."
He kissed you. Deep. Rewarding. His hand slid between your legs, fingers finding you already wet, already ready.
"That's one," he said against your mouth. "Want another?"
"Yes."
"Then pay attention."
He flipped you onto your stomach. Pulled your hips up. The belt was still in his hand.
"What's a Type I error?" he asked.
"False positive," you said quickly. "Rejecting a true null hypothesis."
"Good."
He pushed into you from behind. No warning. No slow build. Just full, deep, stretching you open. You cried out, fingers gripping the sheets.
"Jake- fuck"
"That's one point." He pulled out almost all the way. Held there. "What's a Type II error?"
You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. He was barely inside you, just the tip, and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing.
"Jake, please-"
"Wrong answer."
The belt came down on your ass. Not hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to sting. You gasped.
"Type II error," he said calmly. "False negative. Failing to reject a false null hypothesis." He pushed back in, slow, torturous. "Try again."
"Type II-" You couldn't focus. He was moving now, shallow thrusts, not enough. "Type II is false negative-"
"Full sentence."
"Type II error is failing to reject- fuck- failing to reject a false null hypothesis."
"Good fucking girl."
He snapped his hips forward. Hard. Deep. You moaned into the pillow.
"You want another question?"
"Yes Jakey please"
"What's the difference between a one-tailed and a two-tailed test?"
You knew this. But he was fucking you now, really fucking you, and every thrust pushed the answer further out of your brain.
"A one-tailed-" He hit a spot that made your vision white out. "A one-tailed tests in one direction- two-tailed tests both-"
"Both what?"
"Both directions-"
"And when do you use each?"
"I don't- fuck, Jake- I can't-"
The belt came down again. Harder this time.
"Incorrect," he said. His voice was colder now. Disappointed. "You're not even trying."
"I am trying-"
"You're distracted." He pulled out. Flipped you onto your back. Stared down at you. "You're so fucked out you can't even answer basic questions."
Your face burned. From the sex. From the shame. From the way he was looking at you.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
"Sorry isn't good enough."
He grabbed your chin. Forced you to look at him.
"You wanted this. You wanted me. Now you're going to take what I give you and you're going to earn it."
"Yes Jake"
"Shut up."
He pushed back inside you. Harder than before. Faster. His hand closed around your throat not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who was in charge.
"I've been patient," he said, fucking you with each word. "I've been nice. I've let you be bratty and difficult and act like you're too good for this. But right now? Right now you're just a girl on her back, taking my cock because she can't handle a few simple questions."
Your eyes watered. From the sting. From the heat. From the way his words were making you feel things you didn't want to name.
"Say it," he said.
"Say what-"
"Say you're mine. Right now. In this bed. You're fucking mine."
"Mmm I'm yours-"
"Louder."
"I'm yours Jake, all yours."
He kissed you. Bruising. Claiming. His hand moved from your throat to your hair, pulling, tilting your head back.
"One more question," he said. "Get it right and I'll let you cum."
"Okay-"
"What's the probability that I'm going to stop until you've cum at least three more times?"
You blinked at him.
"That's not a real question-"
"Wrong answer."
He pulled out. Flipped you over again. Pulled your hips up and drove back in, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.
You came without warning. Without permission. Your body just broke, clenching around him, sobbing into the pillow.
He didn't stop.
"That's one," he said. "Two more to go."
"Jake- I can't-"
"You can. And you fucking will slut."
He fucked you through it. Through the oversensitivity, through the tears, through the way your arms gave out and your face pressed into the mattress.
When you came again, it was on his command. His voice in your ear. And your body obeyed.
"You're learning," he said.
He pulled out. Rolled you onto your back one last time. Stared down at you all wrecked, crying, completely undone.
"One more," he said.
"Fuck I can't-"
"You can."
He pushed back inside you. Slow this time. Gentle. His thumb found your clit and circled softly, coaxing, not demanding.
"Look at me," he said.
You looked at him.
His face was different now. Softer. His eyes were dark but not cold. He pulled you on top of him while watching you like you were something precious.
"Cum for me," he said quietly. "One more time. Nice and slow."
You came apart rolling your hips, letting it wash over you. He followed right after, buried deep, forehead pressed to yours.
Neither of you moved.
His hand came up to your face. Wiped your tears.
"You did good," he said.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"No," you agreed. "I don't."
He pulled out. Pulled you against his chest. Wrapped his arms around you.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.
"For tutoring?"
"For whatever you want."
You laughed. It came out weak.
"Yeah," you said. "Same time tomorrow."
After that first night, something shifted.
Not dramatically. Not with words or labels or awkward conversations. It just happened. Slowly. Naturally.
Tutoring sessions still happened. Twice a week, sometimes three times. Jake still explained statistics with that infuriating calm, and you still rolled your eyes and snapped at him when he got too cocky. But now, when the session ended, you didn't leave right away.
The first time you stayed, it was because you were tired. Really tired. You'd been up late studying for a different exam, and when Jake finished explaining p-values for the third time, you put your head down on the table and didn't pick it back up.
"You can't sleep here," he said.
"I'm not sleeping. I'm resting my eyes."
"You're snoring."
"I don't snore."
"You're snoring right now."
You lifted your head just enough to glare at him. He was smiling with a shine to his eyes.
"Come on," he said. "The couch is more comfortable."
That was the first night you fell asleep on his couch. He threw a blanket over you and sat on the floor next to you, grading papers by the light of his laptop. When you woke up at 2 AM, he was asleep sitting up, head tilted back, mouth slightly open.
You should have gone home.
You didn't.
You pulled him down onto the couch next to you, and he wrapped an arm around you without waking up, and you fell back asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
After that, it became a thing.
Some nights you slept together the real kind, the messy kind, the kind that left you breathless and sore and smiling into the dark. Other nights you just watched movies. He liked action. You liked horror. You compromised on thrillers and spent most of the time arguing about the plot.
He made you popcorn on the stove, not the microwave, because he was "not a savage." You made fun of him for it. Then you ate three servings.
You never talked about what you were.
Not once.
You were tutoring. You were sleeping together. You were cuddling on his couch at 1 AM, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm, your head on his chest.
But you weren't together.
Or maybe you were. Neither of you said it.
Karina asked. Of course she did.
"So," she said one day at lunch, "are you guys like... together together?"
"I don't know."
"How do you not know?"
"Because we haven't talked about it."
"You've slept together multiple times."
"I'm aware."
"You cuddle?"
"...Yes."
"You text him good morning?"
"That's private."
"That's a yes." Karina leaned back. "You're together. You just haven't admitted it yet."
"We're not not together."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means I don't know what it means."
Giselle snorted. "That's the most non answer I've ever heard."
But they weren't wrong. Something had changed. You felt it every time Jake looked at you. Every time his hand found yours under the table. Every time he said good night like he meant stay.
You just didn't know how to name it.
Neither did he.
Jake's friends noticed before he did.
Or maybe they noticed first. He'd been different lately. Softer. He laughed more. He checked his phone more. He left parties early without explanation.
"You're whipped," Sunghoon said.
"I'm not whipped."
"You left Jay's party at 10 PM because she texted you."
"I was tired."
"You've never been tired at parties."
Jake didn't have an answer for that.
They were at their usual table on campus, halfway through lunch. Jay was picking at his food. Heeseung was scrolling on his phone.
"So," Jay said, "are you going to ask her out or what?"
"We're already... doing things."
"Doing things isn't dating."
"We watch movies."
"That's not dating either."
"We sleep together."
Jay raised his eyebrows. "Okay, that's closer. But still not dating."
Jake ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what we are."
"Then ask her."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
Because he was scared. Because he'd never done this before. Because every time he looked at you, he felt something he couldn't name, and naming it made it real, and real meant he could lose it.
"Because," he said.
"Great reason."
Heeseung looked up from his phone. "You like her."
"I know I like her."
"Then do something about it."
Jake was quiet for a moment. Then he stood up.
"Where are you going?" Sunghoon asked.
"To find her. She has class in twenty minutes. I'm going to walk with her."
Jay cheered. "That's adorable."
"Shut up."
"You're blushing."
"I'm not blushing."
Jake flipped him off and walked away.
Behind him, he heard Sunghoon say, "Told you. Whipped."
He didn't turn around.
You were sitting on a bench near the science building, Karina on one side and Giselle on the other, when the topic of Jake came up.
It always came up lately.
"So," Karina said, kicking your foot, "have you guys talked about it yet?"
"Talked about what?"
"About what you are."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know what to say."
Giselle leaned in. "You could start with 'I like you.'"
"I don't even know if he wants that."
Karina stared at you. "Are you serious?"
"What?"
"He cuddles you. He makes you popcorn. He walked you home in the rain last week. He looks at you like you hung the moon."
"He looks at everyone like that."
"He absolutely does not. I've seen him look at other girls. He looks at them like he's deciding what to order for dinner. He looks at you like he's already eaten and he's still hungry."
Giselle nodded. "She's right. He's down bad."
"He's not down bad."
"He texted you good morning every day for two weeks."
You laughed. "You guys are insane."
"We're realistic. You're the one who's in denial."
"Fine. Maybe I like him."
"Maybe?"
"Okay. I like him."
"And?" Karina prompted.
"And... I don't know what to do about it."
"You could start by not hiding it."
"I'm not hiding it."
"You literally just whispered 'I like him' like it was a secret."
"It's not a secret."
"Then say it louder."
"I like him," you said, normal volume.
"Louder."
"I like him!"
"And?"
"I like Jake Sim!."
"And?"
"And I want him to be my boyfriend!."
The words echoed across the courtyard.
You froze.
Because standing ten feet away, right at the edge of the path, was Jake.
He had his hands in his pockets. His head was tilted. And he was smiling.
"Is that so?" he asked.
Your face went red. Karina and Giselle dissolved into giggles behind you.
"Jake-" you started.
"I like you too, by the way." He walked closer. Stopped in front of you. "And I want to be your boyfriend."
"You heard that?"
"Everyone heard that."
You looked around. A few people were staring. Someone was openly filming.
"Oh my God."
"Yeah." Jake was still smiling. "So. Boyfriend?"
"Shut up."
"Is that a yes?"
"It's a shut up."
"I'll take that as a yes."
He leaned down and kissed you. Right there. In front of everyone. Karina whooped. Giselle clapped.
When he pulled back, your face was somehow even redder.
"I hate you," you said.
"No, you don't."
"You're right," you agreed.
"Good. Now walk me to class."
"You walk me to class."
He laughed. Took your hand. Pulled you up from the bench.
"See you later," he said to Karina and Giselle.
You didn't look back. Jake's hand was warm in yours.
"So," he said. "Boyfriend."
"Don't push it."
"Too late. I'm pushing it."
"You're insufferable."
"Your insufferable boyfriend."
You stopped walking. Looked at him.
"My boyfriend," you said.
"Yeah."
"Like, officially?"
"Like officially."
You kissed him again. Quick. Soft.
"Wow that was easy hmm okay," you said.
"Okay?"
"Okay, boyfriend."
He grinned.
"Now walk me to class," you said.
"Yes, ma'am."
He didn't let go of your hand the whole way.
You were exhausted.
Not because you hadn't slept. You had. But you'd slept with Jake, which meant you'd stayed up late talking, then not talking, then talking again. By the time you actually fell asleep, it was almost 3 AM.
Now you were in Professor Lee's lecture, and your eyelids were winning the war.
You rested your head on your hand. Blinked. Blinked again.
Your eyes closed.
"You're falling asleep," a voice whispered.
Jake. He was sitting next to you. He'd started sitting next to you in every class you shared, which was three. He said it was "strategic." You said it was "clingy."
"I'm not falling asleep," you murmured. "I'm resting my eyes."Your head slipped off your hand. You caught yourself just before it hit the desk.
Jake laughed quietly.
"Go away," you mumbled.
"No."
"Then let me sleep."
"You can't sleep in class."
"Watch me."
You put your head down on the desk. Your eyes closed. The professor's voice faded into background noise.
You were almost there. Almost asleep.
Then you felt it.
Jake's hand on your thigh.
You didn't move. Didn't react. Maybe he was just...
His hand slid higher. Your eyes opened.
"Jake," you whispered.
"Shh."
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping you awake."
"This isn't keeping me awake."
His fingers found the button of your jeans. Your breath caught.
"Stop," you whispered.
"Do you want me to stop?"
You didn't answer. He took that as a no.
Jake's fingers worked the button of your jeans open. Slow. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world.
You should have stopped him.
You were in class. In the third row. Professor Lee was ten feet away, droning on about statistical significance. There were people on either side of you. People behind you. People who could look up at any moment and see exactly what was happening.
You should have stopped him.
You didn't.
His hand slipped inside your jeans. Past the waistband of your underwear. His fingers were warm, fingertips rough against your skin, and he moved with the confidence of someone who already knew exactly where to touch.
"You're wet," he murmured, so quiet only you could hear.
"Jake."
"You've been thinking about this?"
"No."
"Liar."
His finger circled your clit. Once. Twice. You bit your lip to keep from making a sound.
"Look at me," he said.
You turned your head. His eyes were dark. Focused. That stupid smirk was gone, replaced by something hungrier.
"Don't make a sound," he said.
"I won't."
He slid a finger inside you.
Your hand flew to your mouth. You pressed your knuckles against your lips, breathing hard through your nose. The professor kept talking. No one looked back. No one knew.
Except Jake.
He added a second finger. Curled them. Hit a spot that made your vision blur.
"Jake," you breathed.
"Shh."
"Someone's going to see."
"Then you'd better be quiet love."
He pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, watching your face the whole time. His thumb pressed against your clit with every thrust. You were gripping the edge of the desk so hard your knuckles were white.
"So tight," he murmured. "You're going to cum already?"
"No."
"You're close. I can feel it."
"You can't-"
"I can feel everything." He leaned closer. His lips brushed your ear. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you want me. You're dripping down my fingers princess."
Your face burned. Your body burned. Everything burned.
"Please," you whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop."
He didn't.
His fingers moved faster. Harder. His thumb pressed down. You were shaking, legs trembling under the desk, teeth sinking into your knuckle to muffle the sounds.
"That's it," he whispered. "Cum for me. Right here. In class. With everyone watching."
It ripped through you, sudden and violent, your back arching, your eyes squeezing shut. You bit down so hard on your hand you left marks. Jake's fingers kept moving, working you through it, prolonging it until you were nothing but static.
When you finally opened your eyes, he was smiling.
"I hate you."
"You just came on my fingers in the middle of class."You're going to thank me later."
He pulled his hand out of your jeans. Slowly. Deliberately. And then still watching you he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.
One by one.
His eyes never left yours. You forgot how to breathe.
"Jake," you said. Your voice came out strangled.
"Yeah?"
"We need to leave."
"Class isn't over."
"I don't care."
"You don't?"
"No."
You stood up. Grabbed your bag. Your legs were still shaking. Jake watched you with that infuriating calm, like he knew exactly what was coming next.
"Y/N," he said.
"Get up Jake."
"Where are we going?"
"Bathroom. Janitor's closet. Your car. I don't care. Get up."
He stood. Sling his bag over his shoulder. His hand found the small of your back as you walked toward the door. Professor Lee didn't even look up.
The second you were in the hallway, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the stairwell.
"Impatient," he said.
"Shut up."
"You dragged me out of class."
"Shut up."
"You must really want-"
You pushed him against the wall of the stairwell and kissed him. Hard. His hands went to your waist. Yours went to his belt.
"Someone could come in," he said against your mouth.
"Then you'd better be quiet."
He laughed. "Learning from me?"
"You started it in class."
"I was keeping you awake."
"You think you're funny," you said while dropping to your knees.
Jake's breath hitched.
"Oh," he said.
"Yeah. Oh."
Your hands found his belt. Unbuckled it. Pulled it open. His jeans came next, then his boxers, and he was already hard, already leaking, already looking down at you like he couldn't believe this was happening.
"You've been thinking about this," you said.
"Every day."
"Every session?"
"Every single one."
You wrapped your hand around him. Stroked once. Twice. He groaned, head falling back against the wall.
"Shh," you said. "Be quiet."
"You be quiet."
"I'm not the one who's going to make noise."
"You're about to be."
You leaned forward. Took him in your mouth.
His hand flew to your hair. Not pushing. Just holding. Just feeling.
You started slow. Teasing. Tongue flat against the underside, then pointed, then circling the tip. He tasted like salt and soap and something else you couldn't name.
"Jesus," he breathed.
You pulled off. Looked up at him.
"If I can be quiet during class," you said, "you can be quiet in a stairwell."
"That's different-"
His grip tightened in your hair. "You're evil," he said.
"You like it."
"I hate it."
"No, you don't."
You took him again. Deeper this time. He groaned, low and rough, and you felt it in your chest.
You set a rhythm. Slow. Deliberate. Every time he got close to the edge, you pulled back. Let him cool down. Started again.
He was a mess in your hands. Leaning against the wall, head back, jaw slack, breathing in short, sharp gasps.
"You're killing me," he whispered.
You took him deeper. Swallowed around him. His hips jerked.
"Fuck-"
A door opened above you.
Footsteps. Echoing down the stairs.
Someone was coming.
Jake's eyes flew open. He reached for your shoulders, tried to pull you off.
"Stop," he whispered. "Someone's-"
You didn't stop.
"Y/N-"
You looked up at him. Didn't let go. Didn't slow down.
His face was going through all kinds of emotions. Fear and pleasure and something darker, something hungrier. He was frozen, torn between pushing you away and holding you there.
The footsteps got closer.
Jake clamped a hand over his own mouth.
You smiled around him.
The footsteps passed. A door opened. Closed.
Silence.
Jake pulled you off by your hair. Not hard. Just enough.
"You didn't stop," he said.
"And?"
His eyes were black. His chest was heaving.
"You're going to regret that," he said.
"No, I'm not."
He grabbed you by the jaw and pressed you against the wall, back to concrete, his body flush against your chest.
"You think you're in control," he said into your ear.
"I know I am."
"You're not."
His hand fisted in your hair. Tilted your head back.
"Open," he said.
You opened your mouth.
He pushed inside. Not gentle. Not slow. Rough and deep and exactly what you'd been waiting for.
"You wanted to play," he said, thrusting into your mouth. "Now you're going to finish what you started."
His hand held you in place. His hips snapped forward. He fucked your mouth like he'd been holding back the whole time and he had finally snapped.
You gagged. Tears pricked your eyes. You didn't pull away.
"That's it," he groaned. "That's my girl."
He was messy. Sloppy. Spit dripped down your chin. He didn't care. Neither did you.
"I'm close," he said. "You're going to take all of it like a champ right?"
You looked up at him. Nodded as best you could.
He came with a choked sound, buried deep in your throat, and you swallowed everything. Didn't miss a drop.
He pulled out. Stepped back to admire you.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Looked up at him.
He was wrecked. Hair a mess. Chest still heaving. Looking at you like you'd just ruined him for anyone else.
"Good girl," he said, voice hoarse.
You stood up. Fixed your clothes. Fixed his.
"We're going to be late for class," you said.
"I don't care."
"You should care. You're a tutor."
"I'm your tutor." He kissed you. Soft this time. Almost sweet. He took your hand. Led you back toward the door.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.
"Same stairwell?"
"Same stairwell."
You laughed. Pushed the door open.
The hallway was empty.
No one knew what had just happened.
That was the best part, it was yours and Jakes dirty secret.
Parties weren't your thing anymore. Or maybe they were, but you'd rather be on Jake's couch, wrapped in his hoodie, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin while some terrible action movie played in the background.
But Jake had asked.
"Come with me," he'd said, tugging on the sleeve of his black button down. The one that made your brain short-circuit.
"Why?"
"Because I want to show you off."
"You want to show me off?"
"Yeah." He said it like it was obvious. "You're hot. I'm hot. We're hot together. People should know."
So now you were here.
The music was loud enough to feel in your teeth, and the lights were low enough that you could pretend no one was staring.
But they were staring.
Because you walked in with Jake's hand on your lower back, his fingers pressed into the curve of your waist, and everyone noticed.
That's Jake's girl.
Damn, they look good together.
You danced with Jake. You drank something sweet that he handed you. You met his friends properly met them, not just the passing introductions from before.
"I'm going to grab a drink. You want one?"
"Yeah. Same thing."
"Be right back."
He disappeared into the crowd.
That's when she found you.
"You think you're so special."
You turned. Wonyoung.
She was standing a few feet away, drink in hand, eyes sharp. She looked good she always looked good but there was something brittle about her tonight. Something desperate.
"Wonyoung," you said.
"Don't say my name like you know me."
"I don't know you. That's the point."
She stepped closer. "You think you've won."
"I'm not playing a game."
She stepped closer. Close enough that you could smell her perfume. "He's going to get bored of you," she said. "He gets bored of everyone. You're not special. You're just the one who said no first. That's all this is. A challenge. Once he wins, he'll move on."
"You already tried that line."
"Because it's true."
"It's not."
"How do you know?"
You tilted your head. "Because I'm here. And you're not."
Her face twisted. "You're such a bitch."
"And you're obsessed with my boyfriend. Which one's worse?"
"You're not even-"
"I'm not even what? His girlfriend?" You smiled. "I am. He asked. I said yes. Sorry you had to find out like this."
Wonyoung's face went red. Then white. Then red again.
"You're lying." She looked like she wanted to throw her drink in your face. You almost wished she would. At least then you'd have an excuse.
But before she could move, a hand landed on your waist. Jake.
"I leave for five minutes," he said, voice calm, "and you're already causing trouble."
"I'm not causing anything. She started it."
Jake looked at Wonyoung. His expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes went cold.
"Wonyoung," he said. "We've talked about this."
"Have we?" She laughed. "You've been ignoring me for weeks. You don't return my texts. You don't even look at me anymore."
"Because I have nothing to say to you."
"You had plenty to say before."
"That was before." He stepped closer to you. His hand stayed on your waist. "Before her."
Wonyoung's eyes flicked to you. Filled with something ugly.
"I'm going to say this once," Jake said. "Stay away from her. Stay away from me. If I hear about you coming near her again, talking to her, texting her, even looking at her I'm going to make sure everyone knows exactly what you've been doing."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Wonyoung stared at him. Then at you. Then back at him.
"I loved you," she whispered.
"No." Jake shook his head. "You wanted to win me. There's a difference."
She didn't respond instead she turned and walked away.
Jake's hand was still on your waist. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, she's not worth my energy."
He watched your face for a long moment. Looking for cracks. Finding none. You let the silence stretch. Let your heartbeat slow. Then you looked up at him.
"I've been meaning to tell you something."
"I got a 95 on the test."
Jake blinked. "What?"
"The exam. The one you've been tutoring me for. 95 percent."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Show me."
You pulled out your phone. Opened the grade portal. Turned the screen toward him.
95. Right there. Jake stared at it. Then at you. Then back at the screen.
"You did that," he said.
"We did that."
"No." He shook his head. "You did that. I just explained things. You did the work."
"Jake-"
"95 percent." He was smiling now. The one that made your chest ache. "That's my girl."
Your face went warm. "Don't."
"My girl with the 95."
"Jake."
"My girl who's going to pass the class with flying colors because she's smarter than she gives herself credit for."
"Okay, okayyyy"
"My girl."
He kissed you.
Not hard. Not desperate. Soft. Slow. Like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
"I'm proud of you," he said. "Like, really proud."
"I know."
"Like, I'm going to tell everyone how proud I am."
"Please don't."
"Too late. I'm already texting Sunghoon."
"Jake!"
He was already typing. Grinning. You laughed. Hit his chest. He caught your hand and held it.
"Same time tomorrow?"
You looked at him. The cocky tutor who'd gotten under your skin. The guy who remembered your coffee order and mopped on Mondays and looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
Heeseung’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, as he gently bounced his squirming baby girl in his arms. His heart ached, knowing how much he’d been away recently. The relentless demands of idol life had kept him from moments like these—simple, precious moments with his daughter. Yet here he was now, home at last, determined to make up for lost time while you rested in the other room, pregnant with their second child.
The baby’s pouty lips trembled as she squirmed harder, her little fists pushing against his chest. “Mama,” she whimpered, the word breaking Heeseung’s heart into pieces.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Heeseung murmured, brushing her soft hair away from her flushed face. “Mama’s just resting, baby. You’ve got me, though. Dada’s here.”
But the reassurance fell on deaf ears. She wriggled again, turning her head toward the door as if sensing you on the other side. Her chubby hands clumsily batted at Heeseung’s jaw in protest, and she let out a frustrated wail.
He sighed, adjusting her in his arms and kissing her damp cheeks. “Come on, love, don’t cry. You’re breaking Dada’s heart here.”
She wasn’t buying it.
Heeseung carried her over to her bouncy seat, gently placing her down. He shook one of the attached rattles, the soft jingle momentarily catching her attention. “Look, isn’t this fun?” he said, his voice high and playful, trying to coax a smile.
But her lower lip wobbled dangerously, and a fat tear slipped down her cheek. She reached out for him, her tiny body tensing with the beginnings of another wail.
“Okay, okay!” Heeseung scooped her up again, cradling her close. “You don’t like that. Noted.” He grabbed Mr. Flopsy, her favourite stuffed bunny, and held it before her. “Look who’s here! It’s Mr. Flopsy!”
Her chubby hand grasped the bunny’s floppy ear for a second, but her teary eyes again darted toward the bedroom door. “Mama,” she hiccupped, her voice thick with longing.
Heeseung’s shoulders slumped. He pressed his lips to her temple, his voice soft and melodic as he began humming a random tune. The notes spilled from his lips, forming an improvised lullaby, gentle and soothing. “You’re my little bunny…my sweet baby girl…”
Her cries quieted just a bit, though her sniffles lingered. She curled into his chest, burying her head in the crook of his neck. He could feel the dampness of her tears soaking into his shirt, and it made his chest tighten.
“I’m trying, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know you miss Mama. I miss her too.”
He rocked her slowly, swaying back and forth as he continued to hum. Every now and then, her little hands gripped his shirt, curling into the fabric as if anchoring herself to him.
When she let out another quiet whimper, Heeseung grabbed her teething toy and offered it to her. She gnawed on it momentarily before tossing it aside with a dissatisfied grunt.
“Mr. Flopsy’s better, huh?” Heeseung said, trying to keep his tone light despite the heaviness in his chest. He handed her the bunny again, and she hugged it to her chest this time.
But then, just as he thought she might settle, her tiny head tilted up to look at him with watery eyes. “Mama,” she whispered again, her voice so small and broken that it shattered him completely.
Heeseung closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers. “I know, baby. I know,” he said, his voice barely audible.
And when her quiet cries turned into a full-blown sob, he sank onto the couch, holding her tight and rocking her desperately.
The door creaked open, and you appeared, your face glowing with the softness of motherhood. “What’s going on here?” you asked gently, calming the room.
Your daughter’s head snapped up, and she let out a delighted cry, reaching for you with her pudgy arms. “Mama!”
Heeseung let out a breathy laugh, his eyes misty as he handed her to you. “She’s all yours,” he said softly, a tinge of defeat.
As your daughter nestled into your arms, her cries became soft hiccups. She clung to you like a lifeline, her little body finally relaxing.
Heeseung watched the two of you with a bittersweet smile. “Guess I still need to earn back my ‘Dada’ title,” he joked weakly.
You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re doing amazing, Hee,” you whispered. “She just misses me. But she loves you—you’re her world, too.”
And as Heeseung watched his little girl settle into your arms, he made a silent promise to himself: no matter how busy life got, he’d always make time for moments like these, even if it hurt sometimes. Because for his family, he’d do anything.
Heeseung leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions as he watched you sway gently with your daughter in your arms. The tension in her little body had melted away entirely, replaced by the comfort only a mother could give. It was a sight that tugged at his heartstrings in ways he couldn’t quite describe.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low but weighted with emotion.
You glanced over at him, your brows knitting together. “Sorry for what, Hee?”
“For being gone so much. For missing out on moments like this. I don’t want her to feel like I’m just some guy who shows up when it’s convenient.”
Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. You walked over to the couch, sinking beside him with your daughter still snuggled against your chest. Her eyelids were fluttering, sleep beginning to claim her.
“Hee,” you said softly, reaching to take his hand. “You’re not just ‘some guy.’ You’re her dad. And she knows you love her. Even if you can’t always be here physically, she feels it. I know she does.”
Heeseung released a shaky sigh, squeezing your hand as his gaze dropped to your daughter. Her tiny fingers were clutching the fabric of your shirt now, her breaths evening out as she drifted off.
“I just hate seeing her cry like that,” he admitted, his voice thick. “It makes me feel like I’m failing her.”
“You’re not failing her,” you reassured him firmly. “She’s just at that age where she’s clingy with me. It’s normal. But she adores you, Hee. You should’ve seen her excitement when you walked through the door today. Her whole face lit up.”
A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Really?”
“Really,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re her Dada. Her hero. And you’ll always have a special place in her heart, no matter how often you must be away.”
Heeseung exhaled slowly, his chest feeling a little lighter. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you and your sleeping daughter closer.
“I’ll try harder,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “To be here more. To make time. For both of you.”
“We know you’re doing your best,” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “But, Hee…you’re allowed to have bad days. You’re allowed to feel like this. Just don’t ever forget that we love you, okay?”
Heeseung swallowed hard, nodding as he kissed the top of your head. “I love you too,” he murmured. “Both of you.”
The room was quiet for a while, filled only with the soft sounds of your daughter’s breathing and the faint hum of the heater. Heeseung let himself soak in the moment, his heart swelling with love and longing.
“Do you think she’ll be okay with me putting her to bed tonight?” he asked after a while, his voice tentative.
You smiled, glancing down at your daughter’s peaceful face. “She’ll be more than okay. She’ll love it. You’ve just got to keep trying, Hee.”
“I will,” he said, determination lacing his tone.
As the two of you sat there, cocooned in the warmth of your little family, Heeseung realized that while being a dad might not always be easy, it was the most rewarding role he’d ever had. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Dinner was a quiet but cozy affair. The scent of your home-cooked meal wafted through the air, mingling with the warmth of being together as a family. Your daughter sat snugly in her high chair, secured with her little bib, her chubby legs kicking softly beneath the tray. She was positioned perfectly between you and Heeseung, her wide eyes darting between you as if deciding who to focus on.
You were slowly eating your food, occasionally glancing over at the baby. Her meal—a bowl of pureed carrots and sweet potatoes—was warming up on the counter alongside her milky bottle. Heeseung, seated on her other side, was shovelling spoonfuls of food into his mouth, stealing glances at his daughter between bites.
“Alright, bunny,” Heeseung said softly, setting his chopsticks down and wiping his hands with a napkin. “Let’s see if you’re ready to eat, hmm?”
Her attention immediately shifted to him as he grabbed her food and bottle. She cooed softly, a bubbly sound that made Heeseung chuckle.
“Hang on, hang on. Dada’s getting it,” he murmured, quickly testing the temperature of her meal on his wrist before sitting back down.
He scooped up a tiny spoonful of the pureed food, his movements slow and gentle. “Okay, open up, sweetheart. Like this—ahh,” he demonstrated, opening his mouth wide exaggeratedly.
Your daughter blinked at him, then turned her head toward you with a curious little noise as if checking to see if you were watching.
You smirked, taking a sip of water. “Looks like she’s waiting for my approval.”
Heeseung groaned playfully, holding the spoon closer to her mouth. “Don’t be like this, bunny. Dada’s trying here.”
She finally turned back to him, her tiny lips parting slightly. Heeseung seized the moment, quickly sliding the spoon into her mouth. She blinked in surprise but didn’t spit it out, her little face scrunching up as she adjusted to the taste.
“There we go!” Heeseung cheered softly, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
You chuckled, watching as he scooped up another spoonful. “You’re a natural, Hee. She’s warming up to you again.”
Heeseung’s grin widened, his confidence growing as he offered her another bite. But this time, instead of taking the food immediately, she let out a happy little coo and turned back to you, her arms reaching out as if trying to climb across the tray.
“Mama,” she babbled, her voice filled with excitement.
“Oh, come on,” Heeseung groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “I’m right here! Feeding you!”
You laughed, setting your fork down. “She’s just saying hi, Hee. Let her have her moment.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, but the playful glint in his gaze gave him away. “Hi? It's more like rubbing it in my face. Aren’t you, bunny?”
Your daughter cooed again as if agreeing. But this time, she turned back to Heeseung, her tiny hands slapping the tray excitedly.
“See? She’s still got Dada love in her,” you teased, taking another bite of your food.
Heeseung smiled softly, his eyes warm as he offered her another spoonful. “Yeah,” he murmured. “She’s just making me work for it.”
You watched as she leaned forward slightly, taking the food from him without hesitation this time. Her chubby cheeks wobbled as she chewed, her little noises of satisfaction making Heeseung’s smile stretch even more expansive.
“She’s a handful,” he said, glancing at you. “But she’s worth every second.”
You reached over, squeezing his free hand gently. “We both are,” you reminded him softly.
Heeseung looked at you, his expression filled with so much love it made your chest tighten. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You both are.”
As the three of you sat together, sharing this simple but meaningful moment, Heeseung felt a sense of peace settle over him. This was his family—his home. And no matter how chaotic life got, this was the love he would always return to.
As Heeseung placed the spoon back into the bowl, he noticed the familiar signs. His daughter’s little hand started to bat at the empty tray, her face scrunching as a soft whine escaped her lips.
"Uh-oh," he muttered softly, his heart immediately going into overdrive. “You finished already, huh? Just a little more, baby…”
But she wasn’t having it. The whining grew into a louder fuss, her tiny legs kicking in protest as she squirmed in her high chair, her hands urgently reaching him.
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Heeseung chuckled nervously, glancing at you for reassurance. “She’s ready for her bottle. You’re growing too fast, bunny.”
You gave him a knowing smile, wiping your mouth as you leaned back. “I think she’s done with her dinner. Time for milky.”
Heeseung didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly unbuckled her from the high chair, easily scooping her up. She nestled her head against his shoulder, her face scrunching into a tiny pout as she continued to fuss, clearly tired but craving the comfort of her bottle.
“Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Heeseung cooed softly, cradling her against his chest. His hands gently cupped the back of her head, rocking her as he made his way to the living room.
You watched the scene unfold, your heart softening at the sight of Heeseung looking so natural with his daughter in his arms. Moments like these reminded you of how deeply he loved her, even if he had his own moments of self-doubt.
Heeseung settled onto the couch, carefully adjusting your daughter in his arms. He grabbed her bottle from the coffee table with practiced hands, ensuring the milk was at the right temperature.
“Here we go, bunny,” he murmured, gently guiding the bottle to her mouth.
Your daughter’s eyes fluttered closed as she lazily latched onto the bottle, her little fingers grasping at the soft fabric of his shirt. She was still fussy, but the comfort of being held by her father and the warm bottle quickly soothed her.
“Mm…” she hummed softly, her fussing slowly fading as she began drinking. Heeseung smiled, a deep sense of relief washing over him. His eyes softened as he gazed down at her, the light from the lamps casting a warm glow over her peaceful face.
“That’s it, little one,” he whispered. “Just relax now.”
You stood from the table, walking over to sit next to him. Your hand gently brushed through his hair as you smiled at the sight. “She’s finally calming down. You’re good at this, you know?”
Heeseung chuckled, glancing over at you with a tired but content smile. “I just don’t want to mess up,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t want her to feel like she’s not important, not enough.”
You softened, your heart aching for him. “She knows she’s important, Hee. You’re her world. She’s just a little fussy sometimes. It’s normal for babies, right?”
“Yeah…” Heeseung breathed out, his gaze flickering back down to their daughter. “It’s just so hard when she’s upset. I don’t want her to feel that way around me.”
“She won’t,” you said softly, reaching out to gently rub his back. “She trusts you, Hee. You’re the one she turns to when she needs comfort.”
Heeseung sighed deeply, watching as your daughter’s little body relaxed further in his arms, the soft sounds of her sucking filling the space.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I just want to do everything I can for her.”
“She knows you’re doing your best,” you reassured him. “We all do.”
As you both sat there, watching her drift off into a peaceful slumber, the bond between father and daughter seemed to fill the room, quiet but undeniable. Heeseung may have been struggling with the weight of his responsibilities, but in that moment, as he held his baby girl in his arms, everything felt right.
You smiled, squeezing his hand. “She’ll always need you, Hee. You’re the best Dada she could have.”
Heeseung’s eyes met yours; his voice was soft and full of love. “And you’re the best mama.”
With a content sigh, he rested his head against the back of the couch, allowing the peaceful silence to wrap around the three of you. The soft sound of your daughter’s breathing filled the room, and for the first time in a while, Heeseung allowed himself to relax fully, knowing that this—this was everything.
The night had settled in, the soft hum of the house filling the silence as Heeseung carefully cradled his daughter in his arms. She had finished her bottle, her little belly full, and she seemed to be drifting off into a peaceful sleep, her small, warm body nestled against his chest. Heeseung smiled, feeling the weight of the day lift as he held her, the rhythmic sound of her breathing soothing him more than he expected.
Still, the task remained: putting her down for the night.
He hesitated momentarily, watching her delicate face, soft with sleep. Knowing how much she craved his warmth, his heart ached, but he also knew she needed to rest in her crib. He gently adjusted her in his arms, careful not to jostle her too much, and slowly made his way to her nursery.
As he reached the crib and carefully lowered her, her little face scrunched up instantly. Her tiny hands reached out, gripping at his shirt desperately as she whimpered softly, a frown pulling at her lips.
“No, no, baby, it’s okay,” Heeseung murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to sleep in your crib, okay? Dada’s right here…”
But his reassurances didn’t seem to work. The moment he pulled away, her tiny body tensed, her face scrunching as she let out a pitiful cry. Her little hands stretched out to him, her eyes filled with frustration and confusion.
Heeseung felt his chest tighten at the sound. He couldn’t bear to see her upset.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered to himself, his voice soft but firm as he scooped her back into his arms, holding her close. “I’ll let you sleep with me for a little longer. But you’ve got to sleep, okay, bunny?”
Immediately, her cries quieted as she was lifted back into his embrace. Her small, warm body melted back against his chest, her face instinctively snuggling into the crook of his neck.
“You just want your Dada, huh?” Heeseung whispered, his heart racing as he carefully rocked her back and forth. Her soft, even breaths against his skin told him all he needed to know. She was calm now, content with the warmth of his chest and his heartbeat's steady rhythm.
Heeseung’s heart swelled, knowing how much she craved the comfort only he could provide. He wasn’t sure if it was his warmth or the familiarity of his scent, but she always seemed to seek him out in those moments of need.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, brushing his nose against her soft hair. “I’ll stay right here. You’re safe with me.”
He walked around the room slowly, letting her snuggle deeper into him. His own body felt the pull of exhaustion, the weight of his daughter in his arms grounding him to the present.
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try again,” he whispered, his voice soft and affectionate. “But for tonight… you, mama, and me, okay? Just us.”
She cooed, her tiny hands curling around the fabric of his shirt as she snuggled deeper, her face hidden against him. The smell of milk and baby lotion lingered on her skin, and Heeseung closed his eyes for a moment, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over him.
As he gently rocked her, his thoughts drifted back to the chaos of his idol life, the long hours and the never-ending demands. But at that moment, with his daughter tucked safely in his arms, Heeseung couldn’t imagine a perfect place to be.
He sat on the rocking chair in the nursery, his daughter still nestled against him, and allowed himself to relax fully. This was his world now. And no matter how busy life got, he knew that the feel of her tiny body in his arms and her breath's softness against his chest was worth every second.
As she slowly drifted off to sleep, her tiny body curled against his warmth, Heeseung realized he would never take these moments for granted. Even when the world felt overwhelming, this little family—his family—was the home he had always craved.
As Heeseung gently rocked her in his arms, a sudden, soft sound interrupted the quiet of the nursery.
💨
His eyebrows shot up, and his lips twitched as he tried to suppress a laugh.
Another one followed.
💨 💨
“Oh, no…” Heeseung muttered under his breath, though the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “You’re relaxed now, huh, bunny?”
His daughter let out a content sigh, utterly unaware of the symphony of sleepy farts escaping her. She snuggled deeper into his chest, her tiny hand gripping his shirt as if to say, I’m not done using you as a pillow yet, Dada.
💨 💨 💨
Heeseung blinked, now fully laughing under his breath. “Okay, that was a loud one,” he said softly, glancing down at her with wide eyes. “You went all in, didn’t you?”
She stirred slightly, letting out a small, sleepy whimper, but quickly settled again as he patted her back.
“Don’t worry, bunny,” Heeseung whispered, his voice laced with amusement. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if you’re out here clearing the room.”
The telltale smell started to waft up, and Heeseung winced, his nose crinkling as he realized what he was in for.
“Oh, I knew it,” he groaned quietly, though his heart softened as he looked down at her. “You didn’t just fall asleep; you went all the way, huh? Dada’s got a full cleanup waiting for him now.”
He sat there momentarily, contemplating whether to wake her to change her diaper or wait until she was in a deeper sleep. But when she shifted in his arms, letting out one final 💨 and settling again peacefully, Heeseung sighed too, shaking his head.
“Alright, bunny,” he murmured. “We’ll wait a few more minutes. I’m letting you rest but after this? You and I are taking a trip to the changing table.”
He leaned back in the rocking chair, letting her stay snuggled against him for a bit longer. Despite the impending diaper duty, he couldn’t help but smile. These moments—messy, funny, and heartwarming—made it all worthwhile.
As she let out another soft sigh against his chest, Heeseung closed his eyes, enjoying the calm before the (diaper) storm.
Heeseung carefully laid her down on the changing table, his hands moving with practiced ease as he reached for the supplies—a clean diaper, baby wipes, and a fresh onesie.
“Alright, bunny,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her forehead as she let out a tiny, sleepy coo. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re going to feel so much better after this.”
She blinked at him, her eyes fluttering open momentarily before she let out a little sigh, completely trusting her dada to take care of her.
As Heeseung undid her soiled diaper, she squirmed slightly, her chubby arms stretching upward to remind him, Hey, I’m still here.
“I know, I know,” he chuckled, grabbing a baby wipe and getting to work. “Just hang in there, princess. Dada’s almost done.”
She let out another soft coo, her lips puckering as if she were trying to protest but was too sleepy to commit to it.
Once her bottom was clean, Heeseung swiftly placed the fresh diaper under her, securing it snugly around her waist.
“There we go,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her tummy. “Nice and fresh. Just one more step, bunny—your onesie.”
He grabbed the soft, pastel-coloured onesie with little bunnies printed on it—her favourite, or so he liked to believe. He gently slid it under her, guiding her arms into the sleeves without much trouble. But the moment he reached for her chunky legs, the real challenge began.
She kicked out, her legs moving like tiny pistons as he tried to guide them into the leg sleeves.
“Whoa, okay, I get it!” Heeseung said, laughing under his breath. “You’re not a fan of bedtime fashion, huh?”
But she wasn’t listening. Her little legs continued to kick, her toes wiggling defiantly as if she were making it her mission to keep him from completing his task.
“Alright, little ninja,” he muttered, gently but firmly grabbing one of her legs. “You’ve left me no choice.”
He managed to slip one chubby leg into the sleeve, grinning triumphantly. “Gotcha! One down, one to go.”
But as he reached for her other leg, she wiggled even more, letting out a determined squeal that made him laugh even harder.
“You’re not making this easy, bunny,” Heeseung said, shaking his head as he caught her other leg. “But Dada always wins. Remember that.”
With one swift motion, he guided her second leg into the sleeve, finally zipping up the onesie and securing it. He sat back with a dramatic sigh, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead.
“There,” he said, looking down at her with a playful grin. “All done. You fought hard, but I’m still undefeated.”
She stared up at him, her big, sleepy eyes wide with curiosity. And then, as if to reward him for his efforts, she let out a soft, gurgling giggle, her tiny hands reaching up toward his face.
“Oh, now you’re laughing?” Heeseung teased, scooping her into his arms and pressing a flurry of kisses to her chubby cheeks. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
She let out another happy coo, snuggling into his chest as her little body relaxed again.
“Time for bed, bunny,” he whispered, swaying gently as he carried her back toward the rocking chair. “No more kicking, okay? Dada needs a break.”
As he settled back into the chair, her soft breaths began to slow, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. Heeseung let out a content sigh, feeling the day's weight fade away as she drifted off in his arms again.
And even though his body was tired and his mind was worn, he couldn’t help but smile. Because in moments like this, with his baby girl tucked safely against him, everything felt exactly as it should be.
Heeseung stood in front of her crib, swaying gently with her in his arms. His mind was already weighing the risks of another attempt to lay her down. She was so peaceful now, her little face pressed into his chest, her tiny breaths warm against his neck. He could feel the slight rise and fall of her belly and hear her soft sighs as she snuggled closer.
“Alright, bunny,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was barely audible. “This is the last try, okay? You’ve got to sleep in your bed tonight. Dada needs some rest, too.”
With painstaking care, he began lowering her toward the crib. He had it all planned: gently settle her down, pull away slowly, and tiptoe out like a stealth ninja. But the moment her back touched the mattress, her tiny body tensed.
Her eyes didn’t even open; instead, she let out a whimper and immediately clutched at his shirt, her little fingers curling into the fabric with surprising strength. Her face scrunched up in protest, her lip quivering, and Heeseung froze.
“Bunny…” he started, but it was too late. A soft, pitiful cry escaped her, her tiny fists tightening their grip on his shirt as if to say, You’re not leaving me, Dada.
Heeseung sighed, defeated, gently pulling her back into his arms. Her cries stopped instantly, and she melted into him like butter, her little head tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck.
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” he murmured, kissing her soft hair. “You just want to stay glued to Dada all night.”
She responded with a sleepy coo, her tiny hand patting his chest to reassure him, Yes, exactly that.
Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head as he walked toward your shared bedroom. “Looks like I’m out of options. Oh well, bunny. Hope mama has some space for you in the bed.”
He nudged the door quietly, finding you sprawled out on your side, fast asleep. The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the room in a warm light, and Heeseung smiled at the sight of you, your peaceful expression a stark contrast to the chaos he’d been juggling all evening.
He approached the bed carefully, cradling your velcro baby in one arm while pulling back the blanket with the other. He climbed in slowly, settling beside you as he adjusted the baby between you.
“Alright, bunny,” he whispered, stroking her back as she snuggled closer to his chest. “Looks like it’s a family sleepover tonight.”
She let out a soft sigh, her tiny hand curling around his thumb as she finally fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Heeseung looked over at you, watching how your chest rose and fell with steady breaths, and he felt a wave of calm wash over him. It didn’t matter how exhausting or unpredictable the day had been—this was his happiness.
As his eyelids grew heavy, he leaned over to kiss your forehead gently, then one to the top of his baby girl’s head.
“Goodnight, my girls,” he whispered, letting himself finally relax, the weight of his world safely nestled on either side of him.
And with that, the three of you drifted off into the kind of sleep only a family wrapped in love could find.
Heeseung waited a little longer, his arm cradling her securely as her tiny body grew heavier and heavier with sleep. Her breathing slowed to that soft, rhythmic hum that told him she was finally in a deep slumber. Her little hand, which had been clutching his shirt moments ago, now lay limp against his chest.
“Okay, bunny,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Let’s try this one last time.”
With careful precision, he shifted her in his arms, her head resting against his palm as he gently leaned over to place her in the baby bassinet cushion crib nestled between you two. He kept his movements slow as if the slightest noise or jolt might undo all the effort it had taken to get her to this peaceful state.
Finally, she settled into the soft bedding, her tiny body curling slightly as he adjusted her position for comfort. Heeseung crouched beside her momentarily, watching to see if she would stir, but she didn’t. Instead, her mouth opened slightly, as it always did when wholly relaxed.
He smiled softly, reaching for her pacifier on the bedside table. He gently slipped it into her mouth, watching as she instinctively began to suckle, the motion soothing even in her sleep.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his tender voice almost cracked.
Next, he grabbed her little blankie—the one she always needed to sleep with—and tucked it snugly around her, ensuring it wasn’t too tight. Her favourite stuffed bunny, Mr. Flopsy, was placed right next to her, its floppy ears brushing her tiny hand.
“There you go, bunny,” Heeseung whispered, brushing a finger lightly over her soft cheek. “All warm and cozy now. Sweet dreams.”
Satisfied, he eased himself back into bed, careful not to make sudden movements. He glanced at you, still fast asleep, and sighed a sigh of relief.
Finally, as he lay on his back, his head sinking into the pillow, he allowed himself a moment to breathe. The sight of your baby girl, peaceful and safe in her little bassinet between you, made all the day's exhaustion disappear.
He reached over to lightly brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment before he whispered, “She’s finally asleep. You’ve got some competition, though—she might love my chest more than you.”
He chuckled softly before closing his eyes, his hand resting protectively near the bassinet. As the three of you shared the quiet, serene night, Heeseung drifted off with a smile and a whole heart.
The room was still and quiet, save for the gentle hum of the nightlight and the soft, rhythmic breaths coming from your baby girl. Heeseung’s arm instinctively stretched out to rest near her bassinet, like a protection barrier in his half-asleep state.
Minutes passed, and the peacefulness lulled him into a light sleep. But just as he began to drift deeper, a tiny sound pulled him back—a soft, muffled whimper.
His eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head toward the bassinet. Your baby had shifted slightly in her sleep, her pacifier slipping from her mouth. Her tiny face scrunched up, her lips forming the beginnings of a cry.
Heeseung sighed, already moving before the first sound could escape.
“Shhh, bunny, it’s okay,” he whispered, leaning over and gently popping the pacifier back in place. Her face relaxed almost immediately, and she let out a small, contented sigh.
Heeseung smiled tiredly, his hand resting lightly on her belly to reassure her. “You’ve got Dada wrapped around your little finger, you know that?” he murmured.
Settling back down, Heeseung cast a glance at you. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, your exhaustion keeping you in a deep sleep. He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he looked back at his daughter.
“Just you and me again, huh?” he said under his breath, though his words were warm. “I guess you’re my alarm clock for the night.”
He lay back down but kept his eyes on her for a while longer, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her little hand clutched Mr. Flopsy even in her sleep.
And then, almost as if she could sense his gaze, she let out another tiny, sleepy coo, her head turning slightly toward his side of the bed.
Heeseung couldn’t help but smile, the kind of smile from the deepest part of his heart. He leaned over one last time, kissing her forehead softly.
“Goodnight, bunny,” he whispered. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
This time, when he lay back, sleep came easier. And as the quiet night stretched on, the three of you rested together—ideally in sync, perfectly complete.
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred awake slowly, the cozy quiet of the morning wrapping around you like a blanket. Blinking a few times, you turned your head and saw a sight that swelled your heart.
Heeseung was fast asleep; his face turned toward the bassinet, his lips slightly parted in soft breaths. One arm was stretched protectively toward your baby, while the other was tucked under his head. The faintest shadow of exhaustion lingered on his features, but even in sleep, he looked peaceful.
You smiled softly, your gaze drifting to the bassinet. Your baby girl started to stir, her little legs kicking lightly under the blanket. Her pacifier bobbed as her mouth moved slightly, and you could tell she was moments away from waking fully.
Leaning over, you gently touched her chest, hoping to soothe her for a moment longer so Heeseung could rest. “Good morning, bunny,” you whispered, your voice full of love.
Her little eyes fluttered open, blinking against the soft light. She yawned, her arms stretching above her head in that adorably dramatic way she always did. You couldn’t help but smile at her sleepy antics.
“Did you keep Dada busy all night?” you asked softly, brushing a finger across her chubby cheek. She cooed in response, her eyes still half-lidded with sleep as she focused on you.
Carefully, you lifted her from the bassinet, cradling her against your chest. She was warm and soft, her tiny body curling into you as you rocked her gently. You glanced back at Heeseung, still sound asleep, and your heart ached at how hard he’d worked to care for her overnight.
“You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know,” you murmured to her, your lips brushing the top of her head.
She let out another small coo, her tiny hand reaching up to grab your shirt. You held her close, swaying gently as you moved to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.
For a while, you just sat there, holding her and watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Heeseung’s chest. It was a peaceful, perfect moment—the three of you together, wrapped in the quiet love of your little family.
As your baby girl started to wiggle, signalling her readiness for the day, Heeseung groaned softly, his head turning slightly on the pillow. His eyes cracked open, squinting in the morning light.
“Morning,” he murmured sleepily, his voice rough but warm. His gaze landed on you and the baby, and despite the fatigue in his eyes, a smile tugged at his lips.
“Good morning,” you whispered, your voice soft to not startle the baby. “She’s just waking up. You can sleep a little more if you want.”
Heeseung shook his head, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Nah, I’m up,” he said, his voice still laced with sleep. He reached out, his hand brushing over your baby’s tiny foot. “How’s my bunny this morning?”
She turned her head toward him at his voice, letting out a happy coo. He chuckled, exhaustion melting away as he leaned over to kiss her forehead.
“Looks like she’s ready for round two,” he said with a grin, sitting up fully. “What about you, Mama? You okay? Is our second bunny kicking too much?”
You nodded, your heart full as you watched him interact with her. “I’m good. Our bunnies can't wait to meet each other, hehe. She’s lucky to have you, you know.”
Heeseung looked at you, his eyes soft. “We’re both lucky,” he said, his voice sincere.
And as the morning unfolded, filled with tiny giggles, warm cuddles, and sleepy smiles, you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest family in the world.
this wasn’t in the script ? — heeseung lee oneshot
summary. despite being in a public relationship for 3 years, both of you were private about it. after years of interrogations by fans, media and even your friends, you both decide to go live for a Q&A session, breaking the silence.
pairings. celeb!heeseung x celeb!reader
content / warnings. just tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, nicknames (baby), they get sentimental, hee is a FLIRT, mentions of the industry and it’s downsides, they’re in love your honor, slightly suggestive in one question but nothing much.
w.c. 1.3k
You adjust the camera with careful hands, trying to ignore the way your heart won’t settle, even after all this time.
The frame shifts slightly before you fix it, exhaling softly as the silence stretches between you and Heeseung.
“We’re really doing this, huh?” you say, half-laughing, half-hoping he’ll say no—but when you turn, he’s already looking at you, steady and certain, like he decided long before you did.
“We said we would,” he replies quietly, voice steady in a way yours isn’t. He took your hand in his, before kissing it. “I’m right beside you, baby.”
You swallow, nodding once, more to yourself than to him, before reaching forward again. Your finger hovers over the screen for a second too long.
Three years of dodging questions.
Three years of silence. Of subtle hints.
And now… this.
“Okay,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, before pressing the button.
The screen flickers.
For a split second, it’s just the two of you—unchanged, unseen.
Then, YOU ARE LIVE! shows up on the screen.
Numbers begin climbing faster than you expected. Comments flood in almost instantly, too quick to read, too loud even in their silence.
“Hi everyone,” Heeseung starts first, his voice calm and grounding, but you could feel the excitement in it.
welovetheace: WOAH THIS NEW
dialtragedy2790: wait i’m scared r they announcing a pregnancy?
You choked on your saliva at that. “What—No! No pregnancy announcement,” You reply with a huff in which he just laughs at.
“We’re here today because…” He looks at you, smiling before turning to the camera again. “…We want to talk about us. Answer questions and reveal things we never did over the past few years.”
“That’s right, I know all of you are dying to know—we went public three years ago, but that’s just it. Just an official statement from our agency and that’s basically it.”
You laugh, “Some of you even accused us of being a PR stunt!” narrowing your eyes at the screen while Heeseung smirks.
“Not so PR stunt if I kiss you right here, no?”
ynlover: oh here mr flirtypants go
heedagoat: she’s stronger than me i would’ve died
hevanly: the way you can tell she’s used to his bs 😭😭
You clear your throat as you change the topic.
“So, I told you guys to ask me some questions about our relationship on Instagram and to say the least, we were entertained by your questions!”
You smile at the screen, your hand ready with your phone full of questions—some picked by you, some Heeseung and of course, filtered by the assistance of your dedicated Manager, Jen.
“Let’s just get into it, then?” He looks at you, gaze loving.
lovestrucked2508: he is looking at her like she’s his whole world… I’m sick.
———
“The first question—What’s something fans were right about—but you never confirmed?” You read, Heeseung hums.
“Oh! That we were already dating during that award show, remember?” He grins at you,
“The one that you wouldn’t stop staring at me?” You scoff, he nonchalantly shrugs.
“In my defense, that dress? With the split? You were killing me, baby.” He holds his heart, as if you are actually assassinating him.
You can already imagine what the comments are like.
“Oh stop it, you were not helping it. Even other celebs were suspecting it that time!” You laugh.
number1ace: WE WERE NOT CRAZY AFTER ALL
You read another question, “Who gets sulky more easily?”
“Heeseung.”
“Y/N.”
You gasp, mock-offense. “You do! I literally have to put up with your little pout every time I say no!” Your finger boop said pout he’s forming right now.
“Well, I can’t help it. That’s just how my lips are. Besides, what type of girlfriend refuses her boyfriend’s cuddles?”
“The type that has schedules to attend, and not stuck in bed with you all day!”
He pouts.
jujuprincess: THAT POUT omg she’s so strong to deny him
“Okay, moving on!” He reads. “How did going public affect your relationship emotionally?”
He thinks of a second, before answering.
“To be completely honest, nothing. Both Y/N and I are aware that once we go public, the lack of privacy, interrogations, people over analyzing our actions and words— are a given,” He turns his attention to me. “I guess, we’re both mentally strong people?” He chuckles.
“Because while yes, the world knows us as each other’s person, but the moments that we kept to ourselves? That’s what ground us as a couple. Because the Y/N off screen is for my eyes only, and that made me feel like…nothing really changes.”
You smile at his sentimental answer, while agreeing with him.
“What’s your ‘normal date’ actually like?” He reads another one.
“It’s our favourite, actually. Locking our doors and spend the whole day sleeping,” I chuckled.
“While hugging each other, of course.” He laughs, “We both have demanding schedules, so when we’re tired and have eachother? Y/N becomes my teddy bear.”
You roll your eyes, faux annoyed. “His grip—God—It’s like he has magnets in him.”
“But I never see you complaining.” He winks at you.
f4taltroubl3: why is she calmer than me and I’m not even in the relationship
The questions continue, some light-hearted and funny, some headliner-worthy you could feel your manager stressing out as she monitors your live from her screen.
“What’s a moment where you felt proud of each other as artist?” You read, and immediately answer.
“Uhm, while I am proud for all the awards he achieved…what makes me even prouder of him is that his tendency to stay commited to his intentions. By his side, you can really see how much hardship he went through.” You continued.
“However, through it all—his mindset never wavered, and that’s so significant in this fabricated and chaotic industry. As a fellow artist, I respect him so much. As a lover, I’m so proud of him.” I held his hand, and smile.
Heeseung’s breath hitches as he stares at you answering.
“That means so much to me, baby.” He says, voice soft enough it passes as a whisper only you hear.
LHS1COMINGSOON: the way u can tell they protected this relationship a lot, oh my heart.
He reads another one: “When was a moment you felt ‘this is my person’?”
He smiles before answering, “Before her, I’m someone who avoids talking to people or in general shut myself out from the world when things get tough, and then get back on track myself. But…when we started dating, I realised instead of wanting solitary, I crave her. In my silence, I search for her. She grounds me even more that past me can do it myself.” He chuckles.
“Loving Y/N is so easy. You just can’t not fall in love with her.” He kisses your hand again, and you feel your face heating up, as well as the lump in your throat forming.
“Tch, what a sap.” You smile, blinking quickly to avoid tearing up.
He just grin at that.
beliftlabdestroyer: The way they talk about each other is so gentle
heeseung4life: No wonder he fell for her
“Who is more affectionate in private?” You scoff, “I fear this is obvious, you guys.”
Heeseung looks at you, before smirking.
“Oh really now?” His hand creeping up your inner thigh.
“Yup.”
“But the last time I checked, it wasn’t me who was on their knees last n—”
“Okay—! Next question.” You glare at him, “Have you talked about your future seriously?”
Heeseung hums, “Future…” He shrugs. “Both of us really hold onto the concept of Carpe Diem, but…” He tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“I’m so sure we’re each other’s future too. Maybe a family of our own?” He smiles.
You grin, “Well—that’s a given. But, too early to talk about that.”
gojosatoruineedthatdih: wait lowkey imagined a kid with both of their genes….we’re not ready
After the last question fades and the comments slow just enough to breathe, you glance at Heeseung, unsure who’s supposed to end it. For a moment, neither of you speaks—until he quietly thanks the viewers, his voice softer than it’s been the entire time.
“Thank you for supporting us,” you add, voice steadier than you expected.
You reach for the screen to end the live—
—but he stops you. Just for a second.
Not dramatic. Not obvious.
Just enough to gently intertwine his fingers with yours and kiss your temple.
there may be ups and downs, but you would still always be their noona.
w.c.: 16k
themes: sfw, cursing, humor, arguments, hurt, reader and jungwon have a fight, reader is enha's 8th female member, the enha boys can be in any age range you want but just imagine you're around the same age as the jaykehoon trio
note: i'm half happy with how this came out. check out my other works! (masterlist). absolutely NO plagiarizing my work
when someone asks you what it's like having heeseung as an oppa, you never really have to think about it. the answer comes easily, like it's been sitting in your chest waiting to be said. you always tell them he’'s reliable, that he's the kind of person who notices when you're being overwhelmed before you even say anything, and that whenever the others start teasing you a little too much or bothering you just to see your reactions, heeseung is always there to swoop in and save the day. you tell them he has this calm presence, like the eye of a storm, and that standing next to him makes you feel a little safer, a little steadier, like he'll have your back no matter what happens.
when someone asks you what it's like being the youngest in the same age line as jay, jake, and sunghoon, you usually give a little unhinged laugh first, a little like you've been through something. you tell them you've probably been traumatised enough for life, that living with those three feels like being trapped in a reality show where 'no rules' is the only rule, and then you follow it up with a half-serious, half-dramatic "alas, i still love them" or sometimes even a "help me call the police" just to make them laugh. and honestly, you mean both.
but when someone asks you what it's like being a noona to the three youngest members of enhypen, you always pause just for a few seconds longer because that question hits different.
you find yourself staring off somewhere, maybe at the floor or the wall or your own hands, because how are you supposed to explain something that feels so soft and so loud at the same time? how do you put into words the way sunoo is always there to cheer you up, the way jungwon looks at you like you're someone he trusts with his whole heart, the way ni-ki acts like he doesn't care but somehow always ends up right by your side?
as crazy as they can be, just like their hyungs, you're proud to say they're your babies. your boys. and nothing in this world could ever make you love them any less than you how love the older members. if anything, being their noona makes your heart stretch in a different way making it ache and warm all at once.
to you, you are their one and only favourite and only noona in the group, and you say that with your whole chest. they might tease you, they might drive you insane, but they're so openly affectionate and caring that anyone who says otherwise is lying. sunoo clings to you like it's second nature, jungwon listens to you like every word you say matters, and ni-ki, despite all his nonchalantness, always finds a way to show that he cares.
so eventually, when people keep pressing for an answer, you smile and tell them the truth.
you tell them they're your babies. little boys who love towering over you just to make a point, who give you migraines with their endless energy, who whine into your ears every five seconds about something ridiculous or dramatic or both. little boys who poke at you, tease you, and look at you with mischievous grins like they know exactly how much power they have over you. because according to them, who else are they supposed to lovingly tease?
you may have your ups and downs with them, but at the end of the day you always know how much you mean to each other in ways that don't need to be said out loud. it's in the way they look for you in a room, in the way they call your name when something goes wrong, in the way they still come running to you even when they're pretending they don't need you.
nothing is worth more than your friendships with them.
not the fame, not the noise, not the hecticness that comes with being who you all are. because when everything else falls away, it's still you and them, still your laughter echoing through the dorm, still their voices whining and teasing and yelling "noona!" like it's the most important word they know. and you wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.
you were tucked into one of the corners of the practice room, the cool wooden floor pressing against your palms as you stretched your legs out wide in front of you. you leaned forward slowly, reaching for your toes, feeling the familiar pull along your thighs as you tried to warm your body up for the intense dance practice that was about to begin. the mirrors reflected everything back at you, the bright lights overhead, the scuffed floor, and all of the boys scattered across the room.
some of them were still stretching, quietly focused, while others were already goofing around, laughing and nudging each other like they always did before practice officially started. their voices filled the space in a way that was comforting but also a little overwhelming, especially with the way your thoughts were spiralling today.
you were nervous.
yesterday's practice had been rough, at least in your head. the choreography had been tricky, full of sharp transitions and fast footwork, and even though everyone had made mistakes, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were the only one really struggling. you remembered the way your feet hesitated, the way your mind blanked out on certain counts, and how you had fallen just a little out of sync more than once. the choreography teacher had reassured you, telling you it was fine, that everyone was learning and messing up, but insecurities have a way of ignoring logic.
you reached a little farther toward your toes, a small frown on your face as you held the stretch. you didn't want to be the reason practice slowed down today, nor did you want to be the one holding everyone back, and the idea of it made your chest feel heavy, like there was something pressing down on you from the inside.
you glanced around the room, watching the others move so easily, so confidently, and that familiar thought crept in again, quiet but cruel.
you let out a small breath, trying to shake it off, but it clung to you anyway, settling somewhere deep in your mind.
curse your insecurities, you thought bitterly.
as you were leaning up from your stretching position still distracted by your own thoughts, you suddenly felt something lightly flick your forehead. you blinked in surprise at the sharp little sensation and looked up, only to find ni-ki standing right in front of you. his hands were tucked lazily into the pockets of his loose sweatpants, his hoodie pulled over his head in that way that always made him look a little too comfortable, a little too mischievous. he tilted his head as he looked down at you, eyes curious in that relaxed, observant way of his.
"what's with that ugly frown?" he asked, voice casual but teasing.
you scoffed, immediately looking away as you brought a hand up to rub your forehead, more to hide yourself than anything else as you continued stretching. "i'm not frowning." you muttered under your breath, stubborn and quiet.
ni-ki didn't move. he just stayed there, standing over you watching. after a moment he pulled one hand out of his pocket and gently tugged at your hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to get your attention. "you were frowning. don't lie."
you swatted his hand away, choosing to ignore him even though now the frown on your face was obvious. you were too worried, too lost in your own head to even try hiding it anymore.
ni-ki studied you for a few more seconds, his gaze lingering on your face before he moved. you watched him step around and come to stand directly in front of you, nudging your legs a wider apart with his foot and then lowering himself down onto the floor, sitting right in front of you and opening his legs to mirror your stretching position.
he held his hands out toward you, palms open and waiting.
you looked at him warily before letting out a small reserved sigh. you reached forward and took his hands, letting him pull you gently closer so you could continue stretching, even though what he was really doing was pulling you back out of your own head, just a little.
for a few minutes the two of you stayed like that, quietly helping each other stretch. you took turns leaning back and pulling each other forward by the hands, the slow rhythm of it almost calming, like a small routine that existed just between you. the sounds of the rest of the room faded into the background, the laughter and footsteps and music tests becoming distant, replaced by the steady feeling of ni-ki's grip and the gentle pull in your muscles.
the maknae's eyes never left your face. he watched you carefully, the way your brows stayed knit together, the way your lips were pressed into a thin line, and the way you didn't look up even once. meanwhile, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground in front of you, staring at the floor like it held all the answers, trying not to think too hard about everything weighing on your mind.
it was quiet between you, but it wasn't empty. it was full of all the things you weren't saying.
after a few more silent stretches, ni-ki finally spoke up, his tone light but pointed. "are you gonna let that frown pay rent on your face or what?"
you immediately let go of his hands and shot him a glare, your eyes finally lifting to meet his. "i'm not in the mood right now." you muttered lowly, irritation slipping into your voice.
he only smiled at you, wide and a little smug, clearly pleased that he'd finally gotten you to look at him. he nudged one of his stretched-out feet against yours and leaned forward, crossing his arms loosely over his knees. his voice dropped, softer now, more serious as he called out to you. "noona, what's wrong?"
your furrowed brows slowly relaxed, the tension in your face easing just a little as you looked away from him. your eyes drifted to where sunghoon had sunoo trapped in a loose chokehold a few feet away, sunoo loudly yelling curses and struggling while jungwon laughed nearby, a dramatic and familiar scene.
you finally let your shoulders slump. "i'm just… nervous about messing up today's practice."
he glanced back at the others before returning his attention to you, his eyes sharp and observant like they always were, and sometimes you really couldn't tell if that was a blessing or a curse. "what do you mean?"
you shrugged, looking down at the space between the two of you again, fiddling with your fingers. "i dunno. i just… really sucked at practice yesterday. 'm scared today's gonna be the same and we're gonna fall behind 'cause of me…"
you looked up briefly and saw the confused look on his face. "noona, we all were messing up yesterday."
"yeah," you replied quietly, "but, i was a bit more…"
ni-ki shook his head as you trailed off, leaning forward just to flick your forehead again. you yelped, instantly bringing a hand up. "stop that."
"listen," he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. "it's practice. it's okay if you mess up. that's literally why we have it in the first place. and honestly i'm kind of relieved you forgot, but you seem to be forgetting that i literally tripped and fell on my ass yesterday. totally uncool, i know."
his lips twitched with a small grin before he continued, eyes steady on yours. "but you gotta stop thinking about yourself like that. none of us think you did worse than us or anything. i mean, look at me. i'm a dancing machine, but i didn't just become that in one day, right?"
you didn't answer him. instead, you just kept frowning at the floor, staring down at the wooden panels like they were somehow responsible for how you were feeling. ni-ki noticed and a soft laugh slipped out of him at the sight.
"sigh, so stubborn." he tutted.
he was already moving before you had any ideas of deepening your frown, stepping around to stand behind you and suddenly feeling his hands slide underneath your arms, and with an effortless lift, he pulled you up off the floor. "hey—" you started surprised, but he was already setting you back down on your feet.
he moved to stand beside you and slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him, a familiar action. you could feel the warmth of him there, solid and grounding, and it made it harder to stay curled up inside your own worries.
"come onnnnn noona." he said, poking at your cheek, then your side, then your arm, clearly determined. "smile. you look scary like this."
you tried to stay serious, but he kept prodding and nudging you, teasing you in that annoying affectionate way that only he could get away with. you finally caved when he nudged his hips against yours, the unexpected contact making you stumble just a little. "hey." but he was already grinning.
"if you're really that worried," he said, voice lighter now, "i'll help you with the moves today."
you turned your head to give him a slow side-eye, suspicion written all over your face. "hmm? no ulterior motive behind your oh-so-generous offer?"
ni-ki snorted, stepping in front of you and throwing his arms wide like he was presenting himself on a stage. "i'm always this nice." he declares.
you rolled your eyes and bumped your shoulder into his, shoving him playfully. "alright... thanks." the heaviness in your chest slowly making its way for something that relaxes your nerves.
not long after, the dance instructor finally walked in, clapping their hands together to get everyone's attention, and the room quickly shifted from playful chaos to focused energy. you and ni-ki still found little moments to poke and tease each other in between, quiet whispers and small nudges that made it easier to breathe through the nerves.
whenever you came across a move that felt just a little too fast or a little too complicated, ni-ki would immediately step in. he'd move beside you, mirroring your steps, gently correcting the angle of your arm or the timing of your foot with soft words and quick demonstrations. he never made you feel stupid for asking, never made a big deal out of it, just guided you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
slowly, without you even really realising it, your confidence started to grow. the more you practiced, the less your body hesitated, and the more the choreography began to flow. by the time the session was coming to an end, you found yourself hitting the moves cleanly, your muscles remembering what your mind had been so afraid to forget. when the instructor nodded in approval, something warm bloomed in your chest.
later, as everyone packed up their bags and headed back toward the van, you found yourself walking alongside ni-ki. the air was cooler now, the day winding down, and the nerves you’d started with felt so far away.
you glanced at him shyly before looking back at your feet. "hey… thanks again for helping me today."
he smirked at you in response, not even slowing down as he suddenly pulled you into a loose headlock. you yelped, hands immediately flying up to try and pry him off, while his laughter rang out loud and clear, mixing with your whining.
"don't mention it noona."
you and sunoo lay side by side on his bed, shoulders barely brushing, the soft hum of the dorm settling into the background around you. the lights were dimmed, his lamp casting a gentle glow across the ceiling, and both of you had fresh face masks carefully smoothed onto your skin — ones he had proudly announced he bought just for the two of you.
"limited edition." he had said earlier, dramatically waving the packet in your face. "only for people with elite visuals."
now you both lay flat on your backs above the covers, hands resting on your stomachs, staring up at the ceiling like you were contemplating the universe instead of waiting for skincare to soak in. the air smelled faintly of whatever floral essence the masks were infused with.
"okay." sunoo suddenly said, voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. "who's most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse?"
you didn't even hesitate. "ni-ki."
sunoo turned his head slightly toward you. "what? why?"
"he's fast. and scary. and he wouldn't hesitate to trip one of you to save himself."
sunoo gasped. "he would not."
you turned your head to look at him, laughing. "he absolutely would."
he burst into laughter, the sound muffled slightly by the mask. "okay, fine. but who's most likely to get caught first?"
you hummed thoughtfully. "jake."
"i totally agree."
"he'd try to make friends with the zombies."
sunoo laughed so hard the bed shook slightly beneath you. "he would. he'd be like, 'guys maybe they're misunderstood.'"
you giggled quietly, the sound softer now as the late hour began wrapping around you.
"who's most likely to cry during a horror movie?" he asked next.
you both answered at the same time.
"you." "you."
sunoo turned to scoff at you. "how dare you noona."
you smiled innocently at the ceiling. "you literally scream when someone knocks on the door too loudly."
"no i don't." he grumbled. "anyways... who's most likely to get married first?"
"jay." you answer confidentally.
sunoo hummed in agreement. "he gives stable husband energy."
"he does." you said solemnly.
the 'who's most likely to' slowly dissolves into completely random made-up scenarios, both of you staring at the ceiling like you're scripting a whole alternate universe for the group.
"okay." sunoo says suddenly, voice soft but dramatic as always, "imagine we're stranded on a deserted island. who becomes leader?"
"jungwon." you answer instantly. "he'd pretend he doesn't want it but then start assigning tasks."
sunoo snorts. "jay would argue about it."
"jay would absolutely argue about it." you agree. "he'd start building something out of bamboo just to prove he's capable."
"jake would try to comfort everyone." sunoo adds. "like 'guys it's okay, we'll make the best of it.'"
you grin. "sunghoon would just sit on a rock looking annoyed."
"he'd say the sand is ruining his shoes."
you both giggle.
"heeseng," sunoo continues, "would quietly collect coconuts and somehow be the most productive."
you hum. "and ni-ki would climb the tallest tree for no reason. and then refuse to come down and then complain that no one appreciates his survival skills."
sunoo laughs so hard he has to press a hand to his stomach.
there's a pause before he speaks again.
"okay, imagine we're in high school."
you groan lightly. "we are not doing this."
"we are absolutely doing this."
you sigh dramatically but comply anyway. "fine. jungwon is class president."
"obviously."
"jay would be in the debate club and would take it too seriously. heeseung is that quiet top student who doesn't even try but gets full marks."
sunoo nods enthusiastically. "sunghoon is the popular senior everyone's intimidated by. but actually he's just awkward."
"jake is on the soccer team and befriends literally everyone."
"ni-ki," sunoo says thoughtfully, "is the tall underclassman everyone's scared of at first. but he's actually just loud."
you both laugh again, your voices softer now, sleepier.
"what about us?" sunoo asks after a moment.
you giggle. "we'd be the ones gossiping in the back of class. sharing snacks and judging everyone."
the laughter fades slowly, like it doesn't want to leave.
for a while, neither of you say anything.
the ceiling suddenly feels… bigger.
"sunoo." you murmur softly.
"hmm?"
you keep your eyes on the blank white above you. "what do you think you'd be doing right now… if you weren't in enhypen?"
there's no teasing in your voice this time. no game. just quiet curiosity.
there's a long pause and you can almost hear him thinking.
"i think…" he starts slowly, "…i'd probably still try to do something creative. maybe theatre, or maybe i'd be one of those university students who joins every club possible."
you smile faintly. that sounds like him.
"you'd be popular." you say without hesitation.
he scoffs. "no."
"yes you would." you insist softly. "you'd be the student everyone likes but is slightly intimidated by."
"intimidated?" he gasps quietly. "me?"
"you know you have that aura."
he hums at that, not denying it.
"i think…" he continues, voice softer now, "maybe i would've even liked to own my own bakery or cafe. that sounds like fun. but... i don't think i'd have been as confident."
that makes you fully turn your head toward him. "what do you mean?"
he takes a breath. "being here. being in this group. performing, struggling together, it made me to grow in one of the best ways." he laughs lightly. "i don't think old me would recognize me now."
your chest tightens just a little. "i think he'd be proud." you say quietly.
the corners of sunoo's lips lift up slightly.
the room is quiet again.
"what about you?" he asks gently. "what would you be doing?"
you think about it.
"maybe something boring." you joke. "office job. nine to five."
"no way." he says immediately. "you'd never survive that."
you snort softly.
"you'd probably still find your way back to us somehow." he adds.
you glance at him. "that's not how life works."
"i don't care." he says simply. "i think some people are meant to meet."
your chest tightens at that.
you slowly turn your gaze back up to the ceiling, blinking at the faint shadow from the lamp outside filtering through the curtains. your throat suddenly feels dry.
"…sometimes." you begin, your voice quieter now, almost careful, "i wonder if there's a world out there where i'm not with you guys. like… a world where i never debuted with you, where we never crossed paths, where i don'’t know jungwon, or heeseung, or jay, or jake… or ni-ki.”'t know any of you boys."
your fingers curl slightly against the sheets.
"where would i be?" you whisper. "and where would you all be?"
you keep talking, almost like if you stop, the thought will get stuck inside you."
"maybe i'd be a fan,” you wonder. "saving up money for concerts. screaming in the crowd."
you try to smile a little. it doesn't quite reach.
"or maybe i'd just be some regular university student. too busy studying. too stressed about exams. not even paying attention."
sunoo's fingers twitch slightly against the blanket.
"maybe i'd walk past you guys one day." you continue softly, voice almost distant now. "on the street. or at a cafe. and you wouldn't even know who i am."
there's a lump in your throat.
"i wouldn't know anything about you, and you guys wouldn't knwo anything about me... and we'd just walk by."
you swallow.
"…that makes me sad."
sunoo shifts beside you.
"…i don't like this." he says quietly.
you swallow. "i'm just thinking."
"don't noona." he replies almost immediately.
you glance at him, surprised by the firmness in his tone.
his eyes are still on the ceiling, but his jaw has tightened slightly.
"why not?" you ask gently.
he exhales through his nose.
"because it sounds like you're imagining leaving."
your heart drops. "that's not what i—"
"it is." he interrupts softly, not harsh, just… vulnerable. "even if you don't mean it like that."
you didn't expect that.
you turn fully onto your side now, looking at him. his face mask has started peeling slightly near his chin, but he doesn't bother fixing it.
"sunoo," you murmur, "i'm not planning on disappearing."
he finally turns his head to look at you.
"then why think about it?"
there's something fragile in his eyes.
you hesitate. "because it scares me," you admit. "how much you all mean to me."
he goes quiet.
"if i never met you," you continue softly, "i wouldn't know what i was missing. but now that i do… imagining a world without you guys feels wrong. empty almost."
your voice cracks just a little at the end.
"it's not that i want it," you add quickly. "i just… sometimes i wonder how fragile everything is. how one decision could've changed it all."
sunoo stares at you for a long moment. then he sighs.
"i don't like fragile." he says.
you almost smile.
"me neither."
he shifts closer under the blanket without really thinking about it. your shoulders press more firmly together now.
"there isn't a world," he says quietly, "that i care about where you're not here."
your breath catches. "sunoo…"
"i mean it." he says, eyes steady on yours now as he peels off his mask now, you doing the same. "before debut, after debut, in another universe, whatever. if there's a version of me somewhere… i hope you're there too."
the firmness in his voice makes your chest ache.
"that's a big thing to wish for." you whisper weakly.
"maybe." he shrugs lightly. "but i don't like imagining us as strangers."
he hooks your pinky into his as he speaks, voice low and steady now.
"i'm sure i'd feel it," he says quietly. "the silence. like… even if we didn't know what was missing, we'd still feel something was off."
his thumb rubs gently over your knuckles.
"all of us probably would."
the room feels still around you, the distant hum of the dorm faint beyond the door.
"there's a reason we keep circling around the word 'fate' noona," he continues. "we don't say it lightly."
you know that. you've heard it in interviews, in late-night conversations, in the way the members look at each other when they talk about their journey.
it's not just a word to them, not something they use for aesthetics.
it's something they believe in.
sunoo glances at you again, softer now.
"we worked hard, we chose this. but it also feels like… we were guided here."
"like threads pulling us together." you murmur.
he nods. "yeah. and you're part of that thread."
the words settle deep in your chest.
"who's most likely to never leave each other alone?" he softly whispers this time, facing his ceiling.
you turned your head back to the ceiling, eyes watery as you squeeze your pinky with his.
"us."
sunoo smiled without even looking at you. "yeah." he says, squeezing your pinky back."
"us."
the dormitory air feels wrong.
it's not loud, nor is it warm like it usually is. instead it's heavy, thick with tension that settles into everyone's shoulders and makes even the smallest movement feel deliberate. no one is sitting close. no one is laughing. the space between each member feels wider than it actually is, like the room itself is trying to keep people apart.
and in the middle of it all, you and jungwon are standing in the living room, facing each other with raised voices.
you don't even remember how it started anymore.
it had begun on the way back from practice, maybe with a comment that was misunderstood, maybe with exhaustion making everything sharper than it needed to be. but by now, after minutes of back-and-forth, neither of you can trace the original spark. it feels like it dissolved into something bigger, something fueled by frustration and pride and the kind of stubbornness that only comes out when both of you care too much.
your voice echoes off the walls as you speak, hands gesturing without meaning to, your tone sharper than you intend. jungwon stands across from you, equally heated, his brows drawn tightly together, eyes focused on you in a way that feels intense and unyielding. neither of you backing down.
the others linger at the edges of the room, frozen in uncertainty. heeseung stands a little apart, jaw tense but expression carefully controlled, watching without interrupting. jay and jake exchange quick glances, clearly trying to figure out whether stepping in would help or make it worse. sunghoon's arms are crossed, eyes shifting between you and jungwon with quiet concern. ni-ki stands slightly behind him, unusually still, his usual energy replaced by a guarded silence. and sunoo's not sure his heart can handle all the yelling.
no one knows what to say.
the argument keeps building, your words overlapping with jungwon's, neither of you fully listening anymore. it's not just about the topic at this point, whatever it was. it's about being heard, being understood. about the frustration of feeling like something important slipped through the cracks.
your breathing is uneven. jungwon's is too.
and as the seconds stretch on, the rest of enhypen throw each other worried looks, silently asking what they should do, silently hoping this doesn't spiral further because they've seen disagreements before. they've seen stress and exhaustion and arguments born from pressure.
but this feels different. this feels close to something fragile. and right now, the only thing filling the dorm is the tension hanging in the air between you and jungwon, both of you standing your ground, neither willing to step back just yet.
jungwon's jaw is clenched so tightly the muscle ticks near his ear. his hands are rigid at his sides, fingers flexing like he's physically holding himself back. you can feel the tension in your own body too—your fists curled by your thighs, nails pressing crescents into your palms.
you've disagreed before. of course you have. practice corrections, scheduling conflicts, small misunderstandings that dissolve with a sigh and an apology.
but never like this.
"don't act like you're the only one exhausted." you snap, the frustration that's been simmering for weeks finally spilling over. "we're all tired. we're all stressed. i don't understand why you're so wound up."
jungwon's eyes flash.
"because i'm the leader!" he fires back, the words coming out harsher than he probably intends. "i have responsibilities you don't even see. i have to answer for everything. the last thing i need is you all acting like children and getting us into trouble with the managers."
from the corner of your eye, you see jay shift uncomfortably. jake inhales like he's about to step in, then hesitates.
you scoff, the sound sharp and incredulous.
"children?" you repeat. "i'm not a child. and i'm certainly not acting like one."
jungwon's shoulders rise and fall with a controlled breath that isn't very controlled at all.
"you don't understand the pressure." he says, voice lower now but edged with something raw. "every mistake reflects on me. every small thing becomes my fault!"
"and you think it doesn't affect us either?" you shoot back. "you think we don't feel that pressure too??"
"that's not what i—"
"no, you just assume we're reckless." you interrupt, your voice climbing again. "like we're burdens you have to babysit."
his jaw tightens further.
"that's not what " said."
"it's what you implied."
the room feels smaller. hotter.
you shake your head, anger mixing with something more personal now.
“I’m not a child," you repeat no less firmly. "but you wouldn't know what that feels like anymore."
his brows knit together. "what's that supposed to mean?"
"it means," you say, the words spilling out before you can soften them, "you've gotten so bossy lately that you don't even listen. you just command. you decide. you assume."
there's a beat of stunned silence after that as your words hang in the air.
jungwon's nostrils flare, his composure cracking in a way you've almost never seen before. he takes a step closer, not aggressively, but close enough that the space between you shrinks into something tight and suffocating.
"say that again noona." he says, voice low, daring.
you don't hesitate.
"bossy." you repeat, staring straight at him. "that's all you are nowadays. commands. orders. schedules. corrections. it's like talking to a robot."
a muscle in his jaw jumps. "a robot?" he echoes, incredulous.
"yeah." you fire back. "like you forgot how to just be with us. everything has to be efficient. everything has to be perfect. everything has to go your way."
"because someone has to be serious when it matters." he snaps, his voice finally rising to match yours. "someone has to think ahead. someone has to care about consequences!"
"we care!" you shout back.
"do you?" he challenges immediately. "because from where i'm standing, you think everything is fine as long as it doesn't directly involve you."
that hits.
your eyes widen, anger flashing.
"that's NOT true!"
"isn't it?" he presses. "you brush things off. you joke. you say we'll deal with it later. but later becomes my problem."
"your problem?" you repeat sharply. "we're a group, jungwon. not some little group project!"
"i know we're a group!" he shoots back. "but when something goes wrong, who do you think gets called first? who do you think has to sit in those meetings? who has to answer when the managers are upset?!"
"so now we're burdens?" you demand. "is that it? we're just things you have to manage?"
"that's not what i said." he fights back.
"yeah? well that's exactly how you sound."
you both are breathing hard now, standing too close, words coming out faster than either of you can filter them.
"you don't listen anymore," you accuse. "you just decide what's right and expect us to follow."
"and you don't think before you act." he counters immediately. "you think passion fixes everything."
"at least i have passion." you snap.
his eyes flash.
"and at least i'm thinking about the future instead of just the moment."
"wow." you laugh bitterly. "so now i'm irresponsible?"
"if the shoe fits—"
"don't." you warn.
"then stop acting like i'm the villain for trying to keep this together." he fires back.
"no one asked you to carry it alone!" you shout. "you chose to act like that!"
"because if i don't, things fall apart!" he yells, louder than he has all night. "someone has to hold the line."
"we're not your soldiers." you grit out. "we're your members. your friends."
the word hangs heavy.
he looks at you, chest rising and falling, eyes bright with frustration.
"then start acting like it," he says, quieter but sharper. "instead of making things harder."
"harder?" your voice trembles, more from anger than hurt. "you think i make things harder?"
"sometimes." he admits, jaw tight.
that's when it spirals.
you throw back every time he corrected your tone. every time he pulled you aside to 'talk'. every time he dismissed your opinion because it wasn't practical enough.
he throws back every time you brushed off a warning. every time you rolled your eyes at a reminder. every time you undermined him in front of the others without meaning to.
accusations pile up.
you say he doesn't trust you.
he says you don't respect him as leader.
you say he's changed.
he says you refuse to be the older and responsible one between them.
neither of you notice the way the others have gone completely silent now, tension crackling through the dorm like static.
this isn't about practice anymore. it's not about managers.
it's about pride, about pressure, and about two people who care too much and are too exhausted to say it properly.
and neither of you is willing to be the first to step back.
"guys—"
"hey, let's just—"
noona, hyung, calm down please—"
but neither of you hear the other boys. or maybe you do, and you just don't care.
your arms cross tightly over your chest, your breath uneven, and you snap your head toward the others, frustration spilling over.
"you all agree with me, right?" you demand, eyes searching their faces desperately. "tell him i'm not crazy."
they freeze.
that's all it takes for jungwon to step in again.
"don't drag them into this." he cuts in sharply, moving closer. so close that suddenly there's barely any space between you. almost chest to chest. the proximity catches you off guard for half a second, and you have to crane your neck up to meet his eyes.
but you don't shy away. you match his glare.
"you always think you're right." he snaps suddenly.
the words hit you like a slap.
"excuse me??" you yell.
he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "you do this every time. you get emotional, you dig your heels in, and you refuse to see another perspective."
"oh my god." you laugh bitterly. "that's rich coming from you."
heeseung finally steps forward, unable to stay back any longer. his voice is firm but careful.
"guys, please. this is too much."
jake moves in too, gently reaching to place a hand on jungwon's shoulder.
“won, come on. just breathe for a second—"
jungwon shrugs him off almost instantly.
"no." he says, not even looking at him. his eyes are locked on you. "nnot until noona gets it in her brain that this shit is serious. i'm not backing down."
the word noona lands heavy.
it's not affectionate right now.
it's frustrated. sharp.
you feel your throat tighten but you refuse to let it show.
"i know it's serious!" you shout back. "you think i don't? you think i haven't been trying?"
"trying?" jungwon repeats, incredulous.
"yes, trying!" you step forward this time, closing whatever little space was left between you. "i've been doing my best to support you. i've been helping with practices, with schedules, with keeping the mood up when everyone's tired. i've tried to take things off your plate when i can!"
your voice wavers, just slightly.
"but you clearly haven't noticed. because you're too wound up in your own head."
that one lands.
for a split second, his expression flickers.
"don't." he warns.
"don't what jungwon." you press. "don't tell the truth?"
"don't act like you understand what it's like." he growls. "you don't sit in those meetings. you don't hear what i hear."
"then let me!" you fire back immediately. "let me in instead of shutting everyone out!"
your voice cracks at the edges, but it's strong, desperate, pleading beneath the anger.
jungwon's face hardens instead of softening.
"let you in?" he shoots back, his laugh sharp and humorless. "what, you think you'll actually be of any help?"
the room freezes.
it's subtle at first, the way everyone stills, but it's there. like the air has been vacuumed out all at once.
ni-ki's head snaps up, eyes narrowing.
"hyung—" he starts, a low warning in his voice, but you cut him off before he can continue.
you lift your chin, nose tilting up in wounded pride, eyes burning.
"what?" you challenge, stepping even closer despite the way your heart is starting to pound unevenly. "you don't think my help would do you any good?"
jungwon doesn't answer immediately.
the silence feels dangerous.
"you looking down on me now?" you press, your voice trembling not with fear, but fury.
and something in him finally breaks.
you see it happen. the moment where the frustration overrides the restraint. where the hurt turns into something reckless. his breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling too quickly, eyes dark and blazing with emotion he can't seem to regulate anymore.
he doesn't think.
he just speaks.
"yeah," he spits out. "kinda hard not to when you're such a hinderance."
the word lands like a physical blow.
your brain barely has time to process it before he keeps going, mouth moving faster than his mind can catch up.
"maybe the managers should've thought twice before allowing you into the group."
it's as if time splits open.
everything stops.
the dorm goes so quiet you can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
you don't move. you don't blink. it feels like all the air has been sucked from your lungs at once, like something cold and sharp has driven straight through your chest. the word hinderance echoes in your head, over and over, overlapping with the rest of it.
maybe they should've thought twice.
maybe you shouldn't be here.
your body goes rigid, frozen in place. a cold chill creeps down your spine and settles deep into your bones.
around you, the others look like they've been punched in the gut.
heeseung's mouth parts in shock, eyes wide. jake's hand drops limply to his side, jay mutters a stunned "what the fuck." under his breath, sunghoon stands up from the chair he was sitting on. sunoo's face drains of color, and ni-ki's jaw tightens so hard it looks painful, anger flaring in his eyes.
jungwon is still breathing hard, chest heaving in and out, eyes locked on you with a storm of emotion that hasn't caught up to the damage he's just done.
you don't think you've ever seen him look like that.
not at you.
never at you.
it doesn't even feel real. like maybe you misheard.
but you didn't.
the silence stretches, suffocating.
your vision blurs slightly, and you realize too late that your eyes are filling. you try to swallow, to steady yourself, to say something back, something cutting and sharp enough to match what he just threw at you.
nothing comes out.
instead, a shaky, stuttered breath leaves your lips.
it's small, fragile. but in the dead silence of the room, it sounds deafening.
a single tear slips free before you can stop it, warm against your skin as it trails slowly down your cheek.
that's when it hits him.
you see it in real time. the anger drains from his face, replaced by something horrified. his breathing stutters, like he's just realized what he's done. his eyes flicker from your tear to your expression, and the weight of his words crashes down on him all at once.
"i—" he starts, but the word dies in his throat.
the damage is already done.
your voice feels like it's been stolen straight from your throat, replaced by something hollow and ringing. tears fall freely now, no longer held back by pride or anger, slipping down your cheeks one after another as you stare at jungwon like you don't quite recognize the person standing in front of you.
your arms have fallen to your sides. your fists are no longer clenched.
you just look… defeated.
sunghoon is the first one to move.
he had been rooted in place before, stunned like the rest of them, but something in your expression—something in the way your shoulders tremble—snaps him out of it. he strides forward without hesitation, jaw tight, eyes blazing in a way they rarely do.
he grabs jungwon by the shoulder and shoves him back, not violently, but firmly enough to create space.
"what the fuck do you think you’re saying?!" sunghoon growls, his voice low and shaking with anger.
jungwon stumbles a few steps back, caught off guard. his balance falters and he barely catches himself, eyes wide, mouth parted uselessly as he tries to find words that won't come.
"i— i didn't—" he stutters, but the sentence collapses before it can form.
he looks frozen. he's not angry anymore. just stunned, like he's only now hearing his own voice echo back at him.
the others move all at once after that, as if the spell finally breaks.
jay is at sunghoon's side in seconds, putting a hand on his chest to hold him back from advancing further. "enough." he mutters, though his glare is still locked on jungwon. "just— enough."
ni-ki steps forward too, placing himself halfway between jungwon and you, his expression darker than you've ever seen it. he doesn't say anything this time. he just stands there, protective and rigid.
heeseung moves toward jungwon, gripping his arm tightly, steadying him as he sways slightly.
"won," he says sharply, his voice carrying both authority and disbelief. "what was that?"
jungwon shakes his head faintly, like he's trying to wake up from something. "i didn't mean— i wasn't thinking—"
jake is the first to reach you, hands hovering awkwardly before he gently rests them on your shoulders. "hey." he says softly, voice completely different from the tension just moments ago. "hey, look at me y/n."
but you can't. your eyes are unfocused, staring at nothing.
sunoo steps in front of you, his own eyes glossy. he reaches up carefully and wipes at your cheek with his sleeve, his hand trembling. "noona…" he whispers, and there's something broken in his voice.
the living room feels split in half now.
half of them around you, trying to ground you, to steady you. half around jungwon, who looks like the floor has disappeared beneath him.
"this has gone too far." jay mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"we don't do that." sunghoon snaps, still seething. "we don't say things like that to each other."
jungwon's breathing is uneven, but not from anger anymore. it's panic now. regret crashing into him in waves.
"i didn't mean it," he says, voice cracking. "i swear i didn't mean it."
but the words feel weak in the heavy air.
because even if he didn't mean it—
he said it.
and you're still standing there, silent, tears falling freely, looking like something inside you just shattered.
the sound that leaves you is just a small, choked sob that you try and fail to swallow back down. but in the suffocating quiet of the dorm, it might as well be a scream.
jungwon's head snaps towards you immediately.
whatever shock had frozen him in place shatters at that sound. he breaks free from heeseung's grip without thinking, pushing past jay's arm, ignoring the way sunghoon steps forward again like he's ready to block him.
"noona—" his voice cracks as he rushes toward you.
but the second he gets close—
you flinch.
it's small, barely noticeable. your shoulders jerk and your body shifts back half a step like you're bracing yourself.
and that tiny movement breaks something in him completely.
he stops dead in his tracks as the look on his face crumples.
"no, no—" he breathes, shaking his head rapidly. "noona, i'm not— i wouldn't—"
sunoo is still beside you, one hand on your arm. jake stands slightly in front of you like a barrier, but he doesn't stop jungwon from speaking.
his voice is frantic now, stripped of all pride, all anger.
"i— im sorry." he rushes out, stepping closer again but slower this time, cautious. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it! i wasn't thinking. i swear to you i didn't mean a single word of that!"
you can hear him.
you know he's talking, you know he's apologizing. but it feels like you're underwater.
his voice sounds distant, muffled, like it has to travel through something thick before it reaches you. your heart is pounding so hard in your chest it almost hurts, each beat loud in your ears. your hands are cold. your fingers tingle.
you can't think straight.
you can't process.
all you can feel is the echo of his words looping cruelly in your head.
hinderance.
should have thought twice.
you nod.
it's small, almost mechanical. your chin dipping once like your body is responding out of habit rather than understanding.
you don't look at him. you can't.
a hiccuped sob tears out of you, embarrassing and shaky, and you lift a trembling hand to wipe your face but it only smears the tears further.
"i—" your voice cracks badly. you swallow and try again. "i want to leave."
everyone goes still again.
"what?" jake's voice is immediate, panicked.
"i want to leave." you repeat, barely holding it together. "i just— i need some space. i need to breathe."
panic ripples through the room.
jake reaches for you instinctively, fingers wrapping around your arm. "what do you mean leave? you can't just—"
you gently pry his hand off, not harshly, just firm enough to break contact.
"please." you sob softly. "i just need space."
"noona, wait—" jungwon steps forward again, desperation flooding back into his voice.
but you don't let him finish.
you slip past them before anyone can react fast enough, your vision blurry with tears as you rush toward the front door. your hands shake as you shove your feet into your sneakers, not even bothering to tie them properly, heels barely pressed in.
someone calls out for you again, you're not even sure who.
the door swings open as the cool air of the building hallway hits your face.
and then you're gone.
the door closes behind you with a heavy click. the sound echoes and the living room feels enormous in your absence. the silence left behind is suffocating.
jungwon stands frozen where you left him, staring at the door like it might open again if he wills it hard enough. he feels like the air has been sucked out of the room entirely.
he can't breathe.
sunoo presses a hand to his mouth, eyes glossy. ni-ki runs a hand through his hair in frustration, pacing once before stopping. heeseung closes his eyes briefly, trying to steady himself. sunghoon looks toward the door, jaw tight, worry etched across his features. jake is still standing near where you pulled away from him, hand half-raised like he's replaying the moment.
jungwon swallows hard.
"i—" his voice breaks. he tries again. "i didn't— i didn't mean—"
"we know." heeseung says quietly, but it's strained.
jungwon's shoulders slump slightly.
he feels sick.
jay exhales sharply, running both hands over his face before looking around at everyone.
"okay." he says, voice firm despite the tension. "we all need to talk."
no one argues. because this isn't something that can be brushed off. this isn't a small fight that ends with takeaway food and awkward laughter.
you had walked out.
and jungwon stands there in the middle of the living room, staring at the closed door, feeling like he's just watched something precious slip through his fingers because he wanted to win an argument that suddenly doesn't matter at all.
.....
outside, the air hits you like a shock.
it's cold enough to bite, sharp against your damp cheeks, turning the trails of your tears icy as they keep falling. your lungs burn when you inhale too quickly, but you don't slow down. you just keep moving, sneakers slapping unevenly against the pavement, laces loose and heels barely secured.
you don't even know where you're going.
left. right. straight ahead. anywhere that isn't there.
the city is quieter at this hour, the hum of distant traffic blending into a low, constant murmur. your breaths come out in shaky puffs of white, dissolving into the night as fast as they form.
you don't stop running until your legs begin to ache and your chest feels tight for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold.
you turn a corner without thinking and find yourself near a small park you vaguely recognize. it's mostly empty, swings swaying faintly in the wind, leaves rustling along the pavement. a single streetlamp casts a pale yellow glow over a secluded stretch of footpath. you just walk toward it and your knees give out.
you slump down onto the curb beneath the streetlamp, the concrete unforgiving beneath you. you hug your arms around yourself automatically, shoulders shaking, and press the heels of your hands against your eyes as if you can physically force the tears to stop.
they don't.
each breath is uneven, hitching, breaking apart in your chest before you can steady it. your head feels heavy, thoughts muddled and tangled together.
hinderance.
maybe they should have thought twice.
you squeeze your eyes shut harder.
"stop." you whisper to yourself, voice trembling.
you know he didn't mean it. you know he was angry. you know he was hurting too.
but knowing doesn't erase the way it felt.
those words didn't just sting—they cut deep, right into the place you keep your quiet fears. the insecurities you rarely voice out loud. the small voice that sometimes wonders if you're enough, if you're pulling your weight, if you truly deserve to stand beside them.
another sob escapes you before you can swallow it down. you wipe at your face again, but your skin is already cold and sensitive from the constant tears.
you tilt your head back against the metal pole of the streetlamp, staring up at the pale halo of light above you. moths flutter lazily around it, unaware of the storm raging beneath.
your phone buzzes again in your trembling hands.
for a second, you almost ignore it.
but the screen lights up against the dim glow of the streetlamp, and through blurry vision you see the notifications stacked on top of each other. missed call after missed calls and messages after messages.
your throat tightens again.
before you can process it, another call comes in.
its jay.
you stare at his name for two full rings.
three.
four.
you inhale shakily and swipe to answer.
"h-hello…" the word barely makes it out, fragile and cracked.
on the other end, you immediately hear him exhale in relief.
"she answered." jay says quickly, voice turning away from the phone for a second. you can hear muffled movement in the background.
voices overlap faintly.
"is she okay?"
"give it to me—"
"where is she?"
jay comes back, and when he speaks again his tone is steady. but you can hear it—the worry tucked into every syllable.
"hey… you okay?"
you open your mouth and nothing comes out. your lips tremble instead. the wind rustles through the trees above you and your silence stretches too long.
jay exhales lowly.
"i'm sorry." he says quietly. "we should've stepped in earlier when it was getting heated. we shouldn't have let it escalate like that."
you don't have the energy to respond properly. you just hum faintly into the phone so he knows you're litening.
in the background, you hear ni-ki's voice—tense, a little sharp with anxiety.
"ask her where she is. did she say where she'd she go?"
jay clears his throat. "where are you right now?"
you press your sleeve to your nose and sniff, looking around as if the surroundings might answer for you. empty swings, leafless trees, and the lonely streetlamp buzzing faintly above you.
"in some park." you murmur, voice cracks in the end.
"okay." jay replies immediately. "that's okay. just stay there, alright? don't move. jungwon's already out looking for you."
you don't say anything.
jay sighs softly on the other end. "i talked to him. we all did."
you squeeze your eyes shut.
"you know he didn't mean that, right?" jay continues carefully. "it's not an excuse. he was upset and he didn't think before he spoke. but you know he would never actually believe those words."
your breathing wavers.
you sniff again and wipe at your cheeks again, though they're already dry from the cold air.
"…i know." you breathe.
there's a pause. and then jay's voice softens even more.
"we love you. all of us do. we're so proud to have you with us. none of us would ever wish for anything different."
your chest aches in a different way now.
"jungwon especially." he adds quietly.
you blink.
that catches you off guard.
"what…?"
jay lets out a small breath, almost like a half-laugh. "you don't see it because he's not obvious about it. but he cares about you the most when it comes to the group. he worries about you constantly. about whether you're okay, whether you're overworking, whether people treat you fairly. i mean, we all do, but no one does it more than that guy."
your heart twists. you didn't know that.
"he's probably panicking the hardest right now." he continues. "he's been blaming himself since you left."
you swallow.
the image of jungwon walking through the cold streets alone, eyes scanning every corner—
it hurts.
"let him know where you are." jay says gently. "okay? please. just text him the location. he'll come to you."
you nod faintly even though he can't see it.
"…okay."
there's another small pause.
"we love you." jay says again, firm this time.
your lips tremble.
"i love you guys too."
you mean it with your whole chest.
you hang up slowly, staring at your reflection in the dark screen for a second before lowering the phone to your lap.
the park is still quiet.
after a moment, you unlock your phone again. your thumb hovers over his contact for a second before you press send.
location shared.
no message. no explanation. just a blinking pin on a map that says here.
you lock your phone and slide it back into your pocket, the screen's faint glow disappearing, leaving you alone again under the streetlamp's pale halo.
the night feels quieter now.
fifteen minutes. that's what you probably have before he finds you. fifteen minutes to sit with everything.
you draw a slow breath, though it trembles on the way out. the cold doesn't feel as sharp anymore, or maybe your skin is just numb from crying. your mind starts replaying the past few days—the exhaustion, the tension, the tight schedules, the small misunderstandings that kept stacking on top of each other until they became too heavy.
it wasn't just tonight. it was everything.
you think about jungwon. the way he'd been quieter than usual these past few days. how he stayed back after practice to talk to staff. how he was the one fielding the harder questions. how he always made sure everyone else ate first before grabbing his own plate.
you weren't the leader... he was. jungwon had that title for a reason. he carries it like it's stitched into his skin.
he's strong. everyone says it, the fans say it, the members say it, even you say it.
but strong doesn't mean unbreakable.
and tonight, you hadn't helped.
you squeeze your hands together, remembering your own words—sharp, defensive, thrown out in hurt without filtering them. accusing him of not understanding you, of not caring enough.
you swallow, guilt slowly replacing the ache in your chest. you know that wasn't fair.
if anything, he prioritizes too much.
you think about the way he looks at everyone during interviews, subtly checking if they're okay. the way he steps in during awkward moments and when he absorbs stress so the rest of you don't have to feel it as heavily.
maybe it had just been too much lately.
maybe your words had been the final push when he was already teetering on the edge.
your chest tightens at the thought. you hadn’t meant to hurt him either.
but you did.
and he hurt you.
and now both of you are out in the same cold night, thinking about the same fight from opposite ends.
you tilt your head up, staring at the dark sky beyond the streetlamp's glow.
you both care for each other, and that's what made it hurt so much.
you inhale slowly, steadying yourself. he wasn't just a leader tonight. he was a boy who'd reached his limit. and you had reached yours.
maybe neither of you were villains in this story, maybe you were just tired.
you close your eyes. when he gets here, you won't yell. you'll listen.
and maybe… maybe you'll apologize first.
......
not too long after you sent your location, you're still sitting beneath the streetlamp, staring at nothing in particular, lost in your thoughts when you notice movement at the far edge of the park.
at first it's just a shadow shifting between trees. you blink, unsure if i'’s your imagination. but then the figure steps closer into the light spilling from the nearby street.
jungwon.
his pace is quick at first, almost frantic, head turning sharply from side to side as he scans the area. even from this distance, you can see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders are slightly raised, the way his steps are uneven, unsure but determined all at once. he looks like he's been running on adrenaline since leaving the dorm.
your heart reacts before your mind does.
he spins around once, searching further, and then suddenly freezes in place when his eyes land on you.
for a moment, neither of you moves. the distance between you feels both small and enormous at the same time, as though the park has stretched itself just to make this moment longer. his expression shifts when he confirms it's really you sitting there.
you take a slow breath, reaching up and gently wipe away the last traces of moisture clinging to your waterline. then after a second of hesitation, you lift your hand. small and uncertain. just a quiet wave in his direction.
that simple gesture seems to break whatever remaining stillness was holding him back.
jungwon exhales sharply, almost like he's been holding his breath the entire time he was searching. his shoulders drop, and something in his expression softens so visibly it makes your own throat tighten again.
he doesn't run. instead, he starts walking toward you slowly.
each step is deliberate and careful, like he's afraid that if he moves too fast you might disappear. his eyes stay locked on you the entire time, never leaving your face.
the space between you shrinks with every step he takes.
when jungwon is only a few feet away, his steps slow, uncertainty creeping back into his movements. the determination that carried him across the park gives way to something softer, more fragile, as though now that he's close enough to touch you, he's afraid of what that contact might mean.
he stops directly in front of you where you're still sitting on the curb beneath the streetlamp.
for a moment, neither of you speaks.
the silence isn't heavy anymore, but it's charged. there's a pulling sensation in your chest, the instinct to look away first, to break the intensity of it all. you can see it in him too, the same urge flickering behind his eyes.
but neither of you does.
and for the first time since the fight began, there's no anger left in the space between you. only exhaustion. only regret. only the quiet realization of how badly things spiraled.
after a few seconds that feel much longer, both of you inhale at the same time.
your mouths open simultaneously.
"i'm sorry." "i'm sorry"
the words fall out together, overlapping in the cold air.
you both stop and look at each other stunned.
then something shifts in jungwon's face, where the last remnants of restraint break entirely.
he surges forward suddenly, driven by emotion rather than thought. you barely have time to register the movement before you're pushing yourself up from the curb, standing just as he reaches you. and then he's firmly and desperately wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you flush against his chest and closing every inch of space between you.
apologies spill out rapidly, words tumbling over each other in a rush of regret. he buries his face into the side of your neck, his breath shaky against your skin as he holds you like he's afraid you might vanish if he loosens his grip.
you stand there for only a couple of seconds before something inside of you eases and then your lifting your arms lift slowly, hesitantly at first, before wrapping around his neck just as tightly. your fingers press into the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to him. you turn your face slightly and rest it against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him. and you realize he's shaking slightly, whether from the cold or emotion you can't tell.
his grip tightens when he feels you hug him back, as if that reassurance gives him permission to hold on.
the apologies don't stop. they're muffled against your skin, quieter, breaking apart with every breath.
the streetlamp above you hums softly.
tiny drops wetting your neck where jungwon's face is buried, warm against your cold skin. he lets out a small, broken whine, the sound muffled by your shoulder as his grip tightens instinctively, like he's trying to hold himself together through you.
his breathing is uneven.
and then the words come, tumbling out in a rush, no pride left to protect.
"i didn't mean what i said back there." he says, voice shaking, each sentence pressed into your neck. "it was fucked up of me. i would never—ever—tell you that you don’t belong with us."
his arms squeeze you closer.
"i let my frustrations get the best of me. i spoke without thinking. i'm a big, dumb idiot.”
there's no trace of the sharpness from earlier. only raw and unfiltered regret.
"but if you forgive me," he continues desperately, his fingers clutching the fabric at your back, "i swear i'll do better. not just as your leader, as your friend. please, noona. please. please forgive me."
the repetition breaks something in your chest.
you tighten your grip around him in response, one hand sliding higher along his back, the other pressing firmly into his shoulder. you shake your head where it rests against him, your voice coming out muffled but sincere.
"i'm sorry too."
he stills slightly, listening.
you swallow, throat aching. "you do so much for all of us. and in the end i called you bossy. i accused you of being like a robot. that wasn't fair."
your fingers curl into his hoodie.
"you have feelings too. you're not just our leader. i should've seen things from your perspective before speaking. i was hurt and i lashed out just as much."
your voice trembles, but you force yourself to keep going.
"what you said did hurt." you admit softly. "but i understand you were overwhelmed. and i'm sorry i didn't try harder to understand that sooner."
jungwon pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still firmly on your waist, like he needs to see your face to believe you're really here, really talking to him. his eyes are red from guilt.
"you're not a burden." he says quietly, almost urgently. "not to me, not to anyone."
you nod faintly.
"and you're not bossy." you add gently. "you're just trying to protect us."
he leans his forehead against yours.
the cold air surrounds you both, but where you're touching, everything feels warm.
"i was scared," he confesses in a whisper. "that if i don't hold everything together, it'll fall apart."
your thumbs move slowly against his back, grounding him.
"it won't." you murmur. "we're not that fragile, you don't have to carry things alone."
he closes his eyes briefly, breathing you in like it steadies him.
after a while, the tightness in the hug eases naturally, not because either of you wants to let go, but because you both understand that you're staying.
you sit back down on the curb together, shoulders brushing, close enough that your warmth seeps into each other through layers of fabric. the streetlamp above casts a soft golden glow over the two of you, turning the moment quieter and intimate. the night doesn't feel as cold anymore.
for a few seconds, you just breathe.
jungwon drags a hand over his face, wiping the last of his tears away, then lets out a shaky exhale that almost sounds like a tired laugh. you can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips in response. it feels strange how quickly things can shift—from shouting to silence, from hurt to understanding.
you both know each other well enough to understand that what was said tonight wasn't spoken from the heart. it was exhaustion, pressure and fear that were talking.
you pull your knees up slightly, wrapping your arms around them as you stare out at the empty park. "it's just been… a lot lately." you admit.
jungwon nods immediately, like he's been waiting for someone to say it out loud.
he tells you about the meetings that have been weighing on him. about the constant balancing act of being strong for everyone else while feeling like he's running low himself. about how he's been scared to admit he's struggling because he thinks a leader isn't supposed to.
you listen carefully, really listen without interrupting.
then you tell him your side.
how the schedule has been draining you more than you let on. how you've been overthinking small mistakes. how sometimes you feel like you have to prove yourself over and over again, even when no one is asking you to. how when he would correct you, it hit nerves you didn't realize were already raw.
"i thought you were disappointed in me." you confess quietly.
his head snaps toward you. "never."
"hmm. i know that now."
you both sit with that.
the realization that you had been misreading each other for days because neither of you slowed down enough to talk. small misunderstandings piling up silently until they exploded tonight.
"i think we were both just tired." he says after a moment, voice softer.
"yeah." you agree. "tired and stubborn."
he nudges your shoulder lightly with his.
you nudge back.
you talk about how things have been affecting everyone—the subtle irritability, the way jokes haven't landed as easily, the quietness at dinner. how all of you have been carrying your own pieces of stress but trying not to burden the others with them.
"we can't keep doing that." you say gently. "pretending we're fine until we snap."
jungwon nods slowly. "i don't want to either."
there's a pause. then he adds more quietly, "i don't want to hurt you like that again."
your chest warms at that. "you won't." you say with certainty. "and if you do by accident, we'll talk before it turns into this."
he smiles faintly at that, the kind of small, tired smile that feels more honest than anything flashy.
you lean your head lightly against his shoulder, and after a second, he lets his rest against yours.
the night feels calmer now.
just as the last of the tension melts into something lighter between you, your phone begins to ring again, the sudden vibration in your pocket breaking the quiet calm of the park.
you pull it out, glancing at the screen.
heeseung.
you and jungwon share a small look before you answer, putting the call on speaker. your voice is steadier now. "hello?"
there's immediate noise on the other end—familiar voices overlapping in the background before heeseung's cuts through clearly. he asks how the two of you are, if jungwon found you and if everything's okay now,.
you glance at jungwon, who's watching you carefully, almost nervously, as if he's waiting for confirmation from your side too.
you can't help the small smile that spreads across your face.
"we're fine." you say softly. "we talked it out. we're alright now."
you can practically hear the collective sigh of relief from the other end of the line. someone—probably sunoo—murmurs something about finally being able to breathe again. there's light teasing mixed with genuine concern, and it makes your chest feel warm.
heeseung tells you it's getting late and that he hopes you both come home soon.
"we will." you promise. "we're heading back now."
after a few more reassurances and a quiet "love you guys", you hang up.
you look up to see jungwon already looking at you.
there's a softness in his expression that wasn't there earlier. not the leader. not the one carrying the world on his shoulders.
just him.
he pushes himself up from the curb first, brushing his hands against his pants. then he turns to you and holds his hand out.
his fingers are slightly pink from the cold.
"come on noona." he says gently. "let's go home."
noona.
the word settles warmly in your chest.
you take his hand without hesitation this time.
his grip closes around yours firmly, steady and grounding as he helps you up from the curb. for a brief second, you're closer than necessary, and neither of you pulls away immediately.
hand in hand, you begin walking back together, steps falling naturally into sync.
the path home feels a little warmer than before.
you and sunoo were standing side by side, arms loosely crossed, staring down at the absolute disaster happening on the living room floor. a full-on dogpile of limbs and voices and chaos had taken over the space, with the rest of the members tangled together in a mess of kicking legs and flailing arms. you both wore identical frowns as you watched, like two exhausted observers witnessing something deeply unnecessary.
you didn't even remember how it had started, but you were pretty sure ni-ki had been bothering jake like usual, which somehow spiraled into jake retaliating, and then sunghoon and jay getting dragged in, and jungwon trying to be responsible for about three seconds before he too disappeared into the pile. now the floor was just a storm of hoodies and sneakers and loud arguing.
jungwon and jay had both tried to grab you and sunoo at least a few times, hands reaching out to pull you into the mess but the two of you had worked together seamlessly, dodging and weaving and pulling the other out of the way at just the right moments. now you both stood safely at the edge of the dogpile, untouched and unimpressed.
you saw someone get elbowed in the ribs and winced instinctively, your eyes flicking to sunoo. he met your gaze, his own face mirroring your concern and annoyance, and in that silent exchange you both came to the same decision.
"you wanna get out of here?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
you didn't even hesitate, already turning around and heading for the door. "god yes."
a few loud yells followed behind you, someone shouting your name, another one demanding you come back, but you and sunoo were already scrambling to pull on your shoes, hands clumsy with urgency as you tried to escape before anyone could drag you back into the pile. you laughed under your breath as you slipped them on, adrenaline buzzing in your veins, and then the two of you were rushing out of the dorm, free from the madness.
the two of you walked down the road side by side, the dorm building slowly shrinking behind you with every step. the air felt lighter out here, quieter, like you could finally breathe again without someone tackling you or yelling your name. the sky above was painted in soft shades of orange and pink as the sun began to set, casting everything in a warm, gentle glow that made the streets feel almost dreamy.
you and sunoo wandered without any real destination, stopping to peer into shop windows, pointing out cute clothes, weird displays, and anything that caught your eye. at one point, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and when you checked it, sunghoon's name lit up the screen.
"how dare you leave the dorm without telling me." he complained the second you picked up.
you didn't even blink before hanging up, slipping your phone back into your pocket like nothing happened. sunoo burst into laughter beside you, nearly doubling over as he covered his mouth.
not long after, the two of you stumbled upon a small, adorable shop filled with tiny trinkets and pastel-coloured decorations. it was impossible not to go in. inside, you found shelves lined with the cutest little things, and eventually you both ended up standing in front of a display of tiny kitty figures.
"we should get these." sunoo said immediately.
you ended up choosing one for him, a little cat with a mischievous smile that reminded you a little too much of him, while he picked one out for you, carefully comparing them like it was the most serious decision in the world. you both paid and left with your tiny treasures tucked safely away, smiling the whole time.
by the time the sun had dipped lower in the sky, your stomachs both began to growl in unison, making you look at each other and laugh.
"dinner?" sunoo suggested.
"dinner." you agreed.
the two of you made your way over to one of the restaurants you frequented together, pushing open the familiar doors and stepping inside. the warm smells of food immediately wrapped around you, making your hunger even worse.
both you and sunoo headed straight for your usual table, the one tucked away comfortably in the corner of the restaurant. it was far enough from prying eyes to feel private, but it still sat right by the window, giving you a clear view of the street outside where the last of the sunlight was fading into soft evening colors. it always felt like your little spot, a place that belonged just to the two of you.
you slid into the booth, sinking back against the cushioned seat with a small sigh of relief, while sunoo made himself comfortable across from you, already looking way too happy to be there. the waiter came by with a warm smile and handed you both your menus, and you thanked him before immediately starting to flip through the pages.
you and sunoo leaned in toward the table, quietly discussing what to get, pointing at different dishes and debating which ones would be the best to share. sunoo, as always, happily chose anything that looked especially delicious, eyes lighting up every time he spotted something new. you laughed at his enthusiasm, circling a few of your own picks as well.
you leaned back into your seat with a long, content sigh, letting yourself slouch comfortably into the booth like all the tension from the day had finally drained out of you. across from you, sunoo mirrored your posture almost perfectly, sinking down and stretching his legs out under the table.
he shot you a small, knowing smile. "tired already?"
you nodded lazily. "yeah, a little." you admitted, but your tone was happy. "but i had fun. we should definitely go back to that cute shop next time."
sunoo's eyes lit up immediately. "we should. and we have to get more matching things."
"anddd." you continued, leaning forward slightly as excitement crept back into your tone, "we should try that ice cream shop next door before heading home."
sunoo gasped lightly like you'd just suggested the best idea in the world. "oh my god yesss."
the two of you spent the next few minutes debating flavors and whether you should share or get separate cups, completely immersed in your little planning session. you were just about to lift your hand to call the waitress over when—
bang.
the loud noise against the window right beside your table made both you and sunoo jump in your seats. your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as your heads snapped toward the sound, eyes wide.
pressed dramatically against the glass were two very familiar faces.
jungwon and ni-ki stood outside, wrapped in their jackets, grinning like absolute menaces. ni-ki had his hand cupped around his face as if trying to peer in better, while jungwon waved enthusiastically.
"yoooo!" jungwon enthusiastically yelled through the glass.
you and sunoo both stared at them in disbelief, your expressions slowly shifting from shock to pure what the hell energy.
before you could even process how they'd found you, the two younger boys stepped away from the window and started heading toward the restaurant's front doors. just before moving fully out of sight, ni-ki leaned back toward the glass and tapped on it again loudly, clearly trying to scare you one more time.
this time, you didn't jump. you just slowly raised an eyebrow at him through the window, unimpressed.
sunoo sighed. "so much for a peaceful dinner."
the front door of the restaurant chimed loudly as jungwon and ni-ki stepped inside, bringing a small gust of cold evening air in with them. you could already hear them before you saw them properly, their voices carrying easily through the cozy hum of the restaurant as they made their way toward the back where you and sunoo were seated.
they were loud when they reached your table.
"found you!" ni-ki announced, like he had just completed some grand mission.
jungwon slid into the empty booth space smoothly next to you without hesitationbefore settling down like he belonged there all along. he shrugged off his jacket, clearly grateful for the warmth of the restaurant heaters, and draped it over his lap.
before you could even comment, he threw an arm around your shoulders and leaned into you comfortably, his side pressing against yours in an easy, familiar way.
"so." he said brightly, glancing between you and sunoo, "what are we ordering?"
you snorted at his audacity, instinctively leaning into him as well, your shoulder resting against his. "me and sunoo were just thinking of getting some hot pot." you replied.
"ahhh." jungwon hummed dramatically, nodding like he was deeply impressed. "what a wonderful choice for the four of us."
you burst out laughing at that, already knowing you weren't going to get rid of them.. across the table, sunoo narrowed his eyes at ni-ki, who had unceremoniously dumped himself into the booth beside sunoo, sliding in with zero regard for personal space, much to sunoo's immediate and visible dismay. his long legs stretched out under the table, his shoulders deliberately widening as he leaned back like he was trying to occupy every inch of the seat.
sunoo gasped in offense. "ya! the audacity— move over, riki!!
ni-ki only sank further into the booth, sprawling dramatically and pretending to get even more comfortable. "nawww, lemme be comfortable man." he replied lazily, throwing an arm across the backrest behind sunoo like he owned the place.
sunoo immediately started pushing at him, trying to shove his lanky body away. "you're literally on top of me!"
"i'm not." ni-ki argued, even though he very clearly was.
jungwon snickered beside you, his arm still around your shoulders as he watched the chaos unfold across the table. you sighed, already sensing where this was heading if you didn't intervene soon. sunoo's whining was steadily increasing in pitch, and ni-ki was absolutely not helping.
before sunoo could decide that the only solution was to drag the rest of the members here and turn this into a full seven-member dinner, you quickly lifted your hand to call the waitress over.
she approached with a polite smile, though her eyes flickered briefly to the bickering boys across from you.
"we're ready to order." you said, trying to sound composed while sunoo hissed at the youngest to move.
the four of you settled down properly after that, the chaos slowly simmering into something more manageable as the kind waitress took your order. one by one, you all listed the drinks you wanted, occasionally talking over each other until you shushed them lightly. in the end, you decided to share a moderately sized hotpot among the four of you, something warm and comforting to chase away the slow creeping winter outside.
the waitress nodded kindly, scribbling everything down with practiced ease. "i'll bring it out as fast as i can." she assured you.
you all thanked her in unison, voices overlapping in a messy but polite chorus as she disappeared back toward the kitchen.
once she was gone, you leaned back into the booth and turned toward the two newcomers, narrowing your eyes slightly. "what even are you two doing here?" you asked out loud, directing the question mostly at jungwon as you shifted to face him better. "and even better question, how'd you know we were here?"
jungwon didn’t answer immediately. instead, he gave you a knowing smile that made you instantly suspicious. he reached up and started playing with your hair, twirling a strand around his fingers before giving it the gentlest tug, just enough to tease but not enough to hurt.
"c'monnnn noona." he said, tilting his head with that soft, mischievous smile of his. he placed his elbow on the table and rested his cheek against his palm, eyes never leaving yours. "i'll always know where ya wander off to~."
you sighed at his words, shaking your head even though a smile had already found its way onto your lips. it was such a typically weird, oddly endearing jungwon thing to say, half joking, half serious in a way you could never quite decipher.
across the table, ni-ki made a gagging noise while sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, but you just nudged jungwon lightly with your shoulder.
"you're so weird." you muttered fondly.
he only smiled wider.
sunoo let out a long, dramatic sigh before finally giving up, his resistance visibly dissolving as he allowed ni-ki to do whatever he wanted. he settled back against the arm ni-ki had thrown around him, looking mildly inconvenienced but no longer fighting it.
"when'd you guys leave that dogpile you were making at home anyways?" sunoo asked, glancing lazily at the two younger boys.
"not that long after you and noona left." ni-ki replied easily. "the other hyungs brought up dare or dare, and then we decided that we value our lives and don't plan on embarrassing ourselves any sooner."
you physically cringed at that, shoulders scrunching up. honestly, it was your fault for suggesting dare or dare in the first place. a dumb, manic version of truth or dare where there was no safe option, only increasingly ridiculous dares that the older boys had immediately taken an insane liking to.
your fans wouldn't even begin to imagine the wildest things their biases could come up with under that game.
"don't remind me." you muttered, covering your face briefly with your hands. "i created a bunch of monsters for ever suggesting such a game."
right then, the restaurant waitress returned, carefully placing your drinks and the hotpot setup down on the table. steam curled up into the air almost immediately, carrying the rich, mouthwatering scent of broth and spices with it.
all four of you thanked her eagerly, practically leaning forward as she finished arranging everything. the moment she stepped away, you all dug in without hesitation, your mouths already watering at the sight of the amazing food.
the warmth of the steam hit your face as you reached for your chopsticks, and just like that the air between you four was replaced by laughter, teasing, and the comforting clatter of dishes shared between you all.
as you all eat, conversation flows as easily as the steam rising from the hotpot between you. the clatter of chopsticks against bowls mixes with laughter, overlapping voices, and the occasional dramatic complaint about someone stealing the last piece of meat.
ni-ki keeps reaching across the pot without warning, nearly knocking jungwon's drink over at one point, and sunoo immediately slaps his hand away with a sharp "yah". only for ni-ki to grin and do it again two seconds later. jungwon, ever the instigator in disguise, quietly slides a piece of tofu from sunoo's bowl to yours when sunoo isn't looking, then pretends to be innocent when sunoo notices.
"who took it?" sunoo demands, eyes narrowing.
you try to keep a straight face but fail miserably, your laughter giving everything away.
"betrayal." sunoo mutters dramatically, pointing his chopsticks at you like you've committed the greatest crime.
you lean back in your seat, laughing openly now, warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the bubbling broth in front of you. jungwon's shoulder brushes against yours again as he reaches forward for more vegetables, and ni-ki nudges your foot under the table just to annoy you.
"eat more noona." ni-ki says suddenly, pushing a slice of meat into your bowl without looking at you directly. "you're not eating as much nowadays."
you blink at him for a second before rolling your eyes, though you don't push it back.
"you acting like my parent now? i thought that was my role over you." you tease.
"i'm not." he replies. "i'm just your favorite."
sunoo gasps in mock offense. "excuse me?"
jungwon hums thoughtfully. "that title is clearly mine."
you watch them argue over something so ridiculous, your laughter softening into a quiet smile as you take another bite. the conversation never stops, jumping from practice stories to dorm mayhem to plans for dessert next door.
and somewhere between the teasing and the stolen bites and the way jungwon absentmindedly refills your drink before his own, you realize that this is what you love most.
just this.
just them.
just the four of you squeezed into a corner booth, sharing food and warmth while winter settles quietly outside the window.
at one point, you grow quiet.
your chopsticks slow, your chewing softer as your eyes drift from your bowl to the three of them. you watch jungwon animatedly explaining something with his hands, ni-ki interrupting him halfway through just to argue about a detail that doesn't even matter, and sunoo reacting to both of them like he's the only sane one at the table.
they nudge each other. they laugh too loudly. ni-ki steals from sunoo's bowl again. jungwon steals it back. and you just sit there for a moment, taking it in. the way they look so comfortable, so safe.
you can't help the small smile that forms on your lips.
you don't even realize you've been staring until jungwon glances at you. "why are you looking at us like that?" he asks suspiciously.
you blink, caught, and look down at your bowl for half a second before looking back up. "i'm just… glad you guys are in my life."
the words slip out naturally, softer than the noise around you.
and just like that, the table goes quiet.
sunoo pauses mid-bite. ni-ki freezes with his chopsticks hovering in the air. jungwon's expression shifts into something unreadable for a split second.
then, almost immediately—
"wow." ni-ki says, leaning back dramatically. "why are you being so sentimental?"
"did you hit your head earlier?" sunoo adds, narrowing his eyes playfully.
jungwon nudges your shoulder lightly. "so i am noona's favourite huh?"
you roll your eyes, cheeks warming despite yourself. "forget i said anything."
but even as they tease you, you feel it. under the table, ni-ki's foot bumps gently against yours, not playful this time but grounding. sunoo nudges your knee with his own, subtle and warm, and jungwon's hand squeezes your shoulder briefly before dropping back to the table.
"we're glad you're in our lives too." jungwon says casually, like it's nothing, but his tone is honest.
"yeah." sunoo adds, looking at you with a small, shy smile he tries to hide by reaching for his drink.
ni-ki shrugs like it's clear. "obviously."
they don't make a big show of it. they don't get overly emotional. but you can feel it in the way they look at you, in the way they sit just a little closer.
your smile widens, heart feeling impossibly full as the noise and teasing slowly resume around you.
and you think, maybe being their noona isn't just about appreciating them.
maybe it's about being appreciated too.
after an amazing and unexpectedly heartfelt meal together, the four of you bundled back into your jackets and stepped outside into the cool city air. the warmth from the restaurant clung to you for only a few seconds before the winter chill wrapped around your noses and fingertips, making all of you instinctively huddle a little closer together.
despite the cold, each of the boys were happily holding a cup of ice cream, courtesy of you. and it was absolutely not because ni-ki had dramatically threatened to scream his lungs out like a neglected child in the middle of the street if you didn't treat them. absolutely not.
"best noona ever." he had declared smugly the second he got his cup.
"manipulative." you had muttered under your breath, though you were smiling anyway.
now you stood under a glowing street lamp, its warm light casting a golden halo over the four of you as you gathered close together for warmth. you had come up a few coins short for your own cup, but the boys had immediately insisted you just share theirs. so there you were, leaning in every now and then to steal a bite from jungwon's spoon, or sunoo's, or even ni-ki's when he wasn't looking.
the air puffed out in little clouds when you laughed, your shoulders brushing, your arms occasionally bumping as you all tried to fit into the small circle of warmth you created yourselves.
you watched them quietly for a moment.
sunoo's cheeks were puffed slightly as he took a big bite. jungwon was blinking slowly, savoring his like he was at some five-star dessert place instead of on the side of the road. and ni-ki pretended to be cool about it but was very clearly enjoying every single spoonful.
their cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, hair tousled by the wind, eyes bright under the streetlight.
they looked so cute it physically hurt.
you felt that fondness rise in your chest again, filling you up until you thought you might actually burst. you wished, fleetingly, that you could freeze this exact moment forever. you wished you could take a picture of them right now, just like this.
ni-ki was standing on your right, lazily eating his ice cream, when he suddenly blinked in surprise.
because you had reached up and gently cupped his cheek.
his skin was cold from the air, but warm beneath your palm, and you stroked your thumb softly over the roundness of it, unable to stop yourself.
"look at you." you cooed, voice syrupy and fond. "my baby's grown so much. you look so cute eating your ice cream."
ni-ki froze and his ears turned red and then his cheeks. he coughed awkwardly, nearly choking on his ice cream. "i'm a grown-ass man." he muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as he avoided your eyes.
you shook your head immediately. "nope. you're my baby."
jungwon and sunoo both gasped dramatically.
"nonnaaa," sunoo whined, leaning into your other side. "what about ussss?"
"yeah," jungwon added, pretending to pout. "are we not your babies too?"
you burst out laughing at the sight of all three of them suddenly competing for your affection, their tall frames bending slightly toward you as if trying to fit under your attention.
"come here~" you laughed, voice overflowing with happiness.
you stretched your arms out and pulled them into as tight of a hug as your smaller frame could manage. it was messy and unbalanced and half of ni-ki's ice cream almost tipped over, but none of you cared. their arms came around you almost immediately, warm and solid and protective in a way that made your heart ache.
their laughter mixed together, blending into one sound that felt like home. you kept cooing at them shamelessly, calling them your precious angels, your babies, your boys, ignoring their embarrassed protests.
"this is nice." jungwon laughed softly into your hair.
"this is so cringe." ni-ki mumbled, though he didn't pull away.
sunoo tightened his arms around you just a little more.
standing there under the street lamp, surrounded by cold air and warm bodies and melting ice cream, you realized something.
being their noona was a rollercoaster.
it was loud and exhausting and chaotic. it meant dogpiles and teasing and migraines and being bullied out of your own peaceful dinners. it meant worrying about them and scolding them and sometimes feeling like you had three oversized children attached to your hip.
but it also meant this.
it meant warm shoulders and shared desserts. it meant quiet reassurance in practice rooms and loud laughter in restaurants. it meant being looked at like you mattered, like you were theirs just as much as they were yours.
and honestly?
you think you won at life by being so.
author's note: ya this took way too long to come out OOP. sigh i love the maknae line sm. i had different plots but i couldnt do them cuz of the writing limit (no thanks to tumblr haish) so i'll save them for another time. kinda wish i wrote this better but i was limited with time. thank you all for being so patient with me. also ngl when i wrote in the last author note that i would write about some 'big fight' i may or may not have half hearted just thrown that out without thinking much and then a lot of u guys became excited for it and then i was like omg how and where am i gonna fit that in XD so i just threw it in here with wonnie hope that's alright TT also this i am going to be on an hiatus from writing until further notice, just until im done with exams, but i'll still be lingering on tumblr and my ask box is always open :)
thank you for reading! reblog, like and comment if you liked this!
there's only so much manspreading and manhandling you can handle before you finally loose it.
w.c.: 13k+
themes: sfw, cursing, humor, teasing, reader is enhypen's 8th female member, reader getting frustrated with the boys cuz they're being... ya know... boys lmao, reader gets hurt in the end from pain, the enha boys can be in any age range you want but just imagine you're around the same age as the jaykehoon trio
note: check out my other works! (masterlist) absolutely NO plagiarizing my work.
it's a friday night, which in theory means relief. the end of schedules, the end of alarms, the beginning of the sacred two-day illusion where you all pretend you're normal people with normal lives. heeseung had suggested a movie, and somehow that turned into all eight of you piling into the living room with popcorn, blankets, and the collective decision that tonight's choice would be legally blonde.
which should've been perfect.
it would've been perfect, actually, if you weren't currently being crushed to death.
you're sitting in the middle of the couch, because you made the fatal mistake of discovering weeks ago that the middle cushion is objectively the most comfortable. it's the one that doesn't sag, the one with the best view of the tv, the one where you can lean back without your neck doing that weird angle thing. you had claimed it innocently at first, not knowing it would become the most contested piece of real estate in the entire dorm.
now, on either side of you, are sunghoon and ni-ki.
sunghoon is long and heavy. that's the first problem. all limbs and broad shoulders and that effortless way of taking up space without even trying. ni-ki is worse, because he's not only tall, but restless, constantly shifting and stretching, slouching deeper into the couch like he's trying to merge with it on a molecular level. and somehow, despite there being a perfectly good amount of space on either side of them, both of them have decided that the optimal seating position is… directly on top of you.
not metaphorically, but literally physically.
their thighs press into yours, their shoulders lean in, their weight sinks into the cushions until you feel yourself being slowly absorbed by the sofa, compressed between two warm, heavy bodies like you're the filling in some extremely unfair human sandwich.
you glance around.
jay and jake are on the floor, backs against the couch, legs stretched out comfortably. jungwon has claimed an entire beanbag by himself, curled up like a cat. sunoo is cross-legged on a cushion, blanket neatly over his lap, and heeseung is lounging in an armchair with one leg hooked over the side like he owns the place.
everyone has space.
everyone looks relaxed.
everyone is laughing.
and you are fighting for oxygen.
you shift slightly, trying to reclaim at least one inch of personal space, but ni-ki just slouches more, his shoulder dipping further into yours. sunghoon, completely unbothered, leans back too, his arm brushing yours as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
you stare at the screen, where elle woods is doing something iconic and pink, and you realize you are the only person in the room not laughing.
mostly because you can't breathe properly.
you huff, not even trying to hide it. "can you both move. like. a lot?"
ni-ki doesn't even look at you. he snorts, eyes still on the movie, lips curling into that annoying grin. "huh? did you hear something?"
sunghoon hums in agreement, distracted with his gaze fixed on the screen. "yeah, i thought i heard something too."
ni-ki tilts his head slightly, fake-listening. "sunghoon-hyung… since when could this sofa talk?"
you turn your head slowly to look at him. "i'm not the sofa."
sunghoon finally glances down, blinking like he's just now registering your existence. "oh." he reaches over without moving his body at all, grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting on your lap, and casually pops it into his mouth. "was that you y/n? damn, i thought it was a mosquito."
you look down at the popcorn. then at sunghoon, then at ni-ki, who is now actively leaning more of his weight onto you, clearly entertained. you sink deeper into the couch, trapped between them with your arms pinned and legs squished. your role in this group suddenly very clear.
you are not a person.
you are a piece of furniture.
you start grumbling under your breath, shifting again, this time actually trying to shove at sunghoon's side with what little leverage you have. your elbow presses uselessly into his ribs, but all it earns you is an amused exhale through his nose, like your just as funny as the movie that their watching.
ni-ki clicks his tongue, finally looking down at you. "wow, you're so noisy noona. sofas these days are really high maintenance, huh."
you snap your head toward him, eyes narrowing, already lifting one leg with the very real intention of kicking him straight in the shin. you're halfway there when suddenly sunghoon's arm comes down around your shoulders, hooking you in easily like you weigh nothing and pulling you flush into his side.
it's unfair, actually. how easy it is for him. how your entire attempt at rebellion is instantly neutralized by one arm.
"be a dear and feed me some popcorn." he says, not even looking at you, his attention still on the screen.
you stare at him for a second, deadpan, before grabbing a single piece and launching it straight at his face.
it bounces off his cheek and falls into his lap.
sunghoon blinks. then he tuts, acting disappointed all while fighting a smile. "what happened, y/n-ya. you used to be so sweet to me."
you groan, tipping your head back against the couch like you're appealing to the universe itself. "i used to have personal space too."
ni-ki laughs, loud and obnoxious, clearly enjoying this way too much. you're about to argue back when you realize there is, in fact, one last card you can play.
"heeseung oppa!" you call out, raising your voice just enough. "tell these two to let me watch the movie in peace."
you look over at him with so much hope. he's the eldest. he's responsible. surely he'll be on your side.
heeseung doesn't look away from the screen. "huh? what—yeah stop annoying her, you two— oh my god that guy is such a dick to elle."
everyone else laughs.
heeseung leans forward in his chair, fully invested in the movie now. "no because why would he say that to her. that’s actually insane."
you just stare at him. disbelief settling deep into your bones.
"oh my god." you mutter.
sunghoon's arm tightens slightly around you like he's getting more comfortable, and ni-ki's knee nudges into your thigh again. the popcorn bowl is still on your lap and your legs are still trapped. your backup plan has officially failed.
you sink back into the cushions defeated, surrounded by laughter and you think, not for the first time tonight, that being the only girl in a house full of boys means you are constantly outnumbered, outmatched, and—apparently—completely ignored.
the movie continues.
you're all out for dinner after what feels like the longest practice session known to mankind. the kind where your body is sore in places you didn't even know existed, where your brain feels like static, and the only thing keeping you upright is the promise of food. real food. warm food. possibly sweet food. the restaurant is small but cozy, tucked into a quiet street, and the moment you step inside, the smell hits you—fried, buttery, sweet, savory, everything all at once. it's enough to make all eight of your stomachs grumble in perfect, tragic unison. everyone practically collapses into a big table in the corner, far enough from the other customers that you can finally take off your hats and masks without worrying. jackets are draped over chairs, beanies tossed onto the table, shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. you slide into the seat between jake and jungwon, already feeling your mood improve just from the thought of eating something that isn't a protein bar or a convenience store sandwich.
the restaurant aunty waddles over with a notepad and the warmest smile you've ever seen, eyes lighting up the moment she see you all. "aiyo, so handsome! and pretty!" she gushes, looking around the table. "all of you, really good-looking."
everyone laughs politely and bow a little in thanks. you smile back at her, and while the others start listing off their orders—this, that, extra rice, no vegetables—you skim the menu again, your eyes immediately landing on the dessert section.
"um," you say softly, leaning forward a little. "do you still have the cheesecake aunty?"
the aunty hums, tapping her pen against the notepad. "ohh, the cheesecake ah? that one is very famous here you know. sells out almost every day." she looks genuinely thoughtful for a moment, then her face brightens. "but today… i think there is one piece left."
your eyes widen. "really?"
she nods, lowering her voice like she's about to tell you a secret. "since you all are idols, and you came to my restaurant, i am very honoured. i will save the last piece for you, okay?"
you visibly light up. "thank you so much!" you say immediately, probably a little too enthusiastically. "thank you thank you thank you, i really appreciate it."
you even do a tiny bow in your seat, hands pressed together dramatically and the aunty laughs, waving you off like you're adorable instead of exhausted and desperate for sugar.
"okay, okay." she says, scribbling it down. "last piece of cheesecake, just for you."
you watch her walk away, feeling like you've just won the lottery.
you turn back to the table, already smiling to yourself, mentally planning how slow you're going to eat it and how you're going to savour every bite. this is going to be your little reward for surviving the day.
sunoo hums at you. "cheesecake?"
you nod, visibly happy. "and the last slice too at that one."
jungwon looks impressed. "noice."
jake who's still next to you, suddenly tilts his body to face you and leans forward. he rests his elbows on the table, fingers steepled together in front of his face like he's about to negotiate a billion dollar business deal, eyes fixed on you with that stupidly serious expression he only ever uses when he's about to be annoying on purpose. he opens his mouth.
"you mean our cheesecake."
you look at him and your expression goes unimpressed. "don't you dare sim jaeyun."
he only shrugs, shoulders lifting lazily, but doesn't move from his position. his fingers stay pressed together. his posture stays firm, like this conversation is far from over.
"trade offer." he says smoothly. "three bites of your cheesecake, and i'll give you my side dishes."
you scoff, rolling your eyes. "you don't even like sweet things."
"true." he admits easily, not even pretending otherwise. "but even i won't deny how appetizing it looks on the menu."
you glance down at the picture printed there again, the glossy slice of cheesecake mocked up perfectly under warm lighting and you sigh, already losing the will to fight. "you can have just one bite. one. because it looks small."
jake's eyes light up. "new trade offer." he says instantly. "one bite for jay's whole dinner."
you turn to look at jay who's sitting at the end of the table and halfway through scrolling on his phone, minding his own business.
"leave me alone bro." he says without even looking up.
"yeah, that's not happening." you snort waving a hand in jake's face.
jake doesn't miss a beat. "okay, okay," he says, fingers still steepled. "final offer."
you brace yourself.
"your whole cheesecake." he continues solemnly, "for a sip of my water."
there's a choked laugh from jungwon next to you and you narrow your eyes at the offensive offer.
"take a good look at my face and tell me what you think the answer to that is going to be, jake."
jake studies you like he's genuinely considering it, gaze flicking over your expression.
he grins. "your face is telling me that i'm the most handsomest guy on earth and that it would be your pleasure to give me your cheesecake."
you let out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a cry for help, tipping your head back against the booth trying to hide a smile. "you're actually unbearable."
conversation flows easily after that, just tired jokes and half-finished sentences and everyone talking over each other because no one actually has the energy to wait their turn anymore.
you're mid-laugh about something heeseung said when the restaurant aunty returns, waddling over with a tray balanced expertly on one arm, steam rising from the dishes like a promise.
"your food is here." she announces brightly.
one by one, she places the bowls down in front of everyone, warm and fragrant, the kind of food that feels heavy in a comforting way. rice, noodles, soup, side dishes filling the table until there's barely any space left.
and then she reaches you. she sets your bowl down first, then, very carefully, places a small plate beside it.
your cheesecake.
it looks exactly like the picture. maybe even better. creamy, pale, with a thin golden crust and a little drizzle on top that catches the light.
"there we go," she says fondly. "the last cheesecake. of the day."
you look up at her, eyes probably sparkling like a cartoon character.
she gives you a little wink. "enjoy, okay?"
"thank you so much." you say again, automatically, like you're afraid it might disappear if you don't express enough gratitude.
she laughs, patting the table once before waddling off to attend to other customers, leaving you staring at the plate like it's a sacred object.
jungwon clears his throat and lifts his glass. "okay everyone. we worked really hard today, so let's eat well. we still have practice tomorrow, so we need energy."
everyone groans but still follow his lead, lifting their glasses.
"cheers."
"to food."
"to surviving."
"to y/n's cheesecake."
you give jake a side eye.
glasses clink together in the middle of the table, a soft chorus of tired cheers, and then finally everyone digs in.
chopsticks move and spoons clink. conversations resume between mouthfuls of food. jay immediately comments on how good his dish is, sunoo starts talking about how hungry he was, ni-ki is already on his second bite before anyone else has even properly started.
you take your first bite of your meal, warmth spreading through you instantly, and for a brief beautiful moment, everything is perfect.
you glance down at your cheesecake again.
untouched and safe.
you relax a little in your seat, shoulders dropping as you focus on eating, telling yourself you'll save it for later as a reward. something to look forward to once you're done with the main course.
you take another bite of your food.
out of the corner of your eye, you see movement.
you look up to see jake's fork is hovering suspiciously close to your plate.
you clink your spoon down into your bowl. "jake, please."
he freezes for half a second, then immediately raises both his hands in surrender, palms facing you like he's being arrested.
"ok, ok, fine." he says, laughing lightly. "i won't."
you hold his gaze for a moment longer, still suspicious, then look back down at your bowl.
you take another bite, then another, letting yourself relax again, tuning back into the noise of the table around you. everyone's talking over each other, cutlery clinking, chairs shifting slightly in the cramped booth. it's warm and crowded, loud in a familiar way.
a few minutes pass and you're mid-chew when you feel something brush against your leg under the table.
you barely react. all eight of you are squeezed into the same booth, knees bumping, feet tangling, legs constantly nudging and shifting every time someone moves. it's been happening since the moment you all sat down, so you don't think much of it and you keep eating.
then it happens again.
this time the kick is a little firmer, more deliberate, pressing lightly against your shin instead of just accidentally bumping it.
you pause, spoon hovering near your mouth.
your brows knit together slightly as you lift your head.
sunoo is sitting directly in front of you, chopsticks in his hand, halfway through picking up another bite of his food. his lips are pressed together, like he's trying very hard not to smile.
he notices you looking and immediately glances to the side, then back at you, then to the side again, making obvious shifty eyes before subtly tilting his head towards your left.
towards jake.
confused, you follow his gaze and turn your head.
and you gasp out loud.
jake has your cheesecake stabbed clean through with his fork lifted off the plate, and he's in the middle of lowering it straight into his mouth, which is already wide open like he's about to take the biggest bite of his life.
you cry out his name in pure shock, the sound loud and instinctive and immediately lunge forward, reaching out to grab the hand that's holding your cheesecake.
"jake!"
your fingers barely graze him before he reacts, quick and infuriatingly smooth, switching the fork to his other hand—the one farther away from you—lifting it just out of reach. the cheesecake wobbles dangerously on the fork, and that only makes you panic more.
"give it back!" you yell, already grabbing onto his arm, fingers curling into his sleeve as you try to pull him closer to you.
you grab onto his arm instead, your hand clutching at his sleeve as you try to drag him closer to you, stretching forward in your seat so you can reach for the other hand now.
jake bursts out laughing. like full-on laughing, shoulders shaking, clearly finding this way too entertaining.
"no way, no way," he says between laughs. "you're actually fighting me for it."
you lean over even more, half out of your seat now, trying desperately to reach around him. "you're going to drop it!"
he shifts, and suddenly his free arm comes around your waist, firm and unyielding, holding you in place against his side. you freeze for half a second, completely caught off guard, and in that moment he stretches the other arm out, lifting the fork higher, further away from you, the cheesecake still skewered on the end.
"jAKE—" you whine, voice going higher with frustration. "you're so annoying—"
he's still laughing, not even struggling, not even using much effort, just casually keeping you trapped with one arm while holding your dessert out of reach with the other like it's nothing.
you try to twist out of his hold, pushing at his chest, squirming against his side, but it's useless. he doesn't even budge.
everyone else at the table is watching now, some of them laughing, some of them just staring like it's the most entertaining thing they've seen all night.
"you're literally stealing from me." you protest, trying again to grab his arm.
"i'm negotiating." he corrects, still smiling.
you let out another frustrated sound, half yell, half whine, your hands gripping his sleeve like that might somehow help. "you're manhandling me for cheesecake, this is insane."
he just tightens his hold slightly, effortless, still stretching the fork away from you.
"and you're losing." he says with a smirk.
jake hooks his leg over yours underneath the table, effectively pinning you in place. you squirm uselessly, your hands still clutching at his sleeve, but the combined force of his arm around your waist and his leg keeping yours trapped means you can’t move an inch.
jungwon, sitting next to you on your other side, glances at the cheesecake with a cautious expression. "uhhh… hyung, maybe you shouldn't wave it around like that—"
jake barely registers his warning before in one horrifying instant, the cheesecake suspended precariously on the fork, gives way. the delicate slice splits in half, wobbling for a heartbeat in the air, and then both pieces fall flat onto the table with a sickening little plop.
you freeze, mouth open, eyes glued to the ruined dessert.
jake blinks, momentarily silent, fork still in hand, staring at the fallen halves as if he can't believe it either.
you just stare at the cheesecake, or what's left of it.
your shoulders slump visibly, all the energy draining out of you at once, and you go quiet. just… small. defeated. your lips press into a thin line, a frown settling on your face as you reach for the tissue box on the table.
you don't say anything. you just pull out a few tissues and start carefully dabbing at the mess, wiping up the cream that's smeared across the table, gathering the broken pieces like you're cleaning up something fragile instead of just dessert.
around you, the table has gone strangely silent. everyone's watching, their eyes flick between you, the ruined cheesecake, and jake, who has completely stopped laughing now. his posture is different, shoulders a little stiff, mouth slightly open like he wants to say something but doesn't know how.
he swallows.
"uhm…" he starts, voice awkward. "i'm sorry?"
you don't respond. you keep your eyes on the table, on the tissues in your hands, focusing on cleaning instead of looking at him. the frown on your face doesn't go away.
sunghoon snorts quietly from beside you. "wow," he says amused. "you really did it now."
jake immediately shoots him a glare. "shut up."
jake exhales, running a hand through his hair, and then gently takes the tissues from your hands without saying anything. his movements are slower now, careful as he starts cleaning the table himself, wiping up the remaining mess in your stead.
you don't look at him. you just slump back into your chair, arms crossing loosely over your stomach, still visibly upset.
after a moment, jake glances at you, sending you a small guilty smile. "sorry," he says again, quieter this time. "i didn't mean to be so rough. with you… or the cake."
you don't reply.
he clears his throat. "i'll get you anything you want from the convenience store on the way home. i promise."
you finally sigh, shoving his shoulder weakly with your own. not hard, just enough to show you're still annoyed.
he chuckles softly at that, relieved, and reaches over to ruffle your hair.
you let it go that night.
but deep down, you still wish you had gotten to eat that cheesecake.
you're all sitting in enhypen's waiting room, getting your last mic checks done before heading to the studio for the latest en o'clock episode.
the room is buzzing with life, the kind of controlled chaos that always happens right before filming. the director's voice carries across the room, calling out last-minute reminders about timing and segments, while staff move in and out, fixing hair, adjusting outfits and clipping on mics, making sure everyone looks presentable under studio lights.
you're sitting on one end of the sofa, sipping your favourite drink, the cold sweetness helping settle your nerves as you quietly pump yourself up in your head. you watch the others from where you are, half-listening to the noise around you, trying to stay in that calm, focused state before cameras turn on.
and then jay and heeseung drop down on either side of you.
they're both laughing about something, clearly mid-conversation and completely absorbed in whatever joke just happened. the sofa dips slightly under their weight, the space around you shrinking instantly.
on instinct, you draw your knees a little closer together, shifting subtly to make room for them.
big mistake.
over the next few minutes, without even realising it, both of them start to spread out. jay leans back, one leg sliding outward, his knee slowly drifting into your space. heeseung mirrors him on the other side, stretching his legs forward with his thigh pressing lightly against yours.
you stay still at first, thinking they'll notice.
they don't.
they keep talking and laughing, nodding along to each other, completely unaware of how much space they're slowly taking up. their shoulders relax, their posture gets looser, and you find yourself getting pushed further and further into the middle, your own space disappearing inch by inch.
your knees are now pressed tightly together, your legs trapped between theirs, your shoulders tucked in awkwardly while they sit comfortably, sprawled out like they own the entire sofa.
you glance down at your lap, then to the side, then back at the front, realising with a quiet, sinking feeling that once again, you've somehow become the smallest person in the biggest space, and neither of them has noticed at all.
you let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, the kind that's meant to be heard.
neither of them reacts.
you glance to your left then to your right. their knees are still creeping further apart, their thighs pressing closer into your space, and you're now practically folded into yourself in the middle.
"…excuse me?"
this time, they finally notice.
jay looks down first, then heeseung, both of them registering the way your knees are pressed together and how their legs have completely boxed you in. there's a split second of silence before they both grin.
instead of moving back, they do the exact opposite.
jay spreads his legs even wider. heeseung mirrors him immediately, leaning back like he's settling into a beach chair.
you stare at them in disbelief. "are you serious right now?"
they burst out laughing.
"stoppp." you say, louder now. "you're literally squashing me!"
still laughing, they finally close their legs again, shifting back into their seats. you huff dramatically, rolling your shoulders and leaning forward in your spot and bringing your drink up to your lips.
you take a sip, eyes narrowing. "children."
behind you, jay and heeseung have already laid back against the sofa, their conversation resuming like nothing happened, voices overlapping as they talk about the shoot.
and then you feel it again. a light knock against your thighs.
you look down.
it's their knees. again.
somehow without realizing it, both of them have started spreading out once more, their legs drifting open until they're once again invading your space.
you whip your head around. "what the— what is wrong with you guys? you're doing it again!"
jay and heeseung pause mid-conversation and look at you.
there's a beat before they both start laughing.
heeseung, clearly enjoying this way too much, lifts the leg closest to you and casually throws it over yours.
you yelp as it lands, the sudden weight making you jerk forward, your drink sloshing dangerously close to spilling.
"oppa!"
you shoot him an incredulous look, eyes wide with one hand instinctively tightening around your cup. he just grins at you, completely unbothered, his leg still draped over yours like it belongs there.
jay decides to copy heeseung.
you feel it before you even see it, his leg lifting and then landing over your other leg, effectively trapping you completely. your head snaps to the other side, eyes wide as you stare at him.
"…really?"
jay just shrugs, lips twitching like he's proud of himself.
now you're fully stuck, both of their legs draped over yours with their combined weight pinning you in place while they sit there like this is the most natural thing in the world. you try to wiggle your knees, but there's literally nowhere to go.
from the corner of your eye, you notice movement.
a cameraman is approaching, camera already lifted, lens pointed straight at the three of you.
oh no.
you instantly recognise the look. this is definitely one of those behind-the-scenes shots, the kind that always end up in a separate clip with some stupidly cute title.
you slowly turn your head toward the camera, completely deadpan, then let your shoulders slump in defeat. you give it an exaggerated, tired look. "engenes… do you see what i have to deal with all the time?"
you pout slightly for effect, eyes flicking down at the situation and then back up at the lens.
the cameraman clearly finds this hilarious, because he starts moving around you in a dramatic little circle, zooming in and out like he's filming a documentary. first a close-up of your resigned face, then he tilts the camera down to your legs, zooming in on how both jay and heeseung have theirs thrown over yours like human seatbelts.
jay notices and laughs. "wow, this is gonna make the cut for sure."
heeseung leans closer to you, still not moving his leg. "you're welcome. free content."
you turn back to the camera, fully committing now, hands gesturing wildly as you start complaining.
"i'm serious, they don't even realise it." you say pointing down at their legs. "your favourite oppars love manspreading like it's their full-time job. nobody's business. zero shame—"
before you can finish, you suddenly feel hands on your shoulders.
"yah, come here." heeseung says, already pulling you back.
"don't lie to engenes." jay adds at the same time.
you barely have time to react. in a panic, you quickly lean forward and carefully place your drink on the small table in front of you before they drag you backwards, smushing you between them on the sofa.
you let out a long, dramatic groan. "oh my god—this is exactly what i mean!"
you're now fully squashed, your back pressed into heeseung's chest, jay leaning in from the other side, their legs still thrown over yours like nothing has changed.
both of them immediately turn to the camera, suddenly putting on the most ridiculous innocent voices.
"we do not do that." heeseung says, shaking his head like he's deeply offended.
"yeah, this is all acting." jay adds, nodding seriously. "she's exaggerating for content."
the cameraman zooms out, wide shot now, clearly capturing the full scene of you completely sandwiched between two tall men, legs overlapped and arms around you, zero personal space left.
the visual evidence is undeniable.
jay and heeseung see it on the small monitor and immediately start scrambling to save themselves.
heeseung laughs awkwardly. "okay but when you put it like this, it looks worse than it is—"
jay quickly adds, "it's the camera angle. bad angle."
you just stare at the lens with the most tired, betrayed expression.
the cameraman shakes slightly, clearly laughing behind the camera, while jay and heeseung continue talking over each other, desperately trying to explain themselves as you remain squished in the middle, completely proving your point.
you let out another sigh, one that's way too tired for someone who's supposed to be about to film a fun show and you look straight into the camera again.
"engenes, this is not the first time." you say seriously. "i swear i've seen a compilation on youtube before. like—" you squint a little, pretending to read an imaginary title in the air. "10 minutes of y/n from enhypen being the victim of manspreading."
jay's head snaps toward you instantly. "ain't no way that exists."
heeseung laughs in disbelief. "yeah, you're lying. nobody made that."
you slowly turn your head back to the camera, still stuck between them, and give it the most knowing look you possibly can. the kind that says 'we both know there is'.
the cameraman zooms in slightly on your face.
"it exists." you say in a flat tone.
jay scoffs. "no it doesn't."
"show me." heeseung adds, clearly still in denial.
you don't even argue or make a move. you just keep staring into the lens, deadpan, lips pressed together in a line.
the silence stretches for a second.
then jay mutters, "…why do i feel like it actually does."
pretty soon it's time to film, and all eight of you shuffle out into the studio, automatically forming a messy line in front of the dozens of cameras pointed your way. the backdrop is the usual clean white, but it's been dressed up with colourful banners and random furniture props, a bright carpet placed on the floor right behind you like it's waiting to become a battlefield.
today's concept is clearly another team game.
the moment the director explains it, the boys start hyping each other up like it's the olympics, and before you can even process what's happening, hands are suddenly slapping down on your shoulders from behind.
"let's gooo!"
you stumble forward a little as they shake you back and forth, completely unprepared for the force. "yah—!" you groan, trying to keep your balance. "why are you all so violent?"
you turn toward the director with a dramatic wince, rubbing your shoulders. "director-nim, please… we all know i get bruises. these boys do not play when it comes to games and prizes."
immediately, the air fills with noise.
"that's not true!"
"you're exaggerating again!"
"we're very gentle!"
sunghoon for some reason starts flexing his arms, rolling his shoulders like he's about to enter a bodybuilding competition.
ni-ki runs over in front of you, fists raised like a cartoon boxer. "come on noona, you know the drill!"
you just stare at him, then turn your head to look straight into the nearest camera, completely dead inside. your expression says it all.
behind the scenes, the director and staff burst out laughing, some of them already shaking their heads, while the cameras keep rolling, capturing the you in the middle, surrounded by seven overly competitive boys who look way too excited for what's supposed to be a "fun little game."
a good few rounds later, you honestly don't even remember what the original rules were anymore.
there were teams at the start. you're pretty sure of that. there was some kind of point system, maybe a timer, definitely props involved at some stage — but all of that has long been thrown out the window. somewhere along the way, the boys got too competitive, the teams dissolved, and now it's just pure disarray.
everyone is technically still cheering for their 'teammates', but at the same time, they're all fending for themselves, switching sides whenever it suits them while yelling contradictory advice across the studio.
the colourful carpet in the middle of the set has become the main battlefield. you're standing on it now, feet planted shakily, knees bent as you hunch closer to the ground like you're preparing for impact. your hands are raised in front of you instinctively, palms open, half defensive and half ready to block whatever's coming next.
sunoo is directly in front of you, mirroring your stance. both of you look equally uncertain.
at some point — you're not even sure when — the rules had apparently changed into this: whoever could get the other person on the ground the fastest.
you distinctly remember protesting. you remember sunoo protesting too. both of you had tried to speak up, voices overlapping as you told them that this was absolutely not what you signed up for. but your voices had been completely drowned out by six other boys shouting over each other, already hyped, already arguing about techniques like they were in a wrestling match.
the director had tried at first. there were warnings, there were half-hearted attempts to bring back the original rules, a few "guys, guys—" thrown into the air. but eventually, even she had given up.
with a resigned laugh, she'd waved her hand and told them, "if that's what you want to do, then… sure. just don't get injured."
and now here you are.
standing on soft, colourful carpet, surrounded by yelling, laughing, overly excited boys, watching you face off against sunoo like it's some kind of survival game you never agreed to be part of.
sunoo gives you a nervous little smile. "we can… go easy, right?"
you nod immediately. "yeah, easy. very easy."
jungwon's voice cuts through the noise, loud and clear as he starts counting down, everyone immediately joining in like it's some kind of sports event.
"three… two… one—"
"go!"
you and sunoo both freeze for half a second, just staring at each other.
then it starts.
if you could even call it that.
you both move at the same time, but it's awkward and hesitant, like two people who absolutely do not want to hurt each other. your hands reach out and land on his sleeves, his hands grip lightly at your wrists, and the two of you just… shuffle in place. there's no real force, no real strategy. just a lot of nervous laughter and uncoordinated limbs.
you try to push him a little, but your feet slide instead. sunoo tries to pull you, but immediately stops himself like he's afraid he’s being too rough.
to everyone watching, it's painfully obvious.
this is not a fight.
this is two people politely pretending to wrestle.
the boys around you start laughing almost instantly.
"what is this?"
"are they slow dancing?"
"this is actually so sad."
you and sunoo are still grabbing at each other, but it's clearly more comedic than competitive, both of you smiling, half-apologising every time you accidentally tug too hard.
and then—
"okay that's enough." sunghoon says.
before either of you can react, he just reaches out and pushes sunoo to the side with one hand. not aggressively, just casually, like he's moving a pillow out of the way.
sunoo stumbles a step. "hey!"
and suddenly, it's just you standing directly in front of sunghoon.
you look up at him slowly, warily, as he cracks his knuckles one by one, the sound way too loud in your ears.
you groan. "absolutely not."
without thinking twice, you turn on your heel and bolt, running straight to jake and hiding behind him like he's your personal human shield.
"there is no way in hell i'm going against him!" you yell, gripping onto jake's hoodie for dear life.
sunghoon, meanwhile, strikes his classic ridiculous bodybuilder pose, flexing dramatically for the cameras. he points one hand straight at you, chin lifted like he's in some kind of action movie.
"get your butt over here y/n."
you peek out from behind jake. "i'm obviously gonna lose!"
"i mean yeah that's true. but come here so i can prove it to the cameras first-hand."
you open your mouth to protest again, but you feel jake shift underneath you. you look up just in time to see him turning around, shooting you the biggest grin.
"sorry." he says, not sorry at all.
before you can react, he grabs you around the waist and lifts you clean off your feet. you yelp, instinctively kicking your legs in the air.
"jake! jAKE—put me down!"
he just laughs, waddling forward with you like you weigh nothing, carrying you straight toward sunghoon while you cling onto his shoulders, legs flailing uselessly.
the studio erupts into laughter, the cameras zooming in as you're literally being delivered to your doom.
jake plops you down gently on your feet right in front of sunghoon, and the second your toes touch the mat, your arms shoot up instinctively, palms out in defense. your stomach flips; you know exactly what's coming.
sunghoon turns slowly toward you, a glint in his eyes that screams mischief and determination all at once. there's hint of playfulness here, and instinctively you freeze for a second, trying to read him.
before you can even gather your thoughts or argue, jay's voice cuts through, loud and theatrical: "three… two… one—GO!"
sunghoon doesn't wait another second and lunges.
you yelp as his body collides with yours, knocking the wind out of you slightly, and you both tumble backward onto the soft, colorful mat the directors had wisely placed. your butt hits first with a loud uff, and then your arms and legs go into automatic defensive mode, scrambling for purchase.
the boys around you erupt with cheers, clapping and shouting, voices blending into a chaotic motivational chorus: "come on y/n! don't let him win!" "beat him!" "you got this!"
you immediately spring into action, shoving off the mat, twisting, pushing, trying to resist, trying to stay upright, anything to prevent him from getting the upper hand.
but sunghoon—oh god, sunghoon—is like a force of nature. he grabs your wrists, pulling your arms outward, trying to manipulate your body so he can gently but firmly roll you onto your back. every time you twist, every time you shift your weight, he adjusts instantly, his grip like iron but somehow smooth, almost effortless.
"hah—no!" you grunt, squirming, wriggling your legs like a frantic little crab. you're digging your heels into the mat, trying to create friction, trying to push him off, but his body weight presses down against yours, unrelenting.
he shifts his knee to pin one side of your torso, the other hand guiding your shoulder, inching you toward the mat. his strength is ridiculous—you can feel every muscle working under his skin as he maneuvers you, and try as you might, you're constantly being redirected, manhandled with terrifying precision.
"uh uh, not so fast." he mutters with a grin, clearly enjoying this far too much.
you're twisting and turning, trying to throw him off balance. your fingers clawing at his forearms. "i'm not—oh god—i'm not going down!" you yell, though your voice cracks under the effort.
sunghoon doesn't hold back. he's strong, precise, and mercilessly efficient as he maneuvers you across the mat. you twist, kick, and push with everything you've got, but his hands and body weight are unyielding. with one last push and a subtle shift of his hip, he finally gets you onto your back.
you land with a soft thud on the padded mat, and the sudden jolt makes you wince involuntarily. your back aches sharply, even through the padding, but sunghoon is already leaping to his feet, pumping the air and yelling with triumph. he's too busy celebrating to notice your discomfort.
jungwon, heeseung, and sunoo plop down beside you, trying to make it lighthearted. "hey, that was a good try!" heeseung says, patting your shoulders. sunoo laughs. "you fought well!"
but their hands pause mid-pat as they notice the way you're grimacing, your eyebrows furrowed and your back slightly tensing as you try to adjust. they exchange quick, concerned glances.
across the mat, sunghoon and the other boys are still cheering, laughing, and high-fiving each other over their 'victory.' sunghoon suddenly bounds over to you, chest puffed with pride, ready to brag about his win.
he stops abruptly, his eyes catching your slight wince as you shift on the mat. his smile fades instantly. "oh—y/n, wait." he says, crouching down beside you. "are you okay?"
his hands are gentle as he helps you sit up, one hand supporting your back and the other your arm. your back strains a little against his grip, making your eyebrows draw together involuntarily. you let out a small, tight sigh but wave your hand dismissively. "i'm fine, really." you tell him, forcing your voice casual.
he nods, still watching you carefully, then stands with you, letting the moment pass. the rest of the shoot continues as normal, cameras rolling, boys laughing and competing in other games.
you move through the rest of the activities with your usual energy, but you have to be careful not to let the pain in your back show on camera. your posture is slightly more guarded, your movements more careful, and your smiles just a touch less bright than usual.
though everything seems fine on screen, the soreness lingers, and your mood that day is dampened ever so slightly.
you're crouched down on one knee by the door, fingers fumbling with your shoelaces, focused on getting the knot just right. the morning sunlight filters through the dorm window, lighting up the room in warm hues. you're all about to head out for the night, when you hear a voice beside you.
"uh… y/n?"
you glance up, squinting slightly in surprise, and see heeseung standing next to you. there's a hint of confusion in his voice.
"that's… not how you tie your laces." he says, tilting his head, eyes focused on your shoes. "you should tie it like the way i do it, it's more efficient."
you blink at him from the ground, hands still holding the ends of your laces. "this is how i always do it." you reply softly, genuinely confused. it's worked for you every single time and it gets the job done just fine.
heeseung crouches a little, his expression earnest. "no, see, the right way—"
you wave him off gently. "it's alright, i've got it."
but before you can finish, you feel a sudden tug at your arm. you gasp instinctively as he pulls you up to your feet, steadying you with his hand. before you can react, he crouches down quickly, fingers deftly undoing your laces and starting to re-tie them in his 'correct' way.
"this," he says with a small nod, "is how you do it."
you glance down, seeing the top of his head as he leans close to your shoes all focused. your arm tingles from where he held it, and you instinctively rub it, a frown forming on your lips.
you decide not to say anything. he means well, you tell yourself. it's just one of those moments with heeseung — overly helpful, a little overbearing, but full of earnest intention. so you stay quiet, watching him work.
it's chilly the moment you all step outside.
the kind of cold that isn't biting, but enough that the air feels sharper in your lungs, enough that you can see faint clouds of breath when the boys talk. the night market is lit up with warm yellow lights, food stalls lining both sides of the street, the smell of fried snacks and sugar and spice mixing together in the air.
you're walking with the boys in a loose cluster, moving from stall to stall, stopping whenever something catches someone's eye. thankfully, it's less crowded than usual, so there aren't too many people around to recognize you all. just enough space to breathe and wander a little freely without being swarmed.
you stop at a stall selling those long spiral potatoes on sticks, all of you gathering around the front while the boys start talking over each other, asking the stall uncle about prices, flavours, whether they're freshly made.
you hang back slightly, standing behind them with your hands tucked into your jacket pockets, just looking around at the lights and people passing by.
your jacket isn't zipped. not because you forgot, you just genuinely don't feel cold.
you're perfectly fine like this.
then you hear, "y/n."
you turn your head over your shoulder and see jay looking at you from the stall. he's not even looking at the food anymore, just staring at your jacket, eyebrows a little furrowed.
he points at his own chest, then makes a zipping motion with his hand.
zip up.
you blink at him, then shake your head. "i'm not cold."
jay frowns immediately, like he doesn't believe you for a second. "the wind's picking up." he says, nodding toward the street. "zip it up."
you let out a small huff. "it's warm enough. i'm fine."
to prove your point, you pull one hand out of your pocket and hold up the little hot pack you've been carrying around. "see? i even have this. i'm good."
ay clicks his tongue softly, clearly unsatisfied, and before you realize what's happening, he tells the others, "wait." and steps away from the stall and goes straight toward you.
"jay—"
he stops right in front of you, eyes going straight to your jacket zipper. "you're gonna catch a cold."
"i'm literally not cold." you insist, backing up half a step. "you're being dramatic."
he doesn't listen.
instead, he reaches out, grabs your wrists gently but firmly, and pulls them out of your pockets.
you yelp, startled. "what are you doing?"
"stand still." he says, way too calm for someone who is actively invading your personal space.
you try to pull your hands back, but he's already using his body to block you, stepping closer, effectively trapping you between him and the cold night air.
"jay i can zip it myself." you protest, squirming a little.
"clearly you won't." he replies.
he uses one hand to hold your wrists together and with the other, he grabs the zipper of your jacket. you try to twist away, but he just steps closer again, one hand briefly pressing against your waist to keep you still while he zips the jacket up in one smooth motion, all the way to your chin.
"there." he says, satisfied.
you stare at him with eyes wide. "you literally just manhandled me."
he looks down at you, then at your now fully zipped jacket and shrugs. "now you won't get cold."
you tug at the collar, grumbling. "i was fine before."
jay ignores that, already turning back toward the stall. "you say that now."
you stand there for a second, jacket zipped to your neck, hands still mid-air where he left them, blinking in disbelief.
a grown woman. just forcibly zipped up like a toddler.
you grumble as you stomp up to the stall mildly offended, and when you reach jay you punch him lightly between the shoulder blades.
"you could've been gentler you know." you mutter, sulking as he and the others collect the freshly fried spiral potato sticks from the stall uncle.
jay turns around to respond, already opening his mouth, but then his eyes flick upward straight to your head.
"where's your hat?"
you physically deflate.
"oh my god." you groan, tilting your head back dramatically. "we are not doing this again."
before you can even elaborate, jake suddenly appears at your side like he's been summoned by the word hat.
"here, i've got it!" he says brightly, already pulling a beanie out of his pocket.
"no—wait—jake—"
too late.
he reaches up and tries to plop it straight onto your head. you yelp and duck instinctively, the beanie landing crooked over your forehead instead.
jake laughs, of course, because this is hilarious to him. "stand still!"
you try to back away but he follows you, one hand on your shoulder, the other trying to shove the beanie down over your head.
"jake, i swear—"
you push at his chest but he's stronger, and worse, he's determined. he grabs your wrists, lifts them up like you're a child being dressed, and uses the opportunity to tug the beanie down properly.
"why are you all obsessed with my body temperature?!" you complain, twisting and squirming.
"better safe than sorry." jake replies calmly, like this is a perfectly reasonable thing to say while physically restraining you.
the others are already eating their potato sticks, watching like it's free entertainment.
"this is better than the game on tv." sunoo comments.
"she's fighting for her life." jungwon adds, chewing.
you manage to shove jake's shoulder and almost break free, but he just wraps one arm loosely around your upper body and uses the other to finally force the beanie down over your head.
"got you."
you freeze and immediately reach up and touch your hair. "…why does it feel wrong."
jake lets go and steps back, proud of himself.
you look at your reflection in one of the stall's metal surfaces and groan out loud.
your hair is completely messed up, sticking out from every possible angle under the beanie. little strands poking out near your ears, fringe squashed weirdly, the back somehow puffed up.
"i look like a stressed hedgehog."
before you can fix it, sunghoon walks over.
"hold on." is all he says. and then, with way more force than necessary, he plants both hands on your head and aggressively shoves your hair back under the beanie, squishing it down like he's packing a pillow into a case.
"sunghoon!" you yell. "be gentle—"
but before you can continue your lecture, niki suddenly appears in front of you and casually shoves a potato stick into your mouth.
"eat first, complain later."
you blink, stunned, chewing automatically and everyone bursts out laughing.
you stand there, beanie slightly crooked, hair definitely still messed up, potato in your mouth, surrounded by seven boys who have collectively decided that your autonomy is optional.
and you can't even yell properly because you're too busy chewing, but the annoyance doesn't leave you.
your body is already protesting by the time the instructor finally calls for a break.
thirty minutes. that's all you get.
everyone immediately scatters around the dance practice room like they've been released from captivity. some of the boys drop flat onto the floor, others go for their bags, a few head straight for the mirrors to rewatch clips on the company phone.
you, on the other hand, make a slow beeline for one of the folding chairs by the wall.
the second you sit down, your posture collapses.
you hunch forward without even meaning to, one hand automatically going to your lower back, fingers pressing in gently as you start massaging the sore muscle. the movement makes you wince a little, breath hitching under your nose.
it's not just regular practice soreness. this is… extra.
your body feels heavy, tight in places it usually isn't, like every muscle is quietly screaming at you in its own language.
and honestly? you know exactly why.
last night flashes through your head.
you had all been peacefully having dinner at the dorm. genuinely peaceful. quiet even. everyone was tired, half-slumped over their plates, scrolling on their phones, just eating in silence like normal human beings.
and then somehow — for reasons you still cannot explain — it had turned into a full-blown boxing match.
no really. one second jake was shadowboxing in the living room as a joke, the next sunghoon was squaring up to him, then ni-ki jumped in, then jay, then suddenly everyone had too much energy and not enough self-control.
and of course, of course, they had dragged you into it.
you remember clearly saying, "i'm tired. i'm already sore from practice. please don't include me."
and you also remember how completely useless that had been. because to the boys, "no" just means "try harder to convince her".
hands had grabbed your wrists, someone had pulled you into the middle, you'd been laughing at first, trying to escape, but the roughhousing escalated so fast. too much pulling, too much lifting, too many limbs, too much weight being thrown around without anyone really thinking.
you hadn't gotten hurt exactly. but it had definitely been too much. and now, you were paying for it.
back in the practice room, you press your fingers into your back again, trying to work out the stiffness, but it only makes you hiss quietly.
your shoulders feel tight, your spine feels strained, even your legs feel heavier than usual.
you'd tried not to let it show during practice. you really had. you kept your face neutral, pushed through the choreography, matched everyone's energy as best as you could.
but with every jump, every turn, every time you had to drop low or snap back up, your body responded with a dull ache that just kept building.
now that you're sitting, the adrenaline is gone and it hits you all at once.
you lean forward more, elbows resting on your thighs, hand still at your back, head slightly lowered. your breathing is slower, more careful, like you're afraid one wrong movement will make something pull.
across the room, the boys are laughing about something again. loud, energetic, and completely fine.
you glance at them briefly, then look back down at the floor.
you don't want to complain. you don't want to be that person. but god is it getting harder to pretend you're okay.
each passing minute of practice feels heavier than the last, and for the first time in a while, you're very aware of just how tired your body really is. not just from today, but from everything piling up from recent events.
it hits you all at once.
not slowly, just this sudden heavy wave of frustration that crashes over you before you can even stop it.
because if you're being honest with yourself… you've been aching for a while now. not just today, not just from last night. it's been weeks, maybe longer, where there's always been something sore. your back, your shoulders, your thighs, your arms. some kind of dull pain lingering in the background no matter how much you stretch or rest.
and when you really think about it, when you trace every little ache back to its source, it all leads to the same place.
the boys.
the constant grabbing, pulling, lifting, wrestling, leaning, using you as a cushion, an armrest, a pillow, a joke. being dragged into games you didn't want to play, into chaos you were too tired for, into roughhousing you kept telling yourself was "just for fun".
you had ignored it at first because you knew they didn't mean any harm. because it was always playful, always accompanied by laughter and smiles and "we're just joking". because you didn't want to be over dramatic.
but it was taking a toll. your body was keeping score even if you weren't.
and you're not sure how much more of it you can actually take.
you're still hunched over on the folding chair, hand resting at your lower back, lost in your thoughts, when suddenly the chair beside you creaks.
ni-ki drops into it with a heavy sigh, slumping back like he's exhausted, legs immediately spreading wide.
too wide.
his knee knocks straight into your right knee, then presses further, digging into the inside of your thigh hard.
your body reacts before your brain does.
you suck in a sharp breath, shoulders tensing, eyes twitching at the sudden contact. the pressure sends a jolt straight up your leg, right into a spot that already feels bruised and sore.
because of course. of course it’s this too.
the manspreading. the constant lack of awareness. the way they take up space without even realising it, without ever checking if you have space.
you shift slightly, trying to ease away, but his leg just follows naturally, still pressed against yours.
you can almost feel last night in your bones. someone's elbow digging into your thigh, someone's knee knocking into your hip, hands grabbing your arms, your waist, your shoulders.
your jaw tightens.
ni-ki, completely oblivious, just slumps deeper into the chair, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.
doesn't notice your reaction.
doesn’t notice your stiff posture.
doesn't notice the way your fingers curl slightly against your own leg.
you sit there, silent, his knee still digging into yours, your body sore and your patience thinning.
you shift slightly in your seat, the pressure on your thigh becoming too uncomfortable to ignore, and gently nudge ni-ki's knee with yours.
"ni-ki," you say quietly, low enough that only he can hear, "can you move a little? please? i'm kinda sore."
he lazily turns his head toward you, eyes half-lidded, and instead of actually looking at your face, really looking at it, he just smirks.
"wow, noona." he says, already grinning. "we literally just started practice. don't tell me you're tired already?"
you barely have time to respond before he leans closer and starts poking your sides with his fingers, light but sudden, like he's trying to tickle you into laughing.
"yah—stop." you mutter, instinctively curling in on yourself a little, shoulders tensing. your back protests immediately at the movement.
he laughs, completely amused. "you're getting old~"
you don't laugh.
you try to shift again subtly, hoping he'll finally get the hint and move his leg.
he doesn't.
his knee is still pressed firmly into yours, still digging into your thigh, his weight relaxed and unbothered, like he hasn't even registered that he's taking up your space. he's smiling playful, clearly just messing around in his own head, completely unaware of the tightness in your posture, the way your hand is still resting protectively at your back, the way your jaw is clenched just a little too hard.
you barely get the words out.
"it's not like that, i just—"
before you can finish, something rolls into your field of vision. literally.
jungwon slides across the floor on his back like he's in a movie, stopping right at your feet, propping himself up on his elbows with that familiar mischievous look on his face.
"noona~"
your heart drops a little.
"jungwon, please." you say immediately, voice already tired, already strained. "i'm really not feeling it today."
he doesn't even process the sentence because in one quick movement, he reaches up, grabs your arm and tugs hard.
you gasp as you're pulled off the chair, losing your balance instantly, your body tipping forward and down.
"jungwon—!"
you land on the floor on top of him, the impact jarring through your spine, and before you can even orient yourself, his arms are already locked around you, trapping you against his chest.
he's laughing. full, bright, carefree laughter.
"got you!"
you yelp, the sound sharp and unplanned as pain shoots through your body from the sudden movement. your back screams in protest, your muscles tightening reflexively.
"jungwon seriously—" you try, pushing against his shoulders, trying to lift yourself up.
but your arms feel heavier than usual. weaker.
you twist, trying to break free, but his grip is tight, secure, playful in his mind but overwhelming in your body.
he just laughs more, shifting his hold, accidentally tightening it.
"why are you so boring todayyy."
you turn your head to scold him, frustration and pain mixing in your chest.
"jungwon, i said—"
and then it happens.
a sharp, blooming pain explodes through your back. not dull. not manageable.
sharp.
it radiates up your spine, into your neck, down into your lower back, like something inside you just snapped the wrong way.
your breath catches violently in your throat.
"ah—!"
this time, the sound that leaves you isn't playful.
it's real.
a genuine cry of pain, raw and uncontrolled, your body stiffening in his arms as your face contorts, eyes squeezing shut instinctively.
everything goes wrong in that single second.
your hands clutch at his shirt, not to push him away anymore, but because your body can't process what just happened, the pain pulsing through you in waves.
jungwon's laughter dies instantly.
the room, which had been filled with noise and movement just moments ago, suddenly feels… too quiet.
because that sound you made?
that wasn't normal.
jungwon releases you instantly. it's like his body moves before his brain does, his arms unlock from around you and he pushes himself up on his hands, hovering over you as you curl in on yourself on the floor, your body stiff, instinctively trying to protect the pain.
"n–noona?" his voice comes out shaky.
one hand stays planted on the floor to hold himself up, the other hovers in the air above you, trembling, like he wants to touch you but is suddenly terrified.
you're curled slightly on your side now, one arm wrapped around your middle, the other pressed against the wooden floor, your face twisted in a way he's never seen before. not playful, not annoyed.
just… pure pain.
"wh–what's wrong?" he blurts out, panic already seeping into his tone. "did i... did i hurt you??"
you try to inhale properly but the breath stutters halfway, your chest rising and falling unevenly. the pain in your back pulses, sharp and deep, like something inside you has been pulled too far.
your face contorts again despite your efforts to control it, and that's when jungwon sees it.
the tears. just beading at the corners of your eyes, clinging to your lashes as you squeeze them shut, your lips trembling.
his own breath catches.
"you're crying." he whispers, voice cracking. "hey, hey, i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to—"
he turns his head suddenly, panic exploding outward.
"guys!" he calls, louder than he's ever sounded in the practice room. "guys, come here. something's wrong—"
the room reacts instantly. chairs scrape, laughter cuts off mid-sentence and footsteps rush toward you.
within seconds, all of them are crowded around, forming a messy circle on the floor, the atmosphere completely different from just moments ago. no teasing, no energy, no chaos.
just fear.
"what happened?" heeseung asks first, already kneeling down near your head.
"are you okay noona?" sunoo's voice is soft, almost afraid.
sunghoon crouches near your legs, hands hovering uselessly in the air like jungwon's had been.
ni-ki stands frozen for a second, guilt flashing across his face as he remembers how you'd asked him to move earlier.
"noona." jungwon says again, quieter now, his voice barely holding together. "tell us what's wrong, please."
you try to speak.
your mouth opens, but all that comes out at first is a shaky sound, halfway between a breath and a sob.
"i—" your voice cracks immediately, thin and trembling. you swallow, eyes squeezing shut again as another wave of pain rolls through your back. "it… it hurts…"
the boys freeze.
"where?" jay asks gently, one hand instinctively reaching toward your shoulder before stopping himself. "where does it hurt?"
your lips part again, another tear finally slipping free and rolling down the side of your face.
"my back." you whisper, and the word barely makes it out. "it's— it's killing me…"
your voice breaks on the last word. the moment the tears actually start falling.
"your back…?" jungwon repeats, his gaze dropping to where you're curled, remembering exactly how he pulled you and how you landed, just how tightly he'd been holding you.
"i'm sorry." he says immediately, words tumbling over each other. "i'm so sorry, i didn’t know, i swear i didn't know—"
you try to shake your head but even that tiny movement sends another sharp jolt through your spine and you gasp, fingers digging into the mat.
that sound — the involuntary one — makes all of them flinch.
you break.
the tears have been threatening for a while, but now they spill freely, your voice cracking as it finally bursts out.
"it's not just you, jungwon!" you cry, your body shaking, your back aching, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. "it's all of you! i've been telling you for ages to just… just be gentle! you have no idea how rough you all can be sometimes! i'm not strong like you, i'm not tough all the time, and there's only so much… so much roughhousing i can take!"
the words come out faster than you can stop them, spilling like a dam breaking. every frustration, every sore muscle, every playful grab, every manspread, every time someone manhandled you in ways big or small — it all comes pouring out, raw and unfiltered.
the room goes quiet. the boys freeze mid-motion, faces shifting from concern to dawning realization, to absolute guilt.
for a moment, no one moves, as if the weight of your words has made the air itself heavy. then slowly, one by one, their hands reach for you. some hover for a heartbeat before touching your arms, gently rubbing where you've tensed up. heeseung swipes at the tears streaking down your cheeks. sunghoon's hand presses softly on your shoulder, hesitating just long enough to let you know he's sorry without crowding you. jungwon is still kneeling closest, one hand holding your wrist, thumb rubbing slow circles while his other hand hovers protectively above your back.
ni-ki crouches beside you, softly murmuring apologies, looking like he wishes he could shrink down and erase every time he'd been careless. jake, pale and sheepish, gently helps shift you upright, letting you lean against jay for support as though you're fragile porcelain, which in that moment feels painfully accurate. sunoo has already darted toward the door, his voice calling for someone, anyone, to get a manager.
the air is thick with regret. murmurs of "we're sorry" echo around you, a mixture of soft apologies and choked voices as each boy grapples with the sudden realization of how much they've underestimated the toll their playfulness — their strength, their energy, their oblivious roughness — has taken on you.
soon, a manager bursts into the practice room, her expression sharp at first, softening instantly when she sees you being supported, eyes teary, back tense. she directs two staff members immediately to carefully carry you from the folding chair, her voice firm but gentle.
"we're taking her to the medical office, now. practice is canceled today." she orders. the boys nod quickly, voices subdued, following her directions without question.
someone wraps their arms around you securely, making sure you don't put weight on your back, lifting you carefully as the others fall into step beside you. the warmth of their concern is a sharp contrast to the exhaustion and ache coursing through your body.
you lie there, flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. the quiet of your room presses down on you, heavier than the weight of your own body. the soft hum of the city outside barely reaches you, muffled by the thick curtains, leaving only the faint ticking of the clock to mark the passage of time.
the nurse's words from earlier replay in your mind, over and over. "your body doesn't look like it can handle much strain at the moment. a few days of rest, please." you had nodded silently, too tired and sore to argue, and then been whisked away, the boys trailing behind, faces still tight with guilt, whispers of apology fading as you left the building.
it's night now. your room is dim, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows across the walls, shadows that only seem to make the space feel bigger, emptier. you've been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, letting your thoughts wander where they will.
and your thoughts, as always, wander back to them. to the boys.
and then, inevitably, your mind lands on yourself. on the moment when everything spilled out of you.
the burst of frustration, the words you'd shouted, the tears you'd finally let fall.
and you cringe. hard.
your fingers twitch as you lift them to your face, pressing your palms over your eyes. your cheeks burn, your ears feel hot. did i really just… explode like that? you whisper into your hands, voice barely audible. was that… too much?
you know the boys didn't mean harm. you know they were just being themselves, being playful, full of energy and oblivious to your limits. and yet, the memory of your own voice, raw and cracking, shouts of frustration mixed with real pain, sends a fresh wave of embarrassment rushing through you.
your fingers press harder against your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. they must think i'm ridiculous…
just as you're about to breathe out another shaky sigh, there's a soft knock at your door.
your head lifts slightly, peeking over your hands. the sound is quiet, polite, almost hesitant.
"y/n?", "noona?" familiar voices call out softly from the other side.
your stomach twists. your cheeks burn even hotter. your mind races as you wonder… did you really go too far?
your hand hovers over the edge of the blanket as your thoughts spin, heart fluttering in nervous anticipation.
you let out a "come in." your voice small and careful, unsure what to expect.
the door creaks open slowly, and one by one, the boys shuffle inside, eyes downcast, guilty expressions etched across their faces. the usual liveliness and the teasing smiles replaced by something heavier, more tentative.
jay enters first, holding a small packet in his hands. you squint at it, and your stomach twists slightly in relief and gratitude when you recognize it — heat patches. the kind that soothe sore muscles and warm aches. sunoo comes behind him, carefully balancing a tray with what you assume is your dinner. the faint scent of soup and rice wafts toward you, making your mouth water despite your lingering discomfort.
they maneuver around your bed with careful steps, making sure not to bump into furniture or each other. there's a strange, almost reverent hush as they find spots to sit close to you. jay perches himself at the edge of the bed looking serious, the playful spark in his eyes replaced with concern.
"i need to apply these," he says quietly, voice low and steady, as though even saying it loudly might hurt you. "to your back."
you nod wordlessly, unsure what to say, still feeling raw from earlier, still tense from the soreness. ni-ki leans closer and offers to help you turn over onto your stomach, his hands gentle and careful. you give a small, soft acknowledgment and slowly roll over, pressing your face into the pillow, trying not to flinch as your body adjusts.
jay lifts your shirt just enough to reveal your back, and you feel a heat pulse of embarrassment, even through your soreness, but it's tempered by gratitude. the sight of him, focused, hands steady, carefully peeling open the first patch, is strangely comforting. he applies it to the center of your lower back first, pressing it gently against your skin. the warmth spreads slowly, seeping into the tense muscles, and your body gives a tiny, involuntary shiver of relief.
he moves with quiet precision, applying each patch carefully along your back, smoothing them down with the pads of his fingers. his brow furrows slightly in concentration, lips pressed together, and you realize just how much he cares, how much he's internalized your pain and frustration from the past few days.
from the side, jake peers down at you, his usual smile gone, replaced with a softer concern. "how are you feeling?" he asks, voice gentle.
your face is still pressed into the pillow, the weight of the day and the ache in your muscles making words hard to find. you mumble quietly, voice muffled, "my body still feels a little sore."
he leans slightly closer, eyes scanning your posture, watching for any sudden flinch. his hand hovers near your arm, ready to offer support if needed, but he doesn't touch. not yet, not without your permission.
sunoo steps carefully toward your bedside, the tray balanced expertly in his hands. he sets it down gently on the small table beside you, making sure nothing clinks or wobbles, the faint aroma of your dinner immediately reaching your nose.
jay, having finished applying the patches, slowly tugs your pajama shirt back down over your back, smoothing the fabric carefully above the warm rectangles. his fingers linger for a moment, almost absentmindedly stroking the material, a solemn motion that carries more weight than just straightening clothing. the quietness of the gesture contrasts sharply with the events of the day, and for a fleeting second, you feel a wash of gratitude and guilt at the same time.
ni-ki kneels beside you again, hands gentle and steady, guiding you carefully to sit up. he adjusts the pillow behind your back, fluffing it until it's just the right height for support, and tucks the blanket back over your lap, making sure it sits comfortably. you let out a long, slow sigh, leaning back into the soft pillow, finally letting yourself feel the comforting heat of the patches seep into your sore muscles. it's almost intoxicating — warmth and relief mingling with exhaustion, letting you sink further into the bed.
your gaze drifts slowly around the room. the boys are scattered in little clusters, some sitting on the floor, others on chairs, but none of them meet your eyes. instead, they all keep their gazes lowered at their own fingers, the floor, or the edge of the bed. their usual confidence, their jokes, even their smiles, are gone. it's replaced with a quiet hesitation, an almost tangible weight of guilt hanging in the air.
you clear your throat softly, cheeks warming as you feel their eyes finally on you. your fingers fidget nervously in your lap, twisting and untwisting.
"i… i'm sorry." you begin, looking down at your hands, avoiding each of their gazes. "for the way i snapped at you earlier… i didn't mean to be so harsh, it's just… my back was really—really being annoying and…"
you trail off, unsure how to continue, hoping they understand without you needing to explain too much. the room feels heavy with silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside your window.
then, all at once, they start talking. not over each other, but in that simultaneous almost instinctive way that only they manage when they're serious.
"why are you apologizing?" jay says, shaking his head slightly.
"it's totally our fault." heeseung adds, voice calm but carrying weight, his eyes soft as they look at you.
"yeah." jungwon says quietly, "we… we just didn't realize. we should've noticed sooner, we… we really messed up."
sunghoon leans forward a little, elbows resting on his knees, his usual bravado gone. "we like playing around with you, yeah, it's fun for us, but if it actually hurts you, that's not a joke anymore. we get it now, regretfully a little too late, but still…"
ni-ki reaches over, lightly brushing your shoulder in a careful, tentative motion. "we're… really sorry, noona. we shouldn't have been so rough.”
even jake, who usually hides his concern behind teasing, shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes lowering to the floor. "we… we'll do better. promise."
you glance up at them, finally meeting their eyes, and for the first time that day, you see it — the sincerity, the remorse, the understanding. it's not just words. it's the way their bodies are slightly tense, how their voices wobble with guilt, how they sit closer yet keep a careful distance, unsure of how to make amends.
you feel a small warmth bloom in your chest as you finally lift your gaze, meeting each of their eyes with a shy, tentative smile.
"thank you, everyone." you say softly, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap for a moment before settling. "even though… yeah, this time may have ended like it did… i just… i really am fond of all of you. i love you all very much, so… it's okay, i don't mind it so much." your voice wavers slightly at the end, the embarrassment of saying it out loud making your cheeks warm. "i'm just asking… a little more gentleness next time, okay?"
the boys exchange glances for a heartbeat, then one by one, they immediately nod, voices chiming in almost in unison.
"swear."
"promise."
"absolutely.
"never again."
you can't help the small, relieved laugh that escapes you at their earnestness. sunoo scoots over beside you, carefully moving to place the dinner tray on your lap, and gently nudges it closer so that it sits perfectly on your thighs. then, with a grin that's equal parts mischief and apology, he leans in and whispers loudly, "don't worry noona, i'd never roughhouse you like the other brutes."
he pauses, eyes twinkling, voice soft but teasing, "but still, sorry about everything."
you can't help it. the corners of your lips twitch, and then a small light giggle escapes, bubbling up despite yourself. the sound is infectious, and for the first time since you'd gotten home, the room feels lighter, brighter.
the other boys groan and shout playful protests, pretending to be offended. the tension that had been so heavy just a little while ago finally dissolving into warmth and laughter.
you lean back into your pillow, still smiling, still a little shy, but for the first time that day, you feel at ease. the ache in your muscles remains, but it's softened, dulled by the presence of the boys who care, who are listening, who are trying. and as you take a tentative bite of your dinner, you feel in the quiet of your room that things are finally okay.
author's note: sigh i wish i could be manhandled by enhypen. i was initially gonna make them have like a big fight over this but then i realised that i'm already planning on writing something similar in that sense in another work so i just decided to scrap that idea and save it for later. hope this one was alright idk i feel like it could've turned out better, kinda hard thinking about different ways to be manhandled lmao.
Summary: Whenever her heart gets broken she knows who to call. Her best friend Jiyong has cute cats and hugs and expensive wine to make it all better.
Whenever her heart gets broken his breaks as well, every new idiot who doesn't deserve her a new crack.
Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, protected sex, swearing, alcohol, friends-to-lovers, pining, female character is dramatic and Ji loves it, don't get me wrong - this is mainly fluff, so why did she buy that vacuum cleaner? Even I have questions.
<3: Hello, long time no see. The GD Paris concert was five days ago and I am still completely overwhelmed. Whenever I try to talk about it I choke up... Cool, so this is life now. But at least it finally made me finish this one shot for @jiyongsangel Man's Best Friend writing challenge (Thanks for asking me, love doing those! <3) This is for the song Nobody's Son by Sabrina Carpenter which at first challenged me because I have... absolutely no interest in writing about toxic romantic interests but I think i found a way to incorporate the song into the story in another way nonetheless, let me know what you think. <3 I hope it won't be too long before the next update of one of my stories but I am going on vacation (Seoul<3) next month and before every weekend is chaotic. But I am trying my best.
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I am crying when Jiyong picks up.
“He broke up with me!”
No hellos. At first, no reaction either. Just silence on the other end while my blurry vision scans the rainy street in front of the dark, lonely bus stop where I sit.
“What? Weren’t you having dinner with his parents tonight?”
“I thought so too.” My voice almost hiccups from crying. “But then he showed up alone and told me we should take a break because he needs to grow emotionally instead.”
Ji curses under his breath. Apparently, he finds that reason just as pretentious as I do. When the words came out of my (now) ex’s mouth, I thought it was a joke for a second. His face said otherwise.
“What a… fuckface.” That’s one way to put it. “Where are you now?”
“I… I bought wine and gummy worms and a new vacuum cleaner and now I am sitting with all that in a bus stop and…”
“Okay, what… why… why did you buy a… ah, whatever. You want to come over?”
Obviously, I want to come over. That is why I called. That is why I always call.
It’s not like we only see each other when my heart breaks; Jiyong and I have been friends since our early twenties. We’ve shared the good times, even had a joint birthday party or two. Group vacations. If he weren’t usually busy being a superstar, I’d say he’s my best friend. Well… no, he is my best friend.
But I definitely always do call him when I get my heart broken. He’s nice to me, he has cats to cuddle and that huge bathtub in his apartment. It’s just good being around him when I feel bad. Everyone should have a comfort-Jiyong. And did I mention the huge bathtub?
“Yeah, is that okay?” I still ask and he scoffs, because it's a stupid question and hangs up. Rude?
I get an Uber. The driver looks a little confused at the mascara-stained woman with a vacuum cleaner box on her lap, headed to Hannam. He doesn’t ask. I lean back dramatically and stare out at the lights flashing past.
A bit later, I kick Ji’s door with my foot because my hands are full. Half with the box and the grocery bag of cheap wine and candy, half with my pride in shreds. Jiyong stares like I’ve tracked mud into his spotless apartment, which I probably have. His hair is messy in a way that says he didn’t plan for company, but I don’t care.
“You look like hell.” he says.
“I look like a woman scorned.” I kick off my shoes, shuffle past him and collapse on the couch. The cats follow me like I’m a human jungle gym, climbing onto my lap before I can even open the wine. “Your children missed me.”
“They like whoever feeds them.” He sets the bag on the table, pulls out the wine and raises a brow. “You brought screw-top Merlot. Truly the taste of heartbreak. I have better stuff here?”
“Don’t mock me in my time of suffering. And of course I couldn’t come empty-handed.” He scoffs again. I always invite myself over and pretend cheap wine makes us even. And then we usually drink his expensive stuff. Not sure what happens to my bottles actually.
I hold out my hands. “Pour it, servant.”
He ignores me, twists the cap and takes the first swig himself, straight from the bottle. I gasp like he just stole my firstborn.
“I needed that.” he groans, but when I reach for it, he lifts it higher.
“You’re supposed to comfort me.”
“I am comforting you. By saving you from drinking this.” Still, he hands it over. I take a huge sip. It’s gross. When I finally come up for air, he asks “So what did this one do?”
I fling myself dramatically against the couch cushion. “He was nobody’s son.”
Jiyong blinks. “And what the hell does that mean?”
“It means he was pretty, charming, sweet and absolutely allergic to commitment. It means I wasted six months on another guy who only wanted the honeymoon phase, but didn’t bother to tell me.”
“You mean he was an asshole.”
“Yes, thank you, Detective Obvious.” I pat Zoa, bury my face in her fur and mumble, “I just want someone who’ll love me forever. Is that so much to ask?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Ji watching me. Not laughing. Not teasing. Just watching with that unreadable expression he gets sometimes, like he knows something I don’t.
I swirl the bottle, watching the cheap red slosh. “He told me he was busy. All the time. Business trips, late nights, family dinners. Turns out…” I tip the bottle toward Jiyong like it’s a mic and pretend to be a game show host when I reveal the answer to it all. “…he was busy dating two other women. At the same time. Like a fucking group project.”
Jiyong freezes halfway into sitting down beside me. “You’re joking.”
“I wish.” I laugh, but it comes out cracked. “One of them DM’d me. Sent screenshots. Said she felt sorry for me. I confronted him and he said he didn’t realise we were THAT exclusive. For some reason, I said whatever, as long as from now on I’m the only one.” I look down, embarrassed. I do believe everyone should live the relationship model they want, but this was bullshit. We had talked about being exclusive when we… became exclusive? I knew he was lying, but I was sad and decided to turn a blind eye. “Et voilà. A couple of days later and he already decided I’m not enough. ‘Needs to grow emotionally’, my ass.”
Even now I am aware this is probably for the best… But he could have done it in a way that didn’t make me feel like I am the problem. Like I am too much and not enough at the same time.
Ji’s jaw tightens, sharp as glass. “Where is he now?”
I blink. “Why?”
“So I can have him buried in the mountains.”
Despite myself, I grin. “So you kill people now?”
Ji shrugs, ruffling his hair. “I wouldn’t get caught. Or at least the people I would pay wouldn’t get caught.” His eyes flick to me, the muscle in his cheek jumps. “He strung you along for months. Lied to your face. Made you think you were crazy for wanting more. Do you know how much I want to kill him right now?”
“Aw.” I coo, reaching out with the bottle like I might toast him. “You love me.”
Jiyong’s face twitches. “I do, which is why I’m angry.” He leans forward. “Why do you keep letting men like that near you?”
The smile fades. My heart sinks. “Excuse me?”
“You fall for the same type every single time. Pretty face, smooth lines, a little mystery and you jump headfirst like you’ve never been burned before. The next one will be different, sure. One was a chaebol heir, one was American, one was a lawyer. But inside they were all shit.”
I sit up, indignant. “So this is my fault now?”
“I didn’t say that.” His voice is tight, rising. “I’m saying you need to be more careful. You say you want something real, but you’re not even looking in the right direction.”
I shove the cat off my lap and set the bottle down too hard. “Thanks, Ji. Really supportive.” My voice a bit shriller than I would have liked it to be.
He drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I am supportive. I’ve been supportive for years. I’ve been here every time some idiot breaks your heart. Do you know how insane it drives me to watch you cry over men who don’t even deserve to know your name?”
The mood shifts. We always banter, sure. But this is different. He’s not play-annoyed. He’s actually annoyed. And it hurts.
My throat tightens. I fight it. “You think I like this? You think I enjoy getting wrecked every few months? I want something serious, Ji. I want flowers, anniversaries, a family one day. I want someone who stays and is crazy about me. It’s not like I’m asking for the moon.”
“You say that, but your actions don’t match.” His voice is sharp, almost a shout. “If you really wanted that, you wouldn’t keep choosing men who run at the first sign of responsibility.”
I push to my feet, heat flooding my face. So that’s what he thinks? Really thinks? That I’m some masochist who’d rather get my heart broken than date for real? Fuck him. Also: “And where the hell are these men you think I’m supposed to find, oh wise rapper GD? Point them out, please. I’ll go get one right now.”
At some point, he’s stood too. The air between us is heavy. His jaw flexes. We haven’t fought like this since the New Year’s fiasco in 2015. Then he jabs a finger at his own chest.
“Here. Right here. Open your damn eyes.”
I blink at him, stunned. “Very funny.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” His voice is low, rough. “You want someone who’ll stay? Who’ll give you family and flowers and big gestures? I would. I’d give you all of it. I’d love to make you happy. I’d love to have children with you.” His mouth twists into something like a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’d even enjoy the process.”
My heart stumbles. “Oh fuck off… you’re crazy.”
“No. I’m not.” His frustration is all over him: eyes sharp, shoulders tense, hands restless. “I’m just a good man you refuse to see. Because you’re too busy chasing idiots. And I would know… I used to be the biggest idiot. Still am often, actually. But not with you. For you, I’d be good.”
The silence that follows is unbearable. My pulse is thundering in my ears.
I grab my bag, because if I don’t leave right now, I’ll say something I can’t take back. “I need air.” I mutter, pushing past him. He doesn’t stop me.
…but outside, there’s not enough air to erase what I just heard.
“Clearly he’s doing harder drugs now.” I mutter in an Uber a couple of minutes later, even though he seemed perfectly sober. He was wearing pyjamas. Who does hard drugs in pyjamas? Ah, what do I know.
“What? Who is?” The cabbie looks confused, which is fair. These are the first words I’ve said to him.
“My best friend. Who just told me he wants to start a family with me. He must be using.”
Silence.
“Or… he wants to start a family with you?” the guy offers. I shoot him an evil look. He has a two-star rating coming his way.
At home, I sit by the window and feel like crying.
What the fuck happened tonight. Over the next couple of days, I try to convince myself he didn’t mean it. He MUST not have meant it. Maybe he was speaking figuratively. Like… good men like him. Not him. It’s not that I never thought about it, of course. Considering these things, especially when meeting someone new, is normal, right? And we even kissed once. Or twice? But it was a dare when we got drunk and we were basically babies. Okay, maybe twenty-four, but I can barely remember it and we never talked about it again and… well… does it even count if it’s been so long?
I don’t text him. And he doesn’t text me either. A week later, while I’m at work, my phone finally buzzes.
Jiyong: Your vacuum cleaner is still here. Should I let someone bring it over to you?
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help with the move.” I say, collapsing a box of kitchen utensils.
She takes it and drops it with the others. “I mean… you are right now, right?”
I shrug, then nod. “Well, yeah, but you know what I mean…”
She waves it off. “You were busy abroad, I get it. Also… what would that have looked like? You? Signing autographs in front of my ex’s apartment instead of helping?”
She touches my arm, teasing like I couldn’t carry much anyway. I swat her hand away and grab a heavy stack of plates, trying to lift it to the highest shelf like it’s effortless. It’s not, but my ego needs it.
She’s right, of course. Still, I’m here now.
Even I thought this relationship might last. After my usual jealous streak when she found someone new, I admitted the guy seemed decent. Should’ve known something was off. Tax evasion on the level of jail time? New. Cheating on her with his lawyer? That’s a new record, even for her. She’s so fucking unlucky with men, my god.
“Still, thanks for always being there, Ji. I promise the next one will be the last. So you won’t have to pick up the pieces again.”
I can’t help smiling at her. She still believes in the next one. The one true love. It’s always the next person she dates. She’s a hopeless romantic and after all the shit she’s been through, I admire her for it.
Break-up no. 7 – Five years ago
“And so… basically… It’s a good thing.” She says it like she almost believes it. I don’t, but who cares. My job is to listen. “I can finally concentrate on what’s important.”
We’re at a bar. She looks incredible, hair freshly cut, outfit perfectly styled. She needs to believe she’s fine with the breakup. And even though I told her he was bad news from the start, I can’t gloat. At least she isn’t crying or drunk. This could still be a good night.
“Good, I’m glad. Whatever makes you happy.” I smile at her.
She scans my face, suspicious, but I just keep smiling and nudge the shared starter platter toward her. She takes some, then looks down. Her shoulders sink and my heart cracks.
Of course, she has priorities outside her love life. But I know her. Her number one priority has always been love. Lover girl. I relate.
“Man, I can already tell this will be good for you. You’re glowing. You look so good tonight.” I blurt it out without thinking, just trying to make her feel better.
She looks up again, smiling, beaming almost. Exactly what she needed to hear.
I’m getting too good at this.
Break-up no. 1 – Seven years ago, four months after they met
She calls me in the middle of the night. If I’m honest, I half-hope it’s a drunk booty call. Instead, she’s crying so hard she can barely talk. Eventually, I get a location out of her. Not far, but it’s pouring, a Saturday night, people everywhere. I throw on a hoodie and a mask and hurry there.
I find her sitting on the sidewalk, clutching a soju bottle in each hand. Pathetic, but also a little funny.
“Aish… what’s going on, it can’t be that bad…”
She looks up, face a mess, lets the bottles drop and raises her arm like a toddler who wants to be picked up. I can’t lift her, but I can sit beside her and wrap my arms around her.
“What happened?”
“He… he left me and I didn’t know who else to call…”
Her head is on my shoulder, soaking it with tears.
Let’s be honest. I’m not used to being friend-zoned this hard. When we met a few months ago, I flirted. She thought I was joking, laughed, kept telling me about her boyfriend. The guy’s good-looking, sure, but I’m cooler. Didn’t matter. To her, I was the party buddy. Then the hangover buddy. Now? The emergency-contact buddy. A “good friend.”
Not sure I’m comfortable with that.
But her sobs are loud, people stare and my heart hurts because hers does.
“Hey, it’s gonna be fine, little one.” I say it softly, because I know how it feels. I just show it differently. Less crying, more angry lyrics.
“No, it won’t. I’ll never be happy again. There’s no one like him.”
I almost laugh. She’s so dramatic and I always liked that about her. That night we met at the club, she told me to remember her face, because meeting her would soon be one of my most cherished memories. I laughed, asked why and she just said Watch me, downed two shots and did the dumbest little dance under purple and yellow lights. Just ran straight to the by that time of the night emptied dance floor. No skill, no sex appeal, just pure fun. She indeed was unforgettable.
I think I fell for her right then and there.
So I hug her tighter, swaying. “Ah, bullshit. There are a million guys for you. All with great hair, dumb jokes, amazing in bed. It’s good he’s gone - you wouldn’t meet them if he was still around.”
She laughs a little, then cries again. But that’s okay. I’ll hold her until she stops.
I think I’ve been in love with her since that stupid dance. But she doesn’t love me back and being her friend is the next best thing.
HER
Two weeks later, I go to pick up the vacuum. It’s the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other, I guess. When he’s on tour, I sometimes don’t see him for months, but that feels different. I still get sleepy voice notes and cat pictures from his housekeeper. I’ve even hung out at his place when he wasn’t home - he thought it was weird, but I told him the cats shouldn’t be abandoned by me just because he did.
Every day, I had moments where I thought, I need to tell Jiyong about this. But I didn’t. It’s awkward. We both know it.
I’m low-key sweating in the elevator.
And then… It’s fine. Weird and different, but fine. He pretends nothing ever happened, so I do too. We chat. He tells me what he’s been up to. We eat ramen. I go home. Not how we usually are, but maybe we just needed to shake it off.
The next morning, I still feel weird. I miss my friend. I miss Ji.
My brain keeps circling. Maybe he only said it to prove a point. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe he lost his mind. But sometimes, sitting at work, I wonder. What if…?
Wouldn’t being friends first be a solid base for something real? That’s what people with healthy long-term relationships often say. Ignoring the chaos of his fame, he’d make a good boyfriend, right? A caring one. He can be charming…
And then I wonder what he’s like in bed and I blush so hard my co-worker asks if I’m okay. Honestly, I’m not sure.
That night, my head and heart and body form an alliance against me and I dream about him.
We are on his couch. My safe space. Comfortable, familiar. We’re having tea - ridiculous, because I never drink tea, only he does. Probably just my brain trying to keep it as wholesome as possible before everything tilts. Good dramatic effect, I have to admit.
Because suddenly I’m pulling his arm, dragging him down with me until we sink into the cushions like it is quicksand. Physically impossible, but in dreams, anything goes. He looks startled at first, then his face softens and suddenly we’re tangled, half on top of each other. Somehow I’m on his lap. Somehow, my hands are in his hair, tugging lightly and he closes his eyes like he’s savoring it.
His mouth twitches and I want to kiss it so badly, but the dream won’t let me. It’s like there’s a string pulling me close, but never close enough. I whimper in frustration and the sound makes his eyes snap open. What I see there wrecks me - frustration, yes, but also longing. Lust. I want him even more.
And then his hands are on me. Sliding up my sides, slipping lower, tracing my waist like he owns it. Unfair. He can touch me, but I can’t kiss him? His body is solid beneath mine, his cock hard against me, my own body aching wet for him. Please, just…
A noise cuts through. We both look up.
My mom is standing beside the couch.
His too, actually. Both unimpressed.
“So… just so you know… he actually isn’t Nobody’s Son. He is mine.”
Oh god, there is nothing as scary as pissed momma Kwon.
And then I wake up.
I try to compartmentalize the whole following day. File it under random dream nonsense. Doesn’t work.
Because I get more the next night…
One moment I’m falling asleep, the next I’m watching him across a golden-tinted room that feels surreal. Makes sense, it’s a dream after all. He’s leaning back in a chair that looks more like a throne, one hand curled over the backrest, legs spread in that careless sprawl he does when he forgets anyone is watching. Except that he knows my eyes are on him. His grin is sly, slow, the kind you want to slap off - or kiss until you can’t breathe.
This dream is nothing like the other. The other one at least started cozy. This is… fae-smut-romance territory. Because somehow… he has a crown and wings and I should stop reading that shit, clearly.
He stands and even that is unfairly elegant. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, the sharp line of his ass in black tight leather pants.
My throat goes dry. His grin sharpens into something dangerous. Half-promise, half-threat.
He doesn’t need to move closer, but of course he does. Each step is deliberate. Eyes locked on mine.
Then his hands are on me again - slim fingers skating over my sides, dragging across my ribs before sliding higher to cup my breast. Uhm, why am I naked? Unfair.
His thumb brushes my nipple and I gasp, embarrassingly needy. He laughs, low and delighted, then bends his head, lips pressing to my collarbone, tongue circling lower, slower.
I arch into him, already aching. His mouth lingers over the swell of my breast, teeth grazing, lips closing around my nipple until I moan. He knows. Of course, he knows. His palm drags lower, resting just above where I need him. Cruel. He kisses down over my ribs, my stomach, pausing to breathe hot against my skin until I clench around nothing while he kneels in front of me.
“Please” I whisper, though I don’t remember deciding to speak.
Instead of giving me what I want, he kisses the inside of my thigh. Wet, open-mouthed kisses that get closer, then retreat. His hand spreads my legs wider, thumb pressing just beside where I throb. He’s too good at this, every second orchestrated to make me ache harder.
I want his tongue, his fingers, his filthy voice. I can almost feel it, but the dream refuses. He stays maddeningly slow, teasing bites on my inner thigh.
I can’t take it. I push my hips up, chasing his mouth, but he only chuckles. Shakes his head. His tongue flicks once, fast, infuriating. I let out a sound that’s more growl than moan, but he just smiles, elegant and smug, as if he knows exactly how undone I am.
And then I wake. Sheets twisted around me, skin damp with sweat.
It feels like his mouth is still on me, his laugh still low in my ear. I don’t even think before my hand slides under the sheets, slipping between my thighs.
I’m soaked. My fingers glide over my clit too easily and I moan into the pillow, embarrassed even though I’m alone. My body doesn’t care. It rocks into my touch like it’s his, like he’s finally giving me what I begged for.
When the orgasm crashes through me, I’m left panting, heart racing, the dream dissolving, but his face still sharp in my mind.
That grin. That deliberate teasing. I press my palm to my face, half-laughing, half-mortified.
What the hell was that?
Except I know exactly what it was. I just got myself off thinking about my best friend.
--------------
So, there we are.
I kind of hate myself after I start wondering if I only like him because he suddenly gave me attention. Or maybe not so suddenly. I don’t know. Either way, it’s not a good reason to want someone, right?
But the next time we’re at a bar with friends, about three weeks after the incident, I look across the table at Ji and wonder how I didn’t see him before. Just like he said.
If I think about it… all those things he says I’m into - “pretty face, smooth lines, a little mystery” - he’s all of that. And I know he isn’t some innocent little angel; he messed up in the past. Sometimes badly, however, he left that behind him in recent years. But at the same time, he’s the guy who loves nothing more in the world than his cats and his parents and his friends. The one with a collection of cuddly blankets on the couch, who’ll watch a drama with you if you ask nicely, who remembers random details from things you told him ages ago and organizes amazing cakes and flowers for my birthday and…
…fuck.
Turns out Kwon Jiyong is fucking dreamy.
I realise it in the middle of this lively crowd. From one moment to the next, I know this isn’t a fluke.
I’ve loved him for the longest time.
But maybe I also… like… love love him.
Because right now I want to circle his name with a heart, just because he’s leaning over a napkin, sketching something no one else can see. Tongue sticking out a little as he concentrates. Around him, it’s drunk people, loud music, a whole dinner table. But he’s off in his own world. Only to snap out seconds later and rejoin the circle he built around us over the years, laughing, telling stories, cheeks flushed from the drinks and totally present. I love both those sides of him.
I don’t think he notices my stare, but then his head turns and his eyes find mine nevertheless. He looks surprised, like this is something he always does, but usually I’m not there glaring back.
I almost look away. But I don’t. We just keep staring and I can’t help but smile. He smiles too. My eyes flick toward the hallway and then I get up.
Waiting there, I start to get nervous. Maybe he didn’t understand. But then he appears, confusion written all over his face.
“You good?” he asks.
His cheeks are red, his eyes spacy. He’s drunk and so am I. Not the only reason this isn’t a good idea.
I nod. Don’t speak at first, just stare until he slows down, frowning a little.
“What?”
“Can I try something?”
He shrugs, then nods hesitantly.
And then I just kiss him.
Let me say this again. Not a good idea.
Maybe realising I like someone like him is, but throwing caution to the wind and just trying something with your best friend? Really not a good idea.
But it doesn’t matter.
No, screw that. It’s a great idea.
He tastes of soju and cigarettes. It doesn’t sound romantic, but in the moment, it’s perfect. Even before he reacts, his lips feel right on mine. I kiss into him, press him back against the wall. Ji freezes for a second, then jolts into action.
His arms wrap around me, not my waist exactly, more like a hug over my back. It feels like he’s holding on now that I’ve finally made it into his arms. And when he kisses me back - firm and determined and perfect - I lose my mind. Forget where I am. Forget who I am.
We stumble sideways into the wall, one of his palms now warm against my cheek, stroking my hair. His tongue gentle against mine.
It’s so good, it feels like I’ve been playing kissing on an easy level my whole level and now finally get to advance.
“How long…” he finally gets out between kisses “do you need to try before you have a verdict?”
I shut his mouth with mine and he chuckles into my lips.
I don’t know… Except for maybe that I don’t want to stop.
We move further away from the light, deeper into the hallway and eventually he does halt us. His hand on my back steadies me, the other one gently pushes me away. I growl. But try to stand on my feet without needing his support, looking up at him a little pouty. A little embarrassed, a little upset, a little horny.
“Not like this…” he finally gets out and there are so many things visible in his eyes that I get overwhelmed as well. Hunger, but also a little sadness.
“Like what?” I ask, breathless. My hands reach for him, wanting him back close.
“Like a drunk mistake.”
That halts me. Well, nah, don’t call me a mistake…
I guess he didn’t; he did the opposite. He sees me pouting more and I can tell he is having a hard time resisting not at least hugging me. Instead, he moves a hand across my hair, putting a couple of strands where they belong.
I let my shoulders slump.
Jiyong leans in, whispers an almost apologetic, somewhat soothing. “I’m gonna head home…” into my ear.
But instead of acknowledging that he is being good, I hold onto his shirt for a second. “Can I come?”
“Oh my god, you are the devil.” he says, laughing, creating distance between us again, but at the same time clearly enjoying that I am being that needy. “No, you can’t. But you can call me tomorrow when you are sober again, alright? No matter what the verdict of the trial was.”
He lets go and smiles and disappears. And I stand there for a second, then I go back to the table and decide to get absolutely shitfaced.
----------------------
The hangover the next morning feels like a movie one. I wake up disoriented with a headache from hell. Cry a little, moan a little, only leave the bed because I have to pee and drink at least two bottles of water. Feeling strangely accomplished because I even manage to brush my teeth and stand under the shower long enough to call it a shower, though just barely.
That is when I remember. The headache eases for a second, leaving room for the flash of Jiyong. Close and far away at the same time. At first, I thought it was another dream, but it wasn’t. That happened.
My heart rate spikes, my headache slams back into me and I crawl into my bathrobe, then into bed.
With every pounding throb behind my eyes, I squeeze them shut tighter. Oh god. What did I do? Regret floods me, but not entirely. The memory is too good. Still, I’m terrified. At some point, I remember him telling me to reach out, but I can’t bring myself to. It takes an eternity to grab my phone, battery almost dead, screen lit up with notifications.
No texts from him though. No calls. :///
Maybe he’s waiting for me to wake up. Maybe he wants to give me time to recover. Maybe… he changed his mind, maybe…
The doorbell rings. I think I might faint from how badly my head protests. Moving slowly, I shuffle to the door and then freeze, because it’s him.
I sigh, let him in and try to steady myself against the wall. When Jiyong steps into the frame, my heart does something weird, slowing and quickening at the same time. He just stares at me.
“Hey… I just wanted to see if you are… lucid?”
“Barely.” I groan, watching him close the door behind him. “I think I drank a lot after you left.”
“Yeah, you did.”
His hair is a mess, sticking out in all directions, clearly he is not what I would consider well rested and I can’t help but stare at him.
“How would you know?”
“The voice messages you left me were really hard to understand.”
“I did… no…”
Tears threaten immediately. Why do I always overdo everything?
“Did I really?”
He smiles, shoulders sinking deeper into his jacket as his hands slide into the pockets. “Nah, just kidding.”
“What? Don’t mess with me like that…”
“It was just the one.”
That’s all it takes. A couple of seconds later, I’m crying. My headache rages.
“Oh, hey, no…” he says, half laughing, half concerned and moves toward me, wrapping his arms around me. “I didn’t mean to… It’s fine. Don’t cry over this, okay? You were being kinda cute, actually. It was just obvious you had a bit too much, so I figured I’d check on you.”
I sink into him right away, hiding my face against his jacket. The light still hurts my eyes, but in his arms, I feel a bit better.
He smells good. He feels even better. Warm and real and steady.
“That bad?” His voice is right by my ear as he strokes my head.
I nod and sob a bit more. “Was I actually cute in the message?”
“Super cute.” His grin is audible.
“Did I tell you any secrets?”
He chuckles. “You want to listen to it?”
“Absolutely not. Just tell me what I said.”
“That you were walking home. That you really want to visit Spain at some point next year. And that I’m a very good kisser.”
Embarrassing, but not as bad as it could have been. I could have mentioned how dreamy he is. Or worse, the dreams. If I did, he’s keeping it to himself.
“Let’s get some hangover cure into you, hm?” he says eventually, swaying me gently. I nod.
A few minutes later, I’m back in bed, painkillers and herbal medicine downed. Ji stands over me like he pities me and I find myself enjoying the attention if I'm honest. I open my arms lazily, an unspoken plea for cuddles. He looks relieved, slides in beside me and holds my hand. Strokes my hair.
“You know…” I mutter after I have hidden my face a little. “You really are a good kisser.” It comes out soft, uncertain.
Ji grins. “I know.” The grin isn’t wicked, just full of quiet happiness. If I had the strength, I’d make sure he understood I wasn’t just drunk last night, but my thoughts move too slowly. For now, this is enough.
This and clinging to him. My hands bunching his shirt, my face buried in the crook of his neck. I’ve known him long enough, seen him with women. He loves that shit; he is a cuddler. Love boy.
And the best part is… so am I. Maybe it really should have been obvious all along. Maybe I’ve been blind.
“Go back to sleep, okay?” he says gently. I want to protest, but don’t. I doze off instead, drifting in and out. Whenever I jolt awake, he’s still there, smiling at me, one hand resting on me while the other scrolls his phone. He soothes me back to sleep every time.
When I wake up properly, it’s almost evening. My headache has calmed down. At some point, he must have pulled a blanket over us both.
“Feeling a bit better?” Ji asks and I pause as if checking. Then I nod. I do. Still tired, but not in pain. The painkillers must have helped but so did having him here. I just know it. And I’m not ready to let go, leaning into his side until he turns to face me, no longer on his back but on his side as well.
As cheesy as it sounds, looking at him now feels different. Things I always knew about him suddenly stand out sharper, brighter. He is so fucking beautiful.
My hand drifts up his chest without thinking, resting against his cheek. Stubble rough under my fingertips, skin warm, the faint smell of his cologne tangled with my detergent in the sheets. It’s good. Too good.
“Do you need to try something again?” he asks, smiling gently, his thumb stroking my arm. I nod.
Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in and press my lips to his. A peck, soft and careful, like testing the weight of something precious. He freezes, almost forgets to breathe, so I do it again - this time with the tiniest smile tugging at my mouth. It’s nothing like the messy, drunken kiss at the bar. This one feels deliberate. Sober. A choice.
He exhales slowly, eyes lingering on mine as if he needs a second to come back to himself. Then he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and lets out a quiet laugh, almost to himself. He shifts upright. “You should sleep more. And I should head home.”
He’s probably right. I can tell he doesn’t want to leave and I don’t want him to. But it’s better that way and I do need the rest. Only…
“Without… without kissing me back?”
It comes out more desperate than I meant, but once the thought slips out, I can’t take it back.
His brow arches, amused. “What?”
“You… you’ve never…” I trail off, suddenly too awkward to finish. I pull the blanket higher, hiding in it, which is ridiculous because normally I never shut up. But right now, everything is too much.
A few seconds pass. Then he tugs gently at the blanket until I let go.
His grin could kill me. “Sorry, you’re right. I can’t go without kissing you back.” He cups my cheek and leans down, finally doing it.
Soft and careful, but insistent. He doesn’t stop, not until the moment stretches into forever. When he finally lets go, he sighs against my mouth.
“There’s food in the fridge. Eat later, okay?”
I mumble something that might be a yes, still lost in the kiss. I want to pull him back, make him stay, but my arms are heavy and he’s already done so much. He leaves and I don’t stay awake for long. Just long enough to realise that if this is a bad idea, it’s already too late. And somehow I don’t think it is.
----------
A couple of days later - ugh, busy guy, always busy - I’m standing in the elevator up to his place. Waiting to see him again has driven me half-crazy. Sure, we texted and it was… cute. But not enough. I may not have waited as long as he has, but he’s clearly better at it than I am. Because when he opens the door, my coat is already undone and underneath I’m wearing nothing but a black underwear set.
Ji was about to pull me into a hug, but then stops. Then he bursts out laughing. Hard.
My brows knit immediately, because hello, this is supposed to be curves-curves-curves, not comedy hour. I push inside quickly, the door shutting behind me.
He’s still laughing, hand over his face.
“What the hell - you can’t - stop, you -” He can’t even finish through his laughter. My ego stings, so I toss my purse down, kick my shoes off and stalk past him.
“No, oh god, noooo. You look amazing.” he gets out between laughs, following me. He tries to slide an arm around me. I resist, then give in with a pout.
“It’s just… you surprised me, okay? I need a second to catch up. Oh my fucking god, you look so good. I can’t believe I—”
His eyes roam down my body and at least that soothes the sting. “
“Missed me THAT much?” he finally teases, cocky as ever.
I did miss him that much. But I wanted him flustered, not smug. Then again, this is Jiyong. Of course, he’s teasing.
Doesn’t mean he won’t crack eventually. He can do both. He is both.
“And here I thought we needed to have a serious talk.” he says.
“We can talk instead, if that’s what you prefer.” I shoot back, shrugging.
His grin only widens. He closes the distance, fingers gliding across my hips, pulling me in. Goosebumps rise instantly. His hands shake though and that makes my pout soften.
“If it helps…” he murmurs “I missed YOU a lot.” Then he kisses me like he means it. No hesitation, no awkwardness - like this is what we should’ve been doing all along. My arms wind around his neck and for the first time, it feels less like crossing a line and more like finally stepping onto the right side of it.
I drop the coat and go full drama. He stumbles a little, wordless, like he’s trying to put thoughts into sentences and they keep slipping away. I grin because I can see him unravel.
“Well, shit” he finally murmurs, looking up at my face. “Fucking finally.” He kisses me hard, then pulls back to grin. “Have you met my bed? You should. You two would get along.”
I laugh and let him herd me toward his bedroom. By the time we reach the bed, it’s chaos. Hands everywhere, his clothes half-removed, his laughter hot against my neck. The mattress swallows me and he’s on top of me. It’s not careful, not sweet. It’s everything that’s been waiting. He takes my lower lip between his teeth, groans when I arch up and grind. I can feel how much he wants this and it makes my head spin.
His hand slips between my legs and for a second, I can’t believe it’s real. It is real. It feels impossibly good. And the smug grin reappears when he realizes how damp my panties got simply from the thought of all this happening. Hands fumble my bra open, the little dimple appears when he smiles in the corner of his mouth because he has an idea… and then he pushes me onto my stomach, palm pressing into the small of my back. The change in position makes me gasp. I glance at the white sheets in front of me, wide-eyed and surprised, his fingers back between my legs, rubbing me until thighs shake.
His lips are at my ear. “I know you. I know how you like it.”
My eyes go even wider. Oh, good god. He does.
We’ve teased, we’ve joked, we’ve overheard each other’s stupid secrets for years. He knows the corners of me. He knows the way to make me melt and apparently even my favourite position. He moves my arms to lie beside my head, firm but careful, like he’s settling me in. Then he pulls my panties down, slides between my legs and I feel his cock press against my thighs.
“Shit, Ji… I…” The words fall out of me, jagged and useless.
“If you don’t want it, say it. That’s fine.” he murmurs, one hand gliding between the sheets and my stomach, then up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple. His touch is patient for a beat, then intent.
“No. I want it. I want it so bad.” I try to tilt my pelvis and meet him, but he pushes me back down with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. He reaches for the bedside table and its contents.
When he pushes in, it’s deep, right away, an angle that steals my breath and punches the world to white noise but slow at the same time. My cheek presses into the sheets. I clamp one hand around a pillow as he finds a slow, hungry rhythm. God. He was right. I do love this. The angle, his weight, the fact that it’s him - it scrambles me.
Each thrust drags over every place that makes me clench. His hand fists at my hip, the other slides up my spine in lazy, claiming strokes. He leans close enough that his breath hitches across the back of my neck. “Good?”
I answer him with a sound, a needy, raw moan. My hips tilt back without thinking, chasing him. He groans louder and drives harder until the bed creaks. The friction builds until I’m tight and trembling and soaked.
Then I turn my weapon on him. I know him as well. I know what makes him lose it. He is into good old fashioned blowjobs. And maybe a bit of risky semi-public hand stuff. But he fucking loves a dirty mouth.
“You’re so good at this.” I gasp, breath shaking. “You’re fucking me so well.”
He stutters, hips stalling for the briefest second. “Don’t-” he breathes.
I keep going, breathy and taunting. “God, you knew exactly how badly I needed it, right?”
He growls now, the sound equal parts laughter and hunger. “You little shit.” he says, realising what I am doing, then thrusts harder.
I smirk into the sheets. “What’s wrong, can’t take a little praise?” The last word ends in a moan because he is so deep inside of me and one of his hands grasps my wrist.
“Fuck you” he mutters, laughing now, though he doesn’t stop moving.
“You are” I shoot back, breathless and grinning, turning my head as far back as I can.
And that’s it - we both crack. Actual laughter, bubbling up between us, ridiculous and hot and so us. He’s still inside me, still moving, but the giggles shake through our bodies until finally he stills, forehead pressed to my back as he catches his breath. Why are we doing this? Just because we know each other so well doesn’t mean we HAVE to skip that slow close first time?
“I want to see you.” I manage, voice thick. I turn my head and he slides out, then rolls me over, easing me onto my back with the kind of slow care that makes my knees weak. He moves above me, hair falling into his face, eyes dark and searching. “Better?” he asks with that crooked grin, one hand on each side of my head. I nod and gently touch his face. He leans into the touch for a second.
So much better. Ji kisses me, mouth urgent and soft at once. When he pushes in this time, it’s even slower, more deliberate, a rhythm that makes everything feel like it’s aligning. Our mouths find one another between thrusts, messy and hungry. His hands cup my face, my nails drag his back until he groans. He traces lazy circles with his tongue across my chest and every noise I make summons a low groan from him.
It’s imperfect at times. Knees bump. We laugh into moans. His hair tickles my neck. It’s messy. It’s real. It’s gorgeous.
When I come undone, it is less fireworks and more of a long, building wave. It hangs between us, warm and endless and somehow more satisfying because it is not sharp and quick. I shake beneath him. He collapses over me, breath hot against my collarbone, kissing the hollow under my ear.
My eyes open. He’s looking at me with that soft intensity that makes me feel cradled. Ji presses a thumb against my temple, tracing slow, lazy lines. I have never felt so seen. I think he loves me.
Panic bubbles up in me, old habits twitching, doubts spitting their rehearsed lines. What if this burns out? What if he leaves? My chest tightens.
He reads it in my face, then shifts, easing out and pulls me into a sideways hug.
“Don’t… don’t get over me now that you have me, okay?” The words come without plan. I wasn’t even aware of that fear myself, but now that I can see how fucking happy I could be with him, the thought of losing that again is terrifying. Not sure if this is the moment I would like to do this… I wanted to bask in afterglow…
Jiyong looks surprised, his eyebrows move around in all sorts of emotions. “Are you really worried about that?” I shrug a little and then nod. Because… yo, even I think I am annoying. Fun as well. Even funny sometimes. But fucking annoying!
“I can’t… I can’t be too much this time. Not with you.” I murmur, scenes flooding my brain of exes telling me different versions of the same story, so I close my eyes again. Ji looks at me for a second. Then he uses his arms to push up, detangling our bodies. Only to then lean farer over me so I have to look at him.
“Okay. I need you to really hear this, yeah? You are… dramatic as fuck. You are so loud and… sometimes crazy annoying, I am not gonna lie.” I pout. Great. “But that is my favourite thing about you. And you are my favourite person. So basically it is what I like best ever… ever ever.” My face is hesitant, so he keeps going. “You’re a fucking weirdo. Why do you always have to drink so much when you know you can’t handle it. And why… why have you kept on dating these idiots? Why the hell did you buy that vacuum cleaner? Like… I am serious. That was so weird. None of that makes sense, but I love it… You have… passion for everything you do and I could never ever think you are too much. You showed up in underwear and a coat? That was so cool and random? And we just had like… fantastic sex, but also laughed during that? I… love… everything about you…” His face is so close to mine, Ji is pressing his lips gently against the corner of my mouth. “I have loved everything about you for years, so please don’t ever be scared of that. Not with me. You were looking for the one? The person who will be the last? Fucking hell, let it be me…”
My mouth twitches. I want to believe him with my whole body. The old scripts about being left whisper like ghosts. I push them down because he would not say this if he did not mean it. I know his coffee order, his kinks, his offbeat habits. And that he would not lie about this.
“Okay” I manage at last, a small sound that feels huge.
He laughs, delighted. “Okay? That’s it? I finally made you speechless?”
I nod and trace his cheek with my finger. “Thanks for waiting for me.”
He squeezes me close. “It’s fine. You’ll be in love with me in no time, I am just giving you time to catch up.” He winks, cockily sure, moving in for another kiss.
Maybe he’s joking to lighten the mood. But I think I won’t need very long.
Actually… I am probably already there.
<3
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Weeeeee, how are we feeling?
Other writers in the challenge, check them out: @gdinthehouseee @slut4kwon @moonqz @gds-daisy @wcnderlnds @igorluvr @gggtabi @seungsjo @steponupbabe <3
WOOOOOOW.. OMFG THIS WAS INSANE!!! Hands down the best thing I ever read on this fucking app. Credits to my girl @serenadeonacanoe! You are an AMAZING writer like it’s actually insane. Like the way you write keeps me entertained af like I wasn’t bored or skipped a part which is impressive because I get bored so easily 😔💔. All jokes aside you are amazing. Followed you the SECOND I finished reading this masterpiece. Can’t wait to read more of your art girl!
