AN: my cousin recently had her baby shower and in my delusional state i was inspired 😭 so enjoy this :)
Yes the jongho in the story is the jongho in the pictures ;)
The drive to your cousin’s house felt longer than it actually was, mostly because you kept stealing glances at him in the drivers seat.
Jongho looked… calm. Suspiciously calm.
One hand rested loosely on my thigh, the other tapping lightly against the door to whatever song was playing, his expression soft but focused on the road ahead. Meanwhile, your brain was running laps.
“Baby,” you finally said, breaking the silence, “you’re about to meet my entire family at once. Like… not just parents. Aunts. Cousins. Loud ones.”
He glanced over, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve told me.”
“No, like-” you laughed nervously, “they’re gonna ask you questions. A lot of questions. And they will comment on how you look. And they might-”
“They might love me?” he teased gently.
You groaned, leaning your head back. “That’s not the problem, i just hope they don’t overwhelm you.. and start asking questions they shouldn’t”
He raises an eyebrow at that “such as?”
“My family just like to be very nosy, next thing you know there telling you to get me knocked up because your playing with my cousins”
At that, he lets out a small chuckle, his hand on my thigh softly pats, and his thumb rubs soothing circles.
He reached over, squeezing my hand briefly. “I’ll be fine. I have you.”
You turned your head to look at him, softening. “You say that now.”
The moment you stepped out of the car, you knew it was over for him.
Not in a bad way.
Just… there was no escape.
Your cousin’s backyard was already full of decorations in soft pastels, balloons tied to chairs, tables covered in snacks, spanish music playing in the background, the low hum of chatter and laughter filling the air. The second someone spotted you,
“Y/N’S HERE!”
and just like that, heads turned.
You barely had time to wave before your aunt was rushing over, arms wide.
“There you are! Oh my-” her eyes shifted to Jongho and widened instantly. “And this must be him.”
You felt his hand settle lightly at your back in reassurance, as he stepped forward politely. “Hello, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”
That was it.
That was all it took.
“Oh, he’s polite,” your aunt said, placing a hand over her heart like she’d just been personally blessed. “We like him already.”
You leaned closer to Jongho and whispered, “It begins, be care-“
“Dear, would you come help us with the food?” Jongho nods, looking towards me with a small smile and walking behind my aunt as they put him to work instantly.
I sighed, “i warned him.”
Within fifteen minutes, he had been:
* hugged by three different aunts
* asked what he does “exactly” twice
* told he’s “too handsome to be real” at least four times
* and handed a plate of food he didn’t ask for
You watched from a few steps away, trying not to laugh as your cousin circled him like she was assessing him for long-term family approval.
“So you treat her right?” she asked bluntly.
“Yes,” Jongho answered immediately.
“No cheating, no nonsense?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you eat enough? You look strong but I need confirmation.”
You covered your face. “I’m so sorry.” I face palmed.
Jongho just nodded seriously. “I eat well yes, I can protect her. Thank you.”
Your cousin paused… then nodded approvingly. “Okay, I like him.”
You lost it, laughing as Jongho glanced over at you, eyes soft and amused.
What you didn’t expect was how easily he blended in.
At first, you thought he’d stick close to you the whole time but within an hour, he was helping your uncle set up more chairs, laughing with your younger cousins over something on someone’s phone, politely answering questions from your grandmother, who was absolutely enchanted by him, he already fit right in.
“Such a sweet boy,” she murmured to you when he stepped away briefly. “He looks at you like you hung the moon.”
Your chest tightened just a little. “He does that?”
“Mm,” she nodded knowingly. “Don’t let that one go.”
Across the yard, Jongho caught your eye, and sure enough, the second he saw you watching him, his expression softened instantly. Making his way towards you from across the yard, my heart couldn’t help but bloom with warmth so comforting and safe knowing Jongho would always go directly to me.
Yeah. You were done for.
The baby shower games started soon after.
You tried to warn him. “You don’t have to participate, they get a little crazy and competitive ,” you whispered.
He raised a brow. “You think I won’t win?”
“No, but i think you have your work cut out for you. Last family party game someone almost got a concussion from musical chairs.” you challenged.
His lips curved slightly. “Oh, so your worried about me.”
I scoff playfully, “please, don’t break anything baby”
“I’ll do my best, pretty.”
Big mistake.
Because somehow, your family dragged him into everything.
Guessing baby food flavors? He did it.
Balloon popping ankle race? He refused to lose.
Diaper-changing race with a doll? He excelled.
Baby trivia? He took it very seriously.
“Why do you know that?” you whispered as he confidently answered another question.
“I studied on the way here,” he admitted quietly.
You stared at him. “You WHAT?”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. That was the first sign that stuck with you.
You should’ve been concerned.
It was during the diaper game that something shifted.
You were paired together—your hands fumbling as you tried to secure the tiny diaper on a plastic doll while Jongho focused with intense precision.
“Hold it still,” he murmured.
“It’s a doll!”
“It still needs proper support,” he insisted.
You blinked at him, then started laughing. “You’re taking this so seriously.”
He didn’t look up. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The way he said it, calm, natural, made your laughter falter just slightly.
You watched his hands for a moment longer.
The moment felt frozen, like it was a shift in your relationship with him you wouldn’t realize until later.
Careful. Gentle. Steady.
“…You’re kinda good at this,” you admitted.
“I learn fast,” he said.
You didn’t respond right away.
Because suddenly, the idea of him holding something real, something small and fragile, didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
And judging by the brief glance he gave you…
Yeah.
He was thinking something too.
—
Later, once the games settled and people spread out again, you found yourself sitting together on a bench off to the side.
Your head rested lightly against his shoulder, his arm draped around you, thumb tracing absentminded circles on your arm.
“You survived,” you said softly.
He hummed. “Barely.”
You smiled. “They love you.”
“I noticed.”
There was a pause.
“They’re warm,” he added.
You looked up at him. “My family?”
He nodded. “Loud. But… warm.”
“That’s a nice way of saying chaotic.”
“I like it.”
Your chest did that thing again.
—
Across the yard, your cousin was opening gifts—tiny clothes, baby bottles, soft blankets.
Jongho’s attention shifted there, watching quietly as she held up a small onesie, everyone cooing and clapping.
“They’re excited,” he said.
“Yeah,” you murmured. “First baby in a while.”
He nodded slowly.
The air for a moment felt heavier, like there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to. Then, after a moment,
“Do you like kids?”
You blinked.
“…That’s a loaded question.”
He glanced at you, expression unreadable but soft. “Answer it anyway.”
You hesitated, then shrugged lightly. “I mean… yeah. I’ve always thought I’d have them someday. Just not like right now, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he echoed.
Another pause.
“Do you?” you asked.
His gaze drifted back to your cousin, who was laughing as someone made a joke about sleepless nights.
“…I think I would,” he said.
There, the air stopped again, or was it my heart?
Something about the way he said it, quiet, thoughtful, made your stomach flip.
—
The turning point came when your aunt handed you a baby to hold.
“Come on, you need practice,” she teased, placing the tiny bundle in your arms before you could protest.
“Tia, i was a teacher for a while, wait-” you laughed nervously, adjusting your grip.
The baby blinked up at you, calm and curious.
“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Hi…” i couldn’t help but coo softly at the bundle in my arms.
Jongho leaned closer, one hand instinctively hovering near your back, and one hovering on your arm.
“Support the head,” he murmured softly.
“I am!” you whispered back.
“You’re doing well… really well.” he reassured.
You glanced up at him and froze.
Because the way he was looking at you?
Was not casual.
It was soft. Warm. A little awed.
Like he was seeing something he didn’t expect… but liked.
A lot.
“You wanna hold them?” you asked, trying to sound normal.
He hesitated for half a second.
Then nodded.
Carefully, you passed the baby to him and the moment he took them, everything… shifted.
He adjusted instinctively, one arm secure, the other supporting gently.
The baby didn’t fuss.
Didn’t cry.
Just… settled.
Your heart did something dramatic and inconvenient.
“You’re a natural,” you said quietly. In awe with warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of Jongho’s gentle movements.
He didn’t answer right away.
Just looked down at the baby… then back at you.
And there it was again.
That look.
“…We’d be good at it,” he said softly.
Your brain short-circuited.
“…At babysitting?” you tried.
His lips twitched slightly.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Oh.
Oh.
“A mini- me, or a mini- you?” You poked, smiling softly.
Jongho mumbled softly to the baby before responding. “Doesn’t matter, it’ll be ours, and i’ll love them as my baby.”
—
The rest of the party passed in a blur.
Because now, every little thing felt… different.
The way his hand lingered at your waist.
The quiet glances he gave you.
The subtle, unspoken tension building between you.
It wasn’t pressure.
It wasn’t expectation.
Just… possibility.
—
By the time you said your goodbyes and got back in the car, the sun was setting, painting everything in warm gold.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
Then, “You handled that well, my whole family loves you, and your amazing with kids, are you real?,” you said. Causing him to chuckle while driving.
He exhaled softly. “Your family is intense.”
“I warned you.”
“I liked them,” he admitted.
You smiled, looking out the window.
“…They liked you more.”
“I noticed that too.”
A beat.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” you asked quietly.
“About what?”
You turned to look at him.
“…Us being good at it.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Just kept his eyes on the road.
“…Yeah,” he said finally.
Your heart skipped.
“And you?” he asked.
You hesitated.
Then, honesltly, “…Lowkey?” you said. “Yeah.”
He glanced over at you, a small, knowing smile forming.
“Lowkey,” he repeated.
You laughed softly, shaking your head.
“Don’t start planning names or anything.”
“I wasn’t,” he said.
A pause.
“…Yet.”
“Jongho!”
He laughed, really laughed, and reached over to take your hand again, intertwining hands over the middle console.
And somehow, the idea that had seemed so far off before, didn’t feel so far after all.
Warnings: Jongho’s so smooth he needs to be humbled lol, NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY
Authors note: when i tell you sometimes i’ll see quotes/videos and get the biggest urge thinking of it like “omg stfu jongho would do this” LOL, i write these in my notes app so i’m finally letting them be free 😭🤞🏼😋 but also if people have any random ideas i’d love to hear them!!! I want to see more Jongho EVERYWHERE PLS!!!! Also the photos i put represent the jongho i see in my head when i write these lol
It wasn’t technically that late at night. The soft ambiance of the living room dimly lit with the tv forgotten in the background, the left over takeout on the coffee table and three shared empty soju bottles later, it felt like you could fall asleep at any moment.
Perched on the couch, body facing jongho, legs tucked under me, with a soft lazy expression as i ramble to him over how my day went teaching my little class of kiddos,“- and it was so cute, Milly was smiling so big and with a single missing tooth showing it off to me, then jumped into my arms in a big hug, it made me feel so warm. I love those babies” the smile on my face only got softer when jongho just smiled in my direction and proceeded to scoot closer, grab me by the waist and drag me onto his lap.
“Oh!- jongho?” My arms went instinctively around his shoulders to steady myself, smiling down at him and leaning into him as his arms wrapped around my waist.
“You know.. you have the softest heart i know, it’s so lovely, pretty” jongho’s right hand pulls my hair to the side, leans in, and kisses my neck and shoulder slowly, biting it softly, he whispers
“Keep talking baby, I just love how your voice shakes when i touch you like this”
My heart was pumping so fast, i swear he could hear it himself. “I-I forgot what i was talking about” i chuckle awkwardly, causing jongho to smile at my reaction. “Your babies, Milly’s one tooth, I want to hear all about it”.
“Oh right, then I-“ another kiss on my neck, with his hands steady on my waist rubbing up and down my sides “we had a art project today about space and-“ another on my collarbone “the kids were so excited they got to paint like real artists-“ another at the top of my chest. “Jongho.” I whimper softly as a warning.
“Hm?” He lifts his head and quirks an eyebrow, “yes ma’m?” If i could’ve melted into the floor and just died i would’ve. “Your distracting me”
“I’m sorry i’ll keep my hands to myself” i didn’t believe him and it didn’t last for a second.
Warnings: too sweet? Lol lowkey not proof read so super srry 😅
Authors note: in the light of recent events, i wanted to create content that i haven’t seen yet/exist for latinxs (i am mexican lol) and i sadly never see anything ‘different’ for jongho especially. Hes my ultimate bias in ateez and i want to see more representation for him! LATINAS FOR JONGHO!! (mi gente latino) and this might or might not reflect my recent journey of nourishing my textured hair, after straightening it for 15+ years and coming to terms with it and how it connects to me and my culture :)
And also i’d like to remind everyone with everything going on, it’s okay to breathe, it’s okay to relax <3 joy is also a form of resistance❤️
The music really added to the ambiance of the night to come. The ritual of getting ready for a night out with friends is sacred when you want to look your best, and who cares if people think it’s selfish or arrogant. Looking good can equal to feeling even better and that’s the emotional confidence everyone should strive toward. However, with the music playing softly in the background, and my dark red tone outfit with matching gold accessories hanging on the closet door waiting for me, tonight felt like the night to remind myself and everyone "i am Latina and im proud of who i am".
But raking my brush through my sopping wet hair, water all over an old pajama top thrown on after the shower, curl cream and leave-in conditioner covering my hands and bathroom vanity, it began to feel like an over-stimulation nightmare. "Ugh! This is about to piss me off it it comes out bad" I half yell and grunt to myself, looking in the bathroom mirror, scrunching my hair to high heavens. My straightener, conveniently in the top drawer, right where i left it last almost 4 months ago. "Why are we yelling?" Jongho comes up to the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised in curiosity. "It’s time to dry this, and if it doesn’t come out how i wanted, i’m killing them and burning these curls again before i lose my mind" exasperated didn’t even begin to explain my voice, even though i know he didn’t deserve it, I can’t help it sometimes, "I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated to the max, and I just want to feel pretty tonight". Jongho doesn’t verbally reply, but he never has to. His body language and actions alone makes up for what he doesn’t say.
It reminds me of why i fell for him in the first place. Small token actions that would make my heart race every time. Some might call it the classic ‘opposites attract’ trope and wooyoung certainly pointed it out plenty for us. I was the loud mutual friend, drinking with the group, starting the party even if i had to dance solo, singing my heart out at karaoke nights, even if i knew jongho was going to wipe the competition out with his singing. And he was the subtle, silent, protector type almost. In a friend group outing i’d find myself drifting to sit next to him, and his arm naturally resting behind me on the back of my seat. Laughing at a joke mingi told animatedly, leaning back in my seat and finding the warmth of his body closer than i realized, "oh, sorry" leaning forward again, trying to brush off the faint blush on my cheeks, whether it was from the drinks or jongho, i’ll never tell him. "No, it’s okay, you can rest" he gently whispered while maintaining eye contact with a soft smile. Whether my brain made it up or not, i swear then, his eyes were like big brown sparkly diamonds. "Oh, thanks" i replied just as softly, afraid if i said anything else, i’d say too much. Reassured, i turned back around and leaned into his side, tuning back into the ongoing conversation that had vanished when he had spoken to me so softly and warmly.
People say drunk minds say sober thoughts, for me it showed through actions. I found myself nuzzling back softly into his side, feeling too warm yet too cold, i couldn’t decide, but jongho felt so warm, snd sturdy i couldn’t help myself. I shifted and crossed my legs towards his accidentally bumping his leg. I was about to apologize until my breath caught, his left free hand gently and slowly grabs my calf and holds it on his lap. Giving me plenty of time to retract if i wanted, but instead i shift and pull both my legs up onto his lap. His hand doesn’t hesitate to pull both my legs onto his lap, hooked over his right thigh, leaving his warm hand on my knee. Tipsy myself, i lean farther into him and nuzzle softly onto his shoulder already feeling warm and sleepy. "Woah she’s getting real comfortable with you huh" i didn’t even need to look to know Jongho had sent the member a pointed glare as they mumbled an accusing ‘my bad’ right after. At this point, i couldn’t care less who was watching, my unrestrained arm wraps around jongho’s waist as i shift my cuddling to his neck instead. "What’s gotten into you y/n?" Jongho whispers softly into my ear, i manage to look up at him as he softly raises his hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, were jongho’s eyes always this pretty? And when did he smell so good? He chuckles, vibrating his chest. "pretty, i appreciate it, but i could say the same about you". My eyes shoot open, "did i say that out loud?", he nods, leaning down to my ear, "let me take you home, pretty girl, you’ve had plenty tonight," and with a slight and nod and a smile, it started a path i never thought i’d be on.
My hand inched to the drawer with the straightener, but before i could pull it open, jonghos behind me, hand on the drawer keeping it shut. "Don’t, let me?" He moves as if he’s done this a million times. He grabs the diffuser, starts hover drying for me, all while i stand there, just watching him. The way I never had to tell him what to do, his observance alone astonishes me everyday. "Tilt to the side, pretty" he snaps me out of my trance and i tilt my head to let him start scrunching my curls to help shape them. "Did you do research? How do you know what to do?" He pulls on a coil softly, watching it spring back into shape, "i’m more watchful than you think, plus you never lock the door so it isn’t hard". "Why would i need to when it’s just going to block me from you on the other side?" I smirk playfully into the mirrors reflection, successfully catching jongho slight surprised expression and blush coating his apple cheeks. "If you keep talking like that, i’m afraid i can’t let you leave tonight’’. ‘’ huh? And why’s that?" He pauses subtly to look me in the eye, in the mirrors reflection, as he softly moves my hair over my shoulder, and plants a soft kiss on it’s wake, "I’ll need to remind you how much i love and adore you as my person, my home, my pretty girl’’. My mouth hung slightly agape in awe of his reply. ‘’ jongho, baby, you can’t say that to me right now, I’m not done but all i want to do is smother you in kisses right now". His cheeky smirk returned as he set the blow dryer down "when has that stopped you before?’’. A laugh cackles out of me at his honesty, "you know what, you’re right-". I jump up quickly, turning into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and start attacking his cheeks and neck with smacking kisses, instead of annoyance, his arms go to wrap around my waist cradling me to him. As i move down and start planting sloppy kisses on his neck, jongho’s face hides completely nuzzles into mine, with a soft sigh, he plants a slow kiss on my neck. "I love you the way you are, so please don’t change you, no matter what, you’ll always be, my pretty girl’’. The rush of affection aggression just intensifies, i defeatedly rest my head on his shoulder, letting a slight whine free "I appreciate and love you Jongho, so much it scares me sometimes". With one last kiss shared, jongho moves to sit on the toilet behind me, "oh did you need me to step out?" I ask, putting my hair stuff away, and grabbing what I need to do my makeup. "No, I just want to watch you and be near you, pretty." The smile wouldn’t leave my face even if i tried to frown.
Featuring: Ateez OT8 + Mina & Hyejin (reader’s best friends)
Y/N has always been told she’s “pretty for her size,” never quite enough in the eyes of others. But when she decides to step into a gym for the first time, she doesn’t expect to meet Jongho — the quiet, steady trainer who sees her differently from the start. Between awkward first sessions, lingering smiles, a jealous outburst at a party, and the slow realization that nothing between them is casual… she begins to learn what it feels like to finally belong.
Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2
The smell of roasted meat and soy sauce clung to the dining room, mixing with the faint trace of her grandmother’s perfume and the constant clinking of chopsticks against porcelain bowls. Y/N sat wedged between her younger cousin and her mother, shoulders tight, every muscle aching with the effort of pretending to relax.
Family dinners were always like this—warm, noisy, familiar… and exhausting.
Her uncle’s laughter boomed across the table as he filled another glass of soju, and her aunt scolded her cousin for chewing with his mouth open. It should have felt comforting. It used to, when she was younger. But now, every smile she forced felt like it cracked something inside her.
“Y/N, eat more meat,” her grandmother said, sliding another piece of galbi into her bowl before she could protest. “You look tired. But—” the old woman’s eyes flicked briefly down her body, quick as a knife, “—you’ve been eating well, haven’t you?”
It wasn’t cruel. It was just… her grandmother. The same tone she used to comment on the weather or the new curtains. And yet, Y/N’s throat tightened as if the words were barbed wire.
Her mother’s chopsticks paused mid-air. “Umma,” she scolded softly, though not strongly enough to stop her. “She’s doing fine.”
But then her aunt chimed in, voice honeyed: “Of course she is! She has such a pretty face, doesn’t she? If you just slimmed down a little, Y/N-ah, you’d be stunning.”
Her cousin snickered under his breath.
Y/N stabbed her rice with her chopsticks, pretending she hadn’t heard, pretending the heat in her face was just from the spicy kimchi jjigae.
She’d lost count of how many times she’d heard those words—such a pretty face if. Always if. Always conditional. As if her face was some fragile treasure buried under all the wrongness of her body.
“Don’t pressure her,” her mother said quickly, though her own eyes avoided Y/N’s.
But the conversation had already moved on. Her uncle was asking her younger cousin about university entrance exams, her grandmother complaining about the price of cabbage this season. For them, the moment was over. For Y/N, it echoed like a siren inside her head.
Later, after dishes were washed and leftovers packed into plastic containers, Y/N finally escaped into the night air. She tugged her coat tighter around her and walked quickly toward the bus stop, heels of her boots clicking against the pavement.
Her phone buzzed.
Mina: survived family dinner?? 👀
Y/N: barely
Y/N: they did the “pretty face if you lost weight” thing again
Mina: UGH
Mina: want me to come fight them??
Y/N: please do. bring a sword
Y/N smiled despite herself. She could always count on Mina to lighten things. A second notification popped up.
Hyejin: don’t listen to them. Want to meet up for coffee tomorrow?
Y/N: yes please. Need to vent before i combust
She slipped her phone back into her bag, sighing. Thank God for her two best friends. Without them, she wasn’t sure how she’d survive these dinners.0
The bus arrived with a squeal of brakes, and she climbed aboard, sinking into a seat by the window. The city rolled past in a blur of neon and headlights. She caught her reflection in the glass: round cheeks flushed, lips pressed tight, eyes a little too shiny.
Pretty face if…
She closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry in front of strangers.
The next afternoon, Y/N sat in the corner of their usual café, cupping her latte like it might keep her whole world from crumbling. Mina arrived first, sliding into the seat across from her, her nails painted neon green, her hair clipped up messily.
“You look like you just went twelve rounds in a boxing ring,” Mina said cheerfully.
“Family dinner,” Y/N muttered.
Mina groaned in sympathy, reaching across the table to pat her hand. “I swear, they’re like broken records. You should just play a recording of them and stay home.”
Hyejin arrived a few minutes later, balancing a tray of pastries. “I brought sugar therapy.” She set down a plate of croissants and cookies, her smile soft but worried. “Tell us everything.”
Y/N did. She told them about the comments, the way her grandmother’s voice slipped under her skin, the way her aunt smiled like she was offering a compliment instead of twisting a knife.
By the end, Mina looked ready to throw a punch, and Hyejin’s eyes were glassy.
“You know they don’t mean it to be cruel,” Hyejin said gently. “They just don’t realize how hurtful it is.”
“I know,” Y/N whispered. “But knowing doesn’t make it easier.”
Mina broke a cookie in half and shoved a piece into her mouth. “Then screw them. You’re gorgeous. And even if you weren’t—which you are—it doesn’t matter. You don’t owe anyone a damn thing.”
Y/N smiled faintly, touched by the fierceness in her friend’s voice.
Still, the words lingered. Always lingered.
That evening, when she got home, Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open. She typed ways to get healthier into the search bar. Then deleted it. Then typed beginner workout ideas. Deleted it again.
Finally, she typed: gyms near me.
The results popped up instantly. Sleek websites with glossy photos of toned bodies and smiling trainers. It all looked so intimidating.
Her heart pounded as she scrolled. She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing. She didn’t want to change just because her family said so. But… she wanted to feel better. Stronger. More in control.
Maybe, she thought, it didn’t have to be about them. Maybe it could be for her.
She hesitated a long time before clicking on one of the websites.
The Monday after family dinner dawned gray and wet, the kind of day that made every step to campus feel like a chore. Y/N balanced her umbrella and tote bag, weaving through the crowded quad until she finally reached the education building.
University was supposed to feel like a new beginning, but lately it felt like another version of the same old routine—studying, commuting, juggling her part-time job at the elementary school down the road. She loved working with kids. Their energy was wild, unpredictable, but real. Children didn’t care about her weight, only whether she could help with their spelling or join their silly games at recess.
Adults, however, were another story.
After class, Y/N stopped by the teachers’ lounge at the school to grab some water before heading into her shift. The room buzzed with chatter, older teachers catching up over coffee and paperwork.
“Y/N-ah!” one of the senior teachers, Mrs. Park, called warmly. “Come sit for a minute, you must be so tired with school and work.”
Y/N smiled politely and obeyed, sinking into the chair beside her.
“You’re such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Park said, giving her a once-over. “And such a pretty face, too. If you just lost a little weight, the boys at your university would be lining up, I swear.”
The other teachers chuckled, one nodding in agreement.
Heat crawled up Y/N’s neck. She laughed weakly, unsure what else to do. Here we go again.
“They don’t mean it badly,” she reminded herself as she gathered her things. But her chest felt heavy all the same, her throat tight.
At recess, when the children begged her to join their game of tag, she ran with them until her lungs burned, smiling as their laughter echoed across the playground. For a moment, she forgot the words. For a moment, she just felt like herself.
But the moment passed.
That evening, she sat slumped at the café again, Mina and Hyejin on either side of her like guard dogs.
“They said it at work this time,” Y/N groaned, stirring her iced Americano until it threatened to spill over the rim. “Not just family. Not just relatives. Teachers I respect. ‘Pretty face if…’ Always if.”
Mina slammed her drink down so hard the ice clinked. “I swear, people think it’s a compliment when it’s just straight-up insulting. Like, are they trying to ruin your day?”
Hyejin reached over and squeezed Y/N’s wrist. “You know it’s not true, right? You’re already beautiful. They just have narrow ideas about what’s acceptable.”
Y/N let out a weak laugh. “It’s hard to believe that when everyone keeps saying the same thing.”
Mina leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Okay, listen. You’ve been talking about wanting to feel stronger, right? Less tired, less stressed? Not for them—for you. Why not try the gym near campus? My cousin went there for a while. Said the trainers were nice.”
Y/N groaned into her hands. “A gym? Mina, I’ll look like an idiot. Everyone there will be toned and confident and I’ll be… me.”
“Excuse me,” Mina said, scandalized. “You’re fabulous. And anyway, you’ll have us cheering you on. Right, Hyejin?”
Hyejin nodded immediately. “Absolutely. And hey, if you don’t like it, you can always stop. But maybe it’ll help you feel better. Stronger.”
Y/N hesitated. She hated how the idea made her stomach twist—half fear, half something like hope.
“Just think about it,” Hyejin added gently. “Do it because you want to feel good in your own skin. Not because of them.”
Y/N sat at her desk with her laptop open, heart racing like she was about to do something scandalous. The gym’s website blinked back at her, all bright stock photos and peppy slogans.
We’ll help you find your strength.
Everyone starts somewhere.
Her cursor hovered over the Sign Up button for a long time.
Her grandmother’s voice echoed. You’ve been eating well, haven’t you?
Mrs. Park’s voice followed: Such a pretty face if you just lost a little weight.
Her friends’ voices cut through: Do it for you. You deserve to feel good.
Her finger clicked before she could overthink it.
She filled out the form, cheeks burning like she was committing a crime. At the end, a message popped up:
Thank you for registering! Your assigned trainer will contact you soon to set up your first appointment.
Y/N sat back in her chair, exhaling hard.
There was no going back now.
The gym bag sat on her bed like a dare.
Y/N had packed and repacked it three times already: leggings, oversized t-shirt, sneakers that had barely touched pavement since high school P.E. She’d even thrown in a water bottle and a towel, though she wasn’t sure if she’d ever gather the courage to actually use them.
Her stomach fluttered with nerves as she tied her hair back in the bathroom mirror. “It’s just a gym,” she whispered to herself. “Normal people go there all the time. Nobody cares what you look like.”
But she wasn’t convinced.
Every time she imagined stepping inside, she pictured rows of toned bodies lifting weights effortlessly, judgmental stares burning into her the moment she walked through the door. She pictured herself tripping over equipment, or worse—being laughed at.
Still, the confirmation email from the gym had been clear: her first session was today, at 6 p.m. And she was already running late.
By the time she reached the glass doors of the fitness center, her palms were slick with sweat despite the chilly evening air. The place looked even more intimidating in person—bright lights, walls plastered with motivational quotes, the faint thump of bass-heavy music pulsing through the glass.
What am I doing here? She thought, clutching her bag like a lifeline.
But when she stepped inside, she was hit with a blast of cool, clean air and… smiles. The receptionist, a young woman with a ponytail and warm eyes, beamed at her from behind the desk.
“Hi! You must be Y/N, right? Welcome.”
Y/N blinked. “Oh—yes. That’s me.”
The receptionist typed something quickly into her computer, then handed her a keycard. “Here’s your membership card. You’re scheduled with one of our trainers tonight—Choi Jongho. He’ll set you up with a beginner program. He’s really great with new members, so don’t worry.”
Y/N nodded mutely, clutching the card like it might vanish if she let go.
“And don’t stress,” the receptionist added kindly, lowering her voice a little. “Everyone’s here for their own goals. Nobody’s judging.”
The reassurance nearly made Y/N tear up on the spot. She managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”
In the locker room, she changed quickly, tugging at the hem of her oversized shirt, wishing it could swallow her whole. The hum of blow dryers and chatter of women swapping workout tips filled the space. Nobody paid her any mind.
She caught her reflection in the mirror as she tied her shoes—flushed cheeks, wide nervous eyes, shoulders tense. You wanted this, she reminded herself. For you. Just get through one session.
When she stepped back into the main gym floor, her heart thudded in her ears.
Machines lined the walls, weights gleamed on racks, and people moved in rhythm with their routines. But… nobody was staring at her. A group of college boys grunted over deadlifts without glancing her way. A woman twice her age jogged steadily on a treadmill. A teenager in a baggy hoodie was clumsily learning to use a rowing machine.
It wasn’t the picture-perfect magazine spread she’d feared. It was just… people. Sweaty, imperfect, focused people.
Relief loosened something in her chest.
“Y/N?”
She turned at the sound of her name—and froze.
Standing a few feet away was a young man in a fitted black shirt and track pants, a clipboard in hand. His dark hair was slightly mussed, his features sharp yet warm. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with an expression that managed to be both professional and approachable.
For a second, Y/N forgot how to speak. Oh no. He’s handsome. He’s ridiculously handsome.
“Uh—yes. That’s me,” she managed, her voice coming out embarrassingly high.
He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled just slightly. “Hi. I’m Jongho, your trainer. It’s nice to meet you.” He extended a hand.
She shook it quickly, praying he couldn’t feel how clammy her palms were.
“I know the first session can feel intimidating,” he said gently. “But don’t worry—we’ll take it slow. My goal is to help you feel comfortable here, not to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”
Something about the way he said it—calm, steady, no hint of judgment—made her chest loosen again.
“Okay,” she breathed. “That… sounds good.”
“Great.” He glanced down at his clipboard, then back at her. “So, Y/N, why don’t we start by talking about your goals? Not numbers, not scales. Just—you. What do you want to get out of this?”
Her lips parted in surprise. She’d expected him to ask how much weight she wanted to lose, or what size she wanted to fit into. Instead, he was watching her patiently, like her answer genuinely mattered.
For the first time all day, she let herself believe maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
Jongho led her toward a quieter corner of the gym, where a few mats and resistance bands were set up. Away from the thunderous clang of heavy weights, the space felt less intimidating—more like a classroom.
“Okay,” he said, setting his clipboard down. “First things first: don’t worry about what everyone else is doing. We’re just going to see how your body moves today. No pressure, no judgment.”
Y/N nodded, though her stomach still twisted. Easy for him to say. He looks like he was sculpted out of marble.
“Let’s start with some stretches.” He demonstrated a simple arm stretch, pulling one elbow across his chest. “Just copy me. Nice and slow.”
Y/N followed, feeling stiff and awkward. But Jongho nodded approvingly. “Good. See? You’ve got it.”
She almost laughed. It’s literally stretching. A toddler could do this. But something in his tone made her cheeks warm.
They moved through a few more stretches before Jongho set a resistance band on the floor.
“Okay, we’ll try some squats. Don’t panic—it’s just to see your form.”
Her eyes widened. “Squats? Already?”
“Don’t worry,” he said again, smiling a little. “I’ll guide you through it. Watch me first.”
He demonstrated, lowering himself with perfect control, muscles in his legs flexing easily. Y/N tried not to stare, but—well. It was hard not to.
When it was her turn, she hesitated. She hated squats. They made her feel clumsy, unbalanced, like everyone could see how awkward she was.
“Take your time,” Jongho encouraged. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Good. Now, lower slowly—like you’re sitting into a chair.”
She tried, wobbling slightly. Her knees angled inward.
“Not bad,” Jongho said, stepping closer. “But—if you don’t mind—can I adjust your stance?”
Y/N froze. “Oh—um. Sure.”
He crouched slightly, gently nudging her knees outward with the lightest touch. His voice stayed calm, professional. “There. See? That already looks better.”
She exhaled shakily and tried again. This time, the movement felt… steadier.
“Perfect,” Jongho said, a hint of pride in his voice. “That’s it.”
Something in her chest swelled at the word. Perfect. Nobody had ever said that to her about something physical before.
After a few more attempts, Jongho had her switch to light dumbbells.
“We’ll start small,” he explained. “Strength isn’t about the heaviest weight. It’s about consistency. Even two kilos will build up over time.”
Y/N picked them up, grimacing. “They don’t feel small.”
Jongho chuckled softly. “That’s the point.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
They moved on to the treadmill for a light walk. Y/N expected him to crank the speed until she collapsed, but instead he set it to an easy pace.
“Nothing crazy,” he said. “Just get comfortable moving. How does that feel?”
“Like walking,” she said dryly, then winced. “Sorry. That sounded sarcastic.”
But Jongho only laughed, a warm, low sound that sent a flutter through her stomach. “Good. Walking is exactly what it should feel like.”
For a few minutes, silence stretched between them, broken only by the whir of the machine. Y/N found herself sneaking glances at him. Up close, his hands were large but neat, his expression focused yet kind. He didn’t have the fake, exaggerated cheer she’d expected from a trainer. He was calm. Steady. Real.
When the timer beeped, he turned the machine off and offered her a towel. “You did great today.”
Y/N blinked at him. “Really? I barely did anything.”
He tilted his head. “You showed up. You tried. That’s already more than most people do their first day.”
Her throat tightened. She ducked her head, mumbling, “Thanks.”
As they wrapped up, Jongho walked her toward the exit.
“Do you have any questions before next time?” he asked.
Y/N hesitated. “Um… Is it normal to feel like everyone’s watching me? Because I swear every time I moved, I felt eyes burning into me.”
Jongho shook his head, smiling faintly. “It’s normal to feel that way. But the truth? Everyone’s too busy worrying about themselves to notice. Trust me—I’ve seen guys trip over dumbbells because they were so focused on their own reflections.”
Y/N laughed, surprising herself. The tension in her chest eased.
“Next session, we’ll add a little more,” Jongho said as they reached the doors. “But remember—this is about you. Not anyone else.”
She nodded slowly. For the first time, she almost believed it.
Outside, the evening air felt cool against her flushed skin. Y/N clutched her gym bag and let out a long breath.
Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t going to be as terrifying as she thought.
And maybe—though she’d never admit it out loud—her new trainer’s smile had something to do with that.
Jongho flipped through his clipboard notes as Y/N disappeared through the gym doors, the sound of her sneakers fading into the evening. He’d trained plenty of new members before, but something about her lingered in his mind.
Most beginners were either cocky or terrified. Y/N was clearly nervous, but there had been this quiet determination under it all. She’d shown up. She’d tried. That mattered more than perfect squats or flawless treadmill pace.
And then there was the other problem.
Jongho sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. She was… beautiful. Not just the way her smile had surprised him when she finally relaxed, or the way her cheeks flushed when she laughed. She was pretty in a way that hit him harder than he expected. Her curves, the softness she seemed so self-conscious about—he’d noticed it immediately, and it made his pulse jump before he forced his eyes back to the clipboard.
Professional, he scolded himself. You’re her trainer. Act like one.
But even now, as he jotted down her progress notes, he kept seeing the way her hair had slipped loose when she bent into a squat, or the concentration in her eyes when she held the dumbbells.
“Earth to Jongho.”
Jongho blinked, looking up. San leaned against the front desk a few feet away, smirking knowingly.
“What?”
San tilted his head toward the door Y/N had left through. “Your client. You were staring so hard I thought you were analyzing her soul.”
“I wasn’t,” Jongho said quickly, heat crawling up his neck.
San snorted. “Sure. Totally just staring at her form. For… science.”
“Her squat form needed correction,” Jongho muttered, focusing intently on his notes.
San’s grin widened. “Mm-hm. And her smile, did that need correction too? Because you looked pretty invested in that.”
Jongho snapped his clipboard shut. “Mind your own business.”
But San only laughed, already plotting.
Later that night, the dorm was loud with the usual chaos—Seonghwa scolding Wooyoung for leaving dishes in the sink, Mingi yelling over a video game, Yunho sprawled across the couch like it was his throne.
Jongho dropped his bag by the door and headed for the fridge, but San’s voice cut through the noise.
“Hey, guys,” San called, grinning like a cat about to pounce. “Guess what? Our little maknae has a crush.”
Instant silence. Seven pairs of eyes turned toward Jongho.
He froze, juice carton in hand. “…What?”
San waggled his eyebrows. “The new girl at the gym. He couldn’t stop staring at her. Like, full-on heart eyes.”
“Heart eyes?” Wooyoung practically shrieked. “Jongho? No way.”
Yeosang smirked from his corner. “That would explain why he was smiling at his phone earlier.”
“I wasn’t—” Jongho started, but Seonghwa cut in, calm but clearly entertained.
“So… she’s your client?” Seonghwa asked.
Jongho groaned, covering his face with one hand. “She’s just… new. I’m helping her adjust.”
“Helping her adjust into your arms,” Wooyoung cackled.
Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Our serious, professional Jongho? Crushing on a gym member? This is new.”
“It’s not—” Jongho’s ears burned. “It’s not like that.”
But the way his voice cracked betrayed him, and the room erupted into laughter.
Only San leaned in with a smug grin. “You can lie to them, but you can’t lie to me. I saw the way you looked at her. You’re gone, Jongho-yah.”
Jongho grabbed his juice and fled to his room before his ears combusted, the sound of the others still laughing chasing him down the hall.
The worst part?
San was right.
“Okay—one more rep. You’ve got this.”
Jongho crouched beside the bench as Y/N pressed the dumbbells upward with shaky arms. Her face twisted in concentration, a lock of hair sticking to her damp forehead. She muttered something under her breath—probably a curse at him—and pushed through the final lift before dropping the weights onto the mat with a heavy exhale.
“Done,” she panted.
“Good job,” Jongho said, passing her a towel. “Your form’s already better than last week.”
She shot him a skeptical look, cheeks flushed. “I almost dropped it on my face.”
He bit back a laugh. “Almost. But you didn’t. That’s progress.”
She rolled her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
And there it was again—that little smile that always seemed to catch him off guard.
He quickly busied himself with his clipboard, jotting down notes before his brain betrayed him any further. Focus. She’s your client. This is work.
But it was hard to ignore the way her shirt clung to her back when she leaned over to grab her water bottle, or how her laughter bubbled out when she told him about one of the kids at her school who had tried to hide crayons in his socks. She was bright in ways she didn’t seem to notice, and it was driving him crazy.
They moved to the treadmill next, Y/N walking briskly while Jongho walked beside her.
“So,” he asked casually, “how’s university? I don’t think I asked what you’re studying.”
She perked up a little. “Education. I want to teach elementary school.”
“That suits you,” he said without thinking.
Her head snapped toward him. “What?”
Jongho cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. “I mean—you seem good with kids. From the stories you tell. Patient. That’s… important for a teacher.”
Her expression softened. “Oh. Thanks. Yeah, I love working with them.”
The treadmill beeped, mercifully interrupting the silence that followed. Jongho adjusted the speed down and told her to cool off, but his pulse was still racing faster than hers.
By the time they finished the session, Y/N looked exhausted but pleased, cheeks glowing. She slung her towel around her neck and gave him a tired grin.
“I survived. Barely.”
“You did more than survive,” Jongho said. “You pushed past where you thought you’d stop. That matters.”
Her eyes lingered on him for a beat too long before she looked away. “Thanks… I guess I’ll see you next time?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Same time.”
She left with a little wave, and Jongho stood frozen, watching her until the glass doors swung shut behind her.
Later, in the staff room, he collapsed into a chair with his water bottle, dragging a hand down his face.
He’d trained dozens of clients before. He’d never had trouble keeping things professional. But with Y/N…
Every time she smiled, his chest did this weird flip. Every time she doubted herself, he wanted to shake her and tell her how wrong she was. And every time she looked at him with those wide, uncertain eyes—like she was bracing for judgment that never came—he wanted to prove, over and over, that she was worth more than she believed.
It was dangerous. Unprofessional. He knew that.
And yet, he couldn’t deny it anymore.
He liked her.
Really liked her.
By Thursday afternoon, Y/N was struggling to keep her eyes open in lecture. Her professor’s voice droned on about curriculum design while she doodled half-hearted flowers in the margins of her notebook.
When class finally ended, she stuffed her things into her tote bag and nearly ran for the door. She was halfway down the hall when someone called her name.
“Y/N!”
She turned to see Junseok, one of the guys from her education course, jogging to catch up. He was tall, with a friendly grin and messy hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.
“Hey,” she said, trying not to sound surprised. They’d worked on a group project once, but they didn’t usually talk much outside class.
“You looked like you were about to collapse back there,” he teased, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
She laughed nervously. “It’s been a long week.”
“Well, perfect timing then. There’s a party this weekend—kind of a mix of students from different majors. You should come.”
“A… party?” She blinked.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling wider. “It’ll be fun. Music, drinks, people to complain about classes with. You could use a break, right?”
Y/N hesitated. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a party that wasn’t some awkward family gathering. And Junseok… was he just being friendly? Or—no. She shook the thought away immediately. Guys like him didn’t flirt with girls like her.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, adjusting the strap of her bag.
“Do,” he said with a little grin. “Hope I see you there.”
As he walked away, Y/N felt a strange flutter in her chest. She shoved it down before it could grow.
That evening at the café, Mina leaned across the table, eyes shining. “So. Party this weekend. You’re coming, right?”
Y/N blinked at her, startled. “Wait—how do you know about it?”
“Because Seonghwa told me.” Mina twirled her straw dramatically. “He’s in my education seminar. Said he and his friends are hosting. And he told me to bring whoever I want.”
“Seonghwa?” Y/N repeated. She knew the name—Mina had mentioned her ridiculously polite, ridiculously handsome study partner before.
“Yes,” Mina said with a smirk. “And let me tell you, if his friends are anything like him, this party is going to be worth it.”
Hyejin raised an eyebrow. “So you’re inviting us because…?”
“Because we all deserve a night out,” Mina said firmly. “And Y/N especially. She’s been drowning in classes and work and—” Mina cut herself off, glancing at Y/N’s face. “You need fun. Real fun. Not Netflix-in-bed fun. Actual, wear-something-cute-and-let-boys-buy-you-drinks fun.”
Y/N groaned into her hands. “Why is everyone suddenly obsessed with me going to this party?”
“Because you need it,” Hyejin said simply. “When was the last time you did something just for yourself?”
Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again. She couldn’t argue.
Mina grinned in triumph. “Then it’s settled. We’re going. All three of us. And we’re going to make you look hot enough to knock the air out of every guy in the room.”
Y/N laughed weakly, already dreading the idea of squeezing into something that didn’t hide her curves. But her friends’ excitement was contagious, and a small, rebellious part of her whispered: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Saturday evening came too fast. Y/N stood in Mina’s bedroom, surrounded by piles of clothes, while Mina and Hyejin circled her like stylists prepping a celebrity.
“Not that shirt,” Mina said, tossing it onto the bed. “You’re not going to a parent-teacher conference.”
Hyejin handed her a dress instead—soft fabric, not too tight but flattering. “Try this. It’ll make your waist look great.”
“I don’t know…” Y/N fiddled with the hem. “What if I look stupid?”
“You won’t,” Mina said firmly, already attacking Y/N’s hair with a curling iron. “Trust me. If anyone looks stupid, it’ll be the people staring because they won’t know how to handle you.”
Y/N laughed, nervous but touched. Her two best friends really were a force of nature—like they’d decided long ago that if the world tried to tear her down, they’d just build her back up twice as strong.
When she finally looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Soft waves framed her face, her dress hugged her body in a way that felt daring, and a touch of lipstick made her lips stand out.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“Exactly,” Mina said smugly. “You’re going to kill them. Guys won’t know what hit them.”
At that, Y/N’s mind flickered—unbidden—to the image of Jongho’s smile, warm and steady as he handed her a towel after training. She shook her head quickly, heat rushing to her cheeks.
Why am I even thinking about him? she scolded herself. He’s my trainer. He’s gorgeous, disciplined, way out of my league. He’d never look at me like that.
The thought stung more than she expected, and she forced it away, pasting on a smile as Mina adjusted her necklace.
“You’re going to turn heads,” Mina declared.
“Maybe,” Y/N said softly. But in her chest, the memory of Jongho’s smile lingered stubbornly—sweet and impossible all at once.
The bass from the speakers thumped through the walls before they even reached the house. Y/N tugged self-consciously at the hem of her dress, her stomach fluttering as Mina and Hyejin marched ahead with the confidence of seasoned party veterans.
The door swung open to reveal a blur of noise and light—students crammed into the living room, red cups in hand, music pulsing loud enough to rattle the floorboards. The smell of pizza and beer mingled with perfume and sweat.
“Whoa,” Y/N muttered under her breath. “This is… not small.”
“Relax,” Mina said, looping an arm through hers. “You look amazing. Nobody’s going to notice you’re nervous.”
Before she could change her mind and bolt, Mina spotted someone across the room and squealed. “Seonghwa!”
Her study partner turned at the call, his face lighting up. He was tall, sharply dressed even in casual clothes, with the kind of polished charm that made him look like he belonged in a drama. He waved them over, and Mina wasted no time dragging Y/N and Hyejin straight through the crowd.
“Hey,” Seonghwa said warmly, leaning down to hug Mina before greeting the others with a polite smile. “Glad you came. I want you to meet my friends—”
Y/N looked up.
Her heart stuttered.
Because standing right there, holding a drink and laughing at something Wooyoung said, was Jongho.
For a moment, her brain short-circuited. The Jongho she knew wore black track pants and carried a clipboard, his voice calm and professional. The Jongho in front of her now wore a fitted dark shirt and jeans, his hair styled just enough to look effortless, his eyes brighter in the low party lights.
He looked… different. Relaxed. And somehow even more handsome.
Oh no, she thought. Oh, absolutely no.
“—these are my roommates,” Seonghwa was saying, motioning toward the group.
Hongjoong offered a small wave, sharp eyes glinting with friendliness.
San grinned and raised his cup. “Welcome.”
Wooyoung winked shamelessly. “Finally, someone to balance out Seonghwa’s seious vibes.”
Yunho gave a warm, boyish smile and a big wave. “Hi! Drinks are in the kitchen if you need one.”
Mingi, towering and cheerful, added, “And snacks. I made them. Please appreciate my nachos.”
Yeosang inclined his head politely, his expression reserved but kind.
And then Jongho noticed her. His smile faltered for a split second, his eyes widening just slightly, before he recovered with a polite bow of his head.
“Y/N,” Mina whispered, nudging her. “That’s your trainer, right?”
Y/N swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“Damn,” Mina muttered, smirking. “Now I really get why you’ve been going to the gym.”
Y/N elbowed her sharply, face burning.
Jongho was still looking at her—professional mask in place, but something flickering behind his eyes. She couldn’t read it, and the uncertainty made her throat dry.
“Do you guys want drinks?” Seonghwa offered, oblivious to the silent earthquake happening inside Y/N’s chest.
“Sure,” Mina said easily, pulling Hyejin along.
Y/N trailed behind, trying not to think about how surreal it felt. Of all the people to run into at a party—why did it have to be him? Why did he have to look so… good?
And why, in a room full of strangers, did she suddenly feel like every nerve in her body was aware of his presence?
Jongho hadn’t expected much from tonight. Just another crowded party Seonghwa felt obligated to host, a chance for the older guys to play polite and the younger ones to eat free food. He’d come because San and Wooyoung insisted, promising “bonding time.”
He hadn’t expected her.
The moment Seonghwa’s voice said her name, Jongho looked up—and froze.
Y/N.
In a dress. Hair softly curled. Lips painted with something that made them stand out even more. She looked nothing like the nervous girl in an oversized t-shirt gripping dumbbells at the gym. She looked radiant.
And she looked… out of place. Not because she didn’t belong, but because the second she walked in, the noise of the room dulled. Jongho swore it did.
His chest squeezed tight, heat creeping up the back of his neck.
What is she doing here? He thought, panicked. Does she know Seonghwa?
When her eyes landed on him, wide and startled, Jongho almost forgot to breathe. He gave a quick bow, trying to recover, but he knew his surprise had already shown.
She looked away first, following Mina toward the drinks. Jongho stayed rooted to the spot, heart pounding harder than it had during any workout.
“She looks… different,” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself.
The girls disappeared into the kitchen with Seonghwa, leaving Jongho standing with the others.
And of course, silence never lasted long around them.
San elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Well, well, well,” he said, smirk spreading like wildfire. “That was a reaction.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jongho said flatly, reaching for his cup.
“You don’t?” Wooyoung’s grin was wicked. “Because from where I was standing, you looked like someone just punched you in the chest.”
“Yeah,” Yunho added, laughing. “You went pale and red at the same time. Impressive, honestly.”
Mingi leaned against the counter, grinning. “So that’s the famous client San told us about.”
Yeosang, ever calm, just lifted an eyebrow. “The one you ‘weren’t staring at’ last week?”
Hongjoong sipped his drink like he was above the chaos, but the small smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “You should work on your poker face, Jongho-yah.”
Jongho groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re all imagining things.”
“Imagining her walking in like that?” San shot back, eyes gleaming. “Not a chance. You were gone the second you saw her.”
Wooyoung leaned dramatically against Yunho. “Our little maknae, crushing hard. Who knew?”
Jongho set his cup down with a little more force than necessary. “She’s my client. That’s all.”
“Mm,” Yeosang hummed, unconvinced.
Mingi waggled his brows. “Client now, girlfriend later?”
Jongho didn’t even make it three steps toward the hallway before San’s voice called after him.
“Running away won’t hide the blush, maknae!”
The rest of the guys erupted into laughter, and Jongho sighed, dragging himself back toward the kitchen island. If he left now, he’d never hear the end of it.
“Seriously, though,” Wooyoung said, grinning like the devil himself. “That was the most dramatic double-take I’ve ever seen. If this were a drama, there’d have been slow motion and background music.”
Yunho nodded solemnly. “Maybe even flower petals.”
“Or confetti,” Mingi added, snickering. “Lots of confetti.”
Jongho pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re all ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously observant,” San countered, taking a long sip of his drink. “Come on, Jongho. You’ve been sneaking glances at her in the gym for weeks. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Yeosang, perched quietly on a stool, spoke up with that calm, sharp tone that always cut straight through. “It wasn’t subtle.”
“Thank you, Yeosang,” Jongho muttered, not sure if it was worse that even he had noticed.
Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, clearly entertained. “You know, usually you’re the steady one. Serious. Professional. It’s… refreshing to see you rattled.”
“Refreshing for you, maybe,” Jongho grumbled.
“Hey, no complaints here,” Wooyoung chirped. “Watching you squirm is the highlight of my night.”
“Mine too,” San agreed, slinging an arm over Jongho’s shoulder before he could dodge. “So tell us, trainer-nim, what’s the plan? Gonna teach her how to lift… your heart?”
Yunho and Mingi choked on their drinks at the same time, howling with laughter.
Jongho shoved San’s arm off, his ears burning. “There is no plan. She’s my client. That’s all.”
San gave him a look of pure disbelief. “Right. And I’m secretly a physics major.”
Yeosang smirked faintly. “He does protest a lot.”
Jongho tried to glare at all of them, but it was useless. They were too busy enjoying themselves.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Think what you want. I’m going to get more water.”
As he poured himself a glass, their laughter continued behind him. He tried to block it out, but his mind betrayed him anyway, replaying the moment Y/N had walked in. The way her eyes had widened when she saw him. The way her dress curved at her waist, the faint shine of lipstick on her smile.
He clenched his jaw.
He wasn’t supposed to notice those things. Not about her. Not about someone who trusted him as a trainer.
But damn it, he had noticed. And no amount of teasing from his friends could make him admit just how .
The thrum of music dimmed the moment Y/N stepped outside. The heavy bass still pulsed faintly through the walls, but here on the back patio the air felt different—cooler, tinged with the scent of cigarettes and the faint sweetness of someone’s spilled drink.
A string of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, throwing a soft glow over the wooden deck. Students lounged around the railing, some talking in tight groups, others laughing loudly at inside jokes. Beyond the patio stretched a small yard, shadows spilling across the grass where a few more people sat in a circle, bottles glinting in their hands.
Y/N tugged her cardigan tighter around herself and hovered in the doorway. Her cheeks were still warm from the crush of bodies inside, and though the cooler air was a relief, she instantly felt exposed out here, as if the soft light made her stand out more.
“Come on,” Mina said, looping her arm through Y/N’s before she could retreat. “The air’s good out here. And look—conversation opportunities.”
Mina tilted her head toward a group of three guys leaning against the railing. Hyejin followed her gaze, then grinned. “They’re cute.”
Y/N groaned under her breath, but her friends were already moving, pulling her along like a reluctant accessory. The guys looked up as they approached, smiling in easy recognition.
“You’re Mina, right?” one of them said, pushing off the railing. “Seonghwa mentioned you.”
Mina’s face lit up like she’d just been cast as the lead in a drama. “That’s me,” she said brightly, introducing herself and Hyejin in one breath. Within seconds, the three of them had slipped into conversation, laughing over shared classes and mutual friends.
Y/N hovered a step behind, her fingers tightening around her plastic cup. She knew this rhythm too well—Mina’s radiant laugh, Hyejin’s soft charm. They made it look effortless, the way people gravitated toward them. Y/N was happy for them. Really. She just… never quite knew how to fit into it.
She was considering sneaking back inside when another voice spoke.
“Y/N, right?”
She turned. One of the taller guys had stepped away from the railing, his broad frame blocking the fairy lights for a moment. He had neatly styled hair and that kind of open, confident smile that belonged to people who never seemed to doubt themselves.
Her heart gave a nervous flutter. “Uh—yeah. That’s me.”
He chuckled. “I knew it. You’re in the education department too, aren’t you? Curriculum Design, last semester?”
Her eyes widened. “Wait—you were in that class?”
“Front row, mostly,” he said easily. “I remembered you from your presentation. On differentiated learning styles, right? You made a pretty dry subject actually interesting.”
Heat crept into Y/N’s cheeks. She laughed, flustered. “That? Honestly, I was rambling half the time. I thought everyone was asleep.”
“Not me,” he said, grinning wider. “I was impressed. Most people just regurgitate the textbook. You actually explained things.”
Y/N blinked. Compliments in academic settings weren’t new—teachers praising her effort, classmates thanking her for group project work—but this felt different. More… personal.
Still, she shook her head quickly. “You’re exaggerating. But… thanks.”
“Not at all.” He shifted a little closer, leaning one arm on the railing. “Anyway, I’m glad you came tonight. Didn’t expect to run into you at a party like this.”
Y/N gave an awkward little shrug, glancing at Mina and Hyejin still chatting animatedly with the other guys. “My friends dragged me along.”
“Lucky me, then.”
Her brows furrowed faintly, but before she could ask what he meant, he continued smoothly: “Can I get you a drink? Something stronger than water?”
“Oh—I’m fine,” Y/N said quickly, lifting her cup. “I don’t really drink much.”
“Fair enough.” He smiled again, teeth flashing under the string lights. “Then maybe I’ll just keep you company out here.”
Y/N nodded politely, grateful that he seemed friendly enough. She didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on her dress, or how his voice had dropped into that lower, softer register people used when they were interested.
To her, this was just polite conversation.
What Y/N didn’t realize was that she and her tall companion weren’t nearly as invisible as she thought.
A few steps away, clustered near the patio’s far railing, a familiar group of boys had claimed their corner. San leaned against the wood, Wooyoung perched on it like he owned the place, Yunho holding a drink in one hand as he laughed at something Mingi said. Yeosang stood quietly nearby, his expression calm, while Jongho stood slightly behind them all, shoulders straight, cup in hand.
He’d followed them outside to escape the noise. What he hadn’t expected was to see Y/N there.
And now, he couldn’t look away.
The tall guy was standing close. Too close. Talking to her with that easy confidence Jongho recognized all too well. And Y/N—sweet, oblivious, too trusting Y/N—was smiling politely, nodding along as if she didn’t realize half the words were dipped in flirtation.
Jongho’s grip tightened around his water bottle until the plastic creaked.
San noticed first, of course. He followed Jongho’s gaze, then smirked like a cat who’d found cream. “Ohhh,” he drawled under his breath. “What’s this? Competition?”
Jongho shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Drop it.”
Wooyoung, never one to waste an opportunity, leaned over Yunho’s shoulder. “Looks like Mr. Education Major’s working fast. Bold move.”
Yunho winced in sympathy. “He’s definitely flirting.”
Mingi snorted, towering beside them. “And she doesn’t even notice. Poor girl’s just nodding like he’s talking about class again.”
Yeosang sipped his drink calmly, eyes flicking between Jongho and the scene at the railing. “You’re going to break that bottle if you keep squeezing it,” he remarked quietly.
Jongho exhaled through his nose, forcing his hands to loosen. But his jaw stayed tight, his eyes locked on the tall stranger leaning closer to Y/N, smiling down at her like he had every right to.
She has no idea, Jongho thought, stomach twisting. She doesn’t see it. But I do.
The tall guy—his name was Hyunwoo, she remembered suddenly, from a group project two semesters ago—rested his elbow on the railing, angled slightly toward her. The way he leaned made it feel like the circle of people on the patio had narrowed to just the two of them.
“So,” he said, voice smooth, “are you seeing anyone right now?”
Y/N blinked. “Me? Oh—no.” She let out a quick laugh, embarrassed. “I’m way too busy with work and classes for that.”
His mouth curved. “That’s a shame.”
She tilted her head, confused. “Why?”
“Because,” Hyunwoo said easily, lowering his voice a little, “a girl like you shouldn’t be single for long.”
Heat rushed up Y/N’s neck, and she fumbled for words. “Uh—I don’t think that’s really—” She laughed nervously, cutting herself off. He was probably just being polite, right? People said things like that all the time without meaning it. Compliments, like sugar dusted on top of a drink. Pretty words that dissolved if you thought too hard about them.
“Seriously,” Hyunwoo continued, leaning a little closer. “You’ve got this energy about you. People notice that. I noticed.”
Y/N stared into her cup, suddenly desperate to change the subject. “Um… how’s your semester going?”
Hyunwoo chuckled. “Busy. But not too busy to notice someone interesting at a party.”
Her ears burned. He’s just being friendly, she told herself quickly. Guys like him don’t flirt with girls like me.
Across the patio, San nearly choked on his drink.
“Did he just say what I think he said?” he muttered, eyes wide with glee.
Wooyoung slapped Yunho’s shoulder. “Oh, this is gold. Look at Jongho’s face.”
Yunho winced. “That guy’s laying it on so thick.”
“Thicker than Mingi’s nacho cheese,” San quipped.
Mingi gasped. “Hey!”
Yeosang, ever calm, sipped his drink before adding, “He’s not wrong, though.”
Jongho said nothing. His jaw was set, shoulders stiff. He looked like a storm waiting to break. His eyes hadn’t left Y/N once, and every word Hyunwoo spoke seemed to land like a blow.
“You should go over there,” Wooyoung whispered mischievously.
“I’m not—” Jongho started.
“Look at him,” San cut in. “He’s practically hovering over her. Are you just going to stand here and let him?”
“It’s not my business,” Jongho snapped quietly, but the words rang hollow even to his own ears.
Meanwhile, Y/N forced a smile at Hyunwoo’s latest question.
“So what about you?” he asked. “Do you like to dance? They’ll clear space inside soon. I bet you’d look amazing on the floor.”
Y/N laughed again, but this time it was high-pitched, nervous. “Me? No, no way. I’m terrible at dancing.”
Her face burned hotter. She tugged her cardigan tighter, wishing she could melt into the railing. He’s just joking. Just being nice. He doesn’t mean it like that.
But still… a small, bewildered part of her wondered what on earth he saw that she didn’t.
Back at the other end of the patio, Mingi leaned down toward Jongho, voice booming in his attempt to whisper. “She doesn’t even realize he’s flirting.”
“Exactly,” Wooyoung hissed, gleeful. “She’s too sweet. He’s gonna think he has a chance.”
San grinned, eyes locked on Jongho. “Unless someone else makes it clear she’s already taken.”
Jongho’s grip tightened on his cup again. He could feel the plastic bending in his hand. His friends’ laughter blurred into the background. All he could hear was Hyunwoo’s voice, low and smooth, coaxing answers from Y/N like he had any right to.
And all he could see was the way Y/N laughed nervously, eyes downcast, oblivious to how close the guy was leaning.
Something twisted deep in Jongho’s chest, sharp and to his surprise a little possessive.
Hyunwoo leaned in, the fairy lights catching on the curve of his smile. “So tell me,” he said smoothly, “how is it possible a girl like you doesn’t already have someone chasing after her?”
Y/N blinked, startled. The words hit her like a foreign language. She laughed nervously, clutching her cup tighter. “Me? That’s… definitely not true.”
“It is,” he insisted, eyes locked on her. “You’re different. Not like everyone else here.”
Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say. Compliments like that weren’t meant for her. They never were. Not from tall, handsome guys who could talk to anyone they wanted. Surely this was just him being polite, maybe a little tipsy. That had to be it.
She looked away, searching for Mina or Hyejin, but they were still deep in conversation with their group. A flicker of unease stirred low in her stomach.
“Hey,” Hyunwoo pressed, his tone softer now. “Why don’t we go inside? The music’s good. We could dance. Or at least escape this draft.”
“Oh—I don’t really dance,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head. “I’d probably trip over my own feet.”
“I doubt that.” He chuckled, stepping closer, close enough that his cologne brushed the edge of her senses. “Come on. Just one song.”
Her throat went dry. She tried to step back, but her shoulder hit the railing. “I—I don’t think—”
“Y/N.”
Her name, spoken in a low, steady voice, cut through the air like a lifeline.
She turned—and froze.
Jongho stood a few feet away, posture straight, eyes fixed on her and Hyunwoo with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He wasn’t smiling. He looked calm, polite even, but something sharp simmered beneath the surface.
“You okay?” he asked, his gaze never leaving hers.
For a moment, Y/N could only stare. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
Jongho stepped closer, offering a bottle of water he must have grabbed on the way out. “Here. You’ve been outside a while.”
She took it automatically, their fingers brushing for the briefest second. Warmth shot up her arm. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Hyunwoo cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “We were just talking.”
Jongho finally looked at him, his expression neutral but unreadable. “Right. I could hear.”
There was nothing overtly threatening in his tone, but something about the way he said it made the air tighten. Hyunwoo blinked, then gave a stiff smile and muttered something about checking on a friend before retreating back into the crowd.
Y/N exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath. “That was—um. He was nice.”
Jongho’s jaw flexed. “Nice,” he echoed, voice flat.
She frowned slightly. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
He shook his head quickly, forcing his expression softer. “No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I was,” she said, though even to her own ears it sounded uncertain.
Behind Jongho, she caught a glimpse of his friends near the railing—San and Wooyoung both smirking like they’d just witnessed a show, Yunho and Mingi grinning not-so-subtly, Yeosang sipping his drink with a knowing look.
Jongho ignored them, his gaze steady on her. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay polite. You can just walk away.”
Something in his tone—firm, protective—made her chest tighten strangely. She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay. I’ll… keep that in mind.”
Silence stretched between them, filled with the muffled thump of bass from inside and the faint laughter of partygoers around them. Jongho’s eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
“Good,” he said quietly. “That’s all I wanted.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered in a way she couldn’t explain. She looked away quickly, pretending to sip her water, trying to ignore the warmth pooling low in her stomach.
Why does he always make me feel like this? She wondered. He’s just my trainer. He’s just being nice. That’s all.
But still—when she risked a glance back at him, his eyes were already on her.
The party had stretched on long enough that Y/N’s body felt heavy. The buzz of conversation and the steady thump of bass inside had started to blur into background noise, and the cool night air on the patio wasn’t enough to shake the weariness creeping through her bones.
She stifled a yawn behind her hand.
Mina noticed instantly. “Uh-oh,” she said, leaning in with a grin. “Somebody’s running out of battery.”
“I’m fine,” Y/N insisted, though the word dragged out with all the conviction of wet cardboard.
Hyejin laughed softly, her eyes kind. “You’ve been good tonight. Don’t push yourself if you’re tired.”
Y/N glanced toward the sliding door, where the beat of the music leaked through every time someone went inside or out. She didn’t want to ruin Mina and Hyejin’s night. They were still talking animatedly with the guys they’d met, still glowing in the warm attention of new friends. She didn’t want to tug on their sleeves and say, let’s go home.
As if reading her mind, Mina reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll be fine here for a while. You should head back. Get some sleep.”
“I can’t just leave you guys—”
“You can,” Mina cut in firmly. “And you should. You did amazing tonight. You came, you looked hot, you even talked to people. That’s more than enough for your first real party in months.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. Mina always had a way of turning the sharp edge of her nerves into something softer.
“Seriously,” Hyejin added gently. “Go home, Y/N. We’ll be okay.”
Before Y/N could argue again, a low voice spoke from just behind her.
“I can walk her.”
She turned, startled. Jongho had stepped closer at some point, his tall frame haloed by the glow of the string lights. His expression was calm, matter-of-fact, like he’d just offered to take out the trash instead of volunteering to escort her home.
Mina’s grin spread like wildfire. “Ohhh. Look at that. Chivalry lives.”
Y/N’s face heated instantly. “That’s not necessary,” she said quickly, waving her hands. “It’s not even that far—”
“It’s late,” Jongho said simply, meeting her gaze. “I don’t mind.”
Something in his tone—steady, quiet, leaving no room for protest—made her pulse stutter.
Mina and Hyejin exchanged a glance, their smiles widening. “Sounds perfect,” Mina said cheerfully. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”
Y/N shot them both a look that promised payback, but they only grinned wider, waving as if they were sending her off on a date instead of a safe walk home.
The street outside was a world apart from the crowded house they left behind. The bass of the music faded quickly, replaced by the hum of distant traffic and the occasional bark of a dog. The night air was cool, almost damp, carrying the faint smell of rain.
They walked side by side, the rhythm of their footsteps steady on the quiet pavement. Jongho’s hands were tucked in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but Y/N noticed how he adjusted his stride to match hers.
For a while, neither spoke. Y/N clutched her small bag against her side, eyes darting anywhere but him. She was hyper-aware of everything—the sound of her own breathing, the whisper of fabric when her cardigan shifted, the warmth radiating from him even with a few inches of space between them.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been alone with him. She’d had one-on-one sessions at the gym, of course. But this felt different. There was no workout plan, no treadmill timer beeping in the background, no clipboard in his hand. Just him, beside her, walking her home like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And she couldn’t stop thinking: Why?
Why had he offered? Why had he noticed she was tired at all? Trainers didn’t do that. Trainers didn’t walk their clients home after parties.
The question tangled in her chest until she finally blurted, “You really didn’t have to. I don’t want to waste your night.”
“You’re not,” he said simply. His voice was steady, calm.
Y/N glanced at him. His expression hadn’t changed—still even, still focused ahead—but she couldn’t help noticing the way the streetlight caught the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. She forced her eyes away before she could spiral.
She laughed weakly. “You must think I’m pathetic. It’s not even midnight and I’m already crashing.”
“I don’t,” Jongho said, quick and firm. “Not at all.”
Something in his tone made her chest tighten. She bit her lip, eyes fixed on the pavement as they walked.
Why does he have to say things like that? she thought, heart fluttering unevenly. Like he means them.
The steady rhythm of their footsteps filled the quiet street. Every so often, a car rumbled by in the distance or the wind shifted, tugging at the hem of Y/N’s cardigan. Otherwise, the night belonged to them, their silence threaded with something unspoken.
Jongho broke it first.
“How’s university?” he asked, his tone casual, as if they were back in the gym between sets.
Y/N blinked at the question, then gave a small shrug. “Busy. I feel like I’m constantly writing lesson plans or doing practicum hours at the school. Sometimes I wonder if I’m already a burnt-out teacher and I haven’t even started yet.”
He chuckled softly. “You don’t seem burnt out.”
“That’s because you only see me for an hour at a time,” she said dryly.
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile but was holding it back. “Maybe. But you talk about your students a lot. You sound like you care about them.”
Her chest warmed. “I do. Kids are… easier. They don’t filter themselves. When they like you, you know it. When they don’t, you really know it.”
“That honesty is rare,” Jongho said quietly.
Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the weight in his voice. He caught her look, then turned his gaze forward again, his expression unreadable.
To cover the sudden flutter in her chest, she asked, “And you? How’s sport therapy? I never asked why you chose it.”
For the first time that evening, his lips curved into a small smile. “I like the idea of helping people move again. Or move without pain. Strength isn’t just about lifting weights—it’s about living without limits. That matters.”
The earnestness in his voice made her throat tighten unexpectedly. She looked away, pretending to focus on a flickering streetlamp ahead.
They walked a few more steps in silence before Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re really good at making things sound meaningful, you know that?”
Jongho glanced at her. “I meant it.”
Her smile faltered. Something about the way he said it—simple, unwavering—made her stomach twist.
They passed a corner shop, its windows glowing faintly in the night. The hum of a vending machine buzzed against the quiet. Y/N tugged her cardigan tighter, hesitating.
“Can I ask you something?” she said finally.
“Of course.”
Her throat felt tight. “Why did you offer to walk me home? Really.”
Jongho’s stride slowed, just a fraction. “Because you looked tired. And I didn’t want you walking alone this late.”
“That’s it?”
He met her gaze, steady. “That’s enough, isn’t it?”
She looked away quickly, heart stumbling over itself. “I guess.”
A few more minutes passed before the words she’d been biting back all evening finally slipped out.
“Back there,” she began, voice quieter now, “when Hyunwoo was talking to me… you probably thought I was being stupid.”
Jongho’s head turned sharply. “Why would I think that?”
“Because…” She swallowed. “Because I didn’t even notice he was flirting. Not until Mina gave me that look later. I’m so oblivious.” She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not that it matters. Guys don’t flirt with me. Not really.”
Jongho slowed again, his brows pulling together. “Y/N—”
“It’s true,” she pressed, words tumbling out faster now that they’d started. “You don’t know what it’s like, hearing the same thing over and over. My family—‘pretty face if you just lost some weight.’ Teachers, coworkers—even people at the school where I work say it. Like I’m some project waiting to be fixed. Like everything about me is a problem, except maybe my face.”
Her throat burned, but the words kept spilling. “So when someone like Hyunwoo says something nice, I can’t take it seriously. I just assume he’s being polite, or drunk, or both. Because why else would he mean it?”
The silence that followed was deafening. Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears. She wished she could swallow the words back down, bury them deep where they couldn’t make her sound so pathetic.
But when she finally looked at Jongho, his expression wasn’t pity.
It was anger.
Not at her, she realized with a jolt—but on her behalf. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes burning with something sharp.
“They really say that to you?” His voice was low, rougher than usual.
“All the time,” she admitted, her voice cracking.
He exhaled slowly, visibly trying to steady himself. “That’s… wrong. They’re wrong.”
Her chest ached. She wanted to believe him, but the years of comments clung too tightly. “You don’t have to say that,” she whispered.
“I’m not saying it because I have to,” he said firmly, his eyes locking on hers. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”
Her breath caught. The quiet conviction in his tone was like nothing she’d heard before—no half-hearted reassurance, no shallow compliment. Just Jongho, steady and unwavering, like he meant every syllable.
Y/N looked away quickly, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes. She wasn’t ready to cry on the sidewalk in front of him. Not when she didn’t know what to do with the storm in her chest.
She forced a laugh, though it came out shaky. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”
For once, Jongho didn’t answer. He just kept walking beside her, his silence somehow louder than words.
The street stretched quiet and endless before them, lined with shuttered shops and dim apartment windows. Y/N’s heart beat too fast in her chest, like the words she’d already said weren’t finished, like more was still clawing ist way out.
“I know you mean well,” she said finally, her voice low, “but it’s not that simple. People don’t just… say those things and leave. They stay. In your head. Even when you try to laugh them off.”
Jongho was silent beside her, but his shoulders were tense, his jaw tight.
Y/N laughed weakly, the sound brittle. “Like, I’ll be teaching one of my students how to read, and in the back of my mind, I’ll hear my aunt’s voice—‘such a pretty face if you lost weight.’ Or I’ll be grocery shopping and wonder if people are looking at my cart, judging me. It’s… exhausting.”
Her throat burned. She wanted to stop, but once the floodgate opened, she couldn’t.
“And I hate it. I hate that it gets to me. That I let it. Because I know I’m supposed to love myself no matter what, right? That’s what everyone says these days. ‘Confidence is sexy,’ ‘just own it.’ But when it feels like every single person who’s ever looked at you is saying the opposite… it’s hard. Really hard.”
Her voice cracked on the last words. She bit her lip hard, desperate not to cry in the middle of the street.
They walked in silence for a few moments. The only sound was the faint hum of a streetlamp overhead and their footsteps echoing off the pavement.
Then Jongho spoke, his voice quiet but sharp with conviction. “You don’t deserve that.”
Y/N looked at him, startled.
He kept his gaze forward, his expression calm but his voice rougher than she’d ever heard it. “You don’t deserve to carry that weight around because of other people’s words. You don’t deserve to feel small because they can’t see past their own narrow minds.”
Her chest tightened.
“You’re not a project. You’re not ‘almost.’ You’re not an ‘if,’” he went on. “You’re Y/N. You’re strong, and you’re kind, and you care about people in a way most don’t. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”
The words hit her so hard she had to stop walking. She turned to look at him fully, her breath shaky.
He stopped too, turning to face her. His expression hadn’t changed—calm, steady, almost stoic. But his eyes… his eyes burned.
“Jongho…” she whispered, not sure what she wanted to say.
And then it slipped.
“You’re beautiful.”
The words were quiet but clear, hanging in the cool night air between them.
Y/N’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her chest.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Jongho didn’t look away. His face stayed steady, composed, like he hadn’t just changed the axis of her world with three words. But then she noticed it—the tips of his ears, glowing red against the soft spill of streetlight. The only betrayal of the storm beneath his calm surface.
Her heart lurched. He meant it. He hadn’t said it out of pity, hadn’t said it casually. He’d said it because it slipped past his guard, because it was the truth sitting in his chest too long.
Her hand moved before she thought about it. Slowly, carefully, she reached up, her fingers brushing against the warm curve of his ear.
The touch startled them both. His breath hitched just barely, his eyes widening the faintest fraction.
“You…” she whispered, her fingers lingering just a second too long, “…really mean that, don’t you?”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze locked on hers. “Yes.”
Just that. One word. Steady, unflinching, but the red burning across his ears betrayed him anyway.
Y/N pulled her hand back slowly, her fingers tingling, her own pulse roaring in her ears. She’d never touched him like that before, never been this close outside the fluorescent lights of the gym. The intimacy of it left her dizzy.
For a moment, they just stood there, the world hushed around them, suspended in that fragile, dangerous space between friendship and something else.
Neither moved. Neither dared to.
Jongho hadn’t slept much.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—standing under the dim glow of the streetlight, looking at him like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard. Her soft voice asking if he meant it. The feel of her hand brushing against his ear, warm and careful, like he was something delicate.
And his own voice, steady and unguarded, slipping out before he could stop it: You’re beautiful.
She’d rambled after, words spilling out in a nervous rush about how she didn’t know what to say, about how she wasn’t used to compliments like that, about how maybe he was just being nice. He’d let her talk, too stunned by the fact that she’d touched him, too busy memorizing the way her lips trembled when she was flustered, the way her eyes darted everywhere but him.
Even now, hours later, walking through campus, the memory clung to him.
She’s precious, he thought, adjusting the strap of his bag. The word startled him every time it floated up. Not pretty, not cute, not even beautiful—though she was all those things. Precious. Like every nervous laugh, every anxious ramble, every spark of determination at the gym was something he wanted to keep safe.
It was ridiculous. He knew that. She was his client, technically. He wasn’t supposed to think about her like this, wasn’t supposed to look for her in lecture halls when he passed by, wasn’t supposed to scan the crowds of students for her familiar hair, her cardigan, her careful smile.
But he did. Always.
And when he spotted her across the quad, laughing at something Mina said as they hurried toward their building, his chest tightened with something he didn’t want to name.
That afternoon, back at the dorm, the guys had set up camp in the living room. Controllers clattered as Yunho and Wooyoung battled it out on the TV, Mingi shouting instructions like a coach on the sidelines. San lounged on the floor, nursing a soda, while Yeosang sat perched on the arm of the couch, watching quietly.
Jongho had settled into the corner chair, hoping the noise would drown out his thoughts. But it didn’t take long for San to notice his silence.
“You’re awfully quiet,” San said, tilting his head. “Still thinking about last night?”
Jongho didn’t look up from his phone. “No.”
“Uh-huh,” San drawled, eyes gleaming. “Then why were you staring off into space just now like you were composing poetry?”
Wooyoung paused the game instantly. “Wait, what’s this? Jongho’s in love?”
“I didn’t say that,” San cut in, smirking. “I said he’s been acting weird since last night. Guess who he was walking home.”
The room went still for a second. Then Yunho grinned. “Y/N?”
Jongho’s head snapped up. “How do you—”
“You just confirmed it,” Mingi crowed, throwing his arms in the air.
Hongjoong wandered in from the kitchen just in time to catch the commotion. “What are we confirming?”
“That Jongho’s got a crush,” Wooyoung sang, bouncing on the couch. “A big one.”
Jongho groaned, pressing his palms over his face. “You’re all children.”
“Children who are right,” San said smugly. “You’ve been sneaking glances at her for weeks. And last night? You looked ready to fight that guy who was talking to her.”
Yeosang, quiet as ever, added, “You still are, technically. Your jaw’s tight just thinking about it.”
“Yeosang!” Jongho barked, betrayed.
But the others only laughed harder.
Hongjoong crossed his arms, smiling faintly. “So? Are they wrong?”
Jongho’s ears burned. He knew denial wouldn’t work—they’d seen too much already. And maybe, just maybe, holding it in was harder than admitting the truth.
He exhaled, shoulders sinking. “Fine,” he muttered. “Maybe… I have a little crush.”
The room exploded.
“A little crush, he says!” Wooyoung howled.
“Maknae’s growing up!” Yunho cheered.
Mingi clutched his chest. “I’m emotional.”
San just grinned, eyes sparkling with triumph. “Knew it.”
Even Hongjoong’s smile widened, though he shook his head. “Just don’t forget—if you really like her, be careful. She deserves someone serious, not a game.”
Jongho met his leader’s gaze, steady this time. “I know.”
And that was the thing. It didn’t feel like a game at all.
The gym was loud with the usual after-class rush: treadmills humming, weights clanging, music thumping faintly through the speakers. Jongho moved through it all on autopilot, clipboard in hand, but his focus was miles away.
He spotted her instantly.
Y/N stood by the front desk, adjusting the strap of her bag while she spoke to the receptionist. Her cardigan slipped off one shoulder, and she tugged it back up with that same distracted little frown she always wore when she thought no one was watching.
His chest tightened. Precious, the word rose again, unbidden, ridiculous. He gripped the clipboard tighter.
Professional. He had to be professional.
When she noticed him walking over, her face lit up with a small, shy smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, steadying his voice. “Ready for today?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She laughed nervously, shifting her weight.
He nodded and led her toward the quieter side of the gym, where mats and free weights were laid out. The others were busy enough that they wouldn’t be overheard.
They started with stretches. He demonstrated slowly, explaining each movement. She followed, her motions careful, hesitant, but he noticed how much smoother she already was compared to her first session.
“Better,” he said quietly. “You’re finding your balance.”
She looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”
“Yes.” He held her gaze a moment too long before looking away, heat rising in his neck.
Focus.
Next, he handed her a set of light dumbbells. “Let’s try a few presses. Remember to keep your core steady.”
She nodded, raising them. Her arms trembled slightly, but she powered through, lips pressed together in determination.
“Good,” he said, his voice softer now. “That’s it.”
Her eyes flicked toward him, searching, as if she wanted to make sure he really meant it. He did. Every word.
Halfway through the session, as she caught her breath on the mat, she glanced up. “You didn’t… tell the others about last night, did you?”
Jongho froze. His mind flashed back to the street, to her hand brushing his ear, to the word he’d let slip before he could stop it.
“No,” he said firmly. “That’s between us.”
Relief softened her face. She smiled faintly, though her cheeks colored. “Good. I probably sounded like an idiot, rambling like that.”
“You didn’t,” he said instantly, sharper than he meant to.
Her brows lifted.
He exhaled, gentling his tone. “You didn’t sound like an idiot. You sounded honest. And that matters.”
She blinked at him, and for a moment, the noise of the gym seemed to fade.
Then she looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You really always know what to say.”
The words made his chest ache. If only she knew how much he bit back, how many things he didn’t say out loud. Like how he couldn’t stop thinking about her laugh, or how he scanned every crowd for her face, or how he wanted to burn every cruel comment she’d ever received until nothing of them remained.
Instead, he picked up his clipboard, forcing himself back into routine. “Let’s finish with a cooldown walk. Ten minutes on the treadmill.”
She followed him, stepping onto the machine. As the belt started moving, she glanced at him again. “Do you ever get tired of being in the gym all the time?”
He shrugged lightly. “Sometimes. But it feels different with the right company.”
The words slipped before he could reel them back.
Her head tilted. “What do you mean?”
Jongho’s ears burned. He cleared his throat. “I mean… training people who actually want to be here. Who are willing to try.”
Her lips curved in a small smile. “Oh. Well… thanks, I guess.”
She didn’t press. She didn’t need to. His heart was already betraying him enough.
When the timer beeped, signaling the end of the session, she stepped off the tredmill, flushed but smiling. “I survived again.”
“You did more than survive,” he said, handing her a towel. “You’re stronger than you think.”
Her fingers brushed his as she took it. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true,” he replied softly.
She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then nodded. “See you next time?”
“Yeah,” he said, watching as she walked toward the lockers.
When the door shut behind her, he sat down heavily on the bench, running a hand through his hair.
He was in trouble. Deep trouble.
Because every time he promised himself he’d stay professional, she smiled at him, or laughed nervously, or touched her hair like she didn’t know she was beautiful—
And he knew.
He knew he was falling.
The late afternoon lull had settled over the gym, most members trickling out as the sun dipped lower outside. Jongho leaned against the counter, scribbling quick notes into Y/N’s file—progress, posture, improvements. His mind kept drifting, though, back to her laugh earlier, the way she’d smiled faintly when he told her she was stronger than she thought.
“Caught you.”
He looked up. Jisoo, one of the other trainers, smirked at him from behind the counter. She was older than him by a year, sharp-eyed and annoyingly observant.
“Caught me what?” he asked flatly.
“Smiling at your clipboard like it just told you a joke,” she teased. “Or maybe like you were writing poetry.”
He frowned. “I was writing notes.”
“Mmhm.” She leaned an elbow on the counter, watching him. “You’re different when you train her, you know. Softer. Almost… sweet.”
His ears burned, but his face stayed stoic. “I’m the same with everyone.”
Jisoo snorted. “Please. I’ve seen you with San’s cousin—grumpy drill sergeant. With Y/N? Mister Encouragement.” She grinned, sing-songing, “You liiike her.”
Jongho exhaled sharply, snapping the file shut. “Don’t you have clients to check on?”
Her laugh followed him as he walked away, but her words clung stubbornly in his chest.
Her hair was still damp from the shower as she stepped out of the locker room, gym bag slung over her shoulder. She felt tired but light, the good kind of tired that came from moving, from pushing through another session without quitting.
She was halfway to the exit when she spotted Jongho by the counter.
And he wasn’t alone.
The female trainer—Jisoo, she thought her name was—stood close, leaning in with a bright smile. Jongho said something she couldn’t hear, and Jisoo laughed, swatting lightly at his arm.
The sight hit Y/N like a splash of cold water.
Of course. Someone like him—handsome, disciplined, kind—would naturally attract women like Jisoo: fit, confident, beautiful in ways Y/N couldn’t imagine being. They looked good together, easy together, like puzzle pieces that belonged side by side.
Her stomach twisted.
What were you thinking? She scolded herself. That he meant it when he called you beautiful? That it wasn’t just encouragement, trainer-to-client? That someone like him could actually—
She shook her head quickly, forcing herself to turn back toward the door. It was stupid to linger, stupid to hope.
But before she could slip away, a voice called her name.
“Y/N.”
She froze, heart lurching, then turned slowly. Jongho was already walking toward her, his expression calm as ever.
“You’re leaving?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She forced a smile. “I was just heading home.”
He nodded, then hesitated for the briefest second. “Wait.”
Her brows lifted. “What?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his composure faltering just slightly. “Can I… get your number?”
For a second, she just stared at him.
“My… number?” she echoed.
“Yes.” His eyes stayed steady on hers, unwavering. “For scheduling. Or if you have questions. It’ll be easier.”
Her heart tripped over itself. He wanted her number. Jongho—her trainer, steady, impossibly handsome Jongho—wanted her number.
But she quickly shoved down the flutter of hope rising in her chest. Friends, she told herself firmly. He just means it as friends. Or trainer-client convenience. That’s all.
Still, her fingers trembled as she handed him her phone. He entered his number quickly, then handed it back, his calm expression betrayed only by the faintest pink at the tips of his ears.
“Text me anytime,” he said simply.
She nodded, clutching the phone like it might vanish. “Okay. Thanks.”
He gave a short nod, then stepped back, letting her pass.
As she walked out into the fading evening light, her thoughts spun.
He had her number now. That was something.
But she told herself not to think too much of it.
Because why would someone like him ever mean it the way she wanted?
Family dinners were always the same.
The same table, polished until it gleamed under the chandelier. The same platters of food passed around like clockwork. The same voices rising and falling over each other, laughter sharp enough to slice.
And for Y/N, the same gnawing tension in her stomach before the first plate was even filled.
She told herself this time would be different. She had been going to the gym, she had new routines, she had… Jongho’s voice echoing in her memory, low and steady, telling her she was beautiful. That thought had carried her through the past few days, had kept her afloat when she might otherwise have drowned in her own overthinking.
But the second she sat down, it began.
“You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” her aunt said as she spooned rice onto Y/N’s plate without asking. “Though I can see you’ve been eating well too.”
Her uncle chuckled. “Still, she’s got that face. Lose a little, and she’d really shine.”
Another voice chimed in, light and casual, “Have you thought about cutting out carbs? It would make such a difference.”
Y/N gripped her fork tighter.
Her mother gave a nervous laugh. “She’s been exercising,” she offered. “She started going to the gym recently.”
“Oh, that’s good!” another relative said brightly. “Keep at it and you’ll drop the weight in no time. You’ll look amazing then.”
The words piled up, heavier and heavier. If. When. Almost. Not yet. Always conditional. Always just short of enough.
Y/N stared down at her plate. For years, she had forced herself to swallow the comments with her food, smiling, nodding, pretending it didn’t hurt. Tonight, the exhaustion pressed against her ribs until she could hardly breathe.
Her fork clattered against the porcelain, louder than she meant. The table fell silent.
“Enough.” Her voice shook, but it carried.
Dozens of eyes turned to her.
Y/N’s heart hammered, but the words poured out anyway. “Do you ever hear yourselves? Every time I come here, it’s the same thing. Lose weight. Change this. Fix that. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To sit here and be told, over and over, that I’m not good enough?”
Her aunt blinked, startled. “We don’t mean it like that—”
“Yes, you do,” Y/N snapped, her voice rising. “You say it’s concern. Or advice. Or just a joke. But it isn’t. It’s cruel. And I’m done smiling through it.”
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Her uncle frowned. “You’re being too sensitive—”
“No,” she said, pushing back her chair. Her legs trembled, but she stood tall. “For once, I’m being honest. And I don’t have to sit here and listen to this anymore.”
Her mother reached for her arm, her eyes wide. “Y/N—”
“I’m leaving.” Her throat burned, but her voice stayed steady. “I can’t do this tonight.”
The scrape of her chair against the floor rang in her ears as she grabbed her bag. No one stopped her. Or maybe they didn’t know how.
She walked out, the heavy front door closing with a final thud that echoed in her chest.
Outside, the cool night air stung her cheeks. She stood on the porch, trembling from head to toe, her breath uneven.
She should have felt relieved. For the first time in her life, she hadn’t swallowed it down. She had snapped back. Spoken up.
But instead, guilt twisted in her stomach.
She had raised her voice at her family. She had walked out in the middle of dinner. She could already imagine the whispers, the sighs, the stories they would tell about her being dramatic, ungrateful.
Her throat tightened.
She couldn’t go home yet. Not like this—not with her thoughts swirling so loud she could hardly hear herself.
Her feet carried her on autopilot, down the street, toward the one place that had started to feel steady.
The gym lights glowed faintly against the dark sky when she reached the building. She hesitated for a moment, bag clutched tight, then pulled the door open.
Inside, the place was nearly empty. The music played low, the machines quiet. Only one figure moved between the mats and the desk, tidying equipment with practiced ease.
Jongho.
Her heart lurched.
He looked up at the sound of the door, surprise flickering across his face before softening into something gentler.
“Y/N?” His voice was low, careful. “What are you doing here this late?”
Her throat closed, and for a second she couldn’t answer. She stood there in the doorway, all the words from dinner still clinging to her, heavy and sharp, until her vision blurred.
And when she finally spoke, her voice cracked. “I… I didn’t know where else to go.”
The gym was quiet, the kind of quiet Jongho secretly liked. With only a few stragglers left, the music turned down low, and the machines finally still, it felt less like a workplace and more like a sanctuary. He was straightening a rack of dumbbells when the door creaked open.
He glanced up.
And stopped.
Y/N stood in the doorway, the same outfit she’d worn mamy times—something casual but neat, clothes that clung a little tighter than she probably realized. Her cardigan was rumpled, her bag slung over one shoulder like she’d grabbed it in a hurry. But it wasn’t the outfit that caught him.
It was her face.
Her eyes looked tired, rimmed with the faintest red. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. She wore her heart on her face, raw and unshielded, and Jongho’s chest tightened instantly.
“Y/N?” His voice came out softer than he intended. “What are you doing here this late?”
She blinked at him, like she hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I… I didn’t know where else to go.”
The words tugged something deep in him. He set the dumbbell down carefully, fighting the urge to cross the room and close the space between them.
Instead, he cleared his throat. “I was just about to close up.”
Something flickered across her face—disappointment, sharp and immediate. Her shoulders dipped, her grip on her bag strap tightening.
The sight made his heart twist. He hated it—hated that she looked like she was about to crumple, right there in front of him.
Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “Have you eaten yet?”
Her eyes darted to his, startled. She hesitated, then shook her head.
He let out a slow breath. Of course she hadn’t. He could read it in her posture, in the way she held herself smaller than usual, like she was carrying too much weight on her back.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
Her brows furrowed. “What?”
“Come with me,” he repeated, already walking toward the counter to grab his keys. “You shouldn’t be alone when you’re like this. And you definitely shouldn’t be skipping dinner.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Jongho, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
The words came out firm, leaving no room for her to argue.
He slipped his jacket on, turning back to her. “Let’s go. We’ll find somewhere still open.”
For a moment, she just stood there, like she couldn’t quite believe him. Then, slowly, she nodded.
And when she followed him out into the cool night air, Jongho thought, not for the first time, that she had no idea how much she mattered.
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed softly as Jongho held the door open for Y/N. The little bell above it jingled, and the cool blast of air-conditioning brushed against their skin.
It was nearly empty—just a college kid at the far corner pouring hot water into a cup noodle, and the clerk slouched behind the counter scrolling on his phone.
“Here?” Y/N asked, blinking at him.
Jongho gave a small smile. “Here.”
She looked uncertain, but followed him down the aisles. He moved with the ease of someone who had done this a dozen times before, grabbing a cup of ramyeon, a packet of shredded cheese, and a bottle of strawberry milkshake from the fridge.
When Y/N arched a brow, he added an ice cream bar to the basket. “This is my comfort food kit.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Ramyeon… with cheese?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” he said, amused at her expression. “It’s the best combination after a long day.”
She gave a faint laugh, the first real one he’d heard from her tonight, and something in his chest eased.
They paid quickly and settled at one of the small plastic tables near the window. Jongho prepared the noodles, peeling the lid back carefully, dumping the cheese on top once the hot water had softened them. The scent rose rich and heavy in the air.
“Cheese ramyeon, strawberry milkshake, and ice cream for dessert,” he said, sliding the milkshake across to her. “Perfect balance.”
She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’ll thank me later.” He broke the disposable chopsticks in half, passed them to her, and opened his own cup. “Here. Eat.”
For a while, they sat in silence, the steam curling between them. Y/N took cautious bites at first, then bigger ones, until her shoulders loosened, the tension in her face softening. She sipped from the milkshake, eyes flicking to him, almost shy.
“It’s good,” she admitted.
He smirked faintly. “Told you.”
When they were halfway through, he set his chopsticks down, leaning back in his chair. His gaze lingered on her—on the way she stared down at her noodles like they might give her answers, on the way her cardigan hung heavy on her shoulders.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“Something did,” he said simply. “I can see it.”
Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. She looked down again, poking at the noodles with her chopsticks. For a long moment, the hum of the lights filled the silence.
Then, in a voice so soft he almost missed it, she said, “Family dinner.”
Jongho waited.
“They never stop,” she continued, her words tumbling out slowly. “The comments. The jokes. The little digs that they call ‘advice.’ Tonight it was the same thing—pretty face if you lost weight, you’ve been eating well, cut carbs. Like it’s their favorite song on repeat.”
Her hand tightened around the chopsticks. “And I snapped. For the first time in my life, I actually snapped at them. I told them I was done listening to it. And then I walked out.”
Her voice cracked on the last words. She set the chopsticks down, staring at her lap. “Now I feel like I ruined everything. Like I was ungrateful and dramatic. And I can already hear what they’ll say about me when I’m not there.”
Jongho’s chest burned. He wanted to go back in time, sit at that table with her, and shut every one of them up until she never had to hear those words again.
Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, doubtful.
“You told the truth,” he said firmly. “You defended yourself. That’s not ungrateful—that’s brave.”
She swallowed hard, blinking quickly. “It didn’t feel brave.”
“Because it’s new,” he said gently. “Because you’ve spent years letting them walk over you. But tonight you stopped it. That matters.”
Her throat worked as she looked at him, her eyes glossy.
Jongho wanted to reach across the table, to take her hand, to make her believe the words he could see she couldn’t believe yet. Instead, he nudged the cup of noodles closer to her. “Eat more. You need it.”
She let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Bossy.”
“Always,” he said quietly.
And as she picked her chopsticks back up, his chest ached with the thought that he would never get tired of being bossy if it meant she felt cared for.
The last of the noodles were gone, and the milkshake cup sat empty between them. The convenience store had grown quieter, the clerk yawning loudly behind the counter.
Y/N sighed softly, her chopsticks resting idle. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?” Jongho asked.
“For… this.” She gestured at the table, the food, the quiet corner. “For not letting me sit alone tonight.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”
Her lips pressed together. She hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t want to go home yet.”
Jongho studied her face for a moment, then nodded once, decisive. “Then don’t.”
Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Come on.” He stood, gathering the trash and tossing it into the bin with practiced ease. “There’s somewhere better we can go.”
The Han River stretched wide and silver under the night sky, the reflections of city lights rippling across ist surface. The air was cooler here, touched by the faint scent of water. Joggers passed occasionally, but the paths were mostly empty, quiet enough that their footsteps echoed.
“This is better?” Y/N asked as they walked along the riverside.
“Yes,” Jongho said simply. “Always.”
They strolled in silence for a while, the hush of the water soothing. Then, as they rounded a corner, Y/N spotted a basketball court under the glow of floodlights. The nets sagged a little, the lines faded, but the court was empty.
“You play?” she asked, glancing at him.
Jongho’s lips quirked. “Sometimes.”
Her eyes lit with mischief she hadn’t felt in days. “Bet I could beat you.”
He arched a brow. “Oh?”
She shrugged, trying to look casual, but the grin tugging at her mouth gave her away. “I played a little in high school.”
“Then prove it,” he challenged, already jogging toward the court.
The game started sloppy, with Y/N fumbling the first few dribbles and Jongho deliberately holding back. But soon she found her rhythm, her steps quicker, her throws sharper. She darted past him, sank a shot, and threw her arms up in triumph.
“Two points!” she crowed.
Jongho stared at her, momentarily stunned, then broke into a grin. “Beginner’s luck.”
“Please,” she shot back, laughter bubbling in her chest. “You’re just scared of losing to me.”
That sparked something competitive in him. The next round, he tried harder, blocking her moves, forcing her to pivot quickly. She surprised him again with a sudden spin, the ball swishing clean through the net.
He blinked. “You’re better than I thought.”
“Told you,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.
It felt… good. The rush of adrenaline, the echo of the ball against the pavement, the way laughter kept breaking free from her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t thinking about her family, about their words, about her insecurities. She was just here, in this moment, playing.
She dribbled fast, Jongho close on her heels. He reached for the ball, but she jerked it away, darting left. He lunged to block her, and their shoulders bumped hard.
The ball slipped, rolling across the court.
And in the scramble that followed, they collided.
Jongho twisted at the last second, instinctively turning his body so that when they hit the ground, it was him who landed flat on the pavement, Y/N sprawled on top of him.
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
Then Y/N burst into laughter—loud, unrestrained, helpless laughter that shook her whole body. Jongho blinked up at her, stunned, then started laughing too, the sound deep and warm.
It was ridiculous. They were a tangle of limbs on the ground, the ball rolling to a stop against the fence, their laughter echoing through the empty court.
Y/N pressed her forehead briefly against his shoulder, still laughing, her cheeks flushed from both the game and the fall. “We look so stupid right now.”
“Very,” Jongho agreed between laughs.
She shifted slightly, realizing suddenly just how close they were. Her hands were braced on his chest, his breath warm against her hair. The laughter died down into softer chuckles, but the closeness lingered, heavy and warm.
For a moment, Y/N froze. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too hard.
Jongho’s eyes met hers, still sparkling from laughter, but something deeper flickered there too—something that made her chest tighten.
Then, slowly, carefully, he smiled.
And she laughed again, softer this time, the sound slipping out like a secret.
Their laughter slowly ebbed, fading into soft breaths and little sighs between them. Y/N’s cheeks ached from smiling, and her chest felt lighter than it had in days.
Still perched on top of Jongho, she realized just how close they were — his chest steady beneath her palms, his eyes still shining from laughter, his breath brushing her skin.
Flustered, she rolled off him quickly, landing on the ground beside him with a thump.
“Ow,” she muttered, though she was still grinning.
Jongho turned his head to look at her, amused. “Dramatic.”
“Shut up,” she said, but the words came out with no bite at all.
They both ended up flat on their backs, side by side, staring up at the wide night sky. The floodlights around the court made it hard to see the stars, but a few glimmered faintly through the haze.
“It’s not much,” Y/N said softly, “but… it’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?”
Jongho hummed. “Yeah.”
For a while, they lay in comfortable silence, the sounds of the river and the distant city filling the space between them. Their shoulders brushed every so often, just barely, and each time, Y/N’s heart fluttered.
They started talking without even realizing it — about little things, random things. Their worst professors. The weirdest food combos they’d tried. Childhood stories that spilled out half-embarrassed, half-proud.
Jongho admitted that when he was a kid, he’d once tried to deadlift a bag of rice to impress his grandmother and nearly fell flat on his face. Y/N confessed she had once snuck out of math class in high school by pretending to faint — but tripped halfway and made it look worse than if she’d just asked to leave.
Their laughter rose again, softer this time, like it belonged only to the two of them.
And as the minutes ticked by, they unconsciously shifted closer. Shoulders brushing turned into arms grazing, until their pinkies nearly touched. The warmth of him seeped into her, grounding her, wrapping around her in a way she didn’t want to lose.
Y/N turned her head slightly, her gaze finding him in the faint glow. He was already looking at her.
The air stilled.
Jongho’s eyes softened, something unreadable flickering there, something that made her breath catch. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned closer.
Her heart thundered. The world seemed to narrow, to hold ist breath with her.
And just as the space between them dwindled to nothing—
A cold drop hit her cheek. Then another.
She blinked, startled, and tilted her head upward. The sky, so hazy moments ago, opened up. Rain began to fall, light at first, then heavier, splattering against the pavement around them.
Y/N gasped, laughing suddenly at the absurdity. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Jongho let out a low groan, dragging a hand down his face as the rain darkened his shirt. “Of course.”
They scrambled to their feet, slipping on the wet ground, both laughing helplessly now as the downpour soaked them through. Y/N clutched her cardigan tighter, though it was already damp, and Jongho shook his head, droplets running down his hair.
“Come on,” he said, his deep voice barely audible over the patter of rain. “We need to get under cover.”
But even as they ran off the court together, laughing breathlessly under the sudden storm, Y/N couldn’t shake the memory of how close he had been. How his eyes had looked, inches from hers, like he was about to tell her the most important secret in the world.
The rain came down in sheets, soaking through Y/N’s clothes in seconds. They ducked under the half-roof of a riverside kiosk, but it did little good—the storm was sudden, heavy, and unrelenting. Water pooled at their feet, running in rivulets across the pavement.
Y/N shivered, clutching her cardigan tighter, though it was plastered to her skin by now. Beside her, Jongho pushed wet hair off his forehead, his shirt clinging to the solid lines of his frame.
She tried not to look. Tried.
He glanced at her, and for a second their eyes met. Her stomach flipped.
They hadn’t kissed. But they’d been about to. She knew it. He’d leaned in, his eyes soft, his breath brushing hers. She had wanted it—God, she had wanted it—and that realization left her dizzy.
But what did it mean?
He was her trainer. Her friend. Maybe. Probably. The rain was just a coincidence. Maybe he hadn’t meant to lean in at all. Maybe she was imagining it.
Her thoughts tangled, but the only thing clear was the warmth that still hummed in her chest.
Jongho cleared his throat, glancing at the downpour. “This won’t stop soon.”
“No kidding,” Y/N muttered, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.
He hesitated, then said carefully, “You don’t have to go home like this.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“My dorm is closer,” he said, his voice even but quieter than usual. “You can crash there. On the sofa in my room.”
Y/N’s eyes widened. “Your… dorm?”
His expression stayed steady, but she saw it—the telltale flush creeping up his ears, pink brightening against his damp hair.
Her heart stuttered. He’s serious.
“You’ll be more comfortable there,” he added quickly. “And you won’t get sick walking home.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the rain poured harder, pelting the roof until it roared. Her clothes were already drenched, her shoes squelching with each shift of her feet. Home felt impossibly far.
And Jongho was looking at her like he wasn’t offering out of pity or obligation. Like he genuinely wanted her there.
She swallowed hard. “…Okay.”
His eyes softened, and he gave the smallest nod. “Come on, then.”
Another crack of thunder split the sky. They exchanged a glance—and then, without a word, broke into a run.
❄️Summary: Either go home for the holidays, or cash in on a free 2 week vacation at a ski resort despite a massive dislike for the snow? The choice was easy, though when a stranger decides that you being alone for the holidays is a travesty, you don't seem to mind the snow at all; not when he's part of the scenery.
❄️Warnings/smut: a lil holiday depression/loneliness, hints of a not great family life, Jongho reading smut, petnames like Darling and Beautiful, some anxiety over the age gap (its like 5-7 years) smut warnings: fingering, penetration without a condom but IUD, a moment of cum-eating, creampie, some cockwarming.
❄️AN: This is for the @lapydiaries winter event with the tropes "Don't want to go home for the Holidays" and "Not a holiday person"! This is also for my secret Santa event in @mirohs-aurora-society, so, @yourlocaljonghoe I hope you love this! (though im sure you guessed it was me as well)
❄️Honorable tags: @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts, and @yourfatherlucifer for being my beta's as always <3 Banner and dividers made by me <3
Holidays were not your thing, neither was the cold, but this year you had to pick one or the other. Go home for the holidays, endure your family’s questions that were judgemental stabs posed as questions of concern, or use the free vacation you won to a ski resort?
The choice was easy.
You lied to your family, saying these were the only days you could cash it in, knowing that if you had just stayed home they would have bothered you anyways. So the plan was simple, just enjoy the fancy resort, as it had the hot tub and sauna, fine dining, great room service, and plenty of heat in the suite you secured. You could catch up on some books, work out in the gym, just… relax.
That was the best holiday gift you could give yourself, even if it was surrounded by snowy mountains and freezing cold. Stepping into the resort, the heat that seemed to immediately start melting the snow on your jacket and boots, the cold leaving you with a shiver down your spine.
It was definitely a nice resort, you couldn’t even tell there were snowy mountains all around from inside. Everything about the interior was warm and inviting, decorated for the holidays with garland wrapping around the giant oak pillars in the large lobby, an arched ceiling with intricate carvings on the wood, painted golden to match more of the gold accents all throughout the place. All of it flickering light from the stone fireplace against the wall furthest to the right of the doors, right past a curved staircase up into the second floor.
It looked like a nice area to cozy up with a book, considering to the left of the entrance, through glass doors, seemed to be the ski rentals and hub for skiers to head out. It looked a bit crowded, full of mostly men, or small families, even the workers behind the counter had on a thick sweater from the doors outside constantly opening from the foot traffic. You didn’t see yourself stepping in there at all, and no need to: there was plenty to enjoy here.
Like the room.
After checking in, you had found yourself in a grander room than you had expected, one of the smaller suites. The unfortunate thing was that it was in the wing most skiers were put, with a separate entrance so they could drag their snowy equipment up to their rooms. There was already a trail of snow in your hall, but the room itself made up for it.
A small metal fireplace in the corner, a chaise lounge just out of reach but close enough you could feel the heat, with plenty of space even with the massive bed on the other side of the bed, with an oak canopy with red velvet curtains and warmer bedding. But the bathroom, oh the large jacuzzi tub big enough to fit two of you with plenty of room to spare looked like heaven, especially with the accommodations of a bath table, candles, and a set of bath oils and bombs complimentary of the store you had won the room through.
And the view? You might not be the biggest fan of snow, but there was something breathtaking about the snowy peak and trees you could see from your balcony. Faced to the side of the mountain that didn’t have the ski slopes, the airlines that took guests up, it was pure untouched scenery. And somehow as relaxing as the small fire you started up.
Hours later, after a relaxing bath, and unpacking half of your things, you wanted to see what else the resort had to offer, especially since the sun had set and you were hungry.
With no one you knew who would criticize your outfit either, you dressed up for your own benefit, just to feel nice in your own skin, before heading downstairs to the restaurant and bar. While only the room and transport to and from the resort were paid for these two weeks, food and other things were on you; having been saving up for a vacation anyways, it wasn’t really a problem.
In fact, why not have a bottle of wine or some drinks with your dinner? Just to celebrate, well, yourself. A nice, stress free, relaxing trip as far from your normal worries as you could get. No shame in sitting at a table near the bar alone, no shame looking at the prices as your mouth watered at the long list of food they did have. No shame, just enjoyment, for once in your life. At least that’s how it felt.
It wasn’t so easy to turn yourself into vacation mode as you thought though, even as you had placed your order and sat with a drink in your hand, book open and eyes glued to the page. Even then, you were well aware of the couples and families around. The groups of friends, the joy they were having celebrating their holidays and each other. One particular group stood out to you, what looked like a bunch of men younger than you, all huddled around the bar with boisterous laughter ordering shots and talking about their skiing for the day.
There was a tinge of isolation felt in your core, and despite being in such a hurry to get away from everyone you knew, it unsettled you that you weren’t as happy being alone right now as you thought you would. No one judging every choice you make, to be disappointed in you or show fake concern for your lack of a love life and friends.
But there was no one to laugh with like that, to smile genuinely with and create memories to love for years to come. Your family would say your younger years were behind you now that you were “past your prime”, wasted away chasing a career that gave so little back. Maybe they were right, watching the group of men at least five years younger than you, maybe middle twenties, clearly enjoying each other and their holiday.
With a heavy sigh you downed the rest of your drink, turning back to your book to distract yourself. Though it wasn’t much of a distraction, as seconds later you found yourself glancing back up at the bar, this time finding eyes on you.
You didn’t expect him to wave.
A moment later, you also didn’t expect him to be standing at your table, two shots in his hands as he smiled down at you. “If you’re here alone, would you like to share a shot with me?” He hummed out, presenting the pretty soju shot to you.
Accept a shot from a stranger, or continue your dinner alone with just your book? Another decision that, in hindsight, would change more than you bargained for. Returning his smile with a pleasant one of your own, you took the shot. “I wouldn’t say I’m alone now.”
His grin turned flirty, motioning to the seat across from you for permission before he sat down once it was given. He was nicely dressed, a dark sweater, dark jeans, much like a dress casual as you were wearing as well, and less gaudy than most of his other friends.
“Thank you for accepting, I’m Choi Jongho. Is this your first day here?” He immediately started with the questions, holding onto the shot as he leaned forward a bit.
It occurred to you he wanted something from you. Maybe he and his friends were making a joke about the old woman eating alone? Maybe he felt sorry for you? Or… You let your eyes dip down, taking in the sight of him once more, hoping that he was simply here because he thought you were attractive. Now that was an idea, a younger man approaching you just to flirt?
You gave him your name, smile turning a bit flirty just to see how he would react. “I arrived about midday so yeah, first day here. You’re with your friends over there right?” You jutted your chin at the group at the bar, several of them staring this way with varying expressions. Some in disbelief, some proud, some worried. “Mind filling me in why you decided to leave them to sit with little ol’ me?” Now you leaned forward, purposely pushing your breasts together for the bit of cleavage that was on display.
Only because you were expecting it did you notice the subtle glance and the darkening of his cheeks. “We sort of fought for who would come over here, and I won.” He grinned in triumph, holding up the shot glass. “My lucky day. So a shot to new friends?”
Laughing a bit at his admission, you lifted the shot glass to his. “That’s cute, to new friends.”
With a clink, you both downed the shot, but he didn’t move to get up, instead charging forward right into the next question. “So, pardon me for asking, but why are you here alone just before the holidays?”
Your smile faltered, glancing down at your book before pushing it aside. Of course others would find it odd, it’s definitely not the norm. “The simplest answer would be that it’s just a vacation to give myself some personal time, no holiday stress and I won the room and travel expenses so why not?”
“So no kids or partner you have waiting for you at home?” He inquired, leaning in a bit more.
Shaking your head, you bit down on your lip softly. “No, no one. I was content spending the holidays alone.”
“I hear a but there.”
“Well of course you do. That but would be that now that you’re here, being alone doesn’t seem like the best idea. Wanna keep me company for dinner?”
He was eager to do so, quickly falling into conversation. You ordered some food for him, and he ordered a drink, starting off with just getting to know each other but with some mild flirting in the mix.
You had been right about the age, mid twenties, he and his friends had come up to spend their holidays here, some of their families had also come along but not his. He didn’t judge you when you admitted you just didn’t want to deal with your family for the holidays either, the “joy” of it nonexistent for you. In fact, he seemed more offended that you didn’t like the snow or skiing.
Somehow, by the end of dinner, he had convinced you to go skiing with him just once during your stay, insisting you have to. When you mentioned you had no equipment or gear, he offered to pay to rent it all for you, giving you no excuses.
Instead, you made a deal with him. You’d go skiing, if he read one of the books you had brought with you, since you had talked about your love for reading as one of the topics. You had made sure to clarify it was a romance novel, but he agreed, even if he had a light blush paired with his determined grin.
Once dinner was paid for, and drinks, his friends pulled him away and you could hear them hounding him for questions. One of the taller ones, with a deep voice, not so quietly asked “So is she single? Down to fuck?” before he had gotten far.
“Single, yes.” You called out, answering for him as you stood, feeling the few drinks really taking effect and giving you courage to say things you normally wouldn’t. “Down to fuck? That remains to be seen.” You sent a wink over at Jongho specifically, pleased when he got shy at the attention.
You weren’t against it, but really you had enjoyed just talking to him more than anything.
It was enough of a distraction that you went to your room without much thought of how you were going to give him the book; instead you were more flabbergasted at the fact he and his friends shared a few rooms right across from yours.
Well it made sense, since he had said they were there to ski, but it was oddly ironic. He hadn’t said anything else to you, but currently, a different friend was stepping into the hotel room with him, and luck had it that you caught his eye. He still seemed a bit shy after his friend’s comment, just giving you a wave before stepping into the room. At least you both knew which room you were in, so he couldn’t hide from you but you also couldn’t hide from him.
With eager anticipation, you constantly glanced at the door to see if maybe he would make the move and come to you. Perhaps you could get out of the deal if he didn’t come grab the book? After all, you didn’t want to go out in the snow if you didn’t have to. However barely a half hour had passed before there was a knock on the door.
No surprise to find him there, the confident smile from before back on his face. “So, about that book?”
Sighing dramatically, as if in defeat, you held up a finger before stepping further into the hotel room and grabbing the book you had set aside. “Here you go handsome, one smutty romance novel for you to read.”
“Smutty?” Ah, there was the shy guy from earlier, nearly fumbling the book as you handed it over. “But-”
“I did say it was an adult romance book.” Now you had a wicked grin on your face, hands on your hips as you tilted your head in question. “Backing out of the bet?”
He went stiff, shaking his head with determination. “Not at all, but, I’m upping the deal.”
You actually pouted out. “No fair- all because you were too busy staring at my tits than listening?”
“Totally not the case.” He was quick to defend himself. “If I get like, halfway through, then I take you out to the slopes to teach you how to ski. Because otherwise it’s dangerous if you don’t have some knowledge.”
You told yourself it was only because he had a point that you didn’t argue- and not because that meant more time with him. “Fine. Halfway then. And I’ll be quizzing you.”
“Make the questions hard then at least.”
“The hardest.”
“Oh? Is that also how you like it?” The drop of his tone, and the fact he was much closer than you realized, made the question quite provocative for your mind.
Now you were the one shy and flustered, scoffing because what else could you do? “Maybe you’ll find out.” You motioned to the book, knowing that the couple was passionate about each other, but in a way that was sweet and romantic. It was one of the softer books you had, but there was a reason the binding was worn out from how many times you had read it and why you chose this one for him to read.
If skiing was a love of his, you were sharing a love of yours.
“I see. Then I should get to reading. Goodnight Darling.” He held up the book as he took a step back, reluctant to leave you, but soon enough you were watching him shut his hotel door. Cheeks still burning from the pet name, you headed to bed as well, feeling like a high school girl who just got asked to prom by her crush.
You didn’t see or hear from him the next day, opting to stay in your own room and attempt to read your current book while snuggled up against the fire. You had ordered room service for snacks and the like, not even leaving the room once since the only reason you would knew where to find you.
Unfortunately he was on your mind the whole time, interrupting your thoughts and making it hard to focus on the book. A bit sad to go to sleep without a peep, the next day was promising.
He knocked early, a wide grin on his features when he saw you wrapped up in the hotel robe clearly just out of bed. “I got halfway. Meet me downstairs for breakfast and then skiing?”
To say you were shocked was an understatement, having begun to doubt if he really would read the book, or if he would do so with time for you to fill your half of the bargain. The fact he was younger was somehow intimidating- or maybe it was the insecurities that usually surfaced around this time of year- that had you questioning constantly if he really enjoyed your company.
So you were touched that he did manage so quickly. Even more so when he answered every single of your questions over breakfast down at the restaurant, showing enthusiasm for the story.
Though he was much more talkative about the skiing equipment as he dragged you to the shop to rent your own equipment. Before you knew it, you were shaking out in the snow but looked like an overpacked marshmallow with rosey cheeks under the hefty goggles. The snow made it difficult, waddling through it like a penguin which had him laughing in his own puffer jacket.
“It’s cold~” You whined for the dozenth time in the last ten minutes, finally making it to the kiddy slopes. Regret was just around the corner, but every time he did laugh it seemed miles away.
There was also a spark in his eye when he looked at you, gummy smile like a mini sun that made the biting cold melt away from your chest; your fingertips weren’t that immune yet.
“You’ll get used to it. Now, almost there. We’ll practice how to stand up at the top of this one hill and then I’ll have you practice going down it until you get the hang of it.”
“I dislike those odds. We’re going to be here forever!”
“I beg to differ beautiful, I think you’ll get the hang of it.” He winked, holding his hand out to help you up the small slope that kids half your size and smaller were managing to go down with ease. If he hadn’t thrown out another pet name that left you cooking in the puffer jacket, you might feel jealous of the kids for doing it so well.
So what if it took all two weeks to get the hang of it if he was teaching you?
The first unfortunate face plant into the snow was a harsh reminder that yes, it did matter how long you were out here. He laughed, but helped you up and dusted snow off your jacket while you puffed out your cheeks like you were the younger one.
“I want a refund.”
“No can do.”
Your protests fell on deaf ears as the teaching continued. Once the skis were on, you fell sideways on your first step. Then awkwardly onto your ass. Being bundled like a fragile vase did not make moving easy, but you were trying.
An hour, maybe a bit more, and you made your first successful, if not clumsy, trip down the small slope on skis. He came sliding down, stopping next to you with ease to help you up as stopping was something you still needed to practice.
This time though, you got payback: you pulled him down ‘accidentally’.
He fell on top of you, laughing at the clumsy entanglement you both were. Despite the ice cold snow against your back, he radiated warmth above you, that gummy smile back on his face you associated with pure joy. The smile was gone when you shoved a handful of snow down the neck of his jacket, starting an unfortunate battle between you both that had you rolling around in the snow, laughing and squealing.
Until you weren’t anymore, skis entangled you were pressed together in a tantalizing way that had you heating from the inside out. Staring up at him, admiring the beauty he was with literal steam radiating off him, you thought the winter sky was a beautiful backdrop. He looked at you as if he was staring at priceless art, wet glove easily sliding into the snow under your head to hold you still as he was leaning in.
Your brain was short circuiting as your eyes fluttered close, accepting the kiss you expected to come, but it landed on your bright red nose. Which, you hadn’t noticed, was so damn cold and snotty until his warm breath fanned over it. “We should get you inside before you become Rudolph.”
His teasing comment snapped you out of your trance and you slapped his shoulder playfully. His laughter was back, your cheeks just as red as your nose as he leaned back to easily disentangle you both.
The almost kiss wasn’t brought up, not even as he helped you back inside and up to your room. Whatever he was going to say at the door was interrupted by one of his friends calling out to him: it seemed they had afternoon plans. But he left you with a promise to take you back on the hill tomorrow evening.
He kept it, this time you learned how to stop, still pretty clumsy, but the praise and pride on his features every time you did well was enough encouragement to continue with the lessons. That night he invited you to dinner with him and a few of his friends, those that didn’t have family there, and you met Mingi, San, and Yeosang. It seemed the others were spending their evening with their families.
Mingi had been the one to ask if you were down to fuck, a comment he apologized for profusely when you joined them at the table. San was a gentleman from the start, doting on the quiet pretty boy next to him the entire dinner. In fact, so did Jongho and Mingi, a fact you found interesting and even called Yeosang the “baby girl” of the group. That seemed to be the comment that won their approval, and while you didn’t do much talking, you saw Jongho as his age for once.
Being the youngest of his friends, he was playful like a little brother and teasing the others. Even you couldn’t help jumping in on the teasing, pinching his cheek and cooing at him like a baby. After dinner you joined them for a game of billiards which they were quite competitive for, but good. You found yourself a comrade with Mingi, both of you failing almost miserably while both Jongho and San were toe to toe, carrying you both since you had split into teams with Yeosang as the resident cheerleader.
The biggest moment, for you at least, was when Jongho secured the win, the two of you cheering loudly until he was silencing yours with a kiss. You melted almost instantly, a dreamy look in your eyes as he pulled away a second later, blissful grin on his lips.
“Rub it in our faces, why don’t you!” Mingi huffed out while San was grinning like a proud papa, Yeosang holding his hand over his mouth completely shocked. On the walk back to the rooms, Yeosang became a bit more vocal and nosy about you both while San consoled a sullen Mingi.
But really you wanted to know where you were now standing with the man. He had been a stranger days ago, each evening almost like a date, and now you met his friends and shared your first kiss with him in front of them. Like a couple. Yet he was ushered into the room he shared with another friend, and you had no time to question him about it.
Christmas Eve was the next day, and despite pulling yourself out of the room and reading down in the lobby with the big fireplace, you didn’t see him once. Some of his friends you recognized, once more with family, but not him.
You did a video call with some family that night, the few you could stand easily, and went to bed early. For you, Christmas was another normal day, but the anxiety was beginning to settle in.
Was this a real thing with Jongho? Or was it just a fling? Would it end with sex and then forgetting each other the moment you left the resort? Were you okay with that?
You could hear the hotel doors opening and closing often during Christmas morning, having ordered room service you could hear the cheers and joy coming from the nearby rooms and the loneliness hit hard.
Somehow, like a sturdy rock, Jongho appeared before the heavy thoughts buried you. He knocked on your door, wearing a white fluffy hoodie and a cream colored bearlike beanie and sweats. He had a bag in his hand, that gummy smile back on his face and a near dreamy look in his eyes as he looked over your own cozy outfit. “Merry Christmas?”
Guilt tugged at your heart, as well as some other emotions, but you gently took the bag from him and smiled softly. “I didn’t get you anything though…”
“Don’t have to. We can just enjoy the evening together? Can I come in?” He presented another gift, a bottle of alcohol and juice to mix it with, both items you were familiar with since they made up your drink the night you met.
“Jongho… I’m really touched but you didn’t have to.” You stepped back to let him in, finding him absolutely adorable in the fuzzy clothes, reminding you once more he was younger. It shouldn’t matter, really, but perhaps after so much of your family’s nagging it was just programmed into your mind to hear what they would say, even if they weren’t there.
He shrugged, setting the gift down on the desk provided in the room and then looking around as to where to sit; it didn’t elude you that he avoided looking at the bed. “I know, but I wanted to.” He turned to you once you shut the door and stepped further in, the tension between you palpable, probably from the unresolved kiss. “You don’t have to celebrate, but I just want to spend some time with you today. Is that alright?”
As an answer, you made your way over and grabbed his hand, pulling him over to sit on the chaise lounge by the ongoing fire. You had him sit before going to grab the gift, coming back and taking the spot next to him. “Can I open this now then?” Your words were thick with emotion, a large part of you moved beyond measure by this simple gesture.
It’s barely been a week, you shouldn’t feel this strongly about a stranger.
But he wasn’t a stranger, smiling at you as if he was the sun that you basked in daily; looking at you as if you were his favorite sight. He was a wonder, bringing you to life in ways you didn’t realize you had been dead.
“Open it.”
With apprehension you did, eyes widening as the first thing under the tissue paper was the book you had borrowed him. Your eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, finding him a bit bashful. “I finished it.”
He did?
“You can quiz me on it later but keep going, there’s more.”
Licking your lips you turned your attention back to the bag. There indeed was more, a trilogy of books at the bottom of the bag, a series you weren’t familiar with but could tell would be good. All by the same author as the book you had leant him.
He started to ramble. “So the shop owner said this is a more recent series by that author, similar genre, and I thought you might like it because of how well worn the book is and-” The books fell to the floor as you reached over and grabbed him, cupping his cheeks to hold him still as your lips collided with his.
Why even question that first kiss when it didn’t matter? You wanted him, desire him physically and emotionally. Even if you never saw him after this retreat, you weren’t going to let the what ifs and questions stop you from taking this chance.
He kissed back with equal passion, matching your lips as you held him still. His hands found your waist, guiding you onto his lap as you were already moving there. Kiss after kiss, heating up the room more than the fireplace could.
“Darling- wait.” Despite your eagerness, he pulled away, breathing a bit heavy from the onslaught of kisses. “We should-”
“Talk? Maybe. But to be frank, Jongho, it doesn’t matter to me if I don’t see you after this resort, or if I do.” You slipped your hand up into his hair, knocking the beanie off and onto the floor. “I want you. I don’t want to have any regrets and I will regret it if I don’t take this chance with you.” It was a bit of a lie, you had a feeling you wanted to see him even after the snow had melted into spring and for the next winter and so on.
But even just these few days up in the snow covered mountains would be enough.
It was a sentiment he seemed to share, picking you with such ease you were squealing and holding on tighter.
“I was going to say move to the bed.” He teased out, already carrying you, a sly grin on his features. “But good to know you want me so bad. Or need me so bad?” He set you down on the edge, placing a chaste kiss to your nose before his hands began to wander. “I don’t have a condom though so-”
“I have an IUD. Don’t care.” Your robe fell open, the cute fuzzy pajamas exposed underneath. “I do need you so bad.”
His lips were on yours again in the next moment, no more words needed to show how much he needed you too. His hands did plenty of talking. They slid the robe off completely and tossed it onto the floor, your shirt coming off next while his lips only gave you a small reprieve to breathe before they were back on yours.
He gently inched you up more and more, lips trailing soft but needy kisses along your jaw, to your neck, nipping at the skin there. “So beautiful…”
Your hand found its way into his hair, tilting your neck back to give him more access as his lips trailed lower; over your collarbone, the expanse of your chest, right to your exposed nipple. The second his lips latched on you were tightening your fingers in the fluffy strands, his own fingers pushing down your sleep shorts.
Every touch was soft, but you could feel the passion and need for you. In the way his teeth scraped against your hardened nipple, to the soft way his fingers trailed over your thighs as he pushed the fabric off, your underwear as well. Soon you were bare beneath him, but he wasn’t in a rush as his mouth moved to give equal attention to the neglected tit.
When was the last time you felt so cherished? The emotions swirling in your chest are as heavy as the lust pooling into your lower stomach and between your thighs. It just made your need for him that much more suffocating, impatience surging up that resulted in you pushing him off to the side and quickly climbing on top. “You really think I am?” You questioned, biting down on your lip as you moved down his thighs to grip his sweats.
His hands grabbed your wrists, expression once more bashful. It was cute, how he could be so confident and in control one moment, and then you do something that makes him so adorable and shy. “Y-yes, I think you are.” His eyes ran down your body, still holding you still by your wrists. You could visibly see the lust clouding his gaze more and more, a subtle gasp leaving his lips when his eyes locked onto your pussy, just inches from his clothed member.
You were pleased by the way his grip tightened and the soft, almost whine he let out when you rolled your hips to tease him. “And I think you are adorable like this. I told you I need you, so please, let me have you baby?”
Dropping your hands, he instead gripped your legs just above your knees, watching with bated breath as you pulled his sweats down finally and exposed him more. The wet spot through the grey boxers had you salivating, tempted just to lower your mouth and get a taste. How would he react?
The temptation was too much to pass up, already leaning forward before he knew what you were doing. With sweet satisfaction he bucked his hips up as you mouthed at the wet spot, feeling his thick tip twitching beneath the fabric. Ah his reaction was so cute, nails digging into your knees and soft pants leaving him while he forced himself to watch. Still in the big fuzzy sweater, you thought he should keep it on, he looked so adorable after all.
“Please, Darling I-”
“Yes?” You pulled your lips away, instead rubbing your cheek against the twitching bulge while your hands worked his pants off, using your feet to help kick them off him. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
He didn’t answer, instead sitting up to grab the back of your thighs and pull you up until you were chest to chest. He manhandled you with ease, but with no aggression behind his movements, just desire. Desire he conveyed even more through the desperate clash of lips and teeth and mixed breaths of you both.
Desire you could feel once his underwear was off and he was pressing your wet lips down on his shaft, both of you letting out a sweet sound of pleasure at the touch. Oh he was thick and it had your inner walls throbbing to feel them around it.
But there was no way you could just take it without some pain, which he seemed to be just as aware of. Pushing himself up on one elbow while he tapped your thigh gently. “Lift, or lay down.”
“But I-”
“You’ll have my cock soon enough, beautiful, but I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed your cheek to soothe your protest, gently guiding you onto your back. Your legs fell open, making more than enough room for him which he took advantage of, his thick thighs spreading yours even further apart, eyes and hand running down the length of your body in admiration. “Are you sure about this?”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fingers threading through his soft hair once more. “DO you want me to beg? Because I will? Please please Jongho, I really want you. Want your cock inside me, want to be as close to you as I can, want- ah~” Your head fell back as his fingers rubbed between your slit before giving your clit the lightest pinch to shut you up.
He was smiling down at you with triumph, taking in the expressions you made as he used your slick to cover two of his fingers. “I get it, so needy it’s cute.”
With a pout you tugged on his hair, though it was instantly washed away when he pushed both fingers in with very little resistance. It had been so long, both fingers already feeling like a stretch inside, making you thankful he had insisted on prep. “N-not cute.”
“No?” He kissed the tip of your nose, pushing his fingers deep and curling them, chuckling at your reaction. “That’s definitely cute.”
“Says the one in a fluffy sweater.” You countered back like a brat despite your hips rocking up to meet his hand, practically putty as the two fingers explored your inner walls, finding the sweet spots that had your breath hitching or body twitching in response.
His smile turned gummy, now tugging at your heartstrings as you had grown to adore that smile. “Do you think I’m cute doing this to you?” To accentuate his words, his thumb started rubbing your clit in circles, humming at how pliant you became, only nodding to answer his question. “Should I take it off?”
Shaking your head, you gripped at his biceps, enjoying the fluffy material under your palms. “Wouldn't be able to think if you were bare.”
“I don’t think you’re doing a good job of thinking right now, Darling.” Slowly he spread you out, thumb increasing its pace just to have you soaking his hand even more. “I think you want to cum, don’t you?”
“A-are you going to let me?”
He chuckled, running his nose along your cheek before placing a kiss. “Of course. I can’t be mean to you.” He was already moving faster, fingers rubbing against your sweet spots he had found earlier in sync with his thumb. Both added more pressure, his thighs keeping yours apart as you started to writhe just a bit beneath him.
Tugging at the sweater on his arms, your eyes rolled shut to just enjoy the pleasure, head falling back into the pillows and shy moans leaving your lips as you realized just how much power he had over you. Yet he was treating you so gently, humming out soft praises about how good you were being.
There was a knowing smirk on his lips before you even started babbling out that you were going to cum, whining and tugging at his sweater as he kept up his pace. “Please, can I come? Can I please please Jongho- baby please.” You panted around the drool, forcing yourself to look up at him and pout between whines.
His grin just widened, glancing down between you both to see the ministrations of his fingers working you up and “then come Darling” to watch you soak his hand with your release, giving him such a sweet moan his impatience roared its head.
You were still twitching and panting as he pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth as he leaned back, guiding his thick member to your cunt while he licked his fingers clean. The contradiction of his actions paired with the fluffy mess of his hair and fluffy sweater was actually endearing.
Though that endearment was pushed to the side as he pushed in, the stretch made your eyes go wide and grab onto him once more. It wasn’t painful, but there was a tight pressure he clearly felt as well. “Fuck- still so tight.”
A whine was your only answer, huffing as you tugged on the fabric to ask for more. You wanted to feel more of him, be as close as possible.
Feel loved.
Because even in just these few days, you had felt seen and cherished and in this moment that was felt tenfold. The way his eyes flickered between your face and where you were joined, eyes soft and looking for any sign of pain.
He was so gentle as he pushed in bit by bit, pausing once he bottomed out and you couldn’t suppress the whimpers that left you even if you tried. The two of you locked eyes, silently checking in on each other before he leaned over and kissed you, stealing what little breath you had left away.
Arms wrapping around his shoulders, you wrapped your legs around his waist as well, pushing the sweater up. The soft fabric grazing your tits with every slow roll of his hips made the entire act softer. As your walls adjusted to his thickness, he picked up pace, panting against your lips before he picked you up.
Now in the air wrapped around him like a koala, he made a show of strength as he gripped just under your ass and moved you in sync with his thrusts. He felt so deep you were already shaking, burying your face into his shoulder and holding on tightly. “Jongho- Jongho please-”
“Please what?” He was breathless but was still thrusting up into you with ease. “Do you need more?”
Bashfully you nodded, gasping out in shock when he obliged. Now you were bouncing on his cock with such fervor your mind was filled with so much cotton you couldn’t think. The soft grunts and pants by your ear were a good indication he was enjoying this as much as you were, but you loved the whine he let out when you purposely clenched down around him.
“Fuck- you’re going to milk me at this rate Darling.”
“Want to. Want to be nice and full. Don’t want you to leave.” You panted out, head lifting to press your forehead against his cheek. “Want you to feel good too.”
“I feel amazing. It’s an effort not to cum in your pretty cunt right now.” He gently kissed your forehead, the softness making your heart lurch with affection.
You were down bad, and with the way he was fucking you, it was for more than just his heart. “Then don’t hold back. We can go again and again.”
He chuckled breathlessly, fingers gripping your soft flesh tighter. “Alright, remember you asked for it.” He went silent then, focusing entirely on chasing his release by fucking into you a bit harder.
Loving every thrust your head fell back, only your grip on him keeping you from falling back. Though with the grip he had on your ass you weren’t coming off his dick anytime soon- just coming on it.
Crying out as the pleasure hit you like a ton of bricks, you nearly did fall back but Jongho fell with you. Burying you into the bed like you had been buried in the snow beneath him as he gave a few erratic final thrusts before releasing himself deep inside. The groan he made tingled your spine and brain, unlocking chemistry that made you feel like you were in love at that moment.
Moments passed as he stilled and both of you struggled to catch your breath, but he didn’t pull out. Not even when he placed a kiss on your cheek and rolled over so you were on top of him, you were still seated on his softening cock.
His hands ran up and down your back and then down your thighs, tucking your head under his chin as his breathing regulated. “I don’t want this to be just a vacation fling.”
Smiling at his words, you hugged him as best you could, but were too worn out in the moment to even lift your head. “Doesn’t have to be. We live in the same city right?” It had been briefly mentioned before.
“Yeah… Will you see me there?” He sounded a little insecure over the question, which you were a bit surprised by.
“I’d love to, Jongho. Besides, there are more fun things to do when you aren’t surrounded by snow.”
He huffed at your comment. “Skiing is plenty fun and you still have to try the novice slope with me.”
Laughing softly, you took notice you could see it snowing on your balcony, knowing just how cold the pretty flakes were. But it was plenty warm in this hotel room, with the fireplace and Jongho under you with his fluffy sweater and warm embrace. “I did promise, and you did read my book.”
“It was a bit hard to, since I couldn’t stop imagining that spicy scene as you and I.”
At the admission you did lift your head, laughing at the blush warming his golden cheeks. “Really? You are so cute Choi Jongho, getting flustered over that after you just fucked my brains out.”
He couldn’t meet your eyes. “Well… I wanted to make sure I could compare…”
“Compared to what? What I read?” He shook his head, leaving you frowning. “Do you think I had a lot of lovers just because I’m older?”
Ah, Bingo. “Mingi made a comment that the older woman he had been with had shown him a lot of new things… I’m less experienced than him so I thought…”
You cut him off with a kiss. “Remind me to kick him in the balls when I see him next. I’m not that experienced, and even if I was you were more than perfect.”
There it was, that smile you adored so much lighting up his features. “Really?”
“Yes really. But-” Resting your head again you glanced back out at the balcony. “Now I think I need to quiz you on that book, see if I really should go skiing with you.”
His hold tightened with a whine. “Why do you want to get out of it?”
“Because the snow is too cold, and I like doing this more.” You huffed out in return, hands playing with the soft sweater.
“Then how about I warm you up just like this after every time we go outside and you get cold?” He prompted, laughing when you jolted up into a sitting position. “I take it you like that?”
With a nod, your grin widened. “I can certainly deal with some snow… especially since it’s not so bad with you.” No, the sight of him in all his ski gear was just as charming as he looked right now, all tousled from sex and blushing.
Snow definitely wasn’t so bad when he was there, so maybe the holidays weren’t that bad after all.
He took your hands in his, meeting your gaze and practically melting at his own. “So you like me, not the snow?” At your nod, he pulled you back down and kissed you softly. “Then I suppose I wouldn’t be against some summer vacation despite not liking the heat… you know, as long as you’re there.”
summary: For as long as you could remember, you had been running alone from the people who were after you, the people who killed your parents. Trusting someone wasn’t easy for you, but somewhere along the way, you met a certain werewolf who showed you that life didn’t have to be so lonely after all.
a/n: i know werewolf!au isn’t new anymore, but i’m recently SO into it and since it’s halloween, i thought it’s the best time to share this and see if anyone’s interested to read (or not) 😳This story is more romance than the supernatural stuff and if you like baekhyun&oc in nothing like us, i think you’ll love these two (bcs i do!!!) their banters are funny af especially seeing baekhyun trying not to lose his temper everytime oc provoked him and the sexual tension too aaaa but i was in a hurry writing this so the summary sucks and there might be some errrors :( but i hope it’s not too bad :)
synopsis : in which two rivals are forced into working together, making them the ‘it’ couple of the modelling industry. trailer.
pairing : seonghwa x reader.
theme ( s ) : romcom, angst & smut.
word count : 36.7K
“y/n for donatella versace!”
you grab a sip of the coffee, the only thing keeping you awake from your intense jet lag from a flight from new york to milan for the fashion week.
“okay,” you’re stopped, eyes closing as the makeup artists do the very last second touch-ups on your face. “you’re closing the show off with donatella in the middle, gigi on the left and you on the right.”
⎘ genre: mild enemies to friends to lovers, fake dating au, modern au, trustfundbaby!yeosang, student!reader, angst, fluff, smut.
⎘ warnings: the most wattpad-esque type shit i’ve ever written (fr a lot of this story is so unrealistic bye), unhealthy family dynamics, emotional abuse & manipulation, discussions of arranged marriage, so many stereotypical tropes (yes… there’s only one bed.), classicism, the reader hates capitalism but don’t we all? nsfw: switch!yeosang (extreme sub lean), switch!reader, nipple play, light degradation, edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia!!! (idk what it is about yeo but almost everything i write with him involves this kink… idk, it just suits him, okay?) use of pet names whore and kitten, implied oral (f receiving), implied cum play/eating, unprotected sex.
⎘ description: amidst scandals and parties, kang yeosang is on thin ice with his parents: one more screw up and he’ll be cut off. when he accidentally injures a college student, he quickly makes a deal with them to avoid being sued: attend her brother’s overseas wedding under the pretense that they are madly in love to save her from her mother’s plans to marry her off to a stranger.
⎘ word count: 20.3k
⎘ author’s note: i’m fr about to cry happy tears over the fact i finally finished this fic. this is the first long-form fic i’ve posted in over 6 weeks and, wow, does it feel good. this was supposed to be up on yeosang’s birthday but, unfortunately, life decided i was in need of writer’s block and basically condemned all my wips to suffer because of it. that said, i’m giving a major disclaimer!! alot of this was written in the height of my writer’s block and, therefore, it’s not what i would claim to be written to the best of my abilities. there’s a lot i wish i’d written differently but, for my own sanity, i need to just move on from this story and get on with the rest of my wips, otherwise the perfectionist in me would never post again and this blog would truly die. with that all in mind, i’d like to ask anyone who’s going to give feedback to please keep that in mind. obviously, it doesn’t excuse if this story is bad or unenjoyable but it can serve to explain maybe why it’s not as good as some of my other works. okay, at this point i’m just talking out my ass and making the fic seem shit when it’s really not that bad,,, okay, it’s good to be back with a long fic and lease enjoy it for all it’s unrealistic features!!
⎘ general taglist: @yunhobabygurl, @eonghwa, @iusrene, @nari-nim, @couchpotatoaniki @vanishingboots, @yoheyyosup, @hongjoong-locked-loaded, @rainteez02 unable to tag: @harry-the-pottypus
this is all fiction. none of the events in this story truly happened, nor do they reflect an accurate portrayal of how the members would behave or feel in these situations.
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