run back 2 u - bonus track

beomgyu U・x・U | 25

[simjakedly]

cherry? cherry. - p.js

main masterlist | part one | part two

synopsis. jay is everything an alpha should be: respectful, mature, impossibly considerate. unfortunately, the omega he falls for at first sight thinks he’s a performative fraud. determined to prove he’s genuinely a good alpha, jay sets out to win over a man-hater (you!) while trying not to lose his mind over your smile, your sharp tongue, and, regrettably—your very distracting chest. oh goddess of the moon, please show him mercy! he swears he’s not a pervert. a spin-off from love me (k)not and mark me yours!

pairing. alpha!jay x omega!female reader

genre(s). omegaverse, rom-com, (one-sided) enemies-to-lovers, love at first sight, light angst, fluff

warnings. jay pervert allegation, reader has above-average boobs, profanity, whole &team are assholes here sorry, ex-boyfriend maki, cheating, gaslighting, reader is a fashion student, enhypen ensemble, jay is a sweetheart, reader is just a complex character please try to understand her, nesting, vulnerability and insecurity, arranged date, not beta read we die like injang, please let me know if i missed anything <3

word count. 16,983 words

note. this is soooo long overdue i'm sorry :( but it's my first ever jay fic though so we cheer! have fun reading and lmk what you think <3

“Peach or cherry?”

Jay is losing his mind and all Jake cares about is whether he prefers ass or boobs.

The frat house is crowded as usual, with people getting drunk and high on whatever substances they prefer in their system. On any other night, Jay would find the scene irritable and annoying. 

After all, he always keeps himself in check, always sober and in control of his actions and thoughts, always so, so responsible. He’d prefer watching from the sidelines and being of help for when Riki starts throwing up from too much drinking or when Heeseung sings too loud after his second fill.

Jay is always responsible. He never lets himself on the loose.

But tonight, as the aftermath of his near-fight with Heeseung and him having to rush to the hospital after the burgundy-haired alpha collapsed in his omega’s doorway, despite Jay himself being too shaken to stand, he thinks he’s fine with getting slightly reckless.

Slightly reckless, in this case, is drinking more than the two red cups he usually gets.

“Why are we using fruits to represent anatomy?” 

Back to the situation at hand, where he’s sitting on top of a tall stool around the kitchen island, Sunoo is throwing Jake a grimace. Beside him, Riki already has his head bobbing to the music, a telltale sign of a blackout drunk that would usually result in Jay and Sunoo cleaning his mess up. A defeated sigh leaves his lips involuntarily.

Jay downs another shot.

"I don't want to be too explicit," Jake shrugs, like it's the most normal thing to do. "So, peach or cherry?"

Jay knows how this will go.

Riki is an ass guy, judging from the way he likes to slap anyone's butt within his proximity. Jake is both because he's an indecisive little shit who's just too greedy to pick. If pussy was on the options, he'd pick all three.

Sunoo, despite his reckless endeavor with alphas, Jay has never heard him doing anything more than a messy make-out and a blowjob. But he might be an ass guy too, just because he has a juicy fat ass. Heeseung—well, if he was here, anyway—would've said boobs, because Jay knows him a little too well which makes him privy to the former's (previously) sexually active life.

And Jay—he's too respectful to even answer that.

True to his own guess, Riki shakes his head drunkenly from beside an expressionless Sunoo. "My girl is perfect," he says, then grins cheekily. "But I like taking her from the back. Shit, you shouldn't know that."

"We shouldn't, dumbass. Why are you airing out your bedroom activities to us?" Sunoo rolls his eyes, but there's no bite to it. Everybody knows how loose Riki's tongue can get when he's wasted. On any other sober days, he would gate-keep the hell out of his omega. "Anyway, peach."

Jay has guessed almost everything right. He downs another shot.

A shit-eating grin appears on Jake's face. "I knew it, Sunny, you're an ass guy!"

"It's not really a groundbreaking discovery," Sunoo shrugs his shoulders, then turns to Jay. "Jay hyung, what about you?"

Jay is a respectful guy, so there's no way he would ever answer that. He shakes his head, already dizzy from the buzzing alcohol in his system.

"I don't like talking about this."

A chorus of groans echoes around the island. Only Sunoo smiles at him.

"You're no fun, Jjongsaeng," Jake shoves his shoulders playfully. "It's harmless conversation. As for me, I like anything they give me, but I love pussy the most. Which will make me a butterfly guy."

Sunoo lets out a loud groan, while Riki is already giggling. "Are you calling pussy a butterfly? Hyung, please shut the fuck up."

It's ridiculous, really. Jay loves his friends, but they sometimes do questionable things that makes him want to rip his own hair out. If Jungwon was here, he would be up his ass and plot ways to get on his nerves. If Sunghoon was here, well, Jay likes his company the most because he's the calmest and doesn't say controversial shits that could get them cancelled. His friends can be insufferable sometimes, but the most annoying one at this moment is none other than Heeseung.

Thinking about the burgundy-haired alpha just makes his wolf bitter all over again. Seriously, what did he do wrong? Heeseung should've been thanking him instead for keeping his omega dry from the rain. Not taking him down in an almost-fistful physical attack, and definitely not this silent treatment between them that makes their shared apartment smaller than it is, on-edge pheromones suffocating the air.

Jay is pissed. Pissed that they haven't made up yet and pissed at himself for being too kind.

Is he too kind? Should he just let her get soaked in the rain?

He grabs his red cup, ready to feel the alcohol again, and sighs quietly when there's only a drop left inside. Jay is about to stand and refill more booze, but he's stopped by a firm hand on his wrist.

He looks up to a worried Sunoo.

The younger alpha gives him a once-over. He probably looks so red in the face right now, but nobody seems to notice because Jake and Riki are somehow trying to bite each other's heads off arguing about the proper fruit representative for a pussy.

"You're drinking a lot tonight," Sunoo finally says, ever the observant. "Did something happen?"

Everything happened.

Is what Jay wants to say badly.

That near-fight with Heeseung happened. That still-awkward tension between him and Riki's mate happened. That weird glances mated alphas throw at him whenever he's around their omegas happened. That flirty and hopeful stares omegas give him whenever he so as looks their way happened.

And, despite everything, him still not meeting his mate happened.

If anyone should be envious, it's Jay. Not Heeseung. Not Riki.

"Envious of?"

Shit. He said that out loud, didn't he?

He was about to deflect, but now that Sunoo is fixing him with that foxy gaze, glinting with relentless curiosity that won't back down no matter the excuses, Jay knows he has nowhere to go. He looks to his left, where Jake and Riki has reconciled and agree that no fruit matches with a pussy's shape because apparently pussy is too special for fruit comparisons, settling on calling it flower instead, and now have started discussing about how diabolical it is to compare a dick to an eggplant, and sighs.

Jay thinks he needs new friends. Better friends, even. Except Sunoo. And Sunghoon.

"Hyung?"

When Jay's sure that Jake and Riki are too wasted and distracted to eavesdrop, he finally relents.

"I…Sunoo-yah," he swipes a tongue across his bottom lip. "Is there something wrong with me?"

This is why he hates getting drunk. Because his body recognises alcohol as invitation to start talking deep shits and pouring his heart out like an endless stream of river. It's not a bad thing to be vulnerable, but Jay has guarded his heart so tight that only certain people have the privilege to listen to his deepest secrets.

Thankfully, tonight is just his luck. Rather than exposing himself to a stranger, which has been his biggest fear when getting drunk, it's Sunoo who's listening to him attentively. The brown-haired alpha is looking at him softly, amber eyes full of understanding and encouragement, and it makes the tension in his shoulders slowly melt away.

"Why'd you say that?"

Jay is quiet for a moment. Right, why would he? Then he remembers Heeseung and Riki, those omegas and alphas, and, finally—his own wolf.

"Am I too…" he sucks in a breath, not wanting to sound self-absorbed, but it's what he's been hearing from people.

"Am I too much of a green flag?"

Sunoo didn't expect that from him, judging by the micro-surprise in his expression. Maybe he should stop there and let Sunoo reply, but now that he finally lets it out, Jay finds it easy to just continue.

"Is it wrong to be a kind alpha? I think it wasn't, but seeing how anxious and weary alphas can get when I'm being a gentleman to their omegas…" he trails off, hating the fact that it's his best friends' faces that appear on his mind. "I think it's a mistake. I shouldn't be too kind, right?"

There's a muffled silence between them, dampened by the loud bass from the living room and the sharp citrus turning bitter in the air. Jay looks off to the kitchen island, realising that it's now just him and Sunoo in that space; Jake and Riki are now joining the beer pong just getting started in the backyard.

Across from him, a look of understanding crosses Sunoo's face.

"There's no such thing as being too kind, hyung."

"Then why am I being punished for it?" He cuts in sharply. "Why do I feel bad for doing those things to them?"

He still remembers, the day Riki showed up in his apartment, crying because his lifelong crush wanted Jay to help her with her heat. Riki begged him not to agree, and Jay had done so—it didn't feel right to do that, especially when he knows about the younger boy's feelings for his childhood friend. But then Riki changed his mind and convinced him to say yes, because 'I didn't want her to go through it alone in indescribable pain, and I don't want to ruin our friendship if it's not me that she wanted. Please help me, hyung, she's just presented as an omega. It'll be too dangerous for her to do it alone.'

He had agreed out of sympathy for his younger friend, but somehow him agreeing had bloomed jealousy in the alpha's heart. Jay understands—Riki is still too young, and young alphas are the most territorial creatures to walk on this Earth—but it still hurts his feeling to be treated like a Mr. Steal Your Girl, when he has never stolen anything except omegas' hearts unintentionally.

Riki had apologised and admitted to his immaturity, but still, it wasn't enough to erase weeks of awkward silences and clipped conversations over a single apology. His omega has been extra cautious around Jay, and it always makes him sore to hold back from being himself around her. Or around any taken omegas, for the record.

So, really, he'd appreciate it a lot if Sunoo could just be honest with him and tell him, 'Yes, hyung, you're too kind for your own good,' instead of sugarcoating it.

But of course Sunoo would say the opposite.

"The ones who did that to you aren't the people you helped, right?" Sunoo says, smooth voice weaving through the music like it's meant to find Jay no matter the noise. "It's always the jealous alphas. But I'm sure those omegas were thankful for you for helping them. You're not being punished, hyung. You're just too good that you kinda intimidated these alphas into thinking that their mates would run to you the second they look away."

Jay doesn't know what to say to that. Sunoo always has this way of charming people with his words, the kind that can convince a criminal that they're a saint with that lilt in his voice that only he has. He's not sure if Sunoo really means it, or if it's the truth as it is.

The younger alpha sees right through him. "You're doubting me."

"No! No, I'm just—" Jay pauses, hating the fact that he is indeed doubting his friend's words, and decides to just be honest. "Okay—yeah. You're right. It's hard to believe you."

Sunoo hums, not the slightest offended. He leans forward, turning his head to watch the ongoing beer pong, seen through the transparent sliding door. Jay follows his line of sight, and feels his chest tighten when he sees Riki making out with his omega.

It's the familiar ache that he felt when he saw the mating mark on Riki's neck. The same longing he feels whenever his mated teammates talk about their fulfilled love life. It's like a circle of bubble that Jay doesn't dare burst, being the only one outside of a room full of people who have found the meaning of love.

I wish I could have that too.

Sunoo catches him before he could mask his scent. He throws Jay an expressionless look. For a moment, Jay prepares himself for a 'Gotcha!' comment from him, but the younger alpha only gives him a close-lipped smile.

"Ah, hyung. I should've known. You want a mate, don't you?"

"I don't," Jay is quick to deny, but upon seeing the knowing glint in Sunoo's eyes, he realises there's no point in denying. He sighs for the umpteenth time that night.

"Yes, I do. But it's not as easy as you might think."

"Why? I'm pretty sure there are many omegas who'd throw themselves at you."

"But I can't because I…" Jay licks his lips, "I don't find anyone I like enough yet."

Sunoo doesn't say anything for a long, stretched moment. Jay almost squirms under his dissecting eyes. It feels as though Sunoo is picking him apart by his gaze and his scent alone, seeing parts of himself that he wouldn't show bare. It's unnerving yet weirdly comforting at the same time, having someone who can see right through him despite the walls he built.

"Hyung, everything about this gentleman persona and you wanting a mate—there's only one thing I can say."

Jay swallows thickly, mind sobering up with each passing second. "What?"

"You are with this kindness not without a purpose," Sunoo says calmly, like he hasn't just dropped the most riddled sentence that sounds too Shakespeare-ish to Jay's drunken mind.

"Huh?"

"I'm saying, there is someone out there who needs your kindness, hyung. Your patience. Your heart," Sunoo flashes him a small smile, sincere and genuine. "You'll meet them someday. And when you do, you'll understand why you are the way you are. You are never too much for someone who's meant to hold you."

Jay hears him, truly, but that promise sounds so distant and far away. Like a reality he's witnessesing from a different universe, through a portal of lifelong waiting and yearning. He wants to believe it, wants to hold onto every syllable and let it be his new faith, but the deepest, ugly part of him doesn't believe he belongs to that kind of destiny.

He doesn't say anything. Not that he has the chance to when the smell of burning chocolate greets his senses and soon, an upset Jungwon is already filling up the space with his broad shoulders and moody pheromones.

A black leather jacket, zipped up to his chin, hugs his body, highlighting his wide figure under the kitchen light, paired with leather pants. Jungwon's hair is messy, untamed around the frame of his eyes, and Jay knows why when he sees the helmet in his arm.

"Hyung, be honest. Do I look too baby-faced?" The alpha pouts, gesturing at his body. "Even after wearing this whole gear? I even rode my precious bike to see her!"

Jay doesn't have to stay to know that Jungwon's whining about the older omega he has a crush on, someone that used to babysit him when he was 10 years old and is now still treating him like a baby. He would've stayed to listen and comfort the younger alpha, really, but unfortunately for Jungwon, Jay also needs some comfort for himself before he loses his fucking mind.

He grabs his red cup and stands up, needing the alcohol to be in his system now more than anything. The other two alphas don't notice him leaving, and if they do, Jay's sure Sunoo's more interested to hear about Jungwon's failing love life than his already-doomed one.

Jay makes his way through the crowd, giving polite smiles to everyone in his way. He's not really a fan of this kind of crowd—it's more of Heeseung's and Riki's crowd—but it's the least of his concerns now. The alpha squeezes past dancing omegas whose stares linger, past a group of alphas who give him a nod of acknowledgement, past a pair of lovers making out on the wall.

That makes him falter.

Jay blames it on the alcohol. Really, he's usually not like this. It's actually easier to act like not having a mate among friends who are already mated doesn't affect him when his thoughts are more coherent and making sense. But right now, as he watches the couple giggling at each other, lips in ears and soft eyes looking into soft eyes, a pinch of envy twists in his chest.

Jay huffs, leaving the scene faster than he'd like to admit. Seriously, if he was so good and kind like everybody had said, if he's the picture-perfect alpha like every family member had boasted about, then why is it only him alone with no one to hold? Why is it always him who's cleaning after everybody's mess when he only watches on the sidelines as they get their happy ending? Why is it that people who run from love are more favoured than someone who's always been ready like him?

What about him? What about his happy ending?

After what felt like hours, Jay finally finds his booze. Jake has an eccentric preference of placing the booth all over the frat house, and the one in the kitchen has long ran out. He's standing at the booth by the stairs right now, the majority of them still untouched. Jay pours into his cup full to the brim. His senses are already tingling with the thoughts of drinking more.

When the alcohol buzzes through his system, Jay lets out a satisfied sigh. God, he's so carefree tonight. But whatever, he's pretty sure Sunoo can drive them home safely. Right now, Jay's focus is only on making himself feel better and forget whatever ruckus that has unfolded the past few weeks.

He pours more when his cup empties. From where he's standing, the bass doesn't really reach him, a bit distant from the speaker now blasting Miley Cyrus' Party In The U.S.A.. It makes the conversation around him sounds clearer in his ears. Including the ones coming from upstairs.

Jay pays them no mind. He's not here for gossips or shits and giggles—he's here to cool off. But when something sweet, something that reminds him of his mom's berry strudels and morning coffee drifts into his nose, Jay's senses sharpen.

Is someone baking? He wonders alone. The last time he left the kitchen, there were only Sunoo and Jungwon. As far as he remembers, neither could touch the oven without risking an explosion.

So where does this sweet scent come from?

It gets sweeter the more he spends his focus on it. Jay looks around, mind still buzzing, unable to find the source of the scent that has piqued his interest through the haziness. His nose twitches. Even in his drunken state, Jay can't help but notice how constrasting the scent is to his sharp citrus.

And for some reason, his wolf likes it.

"Is it from the stairs?" he mumbles, stumbling to the foot of the stairs, drink sloshing in his cup.

But just as he's about to look up, he's already colliding into a soft body coming down from upstairs.

"Ah!"

Oh no.

Jay watches in horror as the drink in his hand spills all over the person's shirt, staining the white fabric with yellowish mark that almost looks like someone's piss. He freezes, mouth gaping in surprise, but the only thing his hazy mind picks up is 'Yes, he's finally found where the scent comes from.'

It's from the victim of his booze.

Or rather, the furious omega who's looking down at him with a sneer on her face right now.

"Hey!" You yell, face burning red. "Look at what you did!"

Oh, Jay is definitely looking. For some reason, his eyes are glued to your face, taking in every feature decorating your sweet face. The perfectly sculpted brows that are now frowning deep, the round eyes that are narrowing down at him, the full lips that are pulled into a tight, dissatisfied line.

Such an angry omega. But also the most beautiful he's ever laid his eyes on.

"Hey, stupid alpha. I'm talking to you!"

Jay has never seen you before. Who are you? Why are you making his heart beat so fast? Why is his wolf wiggling his tail at the sight of you?

"Oh my fucking God. So fucking annoying."

Even when you're glaring at him, under the dim light of Jake's frat house, you look very, very pretty. Are you even real, or just a drunken manifestation of his desperation for a mate?

Jay's too starstruck and drunk to notice how dumb he must look right now, but you've had enough of the alpha gaping at you like a dying fish. You shake his shoulders, manicured nails digging into his shirt.

"Earth to dumbass alpha! Hello??? You just spilled your drink all over my Limited Edition Cherry Chanel Baby Tee!"

Oh, right. Jay snaps out of his reverie, and drops his eyes on your chest to see the damage he's done.

But instead of realising his mistake, he's realising something else instead.

The wet patch darkens your shirt from its usual shade, sticking to your chest like second skin. From where he's standing so close, just a step below you on the stairs, his eyes level with your chest, Jay has a belated realisation that you have such perfect…boobs.

They're slightly bigger than average, perfectly-shaped and round, and they sit so nicely that Jay feels like they'd beat his expensive pillows in softness. A thought, a small thought that sober-Jay would never have, crosses his mind.

Jay wants to bury his face in your chest to test it.

Oh my God. This is bad. Drunk-Jay is so, so bad. He's really malfunctioning tonight.

You, on the other hand, are already at your wits' ends. It doesn't help that the shirt feels so sticky, so uncomfortable and it irritates you to the core. Also, why the fuck is this stupid alpha staring at your chest like—like he wants to touch it?

"Hey!" you push his shoulder again, but the alpha doesn't budge. You grit your teeth. "My eyes are up here, dumbass!"

Jay breathes out. "Che…rry."

Your brows furrow in confusion.

"What?"

"Cherry." Jay repeats, eyes never leaving your chest. His mind is dissolving into mixed up conversations—he can hear Jake's voice, your voice, and the bass mixing together.

"I prefer…cherry."

There is a heavy silence that follows, loaded with bubbling anger, drunk confusion, and a very, very horrific realisation that he's talking about your chest. Your mouth falls open.

With a handsome face and neat shirt like that, you can't believe that this alpha is such a fucking pervert!

"Yah! Are you crazy?! What cherry?!" You scream, attracting more attention on the two of you. Jay barely blinks. "Are you talking about—about my boobs?!"

Jay blinks blearily, then nods.

"Your…cherry."

You let out a scandalised gasp. Humiliation starts creeping up your face, painting your skin even redder than before.

This is ridiculous. This is diabolical! The audacity of this alpha—!

Before you know it, your hand already swipes across his cheek in a surprised, harsh slap. Jay's head jerks to the side, his own eyes growing wide at the impact. A ringing silence echoes between the two of you, followed by a chorus of gasps from the onlookers.

After literally getting slapped into his senses, Jay sobers up in that one single moment and realises with a dread, What the fuck did he just do?

He slowly looks back at you, touching his stinging cheek like you had personally offended his whole bloodline. You're glaring at him, chest heaving rapidly like you can't contain your anger any longer.

"You fucking pervert!"

Jay's breath hitches. He's a pervert?

"Get away from me!"

The alpha lets his body get shoved to the side like a door blocking the way. He stands there, motionless, as he watches you leave, angry steps making your hair bounce. Shame and guilt start crawling up his chest when his mind decides to replay the scene, realising in horror how out of character he had been and how rude he was to you.

Oh God. Oh my God.

Seriously, Park Jongseong? Cherry? That's the first thing you say to the literal love of your life?

"Isn't that Park Jongseong?"

"Oh my God, I thought he was a green flag?"

"I guess even a green flag still has a knot to satisfy."

"Park Jongseong is a pervert?"

Jay squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand down his face. He doesn't really care about his reputation, so the whispers barely bother him.

What he cares more is the lingering scent of acidic espresso and rotting cherries in the air, trailing after you even when you're long gone. His cheek still burns, but he couldn't care less because—you know…he kind of deserved it.

Fuck.

And Jay doesn't even know your name.

"All alphas are nothing but a knothead!"

You spit, seething in anger as you glare at anyone in your way. Not even the loud music can muffle your voice, sending death threats and insults to a certain alpha (and literally all other alphas.)

Maybe it's just your bad day, because just as you finally see your exit, an alpha—stupidly broad-shouldered alpha, fuck alphas and their ridiculous proportions—bumps into you. You click your tongue and look up at him.

"Why do you guys stupid alphas only think with your dick, your cock, and only your small fucking knot?!"

The alpha stares at you in horror. It seems like today is more of his unlucky day than yours.

"I-I don't—"

"What? You don't have a dick?" You cut him off, irritation pulling at your nerves. Tonight is such a shitty night. "Isn't that the only thing you alphas are proud of? Thinking with your knot and tricking omegas with your cock?!"

The poor alpha stands there cowering, hanging his head low as if he's already accepted his fate of being the receiving end of your hatred towards alphas and…dicks.

You push a trembling finger on his chest, eyes prickling with tears. Fuck these hormones and emotions, fuck this soft scent that makes people think you're nothing more than a weak, defenceless omega—you've had enough of everything.

"Am I wrong? Isn't that why Riki cheated on me?!" You yell, not caring if people catch your words. "Because his dick can't get enough with only one pussy?!"

A ripple of murmurs and whispers start spreading around you. Even the DJ has turned the volume down slightly, taken aback by the sudden drop of the bomb of truth.

A cheating scandal? That's the juiciest gossip college students could have ever had.

The nameless alpha looks at you, eyes wide in surprise mixed with disappointment when he hears your words.

"Oh my God—there's no way—Riki cheated?" He stammers. "Nishimura Riki cheated?"

"Who the fuck is Nishimura Riki?" Your brows furrow, first time hearing that family name. "It's Hirota Riki! My stupid, cheating ex who's immature and younger than me and just plain dumb like a textbook alpha!"

The relief physically vanishes from his face. Then, as if realising what you have said, his face mirrors your confusion. "Wait—you mean Maki? That German-Japanese guy?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. Of course people know him. You almost forgot that your ex, other than being a piece of garbage and a pain in your ass, is also a famous model for the college magazines. His face is everywhere, in every campaign and poster and advertisements, wearing clothes that always gains attention.

Clothes that you designed and sewn by hand.

The back of your eyes burn with tears, but you blink them back, not wanting people to see your sadness. You'd rather they have your anger and rage, because lashing out and being called crazy for screaming seem less vulnerable than the little drops of tears down your cheeks.

You push at the alpha weakly, every fibre of your being just begging to go home and forget everything about tonight.

"Are you okay, angry omega?"

"Shut up," you hiss, voice shaky. "I'm leaving this place."

The crowd parts for you as you make your way to the exit. You sway slightly, too drained from spending your energy screaming at everyone and no one at the same time.

You hate the prying eyes. You hate the pitying words. You hate the whispers. But there's nothing you can do when it's you who accidentally aired out your ex boyfriend's scandal in your fit of anger.

It's been two months since the breakup—a breakup that you thought was healthy and reasonable. Maki told you that he was going to get busy with growing his career, balancing his job as a freelance model with being an engineering student was starting to take up most of his time. Somewhere in between schedules, he no longer could find the time to love you, to fit you in his world of fame and glory.

You didn't want to hold him back. Even when you had liked him more than you ever did anyone, you still let him go. The relationship lasted only for nine months, and you never really expected anything serious or long lasting from dating someone in college.

But tonight, a friend let the truth slip.

Maki didn't break up with you because he wanted time for his career growth—or whatever bullshit he spouted at you. No.

He has been seeing another omega behind your back. Someone from the same major as you.

It's no surprise that you didn't find out any sooner. Being a fashion major warrants competitiveness and rivals—and you're not exactly well-loved by your fellow designers. You're the notorious omega known for your ridiculous standards, your pride and stubbornness, and your sharp tongue. It's your brilliant designs that get people to at least pretend to be your friends, hoping to steal a bit of your creative talent—but you always smell bullshit from miles away.

So, really, it upsets you that you failed to detect Maki's bullshit first. And people have been keeping it from you because they like to see your downfall.

And what better downfall is there than seeing your ex cheating on you with your fashion rival?

It's not like you liked him to the point of love—no. It's the betrayal that makes your mouth feel dry, heart heavy in ways it never had been before, like an anchor pulling down ships to sink.

Before you know it, you're already outside. The air is too chilly for your skin, amplified by the wet stain on your chest. You bite your lips, on the verge of tears when you're reminded of that perverted alpha.

Another alpha that only caused you humiliation. Really?

How can someone look at you like you're the most divine being one minute, then blatantly stare at your chest the next?

It's beyond you, really. Alphas are just evolutionary failures.

You fish out your phone from your wallet and look for an Uber. You're not too drunk to drive. If anything, you've never felt more sober in your life. It's just skills issue—you just cannot drive. Even when you have a whole damn Porsche in the garage of your family's mansion; a gift from your overly-doting parents who got too excited when you managed to get into fashion school—it still terrifies you to hold the steering wheel.

All of these privileges and wealth, yet no success in the dating department (and driving classes). Your whole life, you have dated a cheater, a closeted alpha who was too scared to tell you that he liked knots better than your pussy, and just a total manchild who sulked back whenever you pouted.

"Seriously," you mutter, confirming your location on the screen. "When will it be my turn to date an actual manly alpha?"

You pause. Now that you think of it, even so-called green-flag alphas give you the ick.

They're just a bunch of performative males. Just look at the college's beloved cheater. Maki was acting like a green forest itself when he was courting you!

None of these alphas can be trusted!

"I will just die single," you decide, closing the app once your driver is confirmed. Your parents have more than enough money to support you anyway.

You stand at the porch in silence, the sound of the bass can be heard faintly through the walls. The stickiness of your shirt is now long forgotten; you've given up thinking about it when the memory of your ex comes back. There are more pressing matters at hand that need your attention.

Like the upcoming fashion week, no doubt will get you into another spiral of self-doubt and stress. Like your parents who keep insisting you meet this one young, handsome bachelor that apparently would be just your type—but you're still hurt by Maki's action that you haven't found the right timing to say yes. Like your favourite cherry Chanel baby tee, now ruined and stained, and you wonder if you should send it for dry cleaning or pay a fortune to scalpers—

"Miss?"

A deep timbre greets your hearing. It's soft and a tad bit familiar, like you've heard it somewhere before.

You turn around and immediately frown when you see him.

It's that perverted alpha.

"What?" You reply, already annoyed. The alpha blinks at you, looking more sober than before. His collar is folded neatly now, and the red tips of his ears are hinting more on shyness than alcohol influence.

He gives you a nervous smile. "I came to apologise."

Tch. Another performative alpha. But this one likes to stare at your chest too much.

You roll your eyes and turn back to the front, wishing for your driver to arrive fast.

"Just save your breath and go. You don't even know what you're apologising for."

One thing you hate about men, especially alphas, is that they never mean their sorry's. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything'. Everything is too generic. They don't have any idea what they apologise for. The phrase has lost its value from how often it flows out of their mouths without meaning.

But this alpha is a bit more stubborn than you think. He shuffles closer, still keeping a safe distance, and stands next to you. Now closer, you can smell the citrusy scent wafting from him—sharp and refreshing, something that reminds you of summer. It has to be his pheromones.

Well, okay. He has sexy pheromones. You'll admit that. Too bad that the owner is already on your blacklist.

"I apologise for spilling my drinks on you and ruining your baby tee," he begins, turning his body facing you. But you refuse to look.

"It's the Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee," you correct him. From your peripheral vision, you can faintly see him grin.

"Yes, I'm sorry for ruining your Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee."

Okay. He's obedient. But it could be performative. Maybe he's just trying to get into your pants. You're not oblivious to how beautiful you look. You know that your family has good genes.

"And I apologise for staring at your chest inappropriately. I came off as a pervert even when I didn't mean to," he breathes out, voice lowering down in shame. "I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable."

Something tugs at your heart unexpectedly. It surprises you that this alpha actually knows what he's apologising for, unlike your previous exes who only said sorry to get your nagging self off their backs. You shift slightly, unwilling to let this new change get to your head.

"Well, apology heard," you retort, still strong on not letting the alpha get too close—or accepting his apology. "But I'm not sorry for slapping you. So don't expect an apology from me."

An amused chuckle slips past his lips. His lemon scent bursts in the air, sounding too elated for your liking.

What's so funny?

"I guess I deserved it," the alpha, whose name you just realise you never know, replies as he touches his cheek with a brush of his fingers. You take a glance, satisfaction blooming in your chest when you notice the red mark on the tender skin.

That's what alphas like him deserve. Omegas run the world anyway.

You don't bother to say anything, just letting the cold breeze of night wind engulf you. It seeps into your bones, making you shiver almost too aggressively. The driver is still five minutes away, taking suspiciously long time at the red light just in front of a Burger King drive-thru.

You feel eyes on you before you feel his movements. The alpha sheds his trench coat, brushing wrinkles off the fabric before he hands it to you. You almost sigh, both out of relief and annoyance because really, you could use some extra layers right now but seriously, does it have to be in the most cliche, K-drama-worthy situation ever?

"What is this," you flatly ask, unimpressed.

"You're cold."

"How did you know that I'm cold?"

You watch the tip of his ears blush, and then his eyes traitorously drop to your chest before quickly lift up to face you again.

"I just…noticed."

You roll your eyes before looking down. "I know it's soaked, and it's—"

The words die on your tongue.

Your nipples. They're erect from the cold, mounting the thin, drenched fabric of your shirt in deadly-obvious pebbles. You brain dissolves into incoherent blabbering as a heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck. It's seriously the worst day ever to choose not wearing a bra.

You don't know if it's shame, or anger, or both, but when you look up to the now-blushing alpha, there's rage boiling over like a kettle about to whistle.

"I fucking knew it!" You couldn't hold yourself back this time, snatching the coat and smacking the alpha with the fabric. The alpha's eyes widen as he cowers to dodge your attack.

"You're just a pervert!"

"I-I'm not! I'm sorry—ow! Ow!"

You don't relent and keep hitting him with his coat, tears of shame threatening to spill over.

"What are you sorry for, you performative wolf?!" Smack! Smack! "You just ogled at my chest again!"

"I didn't mean to—ow! I'm sorry!"

With one final hit, you throw the coat at his face with all your might. He clumsily catches it, eyes wide with shock. The anger is hot, too hot that the cold doesn't bother you anymore, in fact you think steam might rise from your head in any second. With a huff, you stomp down the porch, ignoring his cries of sorry's from behind.

"I-I'm sorry! It's a misunderstanding! I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable again!"

"Shut the fuck up! You better not show your face anymore!" You flip him off without looking back.

However, upon seeing the Uber driver, you take a U-turn and stomp back to the alpha. His eyes immediately light up, there's a thin layer of moisture in his eyes. Maybe the coat hit his eyes or he's just so performative he'd cry if he could, you don't really care.

"You came back," he breathes out. "I'm sorry—"

"I said shut up!" You yell, already too irritated and overstimulated. While you're at it—embarrassing yourself to the point of no return—you snatch his trench coat and sling it over your chest shamelessly.

The driver is also an alpha, and you're not risking flashing your tits to another pervert.

"I'm taking this. Bye!"

"Wait!"

"And I am NOT returning it!"

With a harsh slam of the door, the car finally drives into the horizon, leaving behind a confused and guilty and perverted alpha as he chases after your Uber. Your chest heaves deeply, adrenaline running hot as your face flushes. You pretend not to notice the bag of chips and burger in the driver's lap, or the way the perverted alpha stands smaller in the side mirror as he watches you leave.

You just hope you never see that alpha again.

You never see that alpha again. However, as if you had personally offended the Earth and the entire Solar system, the Goddess doubles it down and sends your cheating ex to your studio instead.

His presence is too invasive that you feel him before you see him. His pheromones, now making your hair stand instead of providing the comfort that it used to do, breaches your senses when you round the corner. You had just stepped out to get some lunch, already grumpy from resisting your persistent mom and her chosen alpha for you to mate, when you see Maki walk down the hallway like it was his runway.

Your stomach drops. Like it's survival instinct, you turn back around and speed-walk to your studio. It's like a drum war being hit inside your chest, and you hope you're fast enough because you really, really don't want to deal with him right now.

Just as you're about to close the door, a force of Maki's hands pushes it back open. You stumble backwards, eyes wide in surprise as Maki effortlessly slips inside. His body, tall and wrong and crowding, swallows the room like a black hole sucking in the light and leaving you empty and alone in the darkness.

There's a lazy smirk playing at his lips.

"If it's not my favourite ex."

His voice is dripping with honey, a sweet poison that always gets to you no matter how hard you pretend it doesn't. It's sticky and uncomfortable, it makes you squirm and feel like there's something you should be scrambling for. It gets under your skin and Maki always gets the reaction that he wants.

You snap, face pulling into a scowl.

"What do you want, Maki?"

Maki lets your voice fade, acting like he didn't hear you. With his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the young alpha straightens, easy eyes meeting your sharp ones. And when he speaks, the words roll off his tongue so smoothly, like seeing the person he used to love didn't affect him the slightest. Like you didn't have such an impact on him the way he does you.

"Did I cheat, Y/N?"

The question strikes you dumb for a moment, but you recover quickly. Of course. Words spread fast on campus, especially if the source is the frat house. You knew it'd reach Maki eventually, but you didn't expect it to be this fast. It's like every person inside that house was an extension of Maki; the golden boy, the people's favourite, the face painting every cover of magazine.

You try to hide the tremble in your fists.

"You did."

Maki hums noncommittally.

"Do you have proof?"

"Liz told me," your voice grits out, "You'd been fucking around with your new girlfriend since you were with me."

The alpha tilts his head, still wearing that laid-back expression that you wish you could slap off his face. "Did she?"

"Yes. Now get out of here, you fucking stink—"

"Why would she help you, Y/N?" Maki calmly cuts you off, a bored tone in his voice. Like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, like he'd rather deal with a child than you. His smug face makes your skin prickle. You hate how easily he can hit your nerves.

Maki takes a step closer, taunting as ever.

"Had you started thinking that you have friends now?"

It's a soft blow that lands hard in your chest. Maki used to know you, therefore he knows all the ugly parts of you. And seeing him turning every knowledge he has of you into a weapon against you feels like being forced looking into a mirror that you've spent your whole life avoiding.

Your fists shake, nails digging into soft skin, almost drawing blood.

"Even if she lied to me, you got together with your new girlfriend so quick after the breakup," you spit between gritted teeth, holding back more than words. "That told me enough."

Maki is silent for a few heartbeats, his face unreadable.

"So what?"

There's a drop in your heart. Confused, disbelieving. "What?"

"What's wrong with moving on from you so fast? You didn't think you were so special for me to weep around, did you?"

There's a vaccuumed silence that swallows you whole. His words, casually laid out like he was discussing the weather, like the matters of your heart was something he wasn't concerned about, seep into your skin and every fibre of your being. The thoughts turn and curl, igniting a numbing buzz that replays his voice like a broken record.

Special. What's so special about you?

And when even you cannot find an answer, you feel the first crack in your chest.

Maki revels in your silence; in the first sign of submission. His smugness is loud in the studio, his pheromones flaring with dominance. He advances, taking deliberate steps, circling you like a predator assessing its prey.

"You've always been like this. So fiery, so passionate. All this energy yet no particular direction to go to," he drawls out, the words tumbling out lazily. He stops right in front of you, only a few centimeters away, and makes a show of looking around your studio.

He takes in the rumpled fabric, the crumpled sketchbooks, the spilled coffee. It appears as what he just observed: too much energy with no proper control. Loud. Messy. Reckless.

You.

"You can't even keep your studio tidy, Y/N," he breathes out a sigh.

"What's so unforgettable about you?"

When you had first started fashion school, you'd been told by every living person that money couldn't buy talent. No matter how big your mother's name is in the beauty and healthcare industry, no matter how prominent your father is in the automobile sector—you're nothing more than a mundane, passing student if you don't possess talent. And here, people always feel the need to remind you of that fact, especially after learning about the affluent background you come from.

So you learned. It's not like you got here through nepotism, anyway—you got in through your own grit. Your parents had always wanted you to get into med school, and the only thing you're good with when it comes to medicines is drawing the anatomy by hand. That sketch turned into figures and furls and soon, your dream to study fashion finally bloomed.

You have the talent and you have the grit. People always pass you nice compliments and constructive feedbacks you often dwell on—but the sleepless nights didn't really matter when you could finally see your collection walking down the runway front-row. You wear your confidence loudly that sometimes it's easy to forget that some people hate shiny things.

Your designs are so forgettable.

Said the new lecturer one day, tearing your sketchbook apart in front of the whole class came the third semester.

It was humiliating; the kind that burned your skin and the back of your eyes. Your nails cracked under pressure, trying so hard not to shed tears in front of so many pairs of eyes. But no matter how hard you try to reassure yourself, the comment lingers. It becomes an invisible knife that twists each time someone so much as look at your designs the wrong way.

And the first mistake you did was open up about it to someone.

The second mistake was that someone was Maki, of all people.

Because now, that alpha—all pride and arrogance—is throwing back the exact same insult at you right in your reddening face.

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

"Nothing," Maki finishes, eyes never leaving your face, as if savouring every twitch of hurt in your features.

There's nothing unforgettable about you. Not your designs; someone else probably invented something far more interesting than you. Not your face; you're just another pretty omega in a sea of more pretty omegas. Not your scent; you smell like pastries that people can easily get from any bakery. And certainly not you as a whole.

That's what he meant by it, right?

You're just a plus-one. An afterthought. The reason why skip buttons exist.

A heavy lump forms in your throat.

Maki takes your silence as a win and steps back.

"Now be a good girl and retract your statement. I never cheated on you," he says with conviction that you start questioning your own truth. "It's just your omega hormones messing around with you."

The door closes with a thud, leaving behind a ringing silence, the echo of his insults bouncing off the walls. There's a thin veil of moisture in your eyes, but you refuse to cry.

You refuse to cry for the rest of your time in your studio, trying to fix some of the mess, hating yourself even more when you realise that you care about his comments more than you should.

You refuse to cry on your way home, sitting in silence at the backseat of your Uber, replaying Maki's words in an endless loop that you wish could stop.

You refuse to cry when you have nothing to eat for dinner, stomach growling in hunger for some warm, homecooked meals, yet you have to settle for takeout again.

You refuse to cry when you sit in the middle of your living room, a luxury apartment far too big for one person to live in, trying to eat the soggy noodles and too-drenched fried chicken.

But like any normal human being, you have a heart too—a soft one at that. You can only hold on for so long.

It's hard to ignore the vast, empty space of your apartment; of the two vacant rooms down the hallways; of the single mug, single cutlery set, single-everything because for some reason you half-know and half-not, you just don't have…friends. At least not those who can reach the depths of your being—just fleeting, surface-level friends. Or companion.

Or whatever it was that Maki said that finally got to your head.

The dam finally breaks when you enter your room.

For the first time in your life, your nest that you always keep tidy on the love couch you have by the window, your safe haven where you lie in to find comfort, becomes the spot that you want to avoid the most.

There, arranged into a circle, are all the things that smell like solace and consolation after a rough day—or at least used to. Maki used to be like that—used to be your person, used to be your comfort place. So it's almost pathetic that you are still clinging onto his hoodie, his sweatshirt, the mittens he gave you last winter, the plush bunny that he won at an arcade, for comfort long after the breakup happened.

God, you didn't even want that bunny. You wanted the black cat.

You pick up his hoodie. It's the one he asked you to wear during a movie night, the one he received as a gift from GAP after a modelling gig with them. With shaky hands, you press your nose into the fabric, trying to catch the person who used to care for you—the person he was before he is now.

His scent lingers, faint and fading, but it's still there. Pine and frost, cold and sharp as his features. But instead of the warm feeling that you used to get, his scent makes your stomach twist and churn, a bile rising behind your throat.

The first drop of tears slides down your cheek.

He's no longer your safe space. Hadn't been since that breakup. Hadn't been since the night he kissed another woman behind your back.

Without thinking, you throw the hoodie on the floor. The fabric lands with a soundless thud, but the indication is loud regardless. When you look back at the love couch, the sight almost breaks you into pieces.

Your nest is all destroyed.

With a cry of fury, you lunge, hands tearing his sweatshirt apart next. At your force, the plush bunny tilts sideway, further breaking the perfect circle that used to be your nest.

"It's just a nest," your voice trembles, but the words ring hollow. Inside, your wolf twists and turns, aggressively shaking her head.

A nest is never just a nest.

"I don't care!" you shout, stomping on the plush bunny. "It's not like—it's not like anything would ever comfort me anymore."

Your knees buckle, too worn after carrying the weight of your inner battles for so long. You slump on the floor, sobs wrecking your chest, the sound raw and scratched. As if on instinct, you bring your knees close to your chest, staring at the mess with a solemn, teary gaze.

You don't even know what you're crying for. It's not like you still have feelings for Maki; or at least, there's no positive feelings for him except for lingering resentment and a strong sense of betrayal.

Is it because what the destroyed nest symbolises?

That you're nothing but a lonely, easily-discarded omega?

That nothing will ever be safe enough for you to rely on anymore?

You might act strong on the outside and bite every bullet with squared shoulders, but if only they knew what you truly feel inside.

If only they knew.

A loud, shrill ringing from your phone cuts you off your silent misery. You drag your body to where your mattress is located at the center of your bedroom, your mom's contact name blinking to be picked up.

With a wipe on your cheeks and a sniffle, you answer the phone.

"My lovely daughter! How are you? Are you eating well, sweetheart?"

I just destroyed my nest. "I'm good, Mom. Just had dinner."

"Come visit this weekend! I'll send our chauffeur to you. I'm planning to—"

"Mom."

You look around your room. At the space that feels too big to fill in, the discarded fabric on the floor. Then, at your disheveled reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, daughter?"

You bite your lower lip, trembling. You look like a mess. Just like what Maki had said.

"I wanna go home."

There's a split second of silence before your mom's voice echoes again.

"You mean you wanna move back here, sweetheart?"

"Mhm," you almost sniffle but you catch yourself, not wanting to give yourself away. "I wanna live with you again."

"Oh, my! That means you agree that alpha, don't you?"

Sigh. You almost forgot about that. The silly condition your pouty mom makes if you ever want to live with them again. One that you've been trying to avoid, too busy with the fashion week preparation and planning revenge on your heartbreak.

But is there really anything to lose?

If you agree, you'll be in close proximity with what you'd say your comfort: your family, and the mansion you used to grow up in. A blind date is just free dinner and having an alpha shower your with praises and compliments. You might have to put up with a little bit of boasting here and there, but it's nothing you can't handle.

So long as you can escape this loneliness, even if only for temporary…

"Yeah," you breathe out. "I'll meet him."

Just let me go home to you, Mom.

Park Jongseong's cheek is still stinging.

But instead of acting like any other man who just got slapped would, he's wearing a giddy smile on his face. He's lying down on the couch, his apartment being the hangout spot of the day for the weekend, but thoughts about his friends are scattered away. Jay is absolutely gone and lost in cloud nine, a cherry-shaped cloud wearing the face of a certain beautiful omega that has been running on his mind as of late.

"Geez, this guy has turned crazy," Sunoo shakes his head before he nudges the older alpha. "Jay-hyung, I brought some ice packs for your cheek."

Jay absentmindedly reaches out his hand, barely registering his friend's words. "Sunoo-ya, Britney Spears was right."

Confusion knits Sunoo's brows closer. "Britney-noona?"

Jay hums. "I want her to hit me one more time."

Sunoo gives him a deadpanned look and then shoves the ice pack in his face. Jay yelps from the sudden cold contact.

"Ow!"

"Well, if you can't find her, I'm more than willing and capable to hit you one more time in her stead."

The older alpha huffs, pressing the cold compress into his swollen cheek. "You don't understand, Sunoo," he defends, "Her hands were so soft and she's so….beautiful."

"She slapped you."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah, cause you were ogling at her chest."

"I—" Jay gulps. Well, now it doesn't sound so good. "I mean…yeah, I did. I stared too long, in fact. That's why I said I deserved it."

Even while saying so, there's still this stupid smile decorating his handsome face. Sunoo can only shake his head, hands on his hips like a tired mom handling her teenage son's first underage drinking. It sounds that bad because it was that bad.

"I can't believe this is the end of Jay-hyung's gentleman era," Riki snorts from the floor. He's been hogging Jay's latest edition of PlayStation all to himself, secretly eavesdropping the two alpha's conversation.

Jay doesn't take it nicely. "What do you mean? I am still me."

"Mhm. Gentleman by day, boob enthusiast by night. Totally not a pervert."

Jay is open to criticism, especially anything to improve himself. But there's nothing to improve here. Jay is just…in love. Okay, that's a bit too soon. Jay is infatuated would be the best way to describe his situation right now because there's no doubt that he, as in human-Jay, and his wolf, like you.

Yes, in a romantic way. Yes, in a 'he wants to court you' way. Yes, in a 'I need her name and a priest now because he does hope he can marry you' way.

He's everything but he's not a pervert. No. And Jay has a hard time receiving criticism about his personality if it comes from a certain alpha named Nishimura Riki, and another alpha named Lee Heeseung. Call it pettiness or a vendetta, but those two have no right to say shit about him. Right now or ever.

Beside him, Sunoo starts to sigh. "Riki."

"What? At least we know why omegas like you now."

Jay's expression hardens. There's a twitch in his jaw that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunoo.

"What do you mean by that?"

Riki, still not sensing the sudden drop of temperature in the room, casually shrugs. "I'm saying maybe you've always been looking. Heeseung-hyung and I knew better."

A heavy silence blankets the room, suffocating each corner with unspoken rage. Sunoo almost recoils from the sudden bitterness that comes from Jay's pheromones. He casts a worried glance at the wounded alpha.

"Yeah." Jay lets out a quiet laugh. "Because both of you thought I'd steal your omegas."

Riki goes rigid. He puts down the console, finally registering the damage that came out of his mouth. He whips his head around, only to be met with a sharp glare from Jay.

"Jay-hyung…"

"No, let's talk about it." Jay gently pushes away Sunoo's hands that come up to comfort him, putting down the ice pack with calm fury that radiates more heat than if he had shouted. He fixes Riki with a burning glare that could've melted the ice pack.

"Let's talk about how I am always the collateral damage of your love story."

Riki gulps. Truthfully, he has never seen Jay angry. And even when he did, that anger was never directed to him. But this time, being the receiving end of such disappointed eyes, Riki wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"Jay-hyung, you know I don't mean it like that."

"Which part? The pervert part? Because you and Heeseung surely treat me like one whenever your omegas are around," Jay says, still soft, but the venom is there. "As if I was some horny wolf waiting for the time to pounce on them. Let me ask you, Riki. What was so wrong with wanting to help you when you literally asked me for help?"

"I—I know. You're never wrong—" Riki swallows, too paralysed from how fast the situation took its bad turn. "I just…shit. I'm sorry, hyung. You're such a good alpha—"

"Am I, really? Because with you two, I never feel like one."

Riki tries to say something back, mouth gaping like fish out of water. Jay heaves out a long sigh, ruffling his already-messy hair. As if on cue, the door to his apartment opens and comes in Heeseung, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm upon sensing the tension in the living room.

"What are we fighting about?"

"About your terrible jealousy issues," Jay grits through his teeth, looking up to meet eyes with Heeseung. The latter almost flinches from how sharp his gaze is. Jay takes another deep breath.

"God, you know what? I understand jealousy. I truly do. I wouldn't want any alpha near my omega too. But that would be any alpha but you two. Because I trust you. I trust you so much and it actually," Jay halts for a moment, realising how intense his emotions have been running. But the reassuring pat from Sunoo serves as his motivation.

He needs to say this. He needs to. Otherwise he'd drown in undeserving guilt and shrink himself again.

"It actually hurts when you guys don't feel the same about me."

The tension thickens it could be cut with a knife. Riki's expression crumples, the alpha who's usually prideful and cocky is now in shambles upon seeing his older alpha breaking down like this. Heeseung fails to find any words, the guilt is lodged in his throat that barely any voice would come out, blocking any syllables from being spoken.

"I just wanted to help. My kindness has no underlying meanings. I didn't offer to help because I wanted to have your omega in bed, Riki. I was thinking about you. I was thinking how I could stop you from crying because you were my friend first and it—it hurt to see you cry so much like that."

Jay is still soft. His voice is still gentle, and that's what makes this whole situation uglier. That's what makes the guilt press harder. Both alphas in question could only stare at their feet, reflecting on their actions towards Jay.

"And you, Heeseung. Would you rather have your mate get soaked that night?" Jay doesn't let him answer. "I don't think you would. I couldn't just leave knowing she'd get drenched in the rain, knowing how much my friend cherishes her and would freak out if she got sick."

Heeseung purses his lips. He was so busy mending what was broken with his omega that he didn't realise how much he's been hurting his friend.

The apartment is silent, save for the PlayStation menu playing its music on loop. Riki can't bring himself to look at Jay, perfectly fine with tucking his chin low and hiidng his shame. Heeseung still has a hand on the doorknob, the metal feels cold on his slippery palm.

"Jay-ah…"

"I'll be in my room. I want to be alone for a moment."

The anger has long left his body. All he feels now is exhaustion and relief, like finally putting back a heavy backpack he's been carrying for months.

The three watch as Jay disappears behind the door of his master bedroom. It closes with a gentle click, as if even in anger and disappointment, Jay wouldn't ever be harsh to his friends. Heeseung and Riki immediately let out a breath they didn't know they were holding while Sunoo watches them with amusement.

"It took him a lot of courage to say that, you know." Sunoo takes a seat on the couch, grabbing the console that was left untouched by Riki. "You guys better apologise and make up to him properly."

"I am such an asshole," Riki whines and drapes his body across the couch, letting his head fall into Sunoo's lap despite his protest. "Hyung was right. It's all about trust. And I was acting like an insecure dog."

Sunoo snorts. "You're a big puppy, Riki."

Heeseung is still quiet. The memory of the punch that almost landed on Jay's face still haunts him, even before the confrontation. He knew it needed to be talked about eventually, he just didn't expect it to be in a situation like this. But alas, Jay has been a sponge that absorbs everybody's emotions, the reliable one—it's about time that the patient alpha loses it.

Just as he's about to enter the apartment fully, the door is suddenly pushed open from behind and Heeseung gets shoved inside instead. Immediately, the smell of burnt chocolate fills the air and the insults he prepares for the intruder die on his tongue.

"Sunoo-hyung!" Jungwon barges in, a pout protruding on his lips. "Noona called me his little brother again!"

Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please protect this friendship.

Heeseung walks silently to his room, ignoring the trio alpha now fighting for Sunoo's attention. Jungwon, however, upon seeing Riki, immediately scowls at the younger. His pout disappears and his complaints die in his throat.

"YOU! Nishimura Riki. You're not cheating, aren't you?"

Riki blinks confusedly.

"Cheating? In FIFA or PUBG?"

"On your girlfriend!"

"Fuck, no!" The blond-haired alpha sits up, taking full offence from the sudden accusation. "I would jump off the cliff first before I'd ever dare cheat on my lovely mate. What the fuck are you on? You know I'm loyal as fuck."

Sunoo pinches his arm. "That's too many curse words, Riki."

Jungwon shakes his head. He pushes the younger off the couch and claims his previous spot, laying his head comfortably on Sunoo's lap. The scandalised look on Riki's face hasn't faded, the alpha is still glaring at Jungwon like he has offended Riki's ancestors.

"Nothing. There was just this omega yelling about getting cheated on during last Friday's party."

"And? What does that have to do with me?"

"The cheater's name is also Riki! You don't know how disappointed and heartbroken I was for those three seconds when I thought it was Nishimura Riki. It turned out to be Hirota Riki," Jungwon nudges Sunoo's hand, urging the older to pat his head. He's still heartbroken, please comfort him, thank you. "I was so close to committing a murder on you that night."

With that explanation, a look of understanding passes Riki's face. He slumps and sprawls on the floor, relief bleeding out of his muscle.

"Oh. That's Maki. Riki C. He's the disgraceful Riki. I don't fuck with him. Not anymore."

"You better not!" Jungwon hisses at him like an angry kitten.

"Wait, so you're Riki B?" Sunoo tilts his head. One of his hands is playing with Jungwon's hair. "Then who is Riki A?"

"The other Riki is Taki, and no, I am Riki D, because this dick—"

"Nishimura Riki!" Sunoo and Jungwon simultaneously yell, drawing out a cheeky laugh from the youngest.

From inside his room, Heeseung could hear the commotion. He shakes his head. Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please save Nishimura Riki.

Living with your parents has been as peaceful as it can get. Nothing much can be said, considering that it has only been a week.

For the time being, you manage to get your mom off your back about meeting this handsome alpha that she'd like to have as a son-in-law. You hide behind the excuse of being busy with the fashion week, which is not totally a lie.

Fashion week is one of the biggest assessments there is. It means two months of outsourcing high-quality fabrics, sketching and crumpling papers and sketching, hours spent in the studio, finding suitable models for your runway and, the most important part: piecing your imagination and hardwork into a clothing worth wearing and parading.

Which is why you're spending your time in the studio on a Saturday, leisurely going over your sketches again as you wait for your fabrics to arrive. It had been preordered a month ago and the delivery was scheduled today. Precisely, two hours ago.

But you try not to worry. It's only 12 p.m., and there's probably traffic on the road since the working civilians are supposed to be having lunch now. But one hour turns into two. Then another one passes.

Before you know it, it's almost five in the evening, yet there's no sight of a truck or even a ring from the company itself. By the time you dial their office number, you have already done a cherry set on your nails, tidied up the space to accommodate your resources, and even sketched a whole damn new collection.

"Hello, this is The Nakakita. How may I help you?"

The Nakakita. A Japanaese establishment that is owned by the Nakakita family. You wouldn't have gotten in touch with such a prestigious supplier of the Japanese fabric materials had it not been for your cheating ex's connection in the fashion industry.

Maki is all things, and resourceful is one of them.

"Good evening. I'm Y/N. There's supposed to be a delivery for order #1284 today to my studio. Japanese denim, linen cotton, blended silk?"

Well, you might have sounded too demanding. But that's the least of your concern now.

"Oh, Miss Y/N. I'm terribly sorry, but this order was cancelled."

If your jaw could drop down to the ground right now, it would cause a huge-scale earthquake across the city.

"What? I never cancelled it, though?"

There is a sound of clicking on the keyboard from the end of the line. "Um…it was cancelled by the account holder two weeks ago. By Mr. Hirota Riki, approved by the heir himself, Mr. Nakakita Yuma."

What the actual fuck. Two weeks ago was when Maki had confronted you about the rumour spreading about his infidelity. Despite feeling a bit intimidated (not that you'd ever admit), you did no such thing and let his reputation continue to get tarnished. You still firmly believe that he did cheat and whatever manipulation he pulled on you was just an attempt at making you feel miserable.

Not only is his ego as big as he is and a gaslighter, but he is petty, too?!

You let out a disbelieving scoff. Oh my Goddess…That alpha is really something else. As if shattering your dream of having a mate wasn't enough, now he wants to interfere with your career path as well?

What a fucking weirdo.

"So, what happened to all those fabrics? I already paid for the deposit."

"Based on this record, it has been delivered to Miss Kim Areum three days ago and your money is in the process of being refunded back to your bank account."

And as if all of those things weren't enough to pull you under, Maki just has to deliver the final blow to the most sensitive part of your heart.

Of course he'd give those resources to his new girlfriend. Of fucking course.

It's like a cellotape on skin. Peeling it off would sting, taking away your body hair that gives you heat, and leaving sticky residue that wouldn't come off easily. Your relationship with Maki—during and after the breakup—has always left you with this hollow, sinking feeling that weighs heavy on your shoulders.

No matter what you did, if the relationship has ended or not, it'll always leave burn marks that you have been trying so hard to heal. And whether the world has moved on or not, it's always you bearing the ugly aftermath.

"…Miss?"

"I see," you finally speak, voice hoarse from suppressed anger. "Let Yuma know that my attorney will be in contact with your team soon."

"Wait—"

Not letting them finish, you end the call and toss your phone on the couch. Your perfectly blowed hair is now disheveled, untamed by your fingers as you pace the room. There's unshed tears hanging low on your waterline, waiting for the time to fall down, yet you still refuse to give in.

"Fuck!"

It's so unfair. It's so fucking unfair. It wasn't you who left, nor was it you who cheated and being disloyal—yet you are the one who have to pay the price for his crumpling ego? And now he's putting your hard-earned place in the fashion school on the line?

What a fucking manchild.

"What am I supposed to do? Goddess, help me—what am I supposed to do?"

You sink into the couch, the tears now slide down your cheeks with no restraints. There's a choked sob coming out of your throat, your scent souring with every hiccup slipping past your lips.

Time is not a luxury that you can afford now. Confronting Maki would only mess with your head more and result in nothing. You'd love to find a way to sue The Nakakita, but that's a matter that you'd like to solve after the fashion week ends.

Fuck. You barely have two months on your hands, yet you have just lost your resources that you have ordered a month ago. Finding a new supplier would be tough—since not many of them would take indiviual customers due to economies of scale. You are no wholesaler or retailer; catering to you would be expensive for them.

But you have to find a way somehow.

With a shaky hand, you tuck your hair behind your ears and grab your laptop. The tears are uncontrollable at this point, but it's not a sign to give up or stop. Your dainty fingers start typing fast on the keyboard, trying to search for any textile businesses that would make some space for you.

This is not how you imagine your evening would end. You had pictured measuring and cutting fabric pieces to fit your six-piece collection, getting prepared to start assembling them and fitting your models.

Yet here you are, giving calls after calls, accepting rejection after rejection from every business you try to contact. It's exhausting, the tears are now just cracked vulnerbaility on your cheeks. Somewhere along the way, you have accidentally snapped your manicured nails while typing.

"I'm sorry, you have to place an order three months prior in order to secure the fabrics."

This is the sixth one.

You barely hold back a sigh. "I see. Thank you for your time."

You slam your phone on the couch and start rubbing your face. This is hell. You're sure a truck had hit you somewhere on the road and this is your hell, punishing you for being such a bitchy omega to everyone around you.

But how could you not be one when everybody always gives you a reason to protect yourself?

Taking in a shuddering breath, you open your bleary eyes and stare at another line of name on the screen.

Sinar Textile.

It's operating until 8 p.m., which is unusual for many companies. Talking about the time, your stomach growls on instinct, as if reminding you of the skipped lunch and forgotten dinner that you are yet to acknowledge.

"This is the last one," you whisper to yourself. "If this too fails, I will fucking kill Maki."

You punch the number on your phone screen, exhaustion clinging to every movement. It's inhumane to sabotage someone like this; you wonder if you can sue Maki too somehow. He deserves it more than anyone in this world.

It takes five rings before the call gets picked up. A cheery voice greets you.

"Good evening! I am Jake from Sinar Textile. How can I help you?"

You rub your temple, appreciating the friendly tone while it lasts before you start threatening this poor Jake to agree to your proposal.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. I'm looking for a few bolts of fabric for my upcoming collection."

A rustle is heard from Jake's side. "Hello, Miss Y/N. When do you need the fabrics?"

You tap your fingers on your thigh. "Two weeks from now."

There's a few seconds of silence before Jake speaks again. "Are you a wholesaler or a retailer?"

I fucking knew it. "Um," you gnaw at your bottom lip, nerves grating your edges. "Neither. I'm in fashion school, and I need them for my fashion week."

Please. Please accept me. Please take my request. Oh Goddess, this is the least you can do for justice.

But unfortunately, Jake is not your Goddess. "I am sorry, Miss Y/N, but our business strictly provides for wholesaling and retailing establishments only. As for indivi—"

"Please," you let out before you could stop yourself. "I'll take scraps or leftovers. Or even any cancelled order. I'll take anything but please don't turn me down."

You are never one to beg. Especially not to alphas. And while you're not sure about Jake's secondary gender, he's still a man and it still feels humiliating to beg.

But you don't have many choices now, do you? You care more about your degree than your dignity as of now.

The hesitance in Jake's silence is loud. "Miss Y/N, I am a mere part-timer here. I'm afraid I don't have the power to decide."

"Then let me talk to the person in charge, please."

You feel bad for Jake for putting him in a tough spot like this. But to be fair, he's receiving your kindest energy now—since you've lashed out on many other receptionists prior to this call, when you were still brimming with anger.

"Please wait a moment."

You inhale sharply. Is this really happening?

It doesn't take long before a feminine voice takes over the call. "Hello. You're speaking to the CEO of Sinar Textile. I am Mrs. Park."

You straighten up. "H-Hello, Mrs. Park. I apologise for the late disturbance."

The woman hums. "It is not a big deal. My receptionist has told me about your situation. Unfortunately, we do not supply for individuals like you."

The hope blooming in your chest deflates instantly. You close your eyes as you gather your composure.

"I—Please, ma'am. I don't know how to tell you that I desperately need them for my fashion week." For a strange reason, you feel yhe need to give her context. You're no careless student who forgot to book her supplier until last minute—you just got sabotaged. "My supplier terminated our agreement after my…ex-boyfriend intervened."

The woman seems to consider this, as her next words give you a sliver of hopium. "Please email me your sketches. Then I will consider. What's your name again, Miss?"

"Y/N. I am Y/N."

"Y/N?" She repeats, and if you tried to listen hard enough, you'd be able to detect the hint of recognition in her tone. "Great, Miss Y/N. Email me at [email protected], then I will let you know my decision."

Relief floods your senses like a tidal wave. With trembling lips, you try to piece your words together.

"Thank you, Mrs. Park. I—I'll take anything. Leftovers—or any defects. I can do it. Please consider my request."

"No worries, Miss Y/N. I'll get back to you the soonest tomorrow."

And with that, the call ends. You slump in your seat.

You could've gotten the details of their wholesale customers and buy from them, but from experience, you knew that getting the materials directly from the sources is hundreds time better in terms of quality and the price. And you have reports to submit much later on, where your budgeting would be questioned like you just laundered the national income.

Later that night, you arrive home with this aching need to be comforted. Instead of a pile of all the soothing scents you've encountered in your life, you open the door to your empty bed, void of any nest. Your mom's bedroom is just one door away, but it's too late to ask for cuddles, isn't it?

You open your wardrobe, staring at the empty spot where your nesting blankets used to be.

"It's just a nest," you convince yourself. "I'll feel better after waking up."

Completely ignoring the twisting pain in your gut, you settle yourself under the cover after washing up.

Sundays are fun days, and this time, your kind of fun is rushing your chauffeur to take you to your studio and threatening him into disregarding every traffic rule he's ever learned about.

"Miss, the light is red."

"I don't care."

"We will get fined."

"I will pay," you urge.

The chauffeur closes his eyes. "Please don't tell your mother."

And that's how a fifteen-minute drive could be cut into ten minutes of ride only. Your thanks barely leaves your lips as you rushes out, trying your best to look put-together while also lightly sprinting to the private studio that you've rented since your first year, located inside the university compound.

This morning, you woke up to an email from Sinar Textile. Mrs. Park, bless her heart—seems so taken with your sketches and has decided to give you some leftovers of their previous arriving batch from Japan. It's like the Goddess has finally taken pity on you overnight, and proving that the evil shall perish altogether (Fuck you, Maki).

You spend the entire ride mentally redesigning half your collection. Leftovers are more than enough. You'll make them work. You always do.

By the time you reach the studio, your mood has improved significantly.

There are bolts of fabric, stacked near the door to your studio. Two men wearing short-sleeved Polo stand around the stack, chatting with each other while waiting for your arrival. You waste not even a second and approach them faster.

"Good morning!" You greet them enthusiastically, so unusually you, but you're too giddy to care. "Are you from Sinar Textile?"

The shorter of the two greets you back, a puppylike smile stretching wide on his face. "Hello! You must be Miss Y/N. I'm Jake, and this is Sunghoon. We are the part-timers from Sinar Textile."

The latter bows to you. Up close, you finally notice the wolf ears nestling among his pitch-black hair. Oh, so he's a wolf hybrid. No wonder his pheromones are still strong to your nose despite the thick scent patch glued to his neck.

Well, first of all—Sinar Textile sure hires only super good-looking guys to work with them. If you weren't so into your post-breakup feelings, you might think about asking for their numbers after this.

"Nice to meet you two. Now, shall we?"

"We're waiting for Jay."

Your brow jumps at that. Who is that? "Jay? Is he supposed to be here?"

"Yeap! He went to take the last bolt of your Japanese denim—oh there he is!"

You know the saying, every good thing comes with a price? While yes, there is a price tag to every bolt of fabric tha you receive from Sinar Textile today—apparently, there is a hidden tax that you have to pay the Goddess for granting you with this opportunity after Maki's stupid stunt yesterday.

And that tax is Jay. Or more precisely, if your memory hasn't betrayed you—the pervert alpha from the frat house party a few weeks ago.

There he is indeed, walking down the hallway in a similar black Polo shirt. He's carrying a bolt of Japanese denim, but does he have to carry it on his shoulder like that? It looks so show-off-y, what with the way his biceps stretch against the sleeves, bulging muscle straining under the weight of the fabric. His face is as handsome as you remember it, and without the dim light of the porch, every cut of his face is clearer for your eyes to see now in broad daylight.

Damn it. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly good-looking?

Your smile has never dropped so fast, but it's the opposite case for the alpha, because as soon as he recognises you—you've never seen a smile light up so fast.

"Cherry?"

You could barely tone down your irritation. Who the hell is Cherry?

"Are you the other part-timer?"

Jay blinks confusedly. He glances at the clipboard in his hand, and then his eyes widen imperceptibly.

"Oh—I apologise. You're Miss Y/N, right?"

"Yes, that's me," you narrow your eyes at him. But Jay only smiles back. "And you are Jay."

His eyes shine—what the heck?—at the mention of his name. "You know my name? It's actually Park Jongseong, but you can call me Jay. It sounds better when you say it."

You try to ignore the offended gasp coming from Jake.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm not!" Jay is fast to deflect, shaking his head when you only stare at him thretaeningly. "I just—I think—I just want to…talk to you?"

Jake and Sunghoon wince from sheer awkwardness.

"Aren't you here for Sinar Textile?"

"Yes."

"Then we're here strictly for business. I am going to open my door and you three will carry the bolts inside, and then you leave. Understand?"

If Jay were to have wolf ears like Sunghoon, they'd droop like wilting flowers from your tone alone. "I understand," he gives in, then shoots a serious look at two of his friends behind you.

"Boys, let's get moving!"

Jake springs up with a salute. "Aye aye, captain!"

You sigh and unlock the door to give way to them. The three boys lift two bolts at the same time, marching in like soldiers ready for the battlefield. Jay stops briefly in front of you, and you prepare another scolding if he tried to say something absurd again.

"Where would you like these?"

You almost falter by the unexpected, but you don't let it show. "At that corner. I tidied up that space for these bolts yesterday."

Jay nods and wordlessly steps further inside. You watch as the three men move effortlessly together, avoiding mannequins and putting down the bolts gently like true experts. They seem close, judging by how at ease they are with each other. Probably just three best friends working part-time together to kill the time while gaining extra pocket money.

Jake, being the first one to reach the corner, claps his hands and looks around. There's amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Wow, this is my first time at the fashion building and I already got to be in a private studio."

You quirk up an eyebrow. "Are you from around here?"

There's a surprised chuckle from the beta. He slaps a hand on Sunghoon's shoulder, but the wolf hybrid barely budges.

"Yeah, we attend this university too! I am from engineering, Sunghoon is from law school, and Jay is from the business department—obviously, if he wants to inherit this company."

Your curiousity is growing like a moving snowball. "Inherit…?"

"Sinar Textile is owned by his parents. He's just doing this on the weekend when he's got nothing to do with his basketball team," Jake casually says like he didn't just drop the bombest bomb you've heard the entire week.

That says a lot, considering The Nakakita incident yesterday.

And—What?! Sinar Textile is—what—so Mrs. Park is his mother?

You are left with no words. Not that you could muster anything, when said guy is already speaking. "Stop referring to me like I'm not in the same room as you."

Jake pouts at that. "Well, you're busy with your clipboard, so why not?"

"I am counting the inventory and preparing the invoice for Miss Y/N," Jay smoothly says, while he's scribbling something on the clipboard. You ignore the efficient way his hand moves, the veins popping on his forearms, and the pout he makes when he's focusing.

When he chances you a glance, you scowl back at him. The alpha only smiles.

It's so irritating. Why does he keep smiling?

"Alright boys, get back to the van. I'll follow you after I'm done with the invoice."

"Stop bossing me around! We are the same age!" Jake protests.

"Well, technically, I am your boss."

"A boss baby! You are not even the CEO yet!"

Sunghoon only sighs and drags Jake by the arm to follow him. He stops momentarily in front of you, gives you a short bow and a 'thanks'—that you reply back with a 'thanks' too, what the heck?—before he leaves with the beta. Jake waves his hand at you, his previous pout melting into a wide grin.

"See you again, Miss Y/N!!! Please invite me to your fashion week!"

If it weren't for Sunghoon's tail and wolf ears, you'd think that Jake was the hybrid. Probably golden retriever—that seems to suit him more.

It's only when Jay clears his throat that you're reminded you're left alone with him in this studio. Instinctively, you back into the door, putting more distance between the two of you. Jay doesn't seem to mind or take offence, he just gives you that easy smile that's been putting you on edge since fifteen minutes ago.

"Two bolts for Japanese denim, linen cotton, and blended silk each. This is your invoice. You may make the first payment when we send you an email," Jay speaks, his tone professional, as he hands you a piece of paper the size of A4. "Please sign here."

You take the pen painfully slowly, trying to avoid any physical contact, and sign.

"If you need anything more, please feel free to contact me." You glare at him. "Or any of us, really! But don't hesitate—my mom told me to put you on our priority list."

There he goes again. Typical alpha trying to flirt his way into your pants. As if you had forgotten about his perverted gaze a few weeks ago!

You cross your arms and dare to look into his eyes. "Thank you. I will contact Jake."

Jay purses his lips. "That's great. Jake works every Saturday and Sunday, while Sunghoon works after 3 p.m. on weekdays. Please feel free to reach out."

He opens his mouth, seemingly to add something, but decides against it when he smiles instead.

"It's actually nice to see you again," he mutters almost quietly, his tone soft and delicate, the grip of professionalism loosening. "I've been hoping I could run into you again."

But you're not easily swayed by sweet-faced alphas like him. "So you can, what, stare at my chest again?"

Jay's ears perk and blush a deep shade of pink. "What? No! Y/N—" he shakes his head, eyes pleading. "I really meant it when I said that I didn't mean to! I swear I'm not a pervert. Please forgive me."

"But you still stared."

"I…did." His voice becomes quieter, the confession feels like cold air hanging in the studio.

Jay shifts in place. The way you stare at him all cold and menacingly seems to undo him more than anything. From where he stands, he can catch a whiff of your scent—the sweet cherry that's been haunting him since that night.

You're so pretty even when you're mad, glaring at him like some kind of a criminal like this. A sight that he's not used to, because people often look at him like an angel sent from the Goddess as an apology on behalf of the alpha population.

"Y/N," he begins, already making up his mind. Your name falls easily from his lips now that he finally gets the chance to know it. "I would like to apologise. I made you feel uncomfortable twice, and probably unsafe, too. I deserved to get beaten more than what you did that night."

"Yeah, I should poke your eyes for good measure. Making sure your eyes don't stare at omegas like that again."

"I don't do that with other omegas, though. Only with you."

"So, congratulations? I'm your first victim?"

Jay panics. "No!"

"Your favourite victim?"

"No!"

"Your exclusive victim?"

"Please stop saying victim."

"Then stop staring at my boobs. You're doing it again." The corner of your lips lifts when the crimson on his ears deepens. Okay. It's kind of fun teasing him, and truthfully, you're no longer that upset from his behaviour that night.

"No, I'm sorry," Jay dips his head lower, staring at his feet, not catching your intention. "It's very wrong of me. I sincerely apologise. Please forgive me."

Your heart does something strange. The sincerity in his voice is unlike any other you've heard from not even a single alpha before. It's raw with honesty and vulnerability, like he actually spends every night dwelling on this mistake of a first impression he had made of himself.

But you say nothing. You simply stare at the alpha whose eyes are remorsely fixed on the ground.

"I know you probably don't trust me."

You snort. "Obviously."

"But I hope one day you'll feel safe around me."

There it goes again—your heart, lurching like Jay was a K-drama main lead saying something corny to win the heroine over. But this is not fiction, and Jay is not your alpha, nor are you his omega.

"Are you threatening me with a next time?"

He shifts again. "May I earn another first impression someday?"

You almost scoff at that. You wish there's no next time or someday! ...Though, you admit, if you put aside the two—or three if you count just now—times he stared at your boobs, it has been quite alright to talk to him.

He just has this aura that puts people at ease around him. Maybe it's his face, or the citrusy scent coming from him that easily tops every other masculine pheromones you have ever sniffed, but Jay just has a way with words that makes you feel like old acquaintances.

Whatever. A pervert is still a pervert!

"Actually, my family has chosen an alpha for me."

Jay's smile falters. "Oh."

You lift your chin proudly. "Yeah! Apparently his family is very wealthy, and he's ridiculously handsome too."

Jay only blinks at you, taking every hint of rejection like a champ. "I see. I mean—that's what you deserve. An omega like you doesn't deserve anything less than that."

Your eye twitches. Why is he so damn good with words? You can't tell if it's genuinelt who he is or if it's all performative. And that infuriates you.

With a newfound determination to flaunt an unknown alpha, you triumphantly nod. "And everyone says that he's the most perfect gentleman. My mom said that he's—" How was he again? "—Very capable and hardworking. I can't wait to marry him!"

Now, you're pushing it. You don't want to marry that alpha. Hell, you're just about to accept the dinner invitation after this!

"That's good…" Jay scratches his cheek. Damn it. Jay realises that you're really trying hard to reject him, even when he hasn't said explicitly that he likes you.

But Jay is a man who can take a hint.

"That's quite a reputation. I really hope he treats you well."

"He will."

Jay purses his lips, trying to swallow down his disappointment. Of course. A pretty omega like you is rarely ever single or unclaimed, even though he doesn't see any mark on your nape or sense any alpha presence around your scent.

Sigh. Just as he finally found an omega that he genuinely likes.

"I wish you and your alpha the best, Miss Y/N." Jay lowers himself to a 90-degree bow. "Thank you for trusting Sinar Textile, and I'm sorry again."

And with that, Jay takes his leave, until the echo of his footsteps fades into oblivion. Once you're confident that you're out of his earshot, you instantly fish for your phone and call your mother.

"Mom!"

"Hello darling~ Did everything go well with the shipment?"

You bite your nails. "Yes, yes it did. Mom, I need your help."

"What is it, sweetheart? Have you finally decided to buy that new handbag from Bonia?"

"No, Mom. I think," you close your eyes and sigh exasperatedly. Truly, there's no one else that puts you in worst case scenarios but yourself and your life decisions.

"I think I'm ready to meet that alpha that you like so much."

As expected, your mother squeals into the phone and you have to force your phone away from your ears.

Great.

Now you have to mentally prepare yourself to sit with an alpha boasting about his wealth and alpha-ic achievements for approximately two hours.

All because you wanted to avoid Jay.

Or so you thought.

Of course, fate—the little evil author that it is—decides that humiliation ritual would be the perfect trope for your failing love life.

Because why the hell are you seeing Jay coming out of the black Mercedes now parked in your mansion?!

"Mom!" You whisper-yell, already halfway bolting upstairs when you see him and his parents start walking towards the door of your house. "You said that the alpha's name was Park Jongseong!"

Your mom, who's been gushing over how handsome and perfect Jay is for you from behind the curtain where the both of you are spying on the newly-arrived guests, only nudges your shoulder gently.

"He is Park Jongseong. And those are Mr. and Mrs. Park."

"No! That's—that's Jay!"

Your mom coos, fanning her face dramatically and turning to your father. "Oh my, honey, did you hear that? They're already on nickname terms with each other."

You feel like climbing the stairs and purposely falling and rolling down to the ground.

This cannot be real!

"Wait," your mother suddenly stops her dramatic gesture. She fixes you with a curious gaze, eyes squinting suspiciously.

"How do you know him?"

Maybe jumping would be faster and easier.

On the other side of the door, Jay has been fiddling with the collar of his suit for the tenth time. Beside him, Mrs. Park is frowning, swatting at his hand when he reaches for his tie again.

"Why are you fixing your tie again? It already looks perfect."

Jay swallows. "I don't know."

No, he actually knows why. Jay has never been able to lie truthfully—an irony that always amuses his friends. His body is vibrating with never-ending nerves ever since he had reluctantly agreed to his mother's planned family dinner with the omega she has taken a liking too.

Yeap. To put it simply, Jay is nervous.

And his mother catches it, if the soothing accent of her scent is telling something. "You'll like her," she convinces. Then, as if it was an afterthought, she adds, "You already met her."

If Jay was shocked, he didn't let it show.

Well, it doesn't matter, does it? When his wolf and himself have been so captivated by you.

Whoever this omega is, Jay wants to apologise in advance. He thinks he needs a couple of months to properly move on from the wonder of you before he'll be ready to accept any dating arrangement again.

"If you're confident that I'll like her, then I hope she's the person I have on my mind, Mom."

And that is the truth. If he had already met this omega and his mother's instincts are sure that he'd fall for her—then it can't be no one else but you.

Jay had crossed paths with many omegas. He had been flirted with, pursued, and even outright confessed to more times than he could count, yet no one had occupied his thoughts quite like you.

And to think that you're spending your time with another alpha…

Jay swallows down the bitterness and forces his pheromones to calm down.

Too lost in his frantic, chaotic mind, Jay hasn't realised that he's already standing in front of the door. It swings open before any of them could press the doorbell, revealing a beautiful couple and…

"Cherry?"

His cherry.

When the scowl appears on your face, Jay feels like a diver finally coming up to the surface for air. The nerves that have been jagging every edge vanish almost instantly, now replaced with a relief so profound it feels like being given a second chance at life again.

It's really. Really. You.

"It's Y/N, you dummy."

That hostile gaze. That frown and unfriendly tone.

It's really you.

The smile that spreads across Jay's face is so hopelessly fond that Mrs. Park immediately knows she doesn't have to do any matchmaking tonight. Your frown deepens, hating the blatant display of joy that's coming from him.

What is he so giddy about?!

Meanwhile, your mother is completely oblivious to the glare you're shooting at him.

"I told you, they're already using endearments for each other!"

You hope the ground could swallow you.

Jay hopes the ground could move and bring him closer to you.

part two coming soon <3

divider from @/cursed-carmine

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[heebunnii]

on the edge 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

pairing :: yang jungwon x reader warnings :: nerd!won, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst, fluff, happy ending, uni/college au, bff!enha, she fell first he fell harder, crying, kiss, food mentions, alc mentions, light drug usage, awkwardness, they’re both overly overdramatic😒 a/n :: it was so much harder to write him like this after being dadawon brainrotted so i’m thinking nerd!won smut hcs otw🤓 ALSO i know there’s much longer fics out there and many more writers who can write this much with ease but this is my first Monster Demon Baby™️ so #talk2menice word count :: 25.8k (ꃋᴖꃋ)

summary :: you’d never really been friends with jungwon. run in the same circles, sure! seeing him twice a week at your little game nights before realising you guys take the same course, also sure! but never friends. that is until, a missed lecture changes that for the better ><

university had settled into something comfortably predictable. the frantic first weeks of introductions and orientation events had faded months ago, replaced instead by routines that seemed to repeat themselves without anyone really noticing. monday mornings always began with students rushing across campus twenty minutes later than they’d intended. the library was impossibly full by lunchtime despite everyone insisting they worked better in their own rooms. by friday afternoon, every coffee shop had queues stretching through the doors, fuelled by exhausted students convincing themselves they deserved an overpriced coffee after surviving another week.

somewhere between all of that, you’d found your place. looking back, it was strange how quickly everything had happened. you’d arrived expecting months of awkwardness, eating lunch alone, second-guessing whether anyone would remember your name after conversations, wondering if uni friendships really were as effortless as people had made them seem.

instead, they’d simply… happened.

sunoo had been the first. he’d sat beside you before your introductory lecture had even begun, complaining dramatically about the size of the campus before asking if you’d figured out where the nearest coffee shop was yet. neither of you had. by the end of the afternoon, the two of you had spent almost three hours wandering around hopelessly lost before accidentally stumbling across the student union together.

after that came jay, who somehow possessed the remarkable ability to complain about absolutely everything while still being the most dependable person you knew. then jake, whose boyish eagerness felt almost impossible to rival, and sunghoon, who’d seemed intimidating right up until you’d realised ninety percent of his sarcasm disappeared whenever someone offered him food.

before long, dinners became shared instead of solitary. library sessions somehow turned into six people studying different degrees around the same table simply because nobody wanted to work alone. birthdays, movie nights, grocery trips, midnight walks to convenience stores after collective assignment breakdowns… somehow, they’d all become normal.

it wasn’t that your newfound group spent every waking moment together. everyone’s timetables were different. there were weeks where assignments swallowed whole days, where some people disappeared beneath deadlines while others barely had a lecture scheduled. but somehow everyone always found their way back together eventually, as though it had become an unspoken expectation rather than something anyone actively organised.

you liked that. how there wasn’t any pressure, only familiarity. outside of your own friends, uni had a funny way of making people feel familiar too.

your course was large enough that you couldn’t possibly know everyone, yet small enough that faces started repeating themselves. people you’d exchanged exactly one conversation with would smile as they passed you on campus. classmates whose names you’d never learnt would wave from the opposite side of lecture theatres. baristas recognised your coffee order before you’d even reached the till.

jay insisted it was because everyone knew you, you insisted he was exaggerating. the truth probably sat somewhere in the middle. you’d always found it easier to smile first than wait for someone else to. if someone looked nervous before a presentation, you’d wish them luck. if someone sat beside you in a lecture, you’d introduce yourself before either of you had time to overthink the silence. conversations came naturally enough that you rarely realised you’d always be the one to start them until they’d ended.

people remembered kindness more than confidence, something you’d learnt a long time ago. which, to give jay some credit, was probably why you recognised so many faces despite knowing so few names.

one of those faces belonged to someone you’d never actually spoken to, you couldn’t even remember the first time you’d noticed him. he’d simply always seemed to exist somewhere on the edge of your life.

sometimes you’d catch sight of him crossing the courtyard with headphones resting loosely around his neck, one hand buried in the pocket of an oversized hoodie while the other balanced an impossible stack of books against his chest. other times he’d already be sitting near the front before lectures began, quietly reading through notes while everyone else chatted around him.

he left classes quickly. professors barely finished dismissing everyone before he was gone, disappearing into hallways crowded with students until he became impossible to pick out from everyone else.

you didn’t know much about him, only fragments gathered accidentally over the course of a year. he was ridiculously smart. heeseung lived with him and you’d hear his complaints, albeit fond ones, about how when jungwon had an exam or assignment coming up, however small, he wouldn’t leave his room until he was impossibly sure of himself, which never happened. 

riki also complained (in much less detail) that he spent too much time studying.

sunoo had once described him as “one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet once he forgets to be nervous.”

that last one had surprised you. from a distance, he always looked composed, quiet, sure. but never nervous. if anything, he’d struck you as someone perfectly content staying in his own company. the kind of person who preferred observing conversations rather than joining them. you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him raise his voice. or laugh loudly. or even stay somewhere longer than he absolutely had to.

still, he was difficult not to notice. perhaps because everyone around him seemed louder by comparison. heeseung laughed with his whole body. riki rarely stood still for longer than thirty seconds. jay somehow managed to turn ordering lunch into a competition. sunghoon teased sunoo relentlessly and jake always seemed to be stuck in the middle, trying his hardest to swat sunghoon’s persistent hands away from sunoo as he tried not laugh himself, for sunoo’s sake. jungwon simply… existed quietly amongst all of it, as though he occupied a completely different pace to everyone else.

you never gave it much thought, he was simply another familiar stranger. someone whose face had become a comfortable part of your life without ever crossing fully into it.

despite sharing more mutual friends than either of you probably realised, you and jungwon had somehow managed to spend the better part of a year existing almost entirely on the edges of each other’s lives. it became one of those things you only noticed after it had already been happening for months. the two of you would be invited to the same birthday dinner, only for one of you to arrive after the other had already settled into conversation. someone would suggest a movie night at heeseung and riki’s flat, and while everyone else gradually drifted into the living room, you’d somehow end up helping jay order food while jungwon disappeared into the kitchen to make more drinks. group photos would be taken at the end of the night, proving you had, in fact, spent several hours in the same room, despite barely exchanging more than a passing glance.

it almost became funny, but not in a way anyone ever pointed out. just one of those strange little coincidences that seemed to happen naturally whenever enough people were involved. if there was a seat beside jungwon when you arrived, someone would inevitably call your name from the opposite end of the table before you had a chance to sit down. if you wandered over to ask heeseung something, jungwon would suddenly realise his cup was empty and excuse himself to refill his water. if everyone split into smaller conversations, the two of you somehow always ended up in different ones. not deliberately. just… somehow.

the closest thing you’d had to a conversation happened sometime during the first semester. you’d arrived at heeseung and riki’s flat with two bags of snacks balanced awkwardly against your hip after volunteering to stop by the corner shop on the way over.

the front door was already unlocked. you’d let yourself inside, calling out a quick hello that was immediately drowned out by riki shouting something unintelligible from the living room. before you could make sense of it, someone appeared around the corner.

jungwon. he’d looked just as surprised to see you as you’d been to see him. for a second, the two of you had simply stared at each other.

“…hey.” you grinned. he noticed the hopeful sparkle in your eyes before he noticed the way the left side of your face tilted up slightly more than the right when you gave him one of the blinding smiles you seemed to dish out so abundantly to his friends. he thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“…hi.” he muttered back sheepishly, dropping his gaze to the floor on instinct. 

then he’d stepped aside to let you through with a small, polite smile before disappearing down the hallway again. that had been it. looking back, you weren’t even sure if it counted as a conversation. it obviously hadn’t felt like one.

after that, much to your dismay, the pattern simply continued. you knew who he was, everyone did. if someone mentioned jungwon, nobody ever had to ask, “which one?” he’d built something of a quiet reputation around campus without ever seeming to try.

people on your course didn’t know much about him beyond the obvious. they knew he studied computer science, that he consistently did well in every module he took and that professors seemed to like him. every now and then, his name would come up when someone was complaining about an assignment.

“jungwon finished it last week.”

“apparently he got full marks.”

“does he ever sleep?”

the answer, according to heeseung, was apparently “not during exam season.”

you’d lost count of the number of times he’d shown up somewhere and casually mentioned that jungwon hadn’t left his room all day.

“he’s revising.”

“again?”

“he says he isn’t ready.”

“his test’s tomorrow.”

“exactly.”

heeseung always said it with the same mixture of affection and disbelief, like someone talking about a younger brother who worried far more than he needed to.

riki, on the other hand, had much less patience for it.

“he acts like every quiz decides his entire future.”

“it kind of does,” heeseung had replied once.

“no, it doesn’t.” riki muttered out, rolling his eyes as far back into his head as he could.

“to him it does.” heeseung smiled, swatting riki on the shoulder as he teased him for his dramatics.

the conversation had moved on quickly after that. most conversations did. people laughed, someone changed the subject and eventually everyone started talking over one another again.  still, little comments like that stayed with you, simply because they slowly filled in the gaps around someone you barely knew. the version of jungwon everyone described never quite matched the one you saw. they talked about someone who panicked over assignments, second-guessed himself constantly and somehow managed to convince himself he’d fail exams everyone else expected him to ace. the jungwon you’d always seen seemed unnaturally calm. he walked across campus at an unhurried pace, never looking particularly rushed even when everyone around him was sprinting to lectures. he’d sit quietly before classes with a notebook open, reading through something while conversations buzzed around him. when people spoke to him, he always looked up immediately, giving them his full attention before answering. reserved, maybe. quiet, definitely. but never anxious.

you wondered, briefly, if he simply hid it well. or maybe people behaved differently around those they were comfortable with. the thought didn’t linger for long. everyone was different around their friends, you probably were too.

one friday evening, the two groups ended up at heeseung and riki’s flat after jay had declared that nobody should be spending the end of the week working. the plan had been to order takeaway, watch a film and, in jay’s words, “pretend deadlines don’t exist until monday.”

predictably, the film never really happened. jake and heeseung couldn’t agree on what to watch. then sunghoon decided he was hungry before a decision had been made, so much so that he refused to talk about anything else. by the time food finally arrived, everyone had split off into different conversations scattered around the flat. you found yourself squeezed onto one end of the sofa beside an exasperated sunoo while jake and sunghoon argued over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. jay had wandered into the kitchen to find more drinks, heeseung followed after him. riki disappeared for reasons nobody questioned. at some point, you realised jungwon wasn’t in the room either. you only noticed because he returned a few minutes later carrying a stack of clean plates balanced carefully in both hands. without interrupting anyone, he set them down on the coffee table one by one before disappearing back into the kitchen.

he came back again with cutlery. then napkins. someone thanked him absentmindedly. he nodded once.

“no worries.”

and sat down as though he’d done nothing at all. it was such a small thing that nobody else seemed to pay it any attention. conversation carried on without missing a beat. sunghoon was still insisting pineapple absolutely belonged on pizza.

jay, now involved, disagreed so passionately that you’d begun to suspect it was personal. across the room, jungwon listened with the same quiet smile he’d worn all evening, occasionally laughing under his breath whenever riki deliberately tried to make the argument worse. he looked just comfortable enough to let everyone else fill the room while he quietly existed alongside them. for someone who supposedly struggled around people, there was something unexpectedly reassuring about the way he never seemed to force himself to keep up.

somewhere between arriving and leaving, you realised you’d learnt something new about jungwon. that he wasn’t quiet because he had nothing to contribute, he was quiet instead because he never seemed to feel the need to compete with everyone else for the conversation.

and, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself thinking that was admirable.

the problem with missing lectures wasn’t usually the lecture itself. it was everything that came afterwards.

lecturers had an unfortunate habit of squeezing the most important information into the last ten minutes of class; the reminders about coursework, changes to seminar groups, little comments that never made it onto the slides but somehow always ended up appearing in exams.

normally, you really wouldn’t have worried. one of your friends would send their notes eventually. except this lecture unfortunately happened to be shared with almost none of your friends. by the time you’d made it back onto campus, your phone was already buzzing with messages.

jay Where are you?

sunoo u alive??

jake thought you’d overslept 😭

you smiled to yourself, typing out a quick explanation as you walked across the courtyard.

doctor’s appointment. i’m alive, unfortunately.

three dots appeared almost immediately.

jay Truly devastating news

you rolled your eyes. he still texted like your dad.

the lecture theatre ahead was already emptying by the time you reached it. students spilled into the corridor carrying half-zipped backpacks and takeaway coffees, conversations blending into one another until it became impossible to tell where one ended and another began. a few familiar faces smiled as they passed. someone from your seminar waved. you returned it automatically before stepping to one side to avoid a group hurrying towards the stairs. too late. you’d known it before you’d even arrived. still, disappointment settled somewhere in your gut anyway.

“you look like someone just told you christmas is cancelled.”

you turned to find sunoo weaving his way through the crowd, balancing a coffee in one hand and his laptop under the other arm.

“i missed it.” you pout, poking him in the arm. he followed your gaze towards the lecture theatre.

“…ah.” he realised, mirroring your pout almost mockingly. you’d take it as an insult if his eyes didn’t have that affectionate sparkle in them, seeming to be naturally ever present around you anyways.

“i even left home early.”

“that’s rough.” he said, more gently now. you only sighed in return.

“did i miss much?”

sunoo considered it.

“…honestly?”

your shoulders lifted hopefully.

“…i wasn’t really paying attention after the break.”

you stared at him blankly, eyebrows just starting to furrow.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m honest.” he giggled, winking at you.

“you’re hopeless.”

“a little.” he didn’t sound remotely apologetic.

the two of you drifted further into the corridor to avoid blocking the doorway as more students filtered past. somewhere nearby, someone dropped a folder, sending loose sheets skidding across the floor. three people immediately crouched to help gather them, the interruption lasting all of thirty seconds before everyone continued on with their day. nothing never really stopped moving. sunoo took another sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“you need the notes?”

“unless you’d like to sit my exam for me.” you deadpanned.

“…hard pass.”

“thought so.”

he made a thoughtful noise.

“mine aren’t great.”

“i know.”

“wow.”

“last time i borrowed your notes you wrote ‘i’m hungry’ halfway through a paragraph.”

“because i was.”

“you’d also drawn a cat.”

“…it was a cute cat.”

you laughed. there was a brief pause. then, as though the answer had only just occurred to him, sunoo clicked his fingers.

“ask jungwon.” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

the suggestion came so casually that it took you a second to process it.

“…jungwon?”

“yeah.”

“why?”

“because he actually listens. and because his notes are terrifying.”

“terrifying?” you replied, eyes wide.

“you’ll see.”

you frowned slightly. asking someone for notes wasn’t unusual. you’d obviously done it before, many times in fact. people asked you all the time too.

still…

“i’ve never actually spoken to him.”

sunoo looked back at you, genuine confusion etched onto his face.

“yes, you have.” he said, suddenly so sure of himself.

“have i?”

“you’ve said hi.”

“…i don’t think that counts.”

“close enough.”

you weren’t convinced, he seemed to notice.

“seriously,” he said. “he won’t care.”

“how do you know?”

“because if someone asked him for notes, he’d probably apologise that they weren’t neat enough.” you couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“…you’re exaggerating.”

“i wish i was.”

before you could answer, his phone buzzed. he glanced down, groaned dramatically and shoved the coffee into your free hand while he typed out a reply with both thumbs.

“seminar?”

“unfortunately.”

he took the coffee back.

“come on.”

“what?”

“he’s probably still inside.”

your eyes drifted towards the lecture theatre doors.

they’d almost emptied now.

through the small window, you could just make out a few remaining students gathering their things.

“…i’ll feel weird interrupting him.”

“you won’t. okay, you might.” sunoo admitted, eyes narrowed as he mused. you gave him a flat look in return.

“helpful.”

“but he’ll still say yes.”

the lecture theatre was almost empty by the time you finally walked inside, a little while after sunoo had walked off to his seminar. you’d stood outside the door for a little longer than you probably needed to, fingers resting against the handle while you tried to convince yourself that this was not a big deal. because it wasn’t. it really wasn’t. you weren’t asking him for anything unreasonable. you weren’t about to have some life-changing conversation or confess some huge secret. you weren’t even asking for help with something complicated. you just needed notes, that was it. you still couldn’t for the life of you figure out why it felt like so much to ask, but that was obviously the reason for your unusually timid lingering outside the door.

you’d seen jungwon’s notes before. not properly, but enough to know that they were probably going to save you from spending three hours trying to piece together half-remembered information from the slides. the problem was not the notes. obviously. 

the problem was that you had never actually spoken to jungwon before. something which always seemed to be nagging at you when you were around him. clearly, you knew which people he was friends with, because you were their friends too. you knew little things you had picked up without meaning to, the same way everyone did when they spent months around the same people. but knowing about someone and knowing someone were completely different things. and for some reason, the thought of walking up to him made you hesitate.

if anything, he was the opposite of unapproachable. he was always easy to be around, yet strangely hard to interpret. there was something about approaching someone who always seemed comfortable in their own space that made you feel like you were stepping into something you hadn’t been invited into.

which was silly. you knew that. you were really not someone who usually overthought things like this. especially not so much so that you were loitering outside like an idiot, rocking on the balls of your heels with too much running through your head. you rolled your eyes at yourself, and how all of this was so unlike you. instead, taking a small breath, you pushed the door open. the sound was louder than you expected in the quiet room. it felt completely different after everyone had left. earlier, it had been filled with voices and movement, people packing away their things while talking about assignments and plans for later. now, it was almost peaceful. the rows of seats stretched out in front of you, sunlight falling across the desks near the windows. a few forgotten papers were scattered around, abandoned by students who had already moved on to their next class.

and there he was. you spotted him almost immediately. you weren’t surprised. if anything, you would have been more surprised if he wasn’t there. he was still sitting near the front, his attention focused on his laptop while he finished whatever he was doing. for a second, you just stood there. you almost laughed at yourself. because why had you made this into such a big thing? he was just a person, a friend at that. a friend who you needed notes from. a friend who would probably definitely say yes.

still, your feet felt slightly heavier as you walked closer. you stopped beside his desk. he didn’t notice immediately. and you were glad he didn’t, because it gave you one last second to collect yourself. then you spoke.

“hey.”

his head lifted. the reaction was small, but you caught it. the slight surprise, the way his attention shifted fully towards you. for a moment, he looked like he was trying to place why you were standing there. then, recognition settled it, not dramatically, just a quiet moment where you felt like you could hear his every thought as you glanced sheepishly at his eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses. something about that made you feel strangely less nervous. because, obviously, he knew who you were. and he wasn’t looking at you like an inconvenient interruption.

“hi.” he said, sounding his voice muffled as he cleared his throat behind his hand. his voice sounded softer than you expected. you smiled slightly.

“sorry, i hope i’m not bothering you.”

he shook his head almost immediately. the response came so quickly that you wondered if he was worried you had mistaken his surprise for annoyance.

you relaxed a little.

“okay. good.” you muttered out, unusually shy.

there was a small pause after that, not really awkward, just unfamiliar. you were two people who had existed around each other for months without ever having a reason to talk. and now suddenly, you did. you explained that you had missed the lecture and needed the notes. you found yourself adding the reason why, even though he hadn’t asked. you mentioned the appointment running late. maybe because you didn’t want him thinking you had skipped class. maybe because there was something oddly important about really wanting (needing) for him to have a good first impression of you, even though technically this was far from his first impression.

the whole thing was ridiculous. you didn’t even know why you cared. jungwon just nodded. as always, there was no judgement in his expression. no teasing. no comment about catching up. a tiny part of you almost wished there was. maybe then you’d be able to open him up a little bit. you told him sunoo had said his notes were really good. and almost immediately, jungwon tried to downplay it, which, to be honest, you’d expected somehow. there was something very predictable about the way he refused to make a big deal out of himself.

you looked at the notebook beside him and pointed out sheepishly that his notes actually had structure. you admitted yours usually consisted of random words that only made sense for the first ten minutes after typing them. this earned a small reaction from him, not quite a smile, but close, and for whatever reason, that felt like a really big victory. jungwon just turned back to his notebook and started gathering the pages. you watched quietly, noticing how there was no rush in the way he moved. he seemed to take care with everything, making sure he had everything he needed before handing it over. as always, it was strangely comforting.

when he looked back at you, he hesitated.

“i can send them.” he said, looking up at you again.

“really?” you smiled.

he nodded and you watched as he glanced between you and his notebook like he had reached the obvious next step but hadn’t figured out how to get there. for a moment you just looked at him with confusion until you realised, he didn’t know how to send them. because neither of you had actually exchanged any way to contact each other. you grinned again before he had the chance to overthink it.

“i can give you my number.” you offered hopefully, his eyes lifting to meet yours again.

“okay.” he mumbled, finally returning your smile, a lopsided grin taking over his features. you thought there was something oddly sweet about how willing he was to help even whilst being unsure of what to do next. you unlocked your phone and handed it to him.

“just put yours in.”

he typed his number in, saved the contact, and handed it back. you looked down.

jungwon

“that’s it?” you said without thinking, he merely blinked up at you in return.

“what?”

“your contact.”

he looked down at the phone.

then back at you.

“yeah?”

you laughed softly.

“i don’t know. i expected maybe something else.”

“like what?”

you glanced at the screen.

“an emoji or something.”

the silence that followed was so genuine that you had to stop yourself from laughing. you don’t even know why you’d said it, you wouldn’t have even done it yourself.

“i don’t really use emojis.”

you smiled brighter and then immediately noticed the tiny hesitation in his expression. you manually tried to soften your own face in hope that he wouldn’t take it as making fun of him.

“i’m not judging.”

“i know.” he mumbled quietly.

almost like he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring you. you added that you never used emojis either, which was absolutely not true. you know your friends would have laughed out loud if they’d heard you say it. but something about the small look of relief on his face made your white lie worth it. there was another quiet moment.

“thank you, by the way.” you said, trying to fill the silence as quick as you could. again, he nodded.

“it’s okay.”

you picked up your phone, looking down at his contact one more time before putting it away. now jungwon wasn’t just someone you sat near in lectures or someone you merely shared mutual friends with. now he was someone you had spoken to, someone who had your number. someone who would probably text you later.

“see you later, jungwon.” you motioned to wave before stopping yourself and putting your hand back down again.

“see you.” he replied, another lopsided grin taking shape after he caught your stifled gesture.

and that was it. you walked out of the lecture theatre with his contact saved in your phone, the unexplainable stress finally lifted.

you didn’t expect jungwon to send the notes so quickly. not because you thought he would forget. if anything, forgetting seemed like the least likely thing he could do. from everything you’d heard about him, jungwon was probably the type of person who made reminders for his reminders. you had already accepted that the notes would arrive eventually, probably later that evening after he had checked through them one more time and decided whether they were good enough to send. what surprised you was the fact that your phone buzzed before you’d even reached the other side of campus. you felt oddly good about seeing jungwon’s name. there was a difference between seeing his name appear in a group conversation and seeing it sitting privately in your own messages. it was such a stupid and small thing that you almost laughed at yourself for noticing.

jungwon hi i've sent the notes over

underneath were the files. you clicked on the first one while continuing to walk, expecting exactly what sunoo had described. you were prepared for them to be neat. you were prepared for them to be organised. you were not prepared for them to make you question whether you had been approaching uni notes incorrectly this entire time. the document was almost painfully structured. everything had a place. every topic had been separated clearly, important points marked out without making the page look overwhelming. there were small explanations beside certain concepts, things he had probably written down for himself because he knew he would want to remember them later, but obviously, they were equally as helpful for you too.

you stared at the screen for a few seconds. you barely knew him, but you could already imagine the process. him sitting somewhere quiet after the lecture, going through the notes again, deciding what was important and what wasn’t. because that was simply how his brain worked. you typed back before you could overthink it.

these are actually ridiculous

you paused. you didn’t want to sound like you were insulting him, especially not after he so graciously did you this favour.

quickly, you added:

in a good way 😭

the response did not come immediately. you found yourself looking at the little typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. it made you smile slightly. you’d never considered yourself someone who intimidated easily. you were usually the person who filled awkward silences, who introduced yourself first, who made conversations easier for other people (so you’d been told). but jungwon had a way of making you acutely aware of every small interaction. maybe because he seemed so careful in comparison.

eventually, his reply appeared.

jungwon thank you i think they’re okay

you giggled under your breath.

jungwon there are diagrams my notes look like i was writing during an earthquake

this time, his reply came a little quicker.

maybe your handwriting is just fast

you stared at the message. it wasn’t exactly a joke. not one you’d typically laugh at anyways. but there was something about the fact that he had tried to lighten the mood. 

that is the nicest way anyone has ever called my notes terrible

jungwon i didn’t call them terrible

you could practically hear the seriousness behind the message.

you didn’t have to

after that, your conversations stayed small. you preferred it that way. you didn’t suddenly become attached to your phone waiting for him to reply, and jungwon didn’t become someone who messaged constantly. that would have felt unlike both of you. instead, he became someone who existed slightly more in your day. a message about a lecture, a question about an assignment, a quick clarification when you didn’t understand something from the notes he had sent. you noticed quickly that jungwon was much easier to talk to through messages than you had expected. however, he was occasionally so formal that you wondered if he had accidentally written an email instead. but you’d like to muse there was warmth underneath it. maybe that was wishful thinking.

he always answered properly. if you asked something, he didn’t just send a vague response and disappear. he explained and he made sure you understood. and, perhaps more surprisingly, he started asking things back. small things; how your assignment was going, whether you had managed to catch up on the lecture, whether your exam preparation was going better. obviously simple questions, but they mattered to you because they meant progress. and because jungwon was not someone who asked things just to keep a conversation alive… when he asked something, he genuinely wanted to know the answer. you found that oddly refreshing. you were used to people knowing you. that was the strange thing about being naturally social. people often assumed familiarity. they knew your name. they knew your friends. they knew what you were studying. they knew the stories you told at parties or the jokes you made in group chats. but there was a difference between being known and being noticed.

jungwon noticed.

the next time you saw him outside of lectures, it was at one of your usual gatherings. not big enough to call a party, but usually, nobody was sober enough for it to be just an average hangout. by now, heeseung and riki’s place had become almost a second home for your progressively more tight-knit friend group. nobody really planned anything properly anymore. someone would mention they were bored, someone else would suggest going over, and within an hour half you’d all somehow end up there. it was comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected relatively new friendships to become.

you arrived with sunoo and jay, already listening to them argue about something completely unnecessary. the moment you walked in, the usual noise surrounded you. music playing quietly from heeseung’s speaker, riki complaining about losing a game he insisted he wasn’t taking seriously, jake laughing unabashedly from somewhere in the kitchen, heeseung attempting to stop everyone from making a mess while very clearly contributing to it.

it took you a moment to realise jungwon was already there. he was sitting at the edge of the sofa, listening while jake explained something animatedly beside him. before, you probably wouldn’t have approached him. you would have smiled. maybe waved. eventually, someone else would have pulled you into another conversation. but now it felt different. you obviously weren’t best mates. but friends enough that when your eyes met across the room, you wouldn’t hesitate to smile. and this time, he smiled first. it was a tiny thing. so tiny that you wondered if you imagined it. but you didn’t. something about that made you feel strangely content, you noted the way your cheeks flushed an embarrassing pink, feeling the heat spread up your neck as you took in his lopsided smile again.

later, after everyone had settled down, you found yourself sitting near him while the others argued over what film to watch. you weren’t sitting beside him intentionally. at least, that was what you told yourself. there simply happened to be space there. and he happened to be there. the conversation moved around you naturally, everyone speaking over one another the way they always did. jungwon wasn’t the loudest person in the room, but you had started noticing that he never seemed left out.

people included him without thinking. heeseung would always ask for his opinion on whatever niche topic they were discussing like their lives depended on it, jake would show him stupid memes on his phone that rarely prompted a reaction from anyone, riki would jab and poke at him until jungwon’s face broke out in one of his endearingly wonky grins. at some point, your conversation shifted towards classes. you mentioned the lecture you’d missed to sunoo and jay, mostly as a joke about how much work you had to catch up on.

jungwon glanced over.

“did the notes help?” he said, perking up as he did so.

“they did,” you said, smiling. “actually, they helped more than the lecture probably would have.”

he immediately shook his head.

“no, they wouldn’t.” he replied, brows furrowed.

“jungwon.”

“what?”

“you literally explained half of it better than the slides and the prof did.”

he looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t have a response ready. that happened sometimes. you were beginning to notice it. jungwon was always prepared when it came to academics, but when it came to compliments, he never knew what to do with them. again, you found yourself thinking it was so endearing. obviously not enough that you would ever admit it, not right now anyways. you mentioned one part of the topic that you still didn’t fully understand, not expecting anything from it, you were really just babbling on at this point, to anyone that’s listen, although sunoo and jay had moved on and were having their own conversation now.

but jungwon listened.

and after a moment, he just started explaining. in the middle of heeseung’s living room. not with overly complicated definitions or phrases that made you feel like you were supposed to already understand. he broke it down slowly, making sure you followed each step, like he could see the cogs moving in your head and the moments things clicked for you.

“‘was easier to understand than the actual lecture.” you stared at him blankly after he’d basically summed up the entire second half of the module.

“was it?” he asked, confusion plastered onto his face yet again.

you nodded in reply, realising that you were probably making uncomfortable with the sheer amazement in your eyes. he looked down, a pink flush slowly creeping up his neck.

“i just explained it differently.” he shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose as he lifted his gaze to meet yours again.

before you could respond, sunoo, who you now realised had clearly been listening despite pretending not to, looked over.

“you know, you could literally just tutor her.” the suggestion was casual, almost thrown away. 

you just looked at jungwon. he looked back at you. and immediately, you saw the thought cross his face, like the idea had never occurred to him.

“i don’t know if i’d call it tutoring,” he said eventually, a deeper flush now making its way up to his cheeks.

“well, what would you call it?” sunoo (almost) snapped, raising an eyebrow.

jungwon opened his mouth. then stopped, because he didn’t actually have an answer. you giggled softly, and this time he didn’t seem as embarrassed. he just looked away, a small smile spreading across his features despite himself. the conversation moved on soon after. jay changed the topic, riki started another quietly fond argument with sunghoon. the moment just passed, much to your forcibly subdued dismay. 

the idea of jungwon tutoring you was never supposed to become an actual plan. at least, that was what you’d told yourself after his brief hesitation. it had been nothing more than something sunoo had thrown into the conversation because he found amusement in pointing out things before anyone else noticed them. for as long as you’d known him (albeit it’d only been a year), he had a habit of doing that, noticing the typically imperceptible shifts between people and making them obvious before anyone involved was ready to acknowledge them. you’d learnt that about him quickly. sunoo always knew when dynamics had changed before either person realised it themselves. so, when he suggested jungwon tutoring you, you had laughed, because it felt too soon to call it anything like that. you and jungwon had exchanged a handful of conversations. you had his number. he had yours. he had sent you notes. you had made unfunny jokes about his lack of emojis. that was hardly enough to suddenly turn him into your personal academic support system.

except, as the weeks went on, you started noticing how often you ended up relying on him. there was a question you couldn’t figure out, so you checked the notes he had sent you. there was a topic you didn’t understand, so you found yourself wondering how jungwon would explain it. that strangest part was that you weren’t someone who usually needed help. not because you felt so uncomfortable that you were were incapable of asking, but because you were normally the person other people asked. it was a role you’d always fallen into without noticing, until now, that is. you were organised enough to remember deadlines, social enough to know who to ask if you needed something and patient enough that people felt comfortable coming to you. your friends joked that you somehow became everyone’s emergency contact despite barely being able to keep track of your own schedule.

you liked being helpful. you liked feeling useful. but there was something unexpectedly comforting about having someone who was willing to do the same for you. jungwon never made you feel like you were behind. he never responded to questions with the kind of surprise that made you feel embarrassed for asking. he simply answered, without fail, every time. and maybe that was why you started asking more. jungwon noticed too. just probably not in the same way you did. you were aware of the changes because they happened around you. you noticed that you no longer hesitated before saying hello when you passed him on campus. you noticed that seeing his name appear on your phone no longer felt surprising, but instead comfortable. for jungwon, it was less obvious because he wasn’t used to analysing his friendships in that way. he had always been someone who let things happen naturally. he had friends. good friends. people he trusted. but most of those friendships had formed slowly, through repeated exposure and familiarity. he wasn’t usually the person who approached first. not because he didn’t want to, but because he had never been particularly good at knowing when he was truly welcome.

with you, he never had to wonder, that was the part that caught him off guard. you made things really easy for him. you spoke to him with your soft, unguarded voice like there was no reason not to. you included him in conversations without making a performance of it, which obviously made it feel more genuine. you looked up at him with your big sparkling eyes through long lashes and nodded attentively when he was talking you through something, so he wouldn't have to guess if you were listening or not. jungwon was used to people noticing him for specific reasons; his grades, his ability to solve problems, the fact that he was reliable. he wasn’t used to someone being interested in what he had to say even when the topic had nothing to do with your syllabus. and you did that often. you asked him small things. what he really thought of the film you’d all watched at heeseung’s place. whether he thought the fancy coffee shop near campus was actually worth the price. whether he agreed with jay’s very strong opinions about literally everything.

none of the questions were particularly important, but jungwon always found himself thinking about them afterwards. he wondered if he’d still be thinking about the things you asked him if they’d come out of anyone else’s mouth. which was becoming increasingly inconvenient for him. because he had assignments. and exams. and a schedule that already felt too full. yet somehow, he always found time to reply to you.

the first time the tutoring idea became a genuine possibility was after another lecture. not because you had planned to ask, in fact, you'd actually been trying very hard not to bring it up. there was something slightly embarrassing about admitting you were struggling with a topic that everyone else seemed to understand. logically, you knew that was ridiculous. uni was difficult and everyone struggled sometimes. but there was still a part of you that hated feeling like you were falling behind. you had spent the better part of an evening trying to understand a section of your module notes, moving between your own work and the lecture slides until the information started blurring together. eventually, out of frustration more than anything else, you sent jungwon a message. you stared at the text blankly for a while before sending it.

hi Lol sorry this is random but do you understand this part?

you attached a screenshot.

almost immediately, you regretted the wording because you realised you’d apologised before even asking. something you did more often than you liked to admit. also, something jungwon had bought up with you before. telling you gently that he felt it was unnecessary to apologise for shivering next to him on heeseung’s sofa while you were sat right next to an open window.

you put your phone down and tried to focus on something else. it lasted approximately three minutes. then your phone buzzed.

i can explain if you want

you smiled before you could stop yourself at the way he’d always phrased his messages. he left space for you to decide. you replied that you would appreciate it, expecting another explanation over text.

instead, a few minutes later:

are you on campus tomorrow?

you stared at the message. your first thought was that you had somehow misunderstood.

yeah, why?

the reply came a little bit slower this time.

i can teach you properly

you looked at the screen for a moment. it was such a jungwon thing to suggest. practical and straightforward, completely unaware of how much trust was involved in what he was offering. because for jungwon, explaining something to someone wasn’t a big deal. it was simply something he could do, and did, regularly in fact. for you, though, there was something different about it. this wasn’t borrowing notes or a quick explanation during a group hangout. it was choosing to spend time together. just the two of you. you found yourself smiling slightly at the thought, then immediately questioned why. which was annoying. because there was nothing strange about spending time with a friend. and jungwon was becoming a friend! you thought that you really needed to stop treating every small interaction like it meant more than it did.

the next day, you met him outside the library. or, more accurately, you met him in the library because jungwon had apparently arrived early enough to secure a table before the usual afternoon rush. you weren’t surprised. when you approached, he was already there, laptop open, notebook beside him, two drinks sitting on the table. you slowed slightly when you noticed the second one.

“i didn’t know what you liked,” he explained before you could ask, gesturing towards it. “so i just got water.”

you looked at the bottle, then at him.

“jungwon.”

he paused.

“what?”

“you’re genuinely the most prepared person i’ve ever met.” you smiled.

for a second, he looked unsure whether that was a compliment. you had started noticing that happened often.

“i didn’t know if you’d have something to drink.”

“most people would just assume.”

“i didn’t want to assume.”

the answer was so simple that it caught you slightly off guard. jungwon always considered things other people overlooked. not because he was trying to impress anyone but because that was simply how he moved through the world. you sat down across from him, opening your laptop. and for the first time, you saw what everyone else probably saw when they studied with him. which wasn’t the intimidatingly smart person people talked about, not the student everyone went to when they were stuck. just someone patient, someone who genuinely wanted you to understand. which, somehow, made it much easier to admit when you didn’t.

the two of you didn’t study for very long before you ended up talking about other things, nothing particularly meaningful. just little conversations that happened naturally between his long, thought out explanations. you found out jungwon hated overly sweet drinks. you found out he had a habit of tapping his pen against his textbook when he was thinking. you found out he actually had a much drier sense of humour than you expected. and, perhaps most surprisingly, he found out you weren’t as effortlessly confident as he’d assumed. you admitted, almost accidentally, that you hated asking questions in lectures because you worried they would be obvious.

jungwon looked genuinely surprised.

“you?”

“what does that mean?” you muttered out through a frown.

“you talk to everyone.”

you laughed quietly.

“that doesn’t mean i can’t get nervous.”

he looked down at his notes. you mused that he probably understood that better than most people. because maybe that was the thing neither of you realised yet. everyone else saw the obvious parts of you; they saw someone friendly, someone confident, someone who belonged everywhere. everyone else saw the obvious parts of him; someone deeply intelligent, someone capable, someone who always knew what he was doing. but none of those things had ever fully summed either of you up. and maybe that was why the two of you got along. because you were both much more complicated than the versions people had decided on.

by the time you packed your things away, the library had started to empty. you hadn’t finished everything. technically, you had probably spent too much time talking. at the end of the day, you’d still understood bounds more than you had when you arrived. you looked at your notes, then at jungwon, a shy smile playing at your lips.

“i think sunoo was right.”

“about what?” he looked up and met your eyes.

“the tutoring thing.”

his expression immediately shifted, not really dramatically, but just enough for you to notice.

“oh.”

you giggled.

“don’t look so terrified.” you replied, pouting slightly involuntarily.

“i don’t.”

“you do.”

he just looked away. which, unfortunately for him, proved your point. you smiled as you packed your laptop away.

“i’m joking.”

but the idea didn’t disappear. and neither did the small smile that appeared on his face when he thought you weren’t looking.

the following tuesday arrived with the kind of weather that never seemed to make up its mind. the morning had started bright enough for people to leave their accommodation without coats, only for grey clouds to roll across the sky before lunchtime, threatening rain without ever fully committing to it. by the time your last lecture finished, the air had turned cooler, carrying the familiar scent of damp pavement that always seemed to settle over campus before autumn properly arrived.

you stood outside the building for a moment, adjusting the strap of your bag as students spilled around you. your phone buzzed.

hi i’m already at the library second floor i found us a table

you couldn’t help smiling. there was something strangely unsurprising about the message because of course he was already there. of course he had arrived early enough to secure one of the quieter tables before the afternoon rush started. of course he had somehow managed to phrase a simple text so politely that it almost sounded like an apology for disturbing you.

you typed back as you crossed the courtyard.

i’ll be there in five :D

you hesitated for a second before pressing send. the smiley face stayed. it wasn’t until your phone disappeared back into your pocket that you remembered your conversation about emojis. you laughed quietly to yourself. he was either going to think nothing of it… or spend the next ten minutes wondering whether there had been a hidden meaning behind one tiny :D

for some reason, the thought made you smile all over again.

the library was busier than usual. students filled almost every table on the ground floor, conversations kept deliberately hushed beneath the steady hum of printers and keyboards, while the occasional sigh or rustle of paper floated between shelves lined with textbooks that looked far too expensive for anyone to actually buy. you climbed the stairs two at a time before slowing your pace. there he was. he had chosen a table tucked beside one of the tall windows overlooking the centre of campus, far enough away from the busiest part of the floor that it felt almost secluded. his laptop was already open. two notebooks sat neatly beside one another. highlighters arranged in a straight line. a mechanical pencil resting precisely across the top page.

he looked up almost immediately. for a second, neither of you spoke. then his expression softened into a small smile.

“hi.” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t notice the pink you could feel spreading across your cheeks for no apparent reason.

“hi.” he whispered back, his lopsided grin deepening, his dimple now visible.

you slipped into the chair opposite him, dropping your bag onto the floor with considerably less grace than he’d arranged the table.

“sorry if i’m late.”

jungwon glanced towards the clock hanging above the staircase.

“…you’re three minutes early.”

you blinked.

“…oh.”

“just had to find something to apologise for, didn’t you?” the corner of his mouth lifted slightly again as he whispered. you just looked at him for a second before laughing under your breath while pulling your laptop from your bag, bringing it up to your face because now you really had to hide your red cheeks from him. it wasn’t much, barely even a joke. but you were beginning to realise something about jungwon. he was funny! not loudly and definitely not in the way jake was, where half the room inevitably ended up laughing with him. jungwon’s humour appeared quietly, tucked between otherwise serious conversations, almost hidden beneath the way he spoke. if you weren’t paying attention, you’d probably miss it entirely. which somehow made it even better. 

“thank you for doing this.” you said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence while settling your things across the table. 

“for what?” he looked genuinely puzzled, eyebrows furrowed and face devoid of that grin you’d come to really like.

“helping me.”

“you asked.”

“exactly.”

“i don’t mind.” he said with so much conviction that it caught you off guard, like he was urging you to believe him. there wasn’t any awkward insistence that it was nothing, no dismissive shrug. just a straightforward answer, as though helping you had never been something he needed convincing to do.

it made something in your chest feel unexpectedly warm. you had always been the friend who offered. who stayed behind after seminars if someone needed something explained again. who reminded everyone about deadlines because you knew at least one person would forget. you liked taking care of people. it wasn’t something you thought about very often until someone quietly returned the favour. 

jungwon opened one of his notebooks.

“which part?”

you pulled your own notes closer.

“this.”

you pointed towards a page that had become increasingly covered in question marks over the past few days.

“i understand the beginning.”

your finger moved lower.

“and then somewhere around here i completely lose whatever’s happening.”

he leaned forward slightly, just close enough to see the page properly. without thinking, you did the same. your shoulders almost brushed. you didn’t notice until you caught the faint scent of clean laundry and something woodsy. not cologne. nothing strong. just oddly fresh. you blinked quickly, forcing your attention back towards the notebook. jungwon, meanwhile, had already started reading. he didn’t seem to notice the distance between you at all, and you couldn’t help feeling like a little kid about the fact that you were so aware of it, and liked it in fact. perhaps he had simply decided it wasn’t worth acknowledging.

“okay,” he murmured after a moment. “i think they’re explaining it backwards.”

you looked up.

“backwards?” you asked, confusion painting your features like it rarely did. jungwon thought your scrunched eyes and tilted head was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“kind of.” he replied after clearing his throat. he reached for his pencil before hesitating.

“can i?”

you looked down, he was gesturing towards your notebook.

“oh.” you nodded quickly.

“yeah, of course.” 

only then did he start writing. his handwriting was somehow just as neat as you’d expected. he drew a small diagram, crossed something out, rewrote it differently. then turned the notebook back towards you.

“try thinking about it like this instead.”

there was no rush in the way he explained things. he never made you feel as though you were slowing him down. if you interrupted to ask another question, he answered it without sighing or trying to move on too quickly. if you looked unconvinced, he simply found another way of explaining the same concept.

after about twenty minutes, something finally clicked. you stared at the page.

“…oh.”

jungwon looked up.

“does that make more sense?” he asked, hint of a knowing smile spreading across his face.

“a lot more.”

you looked between the diagram and him.

“why couldn’t the prof just say that?” he looked almost embarrassed by the compliment.

“they probably did.”

“they definitely didn’t.”

“maybe they explained it differently.”

“jungwon.”

he met your eyes.

“you’re being modest again.” you whispered, poking him playfully in the shoulder. colour crept faintly into his ears.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

he looked away first. you smiled to yourself, you were starting to recognise his little pattern. whenever anyone complimented him, jungwon reacted as though they had accidentally handed him something that belonged to someone else. time passed easier than either of you expected. somewhere between diagrams, explanations and comparing lecture slides, the awkwardness that had hovered around your first few conversations dissolved into something quieter. more comfortable. you found yourself talking without thinking about it. sometimes about the work, oftentimes not. you learnt that jungwon almost always studied in the same spot because he liked the light from the window. he admitted, after a surprising amount of persuasion, that he couldn’t concentrate if people chewed too loudly. you confessed that you sometimes highlighted entire pages of content because you could never decide what was actually important.

“that defeats the point of highlighting.”

“i know.”

“then why do you do it?”

“panic.”

he looked down at your notebook.

“…fair enough.”

again, that tiny smile. small enough that someone across the room probably wouldn’t even notice it. you did, every time. and each time it appeared, it seemed to linger a fraction longer than the last. it happened gradually enough that neither of you noticed the hours slipping past. outside, the sky had darkened. students came and went around you, chairs scraping quietly across the floor as people packed their things and left. you only realised how long you’d been there when your stomach growled. loudly. the sound seemed to echo across the table, jungwon’s head snapping up at the sudden noise. your entire body froze. you covered your face with one hand.

“please pretend that didn’t happen.” heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly.

“i left straight after my lecture this morning.” you laughed awkwardly.

“i completely forgot to eat.”

jungwon didn’t laugh. he didn’t tease you. he simply looked at you for a second before quietly reaching down beside his chair. you frowned. he unzipped his backpack, rummaged around for a moment, then placed something gently on the table between you. a packet of chocolate almond pepero. you stared at it blankly, then up at him.

“…what?”

“you should eat.”

you blinked.

“jungwon…”

“before you try and study anything else… your stomach sounds unhappy.” he mumbled out after being interrupted mid sentence by another grumble from your tummy. despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that escaped.

“thank you.”

you picked the packet up slowly, still looking at it.

“…hang on.”

he looked up from his notebook.

“how did you know these were my favourite?”

for the first time all afternoon, jungwon hesitated.

“i…”

he looked as though he genuinely hadn’t expected the question.

“jay and sunghoon used to buy them for you.” he replied sheepishly, hand scratching at the back of his neck.

“yeah, but that was only once or twice.”

“it was eight times. that i was around to see it at least.” 

you stared.

“…you counted?”

“not intentionally.” he said, his eyebrows knitting together slightly.

“jungwon.”

“they were always the same… so i remembered.”

your heart did something strange. you weren’t even sure why. it wasn’t the snack. it wasn’t even the fact that he’d brought one. it was that he’d noticed! months ago, during noisy evenings where everyone had been talking over one another, he’d quietly remembered something so insignificant that even you would’ve forgotten mentioning it. you looked back down at the packet in your hands.

“that’s…”

you searched for the right word.

“…really thoughtful.”

he seemed almost confused.

“it’s just a snack.”

“yeah i know, ‘m just saying thanks anyways.” you spluttered out quickly and now, shyly, hoping he wouldn’t notice your immediate backtracking after his dismissal. you looked back up at him. for a second, neither of you spoke. jungwon rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck again, suddenly looking far more interested in his notebook than he had been a moment earlier.

“…i wasn’t sure if they were still your favourite.”

your smile softened again before you could stop it. it seemed like he was giving you an out from your previous embarrassment. you didn’t feel as much like you’d made an unnecessarily big deal out of it.

“they are.”

he just nodded once in reply.

“…okay.”

for some reason, that answer seemed to make him happy. and as you opened the packet, handing the first stick across the table towards him without really thinking about it, you couldn’t shake the growing feeling that somewhere along the way, tutoring had quietly become one of your favourite parts of the week.

by the time the packet of pepero was empty, the stack of notes between you had doubled. it hadn’t happened all at once. one explanation had turned into another, then into comparing lecture slides, then into jungwon suddenly deciding that one of the examples in your textbook was unnecessarily complicated and rewriting it from scratch in the margins of your notebook. you watched him for a moment while he worked. his brows drew together whenever he concentrated, creating the faintest crease between them that disappeared almost immediately whenever he looked back up. every so often, he would stop writing altogether, not because he had forgotten what he wanted to say, but because he was deciding how to say it. that was something you were beginning to admire about him. jungwon never explained things to prove that he understood them. he explained them so that you would.

it was a small difference, but one you hadn’t appreciated until now.

you had met plenty of people who enjoyed being the smartest person in the room. people who answered questions in ways that somehow made everyone else feel a little smaller for asking in the first place. jungwon was the opposite. if anything, he seemed happiest when the person sitting across from him finally understood. the little smile that appeared whenever something clicked for you was never smug, it was relieved. you caught yourself watching him again. this time, it wasn’t because he was explaining anything. he had reached up absentmindedly to push his glasses higher on his nose, only for them to slip straight back down again a few minutes later. he sighed so quietly you almost missed it before repeating the same movement without even thinking. you smiled to yourself before realising you probably looked like a bit of a perv, hastily bringing your hand up to your face to hide your smile as casually as you could.

“what?”

his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

you blinked.

“huh?”

“you smiled.”

“…did i?”

he nodded once.

“…why?”

heat crept into your face before you had a chance to stop it. he tilted his head ever so slightly. the expression wasn’t suspicious, just curious. you debated telling him. it wasn’t that embarrassing. not really. still…

“your glasses keep falling.”

his hand immediately lifted towards his face.

“…oh.”

“you’ve pushed them up about six times in the last ten minutes.”

“…have i?”

“i’ve been counting.”

for the first time since you’d met him, you watched jungwon look genuinely flustered. it wasn't dramatic, he didn’t splutter or hide his face. instead, his eyes widened just enough for you to notice before he looked away with a quiet, “i didn’t realise.”

you laughed softly.

“it’s kind of cute.”

the words left your mouth before your brain had caught up. silence settled between you. your smile disappeared.

oops! to be really honest, it was something you’d say to most people with ease. it wasn’t even typically an odd thing to point out, you remembered only yesterday telling jake how adorable he looked when he let his hair grow out a little longer. but something about the way jungwon looked up at you, like you’d just done something jail time worthy, almost made you wince. again, you felt like a kid, a really stupid one at that. you looked down at your notebook so quickly you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“i meant…”

why were you trying to explain it?

“they’re just…” you gestured vaguely towards his face without looking directly at him. “very… you.”

that somehow sounded worse.

“forget i said anything.”

you squeezed your eyes shut for the briefest second after seeing a lack of the lopsided grin you’d become accustomed to on his face. across the table, jungwon had gone completely still. he didn’t look offended. if anything, he looked as though his brain had momentarily stopped working.

cute. you had called him cute. he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. compliments had always made him uncomfortable. they tended to sit awkwardly somewhere in the middle of gratitude and disbelief, leaving him unsure which emotion he was supposed to choose. this one felt… different. because you hadn’t said it to be polite. if anything, you’d oddly seemed horrified that you’d let it slip, in a way so unlike what he’d seen of you these past few months. his ears felt warm. he was fairly certain they were turning pink. he hoped they weren’t.

“…thank you,” he managed eventually, the words quieter than he’d intended.

you looked back up, relief written plainly across your face. something in jungwon relaxed. the smallest laugh escaped him before he could stop it at the sheer speed in which the alleviation of your panic ensued. later, as the conversation drifted away from coursework and towards anything else that came to mind, the atmosphere around the table changed almost without either of you realising. the books remained open. pens still rested between pages. yet neither of you seemed particularly concerned with the fact that you hadn’t looked at the lecture slides in nearly twenty minutes. instead, you learnt that jungwon always listened to the same playlist whenever he studied because changing songs distracted him. he learnt that you couldn’t revise in complete silence because your thoughts became louder than whatever you were trying to memorise. you admitted that you had once colour-coded an entire set of flashcards only to lose them the day before a test. he admitted, after a surprising amount of hesitation, that he alphabetised the folders on his laptop.

“you’re joking.” you said, probably too loudly considering the fact you were in a library.

“…no.”

“every single one?”

he nodded.

“…it makes finding things easier.”

you stared at him for a moment before laughing under your breath.

“that’s…”

you searched for the right word.

“the most jungwon thing i’ve ever heard.”

“that’s probably true.”

“you agree?”

“…yeah.”

the consistent honesty of all of his answers no longer caught you so off guard. most people would’ve defended themselves, or laughed it off. jungwon simply accepted it. there was something strangely attractive about that. not because alphabetising folders was attractive.

obviously. but because he never seemed interested in pretending to be someone else. he wasn’t trying to seem cooler than he was, or louder, or more confident. he simply existed exactly as he was. and somehow, that made you want to know him even more. jungwon, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to stare. he wasn’t succeeding particularly well. he was trying so hard to make his constant glances look unintentional but his eyes simply kept drifting back without permission. you smiled all the time. he had noticed that weeks ago. not the kind of smile people put on automatically when they greeted someone. your smiles were different. sometimes they were quick and amused. like when jake would show you some stupid meme on his phone that only ten year olds would typically find funny, you usually ended up laughing at jake himself for his endearingly regressed humour. sometimes they spread slowly across your face before you even realised you were doing it. like when you and riki came to the conclusion that jay was in fact wrong about whatever he’d been arguing about with sunghoon with so much conviction. 

sometimes, when you laughed properly, your nose scrunched ever so slightly. he had never consciously paid attention to something like that before. now he couldn’t seem to stop noticing. every time you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear while reading. every time you frowned at a sentence before chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek. every time you looked up after finally understanding something he’d explained. he kept remembering them.

which was again, extremely unhelpful. he was supposed to be helping you study. he felt like he’d just been gawking down at you the whole time. eventually, the announcement echoed gently through the library.

“the building will be closing in fifteen minutes…”

you both looked up instinctively, then towards the windows. outside, the sky had turned almost completely dark. 

“…what time is it?” you frowned, surprise colouring your features.

“…eight forty-five.” he said, whispering long forgotten as he checked his phone.

your eyes widened.

“jungwon! we got here at one.”

“…yeah.”

you both looked down at the notebooks covering the table. then back at each other. somewhere between studying and talking, almost eight hours had disappeared.

“i didn’t even notice.”

jungwon nodded slightly.

“…me neither.”

the admission just lingered between you. it probably should have felt awkward. eight hours was a long time to spend with someone you’d only recently become friends with. instead… it felt strangely easy, comfortable, even. like the afternoon had passed exactly as it was supposed to. you packed your things away together, neither of you rushing despite the librarian beginning to switch off lights further down the floor. as you zipped your bag closed, your hand brushed against jungwon’s where both of you reached for the same pen lying between your notebooks. it barely lasted a second. just enough for your fingers to touch before both of you instinctively pulled back.

“sorry.”

you spoke at exactly the same time. then stopped. then looked at each other. a little giggle escaped you first. jungwon’s followed a second later. it was quieter, warmer. and somehow, hearing it felt like accomplishing something. walking out of the library together, you realised something that should probably have worried you a little more than it did. for the first time since uni had started you weren’t looking forward to the next tutoring session because you wanted better grades. you were looking forward to it because you wanted another afternoon exactly like this one. with jungwon. and, a step behind you, jungwon found himself thinking that perhaps he’d start arriving fifteen minutes early next week instead of ten. not because the library got busy. that was simply the excuse he gave himself, the truth was much harder to admit. he liked waiting when he knew you were the person he was waiting for.

a month passed quietly. not in the dramatic way some movies liked to pretend time moved, where seasons changed overnight and entire lives somehow transformed between one scene and the next. nothing about the last few weeks had felt particularly significant while you were living through them. lectures came and went. assignments accumulated faster than any real human being could finish them. the weather grew colder, the mornings darker, and somewhere along the way, the trees lining the paths across campus began shedding leaves that collected in damp piles beneath benches no one wanted to sit on anymore.

life carried on. the only difference was that, at some point, jungwon had become woven into it. you couldn’t have pinpointed exactly when. there hadn’t been a conversation where the two of you had agreed to keep meeting every week. nobody had suggested making tutoring a regular thing. it had simply… happened. 

the first time, you’d arranged to meet because of one particularly confusing lecture. the second time, because there was another topic you wanted him to explain before a quiz. by the third week, neither of you really needed an excuse anymore. thursday afternoons had quietly become yours. sometimes you studied in the library, tucked away in the same corner beside the windows where jungwon always managed to find a table before anyone else. sometimes you ended up in the little coffee shop across from the engineering building after discovering every seat in the library had already been taken. once, when it had started raining halfway through the afternoon, the two of you had spent almost an hour sitting on the floor outside an empty seminar room because neither of you wanted to carry all your textbooks somewhere else.

it didn’t seem to matter where you were. eventually, one of you would arrive first. the other would appear a few minutes later. and somehow, without ever talking about it, the afternoon would disappear. your friends noticed before you did, not in an obvious way. little comments slipped into conversations so naturally that you rarely thought much of them.

“aren’t you with jungwon today?” sunoo had asked one thursday when you’d turned down lunch because you wanted to finish a reading beforehand.

you’d blinked.

“…yeah.”

“thought so.”

that had been the end of it. another time, heeseung had wandered into the kitchen while jungwon was packing his bag.

“library?”

jungwon hadn’t even looked up.

“…yeah.”

“she’s already there?”

“…probably.”

heeseung had smiled to himself but wisely chose not to say anything else. it wasn’t strange. at least, it didn’t feel strange. friends spent time together, friends studied together. if anything, it made sense that you and jungwon had become close. you were taking similar modules, he explained things well, and somewhere beneath all of his quietness, he’d turned out to really make you laugh. you liked being around him. that was all. or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

by now, your study sessions had developed their own unspoken routine. jungwon still arrived first. you still apologised for being late, even when you weren’t, he poked fun at you for this and made you promise you’d stop (knowing full well you never would). he still insisted on explaining concepts from the beginning instead of assuming you understood the foundations. you still interrupted him halfway through with questions that somehow sent the conversation in completely different directions. he no longer looked surprised when you reached across the table to steal whichever pen he happened to be using. instead, he simply sighed with exaggerated patience before sliding another one towards himself.

“you’re unbelievable,” he’d muttered the week before.

“thank you.” you grinned out through a mouthful of apple.

“that wasn’t a compliment.” 

“it sounded like one.”

“…maybe a little.” he muttered out, mask of feigned disbelief broken by his lopsided smile.

you’d giggled so hard that people had actually looked over from neighbouring tables. jungwon looked faintly horrified, which only made you laugh harder. somewhere along the way, he’d stopped apologising every time the silence settled between you. you’d stopped feeling responsible for filling it. there were afternoons where the two of you barely spoke for twenty minutes at a time, completely absorbed in your own work before one of you quietly asked a question. the silence never felt uncomfortable. if anything, it was becoming one of your favourite parts. there was something strangely peaceful about existing beside someone who didn’t expect constant conversation.

“you’re staring.”

your head snapped up.

jungwon looked at you over the top of his laptop.

“…what?”

“you’ve been looking at the same page for five minutes.”

heat crept into your cheeks. had you? you glanced back down at your notes. the paragraph you’d supposedly been reading hadn’t changed. because, apparently, you’d spent the last five minutes watching the way sunlight caught against the rim of jungwon’s glasses instead. the way his dimple emerged slightly when he scrunched up one side of his face in concentration.

brilliant.

“i was thinking.”

“…about operating systems?”

“…yes.” you muttered out after a pause.

his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. you tried to keep a straight face. he tried to keep a straight face. neither of you managed it.

“you’re terrible at lying,” he said quietly, poking you playfully in the arm.

you pointed your pen towards him.

“that’s rich coming from the person who once tried convincing me he didn’t alphabetise his desktop.”

“…i don’t.” jungwon replied, still trying to make you believe what you knew was false.

“jungwon.”

“…it’s organised by colour now.” he replied, eyebrows raised.

you giggled again so suddenly that you had to press your lips together to keep the sound from carrying across the library. he smiled fondly, hoping you wouldn’t notice the affection that he felt was radiating off of every bone in his body. obviously not because he’d made a joke, but because you’d laughed.

it wasn’t until saturday evening that everything unravelled. everyone had ended up at heeseung’s flat again, the same way they always seemed to. sunghoon had suggested ordering takeaway (again). jay had complained about the prices before ordering it regardless. jake and riki were arguing over a game neither of them seemed particularly good at, sunoo had somehow convinced heeseung to help him bake cookies despite the fact that neither of them appeared to know what they were doing, leaving jay and sunghoon occupying opposite ends of the sofa. you wandered into the other living room (which heeseung has fashioned into a bar of sorts) in search of something to drink. jay followed a minute later.

“can you pass me a glass?” 

you reached into the cupboard without looking.

“thanks.” he replied simply, and if you’d met his gaze, you’d have seen the slight raise of his eyebrows and the hint of a smirk playing on his face.

he leaned against the counter while you filled your own glass with water. there was a comfortable quiet between the two of you, broken only by the distant sound of riki insisting someone had cheated.

“so.” he started.

you looked over.

“so?”

jay shrugged.

“nothing.”

“…you’re doing that thing again.” you exclaimed, probably louder than you should’ve.

“what thing?”

“where you say ‘so’ because you actually want to ask something. that thing that all older women do.” you said, poking him. you thought maybe riki was rubbing off on you, making fun of jay’s mannerisms even though he was only a junior, not too far off of you. he didn’t even bother denying it, just rolled his eyes at you exaggeratedly.

“…are you and jungwon dating?”

the question landed so casually that, for a second, your brain didn’t register it. you just blinked up at him for a second.

“…what?” you muttered, eyes wide.

“you heard me.”

“jay.”

“yes?”

“…what?”

he frowned slightly, as though you were the confusing one.

“i’m just asking.” he smiled, poking at you as if to reassure you. he didn’t expect you to have an expression on your face akin to that of someone who’d just been stabbed.

“why?” you said, forcibly narrowing your eyes as you tried to steel yourself. 

“because you spend half your week together.”

“we study together.”

“you also get coffee afterwards.”

“because we’re already there.”

“and then you walk each other home.”

“…we live in the same direction.”

jay just hummed in response, doing that annoying, all-knowing thing with his eyebrows again.

“interesting.”

“what is?”

“how you’ve got an answer for every single one.”

you opened your mouth. closed it again. before you could muster up another aimless defence, sunghoon wandered into the living room.

“what are you two talking about?”

jay answered before you could.

“whether she and jungwon are dating.”

sunghoon paused.

“…i thought they were.” he said casually.

your heart stopped. you actually thought this in your head before coming to the gross realisation again of how childish you probably seemed. sunghoon turned to glance between you and jay, looking genuinely confused.

“wait…”

his eyes moved between you and jay again.

“…you’re not?” he almost exclaimed, shock painting his features.

“…nope!” you said, popping the p in a desperate attempt to seem unbothered.

“oh.”

“…my bad.” he sounded almost disappointed.

you stared at both of them.

“…why would either of you think that?” you muttered, bringing your cup to your lips in a quiet plea that they’d take that question rhetorically.

much to your dismay, jay just gave you a look that bordered on incredulous.

“because every time one of us asks where you are, the answer is jungwon.”

“because he’s put almond pepero on the ‘essentials’ section on heeseung’s shopping list. and we all know you’re the only one who likes them.”

to your horror, sunghoon continued counting on his fingers.

“because i’ve seen him smile more in the last month than i did during the whole first year.”

“because you both look for each other before anyone else when we all meet up.”

your mouth opened. nothing came out. jay’s expression softened almost immediately, a twinge of regret in his eyes.

“hey.” he nudged your shoulder gently.

“i wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“…i know.” you mumbled, now even further embarrassed realising he’d probably noticed the flush on your cheeks.

“just forget i asked.”

you nodded. you tried to smile. you weren’t sure whether it looked convincing. because the problem obviously wasn’t that jay had asked. the problem was that, for the first time, you couldn’t stop replaying everything he’d just said. you did look for jungwon first. you’d never noticed that. and much more terrifyingly, had he?

jungwon had always preferred kitchens to living rooms. not because there was anything particularly interesting about washing dishes or collecting empty glasses, but because kitchens gave him something to do. there was a certain comfort in keeping his hands occupied while conversations carried on around him. from the sink, he could still hear everyone laughing from the other room, hear riki loudly accusing jake of cheating at whatever game they’d inevitably started, hear sunoo protesting about something that was almost certainly insignificant.

it was familiar. comfortable. he liked that. he was rinsing the last of the glasses when footsteps approached behind him, quick enough that he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. riki had never been particularly subtle.

“avoiding us already?”

jungwon glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his attention to the sink.

“i’m just washing dishes.”

“that’s not what i asked.”

he smiled faintly to himself. “i know.”

another pair of footsteps followed a moment later, slower this time. heeseung. without a word, he picked up a tea towel and began drying the plates jungwon passed across the counter. it was something the two of them had done often enough that neither of them thought about it anymore. for a while, the three of them worked quietly. or, more accurately, jungwon and heeseung worked quietly while riki stood nearby looking as though he were waiting for the perfect opportunity to interrupt.

it didn’t take long.

“so…”

jungwon didn’t look up.

“…what?”

“where’s y/n?”

the question was so casual that it took him a second to process, he frowned slightly in response.

“in the living room?”

“no.” riki shook his head.

“she went to get a drink.”

“…okay.” jungwon said blankly, obviously confused.

“and you didn’t follow her.”

jungwon finally looked up.

“…was i supposed to?”

the grin that spread across riki’s face immediately made him suspicious. heeseung noticed too, hiding a smile behind the rim of his glass. 

“he genuinely doesn’t realise,” riki muttered, sounding almost impressed.

“realise what?” jungwon almost exclaimed, frustrated now.

instead of answering immediately, heeseung rested the plate he’d been drying on the counter and regarded jungwon thoughtfully.

“when was the last time the two of you weren’t together for more than a day?”

jungwon just blinked. the question felt oddly specific. he thought about it for a moment. lectures, the library, coffee after studying, group dinners, another study session.

“…i don’t know.”

the answer came more honestly than he’d intended. because he genuinely couldn’t remember. somewhere over the last month, seeing you had become part of his routine. not in a way he’d ever consciously planned. you were simply… there. thursday afternoons belonged to the library now. if one of you finished class early, the other usually received a message asking whether they wanted to start studying sooner. if you both happened to be on campus longer than expected, one of you would inevitably suggest grabbing something to eat before heading home. none of it had felt unusual. it still didn’t. friends spent time together, and that was all.

“exactly,” riki said, sounding far too smug and pleased with himself.

jungwon frowned, which riki took as a sign to continue.

“that’s exactly my point.”

“…i don’t know what your point is.” 

“you never do.”

heeseung laughed quietly, folding the tea towel over one shoulder.

“he means that you’ve become close.” heeseung finally chipped in, fond look ever present in his gaze when regarding you or jungwon.

“we are close.” the words slipped out defensively before jungwon had really considered them. he paused, then looked back down at the sink.

“…i think.”

heeseung’s expression softened.

“you don’t have to sound so unsure.”

jungwon wasn’t unsure, that wasn’t the problem. he knew the two of you had become friends. good friends, probably. it was just strange hearing someone else say it aloud. because once they did, he found himself replaying the last few weeks in his head. you reaching across the table without asking to steal his pen, the way you always thanked him, even after he’d insisted you didn’t have to. the fact that you now complained whenever he skipped lunch, as though it had somehow become your responsibility to make sure he ate. he hadn’t noticed any of those things changing. they simply had.

“she’s good for you.” heeseung said it so matter-of-factly that jungwon looked up again.

“…what do you mean?”

“you seem happier.”

jungwon almost laughed.

“because i’m helping someone study?”

“because it’s her.”

the kitchen fell quiet. jungwon looked away first, he didn’t really know how to answer that. he liked spending time with you. that much was obvious. you made difficult afternoons feel lighter somehow. studying, something he’d always considered a solitary task, had become something he looked forward to instead of simply getting through. you made him laugh. more than he’d expected. sometimes without even trying. but that didn’t mean anything, did it? before he could untangle the thought, riki nudged his shoulder.

“you’re a lucky bastard, you know.”

jungwon looked at him.

“she’s pretty.” he continued, heeseung rolled his eyes in response, exasperated with riki’s instinct to always state the obvious.

“and she’s really really nice. everyone likes her.” there wasn’t any jealousy in his voice, just simple certainty.

“she could’ve asked loads of people for help.” heeseung added, much to jungwon’s dismay.

“yeah, well, she asked me.” jungwon almost snapped back, frown deepening further.

“exactly.” riki smirked.

“that’s what we’re saying.” heeseung added on.

jungwon opened his mouth before closing it again. but it was true, you had. for reasons he still didn’t fully understand. before he could think about it any longer, riki ruined the moment completely.

“seriously, hyung.”

he grinned.

“if i were you, i’d be feeling pretty lucky.”

jungwon rolled his eyes, reaching over to swat him lightly around the back of the head.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i know.”

riki rubbed the back of his head dramatically despite the fact that the hit had barely registered. heeseung only shook his head, amused. neither of them pointed out the faint colour settling across jungwon’s ears. neither of them needed to. because jungwon was already wondering why a perfectly ordinary conversation had left him thinking about you. not about your coursework, or the next tutoring session. just you. and for the first time since the two of you had become friends, he found himself lingering on the thought much longer than he meant to.

somewhere along the way, jungwon stopped feeling like someone you were trying to get to know. for months, he had existed at the edge of your life. someone you recognised before you knew him. someone whose name you heard often, whose face you saw across lecture halls and at group dinners, but never someone you expected to become important to you. now, you couldn’t remember the last time you went an entire day without speaking to him. it wasn’t intentional. that was what maybe made it worse. there had never been a conversation where the two of you decided to become close. no dramatic turning point where you suddenly realised you were friends. it had happened in the quiet spaces between everything else. a message after a lecture because you’d both complained about the same assignment, a five minute conversation that somehow became forty, a walk back from the library that became a regular thing because your routes happened to overlap. you had started knowing things about jungwon that you never would have noticed before. aside from the obvious, everyone knew he was smart. everyone knew he was reliable. everyone knew he was the person people went to when they needed help understanding something complicated. you knew the smaller things. you knew he always checked the weather before leaving the flat because he hated being caught in the rain, you knew he got quieter when he was tired, not because he was upset but because he was saving what little energy he had left for anybody else that needed it, you knew that when he was trying not to laugh, he pressed his lips hard together like he was physically stopping himself.

you knew he pretended not to care about things he absolutely cared about. and somehow, those were the things that made him impossible not to like. which was becoming a bit of a problem. because you were starting to notice him in ways you hadn’t before. you realised it one evening in the library. not in some huge, overwhelming way. you weren’t staring dramatically across the table, suddenly struck by how much you liked him… it was much more inconvenient than that. you were working through a practice question, completely stuck despite having already read through the explanation twice. jungwon was beside you, typing something into his laptop while occasionally glancing over to check your progress. you had gotten used to that, his quiet attention. the way he never interrupted unless he thought you genuinely needed help, the way he somehow knew when you were about to give up before you even admitted it.

“you’re doing that thing again.” he whispered, breaking the silence.

you looked up.

“what thing?”

his eyes moved briefly to your notebook.

“you’re staring at the paper like it’s a death sentence or something.”

you looked back down.

“feels like one.”

a small smile appeared on his face. that tiny reaction you had somehow become weirdly proud of causing. jungwon didn’t often laugh loudly. he didn’t have the dramatic reactions that some of your friends did. but when you made him smile, it felt like you’d earned something. which was ridiculous, you knew that. still.

“you’re impossible,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly.

“and yet you keep tutoring me.” you whispered back, scrunching up your nose as you did so.

“that’s because i’m nice.”

you looked at him, really looked at him with that quizzical glare he’d come to love.

“that sounded suspiciously like you were complimenting yourself.”

“i was stating a fact.” he muttered back, flush rising to his cheeks as he suddenly turned his head back to his laptop.

you giggled under your breath.

and that was when it hit you. not because he looked particularly different, or because something magical happened. just because you realised you wanted to remember this. you wanted to remember sitting in this library with him, you wanted to remember the way he looked when he was trying to defend himself, you wanted to remember the sound of his voice when he was amused. and that was when the thought finally settled.

oh. you liked him. and not in the vague way you liked people, the way you liked your friends. you liked jungwon. and instead of feeling terrifying, the realisation was strangely calm. like your brain had finally caught up with something your heart had already known for weeks.

after that, you didn’t suddenly become a different person. if anything, you became more yourself around him. because now that you knew why you enjoyed being around him, you stopped trying to explain it away. you stopped pretending that you didn’t look forward to thursdays. you stopped pretending that you didn’t check your phone more often when you knew he might message. you stopped pretending that you didn’t notice when he walked into a room. and maybe you became a little less subtle. not intentionally. you just found yourself wanting to make him smile, wanting to hear his little laugh, wanting to see the moments where he forgot to be reserved. you teased him a little bit more. you stole his pens more often despite having your own. you sent him random messages that had absolutely nothing to do with studying. sometimes he replied immediately. sometimes it took him hours because he was busy. but he always replied. and every single time, you caught yourself smiling. which was embarrassing because you had never been someone who cared this much about a notification.

jungwon noticed. he wasn’t sure when it started. at first, he thought nothing of it, you had always been friendly. that was one of the first things he had noticed about you. you made people feel instantly comfortable, you talked to literally everyone, you remembered names with an ease he wished he had about him. you smiled at strangers like it was the simplest thing in the world. so when you started saving him a seat before he arrived, he assumed you were just being considerate. when you started bringing him into conversations more often, he assumed you were making sure he didn’t get left out. when you started teasing him more, he assumed you were simply comfortable. all of those explanations made sense, because they were true.

but jungwon was also beginning to realise there was a difference between how you treated everyone else and how you treated him. you were still yourself, but there were moments. small ones. like the way you sometimes seemed to look for his reaction after saying something funny. like how you remembered things he mentioned once and brought them up weeks later, similar to what he did with you. how you had somehow learned his coffee shop order without him ever telling you, however simple it was.

he noticed. he noticed everything. that was the problem. because the more he noticed, the harder it became to convince himself that you were just being friendly. and he didn’t know what to do with that. jungwon had never been someone who rushed into things. he liked certainty, he liked understanding situations before acting on them. but with you, everything felt slightly unfamiliar. because he understood assignments and he understood programming, he understood problems with clear and correct answers. he didn’t understand why he felt disappointed when you had to leave early, he didn’t understand why he checked his phone more often than usual after sending you a message. he didn’t understand why, whenever everyone was gathered together, he always seemed to know where you were without trying. and he definitely didn’t understand (and was beginning to feel very frustrated by the fact) why he had started looking forward to fucking tutoring sessions of all things even when there was usually very little actual tutoring involved.

“you’re coming tonight, right?”

jungwon looked up from his laptop. you were standing beside the table, your bag already over your shoulder.

“coming where?”

you stared at him.

“jungwon.”

he blinked up at you before realising.

“oh.”

“game night.” you said, smiling at him and pumping your fist with excitement. right. the group had been planning it for nearly a week, he knew that. he just hadn’t connected the reminder to the fact that you were the one asking.

“yeah, sure, i’m coming.”

“good.” you replied, flashing him a toothy grin. your answer came too quickly but you didn’t seem embarrassed by it. if anything, you looked pleased.

“because i need someone on my team.” 

jungwon raised an eyebrow.

“you lost last time.” he deadpanned, glare flat but not devoid of a soft affection behind it, an affectionate which he secretly hoped you wouldn’t miss.

“because everyone cheated.” you whined, before remembering to keep your voice down.

“everyone?”

“everyone.”

“including me?”

“especially you.” you whispered back after hesitating a little.

he shook his head, but he was smiling. and you noticed. of course you noticed. you felt like you noticed everything about him now. however, the thing you didn’t notice was the way he watched you walk away. or the way he smiled slightly to himself when he realised he’d started looking forward to the evening for a reason that had nothing to do with the silly games jake and heeseung put him up to.

by now, nobody questioned where jungwon would be sitting. it wasn’t something that had been decided. there had never been a conversation where someone had pointed at an empty chair and declared it his, or where you had officially claimed the space beside him as yours. it had simply become another one of those small, unnoticed habits that appeared when people spent enough time together. the same way sunghoon always complained about being hungry approximately ten minutes after eating. the same way jay pretended he wasn’t invested in whatever game everyone was playing despite somehow knowing every rule. the same way jake always arrived a little bit late and acted as though everyone else had been waiting up specifically for him. and the same way jungwon always ended up beside you. sometimes you noticed it, sometimes you didn’t. that was probably what made it feel so natural. there was no awkwardness anymore. no carefully choosing where to sit, no wondering if you were bothering him, no hesitation before sending him a message that had nothing to do with coursework. at some point, jungwon had stopped being someone you were trying to get comfortable around. he was just someone you were comfortable with. which was arguably much more dangerous. because once you got used to someone being there, you really started noticing when they weren’t.

game nights had become a regular occurrence in heeseung’s flat. not weekly, because everyone had enough assignments and deadlines to make that impossible, but often enough that it had become part of everyone’s routine. the first few times, you had still felt like you were unwelcome, entering someone else’s space. jungwon, heeseung and riki lived together, and although you were friends with all of them, there had always been something slightly different about being in their home. it was where jungwon existed outside of uni. where he wasn’t the person sitting at the front of lectures with a laptop open and a notebook full of impossibly neat handwriting. here, he was different, softer. he wore old t-shirts and pyjama shorts instead of structured outfits. his hair was usually messy from running his hands through it while studying. he complained more than people would expect, especially when sunoo purposely chose the most frustrating games possible.

it was strange how much you liked seeing those parts of him. not because they were really that surprising, but because they were his. you had spent so long knowing him as someone everyone admired from a distance that getting to see the ordinary parts made you feel oddly special. tonight was no different. you were sitting on the floor between the sofa and coffee table, surrounded by half-finished drinks, snacks and discarded game pieces. everyone was talking over each other, which meant nobody was actually listening properly. except jungwon. he always listened, you had noticed that early on. even when he wasn’t actively involved in a conversation, he was paying attention. he remembered details people mentioned casually. he noticed when someone looked uncomfortable and quietly changed the subject. you had once asked him how he remembered so much. he had just looked genuinely confused, as though he hadn’t realised he did it, it was just so ingrained in his being, to care for others. that was probably one of the things you liked most about him. he never seemed to understand how thoughtful he was.

“you’re overthinking it.”

you looked beside you. jungwon was looking at your cards.

“you don’t even know what i’m thinking.” you frowned.

“yes, i do.”

“you’re very confident.”

“you’ve been staring at the same card for three minutes.”

you looked down, then back at him.

“that doesn’t mean anything.” you pouted, glaring slightly at him now over the top of your deck. he just smiled in response. 

you should have been used to that by now. his tiny grins, just for you. the way he was much funnier than people gave him credit for because most people never stayed around long enough to notice. but you weren’t, not really. because every time he made you laugh, some part of you still felt ridiculously pleased that you were the one who got to see that side of him. which was a thought you tried not to examine too closely.

the thing about liking jungwon was that it hadn’t changed your friendship. that had surprised you. you had expected the realisation to make everything feel different and much more complicated. like suddenly every interaction required careful consideration. instead, you had simply become the tiniest bit more aware. you noticed when he pushed his glasses further up his nose while reading. you noticed how he always checked whether everyone had arrived before starting anything. you noticed that he never took the last of whatever odd snack jake had bought over from the table unless someone specifically told him to. you noticed that he always walked slower when leaving places with you. that last one had taken you a while to figure out because jungwon never made a show of it. he never said he was waiting, he simply adjusted his pace. and somehow, you always ended up walking together. you wondered if he knew he did that. you wondered if he realised how many little things he did that made you feel important. you also used to wonder if you were the only one who noticed, which now you suspected was false after jay’s earlier interrogation. you were right. you realised this when you returned from the kitchen with two drinks and found everyone looking at you. well, not everyone. specifically just jay, sunghoon and sunoo. which was somehow worse.

“what?” you murmured, your voice lacking any real bite because of the probably too loud sigh that followed it.

sunoo immediately looked away too quickly for your liking.

“nothing.” he said, voice an octave higher.

“that was suspicious.” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“you’re suspicious.” he snapped back, sticking his tongue out immaturely.

“that doesn’t even make sense.”

“exactly.”

you stared at him blankly, then forced your gaze upon jay, who seemed like he was trying very hard not to smile.

“why are you all being weird?” you whined.

“we’re not.” sunghoon muttered, wiggling his eyebrows in that annoying way he often did.

“you are.” jay whispered at you, smug expression still pasted onto his sharp features.

before the conversation could continue, riki interrupted from across the room, completely unaware that he had saved you from being questioned further. or maybe he was aware. with riki, it was impossible to tell. you sat back down, handing jungwon his drink without thinking. only after you had done it did you realise you’d remembered exactly what he liked. again. not because he had told you, but because you just knew. jungwon accepted it with a quiet thank you, looking down at the cup before glancing back at you.

“you remembered?”

the question was innocent, he just sounded oddly surprised. you weren't quite sure why when he did the same kind of thing tenfold when it came to remembering your preferences and favourite things. but something about it made you feel a disappointed. because you weren’t sure why it surprised him so much.

“of course i did.” you shrugged forcibly, doing a bad job of feigning nonchalance.

you said it before you could overthink it. for a moment, jungwon just looked at you. then his expression softened.

“right.” he replied, face now weirdly blank other than the remaining fondness in his eyes.

that was all, just one word. not worth overthinking, you repeated in your head like a mantra.

later that night, when everyone had started leaving, you found yourself standing near the front door with jungwon. it wasn’t unusual because he always walked you out. sometimes he walked you home. sometimes he didn’t, depending on how late it was and how much work you desperately urged him to finish. you peeked out of the open door to see that it was raining lightly.

“i didn’t bring an umbrella.” you said sheepishly. jungwon just glanced towards the coat rack.

“i have one.”

“you don’t have to walk me.”

he looked at you. not confused, just slightly surprised. as though the idea had never occurred to him. 

“i know.” he replied blankly.

there was a pause. you immediately thought about backtracking, embarrassment probably evident on your face at how you seemed to just expect him to follow you to your accom, so used to it by now that you didn't even think of the other possibility. a feeling akin to shame burned at the back of your neck. then, he picked up his jacket.

“i want to.”

the relief that spread across your features was palpable. you hoped he didn't notice. jungwon said things like that so naturally, without hesitation, without realising how much weight they carried for you. you just smiled.

“okay.” you said so quietly it was almost a whisper. 

the walk home was quiet. not awkward, never really awkward anymore. you talked about small things. things that wouldn’t matter tomorrow. complaints about assignments. something stupidly funny jake had said to him earlier. a random story sunghoon had told you and sunoo about his crazy ex. ordinary things. you found yourself thinking that ordinary things with jungwon never really felt ordinary. and beside you, jungwon was having a similar thought. he had spent most of his life believing that comfort was something you built alone. in a quiet room, a familiar routine, a predictable schedule. he had never expected another person to become part of that. but somehow, you had. and the strange thing was, he didn’t feel like you had interrupted his life. you felt like you had always been there. when you reached your building, you turned back towards him.

“thanks for walking me.”

jungwon shook his head.

“you don’t have to thank me every time.”

you smiled.

“i know.”

a small pause, which you’d both seemed to be accustomed to by now. then, almost unconsciously, he smiled back. and neither of you noticed how long you stood there before saying goodbye, neither of you noticed that you were both reluctant to be the first person to leave. but maybe that was the thing about something becoming important. you didn’t always notice the moment it happened. sometimes, you only noticed when you realised you didn’t want it to stop.

the dinky coffee shop you two had discovered months ago had become quieter as the afternoon wore on. the lunchtime rush had disappeared almost an hour ago, leaving behind only the occasional student hiding from the rain outside and a few people scattered amongst the tables with laptops propped open in front of them. neither of you had noticed how late it was until one of the baristas began wiping down the empty tables nearby, a subtle reminder that perhaps spending nearly four hours discussing coursework wasn’t entirely normal behaviour. not that either of you minded. you couldn’t remember when studying had stopped feeling like studying when it was with jungwon. assignments still frustrated you and deadlines still came far sooner than they should have, but somewhere along the way, the time between arriving and leaving had started disappearing far too quickly. it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate whether you enjoyed the afternoons themselves or simply enjoyed spending them with him. if you were being honest with yourself, you had known the answer for a while now.

it was still strange thinking about it sometimes. not because it felt wrong or overwhelming, but instead because it felt so obvious in hindsight. you wondered if everyone else apart from jay and sunghoon had figured it out before you had. judging by the increasingly knowing looks from the rest of your friends whenever his name appeared in conversation, you suspected they probably had. you smiled faintly at the thought as you closed your notebook, reaching across the table to collect the loose sheets of paper that had somehow migrated onto his side over the last few hours.

“i think we’ve done enough work for today,” you sighed, stretching slightly in your chair.

jungwon looked up from his laptop, his expression softening into something quietly amused.

“we’ve been here longer than some of my lectures.”

“exactly my point.”

he laughed quietly before also beginning to pack his things away. over the last few months, you had grown used to moments like these. comfortable silences had become second nature between the two of you now. there was no pressure to fill every moment with conversation anymore. it was nice. you had begun to realise recently that your favourite part of the week wasn’t thursday afternoons themselves. it was the fact that they belonged, in some small way, to the two of you. uni was unpredictable and busy and constantly changing, but somehow this, whatever it was, had remained untouched by all of it. you knew that probably meant more to you than it should. probably meant more to you than it did to him.

“everyone keeps asking me about you, by the way.”

the words left your mouth casually as you zipped your bag shut. it wasn’t entirely untrue. all of your friends, not just your mutuals, had become increasingly interested in jungwon’s existence over the last few months, much to your embarrassment.

his eyebrows lifted slightly as he glanced towards you.

“why?”

“i don’t know.” you laughed quietly. “they’re nosey.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

you smiled to yourself at his response before continuing to pack your things away. there was something about talking to jungwon now that felt so easy compared to those first few conversations. you didn’t overthink every sentence anymore. you had long since stopped wondering whether you were bothering him. he was your friend. hopefully more than that, if you were thinking positively. the thing was, lately, you had started wondering whether perhaps you weren’t entirely alone in all of this. there were moments where he looked at you for slightly longer than necessary, moments where he remembered things you were sure you had only mentioned once, moments where he would choose to stay just a little longer when neither of you really needed to. you weren’t foolish enough to assume that meant anything on its own. but, naturally, sometimes you wondered. perhaps that was why you foolishly felt brave enough to continue the conversation.

“you know,” you smiled, resting your chin briefly against your hand as you looked across the table at him, “jay’s like… convinced that there’s something going on between us.” you blurted out as quickly as you could, as if not to give yourself time to immediately regret it.

his expression shifted immediately into something slightly embarrassed.

“i know.”

“it’s getting difficult to convince people otherwise at this point.”

“is it?”

“a little bit.”

there was a brief pause as he packed away the last of his things. you weren’t sure what the fuck possessed you to say what came next. perhaps it was because things had been so good lately. perhaps it was because you were tired of wondering whether you had imagined every small moment between the two of you over the last few months. or perhaps it was simply because you liked him enough to be a little brave! you smiled softly, looking down at your notebook rather than at him.

“i don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “i don’t think i’d mind all that much.”

the words were deliberately vague. gentle enough that you could pretend they meant very little if you needed to. however, you realised they weren’t ambiguous enough to fully shroud your true intentions after mumbling them out. the silence that followed lasted only a few seconds. it felt significantly longer. jungwon seemed to have froze. for a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure he had heard you correctly. his mind immediately began trying to make sense of what you meant, each possibility somehow more terrifying than the last. he knew his friends joked about the two of you often enough. he knew people made assumptions about your friendship. except suddenly, sitting across from you now, he realised there was another possibility he had spent months refusing to acknowledge. you. liking him. the thought shouldn't have felt so shocking anymore. it still did. because if you liked him, then suddenly every feeling he’d spent months carefully ignoring demanded to be acknowledged in return. and jungwon had never been particularly good with uncertainty. friendships made sense to him because they had rules he understood. this didn’t. he didn’t want to lose what the two of you had now. he didn’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable or complicated. he didn’t want to ruin this.

“i don’t think…” he began quietly before stopping himself, hand reaching up to scratch awkward at the back of his neck. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

your smile faltered almost imperceptibly, a grimace attempting to fight its way through.

“oh.”

it was such a small sound that he almost missed it entirely. he rushed to continue, unaware that the conversation the two of you were having had become entirely different ones.

“i just mean…” he paused, struggling to explain thoughts he’d barely managed to understand himself. “things are good how they are.”

you pasted on what you thought was your best smile before he had the chance to notice your expression properly.

“yeah.” you replied, nodding your head almost feverishly so he really understood that you meant nothing by it, ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut.

well, at least you had your answer now. looking back, you supposed you should have expected it. jungwon had never really been someone who sought out change when he was happy. perhaps you had simply allowed yourself to become a little too hopeful over the last few weeks. it was embarrassing more than anything else. how stupid of you to have misread things so badly.

“you’re right,” you smiled quietly, standing from your chair and slipping your bag over your shoulder. “they are.”

jungwon just smiled back, relieved that you seemed to understand him. what he didn’t currently realise was that you’d heard blatant, painful rejection, when he’d simply meant to reassure you, and in turn, himself. somehow, that hurt you far more than if he’d simply said no.

if jungwon was really being honest with himself, he thought things had gone surprisingly well. he had spent the entire walk home from the coffee shop replaying the conversation in his head, wondering whether he had explained himself properly. he hadn’t. he’d hardly gotten out a full sentence, much less explained to you everything that was on his mind like a normal person. he knows why he said what he said, because things are good how they are. it had felt honest. reassuring, even, to him at least. and to you too actually! you had smiled afterwards, you had agreed with him. the conversation hadn’t become uncomfortable or tense or anything he had spent the previous five minutes worrying it might become. so, all things considered, he had gone home thinking he’d done the right thing. for approximately twenty-four hours. because the strange thing about spending so much time with someone was that you became accustomed to all of their little habits without ever consciously meaning to. they simply became part of his own routine before he had realised they were there. jungwon knew exactly how long it usually took you to reply to his messages. he knew that you hated studying in complete silence and always put together strangely specific playlists whenever assignments became particularly difficult. he knew that you had an endearing tendency to become more affectionate when you were excited about something, talking slightly faster and laughing a little louder than usual. he knew that when you were tired, you absentmindedly played with the sleeves of your jumpers while trying to stay focused. he knew these things in the same unconscious way that he knew the walk back to his flat or his coffee order or his timetable for the semester. he simply knew them. which was why he noticed almost immediately when something had changed. not enough for anyone else to pay attention to, just enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. the first few days afterwards, he convinced himself he was imagining things. you still smiled at him when you saw him. you still sat right beside him whenever the two of you studied together. you still laughed at his jokes, even the terrible ones that never seemed to land with anyone else. nothing had changed. except, somehow, everything had.

you’d stopped doing that stupid thing where you stole his pens. it was almost like tradition now, like a routine, however childish and intentional you both knew it was. that one shouldn't have bothered him nearly as much as it did. for the last few months, he had found himself bringing extras whenever the two of you studied together because you always seemed to lose yours or decide his were somehow better despite being exactly the same. the first tutoring session you’d had after the coffee shop, he had unconsciously placed two pens beside your notebook before he’d even sat down, like he always did. one of them remained untouched for three hours. he told himself he was being ridiculous for noticing, yet he noticed anyway. you thanked him more often now, which somehow felt worse than if you hadn’t thanked him at all. there was a distance in your gratitude that hadn’t existed before. before, your appreciation had always been accompanied by teasing or laughter or some dramatic declaration that he’d saved your degree. now, they sounded almost formal. 

you were still kind. still yourself. just… quieter around him. nobody else noticed it. of course they didn’t. you were exactly the same around everyone else. he watched you laugh so hard at something jay had said one evening that tears had gathered in the corners of your eyes, heeseung watching you fondly from the other sofa. he’d watched you complain dramatically to sunoo about an assignment you’d been putting off for nearly two weeks, riki mocking you right to your face, much to your feigned annoyance. he’d watched you lean comfortably against sunghoon’s shoulder during a movie when you’d become sleepy halfway through. and then he’d watched you be stirred awake by jake’s constant fidgeting on the other side of you. you hadn’t changed. not really. except somewhere along the way, you had become slightly more careful around him. and that was infinitely worse. he found himself thinking about it far more often than he cared to admit.

“you’ve been staring at absolutely nothing for ten minutes.”

jungwon blinked before looking up from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen table. riki was looking at him suspiciously from across the room, eating cereal directly from the box despite heeseung’s careful placement of perfectly usable bowls right next to the boxes, to try and make it easier for him to just do the normal thing.

“i haven’t.”

“you have.”

heeseung looked up briefly from where he’d been making coffee before glancing between the two of them.

“you have.” he agreed through a grimace, much to jungwon’s dismay.

jungwon frowned slightly. “i’m just tired.”

“you’ve been tired for two weeks.”

“uni is difficult.”

riki snorted loudly from his seat.

“no, y/n is difficult.”

the words caught him so off guard that he nearly dropped his pen. heeseung, as always, looked considerably less surprised.

“i was wondering how long it would take for you to say it.” heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes.

jungwon just stared at both of them.

“…what?”

“you’re moping, won.” riki snapped, his tone of voice not matching the sympathetic look on his face.

“i’m not.”

“you’re staring into space all the time.”

“i do that anyway.”

“you’ve made coffee twice this week and forgotten to drink it.”

he paused.

“…that’s happened before.”

“not because you’ve been thinking about someone.” heeseung finally interjected, annoyingly all-knowing look in his gaze. jungwon went suspiciously quiet after that. because that wasn’t possible. was it? he’d spent so long trying not to think too carefully about his feelings for you that he had somehow missed when they’d become something entirely different. he missed hearing from you throughout the day. he missed the way you’d absentmindedly rested your chin against his shoulder while trying to read something on his laptop screen. he missed the familiarity of knowing exactly what you were thinking before you’d said anything at all. more than that, though, he simply missed feeling close to you. he found himself looking for you whenever he walked into a room before he’d even realised he was doing it. he knew immediately when something had happened that he wanted to tell you. he’d begun associating particular songs with you because you’d insisted on adding them to his playlists weeks ago. you had somehow become woven into the fabric of his everyday life so gradually that he’d never noticed it happening. and now, suddenly, he noticed your absence everywhere. perhaps the cruelest part of all of this was that he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong.

you were still there. you still smiled at him. you still sat beside him every thursday afternoon. but somewhere between two tuesdays ago and now, he had lost something he couldn’t quite name. for someone who had spent his entire life preferring certainty, he had never felt more confused. he was beginning to realise that things were no longer good how they were, and they hadn’t been for a while.

there was something particularly embarrassing about realising you’d been wrong. not devastatingly wrong or life-altering or anything dramatic enough to warrant crying over to your friends at two in the morning. just quietly, painfully wrong in a way that made you wish you could go back and shake yourself from three weeks ago. you weren’t upset with jungwon, you couldn’t be. that would imply he’d done something wrong when, if anything, he’d been much kinder than he needed to be. looking back now, you weren’t entirely sure where your confidence had come from that afternoon. maybe the months of small moments, insignificant accumulating into something bigger in your mind. perhaps it had been everyone else’s comments beginning to blur the lines in your head. or perhaps it had simply been wishful thinking.

whatever it had been, it had been yours. not his. that was the important part. you had offered him an open door and he’d quietly, gently closed it. that was all there was to it. it should have been easy enough to move on from.

the embarrassing part was that you found yourself replaying months worth of memories and wondering how many of them you had gotten wrong. moments that had made your stomach twist pleasantly suddenly felt different when viewed from another perspective.

of course he remembered your coffee order, because jungwon remembered everyone’s. of course he walked you home whenever it got late, because he was simply thoughtful. of course he stayed a little longer whenever the two of you studied together because he enjoyed spending time with his friends.

you hated how quickly your own thoughts began correcting themselves now. there had been a time, not even a month ago, where those moments would have made your heart race for entirely different reasons. now, they simply made your cheeks warm with embarrassment, hot shame burning in your gut.

perhaps that was why you had unconsciously started pulling back. not because you were upset or angry or trying to punish him for anything, but because liking someone who didn’t like you back was difficult enough without making yourself feel disgustingly foolish every time you looked at them.

you still wanted to be his friend. more than that, really. you couldn’t imagine suddenly removing him from your life after everything the two of you had become over the last few months. jungwon had become one of your favourite parts of uni so gradually that you hadn’t noticed it happening until it already had. that hadn’t changed simply because he didn’t feel the same way. you still smiled whenever he sent you something funny. you still looked forward to your thursday afternoons together. you still thought he was one of the kindest people you’d ever met.

you simply couldn’t afford to like him quite so loudly anymore. it was wierd, the little things you stopped yourself from doing without ever consciously deciding to.

you stopped reaching for his sleeve whenever you wanted his attention. you stopped sending him photographs of random things throughout your day simply because they reminded you of him. you stopped sitting quite so close whenever the two of you studied together.

small things. almost insignificant things. except they weren’t insignificant to you. because each one had been an unconscious expression of your affection before you’d realised what it was. you had never meant for him to become so woven into your everyday life.

some days were easier than others. there were moments where you forgot entirely and everything felt comfortably familiar again. then there were moments where he laughed quietly at something you’d said or looked at you with that same soft expression he always wore around you and your heart would ache just a little before settling once more.

you wondered if that feeling would ever completely disappear. hopefully, eventually, it would. for now, though, you thought friendship was enough. it had always been enough before you’d become so greedy for more.

maybe that was why you felt guilty sometimes when jungwon looked slightly confused whenever you thanked him for something or didn’t immediately steal the pen he’d unconsciously left beside your notebook.

because none of this was his fault, he hadn’t changed. you had.

and if protecting your own feelings meant becoming slightly more careful around him for a little while, then you thought that was something you could live with.

jungwon couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so out of place.

looking back, he probably should have refused when heeseung asked him for what felt like the hundredth time if he wanted to tag along. in his defence, it had been a particularly long week and an even longer month. assignments had begun piling up again, he’d somehow managed to spill coffee over half of his notes two days ago, and, perhaps most embarrassingly of all, he’d spent the better part of three weeks pretending he wasn’t miserable whenever he noticed that things between you two had changed.

he was tired of moping around his apartment. riki had become particularly ruthless about pointing it out over the last fortnight and heeseung had long since given up pretending to be subtle whenever he brought your name into conversation.

apparently, staring sadly at your contact for twenty minutes before deciding against sending a message about a video he’d seen was gross and pathetic behaviour. at least according to riki. who was probably right as he knew a whole lot more about these things than jungwon.

despite that, jungwon had still voiced that riki’s assessment of his conduct was unnecessarily harsh. heeseung had wholly disagreed. which was how he’d somehow found himself accepting a drink from jake less than two minutes after arriving.

and then another. and then one he’d accepted entirely because he’d forgotten he’d already had two. he wasn’t drunk. he never really had been. well, at least, he didn’t think he was.

he was simply pleasantly warm and considerably more relaxed than usual, leaning against the kitchen counter while only half listening to whatever story sunghoon was currently telling him. the music was louder than anything he would ever willingly choose to listen to himself and there were significantly more people crammed into the house than he’d initially anticipated, but he was enjoying himself more than he’d expected. granted, he was doing his best to ignore the heavy smell of weed emanating off of jake.

he’d laughed more tonight than he usually did in an entire week. perhaps heeseung had been right after all.

“you should do this more often,” heeseung smiled, nudging his shoulder lightly as he handed him another drink.

jungwon looked down suspiciously at the cup before looking back at him.

“i’ve learnt enough from tonight to know that’s a terrible idea.”

heeseung laughed quietly.

“you’re surprisingly tolerable when you’re tipsy.”

“thank you.”

“that wasn’t entirely a compliment.”

before jungwon had the opportunity to respond, riki appeared between them carrying approximately four different bags of snacks tucked beneath one arm.

“he smiled at a stranger twenty minutes ago.”

jungwon frowned. “i was being polite.”

“you apologised when they walked into you.”

“…that’s also polite.” jungwon muttered back after a moment of hesitation.

“no,” riki laughed, “that’s just wierd.”

heeseung just smirked into his drink. there was something strangely amusing about watching jungwon slightly tipsy. he’d spent so much of uni worrying and overthinking and analysing every situation presented to him that removing even a small amount of that caution left behind him considerably softer than people expected. he laughed easier. smiled more readily. he allowed himself to simply exist amongst conversations rather than constantly listening from the outside of them.

he seemed lighter somehow. it really suited him.

“where’s y/n?” jungwon asked quietly before quickly taking another sip of his drink, pulling his cup up to his mouth with slightly shaky hands.

the three seconds of silence that followed were perhaps the most suspicious seconds of silence he’d ever experienced in his life.

slowly, against his better judgment, he looked up, only to be met with a slightly unsightly view of heeseung and riki garishly grinning at him, their eyes wide but gaze lacking the surprise that usually went hand in hand with this kind of exaggerated expression.

somewhere behind him, he was reasonably certain he could hear jake giggling, although, he could be mistaking it for a cough, courtesy of jake’s persistent tendency to inhale too quick.

“…what?” jungwon snapped, eyebrows furrowed.

“nothing,” riki replied immediately.

“you asked where she was before you’ve asked where literally anyone else is.”

“i asked where you were.”

“after i’d been standing beside you for twenty minutes.”

jungwon chose not to dignify that observation with a response. instead, he just looked towards heeseung expectantly.

“sunoo said she should be here soon.” heeseung said reassuringly, supportively placing his hand on jungwon’s shoulder. although, in hindsight, that may’ve just been to hinder his incessant swaying.

jungwon nodded absentmindedly before returning his attention towards the conversation around him. he didn’t think very much of it. after all, asking where you were wasn’t particularly unusual anymore. he was simply accustomed to knowing whether or not you’d be somewhere.

that was all.

at least, that’s what he’d spent the last three weeks desperately trying to convince himself. it was considerably easier to maintain that delusion when you weren’t standing in front of him.

he heard your laugh before he saw you. 

that wasn’t unusual either.

he thought he’d probably recognise your laugh anywhere now, which was perhaps a more embarrassing admission than he’d ever willingly make aloud. his head turned instinctively towards the front door before he’d consciously registered why and suddenly there you were, laughing quietly at something sunghoon had said as you slipped your coat from your shoulders.

you looked really pretty tonight. the thought came so quickly and naturally that it startled him slightly. you always looked pretty, obviously. he’d realised that a long time ago. he simply didn’t allow himself to think about it very often.

perhaps alcohol was significantly more dangerous than he’d initially given it credit for. he watched absentmindedly as you smiled brightly at everyone gathered in the room before your eyes eventually found his. the smile that appeared faltered slightly, but almost immediately afterwards became softer somehow.

“you’re here?” 

there was something oddly sweet about the genuine surprise in your expression.

“i’m beginning to regret it already,” he smiled quietly, suddenly all too aware of the heat on his cheeks and the smoky smell clinging to his hoodie.

you laughed softly at that before making your way towards him.

“that’s because you’ve only been here for an hour.”

he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d spent the last few days forcibly convincing himself things hadn’t changed all that much between the two of you.

they had. he’d known that. he simply hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed this. you still smiled at him exactly the same way you always had. you still laughed quietly whenever he made particularly terrible jokes. you still seemed happier somehow whenever the two of you were talking.

the difference was subtle enough that nobody except him would ever notice it. you didn’t touch his arm absentmindedly anymore when you laughed. you left slightly more space between the two of you than before. and perhaps most noticeably of all, you no longer looked at him first whenever something happened that you thought was funny.

they were impossibly small things. he noticed every single one of them anyway.

the rest of the evening passed comfortably enough. conversations blurred together as more people arrived and the music grew louder, everyone splitting themselves into smaller groups before eventually finding their way back together once more.

somewhere throughout all of that, jungwon had unconsciously begun following you around. it wasn’t intentional. at least, not consciously.

if you were in the kitchen, he somehow found himself there five minutes later. if you sat beside sunoo on the sofa, he’d absentmindedly occupy the empty space beside you without thinking very much about it.

he simply preferred being wherever you happened to be.

heeseung had noticed approximately thirty minutes after you’d arrived. riki had noticed considerably faster than that.

“oh my god.”

heeseung looked up from where he’d been talking to jake.

“what?”

riki gestured vaguely towards the living room where jungwon was currently laughing quietly at something you’d said.

“he’s literally following her.”

heeseung just shrugged noncommittally in reply, grin still pasted onto his face.

“no, hyung. look.” riki urged him, poking at his arm before pointing at you and jungwon.

there was something strangely amusing about watching jungwon tonight. he smiled more whenever he was speaking to you. his shoulders relaxed whenever you sat beside him. if somebody asked him a question whilst he was looking at you, there was an unusually chance he’d need it repeated.

he was completely hopeless. his tipsy state wasn’t helping matters, especially considering it was more or less his first time.

“that’s actually insane,” jake laughed quietly as he watched you fix the hood on jungwon’s hoodie where it had folded awkwardly against itself.

jungwon thanked you absentmindedly before immediately continuing whatever conversation he’d been having with you moments earlier. he hadn’t even seemed to notice he’d paused talking entirely whilst you’d fixed it, neck hot as you’d brushed it slightly with your fingers.

sunghoon laughed quietly beside him.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him look at another person that much.”

heeseung smiled into his drink.

“i’ve been saying this for months.”

riki looked genuinely offended.

“and nobody thought to tell him?”

“we have.”

“repeatedly.”

the younger boy’s expression somehow became even more scandalised.

“he’s more oblivious than she is.”

perhaps the most ridiculous part of all of this was that jungwon remained entirely unaware of every observation being made about him throughout the evening. he was too busy wondering whether you’d always looked quite so beautiful whenever you laughed.

he was beginning to suspect that perhaps you’d always looked exactly like this and he’d simply spent too much time pretending not to notice. for someone who had spent weeks mourning the small changes in your friendship, he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember why he’d ever thought things were better before.

it was approaching three in the morning by the time people began discussing leaving.

the house had quietened considerably over the last hour or so, conversations becoming softer as people sank further into sofas and armchairs, unwilling to brave the walk back home just yet. somebody had long since changed the music to something significantly quieter and there was something strangely comfortable about the aftermath of nights like these.

jungwon found that he didn’t mind this part nearly as much as he’d expected to.

he was pleasantly tipsy now, the warmth from the alcohol still lingering comfortably in his chest as he sat amongst conversations that seemed to weave together around him. for perhaps the first time since beginning uni, he wasn’t thinking quite so carefully about every little thing he said or did. he simply existed amongst it all.

more importantly, though, he’d spent most of the evening sitting beside you. 

it had been strangely easy to fall back into old habits tonight. somewhere between laughing quietly at your complaints about one of your assignments and listening to sunoo dramatically retell something that had happened earlier in the week, jungwon had almost forgotten that things had ever changed between the two of you at all.

almost.

because every so often, he’d catch himself waiting for you to unconsciously lean your shoulder against his before remembering that you didn’t really do that anymore. looking back, he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d become quite so selfish.

“you seem suspiciously happy tonight.”

jungwon glanced towards riki sitting opposite him before quietly rolling his eyes.

“i’m fine.” he replied, forcing back a pout.

“that’s somehow significantly more suspicious.”

heeseung laughed quietly from beside him before following riki’s gaze towards where you were sitting, your cheeks slightly pink from both the alcohol and your laughter as you listened to jake explain something particularly enthusiastically with his usual accompanying hand gestures.

“…oh,” riki deadpanned. “never mind.”

jungwon frowned slightly. “what does that mean?”

“nothing.”

it meant considerably more than absolutely nothing.

you looked so beautiful tonight. he thought perhaps indulging in so many drinks had simply removed whatever part of his brain usually stopped him from acknowledging thoughts like that because he’d lost count of how many times he’d found himself looking at you throughout the evening.

it wasn’t only physical attraction anymore either, although he’d long since realised he found you beautiful. it was smaller things than that. he liked the sound of your laugh when you were tired because it became slightly quieter than usual. he liked listening to you talk excitedly about things he knew absolutely nothing about simply because you always looked so happy when you did. he liked that you still became flustered whenever somebody complimented you despite spending your entire life being loved so easily by the people around you.

he liked who you were when you thought nobody was really paying attention. which never truly happened. people were just drawn to you in that way, himself included.

you caught him looking at you from across the room and smiled instinctively, lifting your hand slightly in a small wave before continuing your conversation. his expression softened almost immediately. heeseung watched the entire interaction over the rim of red plastic cup before looking towards riki.

“‘s painful to watch.” he whispered into riki’s ear.

eventually, conversations again turned towards leaving. sunoo had somehow managed to fall asleep against sunghoon’s shoulder almost twenty minutes earlier and jake had been unsuccessfully attempting to convince everyone to stay for another hour despite complaining about how tired he was himself.

jungwon had been helping clear empty glasses from the coffee table when he’d heard you shyly giggling beside him. he glanced towards you immediately.

“how much have you had to drink?”

you thought about it briefly before laughing again sheepishly.

“that’s probably not something i should have to think about.”

he just smiled quietly at that. you weren’t drunk, not really. simply pleasantly tipsy in much the same way he was. your movements were slightly slower than usual and your smile was somehow impossibly softer than it had been all evening.

still, it was enough for him to dislike the idea of you walking home by yourself.  you’d always gone out more than he had throughout uni. if he was being honest with himself, he had worried about you walking home late more times than he would ever willingly admit aloud. that wasn’t particularly new. what was new, however, was his willingness to actually voice it.

“i want to walk you home.”

the words came so naturally that he didn’t really think about them before saying them.

“you don’t have to.” you said, not bothering to stifle the way your jaw temporarily dropped open at his words.

“i know.” he whispered, turning quickly before you could see the further flush on his cheeks, half flustered, half guilty at the way you seemed so shocked by the simple words he usually just held back.

i know. you felt your heart ache slightly before reminding yourself that jungwon had always been thoughtful. he would have offered regardless. you smiled softly up at him.

“okay.”

the walk back was quieter than most. perhaps because the world always seemed gentler after midnight or perhaps because the alcohol had left both of you softer around the edges than usual. your fingers brushed accidentally once when the two of you reached for the sleeve of your jacket that had slipped from your shoulder and neither of you commented on it.

somehow, though, neither of you immediately pulled away either.

and for perhaps the first time in weeks, things didn’t feel quite so different between the two of you anymore. not yet, at least.

there was something comforting about walking through the city this late at night. the rush of the evening had long since disappeared, leaving behind little more than the occasional passing car and the sound of quiet conversation spilling from restaurants preparing to close for the evening. you’d always loved nights like this.

perhaps that was why you’d never minded when jungwon walked you home after studying ran particularly late or movie nights stretched far longer than anyone had originally intended. somewhere along the way, walking beside him had become one of the most familiar things in your life. you were very grateful for that.

the last few weeks had been easier than you’d expected them to be. difficult sometimes, certainly, but easier nonetheless. enough time had passed now that the burning humiliation had softened around the edges into something a little more manageable. jungwon was still one of your favourite people and, if you were being honest with yourself, you thought he probably always would be.

beside you, jungwon was unusually quiet. perhaps he was simply tired after an evening spent far more socialising than he usually subjected himself to. still, there was something different about him tonight. he’d spent almost the entire evening beside you. every time you’d looked around the room, he’d somehow found his way back to wherever you happened to be. even now, his hand brushed occasionally against yours as the two of you walked side by side down familiar streets.

it reminded you a little too much of before.

“thank you for walking me home.”

his eyebrows pulled together slightly at that.

“you don’t have to thank me every time.”

you smiled faintly. “it’s still polite.”

“you never used to.” he blurted out, voice dropping an octave. the words were quiet enough that you almost missed them.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. there were some conversations that seemed easier to avoid than begin. you looked down at the pavement briefly before laughing quietly to yourself. “i’m trying to be better.”

“i don’t think you… needed improving.” he slurred his words a little at the edges.

you hated how easily he could still make your heart ache sometimes. the thing about jungwon was that he had always said the kindest things when he wasn’t thinking about them first. before you had the opportunity to reply, he spoke again.

“i’m sorry.”

you frowned slightly as you looked towards him.

“for what?”

he was quiet for longer than usual this time, his attention fixed somewhere ahead of the two of you. he’d spent the last few weeks thinking about very little else besides what he’d said to you that afternoon and every moment that had followed afterwards. he missed things he hadn’t even realised he would notice before they disappeared. he missed you in ways that felt increasingly impossible to ignore despite the fact that you’d never actually gone anywhere.

it had become difficult pretending that nothing had changed when he thought about you constantly. he was tired of pretending.

“everything.”

your expression softened immediately.

“jungwon…”

“i’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

you laughed quietly. only then did he notice the deep shame behind your eyes before you lowered your head. “that doesn’t surprise me very much.” you mumbled.

that earned a small smile from him before it disappeared just as quickly.

“i lied.”

you felt yourself pause slightly beside him.

“about what?”

his laugh, usually filled with affection, sounded soft and self-deprecating somehow.

“things being good how they were.”

you froze, gaze still locked onto the floor. suddenly, the walk home didn’t feel so quiet anymore.

“i thought they should be,” he admitted quietly. “i thought if i ignored it for long enough it would just…” he trailed off before shaking his head slightly. “i don’t know.”

there was something almost unfair about hearing him say the things you’d spent weeks trying to convince yourself you’d imagined. you let him continue, feeling a prickling in the corner of your eyes.

“i miss you.”

the confession was so quiet that it almost disappeared amongst the sounds of the city around the two of you.

“i’m right here,” you muttered, watery smile still pasted onto your face for as long as you could muster.

“that’s not what i mean.” he cleared his throat, steely gaze locked onto you.

your heart was beating far too quickly now. so much so that it felt like it’d pop out of your throat.

“then what do you mean?”

he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d become brave enough to say these things. maybe the everflowing drinks had simply quietened the part of him that usually overthought every feeling before allowing himself to voice it. or perhaps he was simply tired of slowly losing the bits of you he liked so much.

“i miss the way things were before that day in the coffee shop,” he admitted honestly. “i miss you texting me about things that don’t matter and sitting too close to me whenever we study and stealing my pens even though we both know you’ve amassed such a collection that you could probably make good money selling them.” he babbled out, suddenly feeling like he was speaking at the speed of light.

your eyes softened almost immediately.

“jungwon…”

“and i know i don’t really get to miss those things because this was my fault.”

a long pause. you didn’t want to fill the silence.

“heeseung says i’ve been insufferable for like… three weeks.”

that startled a giggle from you despite yourself.

“only three?”

“apparently riki thinks that’s generous.”

the two of you smiled at each other softly before the moment settled into something quieter once more.

“i was really scared,” he admitted finally. “and i think i still am.”

you waited patiently for him to continue.

“but i’ve realised i’m… significantly more scared of things staying like this.”

the honesty in his voice stole whatever response you’d been preparing.

slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers slipping carefully between yours as though he was still giving you the opportunity to pull away if you wanted to.

you didn’t.

“i like you,” he smiled quietly. “which is unfortunate because i’m beginning to think i’ve liked you for a really long time.”

“that is unfortunate.” you whispered, unable to hold back your pout now.

there had never really been anyone else who made him feel the way you did. not in the way you had slowly become part of his everyday life without either of you noticing. not in the way he searched for you the moment he walked into a room, or how easily his mood changed simply because you were there. not in the way he had spent weeks feeling the absence of things he hadn’t realised he depended on until they were gone.

and now, standing in front of you, he finally understood just how much he had been avoiding. the moment he finished speaking, there was a quietness between you that felt different from all the others you’d shared before.

then your eyes filled.

jungwon froze.

the guilt hit him almost immediately. he hadn’t expected that. he’d imagined this moment so many times over the last few weeks, but somehow he’d never considered that you might cry. not because he thought you wouldn’t care, but because he hadn’t realised just how much his hesitation had hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered.

his hand lifted almost without thinking, fingers brushing gently against your cheek as he wiped away the tear before it could fall any further. the familiar gesture felt strangely unfamiliar now, like he was finally allowing himself to do all the things he had spent months stopping himself from doing.

“jungwon,” you murmured, shaking your head slightly.

you weren’t upset with him. that was the worst part. even now, even after he had made you feel like you had imagined everything between you, you were still looking at him like you were worried about him feeling guilty.

because that was who you were. and maybe that was the exact reason he had fallen for you without noticing. you had always been patient with him. you had always made space for him. you had always understood the things he struggled to say. and he had spent weeks convincing himself that keeping things the same was safer, when losing the little pieces of you that had become so important had been far worse. the small smile you gave him was enough to ease some of the tension in his expression.

“you’re so unbelievable,” you whispered, voice still slightly unsteady.

he let out a quiet laugh, relieved despite himself.

“i know.”

and somehow, that was enough.

enough for you to stop worrying about whether you were misunderstanding him. enough for him to stop wondering whether he had ruined everything. because for the first time in weeks, neither of you were holding back.

the hands resting on your shoulders crept up to hold your face again, brushing away another stray tear as jungwon motioned to tilt your head up a little further, his reassuring gaze meeting yours again. he cautiously brought this thumb around to brush over your lip, searching your eyes for any unwillingness. he took note of the way your face fit perfectly in his grasp before leaning in, lips finally meeting yours.

the kiss was hesitant at first, almost like both of you were waiting to make sure this was real. but when you leaned into him, when you didn’t pull away, the uncertainty slowly disappeared. he took your bottom lip into his mouth as you somehow reached between the little space between you two to wrap your arms around his head, fingers resting at the nape of his neck, softly carding through the dark hair at the bottom.  

to your dismay, the tears you had tried to hold back slipped free anyway, caught between relief and the overwhelming feeling of finally getting what you had spent so long trying not to want.

jungwon noticed immediately. of course he did.

he pulled back, despite your unintentional and somewhat embarrassing whine at the loss of his soft lips against yours. his hand stayed against your cheek, thumb brushing gently beneath your eye as his expression softened with that same guilt from before.

but before he could apologise again, before he could turn this moment into another thing he needed to fix, you kissed him again. softer this time, a quiet reassurance. the way you pressed against him serving as a reminder that he didn’t have to keep apologising for caring about you.

and maybe that was what finally made him let himself believe it, that this wasn’t something he had accidentally ruined. this was something you both wanted. and he’d no longer be living on the edge of your life anymore. he’d make it his mission to get closer and closer to the centre everyday.

[yeonjunsggum]

all of the fics below contain smut .ᐟ

recommendations for enhypen, &team, txt, and seventeen

⋆.˚ ENHYPEN

heeseung

ꕀ make you mine by @intromortal ⋮ wc 1.8k ♯ smut, jealous!heeseung, toxic situationship, jealous sex

ꕀ was it casual? by @mssishipi ⋮ wc 12.3k ♯ angst, smut, fubu, heeseung is lowk an asshole, ft sunoo, shower sex, love some angst

ꕀ player rank: platinum by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 30k ♯ smut, sister's boyfriend trope, simp gamer!heeseung, cheating/infidelity, gobsmacked after reading this one

ꕀ color coded by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 8.7k ♯ smut, dom!heeseung, open minded sub!reader, reader has an explorative nature/curious, the ending lowk made me kick my feet

ꕀ making progress by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 28.7k ♯ college au, smut, slight angst, nerd!heeseung/pathetic!heeseung, he's an inexperienced sweetheart, this was cute

jay

ꕀ happy hotwifing by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 18.9k ♯ smut, husband jongseong x afab reader x voyeur sunghoon, threesome, look at the tags yourself i just.. leave me alone. this is the best jay fic to me

ꕀ take the backseat by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 8.5k ♯ smut, ft jake, exhibitionist!jay, voyeur!jake, afab reader, eventual threesome in part 2, how do i tattoo a fic into my brain

ꕀ friends to worry about by @intromortal ⋮ wc 7.3k ♯ smut, cheating, everyone is lowk shitty, bf's besties!jayhoon x reader, lil bit of mxm, just read it ok

ꕀ his obsession by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 7k ♯ college au, smut, fluff, jay’s obsessed with the reader, brat tamer!jay (we all cheered), undercover freak!reader, loved this

ꕀ sweet desire by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 5.7k ♯ smut, slight angst, jay and reader are obsessed with each other, pwp, i love jay fics

ꕀ dad and dollars by @prkhaven ⋮ wc 12.9k ♯ smut, dilf au, slight age gap, dad!jay x money struggling fem!reader, pwp, just yes

ꕀ midnight came twice by @nephynes ⋮ wc 7k ♯ smut, ft sunghoon, fubu with both sunghoon and jay, threesome, meandom!hoon, softdom!jay, angst if you squint

ꕀ mr & mrs smith by @swiftjay23 ⋮ wc 35k ♯ smut, marriage-on-the-rocks, morally gray romance, slow-burn, assassin spy husband!Jay x assassin spy wife!reader, husband jay fics ugh

jake

ꕀ serial-sweetheart by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 23.6k ♯ smut, cheating/infedelity that doesn't get exposed, boyfriend sunghoon, perverted/shy college boy jake, jake is a couple of years younger, sunghoon and jake are brothers, needy jake, dom-ish sunghoon, switch reader, jaw-droppingly good

ꕀ liquid sweetner by @intromortal ⋮ wc 5.2k ♯ smut, established relationship, downbad!jake, sick!reader, sweetie jake taking care of his girl basically

ꕀ ping! we should fuck by @jaylaxies ⋮ wc approx 6.5k ♯ smut, fwb, unprotected sex, fluff, angst

ꕀ what is it, to be liked? by @dollhoonki ⋮ wc 12.6k ♯ smut, dom!jake (condenscending), sub!reader, established relationship, satisfying ending to a trip to the mountains after encountering a fortune teller

ꕀ into it? by @minhosimthings ⋮ wc 24.8k ♯ smut, ft euijoo from andteam (foaming at the mouth), dom!jake, dom!ej, threesome, fratboys kinda, obsessed obsessed obsessed

ꕀ crazy, stupid, love by @swiftjay23 ⋮ wc 31.6k ♯ romcom au, friends with benefits, smut, angst, fluff, fwb to lovers, mutual pining, emotional slow burn, happy ending, playboy!jake x fratgirl!reader

sunghoon

ꕀ first date etiquette by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 9.3k ♯ smut, strangers to fucking almost immediately, brat tamer!sunghoon (somebody sedate me), sneaky sex, cocky sunghoon, flirting/bullying banter, both are competitive, im so unwell

ꕀ 1-800-HOON by @prkhaven ⋮ wc 10.8k ♯ smut, brat tamer au, pwp if you squint really hard, jay is reader’s rich bf and sunghoon’s best friend, mean hard dom brat tamer!sunghoon, hung!hoon agenda, i'd get banned if i said all i wanted to about this one so im just gonna say its nice!

ꕀ inch by inch by @intromortal ⋮ wc 23.6k ♯ smut, f!reader x park sunghoon, besties!jaykewon, essentially just smut, hung hung hung sunghoon, brat tamer!sunghoon, theres a part 2 as well, everyone is sick of hearing me talk about this one idc i need to be put tf down

ꕀ that's right, he can't by @jaylaxies ⋮ wc 3.6k ♯ smut, dom!heeseung x switch!fem!reader x switch!sunghoon, jealousy, revenge sex, needy reader, heeseung is lowk an asshole

ꕀ birthday boy by @intromortal ⋮ wc 4.5k ♯ smut, "sunghoon's first birthday after you started dating comes around, and you two make the most of the night when a snow storm delays plans." honestly just rlly sweet

trust there is way more sunghoon ones, i just have to hunt for them in my notes somewhere :3

sunoo

ꕀ one of the girls by @mssishipi ⋮ wc 45.5k ♯ slowburn, one sided enemies to fubu to lovers, second chances, queer coded relationship dynamics, queer!sunoo x queer! reader, pwp, hung sunoo, dom!sunoo, this is THE sunoo fic. you can't change my mind.

ꕀ 06. viewer submission challenge by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, public sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), sunoo x reader

ꕀ all the right numbers by @nephynes ⋮ wc 15k ♯ smut, college au, fratboy! sunoo, casual sex, slice of life, romance, slowburn

ꕀ sweeter than revenge by @hoonstrology ⋮ wc 11.1k ♯ best friends to lovers. fluff. romance. yearner!sunoo & whipped!sunoo. slight angst. jealousy, condescending–dom!sunoo & sub!reader. sunoo switches between soft!dom and mean!dom (put me down) hung!sunoo agenda, like just love a good sunoo fic fr

there's a severe drought of good sunoo fics here :(

jungwon

ꕀ all the right parts by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 6k ♯ smut, teasing, car sex (on top of it), freak mechanic!won (feral), mean dom!won, freakwon agenda, reader's a spoiled brat who needs to be put in her place, and jungwon's willing to, just read it omg

ꕀ 0.7 first timer by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, masturbation, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex etc, jungwon x reader, this entire series is 10/10

riki

ꕀ 0.8 watch me by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, unprotected sex, grinding, praise kink, teasing, handcuffs, nishimura riki x fem reader

i realised i don't have any riki ones besides this one..

ꕀ ⋮ ♯ more to be added...

[ikeuzito]

SUGARCOATED

(박종성) ✶ fem!reader

synopsis: you're moving into your college apartment when a handsome guy helps you with your heavy boxes on the stairs. He turns out to be Jay, your older neighbor — a lawyer who quickly becomes part of your new life. He listens to you ramble for hours but never offers much about himself, and you tell yourself it's fine, that everyone has boundaries. Being with him feels too right to question, so you let yourself fall anyway, completely lost in him and blind to what's right in front of you until it's too late.

includes: student!reader x lawyer!jay, age gap (not specified), neighbors to lovers (?), lots of domestic fluff mixed with rough sex, slow-burn buildup before the smut, explicit sexual content (mdni), big dick jay, size kink (emphasis on thickness, length, belly bulge, stretching, etc.), cockwarning, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, praise kink, multiple orgasms, spitting in mouth, overstimulation, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, riding, missionary, spooning sex, car sex, doggy, spanking (punishment), manhandling, dirty talk, nipple play, soft dom!jay, brief mean dom jay, aftercare, pet names (princess & baby).

wc: 19.2k ─ a/n: ngl i'm so insecure about this... it took me forever to finish because i was running out of creativity and kept giving up, but i finally did it! really hope you guys like it anyways. i'd really appreciate any feedback! happy reading <33

comment here to join the tag list! .𝜗𝜚 ݁˖

You have been waiting for this moment for months, even years. You are finally moving out. It is because of college, but still, it is a new beginning far from home — a brand-new chapter in your own space. A mix of excitement and nervousness settles in your chest, because living alone requires a lot of responsibility, and you are not sure if you are ready to handle it all.

For the past five minutes, you have been staring at the mountain of boxes crammed into the trunk and backseat of your car like a game of Tetris. You are wondering how you are going to carry so many boxes up to the third floor where your apartment is. With a deep breath, you finally grab one of the boxes, and immediately stagger under its weight.

"Maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience" reads the sign taped to the elevator doors.

Drops of sweat form on your temples, down the back of your neck, and pool on your spine, making your shirt stick to your skin. Of course it would be hot as hell on the day of your move, and of course the elevator wouldn't be working — talk about lucky.

You take another deep breath, hug the box against your chest, and begin climbing the stairs slowly, careful not to lose your balance.

Your arms are trembling and your breathing is almost as heavy as the box by the time you finally reach the first floor, forcing you to set it down for a moment to rest. But just as you pick it up again, mentally preparing for the next flight of stairs, the sound of footsteps coming down from above catches you off guard.

A man is coming down the stairs. He’s tall, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. His jaw is sharp — probably sharper than any knife you’ve ever seen. He looks so put-together that you suddenly feel embarrassed by your sweaty face and disheveled state.

Seeing you, he stops immediately, his eyebrows furrowing with mild concern. "Whoa. Let me help you with that." His voice is low and smooth, the kind of voice that sends a shiver down your spine before you can stop it.

You blush, heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. "Oh, you don’t have to. I can manage—"

"I insist," he replies gently, waiting with his hands hovering, giving you the choice. You let him take the box, and the relief is immediate — your arms practically sing in gratitude. He lifts it as if it weighs nothing, cradling it against his chest with just one arm — the same box you were struggling to carry with both. "I’m Jay, by the way."

You quickly wipe the sweat from your forehead and try to fix your hair because you want to look at least a little presentable for the incredibly good-looking man helping you. "Thank you so much. I’m y/n. I’m moving in today, to apartment 3B."

Jay’s expression softens, and a warm smile spreads across his face. "3B? That’s interesting. I live right next door, in 3A." He nods toward the stairs. "Looks like we’re neighbors." He gestures ahead. "After you."

You both climb the remaining stairs together and your heart still pounding. You can’t tell if it’s from the physical effort earlier or from his company. Because of the nerves, the words start tumbling out before you can stop them.

"I’m starting college this week. I got accepted and everything, and I was so excited when I found this apartment. It’s the first time I’ve ever lived away from home, so I’m really thrilled… but also kind of terrified? Like, what if I get lost on campus? What if my classes are way harder than I expected? I brought way too much stuff, I’m kind of attached to my things, you know?" You let out a breathless laugh. "Sorry, I’m probably talking too much. I get really chatty when I’m nervous."

Jay glances at you as you walk, the box still balanced effortlessly in his arms. He doesn’t look annoyed — in fact, he seems amused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You’re not talking too much. It’s a big change, but you’re doing great."

You bite your lower lip, watching him as you climb. There is something intriguing about him that sparks your curiosity. "And you? Are you a student too, or…?"

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, I’ve already graduated. I work at a company downtown." He says it casually, offering no further details — which only makes you even more curious.

You reach the landing of the second floor and have to stop to catch your breath, while Jay doesn’t even seem slightly winded — it’s honestly impressive. "My parents helped me pack my bags, but they’re hours away now. It’s exciting, though. New city, new people. I just hope I don’t ruin everything."

"You won’t," Jay says gently. "Everyone feels like that at the beginning. The nervousness is normal. Besides, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. You’ll find your rhythm." He sets the box down carefully in front of your door. "Ready for another round?"

The words hit you like a spark. "Ready for another round." And before you can help it, your mind immediately drifts, imagining Jay on top of you, his strong body pressing you into the mattress, that same low voice murmuring the question against your neck while his hands pinned your wrists above your head. Heat flooded your face and settled lower in your belly.

You quickly shake your head, trying to push the thought away, desperately hoping your blush isn't too obvious. "Yes, let's do it."

He carries the rest of the boxes for you, going up and down the stairs multiple times. Meanwhile, you keep rambling nonstop about what you are studying, where you are from, and how you are feeling about this new phase of your life. He listens as if he genuinely cares, and even though you can’t quite place the age difference between you two, you feel surprisingly comfortable with him.

When the last box finally makes it through the door, you stand in the hallway with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Jay. Honestly. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

"Glad I could help. Moving is a big step. If you need anything else, I’m right next door." With that, he returns to his own apartment, leaving you surrounded by a sea of boxes that will clearly take hours to unpack.

A few days pass. You unpack — not everything, just the most important things. Your first classes are overwhelming. You get lost twice, accidentally walk into the wrong lecture hall, and sit through an entire lecture on quantum physics before realizing your mistake. But as embarrassing as it was, that mistake ended up leading you to a guy named Jake, who turned out to be incredibly nice and cute.

Now you are standing outside Jay’s door with a plate of cupcakes in your hands, ready to properly thank him for helping you with the move. The thing is, you can’t really bake; you tried making the cupcakes yourself but ended up burning the batch, so you had to go to the bakery on the corner to buy a box of them instead. They look a bit too professional, but since he doesn't know about your complete lack of kitchen skills, you're confident he won't suspect a thing — especially since you took them out of the box and arranged them nicely on a plate just to be extra safe.

You knock on his door, your heart pounding hard in your chest. He opens it a moment later, and his face lights up when he sees you. "Hey, neighbor," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "How are classes going?"

"Good," you reply, pushing the plate forward with a little too much force. "Great, actually. I only got lost twice today, which is an improvement." Your smile widens. "I brought these for you. For helping me with the move. I made them myself."

He looks at the cupcakes, then back at you, this time raising an eyebrow. "You made these?"

"Yes," you say, nodding firmly with your chin held high, trying to look confident. "From scratch. All by myself. I’m pretty good at baking."

He picks up one of the cupcakes and examines it, narrowing his eyes as he brings it closer to his face. You feel your determination starting to crumble.

"Really?" he asks with a smile, clearly testing how long you will keep up the lie. "From scratch?"

You hold his gaze for three whole seconds before you look away in embarrassment. Your shoulders drop and your face turns as red as a tomato. "Okay, fine. I bought them at the bakery on the corner. I took them out of the box so you would think I’m a functional adult who knows how to bake." You laugh at yourself. "I tried making them the other day, Jay. I set off the smoke alarm. I’m a danger to this entire building."

He throws his head back and laughs — not mocking you, but with a genuine, warm laugh that makes you feel less embarrassed about pretending you had baked the cupcakes. "Oh my God, you actually burned them?"

"I once burned noodles. I’m a total disaster in the kitchen."

He steps aside, still smiling, and gestures for you to come in. "Alright, come in. I’ll split one of these ‘homemade’ cupcakes with you. It’s the least I can do for someone who put so much effort into the task."

Your mom’s voice whispers in the back of your mind: "Don’t talk to strangers and definitely don’t go into their apartments, sweetheart." But is he really a stranger? He is your neighbor who carried all your boxes without complaining, and the way he stands there holding the plate of cupcakes with that smile makes you not hesitate at all.

You follow him inside. He leads you to the kitchen, grabs two small plates, and carefully unwraps a vanilla cupcake, splitting it in half before sliding one piece toward you.

"Have a seat," he says, pointing to the stool by the kitchen island.

"So, you mentioned you work downtown? What exactly do you do?" you ask as you sit down.

"I’m a lawyer," he replies, taking a bite of his half and nodding in approval. "Good choice of bakery, by the way."

You laugh, biting into yours. "A lawyer. That makes a lot of sense. You have this… I don’t know how to say it without sounding weird, but you have this organized vibe. Like you’re really good at arguing without even raising your voice."

His smile widens. "People have definitely told me that before that I have a ‘courtroom voice.’ It’s just my normal voice, only lower and slower. People tend to listen when you don’t yell."

"You’ll have to show me someday. If I ever get in legal trouble, I’ll know exactly who to call."

"Please don’t get in legal trouble. But if you do, I’m your guy."

The conversation flows just as easily as it did on moving day, and before you know it, you’re venting about your annoying professor, how massive the campus is, and all the times you’ve already managed to get lost. Between all the talking, the cupcakes completely disappear, leaving the coffee he made to sit cold and barely touched in your mug. There’s just something about him that instantly puts you at ease.

Despite the age gap, he never talks down to you or makes you feel small, which makes talking to him completely effortless. It’s just so comforting to have someone around who listens to you with that much care and attention — especially when he happens to be incredibly good-looking, leaving you totally hooked since the very first day.

As he walks you to the door when you finally get up to leave, he snatches a pen and a post-it note to scribble something down. Before you know it, he’s pressing the paper into your palm, his fingers brushing lightly against yours and sending a sudden warmth to your cheeks as he says, "Here’s my number, in case you ever need anything."

"Thank you," you say, smiling a little too wide.

He nods. "Anytime. Seriously. Don’t be a stranger."

────────

The grocery bags dig painfully into your fingers as you stand in the lobby, staring at the elevator doors that are still under maintenance. You look at them as if a miracle might happen — maybe if you stare for one more second, God will take pity and finally fix it. Nothing happens, of course, which makes you let out a long sigh of frustration. It has been days since you moved in and the elevator is still not working.

Your arms already hurt from carrying way too many bags. You definitely should have made two trips, but stubbornness won.

Reaching the second floor is pure torture; your arms are burning, those plastic handles are digging right into your palms, and the bags keep swinging awkwardly against your legs. Trying to stop and adjust your grip only makes things worse, to the point where you're seriously considering just sitting right there on the stairs and crying.

You finally collapse against the wall at the third-floor landing, letting the bags slide to the floor just to catch your breath. Right then, the door to 3A clicks open and Jay steps out — perfectly dressed for work with that annoyingly handsome lawyer look that instantly makes your stomach do a little flip.

He sees you immediately. For a second, his eyes take in the whole scene — your flushed face, the many overloaded bags, and the way you are leaning against the wall breathing heavily. A light, amused laugh escapes him. It is not mocking, just genuinely entertained, as if he expected nothing less from you.

"Carrying heavy stuff again?" he asks, walking toward you. "You really don’t learn, do you?"

Before you can even open your mouth to protest, he is already reaching for the bags, picking them all up at once as if they weigh absolutely nothing. His strong arms support the weight so effortlessly that his biceps press against the fabric of his dress shirt, making it completely impossible for you not to stare.

He turns and walks toward your door, carrying everything like it is nothing.

At your doorstep, Jay sets all the bags down carefully against the wall and turns to face you. His expression is calm, almost unreadable, but there is something more in it. You understand it the moment he starts speaking in a gently scolding tone. "You really shouldn’t carry so much at once," he says, crossing his arms. "It’s not safe and it’s clearly too heavy for you. Make two or three trips next time. Look at your hands, they’re all red. You were hurting yourself. Why? Because you’re way too stubborn, huh?"

You glance down at your palms, and they are red where the plastic handles dug in. "I was fine," you say, though even you do not believe it. "I almost made it."

"Don’t be stubborn."

"You sound exactly like my dad," you reply, crossing your arms to mimic him. "He’s always telling me I’m too stubborn for my own good."

Jay’s lips curve into a small smile. "Because you really are," he says with so much certainty that you cannot even argue back. "I’m serious. Next time, make multiple trips or just text me. I’d rather help than watch you struggle like that."

There is a protective tone in his voice that makes your cheeks warm with a mix of embarrassment and something else stirring low in your stomach. He is lecturing you like a child, but somehow it sounds kind of hot coming from him.

Then he glances at the grocery bags again. Now that the scolding is over, he seems to actually pay attention to what is inside them. He picks one up and looks inside — it is full of frozen meals, instant noodles, ultra-processed food, and canned goods. "Look, I know you’re in college now, but that doesn’t mean you have to live on processed food. It’s quick, sure, but you need real fresh stuff, not just things that come out of a can. Eating like this long-term isn’t good for you. You could get sick."

You blink, caught off guard by the extra lecture. He is fully in dad-mode now, and there is something strangely attractive about how seriously he takes it, like he is genuinely worried about you. "Okay, okay. I get it… I already told you I’m a disaster in the kitchen, so I just grabbed whatever is easiest so I don’t starve."

Jay’s expression softens a little. "I’m not trying to scold you. I just know how easy it is to fall into bad habits when you’re living on your own for the first time." He pauses and adds in a gentler voice, "If you ever need help in the kitchen, you know where to find me. I’m not exactly a chef, but I know how to make real meals."

Your mind wanders again because you can’t help it — you picture him in your kitchen, standing right behind you while teaching you how to cook, his hands guiding yours, the warmth of his body against your back…

"I’ll try to do better, I swear. Thanks for helping again. I think I owe you something now. How about brownies as a thank you this time?"

Jay shakes his head, chuckling softly. "You don’t owe me anything. Just be more careful next time." He glances at the heavy bags one more time. "Need help carrying these inside?"

You shake your head quickly. "I can handle it from here. I bet you’re busy, you look like you’re heading to work."

He checks the watch on his wrist. "Yeah, I have a meeting soon, but the offer stands anytime." Before turning to leave, he gives you one last firm look. "Take care of yourself."

After he leaves, you drag the bags inside, one half first and then the other, just like Jay suggested.

That night, you are sprawled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you open your contacts. You saved Jay’s number, of course, but you have been telling yourself you don’t need to text him. It is an emergency-only number, but then you think about him carrying your groceries, the effortless way he took them from you, and the gentle scolding in his voice. Before you can overthink it, you are already typing a message to him.

────────

It is already past midnight and you have been staring at the same page of your textbook long enough for your vision to blur. Your brain has officially given up — it is impossible to absorb a single word more after hours of studying.

You are about to slam the book shut to take out your stress on it and drag yourself to bed when a soft knock sounds at the door. Your heart jumps slightly because you were not expecting anyone, especially not at this hour.

Another knock.

You get up slowly, stretching your sore muscles, and walk to the door. When you open it, Jay is standing there, looking different tonight without his formal work clothes and lawyer posture. He is wearing a simple white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and is barefoot. He looks relaxed, holding a bottle of red wine — as if he made the sudden decision to knock on your door and came straight over without even putting shoes on.

"Hey," he says, his low voice making your stomach flip. His eyes scan over you, taking in your tired face, messy hair, and pajamas. Something in his expression softens.

"Hey," you reply softly, matching his tone.

"Hey," he repeats, then laughs when he realizes what he just did.

"Hey," you answer again, this time with a small smile. "You already said that."

"I know." He laughs again, shaking his head. "I just… it’s late."

"Very late."

"I know." He lifts the bottle slightly. "I bought this earlier today but… it’s no fun drinking alone."

You look at the wine, then back at him. The way he is standing there — messy hair, ridiculously handsome, and a little too soft — makes going back to bed suddenly seem like a very stupid choice. "Are you inviting me to drink with you?"

"I’m asking if you want to take a break. From everything."

The way he looks at you with those inviting eyes makes the decision easy, but you decide to tease him first. "I don’t usually drink with strangers."

"We’re not strangers," he says, his voice soft. Your teasing does not seem to faze him.

"We’re not exactly friends either," you reply, tilting your head and studying his reaction.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, almost lazy smile. "Then let’s change that."

You pretend to consider it for a moment, even though you were already fully committed the second you saw him at your door. "Mmm, okay. But let’s do it at your apartment. Mine is a mess."

His smile widens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Alright, whatever you want."

You grab your keys and follow him, also barefoot, to the door next to yours. His apartment is clean and organized as always, which makes the space feel strangely comforting. In the kitchen, he pours two glasses of wine and hands you one, his fingers brushing against yours for half a second and sending a spark through your body.

"Cheers," he says, raising his glass.

"Cheers," you repeat, gently clinking your glass against his.

You take a sip and let out a small, involuntary hum of appreciation — it is much better than you expected, probably the most expensive wine you have ever tasted. He gestures toward the living room. "Come on, let’s sit," he says, leading the way to the couch. You follow and settle onto his couch, trying to look more relaxed than you actually feel.

"This is nice," you say, taking another sip.

He sits on the other end of the couch — close enough to talk comfortably, but far enough to be polite. "It’s just wine." He takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his glass.

"I mean relaxing… not thinking about classes for the first time."

He nods, understanding. "You think about classes a lot."

"It’s pretty much my entire life right now," you admit with an awkward little laugh, taking another sip.

"I remember going through that too. Everything revolving around exams, assignments, and exhausting responsibilities."

You tilt your head, studying him. "You make it sound like ancient history."

"Sometimes it feels like it." He takes a sip, not breaking eye contact. "I still remember when I was in college. I used to think a bad grade would ruin everything." A dry laugh escapes him as he shakes his head. "There’s so much pressure."

Suddenly you find yourself wanting to know more about him, drawn by the experienced tone in his voice and posture. The wine is already loosening your tongue, so you ask. "How old are you, anyway?"

A small, playful smile appears on his lips. "I’m old enough."

You narrow your eyes, trying to hold back a smile. "That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one you’re getting." He takes another sip.

"That’s annoying," you say, leaning forward slightly and resting your elbows on your knees.

"Maybe I am annoying." He shrugs, but there is a sparkle in his eyes that tells you he is enjoying this.

"You’re avoiding the question," you accuse, pointing a finger at him.

"I’m protecting my privacy."

"From what? Your neighbor?" You laugh, raising an eyebrow.

"Especially from my neighbor."

You pout, pretending to be hurt. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

"Everyone has secrets," he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone.

"I don’t." You are not even sure why you say it. Maybe it is the wine, or the way he is looking at you right now.

"Everyone does." He holds his ground. "You have secrets too."

Your pulse quickens. "I don’t."

"Yes, you do."

You swallow hard. The air between you feels thicker now, charged with something you can’t quite name. You shift slightly on the sofa and notice how easy it would be to reach out and touch him. "So you have a lot of secrets, huh?" you ask, curious.

"Yes. Quite a few."

"Like what?" you press, wanting to see what he will give you.

"If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore." His lips curve into a slow, almost predatory smile.

"Touché." You raise your glass in an ironic toast, making him laugh.

A comfortable but heavy silence settles between you for a moment, thick with tension as you exchange glances and take slow sips. The wine is definitely doing its job — making your words come out slower, your laughter easier, and your body warmer.

"How old are you?" he asks, breaking the silence.

You blink, caught off guard. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You asked me, so I’m asking you back."

You smile, deciding to play his game. "I’m old enough."

A low, surprised laugh escapes him — rich and genuine. "That’s my line."

"I know." You take another sip to hide your smile.

"You stole my line."

You just shrug. "I borrowed it."

"That’s not how borrowing works."

"Yes, it is."

He laughs again. "You’re impossible."

"Am I? What else?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

"You’re something," he says, his voice dropping again.

"What?" You are not sure what he means by that.

"I don’t know yet." He keeps his eyes fixed on you. "But I’m figuring it out."

You feel your cheeks heat up and take another sip of wine to try to hide your reaction. Jay, however, keeps watching you, and you can tell he noticed.

"You know what I’ve noticed?" By now your voice is a little slurred, so you have to be careful with the words that come out of your mouth.

"What?" His wine glass is almost empty. He sets it on the coffee table and turns all of his attention to you.

You lean back on the couch, turning to face him more directly. Your knee brushes against his thigh, but neither of you pulls away. "You don’t talk much about yourself."

He tilts his head, frowning slightly. "Don’t I?"

"No. You listen, but you don’t share. Like, you’re dodging right now. You give answers, but you don’t really answer."

"Well, I’m trying to protect myself," he says simply.

"Protect yourself from what?" You lean forward, genuinely curious now.

"From getting too attached." The words are honest, and you definitely were not expecting them.

You stare at him, your hand frozen halfway to taking another sip. "From what?"

"To you." His voice is almost a whisper, making your pulse race and your skin flush.

"Why would you get too attached to me?"

He stays silent for a moment, his eyes tracing over you as if he wants to memorize every detail. "Because it’s easy to get attached to you."

"No, it's not," you say, shaking your head as a small, incredulous laugh escapes you.

"It is." His voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. "You just don’t see it."

You look away, feeling your entire body grow warmer. "You’re dodging again."

"I’m being honest." He leans forward slightly, and you can smell him now — a masculine scent mixed with the light sweetness of the wine.

You set your glass on the coffee table and turn to face him completely, the wine making you bolder. "You’re giving me half-answers. You’re telling me just enough to make me curious, but not enough."

He stays quiet for a moment, thinking. "What do you want to know?"

You hold his gaze. "Something real. Truly honest."

Silence stretches between you, thick with something heavy and suffocating that you can't quite name. Then he whispers, "I think you’re beautiful."

Your breath catches, and for a second you are not sure you heard him correctly. "That’s not—" you begin, but he interrupts you.

"It’s honest."

"You can’t just say that," your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"I just did." His gaze doesn’t leave yours for even half a second.

"It’s too… direct."

"You asked for it." He says it simply, like it is the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re a tease," you say, not sure if you are complaining or not.

"Wait until you find out what else I am. You want to know me? Then make sure you’re ready."

You do not know what to say or what to do, so you look away, your face burning.

When he finally walks you to your door, you are a little unsteady on your feet. He steadies you with a gentle hand on your waist, and the touch is enough to send shivers through your body. "I’m fine," you murmur, even though you are swaying slightly.

"You’re drunk," he says, smiling at your messy state.

"I’m a little tipsy," you reply, giving him a blurry-eyed look.

"You’re drunk."

"It’s the same thing," you mutter dismissively.

"No, it’s not." He is looking at you with that warm, steady gaze that makes your knees feel weak.

You smile, light and tipsy. "Yes, it is."

At your door, you miss the lock twice. He laughs softly before helping you. "Thank you," you whisper. "For this, for the wine, the company, and everything."

His lips curve into a small, warm smile. "Good night, old enough.:

You smile again — you seem to always be smiling when he is around. "Good night, old man."

You step inside, close the door, and lean against it with your heart racing and your whole body warm from the wine and his words — still smiling like an idiot.

A few minutes later, you are curled up in bed when your phone buzz on the nightstand.

────────

You have been tossing and turning on the mattress for what feels like hours — shifting positions, turning to the other side, but nothing helps. You can’t fall asleep — you mind refuses to stop, racing with thoughts about exams, deadlines, and the weight of all your responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. You need air, you need to feel like you are not suffocating in that apartment, surrounded by boxes you haven't even had the time to unpack yet. There are several unfinished notes on your desk that constantly remind you that you are not doing enough, no matter how hard you try.

So you go up to the rooftop. The cool night air hits your face and lets you breathe again.

The city is an endless sea of lights — countless tiny glowing points in the darkness that remind you how small you really are. You sit on the old bench near the edge of the roof, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them like a shield.

Your thoughts slowly begin to calm as the minutes pass, and the knot in your chest loosens just a little.

Then the door creaks open behind you.

You turn quickly, your body instantly on alert and your heart racing. And there he is — Jay. He is wearing sweatpants and a black shirt, something about this casual, almost domestic look makes your heart skip a beat. He sees you immediately and stops. Surprise flashes across his face for a second before it turns into that familiar half-smile.

"Can’t sleep either?" His voice is low, almost intimate in a way that makes you shiver.

You shake your head. "I have too much on my mind right now…"

He nods as if he completely understands — and he really does. Walking toward you, he stops at a respectful distance before sitting on the bench beside you — close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, but not so close that he invades your personal space. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." You shift over a little even though there is already enough space.

He leans back, looking up at the sky, which is beautiful tonight with a full moon and stars shining brightly. The silence stretches between you. He doesn’t force conversation; he simply sits there observing the sky and the city with you. The silence is not awkward — it is actually comforting, especially when you are with him.

"I can’t sleep," you admit, breaking the silence with words that slip out before you can stop them. "I try, but my brain just won’t stop. Every time I close my eyes, I start thinking about all the things I have to do, all the things I haven’t done, and all the ways I’m probably going to mess everything up."

"What’s on your mind?" His voice is gentle and patient as always, showing that he is ready to listen.

"Everything." You let out a shaky sigh. "College, exams, being away from my family for the first time… It’s a lot. I thought I was ready, that I could handle it. But sometimes it feels like I’m drowning and I don’t know how to swim. Literally."

"I know how that feels," he says after a long moment of silence. His eyes stay fixed on yours, and there is something raw in them — something honest. "I remember feeling exactly like that. Like everything was too much and I was too small to handle it."

"You’re talking about yourself. That’s new," you say softly. "You always ask about me, but you never—"

"You already have enough on your plate," he cuts in gently.

You blink, caught off guard. "What?"

"You’re stressed about college, adjusting to a new city, and far from your family," he keeps his gaze steady on you, his expression sincere. "You don’t need to hear about my problems too."

"That’s not how it works." You shake your head as something warm and confusing blooms in your chest. "We’re supposed to share things. That’s what—" You pause, searching for the right word. "That’s what friends do."

"I don’t want to burden you when you’re already dealing with so much, and I certainly don’t want to make it worse."

You stay quiet for a moment, his words stirring something you cannot quite name — but it feels good. "That’s really… kind," you finally say.

"I try." He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.

The silence settles again, and you sit together quietly for a while longer. Then, out of nowhere, he tilts his head and asks, "How’s your succulent doing?"

You laugh at the unexpected question. "You’re asking about my plant?"

"I remember you mentioned it." He turns toward you — fully turning his body — with a small playful smile on his lips. "I bet you gave it a name."

You shake your head, still smiling. "I haven’t named it yet… but it’s still alive, which is honestly impressive."

"You’re supposed to water it," he says in a gently scolding tone.

"I know." You look away, feeling a little guilty about slowly killing a plant.

"But you forget." There is no judgment in his voice, only warm amusement.

"I forget." You laugh — something you always do when you are with him. "I have a lot on my mind, okay?"

"You’re a plant killer." He smiles, making you grin even wider.

"I’m not a plant killer! I’m just… forgetful. It is surviving, which is more than I can say about myself sometimes."

Something in your words changes his expression. It is still gentle, but now there is a hint of concern. "You’re doing better than you think."

You don’t know what to say, so you just look at him, with the words stuck in your throat.

"Does the succulent at least have company?" he asks after a moment, his voice light as always.

You blink, confused by the sudden question. "What?"

"Other plants, maybe some flowers, something to keep it company. Plants get lonely too."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t think it gets lonely. It’s just a plant, after all."

"All living things have feelings. It definitely feels lonely," he says with so much conviction that you almost believe him.

"That’s not scientifically accurate," you reply, not entirely sure if what you are saying is accurate either.

"I never said it was." He shrugs. "I’m a lawyer. I deal with arguments, not facts."

"They’re the same thing."

"Not at all." He shifts closer to you on the bench, making sure you are listening. "Facts are objective. Arguments are subjective. I make a living turning subjective arguments into something that sounds like objective facts."

"That’s… something. And you’re so weird."

"I’m just concerned about your plant’s loneliness." His voice is incredibly serious, showing that he is taking this very seriously.

"You’re worried about my plant," you say, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, just like I worry about you."

You don’t know what to say again — Jay has a way of leaving you speechless. Your cheeks flush and you look away. "I’ve never received flowers before, anyway…" you say softly, the secret slipping from your lips.

Jay is not sure he heard you correctly. "What did you say?"

Even though you hesitate, you repeat it, louder this time. "I’ve never received flowers." You look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. "I had a boyfriend before, but he was an idiot. He never did anything romantic like giving me flowers or taking me for dates."

He stays silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you while your heart pounds loudly in your ears. He is thinking about something — you can tell by the way his jaw tightens. "Would you want to go on one? With me."

You stop breathing the moment you hear his words and everything around you seems to freeze. "What?"

"A date. A real date where I pick you up, open doors for you, and take you somewhere nice. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. It can just be two people spending time together. Whatever makes you feel comfortable."

Your heart is beating so hard you are sure he can hear it, your mouth is dry, your palms are sweaty, and the words feel stuck in your throat again. Jay is asking you out on a date — a real date. The age gap has been on your mind since the day you met — he is a lawyer and you are still trying to figure out how to live on your own, but every interaction with him feels safe, like he truly sees you.

"Jay, I—" You stop, taking a shaky breath.

"You don’t have to answer right now," he says gently, giving you time to think.

"No, I—" You take another deep breath, and this time the words come out steady. "Yes. Yes, I want that."

His face transforms — a slow, warm smile spreads across his lips and reaches his eyes, making your stomach flip and your heart race just like always.

"Great," he says softly. "I’ll plan something."

A shy laugh escapes you as the reality of it sinks in. "What do you like to do on dates? I’m sure you’ve been on plenty."

He leans forward a little, resting his elbow on his knee. "I want to know what you like. That’s what matters right now, tell me your preferences so I can plan something good for you."

As you think for a moment, you suddenly feel embarrassed by how limited your preferences are. "I’m kind of picky, honestly. I like pasta, I hate anything too spicy, and I don’t like overly sweet desserts. Oh, and I’m not a big fan of seafood unless it’s fried. Is that too much?"

Jay listens attentively, nodding as if he is absorbing every detail. "Not at all. Being picky isn’t a problem, it actually makes it easier to get it right." He pauses, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "You know, for someone who’s a disaster in the kitchen, you have very specific opinions, princess."

The nickname lands softly between you — affectionate and teasing, with a hint of warmth. Your breath catches, your face flushes instantly, and you lower your head to hide the redness in your cheeks and the smile forming on your lips.

"I… You can’t just say that," you murmur, looking at him through your lashes.

"Why not?" He is smiling even more now, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It suits you. You have high standards and you know exactly what you want, even if you pretend you don’t."

You cover your face with both hands for a second, peeking through your fingers. "You’re going to make me regret saying yes."

"Too late," he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. "You already said yes."

You lower your hands and meet his gaze, your heart racing in the best possible way. Jay stands up suddenly and offers you his hand. "Come on, it’s getting late and you have class tomorrow. Let’s get you back inside before you freeze."

You take his hand — which is so much bigger than yours — and let him help you up. He doesn’t let go afterward, his fingers stay intertwined with yours as you walk together toward your floor. The elevator is no longer broken, but you both take the stairs anyway, wanting to prolong the moment a little longer.

Stopping at your door, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand. “I'll text you about the date,” he says softly. "We’ll pick a night that works."

You nod, still feeling a little shy about everything. "Okay… Good night, Jay."

"Good night, princess."

────────

The next day, you are more nervous than you have ever been. Every notification on your phone makes your heart skip a beat, terrified that it is Jay confirming the date. Your stomach is in knots with a mix of panic and hope, even though you want to go on this date, you are still incredibly nervous about it.

Your phone buzzes while you are in the library trying to study. "Friday at seven? I’ll take care of everything. Just be ready for a proper night out."

The words "proper night out" send a shiver through you. He is taking this seriously, treating it as something special, even though he said it didn’t have to be romantic. Still, it means something. Smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt, you text back agreeing.

When Friday finally arrives, the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. In fact, they become even more restless as the time of the date gets closer. Hours before, you start getting ready — taking your time as you choose an outfit that makes you feel confident and beautiful. You spend extra time on your makeup, keeping it natural but enhancing your eyes and lips, making sure everything is perfect.

Exactly at seven, you take the elevator down. Jay had insisted on waiting outside the building instead of knocking on your door. "I want you to have the full experience," he had texted earlier, and the gesture made you smile despite your nerves. The moment you step out onto the sidewalk, you see him leaning against his sleek black car parked at the curb. He looks unfairly handsome in a tailored dark shirt and pants.

For a moment, he simply looks at you — slowly scanning from your face to your dress and back up again as his smile widens. "You look beautiful," he says, taking a step closer. "Really, truly beautiful."

Your cheeks flush quickly and a smile forms on your lips. "Thank you. You look really handsome too."

Before you can say anything else, he reaches inside the car and pulls out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. "I remembered what you said on the rooftop…"

The bouquet is perfect, wrapped so beautifully that it makes your chest tighten. "Jay…" you whisper as you reach out to take the flowers. "They’re beautiful. I don’t even know what to say."

Without thinking, you give him a grateful hug. His arms wrap around you immediately, one hand resting on your lower back while the other gently caresses the nape of your neck. "You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy tonight. That’s all I want."

When you pull away, still smiling widely, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and asks, "Ready to go, princess?"

You nod, holding the flowers like a lifeline. He opens the car door for you, waiting until you are settled before closing it gently. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he looks at you with a playful smile. "Seatbelt, please. Safety first."

You laugh and buckle up. "Such a gentleman."

"Only for you."

The drive starts peacefully, soft music playing in the background as you talk. He asks about your day and teases you lightly when you admit that you spent half of your class daydreaming about tonight and that it took you forever to choose what to wear.

You can’t stop stealing glances at him — the way his hands rest easily on the steering wheel, those large hands with long fingers, and the way he looks at you at red lights as if making sure you are still real.

After a few minutes, you notice the city lights fading and buildings giving way to trees. "Where are we going?" you ask curiously, realizing he has been driving for a while — much farther than you expected. "This is pretty far from our building. Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"

Jay laughs, keeping his eyes on the road. "I’m not going to kill you. I’m just taking you to a place I love, and I think you’ll love it too."

The drive takes about thirty minutes, but when you finally arrive, the restaurant leaves you breathless. You immediately understand why he chose it — it is cozy and elegant, with a stunning view of the city. He reserved a intimate corner table with the perfect view.

He pulls out the chair for you, and as soon as you sit down, he leans in slightly to whisper in your ear, "Relax, okay?"

The dinner unfolds perfectly. You order pasta — creamy, exactly the way you like it — and he chooses a steak dish, offering you a bite from his fork with a raised eyebrow that feels far more intimate than it should. You talk a lot, and he listens as always, head tilted and eyes focused only on you.

You tell him about the friendships you are making in college, about the strange noise your AC is making, and absentmindedly mention the doorman. "He’s nice, I think… but sometimes he looks at me like he knows something I don’t."

Jay’s expression shifts with something unreadable for half a second, but he quickly covers it with a soft chuckle. "He’s probably just in a bad mood. Or maybe he sees how much you’re distracting your poor neighbor."

You laugh. "Poor neighbor? You seem to be handling it pretty well."

His foot brushes against yours under the table. "Barely."

In the middle of the conversation, Jay’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, frowns, and silences it, slipping it into his pocket.

But a few minutes later, it buzzed again. Jay sighs. "I need to take this. It’s probably an emergency with a client. I won’t be long. I’m really sorry."

"Go ahead. I’ll be here judging the dessert menu."

He leans in and gives you a quick kiss on your temple before standing up. "I’ll be right back, princess."

The casual display of affection makes your heart race as you watch him walk away. While he is gone, you take a sip of your wine, observe the people around you, and study the dessert menu.

He returns after about five minutes, sliding back into his seat with an apologetic smile. "All sorted. Where were we?"

When the check arrives, Jay pays without hesitation, even though you offered to split it. Outside, the night air is cold, so he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when he notices you shivering. Then he pulls you closer for a moment, wrapping his arms around you. "Thank you for saying yes," he murmurs against your hair.

You look up at him, smiling. "That was the best decision I’ve made in a long time."

The drive back feels shorter than the trip there, unfortunately — you wish this moment could last forever. Jay keeps one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles that send shivers down your spine. You arrive at the building sooner than you would like, but instead of stopping at the curb, Jay drives into the underground garage.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thank you, Jay. For everything, the flowers, the dinner, the evening… I had a really great time."

He turns to you, that slow smile playing on his lips. "I’m glad, princess."

You reach for the door handle, but his hand moves quickly, wrapping around your wrist and stopping you. Your breath catches at the unexpected contact. "Wait, aren’t you going to thank me properly?"

You blink, confused. "I just did? The hug outside the restaurant and just now."

Jay chuckles, and his gaze shifts into something hungrier. "That was sweet, but I was thinking of something a little more fitting for the end of a perfect night."

Without overthinking it, you lean across the console and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," you whisper again, pulling back to see his reaction.

His smile widens. "Still not enough, princess. Come here."

He cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. The kiss starts soft, his lips meeting yours hesitantly, and you quickly melt into it, which makes him deepen the kiss while still keeping a slow, deliberate pace. His tongue traces your lower lip, and you part for him with a small sigh.

What begins as one kiss turns into many, you lose count as they grow more intense, hungry, and urgent.

Somehow, you end up climbing over the console. His hands guide your hips until you are straddling his lap in the driver’s seat. The space is tight and the steering wheel presses against your back, but you couldn't care less right now. His hands roam along your sides, sliding up your dress until they rest on your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles that make you whimper against his mouth.

You kiss him again and again, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging gently, which draws a low groan from him. That only encourages you — hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you. The friction makes you gasp, and Jay clearly loves the sight — he squeezes your thighs, encouraging your movements.

"God, you’re incredible," he whispers against your mouth between kisses. "So responsive… so perfect."

Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, breathing hard. "You deserve better than this, princess. Our first time shouldn’t be in a car like a couple of impatient teenagers."

You kiss him again, more intensely, nipping at his lower lip. "I don’t care, I want you right here."

He groans, sliding his hand into your hair to pull you into another hungry kiss. "You’re so eager, princess… and so perfect grinding against me like this."

His mouth moves down to your neck, sucking lightly and drawing more whimpers from you. Your movements become restless, rubbing harder, chasing friction. "Jay…" you whisper between kisses. "I need you, please."

His hands find the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up inch by inch with clear appreciation until he discards it onto the passenger seat. "Beautiful," he murmurs reverently as he stares at your tits. "So beautiful." He leans down, pressing hot, wet kisses along the soft skin, then his tongue circles one nipple before sucking it deeply into his mouth.

You arch your back, a moan escaping your lips. He gives the same attention to the other tit, licking, sucking, and grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth while his hand massages and caresses the first. “You taste so good,” he praises, his voice muffled. "These perfect tits in my mouth… you’re already trembling. So sensitive for me."

He kisses lower, along your sternum and ribs, then back up — worshipping every inch of you while you keep grinding against him. Your panties are soaked, and the friction against his hardness only turns you on more.

He waits until you’re trembling in his lap before he finally moves. Reaching between you, he lowers his pants and boxers just enough to free himself, and when he does, your eyes widen. He is big — thick and hard. The sight makes your mouth water and heat pool low in your belly.

Jay reaches into the glove compartment, fumbling for a condom. He tears it open and rolls it down his length with surprising skill while you watch, hypnotized and a little intimidated by his size and thickness. "You’re… really big," you say softly.

Jay notices your nervousness and caresses your cheek, trying to soothe you. "We’ll go slow, princess. I’ve got you. My good girl can take it."

He helps you shift your panties to the side, guiding you as you sink down onto him. The stretch is intense but delicious — you take him inch by inch, breathing deeply as he fills you completely, murmuring praises nonstop. "That’s it, princess… so tight, so good for me… so fucking perfect around me."

You bury your face in his neck as you sink all the way down, taking him completely until your ass is pressed firmly against his lap. "Oh God… you’re so, so big," you moan, still adjusting to the intense stretch.

The age difference flashes through your mind — he is older, more experienced, probably used to women who knew exactly what they were doing. You want to be good for him, so once you feel ready, you start moving — bouncing with almost frantic energy, desperate to please him. Your hips move and grind fast, determined.

"Easy, princess," Jay groans, gripping your hips to slow you down. "Slow… just like that. You feel incredible, but there’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere."

You moan, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "I just… you’ve probably been with so many others who were better at this. I want to make it good for you. I want to be the best—"

He cuts you off with a deep kiss, then pulls back to look into your eyes while still guiding your movements into a slower, deeper rhythm. "Hey, none of that. It’s just you right now, and you’re already the best, baby. Look at how perfectly you take me." He thrusts up gently to emphasize his words, drawing a moan from you. "You’re my princess."

You relax into his words and the rhythm he sets, moving your hips in deep, grinding motions instead of frantic bouncing. It feels even better this way — his thickness brushing against every sensitive spot inside you. "Like this?" you ask breathlessly, your voice shy but needy.

"Just like that," he praises, his voice rough. "So good for me. So wet… so tight. You’re perfect, listen to those pretty sounds you make."

You keep whispering to him the whole time — shy confessions and soft, breathless questions. "You feel so good, Jay… I feel so full. Does it feel good for you? Tell me if you’re enjoying it."

He groans, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass, then returning to your tits so he can lick and suck them while you ride him. "I love it. I love everything you do. The way you squeeze me… the way you say my name. You’re ruining me, princess."

The pleasure builds uncontrollably, intense and overwhelming, leaving both of you sweaty and breathless. He slides a hand between you to your clit, circling it with his thumb in time with your movements. You tremble hard, moaning and gasping, telling him how close you are, how good he feels, and how much you have wanted this since the day you moved in.

When you come, your walls pulse tightly around his thickness and your body shakes as you cry out his name. Jay follows right after, holding you firmly against him as he finishes into the condom with a deep groan, murmuring endless praises. "That’s it, come for me… so beautiful giving yourself to me completely… my perfect girl."

You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. He wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing your temple while his hands gently caress your back. "You okay?" he whispers after a while. "Was it too much?"

"It was perfect," you murmur, nuzzling into his neck. "Better than I imagined. Thank you for slowing me down when I got too excited. I probably embarrassed myself, right?"

He shakes his head lightly and laughs, then he gives you one last kiss on your temple and helps you climb back into the passenger seat, watching as you slip your dress back on. "Don’t forget these," he says, reaching for the bouquet.

You take it with a happy smile. "I wouldn’t dare."

He walks around the car to open your door and intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk toward the elevator. Once inside, he pulls you close and kisses you the entire way up to your floor.

"Your place tonight?" you ask against his lips.

Jay’s hand slides to your lower back, pulling you even closer. "Yes, because I’m not done with you yet. I need you in my bed. The thought of you in my sheets, smelling like me when you wake up… it drives me crazy."

The elevator doors open and he pulls you down the hallway toward his door, unlocking it effortlessly. The moment you are both inside, he takes the flowers from your hand, sets them on the counter, and turns to you with hungry eyes. "Come here," he growls, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. His hands cup your face first, then slide down your body. "Let me take care of you properly this time."

He leads you to the bedroom and there, he undresses you slowly, admiring and kissing every inch of exposed skin. When you are completely naked, he steps back and looks at you with pure admiration and desire. "Fuck, look at you… so perfect. Every curve, every inch… all mine tonight."

He removes his own clothes and guides you onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. His warm palms caress them, spreading you open even more. His mouth is on you immediately, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit before circling the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, savoring you. "Mmm, already so wet," the vibration of his voice makes you gasp. "You taste so sweet, princess. Like you were made for my mouth."

You let out a shaky moan, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. "Jay… that feels incredible. Oh God—"

He slides a finger inside you, curling it against that sweet spot while his mouth continues sucking and licking. The suction around your clit, the rhythm of his finger stroking that perfect spot deep inside — it all turns the pleasure into something deliciously overwhelming. He adds a second finger, then a third, carefully stretching you as he pumps them in and out.

Your hips move against his face as the pleasure intensifies. "Don’t stop… please, Jay, just like that," you moan, your voice breathless and desperate. He eats you out like a starving man — licking, sucking, and thrusting his fingers into you until your thighs shake around his head and you fall apart with a long, loud cry. You clench and pulse around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you.

Jay doesn’t stop right away, he keeps licking and fingering you through it, prolonging every sensation until you are limp and panting. Only then he drags his mouth up your body, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, and up your neck. "You taste like heaven," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could do this all night, make you come on my tongue until you go stupid."

He grabs a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on quickly over his hard, leaking cock. You reach down, wrapping your hand around his thick, hard length — stroking him slowly, feeling the weight, the pulsing heat, tracing the veins with curiosity. "I want it raw, Jay… I need to feel you, please."

He groans deeply, his hips pushing forward into your fist. "Baby… protection first, remember? I’ll still make you feel good even with the latex between us, I promise." After kissing your forehead, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes in inch by inch, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You feel a burning stretch as your walls slowly give way to him, every thick pulsing vein dragging against your sensitive insides. When he’s halfway in, you look down between your bodies and see the clear bulge pressing out against your lower belly.

He notices it right after and quickly slides a hand down to press against the bulge, feeling it move under his palm as he sinks deeper. "Fuck, look at that. You see how deep I am? My cock is rearranging your insides, princess. Stretching this tight pussy so you can see it from the outside."

Your hand joins his, pressing against the visible outline, feeling him move inside you from both the inside and the outside. He teases you mercilessly, thrusting slow and deep so the bulge shifts under your combined touch. "You’re taking me so well, like this pussy was made for my cock. So greedy, swallowing every inch."

He sinks the rest of the way in with a guttural groan, bottoming out completely. "Shit… so tight, so hot. You’re already milking me."

His thick cock fills you so completely that every movement presses against sensitive spots that steal the breath from your lungs. His thrusts start controlled and incredibly gentle instead of brutal force. One hand stays intertwined with yours above your head, while the other caresses your cheek, squeezes your breast, and lightly pinches your nipple before soothing it with his thumb. "You look like pure sin wrapped around me… My beautiful princess, creaming all over my cock, taking every inch like a good girl. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Jay… it feels so good. You’re so deep, I can feel you everywhere." He leans down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his hips move faster in a devastating rhythm that pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

You come hard around him, your walls fluttering and clenching tightly as you cry out. He does not stop, thrusting deep and steady, prolonging your orgasm until you are shaking. "Fuck, that’s it, come on my cock, baby."

Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a long, broken groan of your name as he cums, pulsing inside you. He stays buried deep for long moments afterwards, holding you close and covering your face, neck, and shoulders with soft kisses until both of your breathing steadies.

Eventually, he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and returns from the bathroom with a warm, damp cloth. He cleans you both gently, murmuring more praises the entire time. "You were perfect, princess. So responsive, so beautiful when you come for me." He pulls the sheets over both of you and wraps you in his arms.

Your head rests on Jay’s chest while his fingers trace a lazy path along your spine, down to the curve of your waist. Without a word, you shift, turning onto your side. Jay follows naturally, molding his body against yours from behind in a perfect spoon. His chest presses against your back as he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. You can already feel him half-hard again against the curve of your ass, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.

He nuzzles into the back of your neck, placing soft kisses there. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough in the quiet room.

"More than okay," you whisper back, pressing lightly against him. "I like feeling you close like this."

Jay reaches for another condom from the nightstand. You hear the faint rustle as he puts it on, then his hand returns to your body, tenderly caressing your side and hip. He lifts your top leg slightly, hooking it over his, opening you up for him. The thick head of his cock brushes against your entrance before he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until he is buried completely inside you.

"So good," he whispers against your neck, sliding a hand up to caress your breast. His fingers massage gently, his thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his touch.

He starts moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips, thrusting unhurriedly so you can feel every inch of his thick cock dragging against your walls. While he fucks you, his hand on your breast never stops worshipping it — squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally pinching lightly before soothing it with gentle caresses. And his mouth keeps placing open-mouthed kisses along the back of your neck, back, and shoulder.

You reach behind you, running your fingers through his hair as you move with him. "Jay… deeper like that feels so good."

His thrusts become a little deeper, but still controlled. "You take me so well every single time. Look at how perfectly you fit around me. I could stay inside you forever." His mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark while he continues playing with your breasts — pinching, rolling, and caressing until your nipples are deliciously sore. Only then he slid his hand down to your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. The combination of sensations is overwhelming and pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "You’re so close… I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me again, princess."

And you do. Your walls contract rhythmically around his thickness as you moan his name, your body trembling in his arms. Jay follows right after you, burying his face in your neck with a deep groan as he comes, filling the condom.

You turn your head slightly to capture his lips in a lazy kiss. "I feel so safe with you," you whisper. "And so wanted."

He stays inside you until the aftershocks fade, then carefully pulls out, discards the condom, and cleans you both once again with gentle care. He pulls the sheets up around you both and draws you back into his arms, spooning you again.

Jay’s hand rests tenderly on your stomach, tracing small circles there. You feel deeply in love and completely at peace as you start to drift off to sleep, safe in his arms.

Sunlight is already filtering through the curtains by the time you slowly wake up the next morning —.only to realize the space beside you is empty, even though the warmth of Jay’s body and the faint scent of his cologne still linger around. You stretch and sit up to look around the room, noticing one of his shirts draped over the back of a chair. Slipping it on, you pad barefoot out of the bedroom toward the kitchen, drawn by the rich aroma of coffee and food already filling the air.

Jay is at the stove, flipping eggs while a plate of toast and cut fruit waits for you on the counter. You walk up to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. "Good morning."

He turns off the stove and turns around, settling his hands on your hips. His gaze softens instantly when he sees you wearing his shirt. "Good morning, princess. You look way too good in my clothes."

You laugh softly and tilt your face up, expecting a kiss. He leans in but pauses with a playful look. "Ah, but you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. No good-morning kisses until after breakfast."

You pout and dramatically pull away. "Not even a kiss on the cheek? You’re so cruel."

With a sigh, he gives in — pressing a long kiss to your cheek, then another to your forehead. Before you can say anything, he effortlessly lifts you and sits you on the edge of the kitchen counter, standing between your knees. "There. Now I can look at you properly while I finish this."

As he moves around the kitchen, your eyes wander until they stop on the refrigerator. Something catches your attention — photos are held up by magnets, but one in particular stands out: a Polaroid of Jay smiling with his arm around a woman’s shoulders. You hadn't noticed it on your previous visits to the kitchen — you had been too focused on him. "Who is that?" you ask curiously, nodding toward the fridge. "The woman in the photo with you?"

Jay glances over while sliding a plate toward you. "That’s my sister. We don’t look much alike, I know. We’re actually half-siblings."

You tilt your head, studying the photo for another second. They really do not look very similar, but that is not unusual for half-siblings. "She looks nice," you say lightly, accepting the plate he offers. "Breakfast looks delicious, by the way. You really didn’t have to."

"I wanted to," he replies, stepping between your knees and stealing a quick peck. "After last night, it feels right to take care of you this morning… and maybe every other morning too."

You smile shyly. "Speaking of last night… it was incredible. You made everything feel so good, so right. I keep replaying every part of it in my head."

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "You were perfect, baby. I loved every second of it." He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth. "You’re so beautiful when you let go for me."

"You’re going to make it really hard for me to focus in class today." You take a bite of the toast, savoring it. "Oh, by the way, I’m going out with some new friends from college tonight. They invited me to a party, it’s a chance to get to know each other better outside of class."

Jay nods, resting a hand on your thigh and stroking it lightly. "Sounds fun. Just be careful, okay? Text me when you get there and when you’re heading back."

"I will," you say, stealing another quick kiss from him. "I won’t stay out too late anyway. I have an early class tomorrow."

He picks up a piece of fruit from the plate and brings it to your mouth, brushing his fingers teasingly against your lips. "You deserve to have fun… I’ll be here if you need anything when you get back."

You stumble out of your friend’s car a little after 1 a.m., waving goodbye as you sway on your feet. You make your way toward the building entrance and suddenly remember that you promised to text Jay — which you didn’t. So you call him to let him know you arrived and are heading up. In response, he says he is waiting for you.

When you reach the third floor, Jay’s door is already open and he is waiting for you. "Heyyy," you say cheerfully, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. "I’m back. Just like I promised."

Laughing Jay’s arms wrap around you automatically as he looks at you more closely. "You’re pretty drunk, princess. How was the party?"

"So much fun," you ramble, clinging to him tighter as he guides you inside and closes the door. "We danced, there was a shot game, and my new friends are so funny. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt." You tilt your head up, puckering your lips. "Kiss?"

Instead of a proper kiss, he gives you a quick one on your forehead. "You smell like a distillery and your shirt is soaked, what happened?"

You look down at the sticky stain on your shirt and pout. "Someone spilled on me. It’s gross. But I still want kisses, real kisses." You try to pull his face down, standing on your tiptoes. "I missed you all night. I kept thinking about you during the party… about how nice you were last night. We should do that again right now."

Jay gently holds your wrists to stop you. "Not tonight, princess. You’re drunk."

"But I want you," you beg, pressing closer, but he doesn’t give in at all. "You’re so hot, so gentle, and… big. Please?"

He shakes his head and guides you toward the bathroom. "No. Only when you’re sober and can remember everything clearly. Right now, I’m just taking care of you, okay?"

"Let’s get you cleaned up," he says gently once you reach the bathroom. Reaching for the hem of your wet shirt he carefully pulls it off, followed by the rest of your clothes.

"You’re always so gentle with me," you murmur, watching him adjust the shower temperature. "No one has ever been this gentle. I really, really like you, Jay."

He smiles softly and helps you into the shower, joining you still fully dressed so he can take care of you. Jay keeps one hand on your waist to steady you while the other runs soapy over your shoulders and arms.

The alcohol in your system makes your emotions spill out easily before you can stop them. "I think… I think I’m falling for you," you confess, your tongue loose, making your cheeks flush. "Is that crazy? It feels too fast. I know I’m younger and still figuring everything out, but being with you just feels right. You make me feel safe, wanted, and special."

Jay pauses for half a second, processing what he just heard, but then continues washing you carefully — lathering the floral-scented body wash over your skin. "This smells like… girl stuff," you say, a little curious. "Is it yours?"

He looks away for a moment before answering. "It’s my mom’s. She left some things here the last time she came to visit."

"Ah," You rest your forehead against his chest as the water runs over both of you. "I meant it, though. About falling for you. Even if it’s too soon… I can’t help it."

Jay wraps his arms fully around you under the spray of water, holding you close — voice is full of affection when he finally replies. "Hey… look at me, princess." He gently lifts your chin. "What you’re feeling… I feel it too." Softly, he kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose. "We don’t need to rush or label anything right now. Just know that I’m here and I care about you a lot."

Even in your alcohol-fueled haze, his words calm the part of you that was worried you were moving too fast. "Really? You feel it too?"

"I do." He continues washing you carefully — your arms, your back, your sides — just taking care of you. "Being with you is easy. Natural. So let’s just enjoy it, okay? One day at a time."

Jay finishes rinsing you off and helps you out of the shower. Wrapping you in a towel he dries you gently before dressing you in one of his shirts. By the time he guides you to bed, you are already sleepy. He helps you lie down and you snuggle into the sheets, murmuring one last "I really like you" before falling asleep.

────────

The following days feel almost too good to be real.

You wake up in Jay’s bed, wrapped in his arms and wearing one of his shirts. He always wakes up before you to make breakfast and greet you with a good morning kiss and that smile that still makes your heart flutter. But on some mornings, you pull him back into bed to cuddle before classes and work, and without any argument, he makes time to make you feel loved.

When you get home from class, tired, Jay is already there to greet you cheerfully despite his own exhaustion. He texts you during the day, asking how your classes are going and reminding you to eat. When you are together, he pulls you in for slow, affectionate kisses — the kind that make your legs weak. Some nights you cook together as he tries to teach you how to make proper meals. Other nights he orders takeout and you eat on the couch while you tell him every detail of your day. He still doesn’t share much about himself, always dodging the subject, but you do not push — you don’t want to be invasive.

The sex is frequent — sometimes slow and worshipful, his mouth and hands adoring every inch of you until you are trembling and coming apart. Other times it is faster and more urgent — against the kitchen counter, in the shower, on the couch, in his home office. One night you try baking cookies together, ending up covered in flour and laughing as he kisses the mess off your cheek. Another night you start watching a movie cuddled together, but the movie is forgotten halfway through when clothes come off and he fucks you right there on the couch.

Suddenly everything feels so domestic — he now keeps an extra toothbrush for you, your notebooks are on his coffee table, and some of your clothes are scattered around his apartment. It is undeniable that you are falling deeper and deeper in love.

On a Sunday afternoon, you are studying on his couch while Jay is in his home office, working on a complicated case that demands his full attention. After hours buried in books and notes, concentrating is almost impossible. At this point, your mind keeps wandering to him without permission. When your brain finally gives up, you close the book with a dramatic sigh.

You walk down the hallway and peek into his office. Jay is sitting at his desk with his sleeves rolled up, looking unfairly attractive as he concentrates on reviewing some papers. "Jay?" you call, walking in without waiting for an answer.

He looks up, and the moment his eyes meet yours, the tension in his shoulders softens. "Hey, princess. How are the studies going?"

Boring." You take a few steps closer and don’t ask for permission — you simply climb into his lap, settling on his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a trail of kisses along his jaw, then his cheek and lips. "I missed you. Pay attention to me? Just for a little while?"

One of his hands rests on your waist while the other continues organizing the documents. "I’d love to, baby, but this case is a nightmare. There are documents everywhere. I’m going crazy with these."

You nuzzle into the curve of his neck and kiss him there. "You’ve been in here for hours… you deserve a break." Your hips move subtly against him, restless, the friction sending a spark through both of you. You feel him twitch beneath you, already starting to respond to your movements.

Jay’s grip on your waist tightens. "Princess…" There is a warning tone in his voice, bordering on frustration. But as you grind against him, you can feel him beginning to harden, and that gives you hope — you think he might give in.

"You’re really testing me today." He pulls you into a kiss, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. When he pulls away, it is with a frustrated sigh.

"That's the point," you whisper, smiling proudly against his lips as you continue grinding, slower this time, feeling him get even harder.

Jay curses under his breath, gripping your hips more firmly. No matter how hard he tries to hold back, he can’t, the desire is uncontrollable. He reaches between you and unzips his pants. "Fine, but you’re going to behave." He frees his hard, throbbing cock and pulls your panties and shorts to the side. This time there is nothing between you — no latex barrier, just him.

You sink down onto him slowly, and the new sensation hits you immediately — it’s different, hotter, more intimate. Every ridge and vein is raw against your walls, the skin-to-skin contact sends a shiver through your entire body and makes you moan as you settle fully onto him. The stretch feels deeper and more overwhelming than ever.

For a moment, it feels perfect — connected, raw.

But then his hands close firmly on your hips, holding you completely still. "Don’t move," he commands, his voice noticeably deeper and rougher. "Stay just like this. No grinding, no whimpering. I’m serious."

His cock pulses hot and heavy inside you, and you can barely focus on what he said. "Jay… oh my God, you feel—"

"I said don’t move," he interrupts, repeating it more harshly this time. His free hand returns to the stack of papers while the other arm stays wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place.

At first, you try to obey — resting your head on his shoulder and breathing deeply every time his cock twitches inside you, but the longer you sit there, the harder it becomes. You let out a soft moan as your hips twitch involuntarily. "Jay… please, just let me move a little bit."

"I told you not to move. Jesus, you’re really pushing it today." The irritation is clear in every word now, and his grip on your waist tightens even more. "I have a deadline. I can’t afford to get distracted like this."

Again, you try to stay still — you really do, until frustrated tears prick at your eyes — but your body betrays you with small, involuntary movements of your hips. "I’m sorry… I can’t help it. This is driving me crazy. I need you to move, please."

Jay’s jaw is tense and his breathing comes in heavy bursts — clearly fighting the urge to thrust up into you. "You think I don’t want to? You’re so tight and wet around me right now, but I can’t. I have work to do and you’re not letting me focus." His tone grows even harsher. "Stop squirming. Be a good girl for me and just sit there.”

But you do not listen — you roll your hips again, letting out a moan as he rubs against that sensitive spot inside you. "Jesus Christ. I told you I have work and this is fucking important."

"But I missed you and this is torture. Please, please just fu-"

He cuts you off sharply. "You always miss me, always need something. Kisses, hugs, my cock, my fucking attention. You practically live here now, your things are all over my apartment, you sleep in my bed like it’s yours. Isn’t that enough attention? You know what? I need you to get off so I can actually finish this case."

The words hurt, making your chest tighten — tears of frustration turn into something heavier and spill down your cheeks. "I didn’t mean to be annoying… I just wanted to be close to you."

"Yeah, well, wanting to be close to me doesn’t magically make my deadline disappear. I’m already behind because of distractions like this." His hand on your hip tightens even more, holding you completely still, the pressure bordering on uncomfortable. "You have your own apartment right next door. Just give me a few hours alone, for once."

You stare at him in disbelief at what you just heard. Suddenly the intimate position feels humiliating — the way you are still stretched around him while he looks at you like you are nothing but am annoyance. "You want me to leave? Like this… right now"

"I’m telling you to give me some space." With no patience left, he lifts you off him, leaving you empty and trembling. "Go to your place, take a nap, study, whatever. Just let me work."

You stand there with shaky legs, wiping away your tears, feeling small, vulnerable, and unwanted. With a quiet, trembling breath, you whisper, "…Okay."

It's past 9 PM when Jay finally steps out of his office, having finished dealing with that pile of papers. The silence hangs heavy now, normally you would be humming, curled up on the couch waiting for him, or laughing at something silly on your phone. Without you, the space feels too empty. He had been rude — way too rude — and he sees that now. He owes you an apology, so he walks over to your door, but just as he is about to knock, he notices the door is not fully closed — it’s slightly ajar, allowing him to hear low murmurs of voices.

Frowning, he pushes the door open a little more and steps inside, finding a guy standing right at the entrance to your living room, putting on a jacket. The guy turns at the sound of the door, his expression quickly shifting to surprise. "Ah, hi. You must be Jay. She talks about you a lot."

He looks over the other guy’s shoulder toward the couch where you are sitting with your knees pulled up. The guy cleans his throat, sensing the tension between the two of you. "I was just leaving… It was really nice talking to you." He gives you a small wave. "Text me if you need anything else, okay?"

You smile and wave back. "Yeah. Thanks, Jake. Drive safe."

As Jake heads for the door, Jay blocks his path. "Wait. What exactly were you doing here?"

Jake blinks, surprised by the sudden question. "She seemed pretty down when we texted, so I decided to stop by and check if she was okay. Anyway, I’m heading out. Nice to meet you, man."

He steps aside, letting Jake pass. The door closes behind him, leaving just the two of you in the suddenly too-quiet apartment.

You stand up, hugging yourself. "Jay… what are you doing here?"

The regret he felt for being so harsh with you is quickly replaced by jealousy and irritation. "I came because my place was too quiet without you. I started thinking maybe I was too hard on you earlier, but clearly you didn’t waste any time finding company."

You frown, confused by what he means. "He’s just a friend. I told you about him before, we met during my first week on campus when I accidentally walked into the wrong lecture hall. I was upset after you basically kicked me out, so I texted him. We weren’t doing anything, just talking."

Jay lets out a short, bitter laugh and steps closer. "Talking late at night like it’s a casual visit. You mentioned him before, of course, but I didn’t know you two were close enough for house calls."

The hurt from earlier mixes with frustration now. "You were so rude, Jay. You made me feel like I was an annoying pest who can’t function without your attention. I understand you’re stressed with work, but you didn’t have to push me away and kick me out like that. I felt embarrassed."

He closes even more of the distance between you, standing close enough that you can feel the jealousy radiating off him. "You’re the one who can’t sit still for five minutes without demanding something, climbing into my lap while I’m trying to meet a deadline, whimpering and squirming like a spoiled brat because you ‘missed me’."

You take a step back, but the couch hits the back of your legs. "I just wanted to be close to you."

"But the world doesn’t revolve around your need for attention. I love having you around, but today? You made it impossible for me to concentrate, and the second I ask for a few hours to actually get things done, you run straight to this Jake guy?" Jay doesn’t care that nothing happened — the image of another guy in your space, late at night, while you were upset, makes his blood boil.

"I didn’t run to him! I was crying when he got here and he just listened. Unlike you, who basically told me to leave because I’m too much."

Jay’s laugh is harsh this time, completely humorless. "Too much. Yeah, that’s one way of saying you’re a spoiled brat who demands attention every second, and the moment things get difficult, you replace me with whoever is most convenient."

Neither of you speaks for a long moment. You look away, Jay’s jaw clenches, and soon his gaze drifts from your face to the way you are hugging yourself, then lower, lingering on your bare legs. The jealousy is still burning in his chest, mixed with the memory of you sitting on his cock earlier, demanding attention, all needy.

"Come here," he says, nodding toward the couch.

You hesitate, biting your lip, which makes Jay exhale sharply and close the distance. His hand wraps around your wrist, guiding you toward the couch. "We’re not done talking about this."

He sits on the couch and pulls you closer until you are lying across his lap, your stomach pressed against his thighs. Your shirt has ridden up naturally, but he is not satisfied. "This is in the way." His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down and tossing them aside — leaving your ass completely bare for him.

Jay’s palm rests on one of your cheeks, squeezing the flesh possessively. "You’ve been pushing all day… needing attention, teasing me, and then Jake shows up at your place, and I’m supposed to just swallow that?" His fingers dig harder into the flesh. "You’re mine, and it’s time you learn what happens when you piss me off this much."

His hand makes slow circles over your skin, almost soothing. "How many spanks do you think you deserve for acting like this?"

Your heart races as you try to process his words — head turning slightly to look at him. "What? Are you serious?"

He meets your eyes with a firm, dark expression — one you have never seen from him before. "Very serious. You’ve been spoiled all day, teasing me on purpose. So tell me, how many do you think you deserve?"

You swallow hard, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I don’t know… Five? Maybe?"

Jay lets out a mocking laugh. "Five? That’s way too low, baby. You’re going to take twenty, and you’re going to count each one out loud. If you lose count or mess up, we start over. Understood?"

You hesitate but eventually whisper, "Yes… okay."

"Good girl." His hand lifts and the first spank comes without warning — firm and sharp, the sound echoing through the silence. You jolt, a surprised moan escaping you — heat spreads instantly across your bare skin, the sting stronger than you expected.

"One," you gasp.

He immediately rubs the spot in slow, soothing circles, calming the hot skin where he struck.

"Two," you say after the next spank lands on the other cheek.

Jay keeps a steady rhythm — delivering hard spanks followed by almost tender caresses. Then his fingers slide lower, tracing your wet folds, spreading them teasingly, brushing against your entrance, lightly circling your clit before pulling away.

"What a spoiled little brat," he murmurs during one of the pauses, rubbing your reddened cheeks while two fingers tease your slit again. "You’re already getting so wet… You like this, don’t you?"

You moan instead of answering, which earns you another sharp spank. "Five."

He continues, the spanks leaving marks and building heat across your ass. Now his fingers are dip inside you, moving with slow, shallow thrusts, curling just enough to brush that sensitive spot and make you clench around him desperately. But he always pulls back before you can get close to the edge.

"Six… seven… ah!"

By ten, tears prick your eyes, your thighs trembling as the sting turns into a pulsing heat.

Jay pauses longer this time, massaging your sore ass and spreading your cheeks so he can tease your entrance again. "You’re mine. When you need attention that badly, you come to me, even if I’m stressed, even if I tell you to leave." A finger pushes deep inside you, staying there while his thumb brushes your clit.

You lose track amid the overwhelming sensations and he makes you start over, just as he warned. "Back to one." During the restart, two more fingers slide inside you, moving in a torturous rhythm. "You feel how wet you are? This is what happens when you forget who you belong to."

"You’re mine. Your time, your attention, this body. I don’t share it." Spank. Soothe. Tease. "Say it."

"I’m yours," you moan.

"Louder." Another spank.

"I’m yours, Jay!"

When he finally reaches twenty, you are a trembling mess with tears streaming down your face. Jay finally pulls you up and turns you so you are sitting in his lap. His hands stay on your ass, carefully massaging the sore flesh and you press yourself against the hard bulge in his pants, burying your face in his shoulder. "You did so well, my good girl."

Jay lifts your chin, meeting your eyes. For a moment, he just looks at you — really looks at you — taking in your flushed cheeks and tear-streaked face. Then he leans in and kisses you. One hand remains on your sore ass, squeezing gently, while the other slides into your hair. He kisses you like he needs to claim every part of you — hungry, insistent, his tongue tracing your lower lip before sliding inside. You melt into him, moaning against his mouth as you start slowly grinding your hips.

He pulls back just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot below your ear. "Still so needy… even after all that." Then he kisses you again, deeper and hungrier, tongues sliding together with fervor. The hand on your ass slips between your bodies to tease your wet folds with light circles and shallow dips — keeping you right on the edge.

When he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connects you for a second before breaking. "On your knees, princess."

Obediently, you slide off his lap and kneel between his spread thighs. Jay looks down at you, one hand lazily stroking your hair as he frees himself from his pants — his cock springs out, thick, heavy, and already leaking at the tip.

"Open. Tongue out," he says, tapping your lower lip with two fingers. You open your mouth and obediently stick your tongue out. He leans forward and spits directly into your mouth. The warm, viscous saliva lands on your tongue, degrading in a way that makes you shiver. "Swallow that first," he instructs. You swallow while keeping your eyes locked on his. He nods with a satisfied hum. "Now show me how sorry you are for pushing me today."

You start with kisses along his length before dragging your tongue from base to tip. Jay groans, his fingers tightening in your hair, but he doesn't force you — not yet. His thickness stretches your lips as you finally take him into your mouth. He is big enough that you can only take about half before he hits the back of your throat. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking what does not fit in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck… that’s it," he murmurs, tilting his head back for a moment before his gaze returns to you. He doesn't want to miss a single second of this. "Look at me while you suck it."

You do, looking up at him with teary eyes, and the sight makes his cock twitch in your mouth. When you pull back to catch your breath, he slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, leaving strings of saliva connecting you, before guiding you back down. "Yeah, just like that… good girl."

Between bobs, when you pull back to breathe, you say breathlessly, "I’m sorry for distracting you and for Jake being here." Then he guides you down again.

Jay’s hips start moving, pushing a little deeper and testing your limits. Tears continue to prick your eyes from the stretch, but you keep going, hollowing your cheeks and moaning around him.

When he finally gets close, Jay’s grip tightens, his thighs tense, and his breathing becomes ragged. "I’m going to come. Don’t waste it, swallow everything." You nod around him, doubling your efforts and with a deep groan, he comes down your throat — thick, hot pulses that you swallow eagerly, not letting a single drop escape.

He pulls out slowly, a string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to the tip before it breaks. "Open your mouth. Show me."

You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to prove you swallowed everything. “That’s my good girl.”

He helps you up, pulls you back into his lap, and kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. Your hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you that makes Jay groan into your mouth, one hand sliding down to grab your bare ass and guide your movements.

"Still not satisfied? Such a greedy little thing." Even though he just came, his cock is already stirring again, hardening beneath you as your wet pussy slides along his length.

You gasp against his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Jay… I need you so bad."

He answers by kissing you again, but soon pulls back to meet your eyes. "Then take what you want."

You don’t hesitate, not even for a second. Rising on shaky knees, you reach down and align the thick head of his cock against your entrance, and slowly you sink down, gasping at the stretch and every inch that fills you. The lack of a barrier makes him feel impossibly thicker than the last time in his office — hotter, more intimate. The spanked skin of your ass burns as you settle fully against his thighs.

"Fuck," Jay hisses, his head falling back against the couch for a moment as his hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you fully impaled on him. "So wet… so fucking tight like this."

You start moving, rolling your hips in a slow, deep rhythm, the angle letting you feel every ridge and vein raw inside you, pulling broken moans from your throat. One of his hands slips under your shirt to caress one tit while the other stays on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh in time with your movements. The mix of pleasure and stinging burn makes everything more intense.

"That’s right," he growls, thrusting up to meet you. "This is what you wanted all day, isn’t it? My attention. My cock." You lean forward, kissing him messily while you bounce, moving your hips faster.

With a low curse, he wraps his arms around you and suddenly flips you, laying you down on the couch cushions, driving him even deeper which pulls a sharp cry from you.

Now he is on top, pinning you beneath him — one of your legs hooked over his shoulder as he starts thrusting into you with deep, powerful strokes — hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt each time and the lack of a condom lets you feel every raw inch.

Clinging to his back, your nails dig in as the pleasure borders on overwhelming. Jay’s face hovers above yours, his hair damp with sweat falling into his eyes. Rhythm falters for a second as he looks at you, something darker flashing across his face, the jealousy from earlier — the image of Jake leaving your apartment — has not disappeared. "Are you on the pill?"

You shake your head, breathless, barely able to form words between moans. "No, I’m not."

He thrusts harder, hitting deep against your cervix as if to emphasize the point. "Good," he growls, eyes locked on yours. "Actually, fucking perfect. Maybe I’ll knock you up tonight, put a baby in you so you won’t even think about another guy like Jake. You’ll stay right here with me, we’ll have a beautiful family, me, you, and our kids. No more distractions."

The words should have shocked you, but in the heat of the moment — with him fucking you raw, his body claiming yours completely — they only send a fresh wave of arousal through you. Moaning loudly, your legs tightening around his waist. "Jay… fuck—"

He groans at your reaction, his hips moving harder. "You like that idea, don’t you? My cum deep inside you, getting you pregnant so everyone knows you’re claimed." One of his hands slides down to press lightly against your stomach, as if he can already imagine it.

The couch creaks beneath you both, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet noises of him fucking you filling the room. Jay’s earlier irritation fuels every deep thrust, but so does possessiveness — the need to claim you completely after the stressful day. He presses you deeper into the cushions, his hips moving in a way that grinds against your clit with every stroke.

When you finally come, it is intense — your walls contracting tightly around his cock as you scream his name. Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible, and you feel the hot pulses of his cum filling you, thick and warm.

For long minutes, Jay simply holds you — kissing your neck, your jaw, your swollen lips — his cock softening slowly inside you, but as the minutes stretch on, you feel him coming back to life, pulsing against your sensitive walls. "Already?" There is a playful tone in your voice.

"I can’t help it." He moves, pressing one last kiss to your mouth before slowly pulling out. You moan at the loss, feeling his cum start to leak out of you, but his hand quickly reaches down to push it back inside you with two fingers. "Don’t waste it."

He leans back on the couch, stroking himself until he is fully hard again. "Turn around. Hands on the backrest."

You obey, your body trembling as you shift position, kneeling on the cushions, gripping the top of the backrest and arching your back slightly while Jay moves behind you, his gaze fixed on the evidence of the earlier spanking — your cheeks still red with visible handprints — as one of his palms smooths reverently over the heated skin before squeezing firmly.

"Fuck, look at this… Still so red from your lesson." His cock brushes against your entrance before he thrusts deep inside you in one powerful stroke, the new position letting him sink even deeper as the head of his cock presses against spots that make your toes curl drawing a loud moan from you while you grip the backrest tighter as he bottoms out.

Jay starts fucking you with firm, powerful thrusts — deep and deliberate, the couch creaking beneath you both — as every thrust makes your sore ass bounce and the red marks darken even more with the impact, his eyes unable to leave them while his thumbs press into the soft flesh, pulling you back onto his cock repeatedly.

"These marks… they look so good on you." Without warning, he lands a hard, stinging spank on your right cheek, the already sensitive skin making you cry out and clench hard around his cock as Jay groans at the sensation, his hips stuttering for a moment before he resumes his deep rhythm.

He gives your left cheek another spank, making you writhe and moan again as you push back against him desperately despite the burn — or maybe because of it — the mix of pain and pleasure making you even wetter, the previous creampie turning everything obscenely wet and messy.

"That’s it," he praises, smoothing his hands over the fresh marks he just added. "Squirm for me. I love how sensitive you are right here." He gives you one more spank, lighter this time but still enough to make you shudder, and immediately soothes the area with his hands, massaging the sore flesh while he continues thrusting deep and hard from behind.

Jay leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch beside yours while the other reaches down to rub tight circles on your clit. His chest presses against your back, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks between thrusts. "You’re going to take every drop again, princess. I’m going to give you my babies, keep you so full you won’t even think about anyone else."

When you come again — hard, your vision blurring from the overwhelming sensations — Jay follows right behind, burying himself deep with a groan and flooding you with another load of hot cum. He stays inside you for a long time afterward, thrusting slowly through the aftershocks.

Finally, he pulls out carefully and pulls you into his arms, stroking your back in slow, gentle movements. "You’re a mess, princess. Come on, let me take care of you."

He stands up with you in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. Once inside, he turns on the shower, adjusts the temperature, and removes the rest of both your clothes before guiding you under the hot spray with him where the water cascades over you both. Jay takes his body wash, lathers it between his hands, and runs them over your skin — being extra careful around your sensitive ass, massaging the foam in light circles that ease some of the sting.

"Maybe I was a little too rough tonight," he says, his hands moving along your thighs, cleaning away the evidence of the many rounds. "Work stress got to me, and then seeing Jake… I took it out on you more than I should have. You handled it really well, but I’m sorry if it was too much."

You lean back against his chest, letting the water rinse off the soap as you tilt your head to look at him. "It hurt… but it also felt good. In a weird way. I just hated feeling like I was bothering you earlier. I didn’t want to annoy you while you were working. I just… missed you a lot."

After rinsing you, he turns off the shower, wraps you in a towel first, then himself and dries you carefully, paying extra attention to your ass and rubbing some soothing lotion he finds in the cabinet. "There. Better?"

"Much better," you admit, reaching up to touch his face. "Thank you for taking care of me like this."

He leans down and kisses your forehead. "You make it easy to want to take care of you." Pulling you closer, his voice shifting to something even calmer and more sincere. "I don’t know what I’d do without you around. I can’t imagine coming home and not having you here like this. You just… fit. Right here with me."

You hug him tightly, burying your face in his chest. "I feel the same. I always want to be close to you because you make everything feel better."

Smiling against your hair, Jay guides you to the bed and pulls the covers back, lying down beside you to pull you close against his chest. One arm wraps around you securely, his hand rests gently on your ass — not squeezing, just warm and protective over the sensitive skin.

You snuggle even closer, your leg draped over his as exhaustion finally takes over completely. "Stay the night?" you ask sleepily.

"Wouldn’t dream of leaving," His fingers trace lazy circles on your back until your breathing evens out and you fall asleep.

Next morning you stir slowly, feeling the pleasant ache in your muscles and Jay’s heavy arm draped over your waist, his body curled protectively against your back. He feels you waking up and trails lazy kisses along your shoulder before moving up the side of your neck. "Good morning, baby," he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep as his hand slides to your stomach. "Sleep well?"

You turn in his arms, smiling despite the slight soreness when you move, and reach up to brush the messy hair from his forehead. "Yes… thanks to you."

He leans in and kisses you properly — slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes you melt. At this point, he couldn't care less that neither of you had brushed your teeth yet. "You were incredible last night. Let me make it up to you a little more with breakfast."

Jay borrows a pair of your sweatpants that look comically tight on his incredibly nice ass, making you laugh as he models them. In the kitchen, you work side by side like so many mornings before — he cracks eggs for scrambled eggs while you toast bread and slice fruit. Small touches are stolen throughout: a hand on your lower back as he reaches past you, a quick kiss on your temple when you hand him the salt shaker, a playful bump of his hip against yours.

"You’re in a good mood today," you tease, leaning against the counter while he plates the food.

"I can’t help it when I wake up next to you." He sets the plates on the table and pulls you in for another kiss before you both sit down.

After eating, you start getting ready for college and he for the office. Jay kisses you one more time before heading back to his apartment next door to get ready for work. You take a long shower and, once dressed in jeans and a comfortable blouse, you step out into the hallway at the same time he does, looking impeccable in his work clothes.

He quickly pulls you in for a proper goodbye, hands gently cradling your face as he kiss your forehead, lingering there for a long moment. "Have a good day at class. Text me when you’re done." With one last soft kiss on your lips, he pulls away with a smile. "See you later, princess."

College passes in a whirlwind of classes and notes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Jay — the way he holds you, the sweet words, the kisses. He has not sent many messages during the day, which is a little unusual, but you figure he must be busy at work.

When you finally get home in the early evening, you step into the elevator and press the button for the third floor. Just before the doors close, a woman you have never seen in the building before enters, but something about her face seems vaguely familiar.

The woman smiles politely as the elevator starts moving. Curiosity gets the better of you and before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Hi… do you live here? I’ve been in the building for about two months and I don’t think I’ve seen you around."

She nods, laughing lightly. "Yes, I do, but I’ve been away on a work trip. I’m a lawyer and a complicated case kept me out of town longer than expected. I actually got back this morning."

"Wow. That sounds intense… By the way, my name is y/n. Nice to meet you."

The woman’s smile widens. "Nice to meet you too. Jay has already told me about you. He’s mentioned his sweet neighbor a few times."

Your heart flutters with joy — Jay talked about you to the neighbors. It feels special, like proof that you are really becoming a bigger part of his life. "He did? That’s nice to hear."

The elevator dings on the third floor and you both step out together. A small flicker of confusion crosses your mind — she is going the same way — but you don’t think much of it. Maybe she lives farther down the hall.

Then you see Jay standing there and your face lights up immediately. He hadn't texted you all day, and seeing him now makes excitement bubble up inside you. You walk toward him with a radiant smile.

At the same moment, the woman also walks straight up to him. When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him — a deep, familiar, affectionate kiss. Jay’s hands settle on her waist automatically as he eagerly kisses her back.

The world stops.

Your feet freeze mid-step and everything inside you turns cold and numb. It takes a moment for your brain to process what you are seeing, but then the pieces fall into place with painful clarity. That was Jay’s wife. The woman in the Polaroid photo he casually said was his "sister." The late-night calls he claimed were from the office. The feminine body wash he said belonged to his mom. The distant restaurant he took you to on your first date, probably so no one nearby would recognize him. The way the doorman sometimes looked at you with that judgmental expression, like he knew something — he did. All the small inconsistencies you had ignored because you were so blinded by how gentle and attentive he seemed.

Every sweet word, every touch, every promise of "you’re mine" had been built on lies. He was married. His heart already belonged to someone else, and you had been nothing but a convenient distraction from the apartment next door — blind, eager, and so in love with the version of him he showed you that you never saw the truth.

Jay’s eyes meet yours over his wife’s shoulder, and for a fraction of a second, something like panic or guilt flashes across his face. The shock turns into pure pain, making you practically run to your door as you fumble for your keys while hot tears blur your vision.

You lean against the door, sliding down to the floor as sobs begin to escape you. Your chest hurts as if someone had ripped a hole in it. All the cute moments — the kisses, the touches, the date, the bouquet — turn ugly and humiliating in your memory.

You cry hard, knees pulled up to your chest, as disappointment turns into shame for having fallen so completely for the man who made you feel special, desired, and loved… and it was all a lie.

The thin walls allow you to hear muffled voices — his wife asking about his day, the normalcy of their conversation only making everything worse. You press your hands over your ears, trying to block out the sound, but the damage is already done. Your heart is shattered.

The man you had grown so attached to — the one who held you so tenderly after sex, who made you breakfast and promised more comfortable days like that — was someone else’s husband, and you had been the other woman without even knowing it.

thank you for reading.

[gyuuberryy]

red lights

pairing: psycho guard!jungwon x reader

genre: squid game au, thriller, smut

synopsis: you enter the games to escape your debts, only to realise you're being kept alive for someone else's obsession.

warnings (MDNI 18+ only!!) : smut (fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, dirty marking/biting, powerplay, possessive/dom!jungwon), yandere behaviour, obsession, manipulation, stalking, slight coercion, degradation/praise mix, mentions of death and gun, not proofread.

note: this was requested! it's based on the first season since i haven't really watched the other two. this is prolly the fastest ive written a fic hehe i hope you like it!

word count: 3.4k

if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3

you knew you weren’t going to win.

the moment you stepped into the games, surrounded by hundreds of desperate strangers in green tracksuits, you felt it deep in your bones.

you weren’t the fastest. you weren’t the smartest. you didn’t have anyone to form an alliance with, no tricks up your sleeve, no reason to believe you’d be the one to walk away from this alive. you entered because you had no other choice. the debt collectors waiting outside your door had made sure of that.

still, even as the guards shuffled you into the towering playground that would host the first round, you kept telling yourself to stay sharp, to fight. maybe you wouldn’t win, but maybe you could survive. maybe you could make it just a little further than the next person. that’s what survival was here, wasn’t it? not about skill or power, just about making sure someone else fell before you did.

the first game was simple: “red light, green light.” you’d played it as a kid, but here, the stakes weren’t bruised knees and scraped palms. here, the doll didn’t chant instructions for fun. its voice echoed over the yard in a flat, mechanical rhythm, and every time it said “red light,” players who moved even a fraction of a second too late were gunned down where they stood.

the sound of the first gunshot made your stomach flip. the second made your knees buckle. by the third, your heartbeat was so loud you couldn’t hear anything else.

you wanted to cry. you wanted to turn and run, but you knew what would happen if you did.

so, you forced yourself forward on shaky legs, moving in short, stiff sprints every time the doll called “green light.” you could feel the weight of its gaze even when you weren’t moving.

sweat clung to your temples. your limbs ached from locking in place. every step felt like it could be your last.

you were halfway across the field when it happened. you miscalculated the timing, legs too slow and your reaction too sluggish. you stumbled, your foot catching on uneven ground, and you pitched forward as the doll called “red light.” you weren’t supposed to fall. now you were not going to survive this.

you landed hard, your palms scraping against the cracked asphalt. you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the gunfire. your breath caught in your throat as you waited.

but nothing happened.

the silence stretched on, broken only by the distant shuffling of other players. you lifted your head slowly, your heart still hammering in your chest, and looked around. you could feel the doll’s sensor locked on you. you could feel the way the air thickened around you, like the system was holding its breath.

the gun never fired.

you scrambled back onto your feet, legs shaking violently, and forced yourself forward again.

the rest of the game passed in a blur. your ears rang, your vision swam and when the final countdown ended, and the doors slid shut behind the last surviving players, you barely registered that you’d made it. you just stood there, gasping, your hands trembling at your sides.

the others whispered about system glitches. about how sometimes the doll missed a player by accident. about how maybe you were just lucky.

you wanted to believe it too, but you knew it deep down that you hadn’t been fast enough. you hadn’t outsmarted anything. you should’ve died. the doll’s sensor had locked onto you. you saw it.

someone or something had spared you.

you noticed him that night in the dorms, one of the masked enforcers standing near the exit. his uniform was the same as the others, but something about the way he watched you felt wrong. his head tilted slightly when you caught his eye, his posture shitfinh when you moved past him, gaze lingering too long.

it wasn’t just that he was watching. it was the way he was watching. like he was studying you. like he was waiting for something. like he already knew you.

the next day, you overheard two players whispering in the corner, their heads bowed low. they were talking about the guards. about how some of them had special clearances. about how one in particular was known to move differently, to linger in the control rooms when no one else was allowed. a guard connected to the vips. someone with access. someone dangerous.

you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. until it did.

you should’ve died again.

when you broke one of the rules in the second game—a mistake so obvious that a guard should have dragged you away immediately—no one moved. the others stared at you, waiting for the punishment, but none of the guards reacted. none of the guns fired. you stood there, frozen in place, breathing too fast, waiting for the consequences that never came.

it didn’t make sense.

the same masked enforcer—the one who lingered too long—was stationed near the control panels this time. his hand rested near the emergency override key. his head tilted toward you, almost like he was waiting.

almost like he wanted you to see him.

the next game, you slipped during the tug of war, your grip loosening, your body tilting dangerously backward—but somehow, the rope didn’t pull you down. the other team lost their footing at the last second, their weight shifting inexplicably in your favour.

you barely held on and your team barely survived. when you stumbled off the platform, the same masked enforcer stood near the exit, watching you.

you didn’t know his name. you couldn’t see his face. but you knew. it was him. it had to be.

you began to realise you weren’t surviving because you were clever or strong. you were surviving because someone wanted you alive. someone was bending the system around you. someone who didn’t follow the same rules as everyone else.

you caught him again after the fourth game. it was subtle. a moment where his hand brushed the control panel too casually, where the timer extended just long enough to save you, where a guard hesitated when they should’ve pulled the trigger. you saw the way his head turned toward you, as if he could feel your eyes on him, as if he wanted you to notice him.

the rumours grew bigger, spreading around like hot tea. it was about guards with ties to the vips. about ones who didn’t have to follow protocol, who could break the rules if they wanted to.

you had dismissed them before. but now you weren’t so sure.

you didn’t know why he had chosen you. you didn’t know what he wanted. but you could feel it pressing in on you now—the weight of his attention. instead of feeling lucky, you felt more trapped

whatever this was, it wasn’t over. you weren’t safe. you were being kept alive for a reason.

a reason that didn’t feel like mercy.

you noticed little things after that. little cracks. the way his hand would twitch near his weapon when other players got too close to you. the way his breathing would hitch when you stumbled, like the idea of losing you—even by accident—rattled him in a way he couldn’t quite hide. you caught him staring too long, standing too close, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides when someone else spoke to you.

there was something desperate about it which felt very off.

it built and built until you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed answers. you needed to see him. not the mask. not the uniform. the real him.

you waited until the halls thinned out and the guards dispersed, slipping away from the dorms under the buzz of half-working lights.

your bare feet slapped softly against the cool floor as you moved through the empty corridors, your heart pounding hard in your chest with every step. you didn’t know what you were walking toward, but you knew you wouldn’t stop until you found him.

you slipped past the security gates you weren’t supposed to cross, toward the back rooms—the ones you’d heard about in snatches of conversations, where the control feeds were hidden from the players. only select staff with connections to the vips were allowed here apparently.

you caught him in a maintenance room, just beyond the restricted zone. the door was cracked open, just enough for you to see his back, the pink uniform still clinging to him like a second skin.

you stayed frozen in the doorway, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him slowly lift the helmet from his head.

his hair was dark, matted slightly from sweat, sticking to the nape of his neck. he set the mask aside and flexed his shoulders, rolling the tension out of his muscles like he didn’t know you were there.

but he did.

he turned toward you, calm, steady, and met your wide-eyed stare with a small, knowing smile.

you didn’t recognise him. you had never seen his face before. he was just a boy—a stranger.

but it didn’t feel like you were meeting him for the first time. his eyes held something familiar, something that made your skin prickle and your lungs seize. it was the same weight you’d felt pressing on you during every game. it was the same suffocating attention you’d carried since the first round.

“you found me,” he said, his voice soft like it was meant for you alone.

he didn’t sound surprised or worried. it was like he’d known you would come.

your throat went dry, body locking in place. you wanted to run, but you couldn’t make your legs move.

“you’ve been…” you forced the words out, your chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “it was you.”

his smile deepened, a slow curve of his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“you’re safe because of me,” he said simply, as if it was obvious. “i’ve been protecting you since the beginning. i didn’t want you to die.”

your stomach twisted painfully. you didn’t know him. you didn’t understand him. but the pieces had already snapped together in your head, each impossible survival, each glitch in the system, each unspoken warning—he’d been behind all of it.

“why?” your voice cracked, barely audible. “why me?”

he stepped closer, slow, unhurried, like he was giving you time to run, knowing you wouldn’t.

“because you’re mine,” he said, his tone so calm, so sure, it left no room for doubt. “i couldn’t let them take you.”

you could feel the panic building in your throat, but you stayed rooted in place as he closed the distance between you.

his hand lifted to touch your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheekbone. his touch was warm, careful, almost reverent.

“you only made it this far because i wanted you to.”

his words settled over you like a trap snapping shut, but there was no malice in his eyes. only certainty.

you didn’t know what scared you more—the way his touch felt almost gentle, or the way your body leaned into it despite the roaring alarm in your head.

his touch was slow, careful, but not gentle. it felt like the kind of patience that could snap at any second. like the stillness before something dangerous finally broke loose.

his fingers dragged along your waist, slow and deliberate, tracing circles over the thin fabric of your uniform like he was burning your shape into memory. his gloves pressed firmly into your skin, just tight enough to remind you that you wouldn’t be walking away from this.

your breath caught, but you didn’t pull away.

maybe you should have. maybe you could have. but your body didn’t move. you told yourself it was fear. but the truth settled heavier than that. the truth tasted like surrender.

“you don’t even realise what you do to me,” jungwon murmured, his voice low, frayed at the edges. “how long i’ve been watching you.”

“you were… watching me?” your voice came out small and shaken, heart hammering against your ribs.

his hands slid up your sides, pausing just beneath your ribs, holding you there like you were something fragile. his grip tightened, a silent warning, his thumbs pressing in hard enough to sting.

“you didn’t think you were surviving this on your own, did you?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “you didn’t really believe that, right?”

“i…” your throat closed up. “at first i thought i was lucky.”

he let out a dark laugh, his breath hot against your skin. “you weren’t lucky. you were mine.”

his grip moved lower, guiding you backward until your thighs bumped against the edge of the console table. when he lifted you onto the cold metal surface, his palms didn’t leave your body, his hands sliding down to your hips, caging you in place like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“look at you,” he breathed, his voice slipping, his composure fraying. “so perfect. so soft for me now.”

“please,” you whispered, your chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. “i don’t… i don’t understand what you want from me.”

his thumb dipped under the waistband of your pants, teasing the skin there, but he didn’t pull them down yet. he just stared at you, his eyes drinking in every tiny tremble, every shaky breath, every small way your body leaned into him despite yourself.

his other hand came up to cup your face, tilting your chin until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“i’ve seen every part of you,” jungwon whispered, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “you didn’t know i was watching, but i was. always.”

his voice cracked a little on the last word.

“i watched you when you slept. when you cried. when you begged to be saved.” his thumb slid into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “and you always will be. you’ll always be safe with me.”

you whimpered, your lips closing around his thumb without thinking, your breath trembling as you looked up at him.

“you’ll let me take care of you now, won’t you?” his voice softened, but it wasn’t a question.

“yes,” you whispered around his thumb, shame heating your cheeks.

his breath hitched, like that tiny, broken word shattered whatever fragile restraint he had left.

“that’s my good girl,” he whispered, withdrawing his thumb just long enough to grip your jaw, his touch rougher now, his desperation bleeding through.

“you’re always so sweet for me.”

his other hand finally moved, dragging your pants down slow and deliberately, savouring the reveal like he’d waited too long for this moment to rush it. when his fingers slipped between your thighs, he groaned low in his throat at the first brush of your slick against his glove.

“fuck,” he breathed, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your jaw, his voice breaking. “you want this. you’ve always wanted this.”

“i… i don’t know,” you gasped, your hips jerking into his touch.

“yes, you do,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth. “your body knows. you’re already so wet for me.”

his fingers moved slowly at first, spreading your arousal, circling your clit in soft, measured strokes that made your stomach knot and your legs tense. he worked you open with dangerous patience, dragging two fingers through your folds, pushing them inside you until you gasped.

“say it,” he breathed, curling his fingers inside you just right. “say you want me.”

“i…” your voice trembled, your fingers fisting in his uniform. “i want you.”

his breath faltered. “again.”

“i want you,” you whispered, shame and pleasure sinking deep into your bones.

his thumb pressed firm, steady circles over your clit while his fingers curled inside you, coaxing desperate, shaky sounds from your throat. your hips rocked into his touch without thinking, the pleasure drowning out your guilt, your fear, your logic.

“that’s it,” he murmured, kissing along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave it stinging. “just feel me. don’t think. just let me have you.”

“it’s too much,” you whimpered, your walls tightening around his fingers.

“you can take it,” he growled, his breath heavy against your skin.

his breathing frayed as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, his control slipping with every heartbeat. when you tightened around his fingers, trembling, he didn’t stop. he didn’t give you space to pull away.

“mine,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours, his breath hot and uneven. “you’ve always been mine.”

when you came, your body clenching around his fingers, your cry breaking the silence, jungwon’s eyes snapped wide, his pupils blown out like something inside him shattered.

“you’re beautiful like this,” he whispered, dragging his slick coated fingers across your lips. “taste.”

your lips parted before you could think, your tongue flicking over his fingers as he watched you with a trembling, starved gaze.

his composure cracked.

he tugged your shirt over your head with shaking hands, his mouth already moving across your skin, licking, sucking, biting along the soft curves of your chest, his desperation sharp and barely contained.

“the rest of you think i’m just an enforcer,” he whispered against your ribs. “but i have access the other guards will never have. i can override the system. i can pull you from the games whenever i want.”

his mouth worked hot, wet kisses over your stomach, his hands clutching your waist like he could anchor himself to you.

“you’ve heard the rumours, haven’t you?” he breathed, his hips grinding into your thigh. “about the ones who can bend the rules. the ones the vips can’t control.”

“what are you?” you choked out, your heart slamming against your ribs.

he kissed lower, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just above your hips.

“i’m the one who kept you alive,” he whispered. “i’m the one who’s going to keep you forever.”

his voice dropped, “i can break you. i can keep you. and no one can stop me.”

he pressed his cock against your entrance, dragging the tip through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. the slow tease made you writhe, your hands gripping his shoulders, your thighs pressing against his hips like you couldn’t decide whether to pull him in or push him away.

“please,” you breathed, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “please, jungwon…”

“please what?” he coaxed, his voice thick with amusement. “please stop? or please fuck you?”

you sobbed, your hips tilting forward despite yourself. “please fuck me.”

his eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your waist like he wanted to snap you in half.

“that’s my girl,” he growled, dragging you down onto his cock in one slow, brutal thrust that stretched you to the edge of pain. you cried out, clinging to him as his hips began to move in relentless, claiming thrusts.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he groaned, driving into you harder. “so tight around me. you were made for me.”

“you’re too deep,” you gasped, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“you can take it,” he snarled, his teeth grazing your ear. “you’ll take all of me.”

he fucked you harder, each snap of his hips brutal, desperate, like he was trying to fuse your bodies together.

“you’re mine,” he gasped, his voice unravelling. “i’ve waited so long for this. i’ll keep you. i’ll never let you go.”

“you’re not supposed to—” you whimpered, your legs shaking.

“you belong to me,” he growled, dragging your legs higher around his waist, slamming into you so deep you sobbed. “you belong here.”

his rhythm never faltered, every thrust deep and claiming, every kiss desperate and filthy. his cock split you open, the obscene, wet sounds of your bodies echoing through the room.

“you’re so messy for me,” he groaned, watching your slick coat his cock. “so wet, so fucking perfect.”

“jungwon, i can’t—” you sobbed, your body teetering on the edge.

“yes, you can,” he growled, his hips snapping harder. “cum for me. now.”

when your second orgasm hit, your body clenching around him, your release washing over you in sharp, overwhelming waves, jungwon groaned into your skin, his rhythm stuttering as he spilled inside you, his cum hot and heavy, dripping out as he rocked into you through the aftershocks.

his arms stayed locked around you, his lips pressing frantic, desperate kisses to your jaw, your throat, your shoulder like he could carve his place into you.

his voice trembled against your skin, a soft, dangerous promise.

“you’re mine. forever. i’ll keep you safe. i’ll keep you forever.”

and the worst part about all of this was the part that made your stomach twist—you believed him.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[elikajinnie]

P: Baseball Player!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Possessive Behaviour, Emotional Manipulation, Controlling Behavior, Obsession, Stalking Themes, Gaslighting, Mental Health Struggles, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Injuries, Angst, Ex-Lovers, Jealousy, Begging, Degradory Language (Slut), Speeding, Suggestive Content, Violence, Mentioned Use Of Drugs, Power Imbalance, Post-Breakup Trauma.

Synopsis: You left him, his fame, his fury, the love that felt more like a cage. But obsession doesn’t end with goodbye. And when he finds you again, it’s clear that some ghosts don’t knock. They beg.

A/n: I had another more normal plot idea for this, but in the end i went darker :) reblogs and commentary are appreciated!

now playing: DISCONNECTED by chase atlantic

Back then, the world felt smaller under the bleachers.

Ni-ki's hand always found yours first, calloused from pitching, fingertips cold from the Gatorade bottle he never finished. He’d lace your fingers together like it was second nature, like he’d practiced it just as much as his curveball. His hoodie always smelled faintly of sweat and sunscreen, and you’d rest your head on his shoulder, pretending not to hear the way his breath stuttered when you did.

He used to draw little stars on the back of your hand with a pen cap during downtime. Never hearts — always stars. “For luck,” he’d say. “You’re the reason I throw straight.”

You’d tease him for how dramatic he was, and he’d grin like he couldn’t help it, like adoring you was just muscle memory, the same way he knew the weight of a baseball in his palm without looking.

On game days, he made you promise to wear something red. “It’s not even our team color,” you’d argue, but he swore it helped him focus. Said it reminded him where to look when everything else blurred. The crowd, the pressure, the scouts in the stands. He’d pitch like the world was on fire, and when it was over, he’d find you first, always, and pull you into his chest like you were the only reason it was worth winning at all.

Sometimes he’d take you to the field at night, when no one was around. Just the two of you beneath flickering floodlights, with crickets singing in the grass. He’d throw pitches in silence, and you’d sit cross-legged by the dugout, humming whatever song was stuck in your head.

“I want all of this to mean something,” he said once, without turning around. “Not just the games. You. Me. I don’t want to lose it.”

You told him he wouldn’t.

At the time, you meant it.

You were always the calm before his storm.

When his anxiety got bad, when the scouts sat too close, when the headlines read someone else’s name, when his own doubt was louder than the roar of any crowd you were the only one who could quiet it.

He wouldn’t say it outright, not at first. He’d just pace, bouncing the ball off his palm like his thoughts were moving too fast to grip. You learned to catch him before he spiraled — with soft hands on his jaw, with slow reminders whispered into the hollow of his shoulder. “You’re not nothing,” you’d say, again and again. “You’re built for this.” And every time, he’d melt into your arms like he wanted so badly to believe you.

Before every game, he’d hold the baseball out to you with both hands, like it was fragile — like it needed you, too. “Blow on it,” he’d whisper. “You’re my good luck charm.”

It became a ritual. A superstition more sacred than any warm-up stretch. And when he walked onto that mound, just before he’d square his shoulders and breathe deep, he’d always glance over his shoulder and throw you a flying kiss, two fingers brushing his lips. Like a promise. Like he needed you watching to make the pitch count.

You never missed a game.

And after every win — especially the big ones, the hard-fought ones where the crowd roared and his fingers shook from adrenaline he always brought you home. Not to celebrate with teammates or party with boosters. Just to you.

He’d carry you into his room like you were something soft he didn’t trust the world to hold.

No teasing, no rush — just the quiet strength of his arms beneath your thighs and the steady thump of his heart against your chest. You’d bury your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the sharp, familiar scent of cologne and the clean trace of whatever soap he used in the locker room. He always smelled like effort. Like adrenaline barely worn off.

The door would shut behind you with a soft click, and it was like the world slipped away.

He’d set you down gently at the edge of his bed and reach for his duffel bag, pulling out the same wrinkled jersey — the one he swore was lucky, the one that still had grass stains on the hem and a small tear near the collar. He never let anyone else touch it. Except you.

He’d undress you slowly, with the kind of care you didn’t know teenage boys could have, fingertips grazing along your spine, lips brushing your shoulder as if he were memorizing the way your body moved under his hands.

Then, he’d pull the jersey over your head — his jersey — letting it fall over your bare skin like it belonged there. The fabric swallowed you whole, oversized and worn thin, sleeves brushing your fingertips, the number on the back stretching across your shoulder blades. It smelled like him. Like game day and summer and something safe.

You were left in nothing else. Just his name on your back like a brand.

He’d press his forehead to yours, hands resting on your hips, fingers curling lightly in the hem.

“You look better in this than I ever did.”

Then he’d lay you down slowly, like if he moved too fast, you’d disappear. Like this — you in his bed, wearing the symbol of everything he chased was what made it all real.

“You’re everything good,” he’d murmur into your skin. “Everything that keeps me from falling apart.”

He kissed you like worship. Like winning wasn’t real until he was wrapped around you, forehead pressed to yours, your laugh muffled in his duvet, heart beating steady beneath his ribs.

Back then, it was easy to believe that love was enough to carry the weight of his fear. That you could anchor him through anything, even the pressure. Even the expectations.

But pressure has a way of changing people.

The turning point was supposed to be a celebration. He’d won a full scholarship — full ride to a top-tier university, scouts already circling, offers slipping into his coach’s inbox like promises wrapped in gold. People were calling him a future pro. A star. A name to remember.

He should have been happy.

And at first, he was. He lifted you off the ground when the letter came in, spinning you in the hallway of your school like he didn’t care who was watching. He kissed you hard, messy, grinning so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners.

But beneath it — even then — something had already begun to shift.

He started checking his phone more. Refreshing notifications, pacing during lunch. His grip on your hand got tighter, more distracted. His smiles didn’t reach as far.

You told him you were proud. Told him he deserved every second of it.

He nodded, kissed your temple, whispered “Couldn’t have done it without you.” But his eyes were already somewhere else.

The first time he lashed out, it wasn’t even angry, it was desperate. You missed one of his practices to study for an exam, and he showed up at your house that night, eyes red-rimmed and quiet. “I didn’t throw right,” he said. “Coach said my arm’s off.”

You apologized. You told him you’d make it to the next one. He didn’t yell. He didn’t scold. He just stared at you like you'd tugged a thread and everything was starting to unravel. “You’re my balance,” he whispered. “If you’re not there, I fall.”

At first, it sounded sweet. Romantic, even. Like something out of a love story. But then the calls started — late at night, between training sessions, before games, after games.

Where are you? Pick up the phone.

At first, it was easy to chalk it up to nerves. He was under pressure. He just needed reassurance. So you answered. Every time.

You’d lay beside him until 1AM, bathed in the soft glow of his lapm or the hum of his breath against your skin. You’d whisper over and over — “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay.” And he’d cling to you like a drowning man to driftwood, arms wrapped so tightly around your waist you could barely shift. Sometimes he’d fall asleep like that — fists curled in your shirt, jaw clenched even in dreams. Sometimes he wouldn’t sleep at all, just lie there staring at the ceiling, blinking slow like each thought hurt to hold.

You kept holding them for him. That was love, wasn’t it?

But as the matches stacked up, so did your own life. University deadlines. Club meetings. Family obligations. You missed a game and promised you’d be at the next.

But it didn’t matter. That was the beginning of what he called you drifting.

“You’re different lately,” he’d say, eyes narrowed. “I’m tired,” you’d explain. “But you still find time for other people,” he’d snap.

And then it started — the shift.

He didn’t question you anymore. He questioned everyone else.

It stopped being about him needing you, and started being about him needing you away from anyone else.

“Why are you spending so much time with her? She doesn’t even care about your work.”

“That guy from your class... does he always sit that close?”

“You were laughing with him. Was he flirting?”

He'd show up at your study sessions uninvited. Sit in the back, eyes locked on you the whole time. Silent. Waiting. Watching. Afterward, he’d wrap his arm around your shoulder like a claim and whisper against your ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear: “He looks at you too much.”

You’d brush it off. Laugh nervously. Tell him he was imagining it. But the jokes stopped landing. His smile never reached his eyes anymore.

One afternoon, you were walking down the hall with a group from your project, a guy you'd known since middle school beside you, both of you laughing about something stupid and harmless. And Ni-ki was waiting at the end of the corridor, bat still slung over his shoulder from practice, cap low, shoes tapping against the floor.

He didn’t say anything until you were alone.

“Tell me the truth,” he said quietly, boxing you against your car. “Do you like the way he looks at you?”

You shook your head. You tried to touch his arm. He flinched like it burned.

“You smiled at him more than you smiled at me today.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d measured you in moments. Counted seconds. Tallied attention like he was keeping score in a game he refused to lose.

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to brush it off. “Ni-ki, it wasn’t like that—” You reached for his chest — a soft push, a gentle cue to take a step back, to breathe. But he didn’t move.

Instead, he surged forward.

Your back hit the car with a dull thud, his body pressing too close, his hand slamming flat against the door beside your head. The other gripped your waist — not hard enough to bruise, but tight enough to remind you that he could.

He didn’t yell. That would’ve been easier. It was the quiet that scared you.

“Don’t do that,” he said, low. Controlled. Voice rough around the edges. “Don’t push me away when I’m trying to talk to you.” His cologne wrapped around you, sharp and heavy. Sweat clung to the collar of his shirt, mixing with the earthy tang of dirt and grass. It was the smell of post-practice — of games and victory and everything he used to come home from, laughing, pulling you into his arms. But here, this close, it felt suffocating.

“Ni-ki…” your voice wavered.

His eyes searched yours like he was waiting to find proof of betrayal hidden behind your pupils. “I see how people look at you,” he muttered. “You act like it doesn’t mean anything, but you’re not stupid. You know.”

You flinched as his fingers flexed at your waist, grounding you, caging you.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, almost like a prayer, like if he said it softly enough it would make it true again. “You said you’d be there forever. I’m not asking for anything you didn’t already promise.”

But he wasn’t asking. You felt it in the weight of his body, in the tension humming beneath his skin, in the way he stared at you like you were already slipping away and he was trying to pin you in place.

You swallowed thickly, heart pounding. You didn’t want to be scared of him. But in that moment, you were.

And after that day, it kept going like that.

Little things, at first. His hand finding yours too quickly, his grip a little too tight. His eyes always scanning, watching. Not the crowd, not the field, but you. He started glaring at anyone who looked at you for too long — classmates, teammates, even people you’d known since before him. His jaw would clench, fingers twitching like it took everything in him not to storm over and rip their gaze away from you.

You thought it was just stress. That it would pass. He had so much riding on him — pressure, scouts, press and you were supposed to be his calm. His peace. So you kept brushing it off. You told yourself he didn’t mean it. That he was just afraid of losing you in a world where everything else was up for grabs.

But it got harder to pretend.

He started staring from the court when you were late — not angry, not dramatic, just focused. Eyes locked on you like a storm cloud building behind his expression. No smile. No wave. Just waiting.

And after the final whistle, once the cheers died and the team dispersed, he’d always find you. Pull you into some dark corner of the hallway — near the locker rooms, behind the bleachers, anywhere the light didn’t reach and no one could interrupt.

“You were late,” he’d murmur, too calmly. “Where were you?”

You’d try to smile. Laugh it off. “I had a meeting. I ran across campus.”

He wouldn’t laugh.

“With who?”

You’d blink, confused. “What?”

His body would shift closer, blocking the light from behind you, his hand brushing your hip like a claim. “You were smiling when you came in. Was it with someone?”

And that was the pattern.

Every match. Every win. Every time you showed up just a little behind schedule or talked to someone for too long, he’d corner you after like the game didn’t end until you explained yourself. He’d never yell. He didn’t need to. The silence between you would do all the talking. His stare would press like weight on your chest, daring you to lie. And when you swore there was nothing going on, he’d sigh like the world was testing him, rest his forehead against yours, and whisper “Don’t make me feel crazy. I just love you too much. That’s all this is.”

You’d nod. Every time.

Because fighting him felt impossible. Because you still remembered how soft he used to be. Because you still wanted to believe this was love. Even when it started to feel like a cage.

It wasn’t sudden.

The shift crept in like a storm — slow, quiet, inevitable.

He started getting rougher with you, but never in a way you could explain out loud. Never in a way that would look like what it was. Not at first.

His kisses turned punishing — all teeth and desperation, like he was trying to brand you with his mouth. They came without warning; in stairwells, behind buildings, during parties when someone looked at you too long. His hand would grip your wrist, your jaw, your waist — and then he’d kiss you until your breath was gone, lips swollen, head spinning. You’d be left gasping when he pulled away, a thin thread of saliva clinging between you like proof that you were his.

Sometimes, he’d whisper it, too.

And he meant it. Every word.

“You’re mine.”

“Let them fucking look.”

“They’ll never touch you.”

You wore his jersey constantly, not just to his games, but everywhere. His name stretched bold across your back, a silent warning to everyone else. You stopped asking to wear anything else. He stopped giving you the choice.

Then there was the necklace — thin, heart-shaped, engraved with his initials. He gave it to you on your two-month anniversary with trembling fingers and a soft kiss to your throat. Back then, it felt sweet. Intimate. A promise.

But soon, it became a rule.

You weren’t allowed to take it off. Not even once. He noticed when you didn’t wear it — immediately. “What happened to the necklace? Don’t you want people to know you’re mine?”

And when you wore it — when you obeyed — he made sure everyone else noticed too.

Your throat was always marked up, your collarbone covered in bruises that bloomed in purples and reds. You stopped wearing low-cut shirts. Not because he told you not to but because you didn’t want people seeing what he left behind.

When he walked with you, his hand was always on you, hooked around your shoulder, gripping your waist, thumb stroking your hipbone beneath your shirt like he was staking a claim.

There was no such thing as personal space anymore. No such thing as subtle.

Every touch screamed mine.

You told yourself it was passion. That he just loved you too deeply, too fiercely. That this was what it meant to be adored by someone who couldn’t bear to lose you.

But deep down, when you were alone, when your lips were still tender and your skin ached where he’d held you too tight, you started to wonder if love was supposed to leave fingerprints.

Everyone around you told you that you were lucky.

And you’d laugh. You’d smile. Sometimes you'd even nod, pretending to blush, acting like his devotion made you feel cherished instead of chained. But it was fake. It was all fake.

“He’s so obsessed with you.”

“He never even looks at other girls.”

“You’re his whole world. You can see it in his eyes.”

Because they didn’t see what happened when the game ended and the crowd thinned out. They didn’t see the way he pulled you aside, pressing you into walls and whispering questions with clenched teeth and clenched fists. “Why’d you hug him for that long?”, “Were you trying to make me jealous?”, “You like being watched, don’t you?”

They didn’t see how you flinched when your phone buzzed, because if it wasn’t Ni-ki, it would become about Ni-ki. Didn’t matter if it was your friend, your classmate, your cousin — if it wasn’t him, it was a threat.

And yet, to everyone else, he was perfect. Devoted. The golden boy who always had an arm around you, who walked you to class, who kissed you like he couldn’t stand to be apart for even a second. They didn’t see that the kisses were possessive. That his hand on your waist was a tether, not a gesture. That every “I love you” came with a price.

You smiled through it. Laughed at the right moments. Told yourself it wasn’t that bad. You let them call you lucky. Because if they believed it... maybe you could too.

Because you didn’t feel lucky.

But every time someone said “I wish I had someone like him,”

you felt something in your chest tighten.

You tried to distance yourself.

Gently, at first — like stepping backward without making a sound. You started saying no to late-night calls. Told him you needed more time for school, for yourself. Said you were drowning in assignments. Group projects. Exams.

He didn’t like it, but in the beginning, it worked.

He’d grumble, maybe pout, but he let it go. For a few days, he stopped asking where you were every hour. He’d send quiet texts — “miss you”, “don’t overwork yourself” — and it almost felt normal again. Almost made you believe the worst was behind you.

But distance, to Ni-ki, wasn’t space. It was threat. It was rejection in disguise. And it didn’t take long for the quiet to turn dangerous.

He started showing up unannounced, unexpected. Waiting for you outside your class, even when he had practice. Leaning against the wall like he belonged there, like you owed him your time. You’d come out with a backpack heavy from study sessions and see him — arms crossed, cap pulled low, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Didn’t answer my call,” he’d say, before you could even open your mouth.

“I told you, I was studying,” you’d reply gently, trying to walk past him.

His hand would catch your wrist. Not hard. Not painful. Just enough to stop you. To remind you he was still there.

And after that, the distance didn’t help.

Because now, Ni-ki was everywhere.

He waited outside your classroom door like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, pretending to scroll through his phone but his eyes were always on you. Always tracking your every step. If you stopped to talk to someone, he’d look up immediately. Watch. Assess. Wait.

When you excused yourself to the bathroom, he followed.

He wouldn’t come inside, He’d wait just outside the door, standing still in the hallway while others passed by, until you came back out. Then he’d fall into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like breathing.

And when you hesitated for a second, he’d tilt his head, lips twitching into that soft, broken smile you used to love. “You don’t want a ride from me?”, “Did I do something wrong again?”

He started driving you to and from school, even when you didn’t ask.

“It’s not safe to walk alone.”, “I’m already going that way.”

Guilt was always his favorite kind of leash.

You wanted a moment to breathe. But Ni-ki didn’t want breathing room. He wanted control. He wanted to own every inhale you took. Every step you made without him. Every word you said that he didn’t hear first. He didn’t just want your love anymore — he wanted your heart. And no matter how many times you told him you were busy, or tired, or just needed time to yourself, he’d show up anyway. Like silence was a challenge. Like space was something he had to fill with his presence, with his voice, with his hands, with him.

He made sure you were at every one of his matches — unless, of course, you had something more important to do, in his opinion. If you said you had classwork or plans with friends, he’d get quiet. Distant. Cold. And then, sometime later, the questions would come.

“So your school comes before me now?”, “Is that guy from your group project more interesting than watching me play?”

You stopped feeling like his girlfriend, and started feeling like his hostage. A pretty thing he carried in his shadow. A girl with his name on her back and his hand on her throat, her smiles running thinner every day.

And still, no one noticed. Because from the outside, you were lucky. From the inside, you were drowning.

You started pulling away in small, careful ways. Texting less. Avoiding being alone with him. Keeping conversations short, cold. It was the only way you could keep yourself together. But Ni-ki noticed. And he didn’t get angry, not at first. That would’ve been easier to handle. Instead, he got hurt. Or at least, he acted like he did.

“You don’t talk to me like you used to,” he murmured one night, standing outside your apartment with his hands shoved into the pockets of his team jacket. “Did I do something? Just tell me. I’ll fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not without starting something you weren’t ready to finish.

So he stepped closer, eyes wide and pleading. “Do you not love me anymore?” he asked softly, like a child. “Is that what this is?”

Your stomach twisted.

He knew exactly what strings to pull.

“You said you’d be there,” he added, voice cracking just enough to make your chest ache. “You said we’d get through everything together. I believed you. I still do. But you...” He looked down, jaw trembling. “You barely even look at me anymore.”

You tried to breathe. To stay steady. “I’m tired, Ni-ki. That’s all.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was already unspooling — fast, desperate, drowning in a panic he was trying to dress up as devotion. “I can’t pitch right when we’re like this,” he said, stepping closer. “I can’t sleep. I keep thinking… what if you’re leaving? What if someone else is making you laugh the way I used to?” He grabbed your hand, holding it to his chest like a lifeline. “I need you. Don’t you get that? You’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

You wanted to pull away, but he looked so shattered. So raw. And you hated yourself for the way your heart still ached when he looked at you like you were the only person in the world who could stitch him back together.

He leaned in, forehead brushing yours. His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you go… I don’t know what I’ll do. I really don’t.”

That was the moment you realized he wasn’t asking you to stay. He was guilting you into it.

Love didn’t sound like affection anymore. It sounded like obligation.

And still, you stayed.

Because you didn’t know how to leave something that once felt like everything. Because a part of you still wanted to believe the version of him you met under the bleachers — the boy who kissed you like you were the only thing that could quiet the storm in his chest.

But that boy was gone.

And the man standing in front of you wasn’t afraid of losing you. He was afraid of not owning you anymore.

The moment you knew you had to leave him had been building for weeks — thick, silent, suffocating like smoke before fire.

Ni-ki had just signed a deal with a pro league. It was everything he had ever wanted. The dream he’d bled for, cried for, crushed everything else underfoot to reach. And when he told you, he was glowing. Golden. Lit from the inside like the world had finally opened for him. He’d grabbed your hands, eyes wide with excitement. “We did it,” he’d breathed.

We.

Ironic, because that day, tucked into the back of your bag, was your own dream, an acceptance letter from a global company. It offered you a position most people your age could only dream about. High-level position. Out of the country. Out of reach.

Out of his world.

You wanted to tell him. You really did. But then he’d looked at you with that crooked, hopeful smile, the one he still wore like armor.“I’m so glad you’ll be by my side through all of this. I need you there. You’re my number one. Always.”

And just like that, the words died on your tongue. Because what he meant was: You’ll stay. You’ll follow. You’ll fit your life around mine.

And once upon a time, you promised you would. You told him you'd never leave. But you made that promise to a softer Ni-ki. The one who kissed your knuckles and whispered dreams into your skin. Not the version of him that watched you like a threat, clutched your waist like a chain, and called it love.

So, no. You didn’t feel guilty for wanting out.

The chance came sooner than expected — at some overstuffed graduation party in a villa owned by some rich kid you barely knew.

You stayed close. Of course you did. That was the expectation. Staying by Ni-ki’s side like always, sipping from a plastic cup of cheap, watered-down liquor while he laughed with mutual friends. His hand on your lower back, his laugh too loud, his fingers toying absently with the hem of your skirt like you were a lucky charm he’d pocketed.

You waited for a moment when his grip loosened, his attention distracted by a story someone was shouting over the music. You gave him a soft excuse — “Gonna get some air” — and he barely nodded, too lost in his drink to notice the shift in your tone.

The breeze was cool against your flushed skin, and for a moment, you breathed. For yourself.

Then came the guy.

You didn’t recognize him — older, maybe someone’s college-aged cousin. Tall, a little tipsy, smile confident and lazy as he leaned against the railing beside you. “Didn’t think someone like you would be out here all alone,” he said, slurring only slightly. “That guy you were with is a little busy getting shitfaced, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You just glanced out at the pool below, not even looking at him. Disinterest plain on your face. You didn’t even want the attention. Not from anyone.

But he kept talking.

“Can’t blame him, though,” he went on, stepping a little closer. “You’re kind of a prize, aren’t you? Standing out here looking like that…” He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Bet you’re tired of being dragged around. Bet you could use someone who actually sees you.”

You turned to leave. That should’ve been the end of it.

But then his hand moved.

Just a small motion — a fingers-reaching-out kind of thing, aiming for your arm.

He didn’t get the chance to touch you. Because before his hand could even make contact, another hand snatched his wrist mid-air. Tight.

You both froze.

And when you looked up — your heart sinking fast — Ni-ki was standing there.

Silent. Pale. Seething.

His jaw was clenched, eyes unreadable, locked onto the guy like he’d just watched him commit a crime. His grip on the guy’s arm looked brutal — knuckles white, tendons straining, like he had to physically hold himself back from doing worse.

The guy blinked, confused and starting to sober up. “The fuck are you doing?” he asked, trying to yank his arm free.

Ni-ki didn’t answer.

He just punched him.

Fast, vicious, and without warning, his fist connected hard with the guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into the railing, dazed. You gasped — too stunned to move, the cup slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a dull clack.

“Ni-ki, stop!” you shouted, reaching for him, but it was already too late.

The guy swung back, half-blind and half-drunk, and in seconds they were on each other — fists flying, limbs colliding and a blur of rage. People were yelling. Someone dropped their drink. The music kept going like nothing happened.

You barely registered the crowd that started gathering. All you could see was Ni-ki — his face twisted, eyes wild, mouth set in a furious snarl as he shoved the guy down, pinning him, punching again. And again.

Too much.

You stood frozen as fists flew, as grunts turned into snarls, as Ni-ki's fists landed again and again — blind with rage, not even registering the damage he was doing. The other guy tried to fight back, but Ni-ki was relentless, all adrenaline and fury, a storm that had been building for months finally tearing loose.

It took two people — maybe three — to finally drag them apart.

Both of them were a mess — blood streaked across their shirts, knuckles raw and faces bruised. The room was spinning with whispers, gasps, the sound of someone filming on their phone.

And then, the guy wiped his mouth and laughed — low and bitter and mean. “You’re fucking psycho,” he spat, glaring at Ni-ki. Then his eyes cut to you. “You letting him treat you like that, princess? Or are you just another slut who likes the attention?”

The word hit like a slap.

Your heart stopped.

And in a blink — before anyone could react — Ni-ki snapped.

He tore away from the guys holding him, shrugging them off like they were paper, his eyes wild with something unhinged.

“Say that again,” he growled, voice shaking with rage.

“Man, back the fuck off—”

But Ni-ki didn’t back off.

He lunged.

Fists flew again, wilder this time — uncontrolled, messy. Not a fight anymore, but something primal. He tackled the guy to the ground, shouting, screaming, fists slamming down. You could barely make out the words — something about respect, about you, about never letting anyone speak to you like that.

It was too much.

Too loud. Too violent. Too far.

People scrambled around you, shouting for someone to stop him, to call police, to get help. But you just stood there, eyes wide, throat tight, watching the boy you once kissed under the bleachers become someone you didn’t recognize.

People screamed. Not just at Ni-ki now, but at each other — panicked voices, phones in hands, someone calling 911, someone crying. You couldn’t hear any of it clearly. It was like you were underwater, watching it all through glass.

It took five people to pull him off.

Five bodies—teammates, strangers, friends—grappling him off the bloodied figure beneath him, whose face was now barely recognizable. The guy didn’t even fight back anymore. Just groaned in pain, one arm twitching weakly, the other cradled against his chest.

Ni-ki was still snarling, spitting curses, trying to shake them off like an animal backed into a cage.

And you just… stood there, staring at the wreckage of the boy you once thought you’d grow old with.

The sirens came next. Red and blue lights splashing across the villa walls, cutting through the music that someone had finally managed to kill. You didn’t speak. You didn’t follow.

You just watched as the guy — barely conscious, nose shattered, blood soaking through his shirt was lifted onto a stretcher and loaded into an ambulance.

He’d live. But he’d carry the scars.

Then came the police.

Ni-ki didn’t run. He didn’t argue. He just stood there, jaw clenched, still breathing hard, red staining his fists and shirt, and let them cuff him. His lip was split. His eye already darkening. And as they pulled him past the crowd, he looked at you.

Not angry. Not pleading.

Just broken.

You didn’t say a word.

It never made the news.

No articles. No headlines. No scandal.

The pro league Ni-ki had signed with stepped in before the blood had even dried. Lawyers swept in, statements were buried, NDAs signed. The boy? Paid off. Silenced.

They couldn’t afford a scandal tied to their newest star.

But the story didn’t go away for you. Because you were there. Because you knew what that silence cost. Because you couldn’t scrub the sound of fists from your ears, the look in his eyes, the way you’d stopped recognizing his love long before the cuffs ever closed around his wrists.

“Just a misunderstanding.”

“Boys will be boys.”

“Emotions ran high after graduation.”

Ni-ki was free within two days. No charges. No consequences.

Well — He lost you.

And that was the consequence that mattered most.

You didn’t answer his calls. Not the ones that came in late at night from unfamiliar numbers. Not the voicemails, shaky and pleading, that begged you to just “talk to him.”

You blocked him. Everywhere. And then you erased him. Photos, playlists, half-written notes on your phone. That one hoodie he made you wear when it got cold after practice. All of it — gone. You didn’t cry when you packed it up. You didn’t hesitate. Because by the time your fingers closed over the necklace, you realized you hadn’t felt like yourself in a long time.

You weren’t his girl anymore.

You were just you.

But you needed to say something. Not for him but for yourself.

So you wrote a letter. The kind you could never say out loud. A quiet, shaking truth spilled out onto lined paper at 3AM, the last remnants of what had once been love now bleeding out in ink:

I don’t know who you are anymore, Ni-ki. I don’t know when things changed, or when I stopped feeling safe with you, but I do know this — I tried. I tried so hard to hold on to the version of you I first loved. The boy with stars in his eyes and dirt on his jersey. The one who kissed me soft and laughed with his whole chest. But that boy disappeared. And what’s left is someone I don’t recognize, someone I’m afraid of. I’m leaving. For good. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let me go. And I’m done asking for permission to breathe. This is me choosing myself for the first time in too long. And if there’s anything left in you that still cares for me, even a little. Let me go. Goodbye, Ni-ki.

You folded the letter. Slipped it into an envelope.

Inside his mailbox, you placed the letter, the crumpled jersey — the one you used to wear proudly like armor — and the necklace he gave you on your second month together. The one that had felt like a promise. Now a collar, a chain.

And then you left. Without ceremony. Without goodbye. You took your suitcase, your silence, and your second chance, and you left.

The airport was a blur. The terminal loud. The lights too bright. But your lungs felt clear for the first time in years. No more waiting at locker rooms. No more bruises dressed as kisses. No more “I’m sorry”s that sounded like threats. Just you. And a future you didn’t have to earn by staying small.

Somewhere, Ni-ki would open that mailbox. He would read those words. He would hold the necklace. But you wouldn’t be there. And for once, he wouldn’t know where to find you.

You made it.

The company you’d taken the leap for? You thrived there. Climbed fast. Faster than anyone expected. The office became your world with sleek glass windows, buzzing deadlines, coffee-fueled ambition. People respected you. Listened when you spoke. Your name meant something in boardrooms and business deals.

You had become what they called a career woman. Sharp. Independent. Untouchable. You filled your life with projects and flights and noise. You lived on your own terms. No more checking your phone every ten minutes. No more needing permission to exist. The mental chains were gone, rusted remnants of a past you refused to wear.

But love? You never really found your way back there. You tried. God, you tried. There were dates. Setups. Coffee catch-ups that turned into dinners, into maybe’s, into almosts. And they were all… fine. Nice, even. But none of them moved you. None of them made your chest ache the way his name once did. None of them were Ni-ki.

None of them looked at you like you were their oxygen. And maybe that was the problem.

Eventually, you stopped pretending. You poured yourself into work instead. Pushed the idea of romance to the edges of your life, somewhere between vacation days and unread emails. People called you focused. Driven. Strong. But they didn’t see the way your fingers paused on the remote every time his name came on TV.

Because he made it too.

He was different now. Older. Sharper. Still beautiful in that reckless, untouchable way. You’d watch him pitch, watch the way his jaw set before each throw, the way he exhaled like it was all still life or death.

Riki Nishimura. Pro league star. A face you couldn’t avoid if you tried.

Interviews. Highlight reels. Jerseys sold out. His name, once inked across your back in high school, now lit up on stadium scoreboards across the country. And sometimes, late at night, you’d catch a game playing on the sports channel, the commentators’ voices drowned out by the hum of your thoughts and you’d just… watch.

And you never changed the station.

Because ever since the first time you’d spotted Ni-ki on the TV — all bright stadium lights and sharp focus, the crowd chanting his name — there was one thing you couldn’t unsee.

The necklace.

That fucking necklace.

The one you left in his mailbox the day you walked away from him, folded next to the letter that said goodbye.

He wore it. Not under his jersey. Not tucked away. Over it. Always visible. Bold. Meaningful. And before every pitch, without fail he would kiss it. A quick, subtle gesture that to anyone else might have looked like superstition, a silly habit from high school. But you knew better. You knew it was intentional. You knew exactly what it meant. Because it wasn’t just habit. It wasn’t luck. It was you.

And every time his lips touched that necklace, just before he drew back and hurled the ball across the plate, he stared straight into the camera. Like he knew you were watching. Like he was aiming right at you. It made you stiffen. Every. Single. Time.

You’d be halfway through writing an email, sipping cold coffee on your couch, and the game would be on in the background — his game — and then you’d see it.

The way he stood on the mound, chest rising slow. The way his fingers brushed the chain. The way his eyes, those same eyes that once undressed your soul flicked up as he kissed the charm and held it there for a beat longer than necessary.

You’d feel it deep in your chest. That ache. Not longing. Not guilt. Just… that sharp, sick pull of memory. Of the boy who ruined you still holding onto something you gave back.

And somehow, despite everything, part of you still watched. Because he still made you feel like a ghost haunting your own life.

You wanted to scream at the screen. You wanted to throw the remote.

You wanted him to let it go — let you go. But he didn’t. Not then. Not ever. Because Ni-ki, even now, with fame stitched into his skin and the world chanting his name, still couldn’t let go of the only thing he ever thought was truly his.

A weekend. A gift. A smile. Nothing more.

You packed light. Told no one, not even your coworkers, that you were flying home. You didn’t post about it. You didn’t check the local news, or his team’s schedule.

But still… there was a part of you that hoped. A quiet, treacherous part. That maybe he was still there.That maybe he hadn’t left yet.

You didn’t say it out loud. Not even in your own head. But when the cab rolled past the old gas station he used to stop at after practice, you stared too long out the window. When you passed the high school baseball field, your chest went tight, not from nostalgia, but from recognition.

You wondered if he still trained there. You wondered if he still stood on the mound after dark, pitching into nothing, haunted by ghosts only he could name. You wondered — for just a breath — if he ever looked into the crowd and imagined you sitting there again. Because part of you wanted to believe he remembered everything.

No.

You shook the thought from your head, sharp and fast, like a reflex.

You weren’t here to hope. You weren’t here to dream.

You were here for your friend — for one night, one celebration, one brief step back into a place you used to know. That was it. There were no fantasies waiting to unfold, no old wounds waiting to be reopened. You were older now. Wiser. Sharper. You had carved a life without him, one made of clean edges, firm boundaries, and no more “what if”s.

So no, you told yourself as you walked up the front steps of the party — you weren’t here for him. And you wouldn’t look for him. You wouldn’t check every street, every shadow in the corner of your eye for his face. You wouldn’t scan the crowd for someone taller than memory, broader in the shoulders, eyes darker than they used to be.

You wouldn’t ask anyone if he was still in town. You wouldn’t go near the field. You wouldn’t stay longer than the weekend. You would laugh. Toast your friend. Smile like someone untouched by old ghosts. And then you’d leave — just as quietly as you came.

You had to.

Because you knew what Ni-ki did to you. And you weren’t sure you’d survive another kind of love from him.

So you fixed your expression, smoothed down your clothes, and stepped inside.

And for a while it was okay.

Better than okay, even.

You had fun. Real fun. Reuniting with people you hadn’t seen in years, laughing over old stories, clinking drinks together under string lights.

You were careful. You kept the conversation light — stories, travel, career talk. You danced around any questions that flirted too close to the subject of relationships. You smiled when someone asked if you were seeing anyone, gave a noncommittal shrug, and redirected the conversation.

No one brought him up. No one said his name. And you allowed yourself to relax.

Which was a mistake.

Because you had taken your guard down, just enough. Enough to let a friend pull you in for a picture, arms around each other, mid-laugh. A harmless moment. A beautiful one, even. And you hadn’t thought twice about it.

But they posted it.

Tagged you.

You didn’t even notice until hours later, when you stepped outside for air, your chest light with the kind of buzz that only alcohol brought on.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. A notification.

[you’ve been tagged in a photo]

You opened it without thinking.

The photo was harmless. Beautiful, even. A version of you that looked happy. Present. Alive. You scrolled through the likes — a habit you didn’t know you still had. And then you saw it.

Riki Nishimura.

Your thumb froze mid-scroll.

That couldn’t be right.

But there it was, clear as day, his name sitting quietly among the others who liked the photo of you. And then — as if the universe couldn’t help itself — another notification dropped:

Riki Nishimura (@rikinishimura) has requested to follow you.

Your stomach dropped.

You stared at the screen like it had betrayed you. Like your friend had. Like you had — for lowering your walls for even a second.

“Oh no,” you whispered.

Because this wasn’t a coincidence. This wasn’t passive.

He saw you.

And now, he wanted in.

You didn’t hesitate.

You turned your phone off. Fast. Like it might explode in your hand if you looked at it any longer.

You then slipped back inside the house, weaving through the crowd, pretending to get another drink until you made it to the front door. You left your half-finished cup behind, didn’t even say goodbye.

You weren’t going to overstay your welcome and you definitely weren’t going to wait around in case he decided to make an appearance. Because if he had seen the post — liked it that fast, found your private profile that fast, then he could easily find the rest. Find you.

You didn’t want to find out how far he’d go now.

You got in your car and drove. Fast. Silent. Knuckles white around the steering wheel. The streets of your hometown passed in a blur. Too familiar. Too dangerous. By the time you pulled into your parents’ driveway, your heart was still hammering. But luckily — blessedly — the house was empty. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, something about a road trip they’d been planning for months. You didn’t remember the details.

All you knew was: you had the house to yourself.

You locked the doors. Twice.

You took a shower — water too hot, too fast, like it could wash off the way your skin suddenly itched with awareness. Like you could scrub away his name.

You didn’t cry, you just got out, dried off, and curled up in a blanket with a movie playing in the background. Something light. Meaningless. Something with no romance, no tension, no eyes that lingered too long.

You tried to breathe. But every so often, your eyes flicked to the corner of the room. To your phone. Still dark. Still silent. And even though you told yourself not to, you wondered if he was already looking for you.

You curled deeper into the couch, the movie flickering across the screen in bursts of color you weren’t really seeing.

But your mind wouldn't stay still.

You told yourself he couldn’t know where you were. That a like and a follow request weren’t a threat. That he wouldn’t show up. But your body remembered something your mind didn’t want to say out loud.

It hit you like a whisper.

A flash of cotton candy and laughter. The blaring music of cheap rides and blinking carnival lights.

You were still with Ni-ki back then. It was supposed to be a carefree night. A carnival had rolled into town, the kind that took over the whole parking lot by the mall. You hadn’t planned on going, but a friend had begged, and you’d needed a break, just one night to yourself.

You hadn’t told him.

Not because you wanted to hide, but because your phone had died halfway through the afternoon, and you figured it could wait. Just one night. A few hours. He had practice. He was busy.

He’d be fine.

But you should’ve known better.

You didn’t see him at first. You were in line for the ferris wheel, chatting with your friend, head tilted back as the lights spun overhead.

Then you felt a hand curling gently around your elbow. You turned and saw him standing there, hoodie pulled low, jaw tight. Not angry. Just... calm. That kind of calm that came right before something cracked.

“I’ve been calling you.”

You held up your phone like it was a shield. “It died. I was gonna—”

“Who are they?” he asked, eyes flicking to the guy beside you — your friend’s cousin. He hadn’t even said two words to you.

“They’re just—” you started, already raising your hands in defense.

“You didn’t think to tell me?” he interrupted, voice sharp but low, his eyes flicking only once to your friend beside you, and then back to you like they were the threat and you were the betrayal. “You didn’t think I’d worry?” he continued, tone cooling like he was reigning himself in. “You just disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear,” you said, trying to laugh it off. Trying to reach for his hand, to calm him the way you always did. “My phone died. I was going to text you when I got—”

But he didn’t take your hand. Instead, he stepped closer, close enough that your breath caught, and rested his hand on the small of your back — not like a boyfriend pulling you in, but like a handler claiming what was his. “I looked at your location,” he said flatly.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“You forgot to turn it off.”

And that was how he’d found you.

No call. No message. No warning. Just your dot on his map, blinking like a target. He’d tracked you like it was natural. Like it was his right.

You felt the unease slither into your chest, but you pushed it down. You told yourself it was sweet. That he cared. That he was just scared. So you tried to soothe him again — voice soft, placating. “Ni-ki, it was just an hour. I wasn’t trying to hide—”

His lips dipped to your ear before you could finish, breath warm, tone like velvet pulled over a blade.

“You really disappointed me tonight.”

You froze.

“You know I don’t like not knowing where you are,” he whispered, quiet enough that your friends wouldn’t hear over the carnival noise. “You know what it does to me.” His hand at your back flexed slightly. “You say you love me,” he continued, still murmuring, “but then you go running around like I don’t exist. Like I’m just some guy you can forget.”

You swallowed. Hard. Eyes on the crowd. On your friends, oblivious. “I didn’t forget you,” you whispered back, voice tight. “You know I don’t.”

“Then act like it,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His were steady. Unblinking.

And you nodded. Like always. Because what else could you do?

He kissed your cheek after that — soft, sweet, like none of it had happened and slipped his fingers into yours.

He walked you to his car. You didn’t say goodbye to your friends. He said you were tired. That you had somewhere to be.

And later that night, you told yourself it was love. That it was just him loving you too much. That maybe… this was just what forever looked like.

You lay in his bed, wrapped in his arms, his breath even against the back of your neck, and you tried to drown out the part of you that felt small. You tried to convince yourself that needing space was selfish. That being followed was protective. That love meant bending. That boundaries were optional when someone cared enough to break them for you.

But now — years later, curled beneath a blanket with a long-forgotten movie flickering in the dark you saw it for what it really was.

That night should have been a red flag. A screaming, blood-colored warning sign. Because love shouldn't feel like surveillance. Love shouldn’t come with GPS coordinates. Love shouldn’t feel like guilt when you forget to text back. Love shouldn’t make you flinch when you laugh too long with someone else.

You swallowed, throat dry as the memory burned slow through your chest, filling all the places you still hadn’t cleaned out.

It took a long time before your body let go, before the weight of exhaustion finally dragged you down. You don’t know how long you were asleep when the doorbell ripped through the silence.

Rapid. Aggressive. Too many times in a row.

You bolted upright, heart already pounding in your throat. Your skin prickled with cold sweat, chest tight as your mind tried to catch up with reality. You blinked at the old alarm clock on the bedside table, squinting through the darkness.

2:47 AM.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes, your head thick and fuzzy with fatigue and leftover tension. Your body moved on autopilot, legs heavy as you stumbled downstairs in the dark, each step creaking louder than you remembered. At first, you didn’t open the door. You just peered through the peephole.

No one.

The porch light cast eerie shadows on the sidewalk, the empty driveway, the unmoved welcome mat.

Nothing.

Still, something itched at the back of your neck. You crept over to the kitchen and, with slow fingers, peeled back the curtain just enough to peek out the window.

Still nothing.

No car. No silhouette. Just silence.

You let out a slow breath. Maybe a prank. A drunk kid. Someone at the wrong house. You hoped. But something made you open the door anyway. Just a crack, enough to glance at the porch, to check if anything had been left for your parents.

And that’s when it happened.

A hand snatched the door handle from the other side.

You gasped as it was ripped from your grasp, the door yanked open fully with a force that sent your heart straight into your throat.

And standing there — tall, broad, shadowed under the porch light — was Ni-ki.

His face wasn’t furious. It was desperate.

Red-rimmed eyes locked onto yours like they’d been searching for hours. His hair was a mess — flattened in places like he’d been tugging at it, the way he used to do when he couldn’t calm down. His face looked thinner, more hollow. And he was still in uniform. His baseball uniform. Dirt and grass smeared across the white fabric, clinging to his legs, streaked across his chest like he hadn’t changed, hadn’t showered, hadn’t done anything except get in the car and drive straight here.

His cleats were still on — muddy, scuffed, grinding into your parents’ porch, dirtying up the ground with every trembling step forward.

He looked like he hadn’t slept. Like he hadn’t eaten. Like he hadn’t breathed properly since he saw your face again. And he was staring at you like you were the only thing holding him upright.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. All the air in the world seemed to tunnel between your ribs, caught just beneath your lungs.

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out at first.

Then, finally, a whisper.

“Are you really here?”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t trust your voice. You just gave the smallest nod, a barely-there confirmation that, yes, you were standing in front of him. That you existed. That he hadn’t hallucinated the photo. That you were real. But even as you nodded, your fingers were slowly curling toward the edge of the door — toward the handle.

You were trying to figure out how fast you could grab it. How quickly you could slam the door before he could stop you. Before he could reach you.

But it was like he read your thoughts.

His body jerked forward suddenly, his legs trembled as he stepped past the threshold, both hands gripping the sides of the doorway like he couldn’t keep himself upright. Like he’d collapse if he let go. His eyes were glossy. Wide. Brimming with tears that clung to his lashes like they had nowhere else to go. And then the words came. Rushed. Tumbling. Blurred around the edges with panic and pain.

“I missed you,” he gasped, like the words had been clawing their way out of his throat for years. “I missed you so fucking much I thought I was going insane.”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. He was unraveling right in front of you.

“Since you left—” he choked, “—I haven’t slept right. Haven’t breathed right. I can’t focus when you’re not there. I tried everything. Therapy, distractions, practice, God—” He wiped at his face, his palm streaked with dirt. “I’d go out on the field and see your face in the crowd even when I knew you weren’t there.” His voice cracked harder, falling apart. “I thought maybe if I kept playing, if I kept winning, it would get easier.” He swallowed, and this time when he looked at you, there was something terrifyingly honest in his eyes. “And I tried to forget. I swear I tried. I tried everything,” he said, wiping at his eyes, smearing the tears across his cheeks. “But nothing worked. Not the parties. Not the interviews. Not even when the headlines said I made it.”

He looked up at you then and something behind his eyes shattered. “I only stopped thinking about you when I started taking pills.”

You swore your heart stopped.

“I figured it out. That was the trick,” he said, with a hollow laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s when I saw you again. In dreams. In hallucinations. You’d talk to me. Smile. Tell me it was okay. Tell me you still loved me. Even if it wasn’t real, it was better than nothing.”

You stared at him, throat tight, fingers still frozen near the door.

He took one final step in, just inside. Not touching you. But closer.

“So I kept taking them,” he whispered. “Even when they told me to stop. Even when my hands started shaking before every game. Because seeing you felt better than being clean and feeling nothing.” And finally, his voice broke into something soft and raw and terrifyingly small. “Without you… I’m just gone.”

You stood there, jaw trembling, every breath shallow, every part of you aching to say something. But nothing came out right. “Ni-ki,” you said, voice barely a whisper, “you can’t—this isn’t—” Your throat closed. You shook your head, blinking fast, heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. Every word tangled before it could even leave your lips. “You shouldn’t be here,” you tried again. “You can’t just show up like this, you—this is not okay, Ni-ki.”

But he didn’t respond. He just watched you. Hung on to every word like it was oxygen, as if even your rejection was better than silence.

“Please just stop,” you murmured. “You need to go. You need to—I can’t do this with you again.”

And before you realized it, you were backing up.One slow step at a time. And he followed. Eyes locked on yours. No words. No threat.

Just… devotion. Twisted and heavy and far too close.

But he kept moving with you, silent, his cleats dragging dirt into the hallway, scuffing the floorboards. His body was trembling, soaked in sweat, in desperation, in memory.

“I’m not the girl you remember,” you said, almost frantic now, backing through the kitchen, voice shaking. “I’m not her anymore. I left. I left for a reason. You can’t show up like this—like it’s still your right to find me, to follow me, to—” Your heel caught on the corner of the carpet and you stumbled. Caught yourself on the kitchen counter, fingers clutching the edge like it might save you.

And still, he followed. He didn’t reach for you. Didn’t raise his voice. He just kept coming.

“I’m not yours,” you said, louder now, trying to force the words out before you lost your nerve. “I’m not yours, Ni-ki. Not anymore. You don’t own me. You never did.”

And still, he didn’t stop. He was trailing behind you like gravity. Like you were the center of something he couldn’t escape. And it was all too quiet. That was the worst part — the silence. The way he didn’t argue. Didn’t yell. Just watched you unravel. And somehow, that was more terrifying than if he had screamed. Because you didn’t know what he was going to do next. You didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was here. And he wouldn’t stop following you.

Your back hit the side of the dining table. You flinched, steadying yourself with trembling hands, heart stuttering wildly behind your ribs. You stared at the boy you once loved, the man he’d become, and the empty space inside him that looked a lot like you. “Ni-ki,” you breathed, “please—just stop.”

He didn’t.

You backed around the table slowly, feet scuffing against the hardwood, trying to keep something — anything — between you. “This—this isn’t love,” you said, voice cracking now, trying to stay steady, to stay in control. “Whatever this is, it’s not what we used to have. It’s not healthy, and it never was.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t answer. Just kept following. Silent. Breath uneven. Shoulders tense. Like your words weren’t even registering or like he’d already decided they didn’t matter.

You reached the other side of the kitchen, the cool edge of the counter brushing your back. You could feel yourself trembling now. Fully. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, voice rising. “I’m sorry for the way things ended. I’m sorry for the road you went down. I’m sorry you hurt. But this? This is not my fault anymore.”

Still, he said nothing. Still, he kept walking. Step by step. Quiet. Purposeful.

“Say something!” you snapped, desperation cracking out of you like thunder. “Anything. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me why you think this is okay. Tell me what you want—just talk to me, Ni-ki!”

But he didn’t. He just stared at you like you were slipping further away, like you were glass and he didn’t know how to hold you without shattering something. And every time you moved, he matched your pace.

You couldn’t take it anymore. With your heart in your throat and your limbs moving faster than thought, you turned and ran.

Up the stairs. Two at a time. You heard him behind you, footsteps heavy, breathing ragged as he followed without hesitation. You didn’t stop to look back. You didn’t call his name. You just ran the way you should have years ago.

You reached your bedroom, heart pounding, and slammed your hand against the door to shut it but before it even closed halfway, his hand caught it.

You gasped — a strangled sound caught between fear and disbelief as Ni-ki shoved it open, the force of it sending you stumbling backward.

You screamed. Loud. Raw.

It tore from your throat as you backed away, palms out, as if that would stop him. But he was already inside. Already past the door. Already in your space — again.

“Get out!” you cried, voice splintering. “Get out!”

But he was already inside. Breathing hard. Eyes wide. His whole body shaking as he stepped into your space like he couldn’t bear to stay away. “You don’t understand,” he said, voice cracking open, “I love you. I still love you. I never stopped. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted—the only one I could ever want.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes, but he kept going, his voice rising, trembling.

“I wake up in the middle of the night and I can still feel your hands on me. I swear to God, I can still smell you sometimes—like you’re right there, right beside me.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, unraveling in front of you. “I’ve tried everything. Everything, baby. But no one is you. No one even comes close. I see other people and I feel nothing. I touch them and it makes me sick.”

You pressed yourself farther away as he came closer.

“I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care how long it’s been. I just want you. Your voice, your skin, your laugh... I want to taste your lips again, I want to feel you again. Please.”

And then... his tone shifted. Softer. Slower. Dangerous in its sweetness.

“You said you loved me. You said forever. You promised.”

You swallowed.

“That wasn’t—”

“You promised,” he said again, stepping closer, eyes narrowing in conviction. Like he truly believed your past bound you to him. Like your old words still had chains around them.

“You left,” he whispered, voice trembling. “And I let you go once. I didn’t chase you. Not the way I wanted to. I respected your space.”

You stared at him.

Respected?

“I let you have your little career,” he said with a broken smile, too wide, too thin. “But tell me the truth... are you really happy without me?” You opened your mouth, but he kept talking, his words picking up speed again, wrapping around your ribs.

“No one will love you like I do. I know that. You know that! You felt it. I’d give you everything. And you’d throw it away for what? A job? A clean break?”

Your breath came in short, frantic gasps now, body screaming for an exit, for space, for him to stop.

“But maybe,” he murmured, “you don’t care anymore. Maybe you forgot what we had. Maybe you just threw it all away—like it meant nothing.”

You shook your head quickly, voice caught in your throat.

He moved closer, and your body flinched before you could stop it. “I would’ve burned the world for you,” he said, heartbreak bleeding into resentment now. “And all I ever wanted was for you to stay.” His voice broke again, somewhere between a sob and a snarl. “So tell me baby,” he said, voice low, lips trembling, “how was I supposed to survive you leaving?”

Your breath shuddered in your chest, hands raised instinctively as if that would shield you from the storm rising in his eyes. “I’m not responsible for your survival, Ni-ki!” you shouted, your voice shaking but firm. “I loved you. I gave you everything, but you twisted it! You crushed it! And then you blamed me when it broke!”

Something behind his eyes snapped.

And then—he moved.

Fast.

You barely had time to react before he grabbed your arms, too tightly, and crowded you to the wall. You gasped, your back hitting the plaster with a dull thud. His face was inches from yours, eyes wild, breath ragged. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the erratic thrum of his pulse — too fast, too hard, too close.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, shaking his head like a child being told their favorite dream wasn’t real. “Don’t say that like I didn’t try. Like I wanted to lose you.”

You opened your mouth, but your words caught. Because just as fast as he’d snapped — he collapsed.

His grip loosened.

And then, suddenly, he dropped.

Down to his knees.

Arms wrapping tight around your hips, his forehead pressing against your thighs, shoulders shaking violently as the sobs tore out of him. “Please—” he choked, voice muffled against the soft cotton of your pajama pants. “Please don’t push me away. Please—just for a second. I can’t—I can’t be without you.”

You stood frozen.

His arms clung like a vice around your waist, his body folding in on itself, rocking as the tears came hard and fast — ugly, gut-wrenching sobs that soaked through the fabric where his face was buried. “Please,” he cried again. “I’ll fix it. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just—don’t leave again. I swear I can’t go through it twice. I can’t—” His words tangled, cut off by a broken breath. His grip tightened, desperate, fingers curling into the fabric like you were a lifeline. “I wake up every night reaching for you,” he choked out. “Do you know how empty I’ve been? How hollow everything feels without you in it?”

You stared down at him, paralyzed.

This wasn’t the confident, golden boy on magazine covers. Not the rising star who kissed cameras and made stadiums scream. This was a boy broken by his own obsession. Drenched in sweat and dirt and grief, clinging to you like something he’d been chasing for far too long.

His shoulders shook as he sobbed against you, arms wrapped tight around your waist, muffling apologies, pleas, half-spoken fragments of the version of you he still carried in his head. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered through the fabric. “I don’t know how to be without you. I don’t want to.”

You hesitated. Then, slowly you placed your hands on his arms. “Ni-ki…” you said softly. “Let go.”

He didn’t. Not at first. His grip only twitched — reluctant, scared.

But eventually, you pushed a little firmer, easing him back.

And he let go.

Just enough to fall backward onto his heels, blinking up at you like you’d stolen the ground from beneath him. His face was blotchy, streaked with tears, bottom lip trembling like a kid about to be left behind.

You were taken aback by the sight. By how small he looked. How pathetic.

You didn’t say anything. And that silence — that tiny pause — was all it took.

Suddenly, he surged up, fast and unsteady, arms reaching before your voice could catch up. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you in too fast.

And suddenly his mouth was on yours, just as his other arm slid around your waist, under your pajama top, fingertips pressing against the small of your back like they remembered the map of your body by instinct.

You opened your mouth to protest but that only deepened the kiss.

He kissed you like he was drowning. Like he believed if he clung hard enough, kissed deep enough, you’d come back.

And worse, your body responded. Your fingers, traitorous and aching, clenched into the fabric of his jersey, tugging him closer as your lips moved with his — automatic, confused, familiar.

It was heat and memory. Hunger and heartbreak. Years of silence crashing together in a moment you hadn’t meant to create.

And eventually — breathless, shaken — you both pulled back. Just far enough to breathe. Just far enough to feel it.

His forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath spilling into your mouth, warm and shaky. Your lips brushed with every inhale, every exhale — like even air had become too intimate now, shared and stolen between you.

You couldn’t think. Could barely blink. Your heart was pounding, your hands still gripping his shirt like he was the last real thing you had.

His eyes searched yours — red, glassy, wrecked — and he whispered your name like a prayer, like an apology, like a need.

And somehow, before you even realized what you were doing, you kissed him again. Slower, this time. Softer. Like maybe if you closed your eyes, you could pretend none of the pain had happened. Like you could rewind the world to a version of him you once trusted.

He exhaled shakily into your mouth, his hands fisting the back of your pajama top, like he didn’t know how to let go even if he wanted to.

The kiss deepened, again, on instinct. Because your body still remembered. Because your heart still ached.

Somewhere along the way, words stopped working. You weren’t sure what was said. Only that eventually… you let him stay.

He showered. You gave him a clean set of clothes — old ones, left behind from before. They still fit. Too well.

He didn’t speak much after. Just moved slowly, like he was afraid any wrong word would make you disappear again. When he finally crawled into your bed, it wasn’t with the same fire he’d arrived with.

It was quiet. Fragile. Desperate in a new way.

He laid beside you, then gradually shifted until his head rested on your stomach, arms circling your waist like a shield. Like if he held on tight enough, the nightmares would stay away.

You didn’t sleep right away.

One hand reached for his hair, almost without thought. Fingers brushed gently through the damp strands, and he leaned into the touch like muscle memory. The steady weight of him against you was too familiar.

But for a moment, just one…

You let yourself breathe.

And sometime after, sleep found you both.

Morning came too bright.

You woke to his weight still wrapped around you, his breathing heavy and even. There was something almost childlike in it, how tightly he clung, how peaceful he looked, like the storm hadn’t touched him in his sleep.

You slid out carefully, moving slow enough not to wake him, padding quietly down the stairs.

The television was on from the night before, volume low. You moved to shut it off until something on the screen made your fingers freeze.

Breaking Sports Update: Nishimura Riki Abandons Match Mid-Game

Your heart dropped.

You turned up the volume.

The announcer’s voice was calm, but laced with speculation.

“In a shocking turn of events during last night’s game, rising pitcher Riki Nishimura left the field during a seventh-inning break and never returned. Sources confirm he left the bench and disappeared before the inning resumed. The team ultimately suffered a loss without their star player, sparking controversy and concern about his current condition.”

You sat down slowly.

The pieces clicked together like glass shattering in reverse.

He hadn’t just shown up at your door in uniform out of habit or stubbornness.

He’d walked off the field. He left — in the middle of everything.

Just to find you.

And his team… lost.

You stared at the screen, numb. Suddenly the way he looked last night made sense. He hadn’t even changed. He’d just run.

Straight off the mound. Straight to you.

Bonus:

The break started the way it always did, sweat dripping from his temples as he strode back to the dugout, teammates clapping his back, someone tossing him his water bottle. His chest heaved with every breath, the stadium buzzing with lights and noise and pressure.

He grabbed the bottle and tilted it back like it was air, water spilling over his lips as he drank greedily. His throat was dry. His hands were shaking.

Someone was talking. The manager, maybe. Strategies. Signals. Bullshit.

Ni-ki wasn’t listening.

He sat down, elbows on his knees, water bottle rolling to the side as he pulled out his phone, a habit he wasn’t even supposed to have during games, but no one ever stopped him.

He scrolled. Mindlessly. Endlessly. A blur of faces, ads, noise.

Until... There.

He nearly missed it, just another flash of a picture, a crowd, people smiling. A familiar mutual. Someone from a lifetime ago. His thumb hovered over the unfollow button like it had for so many others lately.

But something froze him.

His vision sharpened like a camera lens snapping into focus.

You.

Your name.

Your face.

Your smile.

His body locked up. His mouth went dry. The world dropped out from under him. You were there. You were real.

His thumb twitched and double-tapped the post without thinking, a quick, desperate motion, like if he didn’t claim it now, it would vanish. Be deleted. Be just another dream.

But the like stayed. The photo stayed. And so did you.

For a long second, he just stared, then his breathing turned sharp, his chest squeezed so tight it felt like something inside him snapped.

A hot wave of nausea rolled through him, twisting low in his stomach, crawling up his spine. His hands started to tremble, not from exhaustion, not from the game, but from everything that photo brought crashing back into him like a tidal wave of knives.

Your face. Your smile. That quiet tilt of your head. The one you used to do when you were teasing him. Or forgiving him.

He hadn't seen it in years. But it hadn't changed. And neither had he.

The ache was instant. Violent. All-consuming. It was like someone had scooped his insides out and replaced them with fire.

The cheers from the stands blurred into noise. The smell of sweat and chalk and grass became suffocating. He looked down at his hands, the same hands that once held your waist, that once pulled your fingers into his between innings like a secret, and he felt sick.

Because you weren’t with him. And someone else was close enough to take that picture.

His jaw clenched.A red-hot sting curled behind his eyes, not just grief, but fury.

How could you still be so beautiful without him? How could the world get to look at you when he hadn’t seen your face in years?

How could you be so close and not tell him?

Every fiber in his body was screaming. Muscles tight. Teeth clenched.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

His body moved before his mind caught up.

He was standing. Grabbing his phone. Ignoring the coach, the teammates, the voice shouting his name. He left the dugout still in uniform, cleats slamming concrete, each step faster, more unhinged. He didn’t care. Didn’t explain. Didn’t even think.

Because in that moment nothing mattered.

Not the team. Not the score. Not the reputation. Not the consequences. All that mattered was that you were here. And if he didn’t see you — didn’t touch you — he’d combust. Cease to exist. Dissolve into the version of himself he’d barely held together since the day you walked away.

He didn’t know what he’d say. What he’d do. How you’d look at him.

He just knew he needed you. And every inch of him was already gone.

He didn’t remember getting into the car. Only the way his fists trembled as he jammed the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life like it shared his pulse — fast, erratic, furious.

His baseball cleats slammed the gas. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just raw, blinding need.

The tires screeched against the asphalt as he tore out of the parking lot, the stadium lights shrinking in the rearview mirror. His match was forgotten. Irrelevant. Nothing mattered now. Not his career. Not the team. Not the media. Not the law.

He flew down the highway like something feral, like the ghost of every sleepless night was sitting in the passenger seat, whispering go faster, go faster, she’s slipping away again.

He didn’t care about the speed limits. Didn’t care about the red lights blurring past. Didn’t care about the fact that he couldn’t feel his hands anymore, fingers clenching the wheel so tight his knuckles went white. He wasn’t in his right mind. Not even close. But none of that registered. His vision tunneled. Your name pulsed in his head like a heartbeat he hadn’t heard in years. Your face. That photo. It was all he saw.

He didn’t even know where you were exactly. But something inside him did. Something old and twisted and devoted. Like his body had been carved to find you, like every breath, every cell remembered the way you tasted, the way you ran your fingers through his hair when he couldn’t sleep, the way you whispered his name like it meant something.

The match had been out of town. A few towns away. A long drive. Several hours. He didn’t care. He’d drive through the night. He’d drive to the ends of the earth. He’d drive into the damn ocean if it meant seeing your face again — not in a photo, not through glass, but real. Breathing. Close enough to touch. Close enough to keep.

The speedometer climbed. 140. 160. 180. The engine growled beneath him, the kind of sound that came with warnings and regrets. But Ni-ki didn’t hear it. He didn’t feel the way the tires shook beneath him, the way the car trembled on sharp curves. Didn’t notice how the road signs smeared past like watercolors in a storm, unreadable, unimportant. He flew past them all. A blur of red taillights and distant horns, none of it touching him.

190.

Faster.

He clenched the wheel tighter, jaw locked, eyes wide and unblinking. Wind whipped through the open window, slapping against his skin like punishment. The sweat on his forehead dried against the cold rush of night air, but the fever in his chest only climbed. Every inch of him screamed with one singular obsession:

200.

Get to her.

Get to her.

Get to her.

Before the world tries to take her from you again.

It wasn’t speed anymore. It was compulsion. It was possession.

And nothing — no cops, no crash, no consequence was going to stop him. Not when he’d finally seen proof that you still existed. That you were still within reach. And he’d break the world in half just to feel your heartbeat against his again.

He wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers again.

Not without a fight.

Not without everything.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

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[ikeuzito]

PRACTICING FOR HIM.

── synopsis: everyone on campus knows Heeseung’s rules — no commitments, no second chances, and no girl stays long enough to matter. As basketball captain he collects hearts like trophies and leaves them broken behind him without a second thought. You watch him from far away, knowing you should stay away, but you don't just want to be another name on his list. You want him to choose you and see only you. The problem is you're completely inexperienced, a virgin in every sense, while the girls around him know exactly how to move, how to flirt, and how to keep him hooked. So you make a plan: practice with other guys, learn the skills you're missing, and completely reinvent yourself to finally make Heeseung notice you — and choose you over everyone else.

warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni), popping cherry, fingering, oral (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, panty gag, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, riding, missionary, doggy style, against the wall, overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, spitting on pussy, praise kink, light degradation, dirty talk, begging, edging, possessiveness, manhandling, public/risky sex (library + locker room), risk of getting caught, use of pet name (babe, doll, angel, baby, slut, good girl), mostly dom!members with a bit of dom!reader.

wc: 18k ┆ a/n: I know some of you are waiting for part 2 of teacher's pet, but I was just so excited to write this one that I decided to work on it first (the idea actually came to me while listening to drake's 'practice') this ended up being way longer than I expected, but anyway... I hope you guys like it. happy reading!

Heeseung is the sun around which the entire campus orbits.

He’s the captain of the basketball team, the big star whose name echoes through the packed arena during every game. With his lean yet athletic build, dark hair that falls over his sweaty forehead after a match, and that lazy half-smile that screams trouble while charming every girl in sight, he moves like he’s always being watched — and he is. Every head turns when he walks by, the crowd in the hallways parting like the sea for him and his teammates. He loves the attention.

Everyone knows the stories about Heeseung. He doesn’t do relationships — he rotates. A new girl every week, sometimes every day if he’s in the mood. They’re often seen leaving his apartment late at night, or early in the morning if he feels like letting them stay over, hair messy and wearing his team jacket like a trophy.

He usually doesn't appear with them in public, but it doesn't take long for the chosen girl to start gossiping in the hallways about how she's being fucked by him. That doesn’t last long though, because once the thrill fades he ignores them completely, never answering their messages once the weekend is over. "Let’s just have fun," he says, and the girls always agree, secretly believing they’ll be the one to change him.

You’ve been watching him from afar for months, studying the way he laughs too loudly at parties with his arm around whatever girl he’s with at the moment, the way his hand rests on her lower back as he guides her through the crowd, and how his eyes scan the room like he’s already searching for the next target while the current one is still pressed against him. It should disgust you — the casual way he uses people, the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind without remorse. But it doesn’t disgust you. It feeds you.

Deep down, in that secret place where you allow yourself to be completely honest, you want to be one of them. Not just another weekly girl — you want to be the one who breaks the pattern, the one so unforgettable, so incredible in bed and out of it, that Heeseung, the campus player, finally chooses you for good.

The problem is you have no idea how to make that happen.

You’re a virgin, completely untouched. The closest you’ve ever gotten to intimacy was an awkward, too-long hug with your best friend Jake after a tough week of exams. Approaching Heeseung as you are now — inexperienced, nervous, and clumsy — would never work.

"He likes confident girls, experienced ones who know how to dominate and be dominated in equal measure, because he doesn’t waste time teaching the basics. He expects you to already know how to please him." That’s what you heard from one of his teammates.

So after watching him leave the court with yet another girl on his arm, you make a decision.

You’re going to practice.

You’re going to transform yourself into the perfect girl for him — experienced enough to impress him, confident enough to stand out, and irresistible enough that when he finally notices you, he won’t be able to let you go.

────────

You stand outside Jake’s dorm room long enough for your legs to start aching. Your best friend’s room has always been your safe haven — the perfect spot for late-night study sessions, movie marathons, and listening to him ramble excitedly about sci-fi. Jake is kind, a bit nerdy in the best way possible, like a golden retriever with brown hair, a sweet smile, and glasses.

With a deep breath, you knock on the door.

Jake opens it almost immediately and breaks into a wide smile the moment he sees you. "Hey, what took you so long? Come in— wait, are you okay? You look tense."

You step inside and sit on the edge of his bed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Jake drops into his desk chair and pulls it closer so he’s facing you directly, his knees almost brushing against yours. "Jake… I need to talk to you about something kind of crazy, embarrassing, and probably really stupid."

He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling behind his glasses. "You know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?"

You tell him everything — how you’ve been watching Heeseung for months, how every time you see him with someone new, something deep in your chest twists, not exactly with jealousy, but with desire. You share the rumors you’ve heard about how he likes girls who know what they’re doing, girls who can match his intensity. Finally, you admit that you want to be the one he chooses — not just for a week, not for a fling, but for good.

"But I’m a virgin, Jake," you whisper, your cheeks burning. "I’ve never even… I don’t know what I’m doing. So if I tried to approach him like this, he’d probably laugh."

Jake’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.

"So I’ve decided… I’m going to practice. I’m going to get experience so that when I finally have my chance with Heeseung, I’ll be good enough that he won’t want anyone else."

Silence stretches between you as Jake stares at you for a long moment. He pushes his glasses up, his expression soft — not mocking, not disgusted. Just… Jake. "Wow. That’s… a lot. Heeseung, huh? I mean, I get it, but you’re really willing to do all that for him?"

Biting your lip, you nod. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And… I was hoping you’d help me with the first part."

Your voice drops until it’s almost inaudible. "I want you to be my first. I want to lose my virginity with you. You’re my best friend and I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle, you won’t laugh at me or tell anyone. Please, Jake?"

His cheeks flush pink and for a second it looks like he might say no. "You… you want me to what? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say."

He lets out a nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and something he’s always kept hidden. "I’ve never thought about you like that before or… okay, maybe I have, a little. But you’re serious? This is all for Heeseung?"

"Yes, but right now it’s about learning with someone safe, someone who cares. And that someone is you."

Jake stays quiet for a moment while he thinks, then reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Okay… if we’re really going to do this, I want it to be right for you. Not just jumping in headfirst." His thumb keeps tracing slow, soft circles on the back of your hand. "You’ve never done any of this before, right? Not even… by yourself?"

You swallow hard, staring at your intertwined fingers, and admit softly, "No… I mean, I tried rubbing against my pillow once and it felt good, I think? But I got scared and stopped. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jake. That’s why I need you to help me learn."

Jake nods, adjusting his glasses — a nervous habit — with flushed cheeks, but his voice stays as gentle and patient as always. "That makes sense. But before anyone else touches you, you should get to know your own body first. What feels good, what you like. It’ll make everything easier later… for him and for you."

He hesitates for a second, then adds with a small reassuring smile, "Do you trust me enough to try this now? With me here?"

Your heart races with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Yes, I trust you. Just… tell me what to do, please."

Jake stands up slowly and sits beside you on the bed. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek. "Start by getting comfortable. Lie back, and maybe take off your sweater if you want to and feel okay with it."

You do as he says, pulling off your sweater and setting it aside so you’re left in just your tank top and jeans. "Good," he murmurs. "Now touch yourself under your clothes first, over your stomach, along your thighs… feel how your body reacts."

You slide your hand beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. Your fingers graze the soft skin of your belly, then move higher, gently caressing one of your breasts. It feels strange doing this while he watches, but his gaze isn’t hungry or demanding — it’s warm and encouraging, like he’s looking at something precious. When your fingertips brush your nipple, a small sigh escapes you.

"Right there. That’s good. Circle slowly and squeeze just a little."

As he speaks, his own hand drifts down to the front of his sweatpants and then he starts touching himself gently over the fabric, not even trying to hide it. Knowing he’s getting hard just from watching you makes your breath hitch.

Following his instruction, you circle and lightly pinch your nipple, feeling a warm sensation build low in your belly. "Jake, it feels so good…"

"Tell me," he encourages, his hand moving in slow strokes that match the rhythm of your breathing. "Does it make you wet between your legs?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Keep going, slide your other hand into your jeans and touch yourself over your panties if you’re not ready for more yet."

With your free hand you obey, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping inside. The fabric of your panties is already damp when you press your fingers against yourself and rub lightly, drawing a soft whimper from your throat.

Both of your breathing grows heavier with every second. Jake pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself, stroking slowly while he watches every movement of your fingers.

"Fuck, that’s beautiful," he breathes, the words slipping out like he can’t hold them back. "Rub your clit. Find the spot that feels best."

You circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, rolling your hips when you finally discover the perfect way to touch yourself. Jake’s eyes stay locked on your hand while his own speeds up, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every stroke.

"Inside your panties now," his voice still gentle but strained. "Feel how wet you are. Explore your body, learn what it likes so you can show someone exactly what you need."

You push your panties aside and slide a finger along your slick folds. "Slide a finger inside, babe," he says and when you do, a moan escapes your lips — it’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Jake groans with the sight, his hand moving faster on himself.

"Add another finger and curl them a little. Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, babe." His praise makes you bolder, so you start pumping your fingers slowly, rubbing your clit with your thumb at the same time, while your free hand keeps playing with your breast, pinching harder as the pleasure rises.

"You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re breathing. Let it happen. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you." His words push you over the edge.

Moaning Jake’s name, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, your body tenses and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you. Waves of heat pulse around your fingers, deeper and stronger than you ever imagined.

"Fuck, don’t do this to me." His hand strokes faster until he groans and comes too, spilling over his fingers with a shaky breath.

For a moment, the room falls quiet except for your shared breathing. Jake leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his glasses tilting slightly. "Hey… you still with me? How are you feeling after that? Overwhelmed?"

You shake your head and let out a small giggle. "I’m good. Really good, actually." Reaching up, you gently fix his glasses and whisper, "Thank you for being so patient with me, Jake. I know this is probably weird for you too."

He smiles, and it makes you smile back naturally. "It’s not weird. At least not with you. Honestly, seeing you like that… it was beautiful. You’re beautiful." He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, giving you time to calm down while his hand rests on your hip and his thumb draws slow circles on your skin. "If you want to keep going, I’m right here."

You bite your lip, the mix of nerves and curiosity warms your body all over again. This is supposed to be practice — each new sensation is another skill you’re learning — but right now, with him, it feels like something more.

"I want more," you admit, cheeks burning. "Can you… use your mouth on me? I’ve heard it feels really good, but I don’t know what to expect."

Jake’s eyes widen for half a second. "Yeah, I’d love to do that for you." He moves carefully on the bed, helping you adjust the pillows behind your head so you’re comfortable. "Just relax and tell me what feels good, okay? If anything is too much or not enough, say so. Promise?"

"Promise." You extend your pinky toward him and he does the same, linking them together to seal the promise.

He starts with soft kisses on the inside of your knee, then higher up your thigh. Every touch of his lips sends shivers across your skin. "Your legs are already shaking," he murmurs with a low chuckle against your thigh. "That’s so cute."

When his mouth finally reaches your center, it’s feather-light at first — just his lips brushing against your folds — but it’s enough to make you draw in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tightly.

Then his warm tongue drags upward in one long, torturous lick from your entrance all the way to your clit. The feeling is wet, hot, and incredibly intimate, the texture of his tongue adds a new layer of friction that makes your hips jerk involuntarily.

"My God, Jake…" The words slip out before you can stop them.

"Good?" he asks, pulling back just enough for you to see his glistening lips as he looks up at you.

"Yes… really good. Do that again, please."

With more confidence this time, he explores every inch of you — licking along your folds, circling your clit, then moving down to taste your entrance. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you only heighten the arousal building in your belly.

Jake hums in satisfaction as he finds the rhythm you like best, reading it from your moans. "You taste incredible… so hot and wet."

You reach down and thread your fingers through his soft hair. "Right there, when you suck on my clit, it feels so good."

He listens immediately, sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and applying gentle suction while his tongue flicks against it, making the pleasure intensify, stronger than before.

The smooth glide of his tongue, the occasional careful graze of his teeth, and the way he alternates between lavishing attention on your clit and licking down to dip inside you make heat spread through your core — it radiates outward until even your fingertips feel warm. You grow even wetter, and Jake groans in appreciation, licking up every drop like he can’t get enough.

"Jake, I think I’m getting close again," you gasp, your voice breaking into a loud moan as he sucks harder on your clit. Your hips move against his face instinctively, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he doubles down with his tongue. This orgasm builds differently — deeper, more overwhelming — and when it crashes over you, it hits with a full-body shudder.

You cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure pulse through your center. Jake keeps licking you through it all, drawing out every tremor until you’re panting and oversensitive.

He finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes shine behind his glasses, and a proud little smile plays on his lips. "You okay? That looked like it felt really good."

You laugh breathlessly. "It was incredible… I didn’t know I could feel so sensitive down there."

Jake chuckles softly. "Good. That’s kind of the point of all this practice, right? Learning what you like." His hand slides over your body again, stopping just above your mound as his fingers trace lazy patterns across your skin. "Are you sure you want me to take your virginity? Your body’s already experienced so much tonight. Maybe you need a break."

You shake your head, caressing his face. "I don’t need a break. I just want to feel your cock inside me, please."

One of his hands drifts lower until his fingers reach your wet entrance, circling it slowly. "I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax and breathe out for me."

You do as he says, and he slowly presses two fingers inside you.

His longer fingers create a different sensation. The stretch borders on discomfort at first, making your walls clench tightly around the intrusion. "Ah— it’s tight," you whisper, gripping his shoulder. "It burns a little."

Jake freezes immediately. "Want me to stop? We can wait."

"No! Keep going. I want to get used to it."

He nods and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well… so warm and snug around my fingers. What if I curl them just a little?" He demonstrates, stroking your inner walls gently until he brushes against a spongy spot that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

"Oh!" Your eyes widen. "Right there… my God, that feels so good."

"I found your g-spot," he says, clearly proud of himself. He keeps the movements shallow and slow, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb draws gentle circles over your clit. The initial burning fades, turning into something hotter, slicker, and far more pleasurable.

"Add another one, Jake," you say after a few minutes, voice breathless. "I think I can take it."

Jake carefully slides a third finger in, the pressure increases and your walls flutter as they adjust to the stretch. Every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, while his thumb on your clit keeps the arousal building higher.

"Talk to me, babe," he says, eyes fixed on your face. "How does it feel now? Too much?"

"It’s full… stretching me," you moan, your hips starting to move in time with his hand. "But it’s turning into something really good. Faster on my clit— yes, like that. God, Jake, your fingers are so deep."

He picks up the pace a little, thrusting more firmly and creating an overwhelming sensation in the best way possible. The pleasure keeps intensifying until your breathing comes in short gasps and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. "I’m getting close again. Please don’t stop."

Jake leans down to kiss your stomach, murmuring encouragement. "Come on, come on my fingers. Let go for me, babe."

You moan loudly, back arching as the orgasm hits you harder than the ones before. A deep wave crashes through you, making your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. Jake keeps pumping slowly and carefully until the spasms ease, then gently pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. "Your taste is addictive."

Smiling you reach up to brush a messy strand of hair from his forehead. "Jake… I want to go all the way. I want to feel you inside me, please."

Jake’s breath catches, then he sits up properly and reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.

"You actually have these," you say with a light teasing note in your voice.

He looks at you with a shy smile as he opens the packet and rolls the condom down his length. "Hey, Heeseung isn’t the only one on campus who has sex, you know? A guy can be prepared even if he’s not out at every party." Jake hovers over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, leaning closer and gazing at your lips.

"Can I?" When you nod, he captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss filled with desire. His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, and then trail softly down the side of your neck, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. He takes his time, giving attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and fingers. Only when both of you are breathing heavier does he settle between your legs and position himself.

"Breathe with me, okay? Slow and easy." You nod, inhaling as he begins to push inside.

The initial pressure is intense — a wide, stretching fullness that makes your breath hitch. Your walls stretch around his thickness in an overwhelming way and your body tenses as he sinks into you inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. "Oh my God…"

Jake stops immediately. "Hey, hey… look at me," he says, his voice full of concern. He kisses you softly on the lips, then your nose and forehead. "Is it too much? We can wait. I hate the idea of hurting you, even for a second."

You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ease the discomfort. "It’s a lot… really full and there’s some burning, but I want this."

To distract you from the stretch and help your body relax around him, he kisses you again. It works — the pain slowly turns into pressure, and then into something hotter and more intimate. "Okay, you can move a little more now."

Jake slides forward inch by inch until he’s fully inside you — every part of him is wrapped tightly in your heat, making you feel so connected, so completely filled, with a pleasant throbbing where your bodies meet.

"God… you feel incredible," he breathes, staying still for a moment while buried deep inside you. He covers you with more kisses. "So warm and tight around me. Tell me how you feel, babe."

"Full," you sigh. "So deep… it’s starting to feel really good."

Smiling against your skin, he begins rocking his hips in small, gentle movements. Each shallow thrust glides along your inner walls, brushing that sensitive spot and sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body. Jake keeps his eyes on yours, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. "More kisses," you whisper softly, and he gives them freely — deep, passionate kisses that match the slow rhythm of his hips. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers beside your head as he sinks a little deeper and a little firmer. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm wave spreading from your center outward.

"You’re doing so well," he praises between kisses, his voice full of affection. "Look at you… my best friend, letting me do this. You feel perfect, so hot and slick around my cock." His free hand caresses your breast through your tank top, his thumb brushing your nipple in time with his movements, pulling more moans from you.

"Faster… just a little," you ask, voice breaking. "I want to feel more."

Jake obeys, finding a slow but steady rhythm that lets every thrust fill you completely, the head of his cock brushing that sweet spot over and over again. "Does this feel good for you too?" you ask between moans, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it.

"God, yes," he groans. "You’re squeezing me so tight, but right now it’s all about you. I want you to come like this if you can."

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts, learning the rhythm and experimenting with how it feels to clench around him. Jake’s glasses are completely fogged up and slipping down his nose, he pauses just long enough to take them off and set them aside, then kisses you deeply as he resumes his movements.

"I’m getting there," you moan against his mouth. "Please don’t stop, Jake."

"I’ve got you." He shifts slightly, sliding one hand between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your clit. The extra stimulation pushes you right over the edge. Your walls flutter and clench hard around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan loudly, nails digging into his back while your body pulses around him.

Jake keeps thrusting softly through your climax, murmuring praises. "That’s it… so good. You’re incredible." Only when you start to come down does he let himself go. His hips snap a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes with a low, shaky groan, filling the condom.

For a long moment afterward, he stays inside you while both of you catch your breath. Then he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and cleans you both with a warm cloth from the bathroom. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and full of concern. "No pain? I tried to be as gentle as possible."

You snuggle into the sheets, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and a deep sense of satisfaction. "I’m perfect. A little sore, but in a good way. You made my first time really special, Jake. You’re the best friend I could ask for."

The next morning, you wake up in his bed. The ache between your legs reminds you of everything — the careful way he touched you, the gentle thrusts, the tender kisses. It had all been perfect for your first time.

But as you slip out of bed carefully so you don’t wake him, a realization settles in your mind. It wasn’t enough. Not for what you really want.

Heeseung isn’t gentle. From the rumors, girls get pinned against walls, left breathless and marked. He likes control, intensity, rough hands. Jake would never give you that, even if you begged. He’s your best friend who worries about every little sound you make. He would never push your limits the way you suspect Heeseung would.

You also need to practice that side — the rougher kind of sex that leaves you deliciously sore, the kind that teaches you how to take and give back. You can’t show up to Heeseung soft and inexperienced if you want to stand out, if you want him to crave you for more than one night.

So you leave Jake a note on his desk. "Thank you for last night. Let’s talk soon," and head back to your dorm with a new determination.

────────

That weekend, the hockey team is throwing a big party at their off-campus house — an event that always draws a different crowd from the basketball scene. There’s no explosive feud between the teams, just a quiet rivalry and enough tension that basketball players rarely show up at hockey parties and vice versa. It’s perfect. No chance of running into Heeseung or his circle, and you need that space to level up without any complications.

You take extra time getting ready because you want to be noticed. You choose a short black dress that hugs your curves, the hem riding high on your thighs. It’s simple but dangerous — low neckline, thin straps, the kind of outfit that makes you feel powerful when you look in the mirror. You add a bit more makeup than usual, nothing too dramatic, and slip into heels that make your legs look longer.

The hockey house is already packed when you arrive. Hockey players in their varsity jackets, girls in tight dresses, and red solo cups everywhere. You grab a drink and wander through the crowd, heart racing with anticipation.

That’s when you see him.

Sunghoon, the captain of the hockey team, is standing near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter like he owns the place — and he does. He has a cold, almost untouchable aura that makes people shiver when he walks by. His teammates laugh around him, but he only offers a slight, distant smile, like he’s above it all.

Your eyes meet across the room and he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels down your body, taking in the dress you chose so carefully, before returning to your face. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — not warm like Jake’s, but something sharper, more predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t look away either. After all, that’s exactly why you came.

He pushes off the counter and makes his way through the crowd toward you. The suffocating tension hits you the second he stops right in front of you, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. "You don’t usually come to our parties," he says, his voice low as he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s already halfway to solving. "Or are you from the basketball crowd, doll?"

You take a sip of your drink to steady yourself. "Maybe I was waiting for the right night… Plus, hockey parties have a certain reputation."

A faint smile tugs at his lips as he steps a little closer, invading your space enough to make your pulse race. "Reputation for what, exactly?" He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne — something fresh and expensive that makes your head spin.

You shrug, trying to look calm. "Good music, strong drinks… You’re Sunghoon, right? The captain of the team. I’ve heard a lot about you." The words come out bolder than you expected, but they hit something in him and his gaze darkens.

He raises a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, making his impressively attractive biceps stand out. "I hope they’re good things."

You smile slightly. "Depends on who you ask. Some say you’re intense. Others say you’re… hard to keep up with."

Sunghoon studies you like he’s deciding something. The air between you grows heavier, and you can feel the pull — the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, before sliding back up. "And what do you think? Do you think you could keep up?"

The question makes your breath hitch. "I think it depends," you reply, taking a small step closer, letting the tension build until it feels almost unbearable. "Are you offering to find out?"

He leans in even closer, his lips hovering near your ear so only you can hear him, his warm breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. "Careful. Talking like that might get you more than you bargained for."

You turn your head just enough that your cheeks nearly touch. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for."

His hand settles on your lower back, firm and guiding, pulling you subtly closer. "Come upstairs with me," he says, his voice steady as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. "There’s a room up there. Quieter. We can… talk more."

This is it — the next step.

You nod, letting him guide you through the crowd toward the stairs with his hand still resting on your back as you climb the steps.

The door clicks softly shut behind you, and the room instantly feels much quieter than the chaos downstairs, lit only by the soft glow coming through the open window. Sunghoon leans back against the door without saying a word, simply watching you with a playful smile on his lips.

"So," he begins softly, pushing away from the door and walking toward you, "you showed up at a hockey party dressed like that, with your eyes on the captain. You’re either really brave or really curious. Which one is it?"

"Maybe both."

Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’ve been moving backward. "Bold. I like that, I don’t waste time with girls who don’t know what they want." He towers over you, his presence intense and dominant.

You swallow hard. "I know exactly what I want tonight. Someone who won’t hold back."

He leans in closer, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing firmly enough for you to feel his strength. "Careful what you wish for… You look like the type who melts easily, and I think I’d really enjoy finding out."

His gaze drops to your mouth, then returns to your eyes, dark and hungry. Without another word, his lips crash against yours in a deep, overwhelming kiss right from the first second. Sunghoon doesn’t take it slow like Jake — he claims your mouth completely, his tongue sliding against yours with raw intensity while his free hand moves up to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly the way he wants.

You try to match the intensity of his kiss, but it’s overwhelming — he devours every sigh and gasp that escapes you. When he finally pulls back enough for you to breathe, his eyes are darker, his lips slightly swollen. "Not bad," he murmurs, voice rough. "But you can do better, doll."

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, slower this time, pressing his body against yours so you can feel the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. Your stomach tightens with a mix of nerves and excitement.

"Come here." He takes your hand and guides you away from the wall toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls you close until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as you settle against him.

He pulls you into another deep kiss while one hand slides up your body and the other grips your thigh. You rock lightly in his lap, feeling him grow even harder beneath you, and he lets out a low groan into your mouth. "You’re so fucking hot. I want to see what else that pretty mouth can do." His fingers trace your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Get on your knees for me. Show me what that mouth is capable of."

Your heart stutters because his words hit you hard — part excitement, part panic. On your knees. Sucking him. You’ve never given a blowjob before.

You slide slowly off Sunghoon’s lap and drop to your knees, your hands shaking as you reach for the button of his jeans and try to pull down the zipper. Reality crashes over you: you’re on your knees for the hockey team captain, about to give him head with zero experience.

His eyes narrow the moment he notices the tremor in your hands and the hesitation in your movements. A low, cruel, mocking laugh escapes him. "Wait." He reaches down, gripping your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You’ve never done this before, have you?"

Biting your lip, you shake your head. "No… I’ve never done it."

Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t soften with pity. Instead, it sharpens with something darker — satisfaction mixed with pure control. He releases your chin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you like you’re a player who needs to learn the drill.

"Good, I like honesty. So you’re going to listen carefully. I’m not in the mood for guessing games tonight. You want to learn? I’ll teach you, and you follow my instructions. Got it, dol?"

You swallow hard and nod again.

"Words," he commands, cold and firm. "Use your words when I ask you something."

"Yes," you repeat, your voice steadier this time. "I understand."

He gives a small nod of approval. "Good girl. Now unzip me."

You obey, slowly pulling the zipper down. Sunghoon lifts his hips slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers low enough to free his cock. It springs out, hard and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum.

His hand rests on the back of your neck, not pushing, but guiding. "Look up at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t just stare at it like you’re lost. Wrap your hand around the base and feel the weight."

Your fingers are still trembling as you obey, curling them around his thick length. He feels incredibly warm and heavy in your palm, the skin smooth over steel. You give an experimental squeeze, watching his reaction.

"Yes, just like that," he praises coolly, like he’s directing a teammate on the ice. "Now stroke up and down. Keep a firm grip. That’s it— good. Don’t be shy."

You pump your hand firmly, finding a rhythm that makes Sunghoon’s breathing grow a little deeper, but he keeps complete control, his eyes locked on you the entire time. "Spit on it, get it nice and wet. Good girls make it sloppy."

You gather saliva and let it drip onto the head, using your hand to spread it all over his length. The wet sounds that follow make your face burn even hotter, but the way his cock twitches in your grip sends a shiver through you.

His fingers twist into your hair with enough force for you to feel it, then he pulls you closer to his throbbing length. "Now use your mouth. Start with the head, wrap your lips around it, no teeth. Suck gently while you swirl your tongue."

Your heart races as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting a man’s cock for the first time — slightly salty, but surprisingly good. Your tongue moves in slow, hesitant circles, trying to find the rhythm you think will feel best for him.

"Eyes up," he orders sharply. "Look at me while you do it. That’s good, but take me deeper now. Relax your throat, don’t force it. Move your head slowly and keep stroking the part you can’t reach."

You open wider and take him deeper. It feels strange at first — the stretch of your jaw, the way he fills your mouth, the occasional gag when you go too far, causing tears to gather at the corners of your eyes.

"Relax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Faster with your tongue on the underside. Use your hand in sync with your mouth."

You follow every instruction carefully, the clear commands making it easier despite your inexperience. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds as your mouth works on him — licking, sucking, and your hand sliding smoothly along his cock. Sunghoon’s thighs tense under your free hand, and his voice grows a little rougher, though still tightly controlled. "Hollow your cheeks more when you pull back. Take me deeper whenever you can, I want to feel the back of your throat."

Pushing yourself, you take him deeper until your nose brushes his stomach, triggering a light gag. You try to hold it, but end up sliding back up, gasping for air. A thick string of saliva connects his cock to your mouth, and his grip tightens in your hair, the slight sting only heightening the moment.

"Not bad for your first time. Now focus on the head again. Suck harder while you move faster. Yeah— just like that. You’re gonna make me come if you keep going."

You throw yourself into it completely, determined to get better so you can do this perfectly for Heeseung one day. Your hand and mouth work together, faster and sloppier now, until Sunghoon’s breathing turns heavier and his abs tighten visibly.

"Fuck— keep your eyes on me," he growls, his voice dropping lower. "I’m close. When I come, you swallow. Every drop. Understand, doll?"

You murmur something unintelligible around him, the vibration drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. His hand guides you with a little more firmness now as his hips begin to rock, meeting your mouth with each movement. His dominance is intoxicating — no endless questions, no overthinking, just clear and commanding direction that pushes you exactly where he wants you.

With one last deep thrust into your mouth and a low groan, he comes. Hot spurts hit the back of your throat as you swallow desperately, trying not to gag while you take everything he gives you, your hand still gently stroking him through it.

Sunghoon holds you there for a few more seconds before finally releasing your hair and letting you pull back. You release his cock with a wet pop, your lips swollen and glistening. He looks down at you with that same cool satisfaction, his thumb brushing a stray string of saliva from your chin. "Clean every inch with your tongue."

You nod and obey, licking him carefully with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue until he’s completely clean.

"Good," he says, his voice satisfied. "Now come here."

He pulls you up from your knees and back onto his lap, guiding you into a deep kiss that’s slower and less aggressive than the one against the wall, yet still possessive. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting himself on you, letting out a soft groan against your lips.

"You did well for your first time," he praises quietly as he pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. "A little messy, but eager. I like that. You look even better with that flushed face after sucking me off, doll."

The praise sends a warm flutter through your stomach, and before you can respond, Sunghoon moves, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "You’ve never sucked a cock before… so I’m going to ask. Are you a virgin?"

You shake your head quickly. "No, I’m not."

A flash of relief crosses his face, quickly replaced by a darker, almost predatory smile. "Good. That’s actually perfect. It means I don’t have to be gentle with you." His hand glides along your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart. "I hate holding back."

Two of his long fingers press against your entrance, finding you already soaked from everything that’s happened. He pushes your panties aside and slides them inside you in one smooth motion. His fingers are noticeably longer than Jake’s, reaching places that instantly make your breath hitch.

"Fuck, you’re so tight. You sure you’re not a virgin, doll? Because you’re squeezing me like one." He starts moving right away, no slow buildup, no endless questions about how you feel, just his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm — faster and deeper — while his thumb rubs firm circles over your clit.

You gasp, arching your back off the bed as his long fingers reach so deep that they stroke that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. "Sunghoon—" you moan, clutching his shoulders.

"Eyes on me." His free hand pins your wrists above your head while the other moves faster, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. He watches every reaction on your face, adjusting the intensity until you’re writhing beneath him. "You’re already soaking my hand, doll. Come on, let me feel you come around my fingers."

He adds a third finger, pushing deeper and curling harder against that spot while his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. The combination is overwhelming — fast, deep strokes that tighten the pleasure in your core until your thighs start trembling around his hand.

"I… oh God…" Your words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with every wave, but Sunghoon doesn’t slow down, he keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, hypersensitive and completely spent.

Only then does he pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips for a quick taste while he looks down at you with dark satisfaction. "You taste so good, doll."

Without wasting another second, he shoves the rest of his pants and boxers down and climbs fully on top of you. "Arms up." You lift them without hesitation and he pulls your dress off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. Your bra follows immediately, exposing your breasts to the cool air. In the same motion, he squeezes one firmly, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, then leans down to suck it, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

"These are perfect," he murmurs against your skin before moving to the other. His free hand yanks your panties down your legs in one swift pull, leaving you completely naked beneath him. Sunghoon sits back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming over your bare body with cool appreciation. "Perfect. You’re perfect, doll."

He positions himself between your spread thighs, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance. Only then do you realize there’s no condom. This is going to be the first time you feel someone raw. "Wait, Sunghoon…"

"I’m clean," he says dryly, reading your hesitation perfectly. "We’re good." He doesn’t say anything else, simply pushing forward and sinking the thick head of his cock into you with one precise thrust.

With no latex barrier, you feel every inch of him — hot, hard, and completely bare. The stretch is more intense than it was with Jake, deeper and fuller in a way that makes your walls flutter and clench tightly around him. A low moan escapes you as he sinks even deeper, filling you completely until his hips press flush against yours.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Sunghoon groans, closing his eyes for a brief second before locking his gaze on your face again. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, starting to move with long, deep strokes that brush every sensitive spot inside you while he watches your every reaction, every gasp, fucking you with firm control.

You grab onto his arms, your nails digging crescent moons into his skin. "Sunghoon… it’s so deep like this." Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs.

He kisses you hard again, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward faster, growing more intense. The pleasure feels stronger than your first time because there’s nothing between you, but after a few minutes, Sunghoon suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and whimpering.

"On your knees. Face down, ass up," he orders. "I need to go deeper. I want to watch this ass bounce while I fuck you stupid."

You get on all fours, feeling incredibly exposed with your ass up and back arched. The vulnerability of this new position you’ve never tried before sends a fresh wave of nerves through you. Sunghoon kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks slightly as he lines himself up again.

He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The new angle lets him go incredibly deeper, the head of his cock pressing against spots you didn’t even know existed. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. "Oh my God, it’s so much deeper like this."

Sunghoon groans in satisfaction. "That’s exactly what I wanted." His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts fucking you with more intensity. His thrusts are relentless, hips snapping forward with a force that makes your entire body shake.

One hand slides up your back and fists in your hair, pulling your head back sharply and arching you even more. "Fuck, look at you taking it so well like this."

His other hand comes down hard on your ass, a firm slap that makes the flesh jiggle and sting deliciously, drawing a loud moan from you. He spanks the other cheek, then again, alternating while he keeps pounding into you.

Without a condom, you feel every vein, every ridge, the way his cock stretches and fills you completely with every powerful thrust. "This ass looks even better when it’s moving for me," he says, landing another harder slap. Your arms tremble, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter in your core. "You’re clenching so fucking hard. You like it rough like this, don’t you?"

"Yes," you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, please."

He obeys without hesitation, fucking you with punishing force that makes the bed creak beneath you and his balls slap against you with every deep stroke. "Touch yourself, rub your clit while I fuck you."

You slide a hand between your legs, circling your swollen clit. Another sharp slap lands on your ass, the sting spreading hot across your skin and making you clench hard around him. "Fuck, do that again, doll." He delivers one more firm spank, then squeezes the reddened flesh possessively. "You’re dripping all over my cock, soaking the sheets like a good girl."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm, the sharp tugs on your hair, the stinging slaps, and the overwhelming depth of this position, push you straight over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard, your walls pulsing and contracting tightly around his bare cock as waves of pleasure crash through you. You moan loudly into the mattress, your whole body shaking.

Sunghoon doesn’t slow down at all — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. "I’m gonna come," he growls. After a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and groans as he fills you with hot pulses of cum, spilling deep inside you for the first time. The sensation is new and overwhelming — warm, wet, and so intimately raw that it makes your mind spin.

Sunghoon collapses beside you on the bed and pulls you against his chest, lazily stroking your back. "You should come to our parties more often. Those basketball idiots don’t deserve someone like you at their parties."

────────

Not everything is about the plan. After all, you are still in college — assignments pile up and deadlines approach without caring about your personal obsessions. When the professor pairs you with Jay for the next project, you don’t think much of it, you just need to finish the work as quickly as possible so you can get back to your plan.

The second-floor library was strangely quiet that night. Most students have already left, and the few who remain are buried in their books. You and Jay sit at a secluded table in a corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves that give you a sense of privacy.

Jay sits across from you, looking effortlessly attractive in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms. You’ve been discussing the project for nearly an hour, but the conversation slowly drifts away from the assignment and becomes more personal.

"You always seem so put-together," you say with a small smile. "Even during finals week. How do you do it?"

Jay chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. "Coffee. A lot of coffee… You’ve been glowing lately. There’s a new confidence in class. It looks good on you."

Your cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you. I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone lately."

"I noticed and it’s honestly really attractive." The compliment is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Jay’s voice drops lower as he continues. "You know, it’s easy to talk to you… and easy to look at, too."

You laugh, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. "You’re not bad yourself. Always so polite and charming... It’s kind of dangerous."

His smile widens, and then he reaches across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against yours. The touch is gentle but sends a spark through you, making the library feel even quieter now, like the rest of the world has disappeared and only the two of you remain behind the shelves.

Before you can overthink it, Jay leans forward over the table. "Come here."

You meet him halfway, and the kiss starts soft and sweet at first — a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens as he tilts his head. Jay kisses with care and skill, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other rests on the table for balance. It feels good, warm, and surprisingly right.

When he finally pulls back, breathing a little faster, he whispers. "No one’s around… Come sit with me."

He gently pulls you around the table and onto his lap. Your legs part over his thighs, the skirt riding up as he settles you against him and wraps one arm securely around your waist.

"Jay," a nervous laugh escapes you as you glance at the shelves surrounding you. "We’re in the library… Someone could walk by any second."

"It’s okay," his hand traces slow circles on your lower back while the other rests on your thigh. "Look around, it’s almost empty, and the shelves block most of the view." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. "We’ll be quiet. I just want to be close to you for a little while… if you’re okay with it."

Sitting on his lap like this in a public place feels incredibly bold, but Jay’s gentle confidence makes your hesitation melt away. "It’s okay," he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. "Just relax. It’s just us right now."

You kiss him back, and it doesn’t take long for your hips to start moving almost on their own, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction feels good even through your clothes — a slow, delicious rhythm that builds heat between your legs. Jay lets out a low hum of approval against your mouth, his hand squeezing your thigh encouragingly.

"That’s good… really good." His hips continue moving in deliberate circles, letting you feel him hardening beneath you — the thick outline pressing right against your core.

The kiss deepens as he traces your lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, and you open for him. "Yeah… keep doing that." One of his hands slides up to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb, while the other guides your hips, helping you find a rhythm that feels even better. "You’re driving me crazy doing this… it feels so good."

Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his gaze is dark with desire but still incredibly gentle. "Do you want to do this here?" he asks, thumb caressing your hip. "We don’t have to… but if you’re comfortable, I need you right now."

You quickly glance around — there’s still no one nearby. "Yes." The certainty in your voice surprises even you. "I want to."

He pulls you into another kiss, deep and reassuring, before reaching between your bodies to push his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out — long and incredibly thick, the head flushed red and already glistening. It’s bigger than you expected, heavy, with prominent veins.

Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness. "Jay… you’re really big. I don’t know if I can take all of that."

He cups your face with both hands, noticing your nerves. "Hey… look at me. We don’t have to rush anything, and if it’s too much, we stop, I promise." A soft, caring expression takes over as thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. "We’ll go really slow… I’ll make sure it feels good for you."

You nod, biting your lower lip. "Okay. I trust you."

One hand stays on your waist while the other guides his thick cock, rubbing the head against your soaked panties, teasing your entrance through the fabric. "Move your panties to the side for me."

With trembling hands, you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull it aside. The cool air hits your wet folds, making you shiver. Jay helps by tugging your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. Only then does he position himself at your entrance — the blunt head of his cock brushing against your slick pussy. "When you’re ready."

You take a deep breath and start sinking down, the stretch is immediate and intense — almost too much. His thickness slowly pushes your walls apart as you lower yourself, inch by inch. A soft moan escapes your lips from the burning sensation and the way he fills you so completely. It’s deeper than anything you’ve felt before, his huge size presses against every sensitive spot inside you.

Jay groans, tilting his head back for a moment. "Fuck… you’re so tight. Take it slow, angel. You’re doing so well."

You pause halfway, breathing deeply to ease the burning feeling. It’s almost uncomfortable, but the raw heat of him, bare and deep, sends sparks of pleasure through the stretch. Determined, you continue lowering yourself until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your walls fluttering as they try to adjust to his enormous length.

For a few seconds, you stay still, adjusting to the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside you. Jay’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as his lips brush your temple. "You’re perfect, angel. Taking me so well... Tell me when you want to move."

You start experimenting, at first moving simply — rising and sinking as you’ve seen in porn videos. The motion drags him along your walls, creating delicious friction, but it feels a little awkward. It feels good for him, his groans make that clear, but it isn’t quite hitting the right spots for you.

"This is incredible," he says honestly. "But I want you to feel good too. You don’t have to just go up and down. Grind on me… roll your hips in circles, and when you bounce, use your whole body. Let me guide you, angel."

He gently guides you with his hands on your hips, and you follow, shifting from simple up and down movements to a smooth, rolling grind. The change is instant — his thick cock now rubs perfectly against your front wall, pressing hard into that sensitive spot with every circle of your hips, making a sharp moan escape you. "Yes, just like that. Feel how deep I am when you roll your hips? Now try bouncing while you do that."

You combine the movements — lifting and dropping while rolling your hips on the way down. Each bounce takes him incredibly deep, his cockhead dragging against places that make your toes curl. The stretch remains intense because he’s almost too big, creating a delicious burn.

Jay groans louder, and one hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck as he kisses you again. "Yes… fuck, you’re riding me so well. Look at you, angel." His other hand stays on your hip, guiding you to bounce harder.

The praise makes you bolder. You brace your hands on his shoulders for balance and start bouncing faster, moving up and down while grinding. Jay is so big that you can feel his cock reaching deep into your stomach, creating a profound pressure that makes your head spin.

Your newfound confidence makes him throb inside you as Jay starts thrusting up to meet you, the added force sending waves of pleasure through your core. "Deeper… like this," you moan.

Jay’s hands roam all over your body — squeezing your ass, caressing your breasts over your shirt, pulling you down for more kisses. He doesn’t take full control, letting you lead while offering guidance and praise. "That’s it… move just like that. You’re getting so wet for me. You look so beautiful riding my cock."

The pleasure builds quickly, a deep, spreading heat that consumes your entire body. You lean forward, changing the angle, and cry out when you hit an even more sensitive spot. Jay groans, holding you tighter. "Right there? Good girl. Keep going, take what you need."

You moan loudly, burying your face in his neck as the orgasm crashes through you violently. Your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock, pulsing and milking him while you keep bouncing, pushing him over the edge right after. He groans, thrusting his hips up against you as he cums deep inside, filling you with hot, thick pulses of cum.

Once you both come down, Jay lifts your chin and kisses you again, his tongue moves lazily against yours, savoring the moment. You kiss him back, feeling his cock still twitching softly inside you.

"You were incredible, angel," he whispers between kisses, smiling against your lips. "So beautiful riding me like that."

Jay’s hands run gently down your back, his gaze dropping to your chest. "Can I see more of you?"

You nod, and he doesn’t waste a single second, pulls your blouse up just enough to free your breasts. The cool air of the library makes your nipples harden instantly. "Perfect,” you sigh softly as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

He sucks harder, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud with a careful bite that makes you moan and clench around his cock, which is still buried deep inside you. Switching to the other breast, he gives it the same attention — kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. You roll your hips slowly in his lap, savoring the way his cock twitches inside you every time he sucks harder.

"You’re so sensitive here," he murmurs against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses between your breasts. "I could spend hours doing this."

You let out a soft, needy sound, holding his head closer to your chest as he continues marking you with his mouth — sucking hard enough to leave hickeys that will remind you of this moment later. He’s getting hard again inside you, growing thicker and longer, pressing against your sensitive walls.

"Fuck, you’re making me hard again. The way you squeeze around me while I suck on these… you’re driving me crazy." Suddenly, Jay’s arms tighten around you and, in one swift movement, he stands up.

"Jay—!" you gasp, clutching his shoulders.

"I’ve got you," he says carefully, sitting you on the edge of the table with his cock still buried deep inside you. "I need to move for a bit. Okay, angel? Tell me if it’s too much."

Before you can respond, he starts fucking you at his own pace — deep, powerful thrusts that make your body shake on the table. The angle is perfect, making his thick cock drags along every inch of your walls with each stroke.

You try to stay quiet, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and moans far too loud for the silent library keep escaping. "Ah— Jay!"

He quickly covers your mouth with his hand while continuing to thrust firmly. "Shh, angel." His hips snap forward a little harder, testing your silence. "You have to stay quiet… someone might hear."

Even with his palm muffling your sounds, the deep thrusts still pull muffled but audible moans from you. Jay glances around nervously, unsure what to do because stopping isn’t an option, so he makes a quick decision. He pulls his cock out, reaches for your panties, which was pulled to the side this whole time, tugs the wet fabric free and then he pushes it between your lips.

"I’m sorry," he whispers immediately as he slides back inside you with a deep thrust. "I hate doing this… but I don’t want us to get caught, okay?"

You nod slightly, eyes watering from the intensity, but the gag works — your next moan comes out completely muffled. "You’re being so good for me, so wet and tight." Jay returns to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while he continues fucking you senseless.

His pace quickens, hips snapping harder against yours as he tries to keep control. The risk of getting caught and the feeling of you around him push him closer to the edge. "Cum for me. I’m close too… let go, angel."

You scream into the gag, your body shaking in his arms as you cum hard, and the sensation of your walls pulsing around him sends Jay over the edge right after. He buries himself as deep as possible and cums inside you with hot, intense pulses.

Still buried inside you, he strokes your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible… so responsive and beautiful."

A shy smile tugs at your lips. "You were incredible too."

He runs his thumb across your flushed cheek. "I’d love to do this again someday… if you want. Maybe somewhere more private next time, so I can take my time with you."

Biting your lower lip, you nod. "I’d like that. A lot, actually."

That night, back in your dorm, you realize something: during those hours with Jay, you didn’t think about Heeseung even once because you were completely lost in the moment — in his gentle touches, his warm voice, and the way he made you feel so good.

────────

The basketball team has just won a home game. The crowd is still roaring and the players are celebrating in the middle of the court. Sitting in the stands, you spot Ni-ki — Heeseung’s close friend and teammate. He’s younger than the others but carries himself with an easy, playful confidence.

When the court finally quiets down and the players start heading toward the locker rooms, you walk calmly through the internal hallways of the building, following the path that leads to the locker room area. To avoid being seen by Heeseung, you hide behind a pillar. From there, you have a perfect view of anyone leaving the locker room, while people passing through the hallway are unlikely to notice you.

A few minutes pass before the door opens. A group of players steps out, talking loudly, and Heeseung is right in the middle of them. You press yourself tighter against the pillar, holding your breath as he walks by, laughing at some joke.

More athletes leave after that until the hallway falls completely silent. Knowing most people have already gone and the risk of seeing Heeseung has passed, you finally step out of your hiding spot and walk to a brighter, more visible part of the corridor, right near the door.

When Ni-ki comes out, his eyes land on you almost immediately. He slows his steps, tilting his head with clear interest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No way. You actually waited? Most girls chase after the captain." He stops right in front of you, looking you up and down without even trying to hide it. "Damn, you look dangerous."

You feel a flutter in your stomach but smile back at him. "I thought the guy who kept stealing the ball and grinning like he owned the court deserved some attention tonight."

Ni-ki laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. "You’re bold, huh? I like that." He steps a little closer, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "So what’s your deal? Are you a basketball fan or did you just come here to make my day way more interesting?"

There’s a seductive tease in his voice — arrogant but fun. He clearly likes what he sees and isn’t shy about showing it. "Because if you’re here for me, you should probably tell me your name before I start calling you ‘mine’ in front of the whole team."

If you play this right, he might casually mention you to the team later, and Heeseung would hear your name and maybe get curious. But if you mess up and come across as too eager or awkward, Ni-ki could joke about it in the locker room and ruin everything before you even get close. Still, you trust yourself. "It’s y/n."

"y/n," he repeats, like he’s savoring the sound. "Nice. It suits you. So, y/n… do you always wait outside the locker rooms after games looking this good, or did I just get lucky today?"

"Only when the player on the court is showing off like he’s trying to impress someone."

Ni-ki moves even closer. "Ah, so you were really watching me? Careful, I might get too cocky." He tilts his head, his eyes tracing your face before dropping to your lips. "Or maybe that’s exactly what you want. To make me arrogant enough to do something about the pretty girl who showed up just for me."

His gaze continues sliding down from your lips, appreciating the way your top hugs your body. Suddenly, Ni-ki glances around, checking if anyone is nearby. The hallway is empty. Without warning, he grabs your hand with a grin. "Come with me for a second."

He pulls you into the locker room, but not near the entrance. He keeps guiding you deeper inside, past a small entryway and around the corner of the main area, where he presses your body against the wall. The tension that has been building finally snaps. Cupping your face with one hand, he kisses you with raw hunger — his lips moving against yours with confidence as his tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, a cocky little smirk on his face. "Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined."

He presses you harder against the wall and slides one thigh between your legs, creating just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. "You’re so fucking addictive." His hands slip under your top, warm palms gliding over your skin and sending shivers through you.

Suddenly, Ni-ki drops to his knees in front of you, looking up with an even more mischievous smile. "I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you waiting outside." His hands move quickly, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down along with your panties. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.

Ni-ki presses his mouth against your pussy like he’s starving for it — voracious and rough. His tongue licks long, wet stripes from your entrance up to your clit before swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God — Ni-ki…" you moan, one hand flying to his messy hair.

He moans against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "You taste so good." His tongue dives inside you, licking and savoring every inch like he can’t get enough. Messy and eager, his lips suck on your folds before focusing back on your clit with small, hungry sucks and licks.

He eats you out like he wants to memorize every taste, every reaction — switching between long, slow licks that make your toes curl and faster movements that force you to bite your lip to stay quiet.

"Ni-ki… that feels so good." He looks up at you while his mouth works, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart for him.

Ni-ki murmurs in response and doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue moves fast. "Ni-ki… fuck, right there," you gasp, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair as your hips start grinding against his face.

He slides two fingers inside you while his tongue keeps working your clit, curling them instantly against that perfect spot.

Your breathing turns ragged, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. "I… I’m gonna—" you try to warn him, voice breaking, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sucks harder on your clit and pumps his fingers faster.

Your whole body locks up for a second before a violent tremor runs through you. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as your clit pulses wildly against his tongue.

Ni-ki groans proudly against you, licking you through every wave, addicted to the way you fall apart. He keeps going until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he finally pull back, lips glossy and swollen. "Shit, you come so beautifully."

He rises to his feet with a satisfied smirk and pulls you into another kiss so you can taste yourself on his tongue, his hands grip your waist, pressing your body against his. "You’re so sweet. I could eat you every day, all day long."

You open your mouth to respond, but the metallic click of the main door handle cuts through the air.

You both freeze and footsteps echo on the tiled floor, accompanied by a familiar voice humming something.

It’s Jungwon — another teammate, the point guard.

"Shit." Ni-ki quickly grabs your hand and pulls you toward the shower area with its open stalls and curtains. Yanking one curtain aside, he guides you inside, and presses your back against the cold tiled wall.

The footsteps grow louder, closer. "Hey, is anyone still in here?" Jungwon’s voice sounds casual, like he heard something and decided to check.

Ni-ki presses a finger to your lips, leaning in so close that his warm breath brushes your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispers, almost inaudible.

Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but Ni-ki doesn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, the risk seems to excite him even more. Jungwon’s footsteps get closer, and right at that exact moment, Ni-ki pushes two fingers inside you without any warning. Your eyes widen and a sharp gasp almost escapes before you bite down hard on your lip.

He curls his fingers instantly, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with ease, a small mischievous smirk on his face as he watches your reaction. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, while his thumb presses firmly against your swollen clit.

Trembling violently, you bury your face in his neck, desperately trying to muffle the moans threatening to spill out. "Shhh," Ni-ki whispers right against your ear, but his fingers don’t stop — deep, curling thrusts that make your knees buckle. "You’re squeezing me so tight. Does almost getting caught turn you on?"

You nod frantically and bite down on his shoulder through his shirt to stay quiet as Jungwon moves just a few meters away. Ni-ki’s thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster, making your thighs shake and your walls flutter uncontrollably around him as you fight to stay silent. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.

Jungwon’s voice echoes again, closer this time. "I heard noises coming from here. Who the hell is in here?"

Noticing Jungwon getting closer, Ni-ki curls his fingers harder, rubbing your sweet spot relentlessly while his thumb works your clit in fast, precise circles. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a silent scream against his neck as pleasure peaks. Your pussy clenches violently around his fingers, dripping as waves of spasms run through you.

Finally, Jungwon’s footsteps retreat. The door opens and closes again. The second it does, Ni-ki pulls his fingers out and kisses you hard, swallowing the broken moan that finally escapes you.

Without breaking the kiss, he tugs down his basketball shorts and boxers in one quick motion, freeing his hard, thick, flushed cock. It’s already leaking at the tip from how turned on he is after eating you out and fingering you.

You reach for him without thinking — and without really knowing what you’re doing — wrapping your hand around his length and stroking slowly at first. You feel the heat and the way he pulses hot against your palm as your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the precum. "You’re so hard… I can feel how much you want this."

"Yeah? Then let me have you." He quickly helps you pull your jeans and panties all the way down your legs, kicking them aside before pressing you against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. One hand grips your thigh as he lines himself up and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, burying his cock deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch makes you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming fullness after everything that’s already happened.

He fucks you against the wall with firm, deep thrusts, his hips snapping forward while he holds you in place. "Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you harder, each movement pressing you against the tiles. "So wet and tight."

"Ni-ki… you’re so deep," your voice trembles with pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Don’t stop… it feels so good."

He keeps going like that for a while, fucking you firmly against the wall with his hands gripping your ass. But soon the position isn’t enough for him, with a low grunt, he suddenly lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you let out a muffled cry as he starts bouncing you on his cock, thrusting up with hungry movements that make your breasts bounce inside your top.

"Yes, like that… it feels so good," you moan while he fucks you in the air, your back pressed against the wall for leverage as he holds you like you’re weightless. The sensation is intense, every thrust hits so deep it makes your head spin and your toes curl.

"Open your mouth." He brings two fingers to your lips. "Suck them for me. I want to feel that pretty mouth while I fuck you."

You part your lips obediently and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them eagerly while he keeps thrusting into you. His cock twitches at the feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers, the taste of you still lingers on them from earlier, making you moan around them.

"That’s it," he says, eyes locked on your face as he watches you suck his fingers while bouncing you on his cock. "You look so fucking hot like this. Keep sucking just like that."

You do exactly that, swirling your tongue and sucking harder as he drives deep inside you, clearly losing himself in how good it feels.

You pull off his fingers with a wet pop and gasp, "Ni-ki… I’m so close again. I’m gonna come."

With a mischievous smirk, he pushes his fingers back into your mouth, moving them in time with his cock as he fucks you harder against the wall. "Then come for me again. I want to feel you squeezing my cock while you suck my fingers."

The dirty words combined with his relentless pace finally push you over the edge. You moan loudly around his fingers as your legs tighten around his waist. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you, making your entire body shake in his arms.

Ni-ki groans at the feeling of you coming and his thrusts turn erratic. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard inside you, pulsing with hot spurts while holding you firmly against the wall.

After a moment, he finally lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor again, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, he stays nestled inside your heat, kissing you slowly and almost lazily, like he isn’t ready to end the moment yet. "Fuck… that was incredible. And honestly? That was the best post-game sex I’ve ever had. No joke. I’m gonna be thinking about this pussy for days."

You let out a soft giggle, cheeks burning. "Really? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly after this."

Surprisingly gentle, he laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek before finally pulling out slowly. Both of you hiss at the loss. "That’s actually great. Means you’ll be thinking about me too. When can we do this again? After the next game, or maybe after every practice?"

────────

​The basketball team had crushed their biggest rival that night, and the victory party at the massive off-campus house is going to be loud, chaotic, and packed with people. This is the moment you’ve been carefully preparing for with every practice session and every new experience. Tonight is the night.

You choose a bold black dress that clings to your body like a second skin, short enough to show off your legs and thighs, with a neckline that reveals just enough to be daring. Your hair is styled exactly the way you like it, and your makeup is flawless, enhancing your features in a way that makes you feel powerful. When you look in the mirror, you look like someone who belongs in Heeseung’s world.

When you arrive at the party, the music is already pulsing through the walls, bodies are moving everywhere, and the air smells like alcohol and sweat. Your eyes scan the room until they find him.

Heeseung is sitting on the large couch in the main room like he owns the place — which he basically does. Two girls are practically draped over him. One is half in his lap, her hand resting possessively on his chest, while he has one arm casually around the other girl, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder as he talks to his teammates.

Spotting Ni-ki nearby, chatting with some of the other players, you walk toward him with confident steps because you aren’t going straight to Heeseung. No — you’re going to make him come to you. Ni-ki’s eyes light up with immediate recognition and interest.

"I can’t believe you’re here," he says with a grin as he pulls you into a side hug that lasts a second longer than necessary. "You look dangerous tonight. Come here, I want you to meet some of the guys."

You laugh softly and stay close to him, letting him introduce you to some of his teammates, including Jungwon. Your cheeks heat up as you remember that moment in the locker room, and when you glance to the side, Heeseung is watching — the girls are still around him, but his eyes are locked on you, following every move you make.

Ni-ki leans in and whispers in your ear, "You know, I still can’t stop thinking about that day in the locker room. Jungwon almost catching us… My fingers buried so deep inside you while you tried so hard not to moan. I’ve been replaying that shit all week."

Your face flushes instantly and the memory makes your thighs press together in a rush of heat. "Ni-ki…" you whisper back, half embarrassed and half turned on, "you can’t just say that here."

You’re too focused on Ni-ki to notice Heeseung pushing the girl off his lap, standing up, and walking over with his usual confidence. He stops right in front of you, his gaze shifting between you and Ni-ki, who is still grinning widely.

"What’s so funny over here?" Heeseung asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You two look like you’re sharing secrets."

You freeze for a second before answering quickly, a little too fast. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Come on. Nothing stays hidden from the captain, especially when my teammate is standing here grinning like an idiot and you’re looking all flustered." He steps closer, his full attention now on you. "Gonna tell me what got you so worked up, pretty?"

Ni-ki’s playful smile fades, replaced by something closer to jealousy as he watches the captain focus entirely on you. "We're just messing around. It's fun talking to y/n, that's all."

Heeseung looks you up and down slowly, taking in the way the dress hugs every curve of your body. "Want a drink? I can’t have you standing here empty-handed."

"Yeah… I’d like that."

Ni-ki’s jaw tightens as he glances between the two of you, clearly not happy about being sidelined, but he knows better than to push it with Heeseung. "Catch you later, y/n," he says, giving you one last look filled with a mix of jealousy and desire before disappearing into the crowd.

Now it’s just you and Heeseung.

He guides you toward the kitchen, his hand lightly brushing your lower back. “So… y/n,” he says, savoring your name like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. "You show up at my party looking like sin, talking to my boy while wearing this little dress that makes everyone wonder what you’re hiding underneath." A mischievous smile curves his lips as his eyes flick to your mouth for a moment. "You gonna let me find out, or are you just here to tease?"

You feel yourself getting wet just from the way he’s looking at you — that hungry stare and confident tone making your panties stick to you. "Talking about what I’m hiding under this dress already? We just got to the kitchen… but yeah, I might let you discover it." Your voice comes out bold because you refuse to sound nervous now, after waiting so long for this moment.

Deep down, all you can think about is how badly you want him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless.

Heeseung’s smile deepens, a flash of satisfaction crossing his face. He glances around to make sure no one is paying too much attention, then leans in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "There’s an empty room upstairs. Third door on the left, go up in a few minutes. I’ll follow right after so no one notices."

He pulls back, sliding his hand slowly along your waist before disappearing into the crowd. You wait a few minutes, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves, but it barely helps — the ache between your legs only grows with every passing second. After exactly five minutes, you head up the stairs and find the third door already slightly ajar. You step inside with shaky, anticipatory breaths.

Moments later, Heeseung appears. He closes the door firmly behind him and locks it.

The second the lock clicks, he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, intense kiss. He bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, then does it again harder just to hear you whimper.

His hands slide down to grip your ass firmly under the dress, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants.

"Fuck, this ass feels even better than it looks in that dress," he growls against your mouth, squeezing harder and spreading your cheeks. The kiss deepens, his tongue dominating yours while he continues kneading and groping your ass like he can’t get enough.

Heeseung’s mischievous smirk returns when he hears you moan into the kiss. He doesn’t break it as he walks you backward toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pushes you down and climbs on top of you.

A string of saliva connects his lips to yours when he pulls back to strip your dress off in one quick motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of your body.

"Look at you… such a pretty little slut, all dressed up for who? For me?" His hands make quick work of unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before he drags your panties down your legs and throws them away too, leaving you completely naked and exposed for him.

With a firm hand, Heeseung spreads your legs wide, getting a perfect view of your glistening, dripping pussy. "Already so wet for me, but it’s not enough." Suddenly he leans down and spits directly on your pussy, the warm string of saliva hitting your clit and dripping down your folds. The sight makes his rock-hard cock twitch inside his pants so he does it again, spitting a second time, then spreads it with two fingers, rubbing the wetness all over. "Gonna get this pussy nice and sloppy for me."

You moan loudly at the filthy feeling of his saliva sliding through your folds — hips jerk while your pussy clenches around nothing.

Heeseung drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke that makes you gasp. When you do, he laughs against you — the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.

"You taste so fucking good," he says before diving back in. He eats you out messily, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping down to push inside you, savoring every drop of your arousal mixed with his spit.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly as the overwhelming sensation hits you. "Heeseung, that feels incredible…"

He keeps going, licking deeper inside you while his nose brushes against your clit, but suddenly he pulls back, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. Without warning, he brings his hand down in a sharp, wet slap against your soaked pussy, the sting mixed with pleasure makes you cry out loudly. "Holy fuck, Heeseung."

"You like that too?" He slaps your pussy again, harder this time, hitting your folds and swollen clit. "Such a dirty girl, getting even wetter when I slap this pretty pussy."

"Yes— God, yes," you moan, thighs trembling. "It burns, but it feels so good at the same time."

That encourages him to give you another slap and right after, he buries his face between your legs again, sucking hard on your clit while two thick fingers push inside you. He fingers you mercilessly, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over as his tongue works your clit. "Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking my fingers like a good little slut for me."

He spits on your clit again, spreading the saliva with his tongue before adding a third finger, stretching you deliciously while pumping them faster and harder. All you can do is moan, your thighs shaking violently around his head. "Heeseung, I’m getting close… please don’t stop."

He obeys, alternating between long licks, hard sucks on your clit, deep thrusts of his fingers, and firm slaps that make your pussy burn and throb. "I’m gonna come," you moan, arching your back off the bed.

"Then come for me." Your entire body tenses, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as spasms rip through you. You come hard with a loud cry, thighs trembling violently around his head. But Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing out your pleasure until you’re oversensitive and whimpering.

When he finally pulls back with glossy lips and chin, he kisses you again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. "Get on your knees for me," he commands against your lips. "I want that pretty mouth around my cock."

It’s time to put into practice what Sunghoon taught you about sucking dick.

With a confident little smile, you gently push him so he lies on his back. Once he does, you position yourself between his legs and reach for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. He lifts his hips to help as you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up thick, hard, and leaking precum, making your mouth water at the sight.

You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, lean in, and press a soft kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, drawing a shaky breath from Heeseung. "That’s it… suck me like a good girl."

Feeling confident, you take him into your mouth and slowly suck on the head, swirling your tongue around it while savoring the precum there. Then you take him deeper, bobbing your head as your hand strokes what doesn’t fit, your movements growing smoother as you find the right rhythm. "Fuck… your mouth feels so good."

His praise encourages you to take him even deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. A wet choking sound escapes as your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you stay there for a moment, breathing through your nose the way Sunghoon taught you, before sliding back up and sinking down again.

Heeseung grabs your hair and tightens his grip as a needy groan escapes his throat. "Shit, that’s… ahh—"

You keep going, moving your head faster and sucking harder while your hand twists around the base, making his thighs tense and another desperate moan slip out.

It’s hard to believe that Heeseung, the guy everyone on campus talks about, the one with a reputation for being experienced and dominant, is moaning and whimpering under your mouth. It’s unexpected, but not in a bad way, especially because your pussy clenches around nothing every time he makes those sounds.

You pull back a little, sucking on the head while stroking him faster with your hand, which draws another broken moan from him. "Yes— fuck, yes, baby."

Wanting to pull even more reactions from him, you take him deep into your mouth again, gagging softly around his length as your head moves faster. Saliva drips down his entire shaft and onto your hand, making everything slick and messy.

Heeseung’s moans grow louder, breathier, and more frequent. "Fuck, I… I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop… I’m so close, baby."

You moan around him and suck harder until his thighs start to tremble. "Fuck… fuck—!" His voice cracks as the orgasm finally hits him.

His cock pulses hot and hard on your tongue, releasing thick jets of cum into your mouth. You try to swallow as much as you can, continuing to suck him through every last spasm and moan.

When you finally pull off his cock with a wet pop, Heeseung moves fast. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you — the whimpering guy from moments ago is gone. Now his eyes are filled with raw hunger.

"I’m not done with you yet." With a firm hand, he spreads your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. "Now I’m going to fuck you properly."

You blink at him, confused and surprised by the sudden shift because seconds ago he was moaning and almost begging under your mouth, and now he’s trying to act like the dominant guy everyone talks about.

He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds, coating himself with your arousal. Without warning, he thrusts into you hard in one brutal stroke, stretching you around his thick length.

The sudden fullness makes you cry out loudly, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my God — Heeseung!" The stretch feels so good, especially while you’re still sensitive from coming earlier.

He fucks you hard and deep from the very first thrust, his hips slamming against yours with relentless strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, this pussy is so wet and greedy," he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss while one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. He holds it for a few seconds before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air. "Look at you, sucking my cock like a good little slut. You love being used like this, don’t you?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, your voice breaking under the pressure of his hand. "You’re so deep inside me. It feels so good, Heeseung."

He chokes you again, a little harder this time, and the mix of pleasure and lack of air makes your head spin deliciously.

Heeseung pushes your legs back toward your chest, folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper. The new angle makes his cock hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, causing your eyes to roll back.

When he finally releases your throat, you gasp desperately for air, moaning loudly as he keeps hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Please… harder. I can take it."

Heeseung lets out a needy groan at your words, his hips stuttering for half a second before he gives you exactly what you asked for. He fucks you harder, rougher, driving his cock into you with punishing depth. The sound of skin slapping against skin grows louder and wetter as he pounds into you, pressing your body into the mattress.

Just as your next orgasm starts to build, he suddenly slows down, keeping his cock buried deep inside you but barely moving. "Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so, slut."

You whine desperately, trying to lift your hips for more friction. "Please, Heeseung… I need to come. I’m so close already. Don’t stop— I’ve been so good."

He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he starts thrusting with slow, teasing rolls of his hips. "Beg better than that, baby. I want to hear how badly you need it."

You’re a complete mess underneath him, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in your eyes. "Please… I’ll be so good for you. Just let me come on your cock, please. I need it so bad— I can’t take this teasing anymore."

Heeseung groans, but the sound turns into a needy moan as your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder again, his hand returning to your throat. But he isn’t done teasing you yet, so he edges you two more times — bringing you right to the brink with deep, brutal thrusts only to slow down and leave you whimpering and empty.

On the third time, you’re crying and babbling nonstop. "Heeseung… please, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts so good… I need to come. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come on your cock."

"Fuck… you look so pretty when you beg," he groans, his voice rough with his own need to come. He thrusts into you with brutal force, tightening his hand around your throat again while his hips move relentlessly. "Come then. Come all over my cock like the desperate slut you are. Let me feel you."

Your entire body seizes underneath him. Your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you, screaming his name.

Heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as your pussy milks him. "Fuck, that’s it. Good girl… you’re squeezing me so tight." A few more brutal, deep thrusts and he buries himself as deep as possible, coming hard inside you with thick, hot pulses.

Lying under him with your heart racing and breath coming in short, heavy bursts, his cock still buried deep inside you, your mind keeps returning to the sounds he made minutes ago — those desperate, broken moans and whimpers when you had him in your mouth.

Something about hearing him lose control like that makes heat pool low in your belly. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gather your courage, place a hand on his chest, and push him gently but firmly. "My turn to break you now. I want to hear you moaning under me." You say as you swing your leg over his waist, straddling him.

Heeseung’s breath hitches as his cock, already hardening again beneath you, shows just how much he likes the shift in power. "Baby… fuck," he gasps, his hands reaching for your hips.

"Don’t touch unless I say so." You slap his hands away, then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, stroking him slowly and teasingly while rubbing the head up and down your cum-soaked pussy. "Look at you. The captain of the basketball team. Everyone on campus thinks you’re this untouchable stud who ruins girls and never gets ruined."

You sink down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your ass meets his thighs — the stretch making both of you moan. You stay completely still, clenching around him just to watch him squirm, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. Then you start moving your hips slowly, rubbing your clit against his pelvis. "Ahh— fuck… please don’t tease me."

You begin riding his cock properly, using everything you learned — deep movements, tight squeezes, and powerful bounces that make your ass slap against his thighs and your clit grind deliciously against his pelvis.

"Fuck, baby," he hisses, his hands flying to your hips, but you grab his wrists and push them away. You lean down so your breasts brush against his chest and his cock hits even deeper. "Don’t touch. Just take this pussy like a good boy. Got it, captain?"

Heeseung’s cock twitches hard inside you at your words, and a low, surprised moan escapes his throat. "Shit… yes," he groans, clearly turned on by the way you dominate him. "Use me, baby. Fuck me."

So this was the real Heeseung? A whimpering mess when someone takes control. All that arrogance on the court, all those girls throwing themselves at him, and here he is — moaning and shaking underneath you like he can’t handle how good your pussy feels around him.

You watch every reaction closely, mesmerized by the way his lips part, his breath coming in short, needy gasps every time you bounce and grind on him, and the broken moans slipping from his throat when you clench hard around his cock.

'God, he really is a whimperer,' you think, amazed by the sight as you bite your lip and ride him harder. "All that reputation and you’re crying because a girl is riding you. That’s kind of pathetic… but so fucking hot."

Heeseung lets out another broken moan, his hands desperately gripping the sheets since you won’t let him touch you. "Fuck— you’re killing me. Your pussy feels too good, I can’t… ah— slow down a little, please."

You laugh softly and keep riding him mercilessly, clenching around his cock rhythmically, rolling your hips in tight, dirty circles while bouncing faster and faster, making sure he feels every movement. "You’re going to take this like a good boy, captain."

Heeseung moans louder, letting his head fall back against the pillow as his body trembles beneath you. "Shit, you’re so mean. Please don’t stop. Your pussy is squeezing me so tight— fuck, I’m losing my mind."

You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs so he has the perfect view of his cock disappearing into your dripping pussy. "Look how deep you are," you moan, rolling your ass on him in small, obscene movements. "You like watching me use your cock like this, don’t you? Such a big, strong captain… and now you’re moaning under me."

The pleasure and the delicious sight of the untouchable Heeseung moaning and whimpering push you toward your own orgasm. "I’m gonna come," you gasp, leaning down to kiss him messily while still bouncing on his cock. "And you’re going to come with me, crybaby."

Heeseung moans loudly, the nickname making his cock twitch hard inside you. "Fuck… I’m coming!" His hips buck up to meet your bounces as thick jets of cum spill deep inside you once again.

You follow right behind him, your orgasm crashing over you as you keep riding him through both of your peaks, milking every last drop from his cock.

"Don’t tell anyone about this," he begs breathlessly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That I’m… like this. Please. This is our secret, okay? Just between us."

────────

Jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, you clench around his cock and roll your hips in those filthy, perfected movements. His broken moans fill the room as you bounce faster, grinding harder against him. Suddenly, your phone starts ringing on the nightstand, Ni-ki’s name lighting up the screen.

You slow your movements, reaching over to answer the call while still sitting on Jake’s cock. "Hey," you sigh, slightly breathless.

Jake groans, his hips twitching desperately. "Babe… please don’t stop," his voice is full of need. "I was so close… keep going, please."

You cover his mouth with your hand to silence him to continue the call. Ni-ki sounds frustrated on the other end. "You free right now? We lost tonight and I’m pissed. Come to my dorm… I need that pretty pussy to help me forget this shit game."

"I can come over soon," you say, trying to keep your voice steady while rolling your hips on Jake. "Give me a bit."

"Good. Don’t take too long. I really need to fuck you," Ni-ki says before hanging up.

You drop the phone and start riding Jake again. "Sorry about that. Now be a good boy and come for me.

Later that night, you’re on all fours in Ni-ki’s dorm as he fucks you hard from behind. His hips slam against your ass with deep, aggressive thrusts.

In the middle of a particularly rough stroke, he suddenly asks, "I saw you leaving the hockey rink the other day. What the hell were you doing there?"

You moan and push back to meet his thrusts. "None of your business."

Ni-ki’s hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud smack. The sharp sting makes you clench around his cock and moan louder. He slaps you again, even harder. "Wrong answer."

"Again," you moan, arching your back. "I like it."

Ni-ki laughs darkly and keeps spanking you repeatedly while fucking you harder, his palm leaving red marks on your ass as he pounds into you until both of you come hard.

The next afternoon, you’re on your knees in Jay’s dorm with his huge cock stretching your mouth as you suck him. Jay has one hand gently stroking your hair, looking down at you with proud eyes.

"You’re doing so well. Taking me so deep like this… you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, angel."

You relax your throat, taking him as deep as you can, sucking harder, using every technique you’ve learned. Jay groans, his fingers sliding gently through your hair.

"Fuck… you’re incredible. Such a good girl for me. Keep going, you’re making me feel so good."

He keeps praising you the whole time, soft and sincere, until he finally comes down your throat with a soft, shaky groan, lovingly stroking your cheek as you swallow everything.

When you leave Jay’s room, still a little flushed and disheveled, you run straight into Sunghoon in the hallway. He looks at you, then at Jay’s door behind you, and his expression darkens instantly.

"What the fuck were you doing in there?"

You don’t answer, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let you. Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his own dorm, slamming the door behind you. He fucks you hard and jealous, bending you over the desk, taking you from behind with brutal, possessive thrusts.

"You’ve been fucking everyone lately, haven’t you?" he growls, driving deep and angry. "Greedy little slut."

You moan loudly, loving the jealous tone in his voice.

During the rough thrusts, your phone starts vibrating on the desk — it’s Heeseung sending message after message.

Heeseung:

I can’t stop thinking about that night with you.

Come over.

Baby, answer me.

I know you’re getting these.

Don’t play games with me.

Stop fucking ignoring me.

Sunghoon notices the constant buzzing, picks up the phone, uses your face to unlock it, and opens the chat. With a dark, possessive smile, he takes a photo of your flushed, teary-eyed, moaning face while he fucks you hard from behind and sends it to Heeseung with the caption: "She’s busy."

He tosses the phone aside and fucks you even harder after that.

────────

You finally understand why Heeseung never wants to be tied to just one person. Having options is liberating. Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung — each one offers something different: different rhythms, different kinds of pleasure, different versions of yourself. You don’t have to choose just one because you can have them all. Now you understand Heeseung’s lifestyle — it’s freeing.

And you realize you want that freedom too.

Thank you for reading! and a special thanks to everyone who asked to be tagged <3

@nithxhoon @megamatt43 @ameliaxantanova @mychemicalrawrmance @pradacava @2dolcee @wonwisps @aeri-xo @leavinglifecrazy @honeymoonave777 @cherrywOn @ruby-0021 @sosocide

[jungwonslover]

| 4POISON.1 ft. YJW

You return to Hogwarts expecting everything to feel the same — especially him. Yang Jungwon, your best friend of four years. Your constant. Until a love potion changes everything.

PAIRING: gryffindor!jungwon 𝓍 slytherin!femreader WORD COUNT: 20k+ — series ★⋆ CONTENT: fluff ⋆ angst ⋆ eventual smut hogwarts au, love potions, jealousy, yearninggggg, slow burn, possessive!won. avoidant!reader, miscommunication.. a lot of it, plot twists, feat. beomgyu of txt, enhypen & my beautiful wife @hueningskais ⦸ alcohol, love potion drugging, masturbating (m).

| PLAYLIST | LIBRARY | PART 2

V𓄧 I did not want this to be two parts . .forgive me juseyo. the second part is coming shortly. i'll make it up to you. thank you soo much @hueningskais and miss anna for proof-reading and doing so much for me, i appreciate it so so much MWAH. thank you miss @heedimples too, your input was soo helpful my girl⋆

The castle was a home like no other. You had never felt so welcome in a place that belonged to all — portraits that often gossiped to you, halls that invited you to explore them, passages that opened in time of need. The castle was a friend you welcomed into your heart without protest.

You were not someone who let things in easily, never had. People came with expectations, questions, and noise you did not always have the energy to answer. Hogwarts came naturally to you it all settled around you so easily it stopped feeling new almost immediately. Portraits whispering like bored aunties with nothing better to do, staircases shifting as if they had moods, doors opening for you like they were in on something you were not. You let it all in.

You received your letter at eleven years old. Being a half-blood — it was simply standard procedure. You stayed on for university like a lot of people did, but unlike most of them it didn’t feel like a choice. It felt like returning to something that had already claimed you.

And somewhere in the middle of it, you met him. It was annoying at first because your life was perfectly fine. Up until then it was quiet, controlled with minimal emotional risk — exactly how you liked it.

You had known Yang Jungwon for four years now, but it had not always been that way. You met in your sixth year after being paired up by Professor Snape for a three day run on Felix Felicis.

Snape paired you together like it was funny, like he didn’t just throw a Slytherin who avoids eye contact like it’s a sport with a Gryffindor who… looks.

The moment your names were called you had looked across the room, already mildly irritated, to the black-haired Gryffindor — only to find he was already looking at you. You vaguely recognized him. He was someone you had passed in corridors, one of those people who existed in your peripheral vision. You two had never spoken as there had never been a reason to, until then.

His expression did this small thing — eyebrows lifting, like he expected literally anyone else. The moment your eyes met, he looked away, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. He looked a little nervous.

You weren't too bothered to be paired with him, he seemed to be a good enough partner — at least he wasn’t Seamus.. low bar, but still.

The seat beside you was already taken. So you gathered your things without hesitation and moved — sliding into the empty space next to him instead. As you settled into the seat you had looked over to your old table. You were only a seat behind — with a perfect view of your previous place.

"Y/n right?" His voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned slightly, catching the way his eyes couldn’t decide where to land, like looking at you directly might be too much. Flickering between you and the chalkboard at the front of the room. You almost smiled.. almost.

"Yeah," you answer, a little softer than intended. He nods, almost immediately, like that confirms something for him. Even though he already knew.

Yang Jungwon was popular, though not in the loud, attention-seeking way others were. Known as the composed, hard-working Gryffindor, he carried himself with a kind of steady confidence that people trusted. Down to earth, reliable, kind but not soft. Never someone you could easily push around. He had made that clear and yet sitting beside you now, with your attention fully on him, he felt something in that composure slip.

He had never been someone easily taken by others. He had never found himself captivated by someone’s presence, never caught himself returning to the same person in his thoughts without reason, until you.

The first time Jungwon had noticed you, he had been half-listening in Herbology. His attention slipping as the professor droned on about Venomous Tentacula. His gaze had wandered, unfocused — until it landed on you.

You were seated a row ahead. Not directly in front of him but just off to the side, angled enough that he could see the curve of your profile. Your head rested against your hand, posture relaxed in a way that suggested you were not entirely paying attention either. Looking like you could not care less about Venomous Tentacula trying to eat someone two tables over.

All he knew about you was your house, Slytherin. Obviously. He had his own assumptions about you, but not in the obvious way. Most people assume all Slytherins are calculated and cold. They decide before you even utter a word — that you are aloof and detached. It's not that you don't feel things — it's that you feel them too much and learned the hard way that not everyone deserves access to that.

But you didn't seem to care for what others thought. You let them have their assumptions about you.

The plant in front of you swirled around your fingers as though it had chosen you. You did not react nor did you pull away either. You just let it weave between your fingers. Watching like it was mildly interesting at best. It was subtle.

The kind of moment no one would notice unless they were already looking.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow with something alike to curiosity flickering across his expression. Before he realized it, his own lips mirrored yours without his knowledge. Afterwards, it became a habit.

Not an intentional one — he never sought you out but his attention found you anyway. His gaze would drift in the middle of lessons, between notes, during long stretches of nothing. It would settle on you without a second thought.

Often times, he didn’t even let himself think about it long enough to question it. It was easier to let it exist as it was — something small and unspoken. You existed in his subconscious.

Which is why, when he heard your name called alongside his — it didn’t feel real. You were not supposed to exist like this, not in front of him, not real in the way everything else was. Not close enough to talk to or look at properly.

"Jungwon?" you said his name like it wasn’t a big deal, like he wasn't suddenly aware of everything. The way you tilted your head, the almost-smile you gave him as if you were being polite, not trying too hard.

"Oh! yeah, that's me." he replied rather fast. Realization settling in that he had spent more time thinking about you as an idea rather than as a person.. and now you were both.

You nodded, turning back to your notes and pulling out the correct pages as Snape rambled about ingredients.

You fell into a comfortable rhythm. Passing ingredients without speaking, writing notes like you shared a brain cell for a few hours. You had found yourselves to be great partners. Often times passing things between you wordlessly or having the answers the other didn't have.

By the second day, conversation came easier. You talked about things that had nothing to do with potions, debated topics you didn’t need to care about...and agreed on almost all of it. Almost.

"You Gryffindors and your pride" you rolled your eyes in faux annoyance as he passed you a serrated knife, a quiet scoff leaving him in return.

"I do not have pride! Besides you lot are practically evil." he shot back, leaning slightly against the desk. You dropped your jaw, exaggerated and offended like he had just personally offended your entire bloodline.

"That is a serious accusation." you deadpan. The Murtlap tentacle squelched unpleasantly under the blade — you winced at the texture, just a little, trying not to let it show. He noticed.

"Your stereotyping wounds me." you added flatly, beginning to write notes into both your books without thinking.

"Yeah, that was bad rage-bait," He grinned sheepishly while waiting for the knife, "Besides," you said flatly, glancing up at him with deliberate intent, "do I look evil?" you teased.

Jungwon scoffed automatically, ignoring the way he couldn't look away, fingers fumbling as you handed him the blade, just slightly in a way he hoped you didn’t notice.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as he adjusted his grip on the knife, "Completely. The devil in disguise." he responded as he added the cut up ingredients into the cauldron, focusing a little too hard on the task.

You laughed under your breath and smacked his arm, with no real force behind it. He laughed too but quieter.

From that day forward, you were rarely apart. It wasn’t something either of you planned, it just happened. One day turned into the next and suddenly it felt natural to look for him without thinking. The unregistered expectation of him beside you like he had always been there.

In the library, you would sit across from each other with books spread out between you, the intention to study long forgotten. He would kick your foot under the table just to get a reaction. Which, annoyingly — you let him.

Other times, he would be sprawled across your bed, entirely too comfortable in your space, half-listening as you rambled about assignments, deadlines, anything that crossed your mind.

You found yourself seeking him out without realizing it. Waiting for him and measuring parts of your day by whether or not he was there to share them.

Even on the days when everything felt slightly off, when something sat heavy in your chest or doubt crept in quietly — you found yourself at his door. Not to soothe you or to push your burdens on him, but to exist beside someone who didn’t need you to explain anything for it to feel easier. Because his presence made you feel better without trying.

You didn’t rely on people like that. Didn’t need people like that. Well, apparently you did.. at least when it came to him, which is… deeply inconvenient.

When you'd show up at his door, quieter than usual, a little distant, eyes not quite focused — he would let you in, something in his chest tightening at the sight of you like that. Because your upset, somehow always became his.

He wouldn't speak to you different nor did he make you speak, he would just sit besides you as you watched the life outside his window. You always said his view was better along with some bitter comment about Gryffindor privilege. He’d laugh every time, and just like that.. something would lift, just enough.

It scared him how easily you fit into his life. He found himself looking for you without meaning to, glancing toward the places you usually were, expecting to see you there like it was a given.

When he would find you, a grin would take over before he could stop it, because somehow — no matter how big the castle got, no matter how many people filled it, Jungwon always found you.

One time, he found you in your common room. He’d walked in with Ni-ki, half-listening to whatever he was saying. His attention had already started drifting, and then it landed on you.

You’d picked the far corner sofa — the one slightly too close to the fireplace, where it was warm enough to make people leave you alone after five minutes. You were curled into it, book open, fully committed to looking unapproachable. Which, ironically, had never worked on him

"Hey, miss," Jungwon greeted as he made his way over, dropping onto the sofa beside you without hesitation, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

You didn’t look up immediately. You let the page sit there for a second longer, like you were deeply invested in whatever paragraph you hadn’t actually been reading.

You shifted just enough to turn your knees toward him, the book still half open in your lap. "Hey, Won." you'd return lazily, not thinking about it. He did.

That was the first time you had called him that. He stiffened — just for a split second, as though he hadn’t just short-circuited internally over one syllable. You hadn't noticed because he had pulled his arm free between you and rested it along the back of the sofa, fingers brushing against your shoulder like it was nothing. Tracing small, idle patterns against your sleeve as his gaze dropped to the pages.

He also didn’t comment on the fact you hadn’t turned a page in five minutes.

Over time, you became familiar with his friends and him with yours. It just happened, the way everything else between you did. Conversations overlapped with introductions blurring into inside jokes. Before long, there wasn’t really a separation between your friends and his.

Your "friends" being Kenny, she was your best friend from day one, she was the type of friend that would go to war for you — loud where you weren’t, reactive where you were measured. The kind of person who would absolutely escalate a situation on your behalf without hesitation. If you felt something, she felt it louder.

And then there were Jungwon’s friends. Jake, a Ravenclaw Astronomy nerd. Somehow capable of making constellations sound like gossip. You didn’t understand half of what he said, but you listened anyway.

Ni-ki, a Slytherin Quidditch Seeker. Sharp and quick in a way that kept everyone on their toes.

And Heeseung, a Gryffindor Transfiguration major. Annoyingly perceptive, he always carried himself with an ease that made it seem like he understood more than he let on.

The two of you fell into an easy friendship with the group, however they did question your new found friendship. "You two look good together." Heeseung said casually, like he was commenting on the weather, tossing the words into the air without warning.

Jungwon choked — coughing as he turned too quickly, nearly twisting his neck to stare at him. "We're friends," Jungwon managed, the words coming out uneven, far less composed than he usually sounded.

A chorus of groans followed immediately. "Yeah, obviously," Ni-ki muttered. "Painfully obvious," Jake added under his breath. Jungwon frowned, defensive now. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Heeseung said easily, though the look he exchanged with the others said otherwise. They didn’t press it because, technically Jungwon was right.

You were just friends.

Then, quieter this time, "So," Heeseung started, leaning slightly forward, voice low enough that it didn’t carry beyond them, “What’s her friend’s name?”

Jungwon blinked, "…Kenny?" Heeseung hummed and Jake smirked faintly.

"So.. you don't like him?" Kenny’s voice came from somewhere behind you as she sprawled across her bed. She’d been watching you for months now, watching the way your friendship with Jungwon had unfolded and she wasn’t quite convinced there wasn’t any foul play going on between you.

"Kenn," you sighed, not even looking up from where you lay on your own bed, "How many times do I have to say it? He’s just a friend." She groaned and turned over to stare at you upside down. Her hair falling messily over the edge.

"Sure. Yeah." she muttered, entirely unconvinced. You rolled your eyes, used to this by now. "So what’s the pink-haired guy’s name?" she added, quieter this time.

You blinked. Then laughed loud, thanking her mentally for switching the topic as she grinned, unapologetic.

As your groups grew closer, so did Kenny and Heeseung who had fallen into something of their own. It hadn’t been sudden, by the time it became official, it felt almost expected. A year after you met Jungwon, they started dating. And somehow nothing really changed. Not in the ways that mattered, at least. Other than your teasing.

She once said "You know, I thought you and Jungwon would have gotten together before me and Hee— " she paused, catching your bewildered look.

"Jungwon?" you said suddenly feeling your oxygen supply run out, "Nah it's not like that." you said simply, even then she didn't press — only pressing her lips together in response.

At first people also thought your friendship with Jungwon was something else entirely, tossed out with knowing smiles and raised brows. "You two look really good together." And every time you both reacted the same way. With immediate denial, you'd dissolve into small shakes of your heads, overlapping explanations, a little too quick to correct them. It became routine.

Sometimes people didn’t ask you at all. They went to Kenny. "Is Jungwon actually taken?" someone had asked her once, leaning in like it was some kind of secret. She had only blinked at them, unimpressed. "Ask him yourself," she replied simply. She never clarified and never denied it either.

Jungwon got it too. Only he had no idea how to respond. Guys would approach him casual, like it meant nothing and he’d pause because he didn’t know how to answer. The obvious response was easy, "No, we’re just friends. Go for it."

But Jungwon didn't want to say that, nor did he enjoy the thought. Didn’t like the idea of someone else approaching you, talking to you like that, looking at you like that. So instead, he’d shut it down."We're friends." he’d say, not waiting for a follow-up, not giving them space to ask more. Not that they ever went through with it, because where you were, so was he.

Over time, the questions faded. People stopped asking and not because they stopped noticing but because they’d already decided. After all you'd been best friends for 4 years and you were together more often than not. And neither of you corrected them anymore.

You returned to Hogwarts after two years. This time as a University student or survivors, in a way. Those two years hadn’t been spent learning in classrooms or complaining about assignments. You had stayed —worked alongside the professors, helping keep the castle standing in the shadow of Lord Voldemort.

Even if no one had seen him. Even if he had vanished again like smoke slipping through fingers — the disappearances said enough.

Those two years had changed everything. Not loudly, not in ways anyone else could fully understand — but in the quiet, constant ways that mattered. You had learned each other in survival. It brought you all closer in ways no one else could comprehend. Every worry was shared, every fear met halfway. There was no space for pretending and no room for distance. The Room of Requirement became something more than just a hidden space. It became yours, it offered escape when the rest of the castle felt too exposed.

Jungwon knew where to find you, he always did. If you weren’t checking the protective shields or burying yourself in work no one else wanted to touch, you were there, trying to keep yourself busy, trying not to think and he never let you stay like that for long.

"Enough," he’d say, quieter than it sounded and you’d argue, of course. But he didn’t listen, he’d drag you back to his dorms if he had to, ignoring your protests until the exhaustion settled in properly. Watching over you after you'd finally given in. You always did.

Over the years, you had both grown into yourselves. It wasn’t something you noticed all at once it came in passing glances, in the way people started looking at you a little longer than before.

"Do I have something on my face?" you muttered to Kenny as you walked through the halls toward your dorms. Hogwarts University students no longer had to share quarters within their houses, they could room with whoever they like. Which is how you’d ended up at the very top of the university tower with Kenny.

She turned to you immediately, eyes narrowing as she scanned over your features — eyebrows knit in concentration. "Nope," she concluded after a moment, straightening. "You’re good."

You hummed, only half-convinced as you continued up the winding staircase beside her. You waved at a passing portrait that greeted you by name.

"—You’re just hot," she added casually. You scoffed turning to her, "Be serious."

"I am serious," she insisted, nudging your shoulder. "Did you not see the way Beomgyu was staring at you earlier?"

"Heeseung's friend? the Quidditch player?" you said as you turned your head slightly. Kenny groaned at your reaction. "Yes, that Beomgyu."

"He was totally eyeing you earlier." she winked as you reached the top floor. You hummed, any retort dying on your tongue when you saw that there were only two dorms on the top floor, most the other floors had 4 or more on each of them. You had no idea what you’d done to deserve that kind of luck but you weren’t about to question it.

Two doors stood opposite each other, a large curved window decorated the space at the end of the hallway, the light spilled through, inviting and warm. Making the space feel almost intimate.

You had both arrived early, eager to settle in — to decorate, to breathe in the castle before the chaos of the Sorting Ceremony began. As you neared the doors you heard voices from one, men specifically. You and Kenny slowed at the same time, sharing a look as if to say oh god. Kenny, unfortunately, looked far more interested than she should’ve been.

You, on the other hand? Already considering turning around and pretending you got the wrong floor. As if on cue the door swung open, a blonde haired boy walked out. You barely spared him a glance at first, too focused on reaching your own door until he made a noise.

"Y/n??" he gawked, you froze for a moment, then turned. "Jungwon?" you both spoke with raised voices. He laughed still a little startled but there was no hesitation in what he did next — he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug. It was immediate, familiar and not.

Because the second his arms wrapped around you, you noticed it. His arms felt, stronger.. broader. There was more of him than you remembered. His frame filled out, solid in a way that made your breath hitch just slightly.

Since when was he built like this? And then you breathed in. Bad idea.

He had always smelled good.. annoyingly so but now it was something warmer, deeper… addicting. As though someone had personally curated a scent just to mess with your composure.

"How did you guys know we're here?" he asked as he pulled back from you, still grinning. His hands lingering on your arms like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. You smiled automatically, your body was on autopilot while your brain was still catching up.

Your eyes instinctively scanning over him. You hadn't seen him in what felt like forever, your only form of communication had been letters, since you had been on holiday with Kenny for the summer. Letters didn’t prepare you for this version of him.

His hair caught your attention next. Once dark, now an ashy blonde that fell just enough into his eyes to make him blow it away every few seconds. It softened his features in a way that made him look different but still him. He caught you staring and smiled — smaller this time, almost shy. Like he knew and didn’t at the same time.

"We didn’t," you said, letting out a quiet laugh as you nodded toward the door behind him. "That’s our dorm." His smile only widened. Beside you, Kenny raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between the two of you, lingering on where his hands still rested against your arms. Clocked, immediately.

Before he could respond the other boys filtered out, coming to investigate the commotion — his hands left your arms almost reluctantly. "This year is going to be so good." Jake declared the moment he saw you both, his excitement immediate and infectious.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, leaning back slightly against the wall as the hallway filled with noise — overlapping voices, half-made plans, people talking over each other like they hadn’t just had an entire summer to do exactly that.

It was easy, like slipping back into something that already fits and yet — your eyes flicked back to Jungwon without meaning to. He was already looking at you. Of course he was. You looked away first, because you were not about to unpack that in a hallway at like… 10am. Still, your lips pressed together to hide a smile.

This year was definitely going to be something.

After greeting everyone you opted to decorate your room and unpack. Deciding unpacking was safer than socialising for more than ten minutes straight.

Barely 5 minutes had passed with your absence when you heard the door open. You were midway through murmuring an enchantment, flicking lazily as your clothes lifted from your suitcase and sorted themselves into your wardrobe.

You didn’t even need to turn to know who it was but you glanced over your shoulder anyway. Jungwon stood there, grinning like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

"Hey Won." you hummed, turning back like your heart didn’t just do something weird and unnecessary. Another flick of your wand sent books gliding into place on a shelf.

He stepped inside slowly, he noticed your posters already stuck around the walls — most of your possessions already found their home in your room. The fact that you’d basically moved in within five minutes because you hated living out of a suitcase.

"It feels like I haven't seen you in years." he said, stopping in front of you. You paused, setting your wand down before turning to face him properly. He was already looking at you. Not casually either — like he was actually looking, as though he was updating some kind of mental file on you. Or like he was taking note of everything he hadn’t been able to see through letters alone. Stop that.

Jungwon had always been like that though. Quiet about it, but present. He didn’t need a room full of people — just one. You.

He was the kind of friend who showed up without being asked, the second something felt off. The kind who would sit with you through your half-finished thoughts, letting you find your way to the point without rushing you there.

No pressure, no "Just say it already." Just there, annoyingly perfect. He knew he had a soft spot for you, you're his best friend. The one who challenged him without hesitation. The one who never raised her voice, even when hurt. The one he had missed more than he’d expected over the summer.

"I know," you said, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. "I missed you." you added. He tilted his head slightly, something softer settling into his expression.

"Come here." he murmured, it wasn’t really a request, he pulled you into him, arms wrapping around you before you could respond, and you melted into it almost instantly — a quiet, content sigh leaving you.

"I missed you too," he murmured into your hair. You hummed, your fingers drifted up to play with the soft blonde strands at the back of his head — like it was muscle memory.

He slid his hand from your back to your waist, his grip tightening around it. Just for a split second, but you felt it. He pulled back, and your arms fell away reluctantly as you stepped out of his space. He looked over you with narrowed eyes as though something wasn’t adding up.

"What are you looking at?" you teased stepping forward just to mess with him. Just enough to throw him off, he faltered before rolling his eyes in faux annoyance. You almost laughed.

"You look different." he spoke, not moving despite you being close enough you could see every detail on his sun lit face. The light spilled over half of his face, highlighting the soft curve of his lips as they parted in quiet amusement.

"Is that good or bad?" you questioned, he’d always thought you were beautiful but now there was something more. You were almost glowing — confidence and charisma, you’d grown into yourself in a way he hadn’t been there to see.

"Good," he said. "You look pretty—" he paused, then added quickly, "I mean, you’re always pretty." Right.

You turned your head, hiding the smile that tugged at your lips. You were not letting him see that.. he saw it anyway and exhaled through his nose at your reaction.

"Your hair…" you started, glancing back at him and looking over the strands falling over his forehead, the light catching in them.

"What about it?" he challenged.

"Suits you, it's pretty" you nodded. He gasped dramatically, falling back onto your bed. You laughed, shaking your head as you went back to finishing your room.

Conversation came easily after that. "Also, Kenn and I went clubbing, and I got so paranoid at one point because of this guy—" you started, pacing slightly as you spoke, wand flicking absentmindedly as objects whizzed past. Jungwon watched you.

"He was a muggle, I think… anyway, he kept trying to get between me and Kenny, and I got so pissed I could’ve hexed him—" you continued.

That was all Jungwon heard before he zoned out. Something tight had settled in his chest, something he didn’t want to name. "and then I went to get a drink and he just followed us—"

"Won?" He blinked, refocusing, still leaning back against your bed, propped up on his elbows. "Mm?" he hummed. "So he’s dead now, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, we killed him Dexter style." He huffed out a quiet laugh as the last of your belongings floated into place.

You heard a knock and a chestnut head peeked around the corner. "Heyy guys." Jake spoke with a goofy smile as he stepped into the room, "Hi Jake." you greeted, settling onto your bed beside Jungwon. "We’re all going to The Three Broomsticks, if you want to come," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Jungwon — who was playing with the hem of your sleeve.

Since when does he do that. Jungwon glanced at you, he was surprised to see your eyes already on him. "Yeah I'm down." you said, dragging your attention back to Jake before your brain can start over analysing like it's paid to do so.

"Won?" you added, quieter now, turning back to him — searching, though you didn’t know for what. For the little time you'd been back in his presence, you had felt a shift — it was was barely noticeable, like the world had tilted slightly off its axis. It wasn't something you listened to, even as your brain screamed that things were different. Even as it grabbed you by the arms and shook you, you ignored it.

Throughout your friendship you hadn't dated. Not seriously. Not even accidentally. It’s not that you couldn’t, you just… didn’t care to. There had been moments — people who almost asked, words that almost formed but something always stopped them.

You hadn't seen Jungwon staring holes into their eyes, his fingers curling into his palms. One boy had spewed apologies as he scrambled off, leaving you with an eyebrow raised and a "That was weird."

"Yeah, let's go," he hopped up, extending his hand out for you and without thinking, you took it.

But he didn't let go. Instead, he guided you gently behind Jake, your hand still in his, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s nothing and it should have been, but something unfamiliar threaded through the familiarity. His hand in yours felt comfortable but now you were aware of it. Which is annoying because you were perfectly fine not being aware.

You also had never over-thought anything physical with him before, not that that's what you were doing…

Kenny looked between you both, her eyes immediately dropping to your hand in his loosely. Her smirk was instant, like she just unlocked a new form of entertainment.

"You okay?" Jungwon murmured, leaning down so his voice brushed against your ear. He pulled back, just enough to look at your lips as you talked.

"Mhm," you nodded quickly and then, you slipped your hand from his — stepping forward to urge the others along. You didn’t look back at him, didn’t see the way his hand lingered in the air for just a second longer than it should have.

Didn’t know if he noticed the way your fingers had twitched before you pulled away. Definitely didn't think about the fact that for the first time in four years — being around him doesn’t feel simple, and that might be a problem.

The air was crisp, fresh in a way that made everything feel lighter, clearer. The hills stretched endlessly in the distance, and the pristine lake sat below you as you walked along the bridge.

You slowed, falling a step behind the others without realizing it. Your gaze softened as you took it all in, a small smile settling on your lips at the quiet beauty of it. You breathed out, shoulders dropping a little.

Jungwon looked around mid-conversation, half-listening to Jake ramble about something irrelevant, and when you weren’t there, something in his chest did this annoying tight thing. Like when you forget something but don’t know what.

Until he turned and there you were, a few steps behind, walking like the world had paused just for you. It was the same thing that had caught his attention the very first time. He hated how that got him, as though every time was the first time.

He slowed without thinking, letting the others move ahead as he fell back into step beside you. He didn't speak — his arm brushing lightly against yours as he followed your gaze out toward the horizon.

The Three Broomsticks had a comfortable amount of people wandering in and out, it smelt faintly of butter-beer and a woodsy scent you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Your group took to the corner booth as usual, you sat besides Jungwon at the end of the booth and ordered a butter-beer as you all settled into chatter and laughs sipping your beers. As your cup emptied, you leaned back with a quiet sigh, the warmth of it settling heavily in your chest.

You slumped sideways until your weight rested against Jungwon’s shoulder. His shoulder shifted just slightly to fit you better, like it was muscle memory. His voice kept going, talking to the others, but softer now, closer. He smiled small, fond but you didn’t see. You felt the faint vibration of his voice and his hand settle on the small of your back against the seat.

"Sleepy?" he asked, brushing against your hair. "Mm, no," you mumbled, lifting your cup slightly before setting it down with a quiet clink. "Just recovering from this, it was so filling." You pushed yourself upright, pulling away from his shoulder — acting like your heart didn’t just do a weird little thing.

But his hand didn’t move. He just hummed, fingers moving in slow circles like it was the most normal thing in the world, and the annoying part? It was normal, it’s always been normal.

The front door swung open, the bell chiming lightly as a group of Quidditch players walked in, their voices loud and easy, already caught up in talk of the upcoming season. Many of them were back with hopes of becoming successful professional players.

That included Choi Beomgyu. Heeseung and Ni-ki were up instantly to greet the Chaser, shoulders knocking together in greeting. As their chatters died down he was pulled into your table and then into the seat beside you.

"Hey Y/n." he sent you a lazy smirk as he settled into the seat "Hey." you returned with a slight tilt to your head. You’d always known him — never closely, but enough. Passing smiles, casual greetings. You'd often see him around since he was also a Slytherin — he always sent you a boyish smile if he saw you sat in the Quidditch stands.

His eyes flit from yours to your lips and then over the rest of you. You noticed that too. "How was your summer?" he asked after taking a long sip of his butter-beer. "It was great, How was yours?" As he spoke, you felt it.

Jungwon's hand had stopped its lazy motions and now rested fully against your lower back, fingers spread like he’s anchoring you there without making a show of it. Your eyes flickered to him for just a second. He was leaning closer now.

"Hey, you guys wanna get going?" Jake called, breaking the moment. Voices overlapped in agreement, chairs scraping as everyone stood. Heeseung invited Beomgyu along without hesitation. Jungwon said nothing.

He bumped against you as you walked, your friends gathered ahead of you as the path stretched back toward the castle. Beomgyu glanced back once, eyes flicking between the two of you. Taking in the space, the distance, the way it didn’t quite feel like distance at all.

Jungwon looked to you and while you took in the world, he took you in.

"I’m doing the re-run on potions tomorrow," you groaned, dragging your attention back to him. He barked out a quiet laugh. "Me too."

"Snape?" he added — amused. "Hey! Snape loves me." you laughed swatting at his arm. "Of course he does!" He teased, "his bias towards you Slytherins is too obvious."

"Whatever." you rolled your eyes, yelping as he poked your sides. "I really missed this," he spoke low.

"I missed this too." you responded easily, he smiled flashing his dimples and for a moment, you just looked at him — really looked. Eyes catching on the curves of his cheeks and the flicker of mischief in his eyes. He seemed to have to same idea, looking over the details on your face. Pupils dragging side to side, you both looked away after a moment without a word.

As you reached the dorms your friends all turned, stopping you in your tracks "Thoughts on going to the lake, we have time to kill before the sorting ceremony?" Heeseung suggested, glancing between you all.

"…Yeah, okay," you nodded with the others, like you weren’t internally negotiating with yourself. Everyone else agreed easily, except Beomgyu who waved it off with something about joining later. You all filtered into your rooms.

You pulled out a bikini you’d bought over the summer, layering it with loose joggers and a top. Low effort, high reward. Soon enough, you were all heading down together arms full of towels and drinks, laughter echoing through the halls.

"Give that here." Jungwon’s voice came from behind you as he took the bag from your shoulder, without waiting for permission. He looked almost offended that you’d been carrying it yourself.

"Thanks, Won," you said glancing back and sending him a smile. You didn’t see Jake’s smirk. Kenny, however, absolutely did. "You’re getting boyfriend privileges," she sang under her breath.

You rolled your eyes, "He’d do that for anyone." Even as you said it, something in your brain went …would he though? She only groaned, unconvinced.

The Great Lake stretched endlessly before you, framed by rolling hills that dipped into the distance. It had been a while since you'd been here, not by choice. Between N.E.W.T.s and those two years confined to the castle, moments like this had been rare — almost unfamiliar.

But now the air was light, warm — the sun was out. It hung high above you as you laid out blankets, dropping your things with a satisfied sigh before standing over one of them — kicking off your joggers, pulling your top over your head.

You stretched, rolling your shoulders, fingers combing through your hair — completely unaware of anything beyond the sun on your skin.

Jungwon had been standing near the water, looking out across the lake and zoning out like he does when he’s thinking too much. Until he turned and saw you. He just, stopped.

His gaze locked without meaning to and dragged, slowly, over you as you moved — unthinking, unguarded. He didn’t even notice Jake walking up behind him. He followed his line of sight and smirked.

"She looks good, hm?" Jake murmured clapping a hand on Jungwon's shoulder, "Shit— don’t do that," Jungwon exhaled, his body jolting slightly, a faint flush crept up his neck.

Jungwon turned back toward the lake quickly, "She always looks good," he said, too fast, too dismissive like he needed to neutralise it. "Just friends?" Jake asked incredulously. "Yeah."

"So you wouldn’t care if I tried something with her?" That did it. Jungwon turned fully, deadpan. The look he gave Jake was enough. Jake laughed, clapping his shoulder. "Thought so. What are you waiting for?"

"I’m not— that’s not—" Jungwon cut himself off, jaw tightening. "We’re friends, Jake." he finalised. He opened his mouth and then stopped when he saw you walking towards them.

You weren’t paying attention to any of that, obviously. You were looking at the water, already halfway mentally in it, and you reached out, fingers wrapping lightly around his wrist, then slid down intertwining with his fingers like it was muscle memory.

His breath caught for a second, before he tightened his grip, grounding himself in it. You stepped into the water first, testing it with your toe before wading in fully. When you deemed it safe you stepped in completely. Then you turned back to him, smiling. He followed without hesitation.

Jake watched for a moment, turning around with a shake to his head "Idiots."

"Ah— fuck," Jungwon muttered as the water climbed higher, soaking through his clothes. You laughed, pulling him further in until the water reached your waist, he wrapped his other hand in yours.

The breeze danced through your hair, sunlight catching on the ripples around you as you tilted your head back slightly, eyes closing for just a second. The water was warm and inviting, the blonde in front of you inched closer. Without thinking his hand slipped from yours only to rise to your face. Your brain went very quiet. Which was rare, concerning, even.

He brushed a stray piece of hair away but his fingers lingered at your jaw. Careful, like he didn’t quite trust himself. Your lips quirked at his touch, then he dropped his hand and a drop of rain hit your shoulder. Another followed.

"Do you wanna go back inside?" he asked. You shook your head immediately, a grin spread across your face and before you could act normal about it you stepped back and splashed him square in the chest.

He gasped dramatically standing there for moment in shock. "Oh.. you’re dead." you barely had time to laugh before he lunged forward, sending water crashing back toward you, enough to make you shriek.

"Jungwon!—" you huffed, you stumbled backwards through the lake while your hands flew up too late to defend yourself. "You started it!" he shouted back, his laugh cracked loudly across the lake, messy and breathless and so stupidly pretty it made your chest hurt a little.

The others sat near the shore watching like this was the most entertaining thing they’d seen all week. Which, to be fair, Hogwarts was basically just academic trauma and near death experiences, so your standards for fun got weird here.

Both of you were soaked within seconds. The rain picked up, steady now — but the sun hadn’t disappeared, casting everything in a strange, golden haze, like a memory while it was still happening.

By now all of you were completely drenched, you waded through the water to the shore and grabbed your wand — relief settling in as you saw your belongings still dry beneath the shield you’d cast earlier.

You flicked your wand, casting a shield overhead to block the rain like a makeshift umbrella. The others immediately crowded underneath it with grateful groans, wrapping towels around themselves, you opted to do the same but Jungwon had beat you to it.

He picked it up and wrapped it around your shoulders rubbing against your arms. Your breath caught slightly and only then did you notice how his black shirt clung to him, soaked through — defining the lines of his arms, his shoulders, the shape of him in a way you hadn’t seen before.

You looked away, back to his face. This was safer.. right. Not really, because he was staring at you with this soft concentration that somehow felt worse. He was entirely too focused on drying your arms, still rubbing. You shivered, exaggerating it just slightly with teeth chattering sounds as you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around him.

"So dramatic," he snorted, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he held you closer — his hands moving up and down your back, warming you through the fabric.

"Wait— I’m an idiot," you laughed after a few moments, suddenly pulling back. He blinked. "That’s not new—"

You ignored him and grabbed your wand, flicking it with practised ease. A warm gust of air spilled out, surrounding you instantly. Everyone huddled around you like a pack of penguins, they all groaned in relief.

"Thank fuck for you" Jake sighed as he leaned against you without thinking. The flicker in Jungwon's expression was brief but it was there.

After a hot shower you changed into your new robes, which were a lot more flattering than the school attire. Still house colours, still mildly humiliating, but at least you only had to wear them in classes.

You made your way down to the Great Hall with your friends, the familiar hum of voices growing louder with every step. As usual, you all split at the entrance — murmured "See you laters." and fleeting touches before heading toward your respective house tables. Jungwon gave you his signature smile, his hand brushing over your shoulder in passing. Then he was gone, slipping toward Gryffindor's table.

Kenny slid in beside you as Ni-ki took the seat across, already reaching for something on the table. A moment later, another presence settled at your side, Beomgyu.

"Hey," he greeted, offering you a soft, easy smile. "Hey," you returned, turning toward him.

He asked about the lake, about the afternoon, interested in a way that didn’t feel forced. You didn’t notice the way Jungwon’s eyes had already found you across the hall or see his gaze narrowed slightly, settling on the back of Beomgyu’s head. Lingering there, unmoving, even as the Sorting Ceremony began.

The first student was sorted into Slytherin. Which had you turning to stick your tongue out to Jungwon — how you usually would. Only he was already looking, his expression softened the second your eyes met, a small smile tugging at his lips. You faltered for a moment and then he threw you an eye-roll at the announcement.

Beomgyu had watched the exchange, curious. He leaned in close to your ear, "Are you and Jungwon dating?" he whispered. The question hit differently this time, it felt louder, like a ringing in your ear. You felt as though you'd been snapped out a daydream.

No, Jungwon isn't your boyfriend, it had never been discussed between you. Never defined but then your brain, traitor that it is, starts listing things.

You didn’t let anyone act the way he did with you. No one else held you like that. Looked at you like that or knew you the way he did and yet that didn't change the fact that, the label had never wavered.

Four years. No confusion. No weirdness. No “What are we?” conversations at 2am like some tragic situationship. Just… him and you.

Which, logically, should’ve been comforting but lately it felt like wearing something that used to fit perfectly and now it sat just slightly wrong — not enough to throw it away, but enough that you couldn’t stop noticing it.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you were overthinking like a normal person who refuses to be embarrassing out loud. And you weren’t about to be the girl who ruined a perfectly good thing because she couldn’t keep her thoughts in check.

"No," you said finally, shaking your head. "We’re just friends."

Beomgyu’s grin widened slightly. "Okay." he replied, leaning back in his seat.

Jungwon had of course seen your exchange. Not the words but enough. His jaw was tight, teeth grinding faintly as his gaze flicked between you and Beomgyu, something restless settling beneath his skin.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. By the end, you were full, tired, and mildly overwhelmed by your own thoughts, which was honestly rude. You all trudged back to your dorms with light chatters. At the doors you said your goodnights and split off again.

Sleep came easily. It always did when your brain decided to emotionally clock out instead of process anything.

The morning came quietly. Soft light filtered through the windows as you got ready, rubbing at your eyes and stifling yawns as you moved through your routine. Half on autopilot, hair, robes, minimal effort because you refuse to be perceived this early in the morning.

By the time you made your way down to the Great Hall with Kenny, the familiar buzz of voices had already settled in.

You slid into your usual place, picking at fruit and sipping your tea as conversation drifted lazily between your friends. Jungwon sat across from you at some point, without asking, he reached over taking your cup and bringing it to his lips.

He hummed satisfied, before setting it back down in front of you like it was his to begin with. You stare at him for a second. Right. We’re doing that now.. You nudge his foot under the table anyway, because apparently you love enabling it.

Beomgyu slid in besides you, all easy smiles and bumps your shoulder “Morning.”

"Morning." you replied. "We should get going." Jungwon said suddenly, his tone firmer than necessary.

"Yeah, lets go." you agreed, already standing. "See you guys later."

Kenny gave you a pointed look, knowing, you ignored it. Jake didn’t miss the shift either, his eyebrow lifted slightly as his gaze flicked toward Jungwon.

The classroom felt the same as you settled into your seat beside Jungwon, a strange sense of deja vu washed over you. You turned your head slightly, studying him. He was already looking at you, his head tilted in recognition, almost curious.

"Deja vu." you whispered, he nodded, lips catching briefly between his teeth, like he felt it too.

"Hogwarts University students," Snape’s voice cut cleanly through the room, "you are here for a two-week re-run course on unnecessary, ineffective, or unneeded potions." His chalk scratched sharply against the board as he listed them.

"Babbling beverages. Stupid potions. Confusing concoctions." A pause. "And Amortentia. An arguably unneeded and unethical love potion."

Beneath the title, bold and unmistakable, he wrote,

"NOTE THAT AMORTENTIA DOES NOT CREATE TRUE LOVE BUT A TEMPORARY OBSESSION."

Your eyes lingered on it. Temporary, right. The first class was simple, babbling beverages and unsurprisingly, you were paired with Jungwon.

You fell into your usual rhythm of cutting the ingredients and writing in turns as though no time had passed at all. You stewed the Alihosty leaves first and added the Billywig stings as Jungwon stirred counter-clockwise, then went in the bile and leech-juice.

You potted the light brown substance into a vial and handed it to Jungwon so he could cork it properly. Snape sauntered over past each station with sharp disinterest. Sniffing and prodding at the goop in each pot. He sent some glares with flares to his nose until he reached yours.

"This is.. sufficient." he spoke looking between you both, "Thanks sir." you both hummed in return.

"Think that's the nicest he's ever been to me." Jungwon murmured in your ear as Snape retreated to the front desk. That earned him a laugh.

The next classes blurred together in similar patterns. You went through the same motions except Beomgyu lingered more and talked more, finding reasons to be near your group. You didn't mind, he was easy to talk to.

But Jungwon was becoming almost restless, he lingered more. Looked at you like he wanted to say something like the words were right there but he just… didn’t.

By the time you made it to the Quidditch stands, the air had turned crisp. You sat with your friends, eyes following the players as they darted across the sky. Jungwon besides you as usual. It was Slytherin vs Ravenclaw, which meant Ni-ki and Beomgyu were playing.

Beomgyu slowed mid-air as he passed your section, hovering just long enough to wave but then he waved again. Smaller, directed at you. You smiled back automatically because… you’re not rude and also because it would be weird not to. Social norms are exhausting.

You didn’t notice Jungwon’s quiet huff, didn’t feel his gaze settle heavier on you. You sniffed a little at the cold before turning to him. "What?" you asked with amusement tinged in your voice. He didn't falter, if anything his lips curved just a little more.

"Nothing," he said. "You cold?" You nodded, about to say you’re fine but before you could do anything about it, he was already pulling you closer.

Your side pressed against his, your hand lifted and placed in his lap, his fingers threading through yours like it was instinct. Oh okay.

He rubbed slow circles into your skin, then lifted your hand slightly, bringing it closer to his lips blowing warm air against your fingers. His eyes never left yours. You bit the inside of your lip without realizing, holding something back — something you couldn’t quite name.

His gaze dropped to your lips and stayed, for a second too long. Then he tore it away, lowering your hand back to his lap — but not letting go. By now you were mentally somewhere else entirely.

Above you, the game continued. People were yelling, Jake was probably commentating like he’s being paid for it, Ni-ki was doing something illegal on a broom but neither of you were really watching anymore.

At some point Beomgyu circled back around and this time — he noticed. The way you were pressed into Jungwon’s side. The way your hand rested, laced with his, something in his expression shifted.

His jaw tightened slightly, eyes narrowing as he flew past. You didn’t notice but Jungwon did and for a brief second, his lips quirked up.

The fourth and last class was on Amortentia, the strongest and deadliest love potion. As Snape had so bluntly put it, the most unethical and you're just.. casually brewing it on a random Tuesday.

You stood at your usual station with Jungwon sleeves pushed up, already moving before you even think about it.

You started by heating the water, steam curled softly into the air as the scent of something faintly sweet lingered beneath it. Jungwon added the bruised peppermint flower heads and you added the peppermint leaves. The two of you moved in quiet sync.

"Apparently it smells different for everyone," you murmured, glancing over your shoulder briefly. Like you’re not even slightly curious what his would be.

He hummed in response, tipping the crushed moonstone into the cauldron as you stirred anti-clockwise, adding the rose thorns with careful hands. The potion shimmered faintly, suspiciously pretty and definitely illegal in at least five countries.

From then it was a waiting game, he placed the cauldron in a dimly lit closet as instructed. Snape’s voice cut through the room once more. "You’ll return later," he said. "Let it settle."

You pack up your things, already halfway out the room, when you heard her.

"Jungwon," Penelope Clearwater’s voice slid in, sweet but sharp around the edges. She talked of him helping her in potions. You didn’t need to hear the rest, you already knew.

And then you decided… yeah, no. You were not doing this today, so you didn’t wait, didn’t interrupt. You just left. It wasn't dramatic — it was just easier.

Because she has this way of talking that makes you feel like background noise and you don’t do that. Not for anyone, but Jungwon had noticed too late. He was already suppressing a sigh as Penelope spoke, his patience thinning. "Can you just ask Snape?" he said flatly. "Or your partner."

"Seamus?" she scoffed. "That bloody idiot couldn’t tell a moonstone from a bezoar." she huffed in annoyance. Jungwon barely heard her, he was already looking around for you but you weren’t there.

"I’ve got to go,” he cut in, not waiting for a response. "I hope you find the help you need."

You hadn’t meant to go anywhere in particular. Your feet carried you toward the dorms out of habit, your mind quieter than it should have been until you heard a noise, low and grinding almost — like bricks moving.

You paused and stepped back and there it was. The Room of Requirement. Waiting for you, you exhaled slowly before stepping inside.

Bookshelves lined every wall, filled to the brim. A fireplace crackled softly along one side, casting a golden glow across the room as though the room was actively telling you to relax. In the far corner was a nook, carved into the wall like it had always been there. Soft blankets, scattered pillows, a large window framing the view beyond — rolling hills, the lake stretching endlessly beneath the sky.

You walk over, running your fingers along the spines of books until one caught your attention — Extinct Creatures. Good enough. You then kicked off your shoes and climbed into the nook, the cushions sank beneath you, welcoming, familiar.

You barely made it a few pages in before your eyes began to drift. Your breathing slowed.

Jungwon had walked back into the classroom in search of you, and then he tried the dorms. As he went back to the stairs, he saw it, the outline of a door that hadn’t been there before.

He stood directly in front of it and closed his eyes thinking you. The next moment he opened them the door had changed — larger now, curved, silver handles gleaming softly under the light. He didn’t hesitate. His eyes moved quickly, scanning the bookshelves, the fireplace and then you.

Curled with your knees against the window, your head against a fluffed pillow. As he walked closer he felt relief wash over him — your chest moved up and down gently as you breathed deeply in sleep. He couldn’t help it. The way his eyes moved over you as he climbed into the nook beside you — careful, deliberate, like even the smallest movement might wake you.

Not touching you, not until you stirred and turned. A soft sound left you, something content — unaware as your head found his chest. Your hand rested against his hip like it had always belonged there. Jungwon’s breath hitched, uneven now — completely out of sync with your slow, steady breaths.

He froze completely. Unsure where to put his hands, what to do, how to exist without disturbing you. One arm was trapped beneath you, already beginning to go numb. The other hovered awkwardly at his side.

Then you moved again, your leg slid over him, settling across his lap as you buried your face into his neck, exhaling softly against his skin. He sucked in a quiet breath, sharp and careful like even breathing too loud might ruin this.

He shifted slightly, freeing the arm pinned beneath you and finally he hesitantly wrapped it around your back, holding you.

You mumbled something incoherent, your voice warm and drowsy against his neck, and he let his head fall back slightly trying, desperately to relax into it.

Trying not to think and trying not to feel everything all at once. He didn’t know how long passed, minutes maybe more until you stirred again. You groaned quiet against him as you shifted, pressing closer without meaning to.

Your eyes didn't even open yet but your brain caught up real fast. You don’t panic, you're not someone who panics, you process and pretend you meant to do this. Fuck.

"Jungwon?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. "Hm?" he replied softly, forcing a lazy smile into his tone. "Morning."

You shifted again, this time pushing yourself up just enough to swing your leg fully over him, settling on top of him without hesitation. Chest to chest. Your head dropped back into the crook of his neck like it was instinct.

His jaw clenched, a quiet, strangled sound left him as though you'd wounded him. You lifted your head slightly, brows knitting. "You okay?"

His cheeks were flushed now, his breathing uneven and shallow. You didn’t understand. Couldn’t. Your hand came up, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb brushing against warm skin. "You’re so hot," you murmured, frowning slightly as if trying to figure it out. Then you shifted again and he exhaled sharply.

"Don’t— move," he said quickly, his hands gripping your thighs — firm, grounding, tense. You blinked at him, slowly.

He forced himself to breathe through it, his hands sliding slightly higher before stilling again, like he didn’t trust himself to move any further. Before you can even decide how to recover your dignity, the door creaked open.

Kenny stepped in and froze. Her eyes landed on you and then on him, then back again. Her jaw dropped — slowly giving way to a smirk. "Oh?" she said, dragging the word out. You stilled as heat creeping up your neck.

"What are you guys doing?" she asked, her gaze flicking over Jungwon’s dishevelled state with barely concealed amusement. You sit up like this is completely normal behaviour.

"We’re actually about to check on our Amortentia," you replied and you slide off him like nothing happened.. because nothing happened.

Completely unaware of the situation you’d just left him in. Jungwon sat up behind you, hunched slightly, hands braced at his sides. His shoulders tense, like he’s trying to reboot his entire system.

Kenny hummed, clearly entertained. "Right," she said, already turning. "Have fun with that." Something about a date followed as she disappeared through the door, laughter lingering behind her. "Won, are you good?" you tilted your head. He nodded quickly, a tight-lipped smile pulling at his mouth.

"Yeah— I’ll meet you there," he said, voice just slightly off. You don’t question it. You should but you don’t. "Don’t take too long," you added lightly, offering a small wave as you stepped out. The second you left Jungwon had sighed, loud and harsh — almost frustrated. He checked the corridor, making sure you were gone, before heading straight for his room.

He locked the door and stripped himself of his clothes — which were uncomfortably sticking to him.

He had successfully hidden his raging boner from you b ut he couldn't find it in himself to enjoy it — he groaned as he looked down at the reddened angry tip of his length which was refusing to go down. He turned on the shower and stepped in. The water ran cold, biting against his skin as he stepped under it, bracing his hands against the glass. His head dropped forward.

"Fuck…" he muttered under his breath, voice low and strained. His lip caught in his teeth as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his mind wandered to your chest flush against his.

Everything about that moment replayed too vividly. He pumped his hand up and down, slowly — a groan caught in his throat. His eyes were knit shut, the image of your body on his urged him to fasten his hand. You looked so fucking pretty on top of him — his teeth bit down harder.

He turned so his head was now leaning back, pressing his weight against the glass. He released his lip as his hand sped up — small fast breaths echoing through the room.

One image in particular was stamped in his head, his hands gripping your thighs like they were his to claim. The way your skin felt on his, the warmth of your touch — your breath against his neck. His hips stuttered as the coil snapped, his jaw slacked with shaky breaths as his high took over, ropes of his cum leaking out onto his hand and stomach.

He breathed heavily trying to catch his breath, he felt guilt flood his mind. He had thoughts of you before — thoughts of how you'd sound, how you'd taste, but he had never let himself do this. That restraint he had before had snapped in one moment.

His breathed in harsh again, sharper this time, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He stayed there longer than he needed to. By the time he walked back into the classroom, his hair was still damp, water clinging to the ends as it curled slightly at his neck.

You stood at your stand, writing in the notes you hadn't done earlier when Jungwon walked in. He kept his eyes anywhere but you at first.

"Hey," he said, stepping up beside you, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to look casual. "Hey," you replied lightly. "Good shower?" you asked with your eyes still on the pages in front of you.

He froze for half a second, too quick for you to notice. His eyes flicked to you — searching your face for something, any sign that you knew, "Er— yeah," he said, forcing a small, sheepish grin. "Woke me up."

You hummed in response, like that made sense. Still focused on your notes, Snape swept back into the room — robes trailing behind him. "Go get your cauldrons" he drawled as he wiped the chalk board.

Jungwon moved instantly like he needed something to do and grabbed the cauldron from the shelves — setting it down with a thud.

You removed the lid and sighed in relief at the pearlescent liquid staring back at you. The potion had settled perfectly. Pearlescent and smooth, it shimmered with soft spirals of steam curling into the air like something almost alive.

Jungwon leaned over the cauldron and took in the scent, his head tilted for a second, "Vanilla musk…" he murmured, almost to himself. He paused and breathed in deeper, "Star jasmine… and…" his voice softened, quieter now, "fresh parchment." he finished, it was almost enchanting, he found his eyes fluttering shut, to completely seal himself into the confinement of the aroma.

When he opened them again, they found you. Then the potion, then you again.

"That smells so, so good." he exhaled, tipping his head back slightly. He watched you for a second as you stood in front of him towards the cauldron, without thinking he stepped closer. Resting his chin lightly against your shoulder. Your hair brushed against his face, soft familiar.. and there it was again.

The same aroma from the cauldron hit his nose, subtle and alluring but unmistakable. His breath catching as he leaned just slightly further in, his nose brushing the side of your neck. You felt it more than you saw it, the slight pause in his breathing. The way he didn’t pull back straight away.

"That tickles— what are you doing?" you laughed turning toward him but before your brain could overanalyse it into oblivion, he had jerked back.

"Wha— nothing!" he said too quickly, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped away. His mind was racing, of course it smelled like you. Of course it did, and the potion didn’t lie. No matter how much he had tried to.

You shook your head in amusement as you leaned over the cauldron and let the aroma seep into your nostrils. "What can you smell?" he asked, you knit your eyebrows together.

"It smells like, autumn" you started slowly, "Fresh strawberries— and rain.." you trailed off. "Smells good," you added, almost absentmindedly. "That good?" he spoke as he potted the substance. Needing something to ground himself. You nodded with a hum.

Snape once again walked over each station and arrived at yours, he took one look at the potion and nodded once — then walked back to the board. You looked at each other at the same time and broke into quiet, stifled laughter.

And then you noticed Penelope, walking over, you sighed internally. She had a stack of papers in hand, posture perfect as though she rehearsed this in a mirror beforehand. "We’re having a party tonight," she announced, placing a flyer neatly in front of Jungwon like she’s presenting a case. "Room of Requirement, for whoever wins the game."

She doesn’t look at you and you don’t look up. Mutual understanding, or maybe sly hatred. You focus on the vial in your hands instead, like you cared deeply about whatever you were pretending to do. "You’ll come, right?" she added, her tone shifting — directed only at him. Shock.

Jungwon barely glanced at the paper before his eyes flicked to you. Your brows are pulled together slightly — not dramatically, just enough that someone paying attention (him, apparently) would catch it.

"Y/n are you coming?" he asked instead. That caught you off guard, you looked up to see Penelope smiling at you. "Everyone's invited." she added with that strained smile, "I’ll think about it," you said, returning your attention to the vial in your hands.

"We'll be there." Jungwon said easily, still scanning the paper. Penelope seemed satisfied with that so she turned and walked off and you looked at him immediately. "Who says I'll be there?" you challenged. "C’mon," he grins, completely unbothered. "I’ll drag you if I have to."

"Yeah?" you shot back, arching a brow. "Try it." He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough "Don’t start whining when I do." Your stomach did a small, very annoying flip. You scoffed, nudging him lightly. "I don’t whine." He hums like he knows better.

You both walked back to the dorms as you talked, conversation was light, easy as it drifted between the upcoming game and whatever else came to mind. Jungwon split off to his room to change, and you did the same — stepping into your dorm and closing the door behind you.

Your hands were slower than usual as you picked out something to wear — something casual, but fitted just right. Something that sat on you well. Your favourite jewellery settled against your skin and a quick swipe of lip-gloss, a glance in the mirror and then you were out again.

The living room was already alive when you stepped in. Voices overlapping, laughter spilling out between your friends as drinks were passed around and poorly mixed concoctions were tested. Your eyes found him instantly. Jungwon sat sprawled against the sofa, one arm thrown lazily over the back, a backwards cap resting low on his head. Grey hoodie, black pinstripe pants — effortless.

Dangerously so. He looked—

No. We're not doing that. You averted your thoughts and slipped in beside Kenny at the counter instead. Across the room, Jungwon’s voice faltered mid-sentence, Jake kept talking but Jungwon had stopped. His eyes found you the second you walked in and stayed and they moved slowly, taking you in like he was trying to memorize something he hadn’t noticed before.

Like you were different or maybe like he was. You tipped the drink back with Kenny and immediately scrunched your nose, pulling a face. "Fuck, that’s disgusting," you laughed, nudging the glass away. Kenny snorted beside you.

"Yo, Jungwon?" Jake’s voice cut in, barely holding back laughter. "Hm?" Jungwon responded, not looking away from you. "You’re staring." you turned. Their expressions shifted instantly too quickly to catch fully, but enough to notice something. You walked over anyway, slipping into the space beside Jungwon like it was second nature.

"What’s wrong with you?" you grinned, your leg brushing his as you sat. His breath hitched barely and the gloss on your lips caught the light. You leaned in without thinking nudging the glass near him. "Nothing," he said, a little too quick. "Thanks." He reached for your drink, taking a sip — his eyes still flickering back to you. You didn’t stay long and you stood again, moving back toward the kitchen to fix the drinks for the others.

"I'm doing it later." Jungwon’s voice was low, almost absentminded. Jake turned to him slowly. "…And just so we’re clear," he said carefully, "by it you mean—"

"I’ll tell her." he said quieter this time like he was certain. Jake blinked, he breathed out a laugh. "Wow," he muttered. "didn’t think I’d see the day." He then slumped back against the sofa with a breath of disbelief.

Jungwon didn’t respond, he was still watching you because lately it had become impossible not to. Every day, it got harder to ignore. Harder to pretend, harder to act like you didn’t pull him in without even trying.

Across the room, you laughed softly at something Ni-ki said — but your attention shifted when you caught Kenny’s eye. "Can you help me with something?" she asked already moving, you nodded following behind.

"I’ll be right back," you called over your shoulder. The door clicked shut behind you and Kenny turned immediately, leaning back against it — arms crossing as she stared at you. For a moment she just looked at you, perplexed. "Kenny?.." you said cautiously, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. "What the fuck is going on with Jungwon?" she asked, her voice sharper than intended. Your brows lifted, "Jungwon?"

"That man is staring at you like he’s never seen you before," she continued, watching you closely. You exhaled slow, because you knew. You’d noticed it too, you had felt it and avoided it. Hearing it out loud was too much and yet somehow relieving. "It’s nothing," you start.

"Y/n, he’s crazy about you, he—"

"What if you’re wrong, Kenn?" you cut in, quieter now. Your expression tightened but Kenny didn’t hesitate. "And if I’m right?" she asked. "Can you live with that?" The question landed heavy, like they had an ache behind them. You paced, hands restless at your sides because you saw it. The way he looked at you. The way everyone else looked at you both and the way your chest flood with something warm when he got too close and worse, it feels right. That’s the problem.

To answer her question, no. You couldn’t live with not knowing, with pretending. "Okay." Your voice was sudden and firm. Kenny blinked. "Okay?" she echoed. You nodded, the slight buzz running through your body did nothing but assure your current thought process.

"Yeah," you said, more certain now. "I’m going to test it." Kenny narrows her eyes. "How?" You shrug lightly. A small smirk pulling at your lips. "Observation," you say. "Field testing." She didn’t interrupt or move. "And by the end of tonight," you continued, "If I feel like he does — if there’s anything there…"

"I’ll confess." She stood still for a moment as though any sudden movement would change your mind then she broke. A grin spread across her face, wide and disbelieving. "Wow," she laughed. "Did not see that coming."

The conversation with Kenny had been playing on your mind as you walked towards the kitchen. No matter what, tonight would change everything.

You had a plan for the night, not a good one and it was not a foolproof one but it was something. How to figure out if your best friend of four years has feelings for you—101.

Eyes. Jungwon loves eye-contact he fiends for it. He held it longer than most people, like he was always searching for something just beneath the surface.

Body language. He was subtle with everyone else but not with you. He leaned in, closed space without asking, existed just a little closer than necessary like proximity was instinct when it came to you.

Touch. Initiating more contact, that was the biggest one. He'd nudge your shoulder, brush against your arm, pull you forward when you lagged too far behind.

Jungwon was always the one to initiate it, so tonight you’d flip it. You'd hold his gaze longer than usual. You don’t look away first. Close the distance before he can, be the one to reach for him.

It made your stomach twist just thinking about it, because this isn’t just observation anymore. It’s risk and if he pulls away, or if he hesitates. You’ll have your answer.

Your friends made it to the game a couple minutes early to get the best seats for the upcoming game, Slytherin V Gryffindor. You hang back just long enough to knock back a shot, purely medicinal.

Once you made it to the game there were a few empty seats besides your friends. He sent you a small wave, like he hasn’t been subconsciously tracking your existence since you walked in. You settled besides him — making a point to sit with your leg flush against his. He paused briefly and relaxed, this wasn't unusual. Not yet.

You then turned to him looking between his brown feline eyes. "Hi Won," you said. He looked between your own, his eyes widened for a flicker of a moment. "Hey Y/n," he returned with a mischievous smile, confusion twisting into his brows.

"What are you up to?" he said leaning in slightly. You leaned in even closer and tilted your head, just a little. Play dumb, "What do you mean?" you replied, eyes still trained on his.

"I- What?" he stammered. You only feigned ignorance, perplexing him further. Was it always this obvious?

Jungwon had been convincing himself he'd been thrown into an alternate dimension, the one he'd dreamt of once where you would flirt, shameless.

It was the kind of reality he’d never let himself linger on for long, too aware of how easily it could blur into something dangerous. Something that would make it impossible to go back to what you were.

So instead of questioning it, he leaned into it. A small grin graced his lips, your eyes dilated as they looked into his and you pulled back to sit back in your chair. He sat back with the sleeves of his hoodie rolled back — his forearms on show. He watched as you shook your head in amusement and disbelief, trying your best to focus on the game that was about to begin.

Shortly after, the balls were released into the air along with a whistle to signal the start of the game. As the players all flew around the pitch you couldn't help but notice Jungwon's gaze when he was convinced you weren't looking.

You turned to face him watching as his eyes flit over your face in response, "What are you looking at?" you asked holding his eyes with yours again. "You" he said simply, you rolled your eyes at his words, but despite that you felt it. That warmth spreading in your chest, traitorous and loud.

You look back at the blurs of red and green in the distance. Relishing in the warmth, instead of filing it away. You all talked about the game as the breeze picked up and your shoulders caved in, as if to shield yourself from the cold.

You then felt an arm snake around your shoulders, Jungwon pulled you into him and rubbed up and down your arm, you pressed further into his warmth. "Comfy?" he smiled looking down at you. You nodded looking up at him, "Me too." he said, with a sheepish grin — making a point to rub harder against your arm for a moment.

Your friends snickered at the two of you, but neither of you noticed — too caught up in the quiet little world you always seemed to fall into together. Conversation flowed easily, effortlessly, the kind you’d forget the details of later but remember the feeling of.

His chest vibrated under you as he spoke, sneaking glances at you. Every so often, his voice would dip, like he was saying something just for you — even when it wasn’t anything important at all.

It's not like you hadn't been in this position before, you had been enough times that this wasn't new. Only it was. Your heart beat faster now, harder against your chest. You were certain he could hear it.

You also knew, somewhere along the way, that this was another shift — another quiet turning point in something that had always felt steady. A new line drawn without either of you acknowledging it, one that would change the shape of everything after.

The game blurred by, you and Jungwon cheered and whined at each-others teams as each of them scored points. He would never admit it but he was secretly rooting for Slytherin to win. For… morale. Just so Ni-ki could come back flashing that boyish grin you all inevitably cooed over, that was the reason.

Not the way you leaned forward with every play, eyes lit with excitement or the way your hand tightened in his sleeve whenever the score shifted. Not the way your voice carried just a little louder when it was your house pulling ahead. Definitely not that.

The commentator was drowned out by Jake's own commentary, full body reactions, dramatic gasps, like he was personally responsible for the outcome. It’s funny, it is, but you’re only half there because Jungwon’s hand is still on you. "Oi, focus!" Jake’s voice cut through as he pointed wildly at the pitch, "Ni-ki’s about to lose his mind—" You laughed softly, but your attention didn’t fully leave Jungwon.

Not when his hand slid just a little further down your arm — not unfamiliar, just more intentional than before as though he was testing something too. The last few minutes of the game had you all perched at the edge of your seats — tension coiling tighter with every second, every pass, every near miss.

It peaked when Ni-ki suddenly dipped — sharp and brutal, a near 90-degree dive as his eyes locked onto a fleeting glint of gold. "OH—" Jake practically folding over the railing, "—HE’S GONE—WHERE IS HE—" Just as you all stood up to look over the banister. He shot back up, a grin splitting across his face, fist clenched tight around the Golden Snitch.

The stadium erupted as the Slytherin team crowded around the blonde seeker, Beomgyu pulled him onto his shoulders and they all chanted the house name. But somewhere in the chaos, Jungwon grabbed your hand, you hadn't even register when it happened.

One moment you were cheering, the next — his fingers were laced with yours, his other hand thrown into the air with the crowd. The cheers mellowed like it had been pushed underwater. Your eyes trained on the space connecting you both, like they might explain themselves. He looked over at you, noticing your silence following your gaze to your hand in his. Your eyes snapped up to his, he didn't let go, he didn't pull away. He only looked over your expression carefully.

"Hey." he spoke softly, quietly — just for you. "Hi." you returned, feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, the one that the buzz of alcohol had barely dampened.

"Is this okay?" he asked squeezing your hand for a moment, your heart stuttered. "This is okay." you nodded. A smile stretched onto his face as his thumb circled your skin. Enough to quiet the doubt that had been clawing at you all day.

As the players all made their way back inside and the cheers had subsided you all hurried inside, to the warmth. "The party then?" Heeseung said making you groan. "You don't whine remember?" Jungwon said catching your wrist as you pulled away.

"Wasn't whining." you muttered, he rolled his eyes. "You're not actually gonna drag me?" you scoffed, your voice trailed off with a hint of doubt as you watched an evil grin mould onto his lips.

"You can make this easy and just come with me— us." he tilted his head with a hint of a pout on his lips. You stared at him for a second.. debated your life choices.

"Whatever." you rolled your eyes letting him drag you along to the Room Of Requirement because apparently your free will stopped working around him. The doors of the Room of Requirement opened to something entirely different this time vast and open, the ceilings stretching high above with dark stone beams crossing overhead. Fairy lights draped between them, casting a warm, golden glow that softened everything it touched.

Sofas were scattered across the room in uneven clusters, already claimed by groups of students, laughter spilling between them. In each corner, makeshift bars lined the corners, bottles everywhere, drinks being poured like consequences weren’t real.

"See?" he murmured, leaning slightly toward you, his voice low enough that it barely carried past your ear. "Not so bad." But he wasn’t looking at the room. He was looking at you.

The soft buzz that had been carrying you through the evening was starting to dull at the edges, thinning out into something far less convincing. You needed more than this half-hearted warmth for what you had planned. You grabbed a couple of bottles and some glasses from the bar, weaving your way back to the corner your friends had claimed earlier.

"I was about to come look for you," Kenny said the second she spotted you, her voice half-laughing, half-knowing. "Thought you’d already wandered off."

When you drank, you wandered. That was just a fact. Slipped away from conversations, from rooms, from people. Chasing distraction wherever it led, no real destination in mind. Your laugh came out as a exhale through your nose as you set everything down. "Not yet," you murmured, already reaching for a glass.

Everyone was sprawled out on a corner sofa, Jungwon sat at the edge with a twinge of amusement playing on his lips — he watched as you topped some unknown liquid off with some coke. You took a safety sip. Your sip turned into another as you deemed it drinkable. The room pulsed with low, bass-heavy music, something nostalgic bleeding through the speakers as your friends broke into loud, overlapping chatter about the game.

You looked up from your glass and caught his eye, and just like that — he tilted his head, a quiet invitation. Come here. You hate that it works. You moved without thinking, slipping into the space beside him at the edge of the couch. It was closer than usual.

His hand snaked around your back settling on your hip. "Got enough space?" he murmured, leaning in close enough that his voice brushed against your skin instead of reaching your ears. You blinked once. twice, suddenly your brain wasn’t keeping up with your body. "Yes— yeah I do" you said softer than you'd anticipated. Your voice had given you away. His eyes held yours for a second too long, lips curling up. "Good."

His gaze dipped, catching on the dark liquid in your glass. You followed it, then nudged it slightly toward him, tilting your head just a fraction. He took it, fingers brushing with yours, eyebrows furrowing for a moment as he sniffed experimentally. His eyes were on yours the whole time, he took a sip from where your lips touched the glass — expression morphing into subtle delight at the taste.

"Strong," he muttered, lips quirking slightly. You nodded like you hadn’t just noticed that and let your gaze drift across the room, swaying slightly to the music as the alcohol settled warm beneath your skin.

Jungwon didn't look away once, not when you turned, not when you laughed, not when you lost yourself in the rhythm. His eyes stayed on you like you were the only thing in the room worth watching.

It didn’t take long for the winning team to burst through the doors, loud and electric with energy. Ni-ki and Beomgyu led the way, the golden trophy gleaming under the soft glow of the fairy lights as cheers erupted around them. You smiled easily, stepping forward with the others.

"Your drop was insane, Riki," you added, nudging him lightly. He broke into that familiar boxy grin, pulling you into a quick side hug before being dragged into more congratulations. You poured another drink not long after, feeling the buzz deepen as the night went on. Enough to make the world feel lighter, hopefully enough to make you braver.

You got up at some point as someone asked the room to create a dance floor in the centre of it. The room shifted, glowing softly as it cleared, colours flickering across the floor like something alive. People flooded in almost instantly, laughter rising with the music. You were about to stay exactly where you were because, realistically, dancing in a crowd wasn’t usually your thing — but then you felt Jungwon stand beside you.

"You wanna dance don't you?" he grinned reading you. You turned to him, a small laugh slipping out. "I think I’m at that point." He reached for your hand and you let him. He guided you to the floor with a smile that was tugged between his teeth, one you couldn't see as you walked hand in hand. You also didn't notice the figure that stood somewhere along the side of the room with a glare directed at you.

Jungwon turned as he reached the dance floor and pulled you closer, you took his other hand in yours. Whatever this feeling was, you concluded you liked it and then the music switched and you gasped.

[ SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK > JOJI ]

"Fuck, I love this song." you smiled. Jungwon pulled you closer, hands now safely on your waist. "I know." he said, softer now. "Did you—" you started, but he cut you off with a playful roll of his eyes, spinning you once before pulling you right back in. A laugh slipped out of you anyway, bright and unfiltered, dying the second your body met his again. Your arms found their place around his neck without a second thought.

"Hi." he whispered. So close, close enough that you could feel his breath, see the way his eyes flickered not steady but blown out and uncertain in a way you’d never seen before. "Hi," you echoed, your fingers drifted to the hair at the nape of his neck as the lights shifted over his face in soft, changing colours.

"You've been different today" he started carefully. You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "Good or bad?" you asked. "So good" he said with no hesitation, "Yeah?" you murmured, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

"Yeah," he nodded, hands pressing lightly into your waist — like he needed to be sure you were still there. Jungwon’s thoughts tangled over themselves, something settling in his chest but not from the alcohol. It had him finally thinking, what if she feels what I feel?

"C'mon let's grab a drink." you said stepping back and taking his hand. He pouted just for a second, at the loss of your weight against him but it vanished the moment your fingers slipped into his. His grip tightened instinctively, like it settled something in him. You caught Kenny’s smile as you walked back, that knowing one she usually threw at you. This time, you didn’t brush it off. You smiled back.

You were halfway through your drink when you felt it, that familiar prickle of being watched. The universal experience of someone staring at you too hard, with one look around the group your eyes met Beomgyu's.

Too late to pretend you didn't notice. He tilted his head slightly, subtle, motioning toward the door. You hesitated for half a second, stomach dropping and then you nodded.

You turned to Jungwon, whose eyes were already on you, like he’d been waiting.

"I'll be right back." you said to him, squeezing his hand. A silent promise more than anything, he nodded once — squeezing back, thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles before letting go.

You got up and headed to the door, walking through and leaning against the wall as you and Beomgyu settled outside — the sound of music being drowned into silence as the door swung shut. You leaned against the wall as Beomgyu joined you, hands shoved into his pockets, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

"Hey," you said, tilting your head. "What’s up?" He exhaled through a small laugh. "I just—" he scratched the back of his neck, glancing at you, "I wanted to ask about you and Jungwon. Again." You huffed out a quiet breath, already knowing where this was going. "I noticed things felt… different," he added.

You looked down at your hands for a moment, fingers fidgeting slightly. "Yeah.. there has been a development" You glanced back up at him. "On my side, at least" Beomgyu didn’t even hesitate. "It’s reciprocated," he said with a small laugh, nodding like it was obvious. "Like— painfully obvious." You breathed in sharp at that.

Good to know you’ve been the only one missing that for four years. "But I just wanted to make sure," he added quickly. "I wasn’t lying before," you said, frowning slightly. "I just— didn’t realise," You started.

"No, no," he cut in, shaking his head with a small smile. "You’re good. We’re good." Relief flashed across your face "Okay, I'm glad."

"You should say something to him though." he added. "I will," you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

"Soo," he dragged out, nudging your shoulder lightly, "what are you waiting for?"

That question followed you all the way back inside. Through the noise, past the lights and the crowd that blurred around you as your eyes searched and found him.

Jungwon. Stood with Penelope, not too close. Nothing anyone else would question but close enough that it feels intentional. Close enough that you noticed. "You came," she said, soft, almost relieved like his presence meant something specific. Like he came for her. Your stomach turned and something bitter ran up your throat.

Your chest ached in this dull, persistent way like something was pressing there, not hard enough to break anything, just enough to be constantly noticeable. Which was worse, honestly. You could deal with sharp. You told yourself it was nothing. Jungwon’s expression was neutral — polite, attentive in that way he is with people he doesn’t want to be rude to. He’s listening, nodding slightly, but there’s no real weight behind it.

She says something else, quieter this time, leaning in just slightly like she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. He glances around for a second — quick, then back at her, responding with something short.

He’s not pulling away or shutting it down. He wasn’t doing anything that would let you go oh, I’m being dramatic. That’s what got you, not what he did, but what he didn’t do.

Your jaw tightened as you turned away, slipping back into your group like nothing had happened. As though you hadn’t just stood there analysing every second of that interaction like it meant something. You grabbed a drink, didn’t even register what it was — just needed something to do with your hands.

Don’t look, not at her handing him a drink. Not at him hesitating, then taking it anyway. You didn’t see him notice you were back or the way he excused himself with something vague, already moving before she could respond. "Hey," he said, quieter now, like the room had shrunk down to just the two of you. "Hi," There was a beat. A shift.

"I didn't see you come in," he started, sitting besides you. Wonder why. The thought came automatically, dry and sharp, but you didn’t let it show. Your eyes flicker to her, just for a moment. He followed your line of sight, not obviously. "Just got here a couple minutes ago." you said.

"Yeah, I—" he huffed a small breath, like he’d rather skip over whatever explanation he could give. "She just stopped me." You didn’t respond, didn’t ask. "She was asking about something for class," he added anyway, quieter this time.

Your fingers tightened slightly around your glass. "Right," you said, like it mattered. He paused watching you, "I wasn’t… staying." He said, softer. That made you glance at him properly. He looked like he wanted you to understand something he wasn’t fully saying. Your chest tumbled in that same dull, frustrating way and you looked away first.

"Okay," you said, a little too quick. He didn’t call it out, he just nodded once, like that was enough — for now. "I was looking for you, actually," he added after a second, almost like it was an afterthought.

"Yeah?" you said, trying to keep your tone even. "Yeah," he repeated, quieter. That was all it took, the quiet certainty in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing he’d meant to find — for that nagging ache in your chest to loosen, easing just enough to finally let you breathe.

"I was—" he started, then stopped, huffing a small breath. "Do you wanna—"

"The balcony?" you said at the same time. You both paused and then laughed, caving into each other a little. "Yeah," he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "The balcony."

He walked quieter than usual with that drink he had already taken a few sips from. Tonight, you were going to say it. Penelope doesn't matter, that didn't mean anything. You closed your eyes briefly, inhaling. Nerves crept in as you reached the balcony behind the tinted glass doors. He reached for your hand as you stood before the stone railing of the balcony. You had never felt so vulnerable, never entrusted something as fragile as your feelings to another person.

The cool air kissed your skin, a relief against the heat crawling up your neck and then you turned to him. Your fingers curled into his, his grip tightened almost instantly. "Y/n," Jungwon breathed, there was a flush across his cheeks, spilling down his neck. His hand held yours too tightly, almost desperate. "Yes?" you said, unaware you were holding your breath

"I don’t know how to say this…" he murmured, more to himself than to you, a quiet, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. "I think you know what I’m going to say," he added, letting out a small, breathy laugh. He took a sip of his drink and placed it down the stone railing. "I think I do too," you replied carefully, a smile breaking through despite yourself.

He mirrored your smile pulling you a little closer. For a second, everything aligned, like maybe all the overthinking, avoidance and quiet longing hadn’t been one-sided delusion. Then, something shifted. His eyes flickered. Not to you, but past you. Through the glass doors as though something had caught his attention. Your brows knit, your gaze followed his instinctively — but you didn’t understand what he was looking for.

You just knew you’d lost him for a second, his attention had slipped through your fingers. Your brows pulled together, your brain already scrambling to justify it. When he looked back at you, his expression had changed. Brighter, a full smile broke out, stretching across his face. Like whatever he’d been working up to wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was contagious, you couldn't help but smile at his smile, only yours came with a tilt to your brow. "Right— sorry, where was I?" he said, voice suddenly lighter, confidence replacing the earlier nerves like they’d never been there. "I think…" he started, taking a quick sip of his drink, like he needed it, like he couldn’t quite stay still, "I think I really like someone."

Your chest tightened but not in a bad way. Not yet, because obviously he meant you. You nodded, amused "Right, who is she?" you spoke, still smiling — even as something inside you began to sink.

"Ah, you know our potions class?" he said, almost fond. "Penelope." He looked over at the glass again, at her. You faltered for a moment, then you held your smile for a second longer, letting it settle into something softer, something that took effort to be there. Hope is so rude. It shows up uninvited and then ruins your life.

You didn’t shatter or explode or break in any loud, dramatic way. You just felt, disoriented — like missing a step in the dark. That sudden, disorienting lurch where your body forgets where it’s supposed to land.

"Oh." you exhaled letting your hand drop. Your heart ached in a way that felt… unauthorised, almost. As though it had no right reacting this strongly to something you were never promised in the first place.

He didn’t seem to notice. "Yeah," he continued, almost giddy now. "I noticed her a while ago… sometimes it feels like she just — lives in my head." Eyes soft and sparkly. How they would be for someone in love. That look, the one you thought meant something. The one you thought was yours.

You thought you were being smart. You had the upper hand because you weren’t saying anything but now you don’t even get to be angry. There’s no betrayal, he didn't lie or trick you. You had built something out of moments of eye contact and hope, which is actually humiliating when you put it like that.

And you smile, of course you do. You ask questions and play the part you’ve always played. The best friend, the one who listens because that’s what you are. That’s what you’ve always been.

Push it down before it has the chance to become visible, before it turns into something he might notice — because the last thing you want is for him to look at you and realize. That you’re not as unaffected as you’ve spent years pretending to be and somewhere between him talking about her eyes, her laugh, the way she made him feel — your mind drifted. Your gaze lifting past him, to the clouded night sky, stretched out above the castle.

"Y/n?" Jungwon laughed softly, the sound light and open. "Yes?" you breathed. Something in your chest had gone strangely still. "I think I love her" he said almost dazed. You felt sick, It wasn't even just jealousy. It was the realization, that whatever you were holding onto — hope maybe or just the possibility of more, it didn't exist how you wanted it to. The realization that you were never part of the equation.

"You should tell her." you said, in a voice you barely recognised as your own, stepping back towards the door. He didn't register anything you said, he just stared through that same glass and gawked. For a moment you stood still and forced your eyes to his profile, his parted curved lips, his glittering eyes.

Your heart ached at how easily he held that look for her. It was steady, unguarded. There was no hesitation, no flicker of self-consciousness, no quick glance around to see who might notice. It was simple. Just him and her. It was real, and it wasn’t you.

You turned on your heel and walked, because you were not about to let him see what that did to you. Not now, not ever. Past the dancing students and past your friends who weren't aware of anything that had happened.

Your stomach flipped in slow, nauseating waves and suddenly you were too aware of everything. Your voice. Your hands. How long you’d been avoiding eye contact with the world. You kept your expression neutral on autopilot, years of practice kicking in. Survival instinct, if you don’t react, it didn’t happen.

You wondered if you saw him clearly at all, or if you were just filling in the blanks with what you wanted to see. You found yourself in a barely lit abandoned classroom and sat down on the steps near the window. The window was cracked open, letting in cold air that didn’t help but felt deserved somehow. It probably hadn't been long, probably minutes, but it felt you had been there for hours.

At some point your hands had started shaking, small at first, then enough that you had to press them flat against your thighs to make it stop. Your jaw locked, teeth pressed together like you could grind the feeling out of your system if you tried hard enough.

You were angry, you didn’t do anger. You did quiet and distance You did the slow, controlled kind of detachment where things stopped mattering because you decided they didn’t but you were angry, because you had allowed this. You let yourself believe it meant more, more than friendship but this this was different. This was sharp, embarrassing because none of this was technically his fault.

You let the lines blur. You let yourself sit a little closer, stay a little longer, read into things you knew you shouldn’t. You let your friends talk, let Kenny look at you like she’d already written the ending, let Jake’s stupid comments sink in like they meant something, like it wasn't just in your head.

You sat with your shoulders slightly caved in, your leg bounced repeatedly. In the time you were sat dissociated you were stuck. Cutting your thoughts off as they crowded in, not letting them finish their sentence. Redirecting them to something, anything else but it kept coming back.

He didn’t hesitate. You tried focusing on anything else, the rough breaths you could barely manage. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly when you felt pressure build behind your eyes. No, I'm not doing that. You ignored it, even when your vision blurred slightly — even when a tear slipped free anyway, trailing down before you could stop it.

You didn’t wipe it right away, you just let it happen like it didn’t belong to you. Eventually, you stood because sitting there felt worse and staying meant thinking and thinking meant feeling.

Jungwon felt as though someone had dimmed the lights in his head, except nothing felt wrong, in fact it all felt overwhelmingly right. At some point his thoughts had narrowed quietly, to her. Penelope. She became his centre without him allowing it. His body followed without his mind understanding or questioning the reality of why. Which is why he didn't notice your faux smile the way he would have, the way it held a second too long.

He would have once, you knew that. He would’ve tilted his head, narrowed his gaze just slightly, like he was trying to read something between the lines. He would’ve asked, "What’s wrong?" even when you insisted nothing was.

He sauntered into the room with the kind of confidence only deeply intoxicated people and stupidly pretty boys possessed. Music pulsed through the room walls, low enough to feel in your chest more than hear properly. Everything looked slightly blurred around the edges, Jungwon placed his half-empty cup down on the nearest table carelessly, some shimmering pearlescent liquid sloshing over the rim.

He then walked over to her with a set of nerves he had no memory of harbouring. She stood glancing over at him with a knowing smirk. The type of girl who looked like she collected secrets for entertainment. "There you are," she hummed and Jungwon smiled instantly, helplessly.

"Hey," Jungwon said, eyes wide in that soft, open way — the same ones she had wished, not long ago, had been on her instead. The one you’d spent weeks trying not to fall apart over.

"Hey handsome," Penelope replied smoothly, like she’d tested it beforehand. She set her drink down and passing him a refilled cup of the same pearlescent liquid, he took it without even looking.

It was around then that Jake and Heeseung had circled back after getting some air, expressions already exhausted from dealing with drunk idiots all night. Jake was mid-sentence when he noticed Jungwon, Heeseung followed his line of sight and both of them went quiet for a second. "Oh, for fuck’s sake," Jake muttered under his breath.

"Heyy Jungwon.." Heeseung started carefully, voice cautious in the way people spoke to someone standing too close to the edge of a cliff. His gaze flicked to the girl beside him — unfamiliar, unimpressed by the interruption.

"Hi guys." he grinned looking between them. The grin alone was enough to concern everybody involved. "This is Penelope!" he added, gesturing toward her as he shifted slightly closer, like it was obvious.

"Oh… hi?" Jake said slowly, exchanging another look with Heeseung.

"Uh—where’s Y/n?" For a fraction of a second, Jungwon went still — he inhaled, sharp as though he was discovering your existence for the first time and then it slipped away again. Gone so quickly Heeseung almost thought he imagined it.

"Oh, Y/n?" he said vaguely, already turning his attention back. The way he said your name made Jake’s eyebrows cock immediately, like he was recalling someone from a class roster.

"I don’t know, she left earlier." he mumbled unbothered before turning right back toward Penelope again, already distracted by whatever she whispered next. She giggled beside him and he looked at her like the sound made perfect sense. Jake physically recoiled, "What the fuck." Heeseung stepped in immediately, pulling Jungwon slightly aside. "Hey- what are you-"

"Did something happen?" Heeseung asked carefully, watching him with increasing concern. "Like before this. With Y/n or something?" Jungwon blinked at him, like the question was irrelevant. "Realised I'm in love with her" Jungwon said nodding, his eyes didn’t even leave Penelope. Heeseung shot him an appalled look, open mouthed and on the edge of annoyance.

"What?" he said flatly, disbelief breaking through. "In love with who?" Jake whisper-shouted, leaning in sharply. Jungwon barely reacted, his eyes held a softened mushy glint as he waved dozily at Penelope, who was giving his friends pointed looks. Jake immediately pushed Jungwon's head back down.

"Who the fuck is that?" he snapped, gesturing toward her. "Penelope," Jungwon repeated patiently like Jake was struggling academically (he was not). Jake snatched the cup out of his hand immediately.

"Alright. Enough, come with us." Heeseung said grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the exit, ignoring his whines and pleas. Penelope stepped forward quickly. "He wanted to stay—"

"Didn’t ask,” Jake snapped instantly." Jungwon continued whining the entire way out while Jake muttered increasingly aggressive threats under his breath, clutching the cup like evidence in a murder trial. Somewhere beneath all the haze clouding his mind, buried deep enough to almost disappear entirely, your name still sat quietly in Jungwon’s chest.

Jake also did the damage control, he spotted Kenny near the drinks table laughing at something Jay said, entirely unaware her night was about to get violently worse. "Kenny." Something in his tone made her smile drop immediately.

"We found Jungwon with some girl," Jake whispered quickly, glancing over his shoulder like he expected the walls themselves to start listening. "Talking about being in love and shit and Y/n is nowhere to be found." Her face shifted rapidly through about seven different emotions in under three seconds.

They both ran out the room, in opposite directions. Heeseung and Jake practically hauled Jungwon down the dungeon corridors toward the nearest empty potions classroom while he complained the entire way.

"Guys! Let me go-"

"Shut up." they snapped. The classroom door slammed shut behind them loudly enough to rattle the shelves, bottles clinking around the room. Jungwon stumbled slightly as they shoved him into a chair near one of the worktables.

Jake lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled, immediately pushing the glass away once the smell hit his nose. "It's Amortentia." he concluded, letting out a long suffering sigh before setting it back down. "Jungwon?" Heeseung crouched in front of him. "Can I see Penelope now?" Jungwon groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the chair.

"If you tell us what happened with Y/n," he said steadily, holding his gaze, "then yes." he lied, Jake nodded supportively anyway.

He made a concentrated thinking face at the ceiling "I took her to the balcony, I think- I wanted to tell her.. about Penelope and I did and then I looked back and she was gone." he rambled.

Jake and Heeseung looked at each other with pained expressions. "Fuck." Jake breathed, because suddenly he could picture it too clearly — you standing alone on that balcony listening to Jungwon talk about loving another girl after everything, after the lingering touches, all those painfully soft moments neither of you knew what to do with, and worst of all. Jungwon probably sounded sincere when he said it.

You probably stood there hearing every word and believed him completely.

"Can I see-" "—No!" they shouted immediately.

You lent against the cold stone of one of the many balcony's around Hogwarts, the air was sharp and prickly — you could feel the goosebumps, it soothed you. "Y/n." Kenny’s voice cut through the silence gently, though there was an edge of exasperation underneath it. You don’t turn immediately, didn't trust your face yet, your eyes bored into the stillness of the night — across the Great Lake.

"Y/n." she repeated softer this time as she approached. A hand settled carefully against your shoulder, you turned around meeting her worried eyed with your tired ones. "It's just me," she spoke quieter, taking in the exhaustion behind your eyes. "Oh, sorry." you said, "No," Kenny sighed almost instantly, offering you a small smile. "Don’t apologise."

You didn't answer, the wind pushed through your hair softly as your eyes drifted back toward the lake. Kenny leaned against the railing beside you after a moment, careful not to crowd you too much.

"Where did you go?" she asked eventually. "A walk." you replied simply. Kenny hummed softly, "You always come back weirdly philosophical after walks." Her eyes moved over your face carefully, like she was trying to piece together what kind of damage had already been done.

"He told you about her, didn't he." you said as though you were talking about something casual. She paused, "Yeah. Well.. Jake did," Kenny replied gently, turning to you. You nod softly, attempting to look unbothered. "Don't do that," she murmured immediately, tilting her head. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," you say, too quickly. "He just likes someone." Kenny blinks "Wait," she frowned. "Like actually?" You shrugged lightly like the conversation bored you. "Yeah." like it’s nothing. "He told me earlier."

"And you’re just… fine with that?" You lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a laugh. "Why wouldn’t I be?" Kenny turned toward you fully now, leaning forward slightly against the railing. "Because, you like him." The thing everyone apparently knew except the one person you wanted to know it. You shake your head, eyes dropping back down.

"It doesn’t matter."

"It does matter."

"He doesn’t feel the same," you say, firmly this time. "So it doesn’t matter." There’s something in the way you say it, like you're trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. She watches, carefully "Who is it?" You hesitate, just barely "Penelope."

"Who?" She raises a brow "She's in our potions." You say calm straight to the point. "And you’re okay?"

"Yeah." You shrug small "I told him he should tell her." The words tasted awful coming back out but that’s what a friend says, that’s what you are. Kenny's expression shifts "You told him that?"

"Of course I did," you say, like it’s obvious "That’s what you’re supposed to say."

"Not if it hurts you." You finally looks up at that, and there’s a flicker of something raw before it dulls. "I’m not hurt," you say. It’s quiet and you almost believe it. Kenny doesn’t call you out on it right away, she just studies you for a moment, then asks softly.

"What did you expect him to say?"And that was the question you weren't ready for, because your brain instantly reminds you how sure you were.

Your throat tightens, and for a second you can’t answer. Can’t even form the words without everything else slipping out with them. "Nothing," you says eventually. "I didn’t expect anything." A lie.

"Right." Kenny frowns almost sadly. A silence forms between you. Uncomfortable and loud, you clear your throat. "It's not a big deal," you add, stepping back, already closing the conversation before it can open into something dangerous. "So let’s not… do this again." You both know it’s not okay but it’s enough, for now. So instead she nods, "Let's go inside, get you warm."

The night blurred by the time you made it back to your room. You moved through it on autopilot, same routine, same steps, as if nothing had shifted or as if something hadn’t.

It took significantly more effort than either Jake or Heeseung would ever admit out loud to get Jungwon back to his dorm. Mostly because he would not stop talking.

And by the time they finally shoved him through the dormitory door, all three of them had looked seconds away from collapse. Jungwon stumbled toward his bed dramatically while Jake slammed the door shut behind them.

"I hate this school," Jake muttered immediately, "You say that every week," Heeseung replied tiredly, preparing something in the bathroom, "Because every week this castle invents a new problem." Jungwon dropped face first onto the mattress with a groan. "Penelope would understand me." he said muffled, Jake actually lunged towards him, "Don’t make me hit you."

Heeseung returned a moment later from the bathroom holding a glass filled with something dark purple and deeply suspicious looking.

"Drink," He said, pressing a glass of something dark and purple into his hand, Jungwon looked up slowly. "What is that." he frowned.

"Drink the fucking potion before I throw you into the Black Lake myself." Jake huffed, Heeseung nodded once in agreement. "Honestly at this point I’d help him." Their expressions — tired, worn down, entirely over it, left little room for argument. He sighed and drank it.

"Goodnight," Jake said flatly, the effect was instant, his body went slack as he dropped back against the pillows, breath evening out into a heavy, unnatural sleep.

Both of them exhaled, Jake dragged a hand down his face while Heeseung pushed Jungwon’s legs properly onto the bed. "That should keep him out until morning," Heeseung muttered. "It’ll wear off by then." Jake only nodded, quieter than usual.

Something about the entire situation sat heavily in the room now that the chaos had died down. The silence after disaster always felt worse somehow.

Morning came too loud, too bright. Jungwon groaned, dragging a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye as a sharp, splitting ache pulsed at the back of his skull. His mouth tasted awful, he blinked once, twice. Then he froze.

He sat up abruptly, breath catching as the night came rushing back in fragments — words, expressions, the certainty he’d felt. It had felt real, so real.

The party, Penelope’s face.. the overwhelming certainty sitting inside his chest every time he looked at her, intense enough to make him dizzy even now in retrospect. He remembered saying he loved her. Remembered meaning it in the moment with horrifying sincerity. His stomach turned. Did I mean it? No. No, that’s not right. Why did I say that?

And then, you. The thought hit harder than the headache and a mix of emotions followed in — anger, sharp and immediate at the realization that someone had drugged him.

Embarrassment, heavier, settling in his chest as he replayed what he’d said. How he’d said it, but beneath all of that, one stray thought, quiet and devastating in its simplicity.

She told me to tell her.. She didn’t care. Jungwon stared blankly at the floor now, jaw tightening slowly as another ache spread through his chest entirely separate from the headache splitting his skull open.

She doesn’t feel the same.

V 𓄧 lore accurate jungwon and riki ^. once again im sorry for making this 2 parts pls i wasn't going to i had no choice don't hurt meimsorry. she's alr at least 70% done. DAS RED RED DAS RED U SHOULD COME MESS WITH THE TEAMM EEE.

PERM TAGS ـــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ @xionvlog @clearlyhoonie @endoll @voucearse @chyukiz @angelshedevil @firstclassjaylee @shouldergangsterrj @multistanerrrrr @kristynaaah @mailovesreading @justpassingdontworry @wonkiipiilled @imsojuliaaaaaa @sugadaddymyg @cralessia @hauntsoul

TAGS ـــــــــــــــــ٨ @heedimples @chcconne @aesprn @fabulousarepo4 @chyukiz s @nctubatu @lovelycassy @cumtrov3rsy @l33binx @jakeenhabias @ywoniewon @peonywon @asaapjwons @miauumin @chloexyi @idonthatefruits @foreveronez @enhalxvr @heruuux @gthae @starfallia @sipnonsense @jungwonsdimpl3 @heewonnie @shhth @babygguk98 @jwonie10 @geonatzz @hyyhwriter @areikii @sehynblur @jungwonisme @thewonnie23

𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𓇬 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!!

[tiramisunghoon]

PARK JONGSEONG FIC RECS

s | smut f | fluff a | angst

hometown pt2 - s,f,a (combined wc- 64.6k)

╰┈➤ ex!jay x f!reader [small town au]

practice makes perfect - s,f,a (wc- 34.6k)

╰┈➤ senior!jay x f!reader ft. jake [love triangle, college au]

the hates everyone except you trope - s,f,a (wc- 28k)

╰┈➤ badboy!jay x goodgirl!reader

to the boy: who was my rival - s,f,a (wc- 27.6k)

╰┈➤ rival!jay x f!reader

fast forward - f,a (wc- 26.6k)

╰┈➤ enemy!jay x f!reader [highschool au]

eyes don't lie - s,f,a (wc- 26.5k)

╰┈➤ brother's bestfriend!jay x f!reader

stuck with me - s (wc- 26.2k)

╰┈➤ enemy!jay x f!reader [zombie apocalypse au]

me and my husband - f,a (wc- 19.5k)

╰┈➤ cold fiance!jay x f!reader

birthday sex - s,f (wc- 11.5k)

╰┈➤ boyfriend!jay x f!reader

the path to a nerd's heart s,f (wc- 8.1k)

╰┈➤ nerd!jay x f!reader

between sheets - s,f (wc- 9.7k)

╰┈➤ bestfriend!jay x f!reader

unexpected problems - f (wc- 5.9k)

╰┈➤ enemy!jay x f!reader

jealou-sea (of you) - s (wc- 5.9k)

╰┈➤ fiance!jay x f!reader

fucked by an... idol? - s (wc- 3.8k)

╰┈➤ idol!jay x f!reader

teacher's pet - s (wc- 2.8k)

╰┈➤ professor!jay x f!reader

submit to me - s (wc- 2.7k)

╰┈➤ ceo!jay x pole dancer!reader

sweet girl - s (wc- 2.4k)

╰┈➤ husband,sub!jay x f!reader

sports car - s (wc- 2.2k)

╰┈➤ f1 driver!jay x f!reader

too sweet - f,a suggestive (wc- 2k)

╰┈➤badboy!jay x nerd!reader

baby, you're spilling - s (wc- 2k)

╰┈➤ bestfriendf!jay x f!reader

all eyes on you - s (wc- 2k)

╰┈➤ husband!jay x bombshell!reader

stateside - s,f (wc- 1.4k)

╰┈➤ idol!jay x f!reader

proof in 4k - s (wc- 1.4k)

you're my home - f (wc- 1.1k)

╰┈➤ husband!jay x f!reader

sweet lady - s (wc- 0.9k)

╰┈➤ husband!jay x f!reader

[kinkyhoon]

On the way - Yang Jungwon part 1

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jungwon x fem!reader Genre: college!au, summer love story, fluff, angst Synospsis: Bestfriends forever and nothing will ever make it change...well that's what you thought, but one summer (and an unrequited love) changed everything between the two of you. Maybe you never really saw him as your bestfriend all along... Warnings: dry humping, swearing, oral (both!rec), softdom!jungwon, make out (heavy), alcohol WC: 21k Note: The story takes place in the WGFT Heeseung ff universe and this time it's Jungwon's turn to get his time to shine!!!! Since y’all were so sad about him losing to Heeseung I wanted him to get his happy ending too!!! Hope you enjoy!!! Playlist: Apple Cider by Beabadoobee, Everytime by Ariana Grande, Lost Island by Enhypen, We can't be friends by Ariana Grande, Earrings by Malcolm Todd

You haven't been home in eight months, and somehow the air feels exactly the same as it did when you were seven years old. Some things don't change. Your family's house is exactly as you left it.

"Y/N IS HOME!" your younger brother screams. He barrels into you before you've even dropped your bags, and you stumble backward into the doorframe with an oomph that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

"Daniel, you're seventeen, not seven," you wheeze, patting his back with the one arm that isn't pinned to your side. "You're supposed to be too cool for this."

"Never too cool for my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister."

"That's why you're my favorite."

Your mother appears from the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour, her face breaking into a smile so wide it crinkles the corners of her eyes. She pulls you into a hug t, and for a moment you just stand there, letting yourself be held, letting the chaos of your family wash over you like water.

"You're too thin," she says, pulling back to examine your face. "Have you been eating? College students never eat."

"I eat, Mom."

"Lies. I can see your cheekbones. That's not natural." She pats your face firmly. "We're fixing this immediately. I made braised short ribs. And your grandmother sent over three kinds of kimchi."

The next hour is a blur of unpacking, being force-fed approximately seventeen side dishes, and deflecting increasingly pointed questions from your mother about whether you're "seeing anyone." You dodge the question with the practiced skill of someone who has been dodging it since high school, and eventually your mother gives up and redirects her energy toward making sure you eat a third helping of everything.

It's only when you're helping clear the table that she drops the bomb.

"Take some of the dumplings next door," she says, already packing a container. "The Yangs just got back yesterday. I'm sure Jungwon would love to see you."

Your hands freeze over the sink. "Jungwon's home?"

"The whole family. And Jungwon looks so grown up now. College has been good to him." She presses the container into your hands and gives you a look that brooks no argument. "Go. Say hello. You used to be inseparable, I'm sure he's been dying to catch up."

You and Jungwon. Inseparable. That's one word for it.

You've known Yang Jungwon since you were four years old, a solemn little boy with a bowl cut and a cute smile who had shown up at your family's barbecue with his parents and promptly shared his packet of strawberry Pocky with you without being asked. That was it. That was the beginning. From that moment on, you were a unit, a package deal, a two-for-one special, a matched set that no one bothered trying to separate.

Your childhood is a highlight reel of Jungwon moments. Jungwon teaching you how to ride a bike. Jungwon walking you to school every morning, even when his own school started earlier and he had to leave his friends to do it. Jungwon sneaking you extra snacks from his lunchbox because you always finished yours first.

You never had to explain yourself to Jungwon. He just knew. He knew that you needed silence sometimes, that your sarcasm was a defense mechanism, that you were terrified of thunderstorms but would rather die than admit it. He knew the exact moment you were about to cry (your left eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before the tears came). He knew you better than anyone, and you knew him just as well.

But then he left for college. And two years later, you left too. And the texts that had started out daily became weekly, then sporadic. The phone calls that had stretched for hours became minutes, then voicemails, then silence. You still sent each other memes sometimes, still liked each other's posts. But the closeness that had defined your entire existence had faded.

It's not anyone's fault. It's just what happens. People grow up, move away, build separate lives in separate cities. It's normal. It's fine. You're fine.

The doorbell chimes, a little melody that you remember from a thousand childhood visits. You hear footsteps inside, heavy and quick, and then the door swings open.

And you forget how to breathe.

Jungwon is standing in the doorway, and he is…he's…he's not the boy you remember.

The Jungwon in your memories is soft around the edges. Lanky limbs, round cheeks, the kind of face that made grandmothers pinch his cheeks. This Jungwon is wearing a tank top that is very, very see-through, because it's soaked with sweat. His hair is damp, pushed back from his forehead, and there's a towel slung around his neck that he's holding with one hand. His shoulders, when did he get shoulders? -are broad and defined. He's been working out. He's been working out, and the evidence is right there, and you are staring.

"Y/N?" His voice is deeper than you remember. He says your name like it's something precious, and his face breaks into that familiar smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the one you've known your whole life.

"Dang-" he starts, and then he's pulling you into a hug before you can react, his arms wrapping around you with an enthusiasm that makes the container press awkwardly between your bodies. He smells like sweat and fabric softener and something else, something warm and masculine. "You're home," he says into your hair. "You're actually home. When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago," you manage, your voice coming out relatively normal despite the fact that your face is currently pressed against a pectoral muscle. A pectoral muscle that belongs to Jungwon.

He pulls back, holding you at arm's length, and his eyes sweep over your face with an expression that's so purely, genuinely happy. "You look…you look amazing. Did you get taller?"

"I haven't grown since tenth grade."

"You look taller. It's the posture. You're standing like an adult now."

"Maybe because I’m an adult?"

He laughs. "Come in, come in," he says, stepping aside and gesturing you inside. "Mom's going to lose her mind when she sees you. She was just talking about you yesterday, she found that photo album from the summer we tried to build a treehouse ."

"Oh not the old pictures please."

"You know how nostalgic she can get."

"Y/N?! IS THAT Y/N?"

Mrs. Yang emerges from the kitchen, and within seconds you're enveloped in a hug. She's exactly the same as you remember, warm and effusive, with the same kind eyes that Jungwon inherited.

"Look at you!" she exclaims, pulling back to cup your face in her hands. "You're so beautiful! So grown up! Doesn't she look beautiful, Jungwon?"

"She looks beautiful," Jungwon agrees, and when you glance at him, his ears are slightly pink. Probably from the workout.

"Mom brought dumplings," you say, holding up the container. "She said you just got back yesterday and probably haven't had time to cook."

"That woman is an angel. Tell her we're having dinner together this weekend, no arguments, no excuses. I'm making bibimbap." Mrs. Yang takes the container and steps back toward the kitchen, already calling for her husband to come see who's at the door.

Mr. Yang appears a moment later, and the whole scene devolves into the kind of chaotic, overlapping welcome that you've experienced a hundred times before. Mrs. Yang starts pulling out photo albums. Mr. Yang asks about your classes and nods approvingly at your answers even though you're pretty sure he doesn't fully understand what your major entails.

And then the photo albums open, and the real embarrassment begins.

"Oh, this one!" Mrs. Yang crows, pointing at a photograph. "Look at you two! You must have been... what, six and eight? The school talent show!"

You lean in to look at the photo, and your soul briefly leaves your body.

"We were doing a skit about King Arthur," Jungwon says, his voice pained. "Y/N was Arthur. I was Lancelot."

The photos keep coming. Jungwon's first day of middle school, with you standing next to him on the front steps, your arm linked through his. A Halloween where you both dressed as characters from the same video game. A summer vacation at the beach where Jungwon got sunburned so badly he couldn't move for two days, and you sat beside him reading aloud from his favorite book until he fell asleep.

"I should probably head back," you say eventually, after the photo albums have been exhausted and Mrs. Yang has extracted a firm promise that you'll be at the family dinner this weekend. "Mom's probably wondering if I got kidnapped."

"I'll walk you out," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something slightly awkward, slightly hesitant, that makes your stomach flip.

He walks you to the front door. "Hey," Jungwon says, his hand on the doorframe. "You want to walk to the convenience store? Like old times? I could really go for one of those melon ice creams."

"Sure," you say, and your voice comes out more casual than you feel. "But only if you put on an actual shirt first. I'm not being seen in public with you looking like... that."

He glances down at his tank top, and his ears go pink again. "Right. Yeah. Give me two minutes."

He disappears back into the house, and you stand on the front porch, trying very hard not to think about the way his shoulders looked in that tank top. Or the way his voice has deepened. Or the way his arms felt when he hugged you.

This is Jungwon, you remind yourself firmly. Jungwon, who is basically your brother except not actually your brother but definitely the brother-adjacent figure you've known your entire life.Stop being weird.

He reappears two minutes later in a soft-looking t-shirt and jeans, and the two of you set off down the familiar path toward the convenience store. 

"How's school?" Jungwon asks, falling into step beside you. "Your mom said you're doing really well. Something about making the dean's list?"

"Dean's list, yeah. It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal. You're a genius."

"I'm a person who doesn't sleep enough and has spent more time studying than partying."

"That's what being a genius is."

You laugh and maybe this won't be so hard. Maybe you and Jungwon can just... slip back into the rhythm you always had. Best friends, nothing more, nothing less. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, at the way the fading sunlight catches the angles of his jaw, the way his sleeves stretch slightly over his biceps, the way his lips curve into that familiar half-smile. This is going to be a long summer.

Apple Cider - Beabadoobee now playing

The next few days are as you expected. Jungwon, as it turns out, is completely, infuriatingly, obliviously the same. Not the same as the Jungwon who left for college two years ago, no, he's different in ways that keep catching you off guard. The broader shoulders. The deeper voice. The way he moves now, with a quiet confidence that wasn't there before, like he's grown into his own skin. But the way he treats you? That hasn't changed at all. He's still the same protective, brotherly, endlessly thoughtful Jungwon who's been orbiting your life since before you could tie your own shoes.

And that's the problem.

On Tuesday, he shows up at your house at 9 AM with a toolbox and a determined expression. Your mother mentioned, in passing, at the barbecue planning session that had somehow materialized in your kitchen, that the hinge on the back door was sticking. Jungwon, being Jungwon, took this as a personal mission.

"You don't have to do that," you say, standing in the doorway with a mug of coffee clutched in your hands. You're still in your pajamas. Your hair looks like it's been through a tornado. You were not prepared for visitors.

"It'll take ten minutes," Jungwon says, already crouching down to examine the hinge. His t-shirt rides up slightly as he bends, revealing a strip of skin above his waistband, and you very deliberately look at the ceiling. "Your mom does so much for everyone. The least I can do is fix a door."

"You're a philosophy major, not a handyman."

"Undeclared, technically. And I've picked up some skills." He glances up at you, and his smile is so genuinely warm, so completely devoid of any awareness that he's currently making your morning extremely complicated, that you want to throw your coffee at him. "Besides, I like helping. It makes me feel useful."

"Your people-pleasing is showing."

"My what?"

"Nothing." You take a sip of your coffee. 

On Wednesday, he helps your mother cook. You walk into the kitchen to find them side by side at the counter, your mom teaching him how to fold dumplings. Jungwon's fingers are clumsy with the wrappers, his dumplings coming out lopsided, but he's laughing, that bright, infectious laugh that makes your mother smile and pat his cheek like he's her own son.

"He's such a good boy," your mom says to you later, after Jungwon has gone home with a container full of the dumplings he helped make. "So polite. So helpful. Any girl would be lucky to have him."

You make a noncommittal sound and flee to your room before she can see the color rising in your cheeks.

On Thursday, he brings you boba. Unprompted. Just shows up at your door with two cups of brown sugar milk tea and that same devastating smile, saying he remembered it was your favorite and the new shop in town finally opened and he wanted to try it with you.

"This is bribery," you say, taking the cup anyway. "What do you want?"

"Can't a guy just bring his best friend boba without ulterior motives?"

"I've known you for fifteen years. You definitely have ulterior motives."

"Fine." He has the decency to look slightly sheepish. "My mom wants me to clean out the garage, and I was hoping you'd keep me company while I do it. She said she found our old middle school yearbooks in there, and I thought we could... I don't know. Look through them. For nostalgia."

Nostalgia. Right. Because looking at photographic evidence of your awkward preteen phase while sitting in close proximity to Jungwon in a dusty garage sounds like a completely safe activity that won't do anything weird to your heart.

"Sounds fun," you hear yourself say, because you're a masochist apparently.

And it is fun. Infuriatingly fun. You sit on an old lawn chair while Jungwon sorts through boxes, and you flip through yearbooks filled with photos of the two of you at every stage of adolescence. Jungwon with braces. You with bangs that were a tragic mistake. The two of you at the eighth-grade dance, standing stiffly next to each other. The two of you at the high school soccer game, your face painted with the school colors, his arm slung casually around your shoulders.

"God, we were such dorks," you say, holding up a photo of Jungwon in a truly unfortunate neon-green track suit.

"Speak for yourself. I was rocking that look."

"You looked like a highlighter."

"A very fashionable highlighter."

The laughter comes easily, the way it always has. And that's the thing that's messing with your head. Because when you're actually talking to him, when you're just existing in his presence the way you've done a thousand times before, everything feels normal. Easy. Like nothing's changed. But then he'll reach past you to grab something, and his arm will brush against yours, and you'll catch the scent of his laundry detergent mixed with something warm and distinctly him, and your brain will short-circuit entirely. Or he'll laugh at something you said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you'll find yourself staring at the curve of his lips and wondering things you have absolutely no business wondering about your childhood best friend.

And then the guilt hits. Because this is Jungwon. The boy who has never once looked at you as anything other than his best friend, his little sister. And here you are, mentally glazing every time he so much as flexes his forearms, like some kind of deranged romance novel protagonist who's forgotten the entire context of her own life.

You're terrible. You're a terrible person. You need to get a grip.

The barbecue is on Saturday. Both families, together, in the Yangs' backyard. It's a tradition that's been going on since before you can remember, and missing it would be unthinkable. So you can't avoid it. You can't avoid him.

On Friday afternoon, your mother hands you a grocery list that's approximately the length of a short novel. "We need everything for the marinade, plus the sides, plus drinks, plus-"

"Mom, this is enough food for an army."

"The Yangs are an army. Take Jungwon with you. He's got a car, and you shouldn't be carrying all those bags by yourself."

"I can carry bags. I'm an adult."

"You're a twig. A strong wind could knock you over. Take Jungwon."

So you text Jungwon, and Jungwon responds within thirty seconds with an enthusiastic yes!!! and three emojis that don't go together in any logical way, and twenty minutes later you're in the passenger seat of his car, heading to the grocery store.

"Remember when we used to ride our bikes to the corner store?" he asks, pulling into the parking lot. "We'd pool our allowance and buy as much candy as we could afford, and then we'd sit on the curb and eat it all before dinner."

"And then your mom would be mad because you ruined your appetite."

"She was always mad. I was a very difficult child."

"Yeah, I remember when you used to get ragebaited by your grandma a lot. Really funny."

"Please don’t mention it again."

"You were twelve."

Grocery shopping with Jungwon is an experience. He pushes the cart, pausing every few feet to consult the list your mother gave him and cross-reference it with the items in the cart. He reads the nutrition labels on everything, which is new, the Jungwon of your childhood would have just grabbed whatever had the most colorful packaging.

"College changed you," you observe, watching him compare two jars of sesame oil. "You're like... a responsible adult now. It's disturbing."

"Someone had to become a responsible adult. You're still the same chaos gremlin you've always been."

"You want that gremlin to punch that pretty face of yours?."

"Oh so you like my face? I’m honoured."

"I like your face only when you shut your mouth."

The checkout line is long, and Jungwon insists on paying, "your mom already does so much, let me contribute something", and you're standing beside him, helping bag the groceries, when you see it.

A small box. Brightly colored. Sitting innocently in the plastic bag among the vegetables and the marinade ingredients and the six-pack of Sprite. Condoms. You stare at the box for approximately three seconds, your brain refusing to process what it's seeing. Then the processing kicks in, and a series of thoughts flash through your mind in rapid succession:

That's a box of condoms.

In Jungwon's grocery bag.

Jungwon bought condoms.

Why does Jungwon have condoms?

Oh god, Jungwon has condoms because he uses condoms.

Oh god, Jungwon has sex.

Jungwon has SEX.

WITH PEOPLE.

"Y/N?" Jungwon's voice cuts through your spiral, and you realize you've been frozen in place with a head of cabbage clutched in your hands like a stress ball. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine!" you say, and your voice comes out approximately three octaves higher than normal. "Totally fine. Great. Never been better. Cabbage. Love cabbage. Great vegetable. Very... leafy."

Jungwon squints at you, clearly not buying a single word of this, but the cashier chooses that moment to announce the total, and he turns away to pay. You shove the cabbage into the bag with perhaps more force than necessary.

It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal. He's a twenty-something guy in college. Of course he's had sex. Of course he's bought condoms. This is normal. This is fine. You're fine.

But the thought sticks in your brain like a splinter, and by the time you're back in the car, the groceries loaded into the trunk, you've worked yourself into a state of quiet, internal frenzy.

How many girls has he slept with? Did he have a girlfriend? Multiple girlfriends? Is he seeing someone right now? Why didn't he tell you? Why would he tell you? It's not like you're his- you're not his anything. You're his childhood best friend. You're basically his sister. He doesn't owe you a detailed accounting of his romantic history.

But still.

Who were they? What were they like? Were they pretty? Smart? Funny? Did he hold their hands the way he holds yours? Did he kiss them? Did he-

You cut the thought off before it can finish. You don't want to know. You really, really don't want to know.

Back at your house, you help him carry the groceries inside, your movements mechanical, your brain still running through increasingly unhelpful scenarios. Jungwon is chatting about something, the barbecue, maybe, or his plans for the rest of the summer, but you're barely listening. The box of condoms is burning a hole in your brain.

"Hey," you say, setting down the bag of vegetables with a little more force than strictly necessary. "Can I ask you something?"

"Always." Jungwon turns to face you, his expression open and unguarded, and you feel a pang of guilt for what you're about to do. This is none of your business. You shouldn't be asking this. You have no right to ask this.

But you're asking it anyway, because you're a self-destructive idiot who can't leave well enough alone. "Did you..." You pause, searching for the right words. "In college. Did you... see anyone?"

Jungwon blinks. "See anyone?"

"Like... date. Or... you know. Hook up with. Or whatever." You wave your hand vaguely, like you're talking about the weather. Like this is a casual, normal conversation between two platonic childhood friends who definitely don't have weird, complicated feelings about each other.

Jungwon's ears go pink. "That's... a pretty personal question."

"Forget it. Sorry. None of my business." You turn back to the groceries, your face burning.

"No, it's fine. It's just... unexpected." He leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah. I dated a bit. Nothing serious. I, uh..." He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you recognize from childhood. "I hooked up with some people too."

Some people. Plural. Multiple. The words hit you like a punch to the stomach.

"Okay," you say, your voice remarkably steady considering the chaos happening inside your chest. "Cool. That's cool. Normal college stuff. Good for you."

"Are you sure you want to hear this? You're making that face."

"What face?"

"The face you make when you're trying very hard not to react to something. Your left eyebrow is doing the twitchy thing."

"Totally sure," you say. "I'm just curious. We haven't really talked about... any of this. I don't know anything about your life in college."

Jungwon is quiet for a moment, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. "There was... actually, there was someone I really liked. Last semester."

"Someone you liked," you repeat.

"Yeah. A girl in my philosophy elective. I had this whole crush on her for months, but I was too nervous to say anything." He smiles, but it's a different kind of smile, softer, more distant. "It's kind of a long story. She actually ended up with one of my best friends. It's okay now, they're really happy together, and I'm genuinely glad for them. But it was... a wake-up call, I guess."

"A wake-up call?"

"I realized I'd spent so much time waiting and overthinking that I'd missed my chance. I didn't want that to happen again." He shrugs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "So I decided to just... live. Explore. Stop being so scared of everything. I figured if I didn't put myself out there, I'd just keep watching opportunities pass me by."

"So you started... sleeping around."

"That's a very blunt way to put it."

"I'm a blunt person."

"I know." He laughs, the one that crinkles his eyes. "It's one of the things I've always liked about you."

"So yeah," Jungwon continues. "I hooked up with people. Nothing serious, like I said. Just... trying things. Figuring out what I want. It's been good for me, honestly. I feel more confident now. Less like I'm waiting for something to happen and more like I'm actually living my life."

"That's... good. That's really good." You're saying the right words, but your voice sounds hollow to your own ears. "I'm happy for you."

Jungwon grins. "What about you? Any hot college romances I should know about?"

"No. Nothing. I've been too busy studying."

"Really? No one caught your eye?"

Just you, you don't say. Just the person I'm not supposed to think about like this. Just my childhood best friend who apparently spent his college years having casual hookups with other people while I was sitting in my dorm room wondering why I couldn't feel anything for anyone else.

"Nope," you say out loud. "I'm married to my textbooks."

"That's tragic."

"That's academia."

He laughs again, and then his expression shifts into something more mischievous. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you don't have to be jealous. At least my first kiss was with you."

Your brain screeches to a halt. "What."

"You know. High school. My parents' closet."

Sophomore year. It was a random Saturday afternoon, and both your families were downstairs preparing for some dinner party or another. You and Jungwon had escaped to his parents' room, hiding in the walk-in closet among the coats and the winter boots, having one of those rambling conversations that always seemed to happen when you were alone together.

And somehow, the conversation had turned to kissing. Neither of you had done it before. Neither of you wanted to be bad at it when the time came. And somehow, you still don't remember who suggested it first, you'd agreed to practice. With each other. Just to get it out of the way.

It had started awkward. A nervous brush of lips, both of you too hesitant to commit. But then Jungwon's hand had found your waist, and your fingers had curled into the fabric of his shirt, and something had shifted. The kiss had deepened. Became something hungrier, more urgent. His mouth had moved against yours with a confidence that surprised you both, and you'd made a sound, a small, breathless sound that had made him pull you closer.

It had lasted maybe five minutes. Maybe longer. Time had gone strange and elastic in the darkness of that closet. When you'd finally pulled apart, both of you breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours, neither of you had spoken. The silence had been so loud it was deafening.

And then his mom had called you both for dinner, and you'd scrambled out of the closet like guilty criminals, and neither of you had ever mentioned it again.

Until now. Apparently. Because Jungwon is just casually bringing it up like it's some funny childhood anecdote, like it didn't fundamentally alter your brain chemistry when it happened.

"That wasn't-" you splutter. "That wasn't a kiss. That was... practice."

"Practice that went on for a really long time."

"We were curious!"

"We were very curious."

"YOU'RE THE WORST."

Your fist connects with his stomach before your brain can intervene. It's not a hard punch, you're not trying to actually hurt him but he doubles over anyway, laughing so hard that his shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes, "I'm sorry, your face, you should have seen your face-"

"I HATE YOU."

"You don't hate me. You've never hated me a day in your life."

"I'm starting today. I'm starting right now."

He straightens up, still grinning, and there's no awkwardness in his expression at all. No hidden meaning. No tension. Just fond amusement, like the memory of making out with you in a closet is just one of many sweet, funny moments in the long history of your friendship.

And that's when it hits you. Really, truly hits you.

This whole situation, the confusing feelings, the stolen glances, the jealousy that's been eating you alive since you saw that stupid box of condoms, it's all completely one-sided. Jungwon isn't looking at you differently. Jungwon isn't secretly harboring feelings for you. Jungwon is exactly where he's always been: your best friend, your brother in all but blood, the person who knows you better than anyone and loves you exactly the way he always has.

Platonically. Completely, utterly, devastatingly platonically.

"I should... go help my mom with the marinade," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel. "I'll see you tomorrow. At the barbecue."

"Definitely." Jungwon's smile is warm and genuine and so completely oblivious that it makes your chest ache. 

You're already backing out of the kitchen, your movements stiff and mechanical. Jungwon gives you a little wave, already turning back to the groceries, completely unaware that he's just detonated a bomb in the middle of your emotional state.

You make it to your home, then your room. You close the door. You lock it. And then you punch your pillow with the full force of your frustration.

"At least my first kiss was with you," you mutter, mimicking his voice in a high, mocking tone. "So you don't have to be jealous." Punch. "It was PRACTICE." Punch. "We were CURIOUS." Punch. "I've been pining like an IDIOT and you're out there having HOOKUPS and telling me about your PHILOSOPHY CRUSH."

You collapse face-first onto the pillow, your voice muffled by the fabric.

"He's so STUPID. He's so OBLIVIOUS. He's out there looking like THAT and talking about his SEX LIFE and bringing me BOBA and fixing my mom's DOOR and he doesn't even NOTICE-"

You stop. You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. "What doesn't he notice?" you ask the empty room.

You know the answer. You've known the answer since the moment you saw him standing in that doorway in his stupid see-through tank top. You're into him. You're into him. Into your childhood best friend who has never once looked at you as anything other than a little sister. Into the guy who just casually told you about his college hookups and his philosophy crush and the fact that he decided to "explore his youth," whatever that means.

And what are you supposed to do with that? Confess? Risk ruining a friendship that's been the most stable thing in your life for fifteen years? Put everything on the line for a chance that he might, maybe, possibly feel something too?

No. Absolutely not. You're not going to be one of those people who ruins a lifelong friendship because they can't control their feelings. You're stronger than that. You're smarter than that. You're going to shove these feelings into a box, lock the box, and throw away the key.

Reality check, you tell yourself firmly. He doesn't see you that way. He's never seen you that way. The closet kiss was just curiosity. The way he looks at you is just friendship. The way he always saves you a seat and remembers your boba order and offers to fix things around your house is just the person he is…kind and thoughtful and completely, thoroughly platonic.

You are his childhood best friend. You are basically his sister. And that's all you're ever going to be.

You press your face back into the pillow and let out a long, muffled groan.

The barbecue is in full swing by the time you make your way to the Yangs backyard, and the scene is exactly as chaotic as you expected.

Mr. Yang is manning the grill. Your father is standing beside him, offering unsolicited advice about the proper way to flip the meet, which Mr. Yang is ignoring with the practiced patience of someone who has been receiving this advice for two decades. Your mother and Mrs. Yang are setting up the side dishes on the long picnic table, their heads bent together in what looks like a very intense gossip session. And Jungwon, Jungwon is walking toward you with a plate of meat fresh off the grill and a smile that makes your stomach do a flip.

"You're late," he says, holding out the plate. "I saved you the first batch before my dad could burn it."

You take the plate, and your fingers brush against his. The contact is brief, barely a second, but your skin tingles where he touched you, and you have to resist the urge to yank your hand back like you've been burned. This is fine. You've made peace with your feelings and shoved them into a mental box, and you're going to act completely normal today.

"Thanks for the meat," you say, and your voice comes out blessedly casual.

"You look kinda goofy."

"And you look like an idiot."

"Your idiot," he says. He doesn't mean it the way you want him to mean it. He means it the way he's always meant it, best friends, partners in crime, the two of you against the world. 

The afternoon unfolds in the easy, familiar rhythm of family gatherings. You eat too much. Your mother tells embarrassing stories about your childhood. Mrs. Yang counters with embarrassing stories about Jungwon's childhood. At some point, someone produces a karaoke machine, and your father treats everyone to a truly spectacular show of an eighties power ballad that has the entire yard howling with laughter.

And through it all, there's Jungwon. Sitting beside you at the picnic table, his knee occasionally bumping against yours. Refilling your drink before you even realize it's empty. Catching your eye from across the yard and making funny faces until you crack a smile. It's so normal. So familiar. So exactly like every other barbecue you've attended in the past fifteen years.

Except it's not. Because now you're aware of him in a way you never were before. Now you notice the way his laugh sounds when he throws his head back. Now you catalog the way his fingers curl around his cup, the way his shoulders move under his shirt, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins at you. It's exhausting. It's infuriating. It's the most alive you've felt in months.

"You're eating all the mushrooms," Jungwon observes, watching you pluck another one from the communal plate. "You know other people might want mushrooms, right?"

"Other people should have been faster."

"There were like ten mushrooms on that plate and you've taken eight of them."

"Nine, actually. I took one while you were talking."

He laughs, and you stuff another mushroom in your mouth to compensate.

The conversation shifts, as it always does, into the easy back-and-forth that's been your default setting since childhood. You argue about the correct way to pronounce a word you both heard differently. You debate whether the new coffee shop in town is better than the old one. You're laughing unguarded, when Jungwon reaches past you to grab the pitcher of lemonade. His hand slides across your lower back as he moves, just for a second, just to steady himself, but the contact sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His palm is warm through the thin fabric of your shirt, and his fingers press lightly against your waist, and his voice, when he speaks, is low and close to your ear.

"Excuse me for a second," he murmurs, and the tone, casual, intimate, completely unaware of what he's doing to you, makes your knees go weak.

Do not fold, you command yourself. Do not fold. You are a strong, independent person who is not going to melt because your childhood best friend touched your waist like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"The lemonade," you manage, your voice slightly strangled. "It's... right there."

"I see it now. Thanks."

His hand slides away, and you exhale a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Across the yard, your mother catches your eye and raises an eyebrow. You pointedly look away.

The drinking competition starts, as all great disasters do, with your father.

"Beer!" he announces, standing up from his lawn chair with the slightly unsteady enthusiasm of someone who has already had two. "We need more beer! And a competition!"

"A competition for what?" Mr. Yang asks, looking up from the grill.

"Drinking! We're all old now. When was the last time we really let loose?"

"Last New Year's Eve," your mother says flatly. "You threw up in the rose bushes."

"Details."

Despite your mother's protests, the beer is produced. And not just a few bottles, your father disappears into the house and emerges with an entire case, his expression triumphant. Within twenty minutes, both sets of parents are lined up at the picnic table, a row of shot glasses (filled with beer, because they're middle-aged adults who know their limits but are pretending not to) arranged in front of them.

"Rules!" your father announces. "First one to tap out loses. Winner gets bragging rights for the entire year."

"There are no rules," Mrs. Yang says. "You just made this up."

"I'm the commissioner of this competition. I can make rules."

"You're an accountant."

"I'm an accountant and a commissioner."

The competition, predictably, devolves into chaos. Your mother, who has the alcohol tolerance of a hummingbird, bows out after two shots and spends the next hour giggling at everything anyone says. Mrs. Yang puts up a surprisingly strong fight, matching your father shot for shot until she suddenly stops mid-sentence, blinks, and announces that the sky is "very sky-like tonight." Mr. Yang, who has been nursing the same beer for the entire afternoon, is declared the winner by default when your father attempts a victory shot and misses his own mouth entirely.

"I won?" Mr. Yang says, looking genuinely confused. "I didn't know we were competing."

"That's the spirit," your father slurs, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's winning energy."

By the time the sun sets, both sets of parents are in various states of inebriation. Your mother is asleep in a lawn chair, her head tilted back and her mouth slightly open. Mrs. Yang is having a very intense conversation with the family dog about the meaning of life. Your father and Mr. Yang are attempting to fold up the picnic table and failing spectacularly.

Which leaves you and Jungwon. The only two sober people in a yard full of chaos.

"We should probably clean this up," you say, surveying the carnage. Empty bottles cover the picnic table. Plates of half-eaten food are scattered across every available surface. Someone, you suspect your father, has draped a string of fairy lights around the grill in what appears to be an attempt at decoration.

"Probably," Jungwon agrees. "Or we could just leave it and let them deal with it tomorrow."

"Your mom is currently explaining life to a golden retriever."

"The dog seems very engaged."

"Jungwon."

"Fine, fine. I'll get the trash bags."

The cleanup takes the better part of an hour. You collect the empty bottles while Jungwon tackles the food, scraping leftovers into containers and stacking plates with the practiced efficiency of someone who has cleaned up after many family gatherings. The parents eventually stagger inside, your mom leaning heavily on your dad, Mrs. Yang still muttering philosophical observations to the dog, until it's just the two of you in the quiet backyard, the only light coming from the string of fairy lights that your father had so artistically arranged.

"Well," Jungwon says, tying off the last trash bag. "That was..."

"A disaster?"

"I was going to say a successful family event, but disaster works too."

"It's not a real barbecue until someone passes out."

"Your dad set a new record this year. He almost made it to sunset."

"Personal growth."

Jungwon laughs, and the sound echoes in the quiet yard. He's standing close to you, closer than you realized and the fairy lights catch the angles of his face, the curve of his smile, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. He looks like something out of a movie. A romance movie. The kind you watch when you want to torture yourself with unrealistic expectations about love.

"So," he says, leaning against the now-clean picnic table. "The parents are asleep. The food is put away. The dog is having an existential crisis. What now?"

"I don't know. Go home? Go to bed?"

"We could do that." He tilts his head, and there's something in his expression, something teasing, something challenging. "Or we could continue the tradition."

"What tradition?"

"The drinking competition. You know. Carry on the family legacy."

"Everyone else is passed out."

"Exactly. The title is still up for grabs."

You raise an eyebrow. "You want to have a drinking competition. With me."

"I want to see if you can handle it." His smile widens, and it's the same smile he used to give you when you were kids. "Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared. I'm sensible. There's a difference."

"Sensible is just a word scared people use."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"It makes perfect sense. You just don't want to admit it."

The banter is familiar, comforting. But there's something different about it tonight. Something that feels almost like flirting, even though you know it's not. Even though Jungwon is just being Jungwon, and you're just being you, and this is exactly the kind of stupid challenge you would have accepted without hesitation back when you were teenagers and didn't know any better.

"Fine. But I'm warning you, I'm very competitive."

"So am I."

"My dad keeps a bottle of whiskey in the study," he says over his shoulder. "The good kind. The kind he thinks no one knows about."

"You're going to steal your dad's whiskey?"

"I'm going to borrow it. There's a difference."

"That's not how borrowing works."

"It's how my borrowing works."

The Yangs' house is quiet and dark, the only sound the distant snoring of a parent somewhere upstairs. You follow Jungwon to the study. He rummages through the bottom drawer with the confidence of someone who has done this before, and when he straightens up, there's a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"Ta-da," he says, holding it up like a trophy. "Twelve-year aged whiskey. My dad's been saving it for a special occasion."

"And this counts as a special occasion?"

"First barbecue of the summer? Definitely special."

"You're going to regret this tomorrow."

"Probably. But that's future Jungwon's problem. Current Jungwon wants to see if you can hold your liquor."

You follow him back to the living room, where he produces two glasses from the kitchen and pours generous measures of whiskey into each. He hands you a glass, and your fingers brush against his, and you very pointedly do not think about the contact.

"Rules," Jungwon says, settling onto the couch. "We take turns. Each of us drinks when it's our turn. First one to tap out loses."

"That's not a game. That's just... drinking."

"It's a drinking game. The game is drinking."

"That's the laziest game I've ever heard of."

"Do you have a better idea?"

You don't. So you clink your glass against his and take your first sip.

The whiskey burns going down, warm and smoky, and you can feel it spreading through your chest like a slow fire. Jungwon takes his turn, then you take yours. The glasses are refilled. The room starts to feel warmer, Jungwon's face is slightly flushed now, and his laugh comes easier, and he's sitting closer to you on the couch than he was before. Or maybe you're sitting closer to him. It's hard to tell.

"Remember the closet?" he says, and the question catches you off guard.

"What closet?"

"My parents' closet. High school. The-"

"I know which closet." Your face is heating, and it's not just from the whiskey. "What about it?"

Jungwon grins, and it's a looser grin than usual, less guarded. "Nothing. Just... that was a good kiss. For a first kiss, I mean."

"It was practice."

"It was a lot of practice."

"You're drunk."

"So are you."

"I'm not drunk. I'm... pleasantly tipsy."

"That's a very fancy way of saying drunk."

"I'm a fancy person."

"You're wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon cat on it."

"The cat is wearing a top hat. That makes it fancy."

Jungwon laughs so hard he nearly spills his whiskey. You catch his arm to steady him, and the contact is electric, and you pull your hand back like you've been burned.

"You know what," you say, the whiskey courage flooding through your veins, "you were actually a terrible kisser. Back then. In the closet. You were bad at it."

Jungwon's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Terrible. All teeth and no technique."

"That is... extremely revisionist history."

"It's accurate history. You were bad. I was just being nice about it."

"I was not bad. I was-" He pauses, searching for the right word. "-enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastically bad."

"You were enthusiastic too!"

"I was practicing. There's a difference."

The room is spinning slightly now, but you don't care. The whiskey has unlocked something in you, something reckless and brave and completely, utterly stupid. The mental box where you've been storing your feelings is starting to crack at the edges, and you can't seem to find the energy to patch it back up.

Childhood friend? Brother-sister bond? Screw that. Screw all of that.

"I've had time to perfect it, you know," Jungwon says, and his voice is lower now, rougher. "Since high school. I've gotten better."

"That's what you think."

"It's what I know."

"Prove it."

The words hang in the air between you like a challenge. Like a dare. 

Jungwon blinks, his glass pausing halfway to his lips. "Prove it?"

"You said you've gotten better. I don't believe you." Your heart is hammering, but your voice is steady. "I want to test it out. For scientific purposes."

"You're drunk."

"So are you. That's not an excuse."

Jungwon stares at you for a long moment. His expression is unreadable, surprise, confusion, something else that flickers in his eyes and disappears before you can identify it.

"You're serious," he says.

"I'm always serious."

"You're the least serious person I know."

"And yet here I am. Being serious."

The silence stretches between you. Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. This is it. This is the moment where he laughs it off, makes a joke, brings back the familiar brotherly distance that's been the foundation of your friendship for fifteen years.

But he doesn't.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is so quiet you almost miss it. "Let's test it out."

He sets down his glass. You set down yours. Jungwon stands up, and you stand up, and the room tilts slightly, but you don't care.

"Let’s go to my place," you say, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady. "My room. The parents are all passed out anyway."

"Your room," Jungwon repeats. "Your childhood bedroom. With the stuffed animals and the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling."

"The stars are still there. The stuffed animals are in a box."

Jungwon follows you to your house (which is literally five steps outside his house). Your room is exactly as you left it, the bed is made, the curtains drawn, and the lamp on your nightstand casts a warm, golden light across everything.

Jungwon stands in the doorway, his hand on the frame, his expression caught between hesitation and something else. "Last chance to back out," he says quietly.

"I don't want to back out."

"You're sure?"

Everytime - Ariana Grande now playing

Instead of answering, you reach out and grab the front of his shirt, pulling him into the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

Jungwon sits at the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. You stand before him for a moment, heart pounding in your chest, before climbing onto his lap, straddling him with a confidence you don't know you possess.

His hands immediately find your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shorts. He pulls you closer, pressing you against the growing hardness beneath his jeans, and a soft gasp escapes your lips.

"What are you waiting to kiss me?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with intoxication.

Instead of answering, you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss starts slow, tentative that quickly deepens as years of suppressed desire come rushing to the surface. His lips are soft but demanding, moving against yours with a practiced confidence that makes your head spin.

The kiss quickly escalates from tender to feverish. You are devouring each other, mouths opening wider, tongues tangling in a desperate dance. It is messy and urgent and everything you haven't let yourself imagine for all those years. Jungwon's hands roam your body, sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, then back down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him.

He starts sucking your tongue into his mouth, drawing it in with a deliberate, sexual rhythm that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His eyes remain open, locked with yours as he works your tongue, the intensity of his gaze nearly undoing you completely. The wet, obscene sounds of his sucking fill the room, mingling with your ragged breaths.

Your hips begin to move instinctively, grinding against him in a rhythm that matches the pull of his mouth on your tongue. The friction of your clothed bodies sliding together creates a heat that is almost unbearable.

"Fuck," he groans against your mouth, releasing your tongue briefly. "You feel so good. Move harder."

His words spur you on, and you move with abandon, dry humping him with a desperate need that borders on obscene. Every thrust of your hips against his sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel his arousal pressing insistently against you, growing harder with each movement.

Jungwon's hands slip under your shirt, his rough palms sliding against your skin as he explores the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. You tilt your head back, giving him better access as your hips continue their relentless rhythm.

"You like that?" he whispers against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "Like riding me like this? So desperate for it."

"Shut up," you breathe, even as your body responds to his taunts, moving faster, harder.

"Make me," he challenges, capturing your lips again in another searing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth with renewed intensity, and this time you meet him with equal fervor, sucking and licking and biting in a battle for dominance that neither of you is truly trying to win.

The room grows hotter, the air thick with the scent of whisky and arousal. Jungwon's hands roam freely now, squeezing your breasts through your shirt, pinching your nipples until you cry out against his mouth.

"You’re so cute," he murmurs, his words muffled by your kisses. "Wonder how you'd look with my mouth somewhere else." Jungwon meets your rhythm, thrusting up against you, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Look at you," he continues, his voice dropping lower, becoming rougher. "So desperate for it. Bet you're soaking through these panties right now, aren't you?"

"Only if you're not already leaking through those jeans," you shoot back, your own voice breathy with need.

His response is a guttural groan as he increases the pace, his hips bucking up to meet yours with an urgency that matches your own. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the symphony of wet kisses, ragged breaths, and whispered profanities that fill the room.

"Jungwon," you gasp against his mouth, the name a prayer and a curse all at once.

"Right here," he responds, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even closer as he increases the friction between you. "Not going anywhere."

The pressure builds to an almost unbearable level, your movements becoming frantic as you chase your release. Jungwon seems to sense your need, his mouth returning to yours in a kiss that is both possessive and tender, his tongue once again sucking yours into his mouth with a rhythm that pushes you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes over you with surprising intensity, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you collapse against him, boneless and trembling. Jungwon holds you through it, his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses against your hair as you struggle to catch your breath.

When your senses slowly return, you become aware of the hardness still pressing against you, a testament to his own unsatisfied desire. You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room.

"Your turn," you whisper, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you prepare to return the favor.

Just as you shift to take control, Jungwon's hands shoot out, gripping your waist with surprising strength. "Oh no," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "I'm not letting you lead this game. Not yet."

Before you can protest, he's flipped the positions, maneuvering you with an ease that is both impressive and infuriating. You find yourself sitting at the edge of the bed, breathless from the sudden movement, while Jungwon kneels before you. His eyes, dark and intense, never leave yours as his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts.

"These have to go," he states simply, tugging them down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. A flush creeps up your neck as you realize how wet you are, the evidence of your earlier orgasm glistening on your thighs.

Jungwon notices too, of course. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he traces a finger along the damp skin of your inner thigh. "Well now," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Someone got excited. Tell me, Y/N, did you just squirt? Because this looks like more than just regular excitement."

You open your mouth to deliver a sharp comeback, but the words die on your lips as he leans in, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh. His lips are warm and gentle against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions.

"I should kiss your lips from down there too," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot against your core. "Since you're so convinced I'm a terrible kisser, maybe I need to practice on a different set of lips."

His mouth moves higher, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Then he pauses, sucking gently at the tender skin of your inner thigh, leaving a dark mark that will surely be visible tomorrow. He repeats the action on the other side, creating matching hickeys that stand out against your pale skin.

"I don't see the point of putting them on the neck," he explains, admiring his handiwork. "These are much more interesting, don't you think?"

You can't form a coherent response, not when his mouth is so close to where you need it most. And then he is there, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path along your folds. The sensation is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Jungwon doesn't hold back. He devours you with an enthusiasm that is almost overwhelming, his tongue exploring every inch of your most sensitive areas. It is too much, too intense, and you find yourself trying to slide away, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

But Jungwon isn't having it. His arms lock around your thighs, holding you in place as he effortlessly slides you back toward his waiting mouth. "Oh no you don't," he growls against your core. "You wanted proof, and I'm not done proving anything yet."

His tongue enters you then, fucking you with a rhythm that makes your toes curl. It is delicious, the way he moves inside you, exploring every inch of your inner walls with a skill that is both impressive and infuriating. You look down at him, at the way his dark hair falls across his forehead as he works, at the intense concentration on his face as he focuses on bringing you pleasure.

Just as you are approaching the edge again, he slows down, his movements becoming deliberate, teasing. He runs his tongue through your folds with agonizing slowness, pausing occasionally to look up at you, his eyes dark with challenge. He knows exactly what he is doing, the bastard. He is provoking you, testing your limits, pushing you to the brink of insanity with his maddeningly slow pace.

The sounds are the worst part, or the best part, you can't decide. Each slow lick is accompanied by a wet, sucking noise that echoes in the quiet room, a constant reminder of what is happening between your legs. 

"Say it," he murmurs against you, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Say I'm a good kisser."

You bite your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction. You are always stubborn, always bratty when challenged, and this is no different. If he wants you to admit he is good, he is going to have to work harder for it.

Jungwon chuckles, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. "Still so defiant," he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. "Is that how you treat your precious friend?"

He returns to his task with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue moving faster now, his lips sucking at your clit with a rhythm that makes your hips buck involuntarily. 

"Come on, Y/N," he urges, his voice rough with desire. "Just say it. Say I'm a good kisser, and I'll let you come."

That is all it takes. The combination of his skilled tongue and his dirty talk sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. As waves of pleasure course through your body, the words finally tumble from your lips.

"You're a good kisser," you gasp, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Oh god, Jungwon, you're such a good kisser."

Jungwon continues his ministrations through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you are completely spent, collapsing back against the bed with a satisfied sigh. Only then does he pull away, a triumphant grin on his face as he looks up at you.

"Glad we settled that," he says, his voice smug with satisfaction. He rises to his feet, standing before you with a noticeable bulge in his jeans. "Now it's your turn. Suck my dick."

Jungwon doesn't wait for an answer. He simply stands and begins to unbutton his jeans. He pushes his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, and his cock springs free, hard and heavy.

He stands before you, completely exposed from the waist down. He is bigger than you'd somehow imagined, thick and curving slightly upward, the tip already glistening with precum. A vein pulses along the underside.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice low and rough. It isn't a request, but you find yourself complying without hesitation, sliding off the bed onto the plush carpet of your bedroom floor. He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that his cock is nearly level with your face. He tangles his fingers in your hair, his grip firm but not painful, using it to tilt your head back.

"Open up," he murmurs, his eyes dark with intensity as he looks down at you. "Let's see if that mouth is good for more than just talking back."

You part your lips, your heart pounding in your chest as he guides himself to your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty bitterness of his precum, and he lets out a low groan, his fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes, his voice strained. "Just like that."

You take him into your mouth then, slowly at first, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he fills you so completely. You move your tongue along the underside, tracing the path of that pulsing vein, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily.

"Careful," he warns, though his tone is more pleased than admonishing. "I’m enjoying this a bit too much."

You want to see him come undone, to hear him gasp and groan, to know that you are the one causing his pleasure. You take him deeper then, until the tip of his cock brushes against the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, your muscles contracting.

"Jesus Christ," he gasps, his hips beginning to move in a shallow rhythm. "You're…fuck…you're really good at this."

You pull back slightly, creating a suction that makes his eyes roll back in his head. Then you take him deep again. Your hands come up to grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch as he fights to maintain control.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with need. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you're sucking my cock."

You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his as you continue your ministrations. The intensity in his gaze is nearly overwhelming, a mixture of raw desire and something that looks suspiciously like affection. Jungwon begins to move more freely then, his hips thrusting in time with the movements of your mouth. The pace quickens, growing more frantic as he approaches his release. 

"I'm close," he warns, his voice strained.

You can feel it too, the way his cock seems to swell in your mouth, the way his thrusts become more erratic. You double your efforts, taking him as deep as you can, your tongue working frantically against him.

"Y/N," he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair. "I'm…fuck, I'm coming."

His release is sudden and explosive, hot and salty as he spills into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, taking everything he has to give. When he is finished, Jungwon pulls away slowly, his cock softening as he withdraws from your mouth. He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and satisfaction, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

"Come here," he says, his voice softening as he reaches down to help you to your feet. He pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both tender and reassuring, tasting of him and of you and of everything you have just shared.

"You did great," he murmurs against your lips, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

You melt against him, your body still humming with pleasure, your mind reeling from the intensity of what has just happened. 

You wake up to the sensation of someone driving a truck over you.

No. Wait. That's just the hangover.

Your eyes crack open, and the first thing you register is the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. The second thing you register is that your mouth tastes like something died in it. The third thing is that you're wearing only one sock. The fourth thing hits you like a freight train.

Jungwon.

You bolt upright so fast that the room spins violently, and you have to press your palm against your forehead to keep your brain from escaping through your ears. The memories come flooding back in fragmented, disjointed flashes, the whiskey, the challenge, the door clicking shut. His hands on your waist. You grinding on him. The way he'd said your name, low and rough, like it was something sacred.

You look down at yourself. You're still in your shirt from last night, wrinkled but still there. Your shorts are on the floor. And there, on your inner thigh, just above your knee, is a mark. A small, purplish bruise that definitely wasn't there yesterday.

You look for more, your heart hammering, and find another one. And another. A whole constellation of hickeys mapping a path across your skin.

"Oh my god," you whisper to the empty room. "Oh my god, it wasn't a dream."

It was not a dream. It was very much not a dream. You and Jungwon had gone at each other like two people who had been waiting their entire lives for an excuse. There had been hands and mouths and the kind of sounds you didn't know you were capable of making. And now you have to face him.

You spend approximately fifteen minutes staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to will the evidence off your skin. The hickeys are not going anywhere unfortunately. The smell of breakfast hits you before you even reach the bottom of the stairs. Eggs. Bacon. The unmistakable aroma of your mother's hangover soup, which she only makes when the entire household has made questionable decisions the night before. You follow the scent to the kitchen, your stomach churning with a mixture of nausea and pure, undiluted terror.

And there he is.

Jungwon is sitting at your kitchen table. Your kitchen table. In your house. Eating your mother's cooking like he belongs there, which, to be fair, he kind of does. He's been eating at this table since before he could see over the edge of it. But today, the sight of him makes your entire body go hot and cold at the same time.

He looks... fine. Completely, infuriatingly fine. His hair is slightly damp, like he's just showered. He's wearing a soft-looking sweater and jeans, and he's laughing at something your dad is saying, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way. There's no sign of a hangover. No sign of regret. No sign that anything at all has changed between you.

"There she is!" your mother announces, spotting you in the doorway. "The last survivor of last night's chaos. Come, sit. I made soup."

You mumble something that might be "good morning" or might be "please kill me," and you slide into the chair across from Jungwon. He glances up at you, and for one heart-stopping moment, you think you see something flicker in his eyes, a flash of recognition, a hint of heat, but then it's gone, replaced by that same easy, brotherly smile.

"Rough night?" he asks, and his tone is light, teasing, completely normal.

"You could say that."

"Your dad was snoring so loud I could hear it from my house."

You stare at Jungwon, waiting for something, a knowing look, a secret smile, something that acknowledges what happened between you. But he just keeps eating his eggs, chatting with your parents like this is any other morning, like he didn't spend a significant portion of last night with his mouth on your-

"Y/N, you're not eating," your mother says, pushing the soup closer to you. "Are you feeling okay? You look flushed."

"I'm fine," you manage. "Just... tired."

"Too much whiskey," your dad says sagely. "I told you kids. The Yangs can hold their liquor. Our family has no chance."

"I'm literally a Yang," Jungwon points out.

"Exactly. You have the advantage. It's genetics."

The conversation flows around and you sit there in silence, pushing your soup around your bowl, watching Jungwon act like everything is normal. Like everything is fine. Like he didn't whisper your name against your lips in the dark of your childhood bedroom.

It's infuriating. It's absolutely, completely, maddeningly infuriating.

The moment breakfast ends, you corner him.

Your parents have retreated to the living room, and Jungwon is at the sink, rinsing his bowl with the same helpful energy he's always had. You wait until you hear the TV turn on, and then you grab his arm and pull him into the hallway.

"Hey-" he starts, but you're already backing him against the wall, your hands planted on either side of him, your eyes blazing.

"What the hell was that?"

Jungwon blinks at you. "What was what?"

"That!" You gesture vaguely at the kitchen, at the breakfast table, at the entire morning. "Sitting there, eating eggs, acting like nothing happened!"

"Because nothing happened."

"Nothing-" You choke on the word. "Nothing happened? Jungwon, we…last night…my room…"

Understanding dawns on his face, and his expression shifts into something more serious. More guarded. "Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

He exhales slowly, his shoulders dropping. "Y/N, look. Last night was..." He pauses, searching for the right word. "It was a mistake."

The word hits you like a slap. "A mistake."

"Not because of you," he adds quickly, his ears turning pink. "Never because of you. But I shouldn't have... we were both drunk. We weren't thinking clearly. I took advantage of the situation, and I'm sorry."

"You didn't take advantage of anything. I'm the one who started it."

"You were drunk."

"So were you."

"That's exactly my point." He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated gesture you've seen a thousand times. "We were both drunk, and we did things that... that we probably wouldn't have done if we were sober. And I don't want that to change anything between us."

Your stomach drops. "You don't?"

"No. You're my best friend, Y/N. You've been my best friend since I was six years old. I'm not going to let one night of... whatever that was... ruin fifteen years of friendship." His voice is earnest, his eyes searching your face for understanding. "I mean, it wasn't even... we didn't even... it was just foreplay, right? It's not like we went all the way. We can just forget it happened. Move on. Go back to normal."

Just foreplay. The words echo in your head like a taunt. Just foreplay. Like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter. Like the marks on your thighs are just random bruises, meaningless and forgettable.

"Right," you hear yourself say, and your voice comes out remarkably steady. "Just foreplay. No big deal."

"Exactly." Jungwon's shoulders relax, and the smile that spreads across his face is so relieved, so genuinely happy, that it makes your chest ache. "I knew you'd understand. You've always been the reasonable one."

"I'm the sarcastic one. You're the reasonable one."

"Then we're both reasonable. Even better." He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, and then he's walking past you, back toward the kitchen, calling out something to your mom about helping with the dishes.

You stand there in the hallway, your back pressed against the wall, and you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. You blink them back furiously. You are not going to cry. You are not going to cry over Jungwon, who just called what happened between you a mistake. Who said it was just foreplay. Who wants to forget it happened and move on.

You're not going to cry. But you're also not going to forget.

Two days pass.

Two days of pretending everything is normal. Two days of Jungwon acting exactly the same as he always has, helpful and cheerful and brotherly and infuriating. Two days of you smiling and nodding and laughing at his jokes while something hot and angry and desperate simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.

The problem is, you can't stop looking at him.

Every time he reaches for something, you notice the flex of his forearm. Every time he laughs, you watch the way his throat moves. Every time he brushes past you, your body remembers the weight of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the sound of his voice saying your name in the dark. 

It's frustrating. It's maddening. It's the most alive you've felt in years.

"Convenience store run?" Jungwon appears in your doorway on the third afternoon. "I'm craving melon ice cream."

"You're always craving melon ice cream."

"Pretty please."

"Fine." You grab your jacket and follow him out.

Jungwon chatters about nothing, a movie he wants to see, a new boba flavor he tried and hated. You respond in monosyllables, your attention divided between the conversation and the way the afternoon light catches the angles of his jaw.

You need to get a grip. You really, really need to get a grip.

The convenience store is blessedly air-conditioned and mostly empty. Jungwon heads straight for the ice cream aisle, leaving you to wander toward the chip section.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

You turn. The guy standing in front of you is vaguely familiar. It takes you a moment to place him, but then the memory clicks into focus: Jaehyun. High school. You'd sat next to each other in math class for two years.

"Jaehyun!" you say, genuinely surprised. "Wow, it's been a while."

"Right? Three years, maybe? You look great." He grins, and it's a nice grin, friendly and open. "Are you back for the summer?"

"Yeah, just visiting family. You?"

"Same. My parents still live in the old house, so I'm stuck here until August." He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Small towns, right? Nothing ever changes."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation flows easily, catching up on majors and career plans and mutual acquaintances from high school.

"Hey, we should catch up properly sometime," Jaehyun says, pulling out his phone. "A bunch of us are doing a bonfire next weekend. You should come. Bring whoever you want."

"Yeah, maybe. That sounds-"

And then his hand reaches out and ruffles your hair. It's an innocent gesture. Friendly. The same kind of casual physical contact that people exchange all the time without thinking about it. But before you can even process what's happening, there's a blur of movement behind you, and Jaehyun’s wrist is being yanked away from your head with enough force to make him yelp.

"Hey now," Jungwon's voice says, and it's light, teasing, the same tone he uses when he's joking around. But there's something underneath it, something cold and sharp that you've never heard before. "Let's keep our hands to ourselves, yeah?"

Jaehyun stares at him, his eyes wide. You stare too. Jungwon is smiling, a pleasant, polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes. 

"I was just-" Jaehyun starts.

"Just saying hi. I get it." Jungwon's smile doesn't waver. "But here's the thing…you don't touch her hair. That's not something you get to do. Understand?"

Jaehyun nods quickly, and Jungwon releases his wrist, patting him on the shoulder with that same easy, friendly energy.

"Good talk. Enjoy your summer, man."

And then he's turning away, his hand finding your elbow, steering you toward the checkout counter. You catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s face, confused, slightly alarmed, before you're being dragged down the snack aisle and out of view.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss, yanking your arm free.

"What was what?" Jungwon doesn't look at you. He's studying the ice cream selection like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

"That! With Jaehyun! You just, you threatened him!"

"I didn't threaten him. I set a boundary. There's a difference."

"You grabbed his wrist!"

"Gently."

"Jungwon." You step in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "What is your deal?"

For a long moment, he doesn't answer. His expression is unreadable, his jaw tight. Then he moves, one step, two, and suddenly you're backing up, your shoulders hitting the cold glass door of the ice cream freezer. He's right there, inches away, his body crowding yours against the door, and you can feel the chill of the glass through your shirt and the heat of him in front of you.

His hand comes up. His fingers slide into your hair. And then he ruffles it,but it's not the casual gesture from before. It's slower. More deliberate. His fingertips trace against your scalp, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

"Don't let other guys touch your hair," he says quietly, and his voice is low and rough and completely, utterly serious. "That's mine."

You stare up at him, your heart hammering, your brain short-circuiting. His face is close, so close you can see the individual strands of his eyelashes, the way his pupils have gone dark and wide. He looks like a completely different person. He looks like someone who wants to devour you.

And then he steps back. "Anyway," he says, and his voice is back to normal, cheerful and light, like nothing at all just happened. "I'm getting melon and chocolate. You want strawberry, right?"

He turns and walks toward the checkout counter, leaving you frozen against the ice cream freezer, your legs weak, your heart racing, your hair still tingling where he touched it.

What. The hell. Was that.

You stay there for a solid thirty seconds, trying to remember how to breathe. The cold from the freezer is seeping through your shirt, and you can hear Jungwon chatting with the cashier like he didn't just press you against a freezer and claim ownership of your hair. Your hair. Like it belongs to him. Like you belong to him.

And the worst part, the absolute, devastating worst part is that some dark, twisted corner of your brain liked it. Liked the way he'd crowded you. Liked the way he'd said mine in that low, possessive voice. Liked the way his fingers had felt in your hair, slow and deliberate and completely unlike anything he'd ever done before.

You push yourself off the freezer door and follow him to the checkout. Jungwon is already paying, his expression serene, his posture relaxed.

"Got your strawberry," he says, holding up the ice cream. "Ready to go?"

You nod mutely.

The walk home is quiet. Jungwon eats his melon ice cream and comments on the weather and points out a funny-shaped cloud, and you walk beside him in a daze, your mind spinning with questions you're too afraid to ask.

*What was that back there?*

*What did you mean by "mine"?*

*Do you want me the way I want you, or was that just some weird protective instinct that you're going to laugh off later and pretend never happened?*

But you don't ask. Because you're scared of the answers. Because if he laughs it off, if he says it was nothing, if he goes back to being the same platonic Jungwon he's always been, you don't think you can handle that.  So you walk in silence, and you eat your strawberry ice cream, and you try very hard not to think about the way his fingers felt in your hair.

The invitation comes on a Thursday, delivered via text message with the casual energy of someone suggesting what to have for lunch.

**Jungwon:** *lake tomorrow? picnic? there's that spot we used to go to as kids. i'll pack food.*

You stare at the message for approximately five minutes. The spot he's talking about is a small, secluded clearing by the lake about twenty minutes outside of town—a hidden gem that you'd discovered together when you were kids. You'd spent entire summers there, swimming until your fingers pruned, eating sandwiches that got slightly soggy from the cooler, lying on the grass and making up stories about the shapes in the clouds.

It's also, objectively, one of the most romantic places in existence. Secluded. Quiet. Surrounded by trees and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. If you were a romance novel protagonist, this would be the chapter where the love interest makes his move.

But you're not a romance novel protagonist.

This is a terrible idea. You should say no.

**You:** *sure. what time?*

The next morning Jungwon picks you up at ten, his car already packed with a cooler, a picnic blanket, and two towels that he definitely stole from his mom's linen closet.

"Ready for adventure?" he asks, holding the passenger door open with an exaggerated flourish.

"Ready for a twenty-minute drive to a lake we've been to literally a hundred times?"

"Every time is a new adventure."

"I’m already tired of you speaking."

"It’s just the beginning."

You roll your eyes and climb into the car, and he closes the door behind you with a satisfied grin. You roll down the window, letting the warm air whip through your hair, and for a moment, everything feels simple. Easy. Like it used to be before your feelings got tangled up in everything. And then Jungwon connects his phone to the car speaker, and a familiar song starts playing.

Lost Island - Enhypen now playing

"Oh my god," you say, recognizing the opening notes. "Is this-"

"Lost Island," he confirms, his grin widening. "Don't pretend you don't know every word."

"I don't know every word."

"You definitely know every word. You made me watch the colour coded lyrics when it came out."

"That was just to see the translation.."

"What about when you made me look at the concept photoshoot of the album?"

"It was for art purposes. I was studying the different concepts."

"You were studying Ni-ki’s pictures for the Afterlight version (iykyk), yeah?"

"Those pictures are a cultural reset."

He laughs, and the sound fills the car, and then he's singing along, loud and off-key and you can't help but join in. You've known this song since it came out. You've listened to it on late-night study sessions, on walks across campus, on the bus ride home from college. You know every lyric, every beat, every ad-lib. And singing it with Jungwon, your voices clashing and harmonizing in all the wrong ways, feels like coming home.

"AND NOTHING’S MORE PRECIOUS THAN TIME? THAN TIME WITH YOU!" he belts, completely butchering the song.

"That's not even close to the right key!"

"It's the right key in my heart!"

"Your heart is tone-deaf!"

The banter carries you the rest of the way to the lake, the familiar landscape scrolling past your window like a slideshow of your childhood. 

"It's exactly the same," you breathe, stepping out of the car.

"Some things don't change," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something almost wistful that makes you glance at him. But he's already turning away, pulling the cooler out of the trunk, his expression back to its usual cheerful neutrality.

Jungwon spreads the blanket on a flat patch of grass near the water's edge, weighting down the corners with rocks so it doesn't blow away in the breeze. He unpacks the cooler very carefully, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a container of cut fruit, two bottles of lemonade, a bag of chips, and a small box of the cookies you used to beg your mom to buy when you were little.

"You remembered the cookies," you say, and your voice comes out more surprised than you intended.

"Of course I remembered. They're your favorite." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like remembering your favorite childhood cookies is just something people do. "I also brought the chips you like, even though you always eat the entire bag and then complain that you feel sick."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I will push you into the lake."

"You can try."

After lunch, Jungwon leans back on his elbows, tilting his face toward the sun. "We should swim."

"We didn't bring swimsuits."

"So?"

"So I'm not swimming in my clothes."

"Who said anything about clothes?" He grins at the look on your face. "Kidding. Kind of. You can swim in your t-shirt and underwear. It's basically the same as a swimsuit."

"Underwear is not the same as a swimsuit."

"It's fabric. You wear it. You get wet. Same concept."

"The concept is not the same. There's-" You stop, because he's already pulling his shirt over his head, and the sight of his bare torso short-circuits your brain.

You've seen Jungwon without a shirt before. Plenty of times. Swimming as kids, running through sprinklers, that one disastrous summer when he decided to try to get a six-pack and made you do crunches with him in his backyard. But this is different. He's different. The lean muscle of his shoulders, the planes of his chest, the way his stomach tightens as he tosses the shirt onto the blanket, it's all very, very different.

"See something you like?" he asks, and his tone is teasing, light, completely unaware of the chaos happening inside your brain.

"Just trying to figure out where your tan line starts," you say, your voice blessedly steady. "It's very uneven."

He laughs and wades into the water, his back to you, and you take the opportunity to have a small, internal meltdown. If he doesn't see you as a romantic prospect, then what does it matter if you're in your underwear? It's not like he's going to look at you differently. It's not like anything is going to change.

"Fine," you say, standing up. "But if I get hypothermia, you're explaining it to my mom."

"You're not going to get hypothermia. It's like eighty degrees."

You pull your shirt over your head, shimmy out of your shorts, and are left standing in your underwear, a simple black set that you definitely didn't choose this morning with the vague, subconscious hope that someone might see it. That would be ridiculous.

Jungwon glances back at you, and for just a second, just a fraction of a heartbeat, his eyes flicker down your body. But then he's looking away, splashing into the deeper water, his voice carrying over the lake. "Hurry up! The water's perfect!"

You wade in after him, and the water is cold enough to make you gasp. You push through the discomfort and dive forward, submerging yourself completely, and when you surface, your hair is plastered to your face and you're laughing.

"See?" Jungwon says, swimming toward you. "Not hypothermia."

"Ask me again in ten minutes."

"You'll be fine. You're tough."

You float on your back, staring up at the sky, and Jungwon floats beside you, and for a while, neither of you speaks. It's peaceful. Quiet. The kind of moment you'd want to bottle and keep forever.

And then Jungwon ruins it. "Remember when we used to do this as kids?" he says, his voice dreamy. "You were so small I could carry you around the whole lake."

"I was not that small."

"You were tiny. I could pick you up with one arm."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"It's not a lie. I'll prove it."

Before you can protest, he's moving toward you through the water, his hands finding your waist. You barely have time to yelp before he lifts you, actually *lifts* you, like you weigh nothing and suddenly you're dangling in the water with his hands under your arms, your face level with his.

"See?" he says, and his grin is insufferable. "Still got it."

"That's not, you're using both hands-"

"Details."

The position is ridiculous. You're basically suspended in the water, your legs floating uselessly behind you, his hands wedged firmly under your armpits. But his fingers, his fingers are pressing into the sides of your chest, dangerously close to-

Oh god.

His thumbs are brushing against the curve of your breasts.

You freeze. Every muscle in your body goes rigid. Your face, which was already flushed from the sun, goes approximately forty shades redder. Jungwon doesn't seem to notice, he's still grinning, still holding you up, his fingers still in that exact same position.

"You're so light," he's saying. "Have you been eating enough? Your mom was right, you're like a-"

You don't let him finish. You thrash in his grip, twisting out of his hands with a splash that sends water cascading over both of you. When you surface, gasping, you use the momentum to push a wave directly into his face.

"What was that for?!" he splutters, wiping water from his eyes.

"You were being annoying!"

"I was being helpful!"

"Your hands were-" You stop. You cannot say your hands were on my boobs. You absolutely cannot say that. "You were in my personal space!"

"That's what happens when you carry someone! There's personal space involved!"

"Not that much personal space!"

"You're so weird." But he's laughing, and the moment passes, and he's swimming away from you toward the deeper part of the lake, completely oblivious to the cardiac event he just caused.

You float there for a moment, your heart hammering, your skin tingling everywhere his fingers had touched. He didn't notice. Of course he didn't notice. He was just being Jungwon, playful and physical and completely unaware of the effect he has on you. To him, it was just another childhood game. Just another memory in the long highlight reel of your friendship.

But to you? To you, it was everything.

You take a deep breath and dive underwater, letting the cold silence swallow you whole. When you surface again, you've composed yourself. Your face is still flushed, but you can blame it on the sun. Your heart is still racing, but you can blame it on the swimming.

"You okay over there?" Jungwon calls from the deeper water. "You look like you're thinking too hard."

"I'm always thinking too hard."

"What about?"

About you. About your hands. About the way you said "mine" in the convenience store and then never mentioned it again. About how I'm trying so hard to move on and you keep doing things that make it impossible.

"About how I'm going to get revenge," you say instead, and you launch yourself toward him with a war cry that echoes across the lake.

The splash fight that follows is epic. Water goes everywhere. You end up with lake water in your sinuses and a piece of algae in your hair. Jungwon laughs so hard he accidentally inhales water and spends a full minute coughing on the shore. When you finally drag yourselves out of the lake, shivering and dripping and exhausted, you collapse onto the picnic blanket side by side, staring up at the sky.

The sun is starting its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Your clothes are spread out on the grass, drying in the warm air, and you're lying in your underwear on a picnic blanket next to your childhood best friend, and somehow it doesn't feel awkward. It feels natural. Easy. Like this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

But as the sky darkens and the first stars appear, you remind yourself: this isn't a romance novel. He doesn't see you that way. And you're trying to move on.

You just wish moving on didn't feel so much like falling.

You're both still damp from the lake, a pleasant chill raising goosebumps on your skin. Jungwon notices you shivering slightly as you sit on the picnic blanket, pulling your knees to your chest.

"You're cold," he says, stating the obvious as he stands up. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."

Before you can protest, he's already pulling you to your feet, his hand warm and firm around yours. He leads you toward a large, flat rock at the edge of the clearing that has been baking in the afternoon sun. It radiates a gentle heat against your bare legs as he positions you to sit on its edge.

But he doesn't sit beside you. Instead, he positions himself directly in front of you, between your legs, his body creating a shield against the evening breeze. The proximity is intoxicating, his bare torso just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that you could lean forward and press your lips against his if you were brave enough, or stupid enough.

"You need a break," he says, his voice lower than it was moments before, his eyes fixed on yours. "After that epic defeat in the water."

"I didn't lose," you retort, but your voice lacks its usual conviction. You're too aware of his hands as they come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, deliberate circles. "It was clearly a tie."

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt," he replies, a small smirk playing on his lips. But his eyes... his eyes are serious, intense, focused on yours with an unwavering gaze that makes your breath catch.

You try to ignore the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his touch sends jolts of electricity through your entire body. You try to focus on the lake, on the sunset, on anything other than the man standing between your legs, looking at you like you're the only person in the world.

But then his hands begin to move.

It's a slow, deliberate journey, his fingers tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your thighs. Higher and higher they go, until they reach the inner curve of your legs. Your breath hitches, your muscles tensing as his fingers continue their exploration, inching ever closer to your most intimate place.

His hands reach the apex of your thighs, his fingers curling around the curve where your legs meet your hips. And then, oh god, his thumb slides inward, the tip of it brushing against the edge of your panties, touching the place where your folds begin through the thin fabric.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, your hips shifting involuntarily. The touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to his touch with an eagerness that betrays your attempts at nonchalance.

Jungwon's eyes darken, his thumb pressing slightly more firmly against you, a silent acknowledgment of your reaction. The air between you grows thick with tension, charged with unspoken desire. You lean in slightly, your lips parting, your entire being focused on the man before you and the hand that's doing unspeakable things to your composure.

And then he pulls away.

Just like that. As if nothing had happened. "We should probably get back to the blanket," he says, his voice completely normal. "I think there are still some cookies left."

You stare at him, your mind reeling, your body still humming with unfulfilled desire. Is he doing this on purpose? Is this some kind of game to him, a way to provoke you, to test your reactions? Or is he really so clueless that he doesn't realize what he's doing to you, doesn't understand the effect his casual touches have on your body, your mind, your heart?

You slide off the rock, your legs feeling shaky beneath you as you follow him back to the picnic blanket. As you dress, you watch him out of the corner of your eye, searching for some sign, some indication of what's going on in that head of his. But he's whistling softly, sorting through the remnants of your picnic, completely at ease.

And you're left wondering, as you have so many times before, whether the tension between you is real or just another product of your overactive imagination.Or whether, just maybe, he's as confused about this as you are.

Jungwon is lying beside you, propped up on one elbow, his hair still wet and curling slightly at the ends. He's got a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through something with casual ease. His phone buzzes, cutting through your thoughts. Jungwon glances at the screen, and his face breaks into a grin.

"Oh, it's Heeseung," he says, already accepting the video call. "I told him I was at the lake. He said he didn't believe me."

Heeseung. The name is familiar, Jungwon's best friend from college, the one he's mentioned a few times in passing. You've never met him, but you've heard enough stories to piece together a rough picture.

"Jungwon!" A voice crackles through the phone speaker, and Jungwon angles the screen so you can see. The guy on the other end is exactly as advertised, sharp jawline, dark eyes, the kind of face that probably breaks hearts without even trying. He's sitting somewhere indoors, a window behind him letting in soft afternoon light. "You actually went to the lake? I thought you were lying."

"Why would I lie about going to a lake?"

"I don't know. To seem more interesting than you actually are?"

"I'm very interesting."

"You read philosophy books for fun. That's not interesting. That's a cry for help."

You snort, and Heeseung's attention immediately snaps to you. "Who's that? Is someone else there?"

"This is Y/N," Jungwon says, tilting the phone toward you. "My childhood best friend. The one I've told you about."

You wave awkwardly at the camera. "Hi. I'm the one who didn't pour coffee on her own head."

Heeseung laughs, and it's a genuine, surprised laugh. "I like her already. She's got better instincts than me."

"Everyone has better instincts than you," Jungwon says. "You're famously bad at decisions."

"I'm famously bad at some decisions. I'm very good at other ones." Heeseung shifts, and in the background of his video, you catch a glimpse of movement. Someone else is in the room with him, a girl, sitting at a desk, her face partially obscured by a laptop screen. She's got headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever she's doing, and there's a colorful highlighter tucked behind her ear.

"Oh, is that-" Jungwon starts, and something in his voice changes. It's subtle, a slight softening, a slight hesitation, but you notice it immediately. You've spent too many years cataloging every nuance of his expressions not to notice.

"Yeah, that's her," Heeseung says, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. "She's studying. Again. I told her it's summer break, but she said, and I quote, the mitochondria doesn't take vacations."

"That sounds like her," Jungwon says, and there's that tone again. That soft, almost wistful tone that makes your stomach clench.

The girl in the background looks up, as if sensing she's being discussed, and Heeseung waves her over. She removes her headphones with a slightly confused expression, and then she's walking toward the camera, and you get your first clear look at her.

She's pretty. Really pretty, in a natural, unassuming way. Round glasses perched on her nose, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing an oversized sweater that looks like it's been through several all-night study sessions. There's something about her expression, a little nervous, a little awkward, but also warm and genuine, that makes you understand immediately why someone might fall for her.

"This is Y/N," Heeseung says to her, gesturing at the phone. "Jungwon's friend."

"Hi, Y/N," the girl says, leaning into the frame. Her smile is slightly shy but sincere. "I've heard a lot about you. Jungwon talks about you all the time."

"All good things, I hope?"

"Mostly good things. He mentioned something about a treehouse incident?"

"I'm not taking responsibility for that. That was entirely his fault."

"It was not entirely my fault," Jungwon protests. "You were the one who wanted to add a second story."

"Because you said you wanted a better view of the stars."

"I was being romantic!"

"You were being delusional. The tree couldn't even support one story, let alone two."

The girl laughs, and Heeseung looks at her with an expression so openly, unguardedly fond that it makes something twist in your chest. That's love. That's real, undeniable, completely transparent love. The kind of love that doesn't hide or apologize or pretend to be something else.

"We should let you guys get back to your picnic," Heeseung says. "I just wanted to confirm that the lake does, in fact, exist."

"Confirmed," Jungwon says. "It's still here. Still wet. Still full of fish."

"Excellent. Very informative." Heeseung grins. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't leave much."

"Exactly."

The call ends, and the screen goes dark. Jungwon sets his phone down on the blanket and reaches for another cookie, completely oblivious to the storm that's just started brewing in your chest.

That's her. The girl from the philosophy elective. The one Jungwon had a crush on for months. The one he talked about in your kitchen with that soft, distant look in his eyes. The one who ended up with his best friend instead of him. And she's... nice. She seems nice. Genuinely nice, not fake nice, not trying-too-hard nice. The kind of nice that makes it impossible to hate her, even though a small, petty part of you really wants to.

"Jungwon?" you say.

"Hmm?"

"That was her, wasn't it? The girl you liked."

He pauses mid-chew, and for a moment, something flickers across his face, surprise, maybe, or the ghost of an old wound. But then it's gone, replaced by a smile that's a little too casual to be entirely genuine.

"Yeah. That was her."

"She seems nice."

"She is." He swallows the cookie and stares out at the lake, his expression unreadable. "She's really nice. She and Heeseung are good together."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'm okay with that." He says it firmly, like he's practiced the words. Like he's said them to himself enough times that they've started to feel true. "It took a while, but... yeah. I'm okay with it. They make each other happy. That's what matters."

You don't know what to say to that. There's a heaviness in his voice that he's trying to hide, and you know him well enough to recognize it. He's not lying, he really is okay with it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still sting. That doesn't mean he doesn't still think about it sometimes, late at night, when the world is quiet and the what-ifs creep in.

"I'm going to take a nap," Jungwon announces, stretching out on the blanket and pillowing his head on his arms. "The sun and the swimming made me tired."

"Okay."

"You should nap too. You look tired."

"I look radiant."

"You look radiantly tired."

"That's not a thing."

"It's a thing now. I invented it." He closes his eyes, and within minutes, his breathing evens out. He's asleep. Just like that. 

You sit there for a while, watching him sleep.

We can't be friends - Ariana Grande now playing

It's strange, seeing him like this. Unguarded. Vulnerable. The tension that he carries in his shoulders has melted away, and his face is relaxed in a way it rarely is when he's awake.

Your eyes trace the familiar lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the sweep of his eyelashes. You know every inch of this face. You've memorized it over fifteen years of glances and gazes and stolen looks. But there's something different about looking at him now. Something heavier. Something that sits in your chest like a stone.

So that's he*, you think. That's the girl who had his heart.

And she's lovely. She's genuinely, painfully lovely. You saw it in the way she smiled, in the way she looked at Heeseung, in the way she clearly has no idea that she was once the center of someone else's entire world. She probably doesn't even know. She probably went about her life, completely unaware that Jungwon spent months pining over her, working up the courage to say something, only to lose his chance because he waited too long.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He waited too long. He liked her and he didn't say anything, and by the time he was ready, it was too late. Someone else had already stepped in. Someone bolder, someone braver, someone who didn't wait.

But he's not like that anymore. You've seen the change in him. The confidence. The ease. The way he carries himself like someone who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to go after it. He told you himself, after that whole situation, he decided to stop waiting. To start living. To explore his youth and put himself out there and not let opportunities pass him by.

She did that. That girl, with her round glasses and her messy ponytail and her complete, oblivious unawareness of the effect she had on him, she changed him. She's the reason he started hooking up with people in college. She's the reason he bought condoms and learned how to kiss properly and became the kind of person who presses other people against freezers and claims ownership of their hair.

You should be grateful to her. In a weird, twisted way, she's the reason Jungwon is who he is now, more confident, more assertive, more willing to go after what he wants. But all you feel is a hot, jealous knot in your stomach that you can't seem to untangle.

What does she have that you don't?

The thought surfaces before you can stop it, ugly and uninvited. You push it down, but it keeps rising back up, persistent and sharp.

What does she have that you don't? You've known Jungwon your entire life. You've been there for every scraped knee, every broken bone, every triumph and every failure. You know the exact way he takes his coffee and the name of every pet he's ever had and the song he listens to when he's sad. You've seen him at his worst and at his best, and you've loved every version of him.

And yet. And yet.

When he talks about her, there's still a softness in his voice. When he looked at her on that video call, there was still a flicker of something, not longing, exactly, but memory. The ghost of a feeling that was once very real. And you've never had that. You've never been the person Jungwon looked at like that. You've never been the person he pined over, the person he wrote letters to, the person he stayed up late thinking about.

You're just Y/N. His childhood best friend. The person he carries around in the lake and ruffles the hair of and tells all his secrets to, but never, ever looks at the way you want him to.

"It's not fair," you whisper, and your voice is so quiet it barely disturbs the air. "What does she have that I don't?"

The question hangs there, unanswered, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You look down at Jungwon, still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the turmoil churning inside you. His lips are slightly parted. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. There's a piece of cookie crumb on his chin that he missed when he wiped his mouth earlier.

You reach out and brush it away, your fingers lingering against his skin for just a moment longer than necessary.

"I've been here the whole time," you murmur. "I've always been here."

He doesn't stir. He doesn't hear you. Maybe that's for the best.

You lean down, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft. Barely there. The kind of kiss that could be dismissed as friendly if anyone saw, but is secretly, desperately not. Your lips brush against the warmth of his skin, and you close your eyes, and for just one moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he woke up and looked at you the way Heeseung looked at that girl. Like you were the center of his universe. Like you were the reason he existed.

But he doesn't wake up. And the moment passes.

You pull back, your heart aching, and you lie down beside him on the blanket. The sun is still warm, and the breeze is still gentle, and the lake is still lapping against the shore. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.

You close your eyes, and you let sleep take you, and the last thing you feel before you drift off is the warmth of his body next to yours, close, but not close enough. Always, always, not close enough.

You wake up to the gentle hum of an engine and the soft pressure of something warm draped over your body.

It takes you a moment to orient yourself. You're not on the picnic blanket anymore. You're not by the lake. You're in a car, Jungwon's car, you recognize the air freshener and the one-eyed bear in the backseat, and someone has covered you with a jacket. Your jacket. The one you'd left in the backseat this morning.

Outside the window, your house is silhouetted against the dusky evening sky. The porch light is on. Your mom's car is in the driveway. Everything is exactly as you left it this morning, and yet nothing feels the same.

You push yourself upright, blinking sleep from your eyes, and that's when you notice Jungwon. He's not in the driver's seat. He's outside the car, leaning against the hood with his arms crossed, staring up at the sky. The first stars are starting to appear, and his profile is illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. He looks pensive. Distant. Like he's been standing there for a while, lost in thoughts he doesn't want to share.

You open the car door, and the sound makes him turn. His expression shifts immediately, the pensiveness replaced by that familiar, warm smile. But there's something tired about it tonight. Something that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he says. "You were out cold. I didn't want to wake you."

"You carried me to the car?"

"You were dead weight. It wasn't that hard."

"I'm average height."

"You're fun-sized."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. You're too busy processing the fact that he carried you from the lake to the car. That he wrapped you in your jacket and drove you home and then waited outside, in the cooling evening air, just so you could sleep a little longer.

"Thank you," you say, and your voice comes out softer than you intended. "For today. For... all of it."

"It was nothing." He shrugs, but his smile is genuine. "I had fun. It was like old times."

Old times. Right. Because that's what this was to him. Just another memory in the long, unbroken chain of your friendship. Nothing more.

He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, the same casual, affectionate touch that used to feel so natural and now feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Get some rest," he says, already turning toward the driver's side. "I'll see you tomor-"

"Wait."

The word escapes before you can stop it. He pauses, his hand on the car door, his head tilted in confusion.

"What's up?"

Your heart is pounding. Your palms are sweating. Every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to let him go, to swallow your feelings, to keep pretending that everything is fine. But you're tired of pretending. You're tired of hiding. You're tired of watching him walk away and wondering what would happen if you just said the words you've been holding back for weeks.

"I need to tell you something," you say, and your voice is steadier than you feel. "And I need you to let me finish before you say anything. Can you do that?"

Jungwon's expression flickers, confusion, concern, something else you can't quite name. But he nods. "Okay. I'm listening."

You take a deep breath. The evening air is cool against your flushed cheeks. The streetlamp buzzes softly overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. The world keeps turning, oblivious to the fact that you're about to upend everything.

Earrings - Malcolm Todd now playing

"I like you," you say.

The words hang in the air between you.

"I don't mean like a friend. I don't mean like a brother. I mean... I like you. I have feelings for you. And I've been trying to ignore them, and I've been trying to move on, and I've been telling myself that you don't see me that way and I should just accept it, but I can't. Not anymore. Not after everything that's happened."

Jungwon is completely still. His hand has dropped from the car door. His face is unreadable.

"I know you probably don't feel the same way," you continue, the words tumbling out faster now, a dam that's finally broken. "And that's fine. That's... I mean, it's not fine, but I'll deal with it. I just couldn't keep pretending. I couldn't keep acting like everything was normal when it's not. Not for me."

The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity. When Jungwon finally speaks, his voice is careful. Measured. Like he's choosing every word with deliberate precision.

"Y/N... I think you're confused."

"I'm not confused."

"You've been through a lot lately. The stress of college, being back home, all the changes, it's natural to latch onto familiar feelings and mistake them for something else. But what you're feeling isn't-"

"Don't." Your voice comes out sharper than you intended. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling. I know what I feel. I've known for weeks. Maybe longer. Maybe I've known for years and I just didn't have the words for it until now."

"Y/N-"

"I like you, Jungwon. I want to be with you. Not as your childhood friend. Not as your sister figure. As a woman who wants to be with a man. That's what this is."

He flinches. Actually flinches, like the words have physically struck him. "You don't mean that."

"I do mean it. I've never meant anything more in my life."

"You can't-" He stops, runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that you've seen a thousand times. "You can't just say that. You can't just drop that on me and expect-"

"Expect what? For you to feel the same way? I already told you, I know you probably don't. But I had to say it. I had to be honest with you, because that's what we've always been. Honest. And I've been lying to you for weeks, and I couldn't do it anymore."

Jungwon is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost pained. "I can't return your feelings."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew they were coming. You prepared for them. But knowing and hearing are two different things, and the sound of them, the finality of them knocks the breath from your lungs.

"I don't see you that way," he continues. "I've never seen you that way. You're my best friend. You're the most important person in my life. But I can't...I don't-"

"You don't see me as a woman."

"I see you as Y/N. My Y/N. The person who's been by my side since I was six years old. And I can't risk that. I can't risk us."

"Risk us?" You hear your voice rising, the hurt transforming into something hotter. Something angrier. "What about the mixed signals? What about the way you held me in the lake? What about the convenience store, when you told that guy not to touch my hair because it was yours? What was that, Jungwon? Was that just friendship too?"

His jaw tightens. "That was different."

"Different how?"

"That was... I don't know. Instinct. I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't thinking." You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Right. Of course. You never think. You just do things and say things and then pretend they don't mean anything. Just like the closet in high school. Just like my bedroom last week. Just like everything."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" You step closer to him, your eyes blazing. "Let me ask you something. Honestly. Do you still have feelings for her? That girl? The one from the video call?"

Jungwon blinks, clearly thrown by the shift in topic. "What? No. I told you, I'm over that. She's with Heeseung. They're happy. I'm happy for them."

"Then what is it? If you're over her, and you're out there hooking up with other people, then what's so different about me? Why can't you see me the way you see them? Am I not attractive enough? Am I not-"

"Stop." His voice is sharp, sharper than you've ever heard it. "Don't do that. Don't compare yourself to anyone else. This isn't about you not being enough. This is about-"

"About what?"

"About the fact that you're the only thing in my life that's ever been mine!" The words burst out of him like a dam breaking, and suddenly he's not the calm, measured Jungwon anymore. His eyes are bright, his hands shaking slightly at his sides. "Do you understand that? You're it. You're the one thing I've always had. When my parents were fighting, when school was hell, when I was sitting in my dorm room at college feeling like I didn't belong anywhere, I always had you. You were always there. And I can't lose that. I can't."

"So you'd rather keep me as a friend than risk having me as something more?"

"Yes." The word is quiet but firm. "Yes. Because if we tried and it didn't work...if we broke up, if we hurt each other...I wouldn't just lose a girlfriend. I'd lose everything. I'd lose my best friend. I'd lose the person who knows me better than anyone. I'd lose fifteen years of history and memories and-" His voice cracks. "I can't do that. I won't."

"You're a coward," you say, and your voice comes out quieter than you expected. Softer. Almost sad.

Jungwon flinches. "Y/N-"

"No. You are. You're a coward. You've always been a coward. You liked that girl for months and never said anything, and someone else got to her first. And now you're doing the same thing again. You're so scared of losing what we have that you won't even consider the possibility of something more." You swallow hard, the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "You said you changed. You said after that whole situation, you decided to stop waiting and start living. But you haven't changed at all. You're still the same guy who waits too long and lets things slip away because he's too scared to take a risk."

"Please," he says, and his voice is raw, desperate. "Please don't do this. We can still be friends. We can go back to how things were. Nothing has to change."

"I don't want to be friends!" The words tear out of you, loud and broken. "That's the whole point! I don't want to be your friend anymore! I want to be more! I want you to look at me the way you looked at her! I want you to touch me like you mean it and not pretend it was nothing afterward! I want to be the person you think about when you can't sleep at night! But I'm not! I'm never going to be! Because you won't let me!"

Tears are streaming down your face now, hot and unstoppable. You don't bother wiping them away.

"I have been here," you say, your voice cracking. "I have been here for fifteen years. I was here when you failed your first math test. I was here when you got your heart broken for the first time. I was here when you needed someone to talk to at 3 AM. And I've been here this whole summer, watching you, wanting you, and you didn't even notice. You never notice."

Jungwon's face crumples. "I notice," he whispers. "I notice everything about you. That's the problem."

"Then what is it?" You step closer, your chest tight with frustration and hurt and the desperate need to understand. "You've been giving me mixed signals since I got back. The way you look at me. The way you touch me. The convenience store. The lake. Carrying me around in the water with your hands all over me. What am I supposed to think?"

"I wasn't...I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to what? Lead me on? Make me think there was something there when there wasn't?"

Jungwon's face crumples, and for the first time in this conversation, he looks genuinely stricken. "I wasn't trying to lead you on. I was just... being myself. That's how I've always been with you."

"Maybe that's the problem." Your voice cracks, and you hate it. You hate that he's seeing you like this. "Maybe you've always been like this with me, and I've just been too blind to notice that it doesn't mean anything to you. But it means something to me. It means everything to me."

"Y/N..."

"You know what I hate the most?" You're crying, tears spilling down your cheeks, hot and uninvited. "I hate her. That girl from the video call. I hate her so much it makes me sick."

"That's not fair. She didn't do anything-"

"I know she didn't do anything! That's what makes it worse!" The words are pouring out of you now, unstoppable. "She didn't do anything except exist, and she still managed to change you. She's the reason you're like this now. She's the reason you decided to stop waiting and start living. She's the reason you bought condoms and hooked up with people and became this whole new version of yourself. And I...I've been here the whole time. I've been here for fifteen years, and I've never been able to make you look at me the way you looked at her."

"Y/N, please-"

"You've known her for what, a few months? And she got to have your heart. She got to be the one who changed you. And I've been here since we were kids, and I've never...I've never been anything more than your best friend.. The person you carry around and ruffle the hair of and tell all your secrets to, but never, ever look at the way I want you to."

The tears are falling faster now, and you can barely see his face through the blur. You wipe at your eyes furiously, angry at yourself for crying, angry at him for making you cry, angry at the whole stupid universe for putting you in this situation.

"I've always been here," you whisper. "I've always been yours. And you've never once seen me."

Jungwon's composure cracks. His eyes are wet, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he's trying very hard to hold himself together and failing. When he speaks, his voice is raw in a way you've never heard before.

"You asked what she had that you don't? Nothing. She had nothing that you don't. But she was safe. She was someone I could have a crush on from a distance and then let go when it didn't work out. But you...you're not safe. You're not distant. You're under my skin and in my bones and wrapped around every part of who I am. And if I let myself feel what I'm afraid I might feel for you, and it goes wrong..."

He stops, his voice breaking. A tear slips down his cheek, and he doesn't bother to wipe it away.

"I can't lose you," he says quietly. "I would rather have you as a friend for the rest of my life than risk losing you entirely."

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The street is quiet. The stars are starting to come out. And then you shake your head.

"We can figure this out. We can-"

"No. You don't get to have it both ways. You don't get to reject me and then ask me to stay exactly the same. That's not fair."

"Please." His voice cracks, and he reaches for your hand. "Please don't do this. You're too important to me. Our friendship is too important."

"Goodnight, Jungwon," you say.

"Y/N, wait-"

But you're already walking away. Already climbing the steps to your front porch. Already reaching for the door handle with hands that won't stop shaking.

You don't look back. You can't. If you look back, you'll break completely.

The front door closes behind you with a soft click, and you lean against it, pressing your palms to your face, and you let the tears come. All the tears you've been holding back for weeks. All the feelings you've been pretending not to have. They pour out of you in great, heaving sobs that shake your entire body.

You understand. God help you, you understand. He's scared. He's been scared his whole life, scared of losing people, scared of taking risks, scared of wanting something too much and having it slip through his fingers. He looks at you and sees everything he's afraid to lose, and instead of reaching for more, he's clinging to what he already has.

But understanding doesn't make it hurt less. Understanding doesn't fill the hollow ache in your chest or stop the tears from falling or make you forget the way his face looked when you walked away.

You don't know how long you sit there. The house stays quiet. The stars wheel overhead. And somewhere out there, on the street in front of your house, Jungwon is still standing by his car, staring at the door you just closed, hoping you'll come back out.

But you don't. And eventually, he leaves.

[tiramisunghoon]

PARK SUNGHOON FIC RECS

note my first post!! s- smut | f-fluff | a-angst

take off your glasses - s,f,a (wc- 38k)

╰┈➤ nerd!sunghoon x fem!reader

grocery store receipts - s,f,a (wc- 31.5k)

╰┈➤ hot neighbour!sunghoon x fem!reader

harvest of purity - s,f,a (wc- 29k)

╰┈➤ innocent!sunghoon x fem!reader

how i met sunghoon - s,a (wc- 28k)

╰┈➤ downbad!sunghoon x fem!reader

case close, open heart - s,f,a (wc- 26.4k)

╰┈➤ childhood bsf!sunghoon x fem!reader

inch by inch - s (wc- 23.6k)

╰┈➤ big dick!sunghoon x fem!reader

seoul city - s (wc- 23k)

╰┈➤ enemy!sunghoon x reader

real me, real you - f,a (wc- 22.9k)

╰┈➤ heartbreaker!sunghoon x fem!reader

stupid in love - s,f,a (wc- 22.1k)

╰┈➤ bestfriend!sunghoon x fem!reader

a girl's amateur guide to chemistry - s,f (wc- 22.1k)

╰┈➤ hockey captain!sunghoon x reader

king of tears - s,f,a (wc- 20k)

╰┈➤ arranged husband!sunghoon x reader

past life - s,a (wc- 20k)

╰┈➤ figure skater!sunghoon x fem!reader

honey on ice - s,f (wc- 18.4k)

╰┈➤ dilf!sunghoon x fem!reader

teacher's pet - s,f,a (wc- 17.8k)

professor!sunghoon x fem!reader

as it turns out, i got reincarnated into park sunghoon's gold digging fiance! - s,f,a (wc - 16k)

╰┈➤ ceo!sunghoon x fem!reader

do re mi - s,a (wc- 16k)

╰┈➤ manager!sunghoon x fem!reader

a reunion to remember - s,f (wc- 15.3k)

╰┈➤ former classmate!sunghoon x fem!reader

night shift - s (wc- 4.5k) day shift -s,a (wc -14.6k)

╰┈➤ boss/camboy!sunghoon x fem!reader

keep it down! - f (wc- 14k)

neighbour!sunghoon x fem!reader

sex for dummies - s,f,a (wc- 14k)

╰┈➤ academic rival!sunghoon x fem!reader

AITA? - s (wc- 13k)

╰┈➤ insufferable!sunghoon x menace fem!reader

cherry pits - s,f (wc- 12.9k)

╰┈➤ dilf!sunghoon x fem!reader

mall rat - s (wc- 10.2k)

╰┈➤ yandere entity!sunghoon x fem!reader

save a horse, ride a cowboy - s (wc- 10k)

╰┈➤ cowboy!sunghoon x fem!reader

girl, guess what? - s,a (wc- 10k)

╰┈➤ toxic!sunghoon x toxic!reader

heavenly - f,a (wc- 9.5k)

╰┈➤ playboy/ ex!sunghoon x fem!reader

mr. good guy - s (wc- 9.4k)

╰┈➤ cheater!sunghoon x sidechick!reader

first date etiquette - s (wc- 9.3k)

╰┈➤ neighbour!sunghoon x fem!reader

right next door - s,a (wc- 8.1k)

╰┈➤ enemy!sunghoon x fem!reader

two worlds - s,f,a (7.6k words) pt2 (wc- 14.3k)

╰┈➤ bestfriend!sunghoon x fem!reader

lovers in the night - s,f,a (wc- 6.4k)

╰┈➤ fuckboy!sunghoon x fem!reader

sweet inhibitions - s (wc- 6.4k)

╰┈➤ boss!sunghoon x fem!reader

forbidden attraction - s (wc -)

╰┈➤ hogwarts wizard!sunghoon x witch!reader

spring snow - f,a (wc- )

╰┈➤ ex husband!sunghoon x fem!reader

momentum - f,a (wc- 4.6k)

╰┈➤ figure skater!sunghoon x figure skater!reader

when you miss me - s,a (wc- 4.5k)

╰┈➤ ex!sunghoon x fem!reader

birthday twins - f (wc- 4.4k)

╰┈➤ frenemy!sunghoon x fem!reader

stuffed & dizzy - s (wc- )

╰┈➤ bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

soft spot - f (wc- 2.7k)

╰┈➤ bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

tastes like sugar - s (wc- )

╰┈➤ bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

a kiss is a sex pt2 - s (wc- )

╰┈➤ kiss obsessed!sunghoon x fem!reader-

meddle about - s (wc- 1.6k)

╰┈➤ stranger!sunghoon x fem!reader

mr & mrs president - f (wc- 1.5k)

╰┈➤ frenemy!sunghoon x fem!reader

you can be the boss - f (wc- 1.4k)

╰┈➤ ceo!sunghoon x fem!reader

take the hint! - s (wc - 1.3k)

╰┈➤ downbad!sunghoon x oblivious!reader

fatal trouble - s (wc- 1.3k)

╰┈➤ situationship!sunghoon x fem!reader

[matzism]

SKIN2SKIN .ᐟ

product details: in which heeseung is desperate and needy for a release and you’re the perfect solution to that

warning labels. . . explicit content (mdni), lowkey sub!hee, unprotected sex (be smart), riding, praise, begging, creampie.

featured employees: needy!hee x fem!reader | custom order 📋

staff notes: might have to start selling ass to get tickets to aespa’s concert… i refuse to miss out bro (or get a job like a normal person)

heeseung had a problem.

he’d been aching for hours, the tent in his pants practically begging to be let out and satisfied. he hooked a finger around his waistband, hiking down his shorts, letting his length spring free.

his dick laid stiff against his stomach, flushed and leaking onto his skin. hee wrapped his hand around himself and stroked fast, twisting his hand at the head like he usually did. but still, the friction wasn’t enough and it was only making his frustration worse.

he groaned, thighs trembling and reached out, opening his drawer. he pulled out the flimsy silicone toy riki had bought him for his birthday as a joke. he’d never used it once and wasn’t planning to—until now.

he slid the toy onto his dick and lifted his hips, desperately fucking into the perfectly tight sleeve. broken moans slipped from his lips as his thrusts grew more frantic.

nothing.

he felt the heat coil low in his stomach, the way his ball drew up tightly—how he was right there. all that for the sensation to fall short and shy, giving him nothing. he threw the toy onto the ground and collapsed back into the pillows, his dick twitching and frustrated.

"hee?" you stepped inside, not bothering to knock. your head down, looking through the mail riki had asked you to give heeseung. “when did you guys sign up—”

you lifted your head, eyes taking in the sight: sheets scrunched, hee’s legs spread, chest heaving, dick flushed and untouched. heeseung didn’t even try to cover himself or give an explanation.

“please—” he breathed, giving you that pleading look. “i-i can’t—nothing’s working. please—”

he was fully aware how desperate he sounded and how absurd the request was. but that’s what he was. desperate.

in a matter of seconds, the door shut with a soft click and you crawled into the bed and straddled him, hands steadily on either side his shoulders. you didn’t need a reason, seeing him like this was enough.

you didn’t waste any time, lips crashing into his, while his hands fumbled with your shirt, immediately dragging off your shorts.

“god, i needed this. needed you,” he gasped into your mouth.

you lifted your hips, lining his dick up with your entrance before sinking onto him in one motion. you could feel every twitch. him pulsing inside you, a leaking mess and you hadn’t even moved yet.

you rolled your hips, slowly, letting his dick drag across your soaked walls. each grind pressed him deeper, his sensitive head hitting that spot that made your thighs clench and toes curl.

“fuck, harder— need this… need to feel you,” he babbled, hands sliding up your hips, fingers leaving marks against your skin.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, grinding down hard, making sure to take every inch of him. at this point you’re no longer rolling your hips, but bouncing on it, teasing him every time you pulled to the tip. and every time you slammed down, he squirmed, choking out moans—half of them barely audible.

"you're doing so well," you praised, leaning in close, sliding your hands over his chest, dragging down to his stomach that clenched whenever you tightened around him. "staying so still while i use you."

his dick pulsed at the words, a quiet whimper slipping past his lips. his hands moved from clinging around you, to fisting the sheets, then back to your waist, hands crawling up your back. so whipped he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“gonna cum—” he warned, voice cracking, head buried in the crook of your neck. “please— please…”

your hips started to slow down, not completely, but just enough to keep him on edge. "you can do better than that. ask properly."

heeseung looked up at you, lips parted and eyes glassy. tears clung to his lashes, cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. he was beyond unraveled.

“please— f-fuck, please let me fill you up— ” he begged, his fingers trembling around your waist. “i’ll do anything… i need it—”

"go ahead. cum inside me," you murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

his whole body tensed as you tighten around him on purpose, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. a guttural moan tore from his throat, his jerking up into you, spilling everything he’d been holding inside of you.

you didn’t let up—still riding him through it, fingers tangled through his hair as you milked out every drop. it wasn’t until your orgasm washed over you and he was holding onto you tightly, a whimpering mess, thighs shaking did you begin to slow down.

"such a good boy," you pressed a kiss against his cheek, then his jaw, then his neck. the taste of his skin—a mix of something salty and warm filling your senses. he stayed inside you, his dick still twitching and leaking, refusing to pull out what felt like his only lifeline.

staff notes: love writing requests, they’re so fun actually — i did cringe while writing a certain part but it’s whatever :/

[404sheepnotfound]

OVERRULED- YJW

୨ৎ Summary : Jungwon is known as cheerful, playful younger boyfriend to you. He is always smiling, teasing, and affectionate. But no one knew his other side. Behind closed doors however, he reveals a far more commanding side, leading with confidence and control.

୨ৎ Pairing : youngerbf! Jungwon x oldergf! reader

୨ৎ Wordcount : 2.8k

୨ৎ Warning : porn without plot, explicit scene (well this is straightass porn i guess), harddom!Jungwon, sub!femreader, Consensual rough intimacy, orgasm control, creampie, unprotected sex (PLS PLS WRAP YOUR WILLY), belly bulge, doggy, abs riding, marking.

Everyone knew Jungwon as the cheerful one. The boyfriend who laughed too loudly at his own jokes, stole bites from your plate, and draped himself over your shoulders whenever he wanted attention.  Most people assumed he was the younger, clingier one in the relationship. They were only half right. The moment the apartment door clicked shut behind you, something shifted.

Jungwon leaned against the door, watching you with an expression that made your heart skip. Jungwon's cheerful laughter from dinner had barely faded from the air when his hand curled around your wrist. It’s not rough, but deliberate. His palm was warm as he tugged you toward the bedroom, his eyes losing that boyish glimmer, replaced by something darker and hungrier. 

“Strip.” 

He didn’t yell at you, but the tone he set for his voice was enough to make you obey him instantly.  Your fingers fumbled with the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, discarding it. Your bra followed, then your shorts, your panties. Each piece falling to the floor while he watched, unmoving, arms crossed, his jaw tight. When you stood fully naked before him, you felt his gaze drag over you like a physical touch, lingering on your breasts, the curve of your waist, the dampness already gathering between your thighs.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He simply tilted his head and said, “Now undress me. Use your mouth.”

Your heart hammered. You stepped forward on shaking legs, sinking to your knees in front of him. Your hands reached for his belt, but he caught your wrist.

“I said mouth. No hands. Open my jeans with your teeth.”

You hesitated, and his grip tightened.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, sir.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against the rough fabric of his jeans. Your teeth found the belt buckle, fumbling, tugging, your tongue working to loosen the leather. It took several tries, your cheeks flushing with heat and submission. He didn’t help. He just watched, breathing slow and deliberate, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Finally, the belt gave. You pulled it free with your teeth and let it fall to the floor with a clatter. Then you worked on the button. Your tongue pressing against the metal, your teeth pinching it open. The zipper was next, and you gripped the tab between your teeth, dragging it down slowly. Inch by inch. The sound was obscene in the quiet room.

When his jeans hung open, you looked up at him, waiting.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and the praise sent a pulse of heat through you. “Now pull them down.”

You ducked your head, biting onto the waistband of his jeans and boxers together, tugging downward. The fabric dragged across his thighs, his cock springing free. Already hard, and the tip glistening with precum. You worked the jeans down to his ankles, and then he stepped out of them, kicking them aside.

He stood over you, naked, towering, his erection jutting toward your face. His hand found your hair, gripping the roots, tilting your head back. 

“Kiss me. From my lips down.”

You rose on your knees, your lips meeting his in a rough, demanding kiss. He bit your lower lip, hard enough to sting, then pulled back. 

“Keep going.”

Your mouth trailed down his chin, his jaw, his throat. You kissed the hollow of his collarbone, the hard plane of his chest, your tongue tracing the ridges of his abdomen. He was taut, every muscle defined, and you felt him twitch beneath your lips as you traveled lower. His breathing grew heavier, his hand tightening in your hair. When you reached his navel, you paused, looking up at him through your lashes. His eyes were half lidded, dark with hunger.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered.

You lowered your mouth further, your lips brushing the coarse hair below his navel. Then your tongue flicked out, tracing the base of his cock. He inhaled sharply. You ran your tongue along the length, from root to tip, slow and deliberate, savoring the salt and heat.

He grips his cock and smacks your lips a few times.

“Open,” he commanded.

You parted your lips, and he guided himself inside, not gently. He pushed deep, hitting the back of your throat, and you gagged. But, he didn't pull out. He held you there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, his cock filling your throat.

“Breathe through your nose,” he said, voice strained. “Take it all.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you obeyed. Your throat relaxed, the muscles spasming around him. He groaned, low and guttural, and began to move, thrusting into your mouth, fucking your throat with a rhythm that was harsh and unforgiving.

“Look at me,” he growled.

Your eyes, wet and desperate, met his. The sight of you on your knees, mouth stuffed with his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks, made his hips snap harder. He was fully in control, using your mouth as he pleased, and you let him. Spit dripping down your chin, your nose running, every instinct screaming to pull away, but your submission held you still.

He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He grabbed your jaw, squeezing.

“You’re so fucking good,” he said, his thumb dragging across your wet lips. 

He put his back on the bed, completely sprawled. His gaze followed you. The moment you sit still in your position, his patience is running low. He clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. 

"Go on." He laces his hands behind his head, settling deeper into the pillows. The pose should look casual, but there's nothing relaxed about the way his eyes pin you in place. "Ride me. But no hands, no grinding. Just that pretty little pussy sliding up and down my abs until you come."

You swallow hard, heat flooding your cheeks. "Jungwon—" 

His eyebrows furrowed, not happy with your answer. 

“What did you call me?” 

The correction stung from the weight of his authority pressing down on you. You dropped your gaze, your voice smaller when you spoke. 

“I-i’m sorry Sir,” 

He didn't acknowledge the apology with words. He merely waited, his eyes boring into you, his hands still laced behind his head, muscles coiled and ready beneath that deceptively relaxed pose. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you realized he was waiting for action, not more words.

You moved, climbing onto the bed. You positioned yourself over his torso, your knees bracketing his hips. His abdomen was a landscape of hard ridges defined, warm, intimidating. The thought of sliding your bare, slick flesh across that surface without using your hands or grinding made your thighs tremble. You hovered, hesitant.

"Lower," he said, voice flat. "I want to feel you."

You began, lifting your hips until only your clit grazed his skin, then sinking back down.   You straddled him, thighs trembling as you hovered over his hard, sculpted midsection. His hands found your hips, guiding you down until your slick heat pressed against the ridges of his abdominal muscles. The contact sent a jolt through your core. 

"Hands behind your back," he ordered. "No touching me."

You obeyed, clasping your wrists together at the small of your back. The position arched your chest forward, pushed your hips out, and left you completely exposed and unbalanced. He watched, his jaw tight, a predatory stillness in his gaze.

"Now move. Up and down. Slow. I want to see every inch of that cunt slide over me."

You rolled your hips, grinding against his stomach, and the friction was maddening. His skin was warm, slightly damp, and the shift of muscles beneath you made your breath catch. Your hands braced on his chest, nails digging into his shoulders as you move slowly, undulating, and desperate. 

The sight of your glistening arousal coating his stomach made his cock twitch against his thigh. He didn't touch himself. He didn't need to. His pleasure came from watching you work for his approval.

"Faster."

Your pace increased, your breath coming in sharp bursts. Your thighs burned, your wrists ached, but you didn't stop. The sensation built low in your belly, a slow, desperate coil. Your juices smeared across his abs, leaving a wet, glistening trail.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Look at you. Making a mess of me. You love this, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," you gasped.

"Say it. Say what you're doing."

"I'm—I'm riding your abs, Sir—using your body to make myself come—"

"Good girl." His hands remained behind his head, but his hips shifted slightly, flexing the muscles beneath you, creating more friction. The way your clit shifted around his muscle, it sent the sensation all over your body. It was too much, your clit is swollen and begging for a break. 

"Please," you whimper. "Won, please, I'm so close—"

Jungwon smack your ass. The slap was echoing in your shared bedroom. The pain stings, it feels hot, and it left his handprint on your behind. He hissed. 

“Call me properly,” 

Tears welled in your eyes, “I-i’m sorry sir,”  

"You're not allowed to come yet." His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your waist, stopping your movement. You whine, the sound pathetic and desperate. "I didn't say you couldn’t." 

His grip on your waist tightened like iron, halting every desperate roll of your hips. The denial hit harder than the slap, leaving you trembling on the edge with no release in sight.  His palm smoothed over the heated print on your ass, fingers pressing just enough to remind you who controlled every sensation.

"Look at you," he continued, tone sharp with command. "Whimpering, dripping, begging with that pretty cunt. But you know the rules. Say it."

You swallowed, voice shaking. "I-I only come when you allow it, Sir."

A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. He shifted his hold, one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to arch your spine deeper. The new angle forced him even further inside, the pressure building again despite his order.

"Good. Now stay still and take it. I'm going to fuck you exactly how I want, and you're going to hold that orgasm until I tell you otherwise."

You obeyed, hips rocking harder, your clit dragging against the hard planes of his abdomen. The sensation built, a coil tightening low in your belly, and you gasped, moaning his name. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, pushing you harder.  Your movements grew sloppy, desperate. The orgasm was building, cresting, but you needed permission.

"Please, Sir—can I—"

"Come," he commanded.

The release crashed through you, your body convulsing, your inner walls clenching around nothing as your climax spilled onto his stomach, hot, wet, shameless. Your hips kept moving through the aftershocks, grinding despite his earlier rule, but he didn't correct you. He simply watched, his eyes dark with satisfaction, as you painted his abs with your pleasure.

When you finally stilled, trembling, breathless, he reached down and dragged a finger through the mess on his belly. He brought it to your lips.

"Clean it up."

You parted your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin as you sucked his finger clean. He withdrew, then grabbed your chin, pulling you down until your face hovered inches from his.

Jungwon chuckled, low and dark. "Good. Now on your hands and knees."

He was already moving, flipping you over with practiced ease. Your palms pressed into the sheets as he settled behind you, one hand gripping your hip, the other wrapping in your hair in a firm, possessive pull that tilted your head back.

"You're so beautiful when you obey." His voice was gravel, rough with restraint. "I'm going to fuck you now. You're going to take it. And you're going to cry for me."

The head of his cock pressed against your slick entrance, and he pushed inside without warning. He thrust his cock in a single, deep thrust that made you gasp, your back arching. He was thick, stretching you, filling you completely, and he didn't give you a moment to adjust. He started moving, hard and fast, each stroke driving the air from your lungs.

His hand tightened in your hair, yanking your head back, and you whimpered. 

"Please—"

"Please what?" He leaned over you, teeth grazing your shoulder before sinking in a sharp bite that made you cry out. His mouth latched onto the curve of your neck, sucking hard, marking you. You felt the sting bloom into a deep, possessive heat.

He pulled back, licking the bruise, then bit again, lower, on your shoulder blade. Another hickey. Another claim. His hips never slowed, driving into you relentlessly, and tears pricked at your eyes from the overwhelming intensity of being so completely owned.

"Look at you," he murmured against your skin, voice thick with satisfaction. "Crying on my cock.”

The pressure built again, deeper this time, coiling in your belly. Your legs trembled, your knuckles white against the sheets.

"I'm close," you sobbed.

"Not yet." He pulled out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, and before you could protest, he hauled you up. Your back hit his chest, his arm locked around your waist, and he positioned you standing, legs spread, bent slightly forward.

He drove into you, the new angle hitting spots that made your vision white. His hand found your throat as a reminder of control. His other hand pressed against your lower belly, and you could feel the outline of him through your skin, stretching you from the inside.

"Feel that? I'm everywhere inside you."

You can't hold yourself up anymore, you sag against him, letting him take your full weight, and he uses it, drives into you harder with every thrust. 

"Look at you." His voice is low, almost tender, but the words are razors wrapped in silk. "Can't even stand. Such a mess for me. I love it. I love how pathetic you get when I fuck you."

You want to answer, but your voice is gone. All you can do is take it, let him use your body the way he wants, feel the pleasure building again despite how raw you already are. Your legs shook, knees buckling, but he held you up, fucking you with brutal, relentless precision. Each thrust pushed him deeper, and your moans turned to broken cries. 

"Come for me," he commanded.  

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. The orgasm ripped through you, violent and consuming, and you felt yourself gush a hot, wet release that splattered down your thighs and dripped to the floor. Your legs gave out, but he caught you, lowering you gently to the bed.

But he didn't stop. He kept thrusting, shallow now, each movement pushing against your oversensitive core, making you whimper. His hand pressed harder on your bulging belly, stretched by his size and the mess you'd made.

"Look," he whispered, guiding your trembling hand to the swell. "That's all me. You're so full."

You cried freely now, a stream of tears and pleas and his name falling from your lips. He chuckled, a low, satisfied sound, as he finally stilled, buried deep inside you. He shoved deep one last time, groaning, and you felt him pulse inside you, hot and thick. He stayed there, buried, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against your spine.

When he finally pulled out, he watched his cum spill from you, pooling on the sheets. He gathered it on his fingers and pushed it back inside, pressing gently. Then he gathered you into his arms, pulling you against his chest, his breath warm against your hair.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, softer now, the edge fading. "You did so well."

You curled into him, spent and trembling, knowing that tomorrow he'd be all smiles and sunshine, and no one would know the power he held over you behind closed doors.

When he finally gathered you into his arms, the room felt impossibly quiet compared to everything that had happened before. The sharp edge that had been present in his voice was gone now. Jungwon pulled the blankets over both of you before settling back against the headboard, carefully guiding you against his chest. For several moments, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your uneven breathing and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. His fingers slowly combed through your hair.

Jungwon shifted slightly, pulling you closer.

"You okay?"

The question was quiet. You nodded against his chest.

"Words."

You sighed.

"Yes."

His hand squeezed your shoulder.

"Good."

Another kiss found your forehead.  Jungwon only tightened his arms around you. And as you listened to his breathing gradually slow, it became impossible to reconcile this version of him with the confident, commanding person only hours earlier.

No one would ever believe they were the same person. But you knew better. Because both versions were Jungwon. And somehow, you loved every side of him.

[kinkyhoon]

On the way - Yang Jungwon part 1

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jungwon x fem!reader Genre: college!au, summer love story, fluff, angst Synospsis: Bestfriends forever and nothing will ever make it change...well that's what you thought, but one summer (and an unrequited love) changed everything between the two of you. Maybe you never really saw him as your bestfriend all along... Warnings: dry humping, swearing, oral (both!rec), softdom!jungwon, make out (heavy), alcohol WC: 21k Note: The story takes place in the WGFT Heeseung ff universe and this time it's Jungwon's turn to get his time to shine!!!! Since y’all were so sad about him losing to Heeseung I wanted him to get his happy ending too!!! Hope you enjoy!!! Playlist: Apple Cider by Beabadoobee, Everytime by Ariana Grande, Lost Island by Enhypen, We can't be friends by Ariana Grande, Earrings by Malcolm Todd

You haven't been home in eight months, and somehow the air feels exactly the same as it did when you were seven years old. Some things don't change. Your family's house is exactly as you left it.

"Y/N IS HOME!" your younger brother screams. He barrels into you before you've even dropped your bags, and you stumble backward into the doorframe with an oomph that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

"Daniel, you're seventeen, not seven," you wheeze, patting his back with the one arm that isn't pinned to your side. "You're supposed to be too cool for this."

"Never too cool for my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister."

"That's why you're my favorite."

Your mother appears from the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour, her face breaking into a smile so wide it crinkles the corners of her eyes. She pulls you into a hug t, and for a moment you just stand there, letting yourself be held, letting the chaos of your family wash over you like water.

"You're too thin," she says, pulling back to examine your face. "Have you been eating? College students never eat."

"I eat, Mom."

"Lies. I can see your cheekbones. That's not natural." She pats your face firmly. "We're fixing this immediately. I made braised short ribs. And your grandmother sent over three kinds of kimchi."

The next hour is a blur of unpacking, being force-fed approximately seventeen side dishes, and deflecting increasingly pointed questions from your mother about whether you're "seeing anyone." You dodge the question with the practiced skill of someone who has been dodging it since high school, and eventually your mother gives up and redirects her energy toward making sure you eat a third helping of everything.

It's only when you're helping clear the table that she drops the bomb.

"Take some of the dumplings next door," she says, already packing a container. "The Yangs just got back yesterday. I'm sure Jungwon would love to see you."

Your hands freeze over the sink. "Jungwon's home?"

"The whole family. And Jungwon looks so grown up now. College has been good to him." She presses the container into your hands and gives you a look that brooks no argument. "Go. Say hello. You used to be inseparable, I'm sure he's been dying to catch up."

You and Jungwon. Inseparable. That's one word for it.

You've known Yang Jungwon since you were four years old, a solemn little boy with a bowl cut and a cute smile who had shown up at your family's barbecue with his parents and promptly shared his packet of strawberry Pocky with you without being asked. That was it. That was the beginning. From that moment on, you were a unit, a package deal, a two-for-one special, a matched set that no one bothered trying to separate.

Your childhood is a highlight reel of Jungwon moments. Jungwon teaching you how to ride a bike. Jungwon walking you to school every morning, even when his own school started earlier and he had to leave his friends to do it. Jungwon sneaking you extra snacks from his lunchbox because you always finished yours first.

You never had to explain yourself to Jungwon. He just knew. He knew that you needed silence sometimes, that your sarcasm was a defense mechanism, that you were terrified of thunderstorms but would rather die than admit it. He knew the exact moment you were about to cry (your left eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before the tears came). He knew you better than anyone, and you knew him just as well.

But then he left for college. And two years later, you left too. And the texts that had started out daily became weekly, then sporadic. The phone calls that had stretched for hours became minutes, then voicemails, then silence. You still sent each other memes sometimes, still liked each other's posts. But the closeness that had defined your entire existence had faded.

It's not anyone's fault. It's just what happens. People grow up, move away, build separate lives in separate cities. It's normal. It's fine. You're fine.

The doorbell chimes, a little melody that you remember from a thousand childhood visits. You hear footsteps inside, heavy and quick, and then the door swings open.

And you forget how to breathe.

Jungwon is standing in the doorway, and he is…he's…he's not the boy you remember.

The Jungwon in your memories is soft around the edges. Lanky limbs, round cheeks, the kind of face that made grandmothers pinch his cheeks. This Jungwon is wearing a tank top that is very, very see-through, because it's soaked with sweat. His hair is damp, pushed back from his forehead, and there's a towel slung around his neck that he's holding with one hand. His shoulders, when did he get shoulders? -are broad and defined. He's been working out. He's been working out, and the evidence is right there, and you are staring.

"Y/N?" His voice is deeper than you remember. He says your name like it's something precious, and his face breaks into that familiar smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the one you've known your whole life.

"Dang-" he starts, and then he's pulling you into a hug before you can react, his arms wrapping around you with an enthusiasm that makes the container press awkwardly between your bodies. He smells like sweat and fabric softener and something else, something warm and masculine. "You're home," he says into your hair. "You're actually home. When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago," you manage, your voice coming out relatively normal despite the fact that your face is currently pressed against a pectoral muscle. A pectoral muscle that belongs to Jungwon.

He pulls back, holding you at arm's length, and his eyes sweep over your face with an expression that's so purely, genuinely happy. "You look…you look amazing. Did you get taller?"

"I haven't grown since tenth grade."

"You look taller. It's the posture. You're standing like an adult now."

"Maybe because I’m an adult?"

He laughs. "Come in, come in," he says, stepping aside and gesturing you inside. "Mom's going to lose her mind when she sees you. She was just talking about you yesterday, she found that photo album from the summer we tried to build a treehouse ."

"Oh not the old pictures please."

"You know how nostalgic she can get."

"Y/N?! IS THAT Y/N?"

Mrs. Yang emerges from the kitchen, and within seconds you're enveloped in a hug. She's exactly the same as you remember, warm and effusive, with the same kind eyes that Jungwon inherited.

"Look at you!" she exclaims, pulling back to cup your face in her hands. "You're so beautiful! So grown up! Doesn't she look beautiful, Jungwon?"

"She looks beautiful," Jungwon agrees, and when you glance at him, his ears are slightly pink. Probably from the workout.

"Mom brought dumplings," you say, holding up the container. "She said you just got back yesterday and probably haven't had time to cook."

"That woman is an angel. Tell her we're having dinner together this weekend, no arguments, no excuses. I'm making bibimbap." Mrs. Yang takes the container and steps back toward the kitchen, already calling for her husband to come see who's at the door.

Mr. Yang appears a moment later, and the whole scene devolves into the kind of chaotic, overlapping welcome that you've experienced a hundred times before. Mrs. Yang starts pulling out photo albums. Mr. Yang asks about your classes and nods approvingly at your answers even though you're pretty sure he doesn't fully understand what your major entails.

And then the photo albums open, and the real embarrassment begins.

"Oh, this one!" Mrs. Yang crows, pointing at a photograph. "Look at you two! You must have been... what, six and eight? The school talent show!"

You lean in to look at the photo, and your soul briefly leaves your body.

"We were doing a skit about King Arthur," Jungwon says, his voice pained. "Y/N was Arthur. I was Lancelot."

The photos keep coming. Jungwon's first day of middle school, with you standing next to him on the front steps, your arm linked through his. A Halloween where you both dressed as characters from the same video game. A summer vacation at the beach where Jungwon got sunburned so badly he couldn't move for two days, and you sat beside him reading aloud from his favorite book until he fell asleep.

"I should probably head back," you say eventually, after the photo albums have been exhausted and Mrs. Yang has extracted a firm promise that you'll be at the family dinner this weekend. "Mom's probably wondering if I got kidnapped."

"I'll walk you out," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something slightly awkward, slightly hesitant, that makes your stomach flip.

He walks you to the front door. "Hey," Jungwon says, his hand on the doorframe. "You want to walk to the convenience store? Like old times? I could really go for one of those melon ice creams."

"Sure," you say, and your voice comes out more casual than you feel. "But only if you put on an actual shirt first. I'm not being seen in public with you looking like... that."

He glances down at his tank top, and his ears go pink again. "Right. Yeah. Give me two minutes."

He disappears back into the house, and you stand on the front porch, trying very hard not to think about the way his shoulders looked in that tank top. Or the way his voice has deepened. Or the way his arms felt when he hugged you.

This is Jungwon, you remind yourself firmly. Jungwon, who is basically your brother except not actually your brother but definitely the brother-adjacent figure you've known your entire life.Stop being weird.

He reappears two minutes later in a soft-looking t-shirt and jeans, and the two of you set off down the familiar path toward the convenience store. 

"How's school?" Jungwon asks, falling into step beside you. "Your mom said you're doing really well. Something about making the dean's list?"

"Dean's list, yeah. It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal. You're a genius."

"I'm a person who doesn't sleep enough and has spent more time studying than partying."

"That's what being a genius is."

You laugh and maybe this won't be so hard. Maybe you and Jungwon can just... slip back into the rhythm you always had. Best friends, nothing more, nothing less. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, at the way the fading sunlight catches the angles of his jaw, the way his sleeves stretch slightly over his biceps, the way his lips curve into that familiar half-smile. This is going to be a long summer.

Apple Cider - Beabadoobee now playing

The next few days are as you expected. Jungwon, as it turns out, is completely, infuriatingly, obliviously the same. Not the same as the Jungwon who left for college two years ago, no, he's different in ways that keep catching you off guard. The broader shoulders. The deeper voice. The way he moves now, with a quiet confidence that wasn't there before, like he's grown into his own skin. But the way he treats you? That hasn't changed at all. He's still the same protective, brotherly, endlessly thoughtful Jungwon who's been orbiting your life since before you could tie your own shoes.

And that's the problem.

On Tuesday, he shows up at your house at 9 AM with a toolbox and a determined expression. Your mother mentioned, in passing, at the barbecue planning session that had somehow materialized in your kitchen, that the hinge on the back door was sticking. Jungwon, being Jungwon, took this as a personal mission.

"You don't have to do that," you say, standing in the doorway with a mug of coffee clutched in your hands. You're still in your pajamas. Your hair looks like it's been through a tornado. You were not prepared for visitors.

"It'll take ten minutes," Jungwon says, already crouching down to examine the hinge. His t-shirt rides up slightly as he bends, revealing a strip of skin above his waistband, and you very deliberately look at the ceiling. "Your mom does so much for everyone. The least I can do is fix a door."

"You're a philosophy major, not a handyman."

"Undeclared, technically. And I've picked up some skills." He glances up at you, and his smile is so genuinely warm, so completely devoid of any awareness that he's currently making your morning extremely complicated, that you want to throw your coffee at him. "Besides, I like helping. It makes me feel useful."

"Your people-pleasing is showing."

"My what?"

"Nothing." You take a sip of your coffee. 

On Wednesday, he helps your mother cook. You walk into the kitchen to find them side by side at the counter, your mom teaching him how to fold dumplings. Jungwon's fingers are clumsy with the wrappers, his dumplings coming out lopsided, but he's laughing, that bright, infectious laugh that makes your mother smile and pat his cheek like he's her own son.

"He's such a good boy," your mom says to you later, after Jungwon has gone home with a container full of the dumplings he helped make. "So polite. So helpful. Any girl would be lucky to have him."

You make a noncommittal sound and flee to your room before she can see the color rising in your cheeks.

On Thursday, he brings you boba. Unprompted. Just shows up at your door with two cups of brown sugar milk tea and that same devastating smile, saying he remembered it was your favorite and the new shop in town finally opened and he wanted to try it with you.

"This is bribery," you say, taking the cup anyway. "What do you want?"

"Can't a guy just bring his best friend boba without ulterior motives?"

"I've known you for fifteen years. You definitely have ulterior motives."

"Fine." He has the decency to look slightly sheepish. "My mom wants me to clean out the garage, and I was hoping you'd keep me company while I do it. She said she found our old middle school yearbooks in there, and I thought we could... I don't know. Look through them. For nostalgia."

Nostalgia. Right. Because looking at photographic evidence of your awkward preteen phase while sitting in close proximity to Jungwon in a dusty garage sounds like a completely safe activity that won't do anything weird to your heart.

"Sounds fun," you hear yourself say, because you're a masochist apparently.

And it is fun. Infuriatingly fun. You sit on an old lawn chair while Jungwon sorts through boxes, and you flip through yearbooks filled with photos of the two of you at every stage of adolescence. Jungwon with braces. You with bangs that were a tragic mistake. The two of you at the eighth-grade dance, standing stiffly next to each other. The two of you at the high school soccer game, your face painted with the school colors, his arm slung casually around your shoulders.

"God, we were such dorks," you say, holding up a photo of Jungwon in a truly unfortunate neon-green track suit.

"Speak for yourself. I was rocking that look."

"You looked like a highlighter."

"A very fashionable highlighter."

The laughter comes easily, the way it always has. And that's the thing that's messing with your head. Because when you're actually talking to him, when you're just existing in his presence the way you've done a thousand times before, everything feels normal. Easy. Like nothing's changed. But then he'll reach past you to grab something, and his arm will brush against yours, and you'll catch the scent of his laundry detergent mixed with something warm and distinctly him, and your brain will short-circuit entirely. Or he'll laugh at something you said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you'll find yourself staring at the curve of his lips and wondering things you have absolutely no business wondering about your childhood best friend.

And then the guilt hits. Because this is Jungwon. The boy who has never once looked at you as anything other than his best friend, his little sister. And here you are, mentally glazing every time he so much as flexes his forearms, like some kind of deranged romance novel protagonist who's forgotten the entire context of her own life.

You're terrible. You're a terrible person. You need to get a grip.

The barbecue is on Saturday. Both families, together, in the Yangs' backyard. It's a tradition that's been going on since before you can remember, and missing it would be unthinkable. So you can't avoid it. You can't avoid him.

On Friday afternoon, your mother hands you a grocery list that's approximately the length of a short novel. "We need everything for the marinade, plus the sides, plus drinks, plus-"

"Mom, this is enough food for an army."

"The Yangs are an army. Take Jungwon with you. He's got a car, and you shouldn't be carrying all those bags by yourself."

"I can carry bags. I'm an adult."

"You're a twig. A strong wind could knock you over. Take Jungwon."

So you text Jungwon, and Jungwon responds within thirty seconds with an enthusiastic yes!!! and three emojis that don't go together in any logical way, and twenty minutes later you're in the passenger seat of his car, heading to the grocery store.

"Remember when we used to ride our bikes to the corner store?" he asks, pulling into the parking lot. "We'd pool our allowance and buy as much candy as we could afford, and then we'd sit on the curb and eat it all before dinner."

"And then your mom would be mad because you ruined your appetite."

"She was always mad. I was a very difficult child."

"Yeah, I remember when you used to get ragebaited by your grandma a lot. Really funny."

"Please don’t mention it again."

"You were twelve."

Grocery shopping with Jungwon is an experience. He pushes the cart, pausing every few feet to consult the list your mother gave him and cross-reference it with the items in the cart. He reads the nutrition labels on everything, which is new, the Jungwon of your childhood would have just grabbed whatever had the most colorful packaging.

"College changed you," you observe, watching him compare two jars of sesame oil. "You're like... a responsible adult now. It's disturbing."

"Someone had to become a responsible adult. You're still the same chaos gremlin you've always been."

"You want that gremlin to punch that pretty face of yours?."

"Oh so you like my face? I’m honoured."

"I like your face only when you shut your mouth."

The checkout line is long, and Jungwon insists on paying, "your mom already does so much, let me contribute something", and you're standing beside him, helping bag the groceries, when you see it.

A small box. Brightly colored. Sitting innocently in the plastic bag among the vegetables and the marinade ingredients and the six-pack of Sprite. Condoms. You stare at the box for approximately three seconds, your brain refusing to process what it's seeing. Then the processing kicks in, and a series of thoughts flash through your mind in rapid succession:

That's a box of condoms.

In Jungwon's grocery bag.

Jungwon bought condoms.

Why does Jungwon have condoms?

Oh god, Jungwon has condoms because he uses condoms.

Oh god, Jungwon has sex.

Jungwon has SEX.

WITH PEOPLE.

"Y/N?" Jungwon's voice cuts through your spiral, and you realize you've been frozen in place with a head of cabbage clutched in your hands like a stress ball. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine!" you say, and your voice comes out approximately three octaves higher than normal. "Totally fine. Great. Never been better. Cabbage. Love cabbage. Great vegetable. Very... leafy."

Jungwon squints at you, clearly not buying a single word of this, but the cashier chooses that moment to announce the total, and he turns away to pay. You shove the cabbage into the bag with perhaps more force than necessary.

It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal. He's a twenty-something guy in college. Of course he's had sex. Of course he's bought condoms. This is normal. This is fine. You're fine.

But the thought sticks in your brain like a splinter, and by the time you're back in the car, the groceries loaded into the trunk, you've worked yourself into a state of quiet, internal frenzy.

How many girls has he slept with? Did he have a girlfriend? Multiple girlfriends? Is he seeing someone right now? Why didn't he tell you? Why would he tell you? It's not like you're his- you're not his anything. You're his childhood best friend. You're basically his sister. He doesn't owe you a detailed accounting of his romantic history.

But still.

Who were they? What were they like? Were they pretty? Smart? Funny? Did he hold their hands the way he holds yours? Did he kiss them? Did he-

You cut the thought off before it can finish. You don't want to know. You really, really don't want to know.

Back at your house, you help him carry the groceries inside, your movements mechanical, your brain still running through increasingly unhelpful scenarios. Jungwon is chatting about something, the barbecue, maybe, or his plans for the rest of the summer, but you're barely listening. The box of condoms is burning a hole in your brain.

"Hey," you say, setting down the bag of vegetables with a little more force than strictly necessary. "Can I ask you something?"

"Always." Jungwon turns to face you, his expression open and unguarded, and you feel a pang of guilt for what you're about to do. This is none of your business. You shouldn't be asking this. You have no right to ask this.

But you're asking it anyway, because you're a self-destructive idiot who can't leave well enough alone. "Did you..." You pause, searching for the right words. "In college. Did you... see anyone?"

Jungwon blinks. "See anyone?"

"Like... date. Or... you know. Hook up with. Or whatever." You wave your hand vaguely, like you're talking about the weather. Like this is a casual, normal conversation between two platonic childhood friends who definitely don't have weird, complicated feelings about each other.

Jungwon's ears go pink. "That's... a pretty personal question."

"Forget it. Sorry. None of my business." You turn back to the groceries, your face burning.

"No, it's fine. It's just... unexpected." He leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah. I dated a bit. Nothing serious. I, uh..." He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you recognize from childhood. "I hooked up with some people too."

Some people. Plural. Multiple. The words hit you like a punch to the stomach.

"Okay," you say, your voice remarkably steady considering the chaos happening inside your chest. "Cool. That's cool. Normal college stuff. Good for you."

"Are you sure you want to hear this? You're making that face."

"What face?"

"The face you make when you're trying very hard not to react to something. Your left eyebrow is doing the twitchy thing."

"Totally sure," you say. "I'm just curious. We haven't really talked about... any of this. I don't know anything about your life in college."

Jungwon is quiet for a moment, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. "There was... actually, there was someone I really liked. Last semester."

"Someone you liked," you repeat.

"Yeah. A girl in my philosophy elective. I had this whole crush on her for months, but I was too nervous to say anything." He smiles, but it's a different kind of smile, softer, more distant. "It's kind of a long story. She actually ended up with one of my best friends. It's okay now, they're really happy together, and I'm genuinely glad for them. But it was... a wake-up call, I guess."

"A wake-up call?"

"I realized I'd spent so much time waiting and overthinking that I'd missed my chance. I didn't want that to happen again." He shrugs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "So I decided to just... live. Explore. Stop being so scared of everything. I figured if I didn't put myself out there, I'd just keep watching opportunities pass me by."

"So you started... sleeping around."

"That's a very blunt way to put it."

"I'm a blunt person."

"I know." He laughs, the one that crinkles his eyes. "It's one of the things I've always liked about you."

"So yeah," Jungwon continues. "I hooked up with people. Nothing serious, like I said. Just... trying things. Figuring out what I want. It's been good for me, honestly. I feel more confident now. Less like I'm waiting for something to happen and more like I'm actually living my life."

"That's... good. That's really good." You're saying the right words, but your voice sounds hollow to your own ears. "I'm happy for you."

Jungwon grins. "What about you? Any hot college romances I should know about?"

"No. Nothing. I've been too busy studying."

"Really? No one caught your eye?"

Just you, you don't say. Just the person I'm not supposed to think about like this. Just my childhood best friend who apparently spent his college years having casual hookups with other people while I was sitting in my dorm room wondering why I couldn't feel anything for anyone else.

"Nope," you say out loud. "I'm married to my textbooks."

"That's tragic."

"That's academia."

He laughs again, and then his expression shifts into something more mischievous. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you don't have to be jealous. At least my first kiss was with you."

Your brain screeches to a halt. "What."

"You know. High school. My parents' closet."

Sophomore year. It was a random Saturday afternoon, and both your families were downstairs preparing for some dinner party or another. You and Jungwon had escaped to his parents' room, hiding in the walk-in closet among the coats and the winter boots, having one of those rambling conversations that always seemed to happen when you were alone together.

And somehow, the conversation had turned to kissing. Neither of you had done it before. Neither of you wanted to be bad at it when the time came. And somehow, you still don't remember who suggested it first, you'd agreed to practice. With each other. Just to get it out of the way.

It had started awkward. A nervous brush of lips, both of you too hesitant to commit. But then Jungwon's hand had found your waist, and your fingers had curled into the fabric of his shirt, and something had shifted. The kiss had deepened. Became something hungrier, more urgent. His mouth had moved against yours with a confidence that surprised you both, and you'd made a sound, a small, breathless sound that had made him pull you closer.

It had lasted maybe five minutes. Maybe longer. Time had gone strange and elastic in the darkness of that closet. When you'd finally pulled apart, both of you breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours, neither of you had spoken. The silence had been so loud it was deafening.

And then his mom had called you both for dinner, and you'd scrambled out of the closet like guilty criminals, and neither of you had ever mentioned it again.

Until now. Apparently. Because Jungwon is just casually bringing it up like it's some funny childhood anecdote, like it didn't fundamentally alter your brain chemistry when it happened.

"That wasn't-" you splutter. "That wasn't a kiss. That was... practice."

"Practice that went on for a really long time."

"We were curious!"

"We were very curious."

"YOU'RE THE WORST."

Your fist connects with his stomach before your brain can intervene. It's not a hard punch, you're not trying to actually hurt him but he doubles over anyway, laughing so hard that his shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes, "I'm sorry, your face, you should have seen your face-"

"I HATE YOU."

"You don't hate me. You've never hated me a day in your life."

"I'm starting today. I'm starting right now."

He straightens up, still grinning, and there's no awkwardness in his expression at all. No hidden meaning. No tension. Just fond amusement, like the memory of making out with you in a closet is just one of many sweet, funny moments in the long history of your friendship.

And that's when it hits you. Really, truly hits you.

This whole situation, the confusing feelings, the stolen glances, the jealousy that's been eating you alive since you saw that stupid box of condoms, it's all completely one-sided. Jungwon isn't looking at you differently. Jungwon isn't secretly harboring feelings for you. Jungwon is exactly where he's always been: your best friend, your brother in all but blood, the person who knows you better than anyone and loves you exactly the way he always has.

Platonically. Completely, utterly, devastatingly platonically.

"I should... go help my mom with the marinade," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel. "I'll see you tomorrow. At the barbecue."

"Definitely." Jungwon's smile is warm and genuine and so completely oblivious that it makes your chest ache. 

You're already backing out of the kitchen, your movements stiff and mechanical. Jungwon gives you a little wave, already turning back to the groceries, completely unaware that he's just detonated a bomb in the middle of your emotional state.

You make it to your home, then your room. You close the door. You lock it. And then you punch your pillow with the full force of your frustration.

"At least my first kiss was with you," you mutter, mimicking his voice in a high, mocking tone. "So you don't have to be jealous." Punch. "It was PRACTICE." Punch. "We were CURIOUS." Punch. "I've been pining like an IDIOT and you're out there having HOOKUPS and telling me about your PHILOSOPHY CRUSH."

You collapse face-first onto the pillow, your voice muffled by the fabric.

"He's so STUPID. He's so OBLIVIOUS. He's out there looking like THAT and talking about his SEX LIFE and bringing me BOBA and fixing my mom's DOOR and he doesn't even NOTICE-"

You stop. You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. "What doesn't he notice?" you ask the empty room.

You know the answer. You've known the answer since the moment you saw him standing in that doorway in his stupid see-through tank top. You're into him. You're into him. Into your childhood best friend who has never once looked at you as anything other than a little sister. Into the guy who just casually told you about his college hookups and his philosophy crush and the fact that he decided to "explore his youth," whatever that means.

And what are you supposed to do with that? Confess? Risk ruining a friendship that's been the most stable thing in your life for fifteen years? Put everything on the line for a chance that he might, maybe, possibly feel something too?

No. Absolutely not. You're not going to be one of those people who ruins a lifelong friendship because they can't control their feelings. You're stronger than that. You're smarter than that. You're going to shove these feelings into a box, lock the box, and throw away the key.

Reality check, you tell yourself firmly. He doesn't see you that way. He's never seen you that way. The closet kiss was just curiosity. The way he looks at you is just friendship. The way he always saves you a seat and remembers your boba order and offers to fix things around your house is just the person he is…kind and thoughtful and completely, thoroughly platonic.

You are his childhood best friend. You are basically his sister. And that's all you're ever going to be.

You press your face back into the pillow and let out a long, muffled groan.

The barbecue is in full swing by the time you make your way to the Yangs backyard, and the scene is exactly as chaotic as you expected.

Mr. Yang is manning the grill. Your father is standing beside him, offering unsolicited advice about the proper way to flip the meet, which Mr. Yang is ignoring with the practiced patience of someone who has been receiving this advice for two decades. Your mother and Mrs. Yang are setting up the side dishes on the long picnic table, their heads bent together in what looks like a very intense gossip session. And Jungwon, Jungwon is walking toward you with a plate of meat fresh off the grill and a smile that makes your stomach do a flip.

"You're late," he says, holding out the plate. "I saved you the first batch before my dad could burn it."

You take the plate, and your fingers brush against his. The contact is brief, barely a second, but your skin tingles where he touched you, and you have to resist the urge to yank your hand back like you've been burned. This is fine. You've made peace with your feelings and shoved them into a mental box, and you're going to act completely normal today.

"Thanks for the meat," you say, and your voice comes out blessedly casual.

"You look kinda goofy."

"And you look like an idiot."

"Your idiot," he says. He doesn't mean it the way you want him to mean it. He means it the way he's always meant it, best friends, partners in crime, the two of you against the world. 

The afternoon unfolds in the easy, familiar rhythm of family gatherings. You eat too much. Your mother tells embarrassing stories about your childhood. Mrs. Yang counters with embarrassing stories about Jungwon's childhood. At some point, someone produces a karaoke machine, and your father treats everyone to a truly spectacular show of an eighties power ballad that has the entire yard howling with laughter.

And through it all, there's Jungwon. Sitting beside you at the picnic table, his knee occasionally bumping against yours. Refilling your drink before you even realize it's empty. Catching your eye from across the yard and making funny faces until you crack a smile. It's so normal. So familiar. So exactly like every other barbecue you've attended in the past fifteen years.

Except it's not. Because now you're aware of him in a way you never were before. Now you notice the way his laugh sounds when he throws his head back. Now you catalog the way his fingers curl around his cup, the way his shoulders move under his shirt, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins at you. It's exhausting. It's infuriating. It's the most alive you've felt in months.

"You're eating all the mushrooms," Jungwon observes, watching you pluck another one from the communal plate. "You know other people might want mushrooms, right?"

"Other people should have been faster."

"There were like ten mushrooms on that plate and you've taken eight of them."

"Nine, actually. I took one while you were talking."

He laughs, and you stuff another mushroom in your mouth to compensate.

The conversation shifts, as it always does, into the easy back-and-forth that's been your default setting since childhood. You argue about the correct way to pronounce a word you both heard differently. You debate whether the new coffee shop in town is better than the old one. You're laughing unguarded, when Jungwon reaches past you to grab the pitcher of lemonade. His hand slides across your lower back as he moves, just for a second, just to steady himself, but the contact sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His palm is warm through the thin fabric of your shirt, and his fingers press lightly against your waist, and his voice, when he speaks, is low and close to your ear.

"Excuse me for a second," he murmurs, and the tone, casual, intimate, completely unaware of what he's doing to you, makes your knees go weak.

Do not fold, you command yourself. Do not fold. You are a strong, independent person who is not going to melt because your childhood best friend touched your waist like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"The lemonade," you manage, your voice slightly strangled. "It's... right there."

"I see it now. Thanks."

His hand slides away, and you exhale a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Across the yard, your mother catches your eye and raises an eyebrow. You pointedly look away.

The drinking competition starts, as all great disasters do, with your father.

"Beer!" he announces, standing up from his lawn chair with the slightly unsteady enthusiasm of someone who has already had two. "We need more beer! And a competition!"

"A competition for what?" Mr. Yang asks, looking up from the grill.

"Drinking! We're all old now. When was the last time we really let loose?"

"Last New Year's Eve," your mother says flatly. "You threw up in the rose bushes."

"Details."

Despite your mother's protests, the beer is produced. And not just a few bottles, your father disappears into the house and emerges with an entire case, his expression triumphant. Within twenty minutes, both sets of parents are lined up at the picnic table, a row of shot glasses (filled with beer, because they're middle-aged adults who know their limits but are pretending not to) arranged in front of them.

"Rules!" your father announces. "First one to tap out loses. Winner gets bragging rights for the entire year."

"There are no rules," Mrs. Yang says. "You just made this up."

"I'm the commissioner of this competition. I can make rules."

"You're an accountant."

"I'm an accountant and a commissioner."

The competition, predictably, devolves into chaos. Your mother, who has the alcohol tolerance of a hummingbird, bows out after two shots and spends the next hour giggling at everything anyone says. Mrs. Yang puts up a surprisingly strong fight, matching your father shot for shot until she suddenly stops mid-sentence, blinks, and announces that the sky is "very sky-like tonight." Mr. Yang, who has been nursing the same beer for the entire afternoon, is declared the winner by default when your father attempts a victory shot and misses his own mouth entirely.

"I won?" Mr. Yang says, looking genuinely confused. "I didn't know we were competing."

"That's the spirit," your father slurs, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's winning energy."

By the time the sun sets, both sets of parents are in various states of inebriation. Your mother is asleep in a lawn chair, her head tilted back and her mouth slightly open. Mrs. Yang is having a very intense conversation with the family dog about the meaning of life. Your father and Mr. Yang are attempting to fold up the picnic table and failing spectacularly.

Which leaves you and Jungwon. The only two sober people in a yard full of chaos.

"We should probably clean this up," you say, surveying the carnage. Empty bottles cover the picnic table. Plates of half-eaten food are scattered across every available surface. Someone, you suspect your father, has draped a string of fairy lights around the grill in what appears to be an attempt at decoration.

"Probably," Jungwon agrees. "Or we could just leave it and let them deal with it tomorrow."

"Your mom is currently explaining life to a golden retriever."

"The dog seems very engaged."

"Jungwon."

"Fine, fine. I'll get the trash bags."

The cleanup takes the better part of an hour. You collect the empty bottles while Jungwon tackles the food, scraping leftovers into containers and stacking plates with the practiced efficiency of someone who has cleaned up after many family gatherings. The parents eventually stagger inside, your mom leaning heavily on your dad, Mrs. Yang still muttering philosophical observations to the dog, until it's just the two of you in the quiet backyard, the only light coming from the string of fairy lights that your father had so artistically arranged.

"Well," Jungwon says, tying off the last trash bag. "That was..."

"A disaster?"

"I was going to say a successful family event, but disaster works too."

"It's not a real barbecue until someone passes out."

"Your dad set a new record this year. He almost made it to sunset."

"Personal growth."

Jungwon laughs, and the sound echoes in the quiet yard. He's standing close to you, closer than you realized and the fairy lights catch the angles of his face, the curve of his smile, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. He looks like something out of a movie. A romance movie. The kind you watch when you want to torture yourself with unrealistic expectations about love.

"So," he says, leaning against the now-clean picnic table. "The parents are asleep. The food is put away. The dog is having an existential crisis. What now?"

"I don't know. Go home? Go to bed?"

"We could do that." He tilts his head, and there's something in his expression, something teasing, something challenging. "Or we could continue the tradition."

"What tradition?"

"The drinking competition. You know. Carry on the family legacy."

"Everyone else is passed out."

"Exactly. The title is still up for grabs."

You raise an eyebrow. "You want to have a drinking competition. With me."

"I want to see if you can handle it." His smile widens, and it's the same smile he used to give you when you were kids. "Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared. I'm sensible. There's a difference."

"Sensible is just a word scared people use."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"It makes perfect sense. You just don't want to admit it."

The banter is familiar, comforting. But there's something different about it tonight. Something that feels almost like flirting, even though you know it's not. Even though Jungwon is just being Jungwon, and you're just being you, and this is exactly the kind of stupid challenge you would have accepted without hesitation back when you were teenagers and didn't know any better.

"Fine. But I'm warning you, I'm very competitive."

"So am I."

"My dad keeps a bottle of whiskey in the study," he says over his shoulder. "The good kind. The kind he thinks no one knows about."

"You're going to steal your dad's whiskey?"

"I'm going to borrow it. There's a difference."

"That's not how borrowing works."

"It's how my borrowing works."

The Yangs' house is quiet and dark, the only sound the distant snoring of a parent somewhere upstairs. You follow Jungwon to the study. He rummages through the bottom drawer with the confidence of someone who has done this before, and when he straightens up, there's a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"Ta-da," he says, holding it up like a trophy. "Twelve-year aged whiskey. My dad's been saving it for a special occasion."

"And this counts as a special occasion?"

"First barbecue of the summer? Definitely special."

"You're going to regret this tomorrow."

"Probably. But that's future Jungwon's problem. Current Jungwon wants to see if you can hold your liquor."

You follow him back to the living room, where he produces two glasses from the kitchen and pours generous measures of whiskey into each. He hands you a glass, and your fingers brush against his, and you very pointedly do not think about the contact.

"Rules," Jungwon says, settling onto the couch. "We take turns. Each of us drinks when it's our turn. First one to tap out loses."

"That's not a game. That's just... drinking."

"It's a drinking game. The game is drinking."

"That's the laziest game I've ever heard of."

"Do you have a better idea?"

You don't. So you clink your glass against his and take your first sip.

The whiskey burns going down, warm and smoky, and you can feel it spreading through your chest like a slow fire. Jungwon takes his turn, then you take yours. The glasses are refilled. The room starts to feel warmer, Jungwon's face is slightly flushed now, and his laugh comes easier, and he's sitting closer to you on the couch than he was before. Or maybe you're sitting closer to him. It's hard to tell.

"Remember the closet?" he says, and the question catches you off guard.

"What closet?"

"My parents' closet. High school. The-"

"I know which closet." Your face is heating, and it's not just from the whiskey. "What about it?"

Jungwon grins, and it's a looser grin than usual, less guarded. "Nothing. Just... that was a good kiss. For a first kiss, I mean."

"It was practice."

"It was a lot of practice."

"You're drunk."

"So are you."

"I'm not drunk. I'm... pleasantly tipsy."

"That's a very fancy way of saying drunk."

"I'm a fancy person."

"You're wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon cat on it."

"The cat is wearing a top hat. That makes it fancy."

Jungwon laughs so hard he nearly spills his whiskey. You catch his arm to steady him, and the contact is electric, and you pull your hand back like you've been burned.

"You know what," you say, the whiskey courage flooding through your veins, "you were actually a terrible kisser. Back then. In the closet. You were bad at it."

Jungwon's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Terrible. All teeth and no technique."

"That is... extremely revisionist history."

"It's accurate history. You were bad. I was just being nice about it."

"I was not bad. I was-" He pauses, searching for the right word. "-enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastically bad."

"You were enthusiastic too!"

"I was practicing. There's a difference."

The room is spinning slightly now, but you don't care. The whiskey has unlocked something in you, something reckless and brave and completely, utterly stupid. The mental box where you've been storing your feelings is starting to crack at the edges, and you can't seem to find the energy to patch it back up.

Childhood friend? Brother-sister bond? Screw that. Screw all of that.

"I've had time to perfect it, you know," Jungwon says, and his voice is lower now, rougher. "Since high school. I've gotten better."

"That's what you think."

"It's what I know."

"Prove it."

The words hang in the air between you like a challenge. Like a dare. 

Jungwon blinks, his glass pausing halfway to his lips. "Prove it?"

"You said you've gotten better. I don't believe you." Your heart is hammering, but your voice is steady. "I want to test it out. For scientific purposes."

"You're drunk."

"So are you. That's not an excuse."

Jungwon stares at you for a long moment. His expression is unreadable, surprise, confusion, something else that flickers in his eyes and disappears before you can identify it.

"You're serious," he says.

"I'm always serious."

"You're the least serious person I know."

"And yet here I am. Being serious."

The silence stretches between you. Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. This is it. This is the moment where he laughs it off, makes a joke, brings back the familiar brotherly distance that's been the foundation of your friendship for fifteen years.

But he doesn't.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is so quiet you almost miss it. "Let's test it out."

He sets down his glass. You set down yours. Jungwon stands up, and you stand up, and the room tilts slightly, but you don't care.

"Let’s go to my place," you say, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady. "My room. The parents are all passed out anyway."

"Your room," Jungwon repeats. "Your childhood bedroom. With the stuffed animals and the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling."

"The stars are still there. The stuffed animals are in a box."

Jungwon follows you to your house (which is literally five steps outside his house). Your room is exactly as you left it, the bed is made, the curtains drawn, and the lamp on your nightstand casts a warm, golden light across everything.

Jungwon stands in the doorway, his hand on the frame, his expression caught between hesitation and something else. "Last chance to back out," he says quietly.

"I don't want to back out."

"You're sure?"

Everytime - Ariana Grande now playing

Instead of answering, you reach out and grab the front of his shirt, pulling him into the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

Jungwon sits at the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. You stand before him for a moment, heart pounding in your chest, before climbing onto his lap, straddling him with a confidence you don't know you possess.

His hands immediately find your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shorts. He pulls you closer, pressing you against the growing hardness beneath his jeans, and a soft gasp escapes your lips.

"What are you waiting to kiss me?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with intoxication.

Instead of answering, you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss starts slow, tentative that quickly deepens as years of suppressed desire come rushing to the surface. His lips are soft but demanding, moving against yours with a practiced confidence that makes your head spin.

The kiss quickly escalates from tender to feverish. You are devouring each other, mouths opening wider, tongues tangling in a desperate dance. It is messy and urgent and everything you haven't let yourself imagine for all those years. Jungwon's hands roam your body, sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, then back down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him.

He starts sucking your tongue into his mouth, drawing it in with a deliberate, sexual rhythm that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His eyes remain open, locked with yours as he works your tongue, the intensity of his gaze nearly undoing you completely. The wet, obscene sounds of his sucking fill the room, mingling with your ragged breaths.

Your hips begin to move instinctively, grinding against him in a rhythm that matches the pull of his mouth on your tongue. The friction of your clothed bodies sliding together creates a heat that is almost unbearable.

"Fuck," he groans against your mouth, releasing your tongue briefly. "You feel so good. Move harder."

His words spur you on, and you move with abandon, dry humping him with a desperate need that borders on obscene. Every thrust of your hips against his sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel his arousal pressing insistently against you, growing harder with each movement.

Jungwon's hands slip under your shirt, his rough palms sliding against your skin as he explores the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. You tilt your head back, giving him better access as your hips continue their relentless rhythm.

"You like that?" he whispers against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "Like riding me like this? So desperate for it."

"Shut up," you breathe, even as your body responds to his taunts, moving faster, harder.

"Make me," he challenges, capturing your lips again in another searing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth with renewed intensity, and this time you meet him with equal fervor, sucking and licking and biting in a battle for dominance that neither of you is truly trying to win.

The room grows hotter, the air thick with the scent of whisky and arousal. Jungwon's hands roam freely now, squeezing your breasts through your shirt, pinching your nipples until you cry out against his mouth.

"You’re so cute," he murmurs, his words muffled by your kisses. "Wonder how you'd look with my mouth somewhere else." Jungwon meets your rhythm, thrusting up against you, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Look at you," he continues, his voice dropping lower, becoming rougher. "So desperate for it. Bet you're soaking through these panties right now, aren't you?"

"Only if you're not already leaking through those jeans," you shoot back, your own voice breathy with need.

His response is a guttural groan as he increases the pace, his hips bucking up to meet yours with an urgency that matches your own. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the symphony of wet kisses, ragged breaths, and whispered profanities that fill the room.

"Jungwon," you gasp against his mouth, the name a prayer and a curse all at once.

"Right here," he responds, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even closer as he increases the friction between you. "Not going anywhere."

The pressure builds to an almost unbearable level, your movements becoming frantic as you chase your release. Jungwon seems to sense your need, his mouth returning to yours in a kiss that is both possessive and tender, his tongue once again sucking yours into his mouth with a rhythm that pushes you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes over you with surprising intensity, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you collapse against him, boneless and trembling. Jungwon holds you through it, his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses against your hair as you struggle to catch your breath.

When your senses slowly return, you become aware of the hardness still pressing against you, a testament to his own unsatisfied desire. You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room.

"Your turn," you whisper, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you prepare to return the favor.

Just as you shift to take control, Jungwon's hands shoot out, gripping your waist with surprising strength. "Oh no," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "I'm not letting you lead this game. Not yet."

Before you can protest, he's flipped the positions, maneuvering you with an ease that is both impressive and infuriating. You find yourself sitting at the edge of the bed, breathless from the sudden movement, while Jungwon kneels before you. His eyes, dark and intense, never leave yours as his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts.

"These have to go," he states simply, tugging them down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. A flush creeps up your neck as you realize how wet you are, the evidence of your earlier orgasm glistening on your thighs.

Jungwon notices too, of course. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he traces a finger along the damp skin of your inner thigh. "Well now," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Someone got excited. Tell me, Y/N, did you just squirt? Because this looks like more than just regular excitement."

You open your mouth to deliver a sharp comeback, but the words die on your lips as he leans in, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh. His lips are warm and gentle against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions.

"I should kiss your lips from down there too," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot against your core. "Since you're so convinced I'm a terrible kisser, maybe I need to practice on a different set of lips."

His mouth moves higher, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Then he pauses, sucking gently at the tender skin of your inner thigh, leaving a dark mark that will surely be visible tomorrow. He repeats the action on the other side, creating matching hickeys that stand out against your pale skin.

"I don't see the point of putting them on the neck," he explains, admiring his handiwork. "These are much more interesting, don't you think?"

You can't form a coherent response, not when his mouth is so close to where you need it most. And then he is there, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path along your folds. The sensation is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Jungwon doesn't hold back. He devours you with an enthusiasm that is almost overwhelming, his tongue exploring every inch of your most sensitive areas. It is too much, too intense, and you find yourself trying to slide away, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

But Jungwon isn't having it. His arms lock around your thighs, holding you in place as he effortlessly slides you back toward his waiting mouth. "Oh no you don't," he growls against your core. "You wanted proof, and I'm not done proving anything yet."

His tongue enters you then, fucking you with a rhythm that makes your toes curl. It is delicious, the way he moves inside you, exploring every inch of your inner walls with a skill that is both impressive and infuriating. You look down at him, at the way his dark hair falls across his forehead as he works, at the intense concentration on his face as he focuses on bringing you pleasure.

Just as you are approaching the edge again, he slows down, his movements becoming deliberate, teasing. He runs his tongue through your folds with agonizing slowness, pausing occasionally to look up at you, his eyes dark with challenge. He knows exactly what he is doing, the bastard. He is provoking you, testing your limits, pushing you to the brink of insanity with his maddeningly slow pace.

The sounds are the worst part, or the best part, you can't decide. Each slow lick is accompanied by a wet, sucking noise that echoes in the quiet room, a constant reminder of what is happening between your legs. 

"Say it," he murmurs against you, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Say I'm a good kisser."

You bite your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction. You are always stubborn, always bratty when challenged, and this is no different. If he wants you to admit he is good, he is going to have to work harder for it.

Jungwon chuckles, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. "Still so defiant," he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. "Is that how you treat your precious friend?"

He returns to his task with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue moving faster now, his lips sucking at your clit with a rhythm that makes your hips buck involuntarily. 

"Come on, Y/N," he urges, his voice rough with desire. "Just say it. Say I'm a good kisser, and I'll let you come."

That is all it takes. The combination of his skilled tongue and his dirty talk sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. As waves of pleasure course through your body, the words finally tumble from your lips.

"You're a good kisser," you gasp, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Oh god, Jungwon, you're such a good kisser."

Jungwon continues his ministrations through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you are completely spent, collapsing back against the bed with a satisfied sigh. Only then does he pull away, a triumphant grin on his face as he looks up at you.

"Glad we settled that," he says, his voice smug with satisfaction. He rises to his feet, standing before you with a noticeable bulge in his jeans. "Now it's your turn. Suck my dick."

Jungwon doesn't wait for an answer. He simply stands and begins to unbutton his jeans. He pushes his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, and his cock springs free, hard and heavy.

He stands before you, completely exposed from the waist down. He is bigger than you'd somehow imagined, thick and curving slightly upward, the tip already glistening with precum. A vein pulses along the underside.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice low and rough. It isn't a request, but you find yourself complying without hesitation, sliding off the bed onto the plush carpet of your bedroom floor. He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that his cock is nearly level with your face. He tangles his fingers in your hair, his grip firm but not painful, using it to tilt your head back.

"Open up," he murmurs, his eyes dark with intensity as he looks down at you. "Let's see if that mouth is good for more than just talking back."

You part your lips, your heart pounding in your chest as he guides himself to your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty bitterness of his precum, and he lets out a low groan, his fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes, his voice strained. "Just like that."

You take him into your mouth then, slowly at first, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he fills you so completely. You move your tongue along the underside, tracing the path of that pulsing vein, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily.

"Careful," he warns, though his tone is more pleased than admonishing. "I’m enjoying this a bit too much."

You want to see him come undone, to hear him gasp and groan, to know that you are the one causing his pleasure. You take him deeper then, until the tip of his cock brushes against the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, your muscles contracting.

"Jesus Christ," he gasps, his hips beginning to move in a shallow rhythm. "You're…fuck…you're really good at this."

You pull back slightly, creating a suction that makes his eyes roll back in his head. Then you take him deep again. Your hands come up to grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch as he fights to maintain control.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with need. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you're sucking my cock."

You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his as you continue your ministrations. The intensity in his gaze is nearly overwhelming, a mixture of raw desire and something that looks suspiciously like affection. Jungwon begins to move more freely then, his hips thrusting in time with the movements of your mouth. The pace quickens, growing more frantic as he approaches his release. 

"I'm close," he warns, his voice strained.

You can feel it too, the way his cock seems to swell in your mouth, the way his thrusts become more erratic. You double your efforts, taking him as deep as you can, your tongue working frantically against him.

"Y/N," he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair. "I'm…fuck, I'm coming."

His release is sudden and explosive, hot and salty as he spills into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, taking everything he has to give. When he is finished, Jungwon pulls away slowly, his cock softening as he withdraws from your mouth. He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and satisfaction, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

"Come here," he says, his voice softening as he reaches down to help you to your feet. He pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both tender and reassuring, tasting of him and of you and of everything you have just shared.

"You did great," he murmurs against your lips, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

You melt against him, your body still humming with pleasure, your mind reeling from the intensity of what has just happened. 

You wake up to the sensation of someone driving a truck over you.

No. Wait. That's just the hangover.

Your eyes crack open, and the first thing you register is the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. The second thing you register is that your mouth tastes like something died in it. The third thing is that you're wearing only one sock. The fourth thing hits you like a freight train.

Jungwon.

You bolt upright so fast that the room spins violently, and you have to press your palm against your forehead to keep your brain from escaping through your ears. The memories come flooding back in fragmented, disjointed flashes, the whiskey, the challenge, the door clicking shut. His hands on your waist. You grinding on him. The way he'd said your name, low and rough, like it was something sacred.

You look down at yourself. You're still in your shirt from last night, wrinkled but still there. Your shorts are on the floor. And there, on your inner thigh, just above your knee, is a mark. A small, purplish bruise that definitely wasn't there yesterday.

You look for more, your heart hammering, and find another one. And another. A whole constellation of hickeys mapping a path across your skin.

"Oh my god," you whisper to the empty room. "Oh my god, it wasn't a dream."

It was not a dream. It was very much not a dream. You and Jungwon had gone at each other like two people who had been waiting their entire lives for an excuse. There had been hands and mouths and the kind of sounds you didn't know you were capable of making. And now you have to face him.

You spend approximately fifteen minutes staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to will the evidence off your skin. The hickeys are not going anywhere unfortunately. The smell of breakfast hits you before you even reach the bottom of the stairs. Eggs. Bacon. The unmistakable aroma of your mother's hangover soup, which she only makes when the entire household has made questionable decisions the night before. You follow the scent to the kitchen, your stomach churning with a mixture of nausea and pure, undiluted terror.

And there he is.

Jungwon is sitting at your kitchen table. Your kitchen table. In your house. Eating your mother's cooking like he belongs there, which, to be fair, he kind of does. He's been eating at this table since before he could see over the edge of it. But today, the sight of him makes your entire body go hot and cold at the same time.

He looks... fine. Completely, infuriatingly fine. His hair is slightly damp, like he's just showered. He's wearing a soft-looking sweater and jeans, and he's laughing at something your dad is saying, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way. There's no sign of a hangover. No sign of regret. No sign that anything at all has changed between you.

"There she is!" your mother announces, spotting you in the doorway. "The last survivor of last night's chaos. Come, sit. I made soup."

You mumble something that might be "good morning" or might be "please kill me," and you slide into the chair across from Jungwon. He glances up at you, and for one heart-stopping moment, you think you see something flicker in his eyes, a flash of recognition, a hint of heat, but then it's gone, replaced by that same easy, brotherly smile.

"Rough night?" he asks, and his tone is light, teasing, completely normal.

"You could say that."

"Your dad was snoring so loud I could hear it from my house."

You stare at Jungwon, waiting for something, a knowing look, a secret smile, something that acknowledges what happened between you. But he just keeps eating his eggs, chatting with your parents like this is any other morning, like he didn't spend a significant portion of last night with his mouth on your-

"Y/N, you're not eating," your mother says, pushing the soup closer to you. "Are you feeling okay? You look flushed."

"I'm fine," you manage. "Just... tired."

"Too much whiskey," your dad says sagely. "I told you kids. The Yangs can hold their liquor. Our family has no chance."

"I'm literally a Yang," Jungwon points out.

"Exactly. You have the advantage. It's genetics."

The conversation flows around and you sit there in silence, pushing your soup around your bowl, watching Jungwon act like everything is normal. Like everything is fine. Like he didn't whisper your name against your lips in the dark of your childhood bedroom.

It's infuriating. It's absolutely, completely, maddeningly infuriating.

The moment breakfast ends, you corner him.

Your parents have retreated to the living room, and Jungwon is at the sink, rinsing his bowl with the same helpful energy he's always had. You wait until you hear the TV turn on, and then you grab his arm and pull him into the hallway.

"Hey-" he starts, but you're already backing him against the wall, your hands planted on either side of him, your eyes blazing.

"What the hell was that?"

Jungwon blinks at you. "What was what?"

"That!" You gesture vaguely at the kitchen, at the breakfast table, at the entire morning. "Sitting there, eating eggs, acting like nothing happened!"

"Because nothing happened."

"Nothing-" You choke on the word. "Nothing happened? Jungwon, we…last night…my room…"

Understanding dawns on his face, and his expression shifts into something more serious. More guarded. "Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

He exhales slowly, his shoulders dropping. "Y/N, look. Last night was..." He pauses, searching for the right word. "It was a mistake."

The word hits you like a slap. "A mistake."

"Not because of you," he adds quickly, his ears turning pink. "Never because of you. But I shouldn't have... we were both drunk. We weren't thinking clearly. I took advantage of the situation, and I'm sorry."

"You didn't take advantage of anything. I'm the one who started it."

"You were drunk."

"So were you."

"That's exactly my point." He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated gesture you've seen a thousand times. "We were both drunk, and we did things that... that we probably wouldn't have done if we were sober. And I don't want that to change anything between us."

Your stomach drops. "You don't?"

"No. You're my best friend, Y/N. You've been my best friend since I was six years old. I'm not going to let one night of... whatever that was... ruin fifteen years of friendship." His voice is earnest, his eyes searching your face for understanding. "I mean, it wasn't even... we didn't even... it was just foreplay, right? It's not like we went all the way. We can just forget it happened. Move on. Go back to normal."

Just foreplay. The words echo in your head like a taunt. Just foreplay. Like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter. Like the marks on your thighs are just random bruises, meaningless and forgettable.

"Right," you hear yourself say, and your voice comes out remarkably steady. "Just foreplay. No big deal."

"Exactly." Jungwon's shoulders relax, and the smile that spreads across his face is so relieved, so genuinely happy, that it makes your chest ache. "I knew you'd understand. You've always been the reasonable one."

"I'm the sarcastic one. You're the reasonable one."

"Then we're both reasonable. Even better." He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, and then he's walking past you, back toward the kitchen, calling out something to your mom about helping with the dishes.

You stand there in the hallway, your back pressed against the wall, and you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. You blink them back furiously. You are not going to cry. You are not going to cry over Jungwon, who just called what happened between you a mistake. Who said it was just foreplay. Who wants to forget it happened and move on.

You're not going to cry. But you're also not going to forget.

Two days pass.

Two days of pretending everything is normal. Two days of Jungwon acting exactly the same as he always has, helpful and cheerful and brotherly and infuriating. Two days of you smiling and nodding and laughing at his jokes while something hot and angry and desperate simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.

The problem is, you can't stop looking at him.

Every time he reaches for something, you notice the flex of his forearm. Every time he laughs, you watch the way his throat moves. Every time he brushes past you, your body remembers the weight of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the sound of his voice saying your name in the dark. 

It's frustrating. It's maddening. It's the most alive you've felt in years.

"Convenience store run?" Jungwon appears in your doorway on the third afternoon. "I'm craving melon ice cream."

"You're always craving melon ice cream."

"Pretty please."

"Fine." You grab your jacket and follow him out.

Jungwon chatters about nothing, a movie he wants to see, a new boba flavor he tried and hated. You respond in monosyllables, your attention divided between the conversation and the way the afternoon light catches the angles of his jaw.

You need to get a grip. You really, really need to get a grip.

The convenience store is blessedly air-conditioned and mostly empty. Jungwon heads straight for the ice cream aisle, leaving you to wander toward the chip section.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

You turn. The guy standing in front of you is vaguely familiar. It takes you a moment to place him, but then the memory clicks into focus: Jaehyun. High school. You'd sat next to each other in math class for two years.

"Jaehyun!" you say, genuinely surprised. "Wow, it's been a while."

"Right? Three years, maybe? You look great." He grins, and it's a nice grin, friendly and open. "Are you back for the summer?"

"Yeah, just visiting family. You?"

"Same. My parents still live in the old house, so I'm stuck here until August." He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Small towns, right? Nothing ever changes."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation flows easily, catching up on majors and career plans and mutual acquaintances from high school.

"Hey, we should catch up properly sometime," Jaehyun says, pulling out his phone. "A bunch of us are doing a bonfire next weekend. You should come. Bring whoever you want."

"Yeah, maybe. That sounds-"

And then his hand reaches out and ruffles your hair. It's an innocent gesture. Friendly. The same kind of casual physical contact that people exchange all the time without thinking about it. But before you can even process what's happening, there's a blur of movement behind you, and Jaehyun’s wrist is being yanked away from your head with enough force to make him yelp.

"Hey now," Jungwon's voice says, and it's light, teasing, the same tone he uses when he's joking around. But there's something underneath it, something cold and sharp that you've never heard before. "Let's keep our hands to ourselves, yeah?"

Jaehyun stares at him, his eyes wide. You stare too. Jungwon is smiling, a pleasant, polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes. 

"I was just-" Jaehyun starts.

"Just saying hi. I get it." Jungwon's smile doesn't waver. "But here's the thing…you don't touch her hair. That's not something you get to do. Understand?"

Jaehyun nods quickly, and Jungwon releases his wrist, patting him on the shoulder with that same easy, friendly energy.

"Good talk. Enjoy your summer, man."

And then he's turning away, his hand finding your elbow, steering you toward the checkout counter. You catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s face, confused, slightly alarmed, before you're being dragged down the snack aisle and out of view.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss, yanking your arm free.

"What was what?" Jungwon doesn't look at you. He's studying the ice cream selection like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

"That! With Jaehyun! You just, you threatened him!"

"I didn't threaten him. I set a boundary. There's a difference."

"You grabbed his wrist!"

"Gently."

"Jungwon." You step in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "What is your deal?"

For a long moment, he doesn't answer. His expression is unreadable, his jaw tight. Then he moves, one step, two, and suddenly you're backing up, your shoulders hitting the cold glass door of the ice cream freezer. He's right there, inches away, his body crowding yours against the door, and you can feel the chill of the glass through your shirt and the heat of him in front of you.

His hand comes up. His fingers slide into your hair. And then he ruffles it,but it's not the casual gesture from before. It's slower. More deliberate. His fingertips trace against your scalp, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

"Don't let other guys touch your hair," he says quietly, and his voice is low and rough and completely, utterly serious. "That's mine."

You stare up at him, your heart hammering, your brain short-circuiting. His face is close, so close you can see the individual strands of his eyelashes, the way his pupils have gone dark and wide. He looks like a completely different person. He looks like someone who wants to devour you.

And then he steps back. "Anyway," he says, and his voice is back to normal, cheerful and light, like nothing at all just happened. "I'm getting melon and chocolate. You want strawberry, right?"

He turns and walks toward the checkout counter, leaving you frozen against the ice cream freezer, your legs weak, your heart racing, your hair still tingling where he touched it.

What. The hell. Was that.

You stay there for a solid thirty seconds, trying to remember how to breathe. The cold from the freezer is seeping through your shirt, and you can hear Jungwon chatting with the cashier like he didn't just press you against a freezer and claim ownership of your hair. Your hair. Like it belongs to him. Like you belong to him.

And the worst part, the absolute, devastating worst part is that some dark, twisted corner of your brain liked it. Liked the way he'd crowded you. Liked the way he'd said mine in that low, possessive voice. Liked the way his fingers had felt in your hair, slow and deliberate and completely unlike anything he'd ever done before.

You push yourself off the freezer door and follow him to the checkout. Jungwon is already paying, his expression serene, his posture relaxed.

"Got your strawberry," he says, holding up the ice cream. "Ready to go?"

You nod mutely.

The walk home is quiet. Jungwon eats his melon ice cream and comments on the weather and points out a funny-shaped cloud, and you walk beside him in a daze, your mind spinning with questions you're too afraid to ask.

*What was that back there?*

*What did you mean by "mine"?*

*Do you want me the way I want you, or was that just some weird protective instinct that you're going to laugh off later and pretend never happened?*

But you don't ask. Because you're scared of the answers. Because if he laughs it off, if he says it was nothing, if he goes back to being the same platonic Jungwon he's always been, you don't think you can handle that.  So you walk in silence, and you eat your strawberry ice cream, and you try very hard not to think about the way his fingers felt in your hair.

The invitation comes on a Thursday, delivered via text message with the casual energy of someone suggesting what to have for lunch.

**Jungwon:** *lake tomorrow? picnic? there's that spot we used to go to as kids. i'll pack food.*

You stare at the message for approximately five minutes. The spot he's talking about is a small, secluded clearing by the lake about twenty minutes outside of town—a hidden gem that you'd discovered together when you were kids. You'd spent entire summers there, swimming until your fingers pruned, eating sandwiches that got slightly soggy from the cooler, lying on the grass and making up stories about the shapes in the clouds.

It's also, objectively, one of the most romantic places in existence. Secluded. Quiet. Surrounded by trees and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. If you were a romance novel protagonist, this would be the chapter where the love interest makes his move.

But you're not a romance novel protagonist.

This is a terrible idea. You should say no.

**You:** *sure. what time?*

The next morning Jungwon picks you up at ten, his car already packed with a cooler, a picnic blanket, and two towels that he definitely stole from his mom's linen closet.

"Ready for adventure?" he asks, holding the passenger door open with an exaggerated flourish.

"Ready for a twenty-minute drive to a lake we've been to literally a hundred times?"

"Every time is a new adventure."

"I’m already tired of you speaking."

"It’s just the beginning."

You roll your eyes and climb into the car, and he closes the door behind you with a satisfied grin. You roll down the window, letting the warm air whip through your hair, and for a moment, everything feels simple. Easy. Like it used to be before your feelings got tangled up in everything. And then Jungwon connects his phone to the car speaker, and a familiar song starts playing.

Lost Island - Enhypen now playing

"Oh my god," you say, recognizing the opening notes. "Is this-"

"Lost Island," he confirms, his grin widening. "Don't pretend you don't know every word."

"I don't know every word."

"You definitely know every word. You made me watch the colour coded lyrics when it came out."

"That was just to see the translation.."

"What about when you made me look at the concept photoshoot of the album?"

"It was for art purposes. I was studying the different concepts."

"You were studying Ni-ki’s pictures for the Afterlight version (iykyk), yeah?"

"Those pictures are a cultural reset."

He laughs, and the sound fills the car, and then he's singing along, loud and off-key and you can't help but join in. You've known this song since it came out. You've listened to it on late-night study sessions, on walks across campus, on the bus ride home from college. You know every lyric, every beat, every ad-lib. And singing it with Jungwon, your voices clashing and harmonizing in all the wrong ways, feels like coming home.

"AND NOTHING’S MORE PRECIOUS THAN TIME? THAN TIME WITH YOU!" he belts, completely butchering the song.

"That's not even close to the right key!"

"It's the right key in my heart!"

"Your heart is tone-deaf!"

The banter carries you the rest of the way to the lake, the familiar landscape scrolling past your window like a slideshow of your childhood. 

"It's exactly the same," you breathe, stepping out of the car.

"Some things don't change," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something almost wistful that makes you glance at him. But he's already turning away, pulling the cooler out of the trunk, his expression back to its usual cheerful neutrality.

Jungwon spreads the blanket on a flat patch of grass near the water's edge, weighting down the corners with rocks so it doesn't blow away in the breeze. He unpacks the cooler very carefully, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a container of cut fruit, two bottles of lemonade, a bag of chips, and a small box of the cookies you used to beg your mom to buy when you were little.

"You remembered the cookies," you say, and your voice comes out more surprised than you intended.

"Of course I remembered. They're your favorite." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like remembering your favorite childhood cookies is just something people do. "I also brought the chips you like, even though you always eat the entire bag and then complain that you feel sick."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I will push you into the lake."

"You can try."

After lunch, Jungwon leans back on his elbows, tilting his face toward the sun. "We should swim."

"We didn't bring swimsuits."

"So?"

"So I'm not swimming in my clothes."

"Who said anything about clothes?" He grins at the look on your face. "Kidding. Kind of. You can swim in your t-shirt and underwear. It's basically the same as a swimsuit."

"Underwear is not the same as a swimsuit."

"It's fabric. You wear it. You get wet. Same concept."

"The concept is not the same. There's-" You stop, because he's already pulling his shirt over his head, and the sight of his bare torso short-circuits your brain.

You've seen Jungwon without a shirt before. Plenty of times. Swimming as kids, running through sprinklers, that one disastrous summer when he decided to try to get a six-pack and made you do crunches with him in his backyard. But this is different. He's different. The lean muscle of his shoulders, the planes of his chest, the way his stomach tightens as he tosses the shirt onto the blanket, it's all very, very different.

"See something you like?" he asks, and his tone is teasing, light, completely unaware of the chaos happening inside your brain.

"Just trying to figure out where your tan line starts," you say, your voice blessedly steady. "It's very uneven."

He laughs and wades into the water, his back to you, and you take the opportunity to have a small, internal meltdown. If he doesn't see you as a romantic prospect, then what does it matter if you're in your underwear? It's not like he's going to look at you differently. It's not like anything is going to change.

"Fine," you say, standing up. "But if I get hypothermia, you're explaining it to my mom."

"You're not going to get hypothermia. It's like eighty degrees."

You pull your shirt over your head, shimmy out of your shorts, and are left standing in your underwear, a simple black set that you definitely didn't choose this morning with the vague, subconscious hope that someone might see it. That would be ridiculous.

Jungwon glances back at you, and for just a second, just a fraction of a heartbeat, his eyes flicker down your body. But then he's looking away, splashing into the deeper water, his voice carrying over the lake. "Hurry up! The water's perfect!"

You wade in after him, and the water is cold enough to make you gasp. You push through the discomfort and dive forward, submerging yourself completely, and when you surface, your hair is plastered to your face and you're laughing.

"See?" Jungwon says, swimming toward you. "Not hypothermia."

"Ask me again in ten minutes."

"You'll be fine. You're tough."

You float on your back, staring up at the sky, and Jungwon floats beside you, and for a while, neither of you speaks. It's peaceful. Quiet. The kind of moment you'd want to bottle and keep forever.

And then Jungwon ruins it. "Remember when we used to do this as kids?" he says, his voice dreamy. "You were so small I could carry you around the whole lake."

"I was not that small."

"You were tiny. I could pick you up with one arm."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"It's not a lie. I'll prove it."

Before you can protest, he's moving toward you through the water, his hands finding your waist. You barely have time to yelp before he lifts you, actually *lifts* you, like you weigh nothing and suddenly you're dangling in the water with his hands under your arms, your face level with his.

"See?" he says, and his grin is insufferable. "Still got it."

"That's not, you're using both hands-"

"Details."

The position is ridiculous. You're basically suspended in the water, your legs floating uselessly behind you, his hands wedged firmly under your armpits. But his fingers, his fingers are pressing into the sides of your chest, dangerously close to-

Oh god.

His thumbs are brushing against the curve of your breasts.

You freeze. Every muscle in your body goes rigid. Your face, which was already flushed from the sun, goes approximately forty shades redder. Jungwon doesn't seem to notice, he's still grinning, still holding you up, his fingers still in that exact same position.

"You're so light," he's saying. "Have you been eating enough? Your mom was right, you're like a-"

You don't let him finish. You thrash in his grip, twisting out of his hands with a splash that sends water cascading over both of you. When you surface, gasping, you use the momentum to push a wave directly into his face.

"What was that for?!" he splutters, wiping water from his eyes.

"You were being annoying!"

"I was being helpful!"

"Your hands were-" You stop. You cannot say your hands were on my boobs. You absolutely cannot say that. "You were in my personal space!"

"That's what happens when you carry someone! There's personal space involved!"

"Not that much personal space!"

"You're so weird." But he's laughing, and the moment passes, and he's swimming away from you toward the deeper part of the lake, completely oblivious to the cardiac event he just caused.

You float there for a moment, your heart hammering, your skin tingling everywhere his fingers had touched. He didn't notice. Of course he didn't notice. He was just being Jungwon, playful and physical and completely unaware of the effect he has on you. To him, it was just another childhood game. Just another memory in the long highlight reel of your friendship.

But to you? To you, it was everything.

You take a deep breath and dive underwater, letting the cold silence swallow you whole. When you surface again, you've composed yourself. Your face is still flushed, but you can blame it on the sun. Your heart is still racing, but you can blame it on the swimming.

"You okay over there?" Jungwon calls from the deeper water. "You look like you're thinking too hard."

"I'm always thinking too hard."

"What about?"

About you. About your hands. About the way you said "mine" in the convenience store and then never mentioned it again. About how I'm trying so hard to move on and you keep doing things that make it impossible.

"About how I'm going to get revenge," you say instead, and you launch yourself toward him with a war cry that echoes across the lake.

The splash fight that follows is epic. Water goes everywhere. You end up with lake water in your sinuses and a piece of algae in your hair. Jungwon laughs so hard he accidentally inhales water and spends a full minute coughing on the shore. When you finally drag yourselves out of the lake, shivering and dripping and exhausted, you collapse onto the picnic blanket side by side, staring up at the sky.

The sun is starting its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Your clothes are spread out on the grass, drying in the warm air, and you're lying in your underwear on a picnic blanket next to your childhood best friend, and somehow it doesn't feel awkward. It feels natural. Easy. Like this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

But as the sky darkens and the first stars appear, you remind yourself: this isn't a romance novel. He doesn't see you that way. And you're trying to move on.

You just wish moving on didn't feel so much like falling.

You're both still damp from the lake, a pleasant chill raising goosebumps on your skin. Jungwon notices you shivering slightly as you sit on the picnic blanket, pulling your knees to your chest.

"You're cold," he says, stating the obvious as he stands up. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."

Before you can protest, he's already pulling you to your feet, his hand warm and firm around yours. He leads you toward a large, flat rock at the edge of the clearing that has been baking in the afternoon sun. It radiates a gentle heat against your bare legs as he positions you to sit on its edge.

But he doesn't sit beside you. Instead, he positions himself directly in front of you, between your legs, his body creating a shield against the evening breeze. The proximity is intoxicating, his bare torso just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that you could lean forward and press your lips against his if you were brave enough, or stupid enough.

"You need a break," he says, his voice lower than it was moments before, his eyes fixed on yours. "After that epic defeat in the water."

"I didn't lose," you retort, but your voice lacks its usual conviction. You're too aware of his hands as they come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, deliberate circles. "It was clearly a tie."

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt," he replies, a small smirk playing on his lips. But his eyes... his eyes are serious, intense, focused on yours with an unwavering gaze that makes your breath catch.

You try to ignore the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his touch sends jolts of electricity through your entire body. You try to focus on the lake, on the sunset, on anything other than the man standing between your legs, looking at you like you're the only person in the world.

But then his hands begin to move.

It's a slow, deliberate journey, his fingers tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your thighs. Higher and higher they go, until they reach the inner curve of your legs. Your breath hitches, your muscles tensing as his fingers continue their exploration, inching ever closer to your most intimate place.

His hands reach the apex of your thighs, his fingers curling around the curve where your legs meet your hips. And then, oh god, his thumb slides inward, the tip of it brushing against the edge of your panties, touching the place where your folds begin through the thin fabric.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, your hips shifting involuntarily. The touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to his touch with an eagerness that betrays your attempts at nonchalance.

Jungwon's eyes darken, his thumb pressing slightly more firmly against you, a silent acknowledgment of your reaction. The air between you grows thick with tension, charged with unspoken desire. You lean in slightly, your lips parting, your entire being focused on the man before you and the hand that's doing unspeakable things to your composure.

And then he pulls away.

Just like that. As if nothing had happened. "We should probably get back to the blanket," he says, his voice completely normal. "I think there are still some cookies left."

You stare at him, your mind reeling, your body still humming with unfulfilled desire. Is he doing this on purpose? Is this some kind of game to him, a way to provoke you, to test your reactions? Or is he really so clueless that he doesn't realize what he's doing to you, doesn't understand the effect his casual touches have on your body, your mind, your heart?

You slide off the rock, your legs feeling shaky beneath you as you follow him back to the picnic blanket. As you dress, you watch him out of the corner of your eye, searching for some sign, some indication of what's going on in that head of his. But he's whistling softly, sorting through the remnants of your picnic, completely at ease.

And you're left wondering, as you have so many times before, whether the tension between you is real or just another product of your overactive imagination.Or whether, just maybe, he's as confused about this as you are.

Jungwon is lying beside you, propped up on one elbow, his hair still wet and curling slightly at the ends. He's got a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through something with casual ease. His phone buzzes, cutting through your thoughts. Jungwon glances at the screen, and his face breaks into a grin.

"Oh, it's Heeseung," he says, already accepting the video call. "I told him I was at the lake. He said he didn't believe me."

Heeseung. The name is familiar, Jungwon's best friend from college, the one he's mentioned a few times in passing. You've never met him, but you've heard enough stories to piece together a rough picture.

"Jungwon!" A voice crackles through the phone speaker, and Jungwon angles the screen so you can see. The guy on the other end is exactly as advertised, sharp jawline, dark eyes, the kind of face that probably breaks hearts without even trying. He's sitting somewhere indoors, a window behind him letting in soft afternoon light. "You actually went to the lake? I thought you were lying."

"Why would I lie about going to a lake?"

"I don't know. To seem more interesting than you actually are?"

"I'm very interesting."

"You read philosophy books for fun. That's not interesting. That's a cry for help."

You snort, and Heeseung's attention immediately snaps to you. "Who's that? Is someone else there?"

"This is Y/N," Jungwon says, tilting the phone toward you. "My childhood best friend. The one I've told you about."

You wave awkwardly at the camera. "Hi. I'm the one who didn't pour coffee on her own head."

Heeseung laughs, and it's a genuine, surprised laugh. "I like her already. She's got better instincts than me."

"Everyone has better instincts than you," Jungwon says. "You're famously bad at decisions."

"I'm famously bad at some decisions. I'm very good at other ones." Heeseung shifts, and in the background of his video, you catch a glimpse of movement. Someone else is in the room with him, a girl, sitting at a desk, her face partially obscured by a laptop screen. She's got headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever she's doing, and there's a colorful highlighter tucked behind her ear.

"Oh, is that-" Jungwon starts, and something in his voice changes. It's subtle, a slight softening, a slight hesitation, but you notice it immediately. You've spent too many years cataloging every nuance of his expressions not to notice.

"Yeah, that's her," Heeseung says, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. "She's studying. Again. I told her it's summer break, but she said, and I quote, the mitochondria doesn't take vacations."

"That sounds like her," Jungwon says, and there's that tone again. That soft, almost wistful tone that makes your stomach clench.

The girl in the background looks up, as if sensing she's being discussed, and Heeseung waves her over. She removes her headphones with a slightly confused expression, and then she's walking toward the camera, and you get your first clear look at her.

She's pretty. Really pretty, in a natural, unassuming way. Round glasses perched on her nose, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing an oversized sweater that looks like it's been through several all-night study sessions. There's something about her expression, a little nervous, a little awkward, but also warm and genuine, that makes you understand immediately why someone might fall for her.

"This is Y/N," Heeseung says to her, gesturing at the phone. "Jungwon's friend."

"Hi, Y/N," the girl says, leaning into the frame. Her smile is slightly shy but sincere. "I've heard a lot about you. Jungwon talks about you all the time."

"All good things, I hope?"

"Mostly good things. He mentioned something about a treehouse incident?"

"I'm not taking responsibility for that. That was entirely his fault."

"It was not entirely my fault," Jungwon protests. "You were the one who wanted to add a second story."

"Because you said you wanted a better view of the stars."

"I was being romantic!"

"You were being delusional. The tree couldn't even support one story, let alone two."

The girl laughs, and Heeseung looks at her with an expression so openly, unguardedly fond that it makes something twist in your chest. That's love. That's real, undeniable, completely transparent love. The kind of love that doesn't hide or apologize or pretend to be something else.

"We should let you guys get back to your picnic," Heeseung says. "I just wanted to confirm that the lake does, in fact, exist."

"Confirmed," Jungwon says. "It's still here. Still wet. Still full of fish."

"Excellent. Very informative." Heeseung grins. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't leave much."

"Exactly."

The call ends, and the screen goes dark. Jungwon sets his phone down on the blanket and reaches for another cookie, completely oblivious to the storm that's just started brewing in your chest.

That's her. The girl from the philosophy elective. The one Jungwon had a crush on for months. The one he talked about in your kitchen with that soft, distant look in his eyes. The one who ended up with his best friend instead of him. And she's... nice. She seems nice. Genuinely nice, not fake nice, not trying-too-hard nice. The kind of nice that makes it impossible to hate her, even though a small, petty part of you really wants to.

"Jungwon?" you say.

"Hmm?"

"That was her, wasn't it? The girl you liked."

He pauses mid-chew, and for a moment, something flickers across his face, surprise, maybe, or the ghost of an old wound. But then it's gone, replaced by a smile that's a little too casual to be entirely genuine.

"Yeah. That was her."

"She seems nice."

"She is." He swallows the cookie and stares out at the lake, his expression unreadable. "She's really nice. She and Heeseung are good together."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'm okay with that." He says it firmly, like he's practiced the words. Like he's said them to himself enough times that they've started to feel true. "It took a while, but... yeah. I'm okay with it. They make each other happy. That's what matters."

You don't know what to say to that. There's a heaviness in his voice that he's trying to hide, and you know him well enough to recognize it. He's not lying, he really is okay with it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still sting. That doesn't mean he doesn't still think about it sometimes, late at night, when the world is quiet and the what-ifs creep in.

"I'm going to take a nap," Jungwon announces, stretching out on the blanket and pillowing his head on his arms. "The sun and the swimming made me tired."

"Okay."

"You should nap too. You look tired."

"I look radiant."

"You look radiantly tired."

"That's not a thing."

"It's a thing now. I invented it." He closes his eyes, and within minutes, his breathing evens out. He's asleep. Just like that. 

You sit there for a while, watching him sleep.

We can't be friends - Ariana Grande now playing

It's strange, seeing him like this. Unguarded. Vulnerable. The tension that he carries in his shoulders has melted away, and his face is relaxed in a way it rarely is when he's awake.

Your eyes trace the familiar lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the sweep of his eyelashes. You know every inch of this face. You've memorized it over fifteen years of glances and gazes and stolen looks. But there's something different about looking at him now. Something heavier. Something that sits in your chest like a stone.

So that's he*, you think. That's the girl who had his heart.

And she's lovely. She's genuinely, painfully lovely. You saw it in the way she smiled, in the way she looked at Heeseung, in the way she clearly has no idea that she was once the center of someone else's entire world. She probably doesn't even know. She probably went about her life, completely unaware that Jungwon spent months pining over her, working up the courage to say something, only to lose his chance because he waited too long.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He waited too long. He liked her and he didn't say anything, and by the time he was ready, it was too late. Someone else had already stepped in. Someone bolder, someone braver, someone who didn't wait.

But he's not like that anymore. You've seen the change in him. The confidence. The ease. The way he carries himself like someone who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to go after it. He told you himself, after that whole situation, he decided to stop waiting. To start living. To explore his youth and put himself out there and not let opportunities pass him by.

She did that. That girl, with her round glasses and her messy ponytail and her complete, oblivious unawareness of the effect she had on him, she changed him. She's the reason he started hooking up with people in college. She's the reason he bought condoms and learned how to kiss properly and became the kind of person who presses other people against freezers and claims ownership of their hair.

You should be grateful to her. In a weird, twisted way, she's the reason Jungwon is who he is now, more confident, more assertive, more willing to go after what he wants. But all you feel is a hot, jealous knot in your stomach that you can't seem to untangle.

What does she have that you don't?

The thought surfaces before you can stop it, ugly and uninvited. You push it down, but it keeps rising back up, persistent and sharp.

What does she have that you don't? You've known Jungwon your entire life. You've been there for every scraped knee, every broken bone, every triumph and every failure. You know the exact way he takes his coffee and the name of every pet he's ever had and the song he listens to when he's sad. You've seen him at his worst and at his best, and you've loved every version of him.

And yet. And yet.

When he talks about her, there's still a softness in his voice. When he looked at her on that video call, there was still a flicker of something, not longing, exactly, but memory. The ghost of a feeling that was once very real. And you've never had that. You've never been the person Jungwon looked at like that. You've never been the person he pined over, the person he wrote letters to, the person he stayed up late thinking about.

You're just Y/N. His childhood best friend. The person he carries around in the lake and ruffles the hair of and tells all his secrets to, but never, ever looks at the way you want him to.

"It's not fair," you whisper, and your voice is so quiet it barely disturbs the air. "What does she have that I don't?"

The question hangs there, unanswered, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You look down at Jungwon, still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the turmoil churning inside you. His lips are slightly parted. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. There's a piece of cookie crumb on his chin that he missed when he wiped his mouth earlier.

You reach out and brush it away, your fingers lingering against his skin for just a moment longer than necessary.

"I've been here the whole time," you murmur. "I've always been here."

He doesn't stir. He doesn't hear you. Maybe that's for the best.

You lean down, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft. Barely there. The kind of kiss that could be dismissed as friendly if anyone saw, but is secretly, desperately not. Your lips brush against the warmth of his skin, and you close your eyes, and for just one moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he woke up and looked at you the way Heeseung looked at that girl. Like you were the center of his universe. Like you were the reason he existed.

But he doesn't wake up. And the moment passes.

You pull back, your heart aching, and you lie down beside him on the blanket. The sun is still warm, and the breeze is still gentle, and the lake is still lapping against the shore. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.

You close your eyes, and you let sleep take you, and the last thing you feel before you drift off is the warmth of his body next to yours, close, but not close enough. Always, always, not close enough.

You wake up to the gentle hum of an engine and the soft pressure of something warm draped over your body.

It takes you a moment to orient yourself. You're not on the picnic blanket anymore. You're not by the lake. You're in a car, Jungwon's car, you recognize the air freshener and the one-eyed bear in the backseat, and someone has covered you with a jacket. Your jacket. The one you'd left in the backseat this morning.

Outside the window, your house is silhouetted against the dusky evening sky. The porch light is on. Your mom's car is in the driveway. Everything is exactly as you left it this morning, and yet nothing feels the same.

You push yourself upright, blinking sleep from your eyes, and that's when you notice Jungwon. He's not in the driver's seat. He's outside the car, leaning against the hood with his arms crossed, staring up at the sky. The first stars are starting to appear, and his profile is illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. He looks pensive. Distant. Like he's been standing there for a while, lost in thoughts he doesn't want to share.

You open the car door, and the sound makes him turn. His expression shifts immediately, the pensiveness replaced by that familiar, warm smile. But there's something tired about it tonight. Something that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he says. "You were out cold. I didn't want to wake you."

"You carried me to the car?"

"You were dead weight. It wasn't that hard."

"I'm average height."

"You're fun-sized."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. You're too busy processing the fact that he carried you from the lake to the car. That he wrapped you in your jacket and drove you home and then waited outside, in the cooling evening air, just so you could sleep a little longer.

"Thank you," you say, and your voice comes out softer than you intended. "For today. For... all of it."

"It was nothing." He shrugs, but his smile is genuine. "I had fun. It was like old times."

Old times. Right. Because that's what this was to him. Just another memory in the long, unbroken chain of your friendship. Nothing more.

He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, the same casual, affectionate touch that used to feel so natural and now feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Get some rest," he says, already turning toward the driver's side. "I'll see you tomor-"

"Wait."

The word escapes before you can stop it. He pauses, his hand on the car door, his head tilted in confusion.

"What's up?"

Your heart is pounding. Your palms are sweating. Every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to let him go, to swallow your feelings, to keep pretending that everything is fine. But you're tired of pretending. You're tired of hiding. You're tired of watching him walk away and wondering what would happen if you just said the words you've been holding back for weeks.

"I need to tell you something," you say, and your voice is steadier than you feel. "And I need you to let me finish before you say anything. Can you do that?"

Jungwon's expression flickers, confusion, concern, something else you can't quite name. But he nods. "Okay. I'm listening."

You take a deep breath. The evening air is cool against your flushed cheeks. The streetlamp buzzes softly overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. The world keeps turning, oblivious to the fact that you're about to upend everything.

Earrings - Malcolm Todd now playing

"I like you," you say.

The words hang in the air between you.

"I don't mean like a friend. I don't mean like a brother. I mean... I like you. I have feelings for you. And I've been trying to ignore them, and I've been trying to move on, and I've been telling myself that you don't see me that way and I should just accept it, but I can't. Not anymore. Not after everything that's happened."

Jungwon is completely still. His hand has dropped from the car door. His face is unreadable.

"I know you probably don't feel the same way," you continue, the words tumbling out faster now, a dam that's finally broken. "And that's fine. That's... I mean, it's not fine, but I'll deal with it. I just couldn't keep pretending. I couldn't keep acting like everything was normal when it's not. Not for me."

The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity. When Jungwon finally speaks, his voice is careful. Measured. Like he's choosing every word with deliberate precision.

"Y/N... I think you're confused."

"I'm not confused."

"You've been through a lot lately. The stress of college, being back home, all the changes, it's natural to latch onto familiar feelings and mistake them for something else. But what you're feeling isn't-"

"Don't." Your voice comes out sharper than you intended. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling. I know what I feel. I've known for weeks. Maybe longer. Maybe I've known for years and I just didn't have the words for it until now."

"Y/N-"

"I like you, Jungwon. I want to be with you. Not as your childhood friend. Not as your sister figure. As a woman who wants to be with a man. That's what this is."

He flinches. Actually flinches, like the words have physically struck him. "You don't mean that."

"I do mean it. I've never meant anything more in my life."

"You can't-" He stops, runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that you've seen a thousand times. "You can't just say that. You can't just drop that on me and expect-"

"Expect what? For you to feel the same way? I already told you, I know you probably don't. But I had to say it. I had to be honest with you, because that's what we've always been. Honest. And I've been lying to you for weeks, and I couldn't do it anymore."

Jungwon is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost pained. "I can't return your feelings."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew they were coming. You prepared for them. But knowing and hearing are two different things, and the sound of them, the finality of them knocks the breath from your lungs.

"I don't see you that way," he continues. "I've never seen you that way. You're my best friend. You're the most important person in my life. But I can't...I don't-"

"You don't see me as a woman."

"I see you as Y/N. My Y/N. The person who's been by my side since I was six years old. And I can't risk that. I can't risk us."

"Risk us?" You hear your voice rising, the hurt transforming into something hotter. Something angrier. "What about the mixed signals? What about the way you held me in the lake? What about the convenience store, when you told that guy not to touch my hair because it was yours? What was that, Jungwon? Was that just friendship too?"

His jaw tightens. "That was different."

"Different how?"

"That was... I don't know. Instinct. I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't thinking." You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Right. Of course. You never think. You just do things and say things and then pretend they don't mean anything. Just like the closet in high school. Just like my bedroom last week. Just like everything."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" You step closer to him, your eyes blazing. "Let me ask you something. Honestly. Do you still have feelings for her? That girl? The one from the video call?"

Jungwon blinks, clearly thrown by the shift in topic. "What? No. I told you, I'm over that. She's with Heeseung. They're happy. I'm happy for them."

"Then what is it? If you're over her, and you're out there hooking up with other people, then what's so different about me? Why can't you see me the way you see them? Am I not attractive enough? Am I not-"

"Stop." His voice is sharp, sharper than you've ever heard it. "Don't do that. Don't compare yourself to anyone else. This isn't about you not being enough. This is about-"

"About what?"

"About the fact that you're the only thing in my life that's ever been mine!" The words burst out of him like a dam breaking, and suddenly he's not the calm, measured Jungwon anymore. His eyes are bright, his hands shaking slightly at his sides. "Do you understand that? You're it. You're the one thing I've always had. When my parents were fighting, when school was hell, when I was sitting in my dorm room at college feeling like I didn't belong anywhere, I always had you. You were always there. And I can't lose that. I can't."

"So you'd rather keep me as a friend than risk having me as something more?"

"Yes." The word is quiet but firm. "Yes. Because if we tried and it didn't work...if we broke up, if we hurt each other...I wouldn't just lose a girlfriend. I'd lose everything. I'd lose my best friend. I'd lose the person who knows me better than anyone. I'd lose fifteen years of history and memories and-" His voice cracks. "I can't do that. I won't."

"You're a coward," you say, and your voice comes out quieter than you expected. Softer. Almost sad.

Jungwon flinches. "Y/N-"

"No. You are. You're a coward. You've always been a coward. You liked that girl for months and never said anything, and someone else got to her first. And now you're doing the same thing again. You're so scared of losing what we have that you won't even consider the possibility of something more." You swallow hard, the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "You said you changed. You said after that whole situation, you decided to stop waiting and start living. But you haven't changed at all. You're still the same guy who waits too long and lets things slip away because he's too scared to take a risk."

"Please," he says, and his voice is raw, desperate. "Please don't do this. We can still be friends. We can go back to how things were. Nothing has to change."

"I don't want to be friends!" The words tear out of you, loud and broken. "That's the whole point! I don't want to be your friend anymore! I want to be more! I want you to look at me the way you looked at her! I want you to touch me like you mean it and not pretend it was nothing afterward! I want to be the person you think about when you can't sleep at night! But I'm not! I'm never going to be! Because you won't let me!"

Tears are streaming down your face now, hot and unstoppable. You don't bother wiping them away.

"I have been here," you say, your voice cracking. "I have been here for fifteen years. I was here when you failed your first math test. I was here when you got your heart broken for the first time. I was here when you needed someone to talk to at 3 AM. And I've been here this whole summer, watching you, wanting you, and you didn't even notice. You never notice."

Jungwon's face crumples. "I notice," he whispers. "I notice everything about you. That's the problem."

"Then what is it?" You step closer, your chest tight with frustration and hurt and the desperate need to understand. "You've been giving me mixed signals since I got back. The way you look at me. The way you touch me. The convenience store. The lake. Carrying me around in the water with your hands all over me. What am I supposed to think?"

"I wasn't...I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to what? Lead me on? Make me think there was something there when there wasn't?"

Jungwon's face crumples, and for the first time in this conversation, he looks genuinely stricken. "I wasn't trying to lead you on. I was just... being myself. That's how I've always been with you."

"Maybe that's the problem." Your voice cracks, and you hate it. You hate that he's seeing you like this. "Maybe you've always been like this with me, and I've just been too blind to notice that it doesn't mean anything to you. But it means something to me. It means everything to me."

"Y/N..."

"You know what I hate the most?" You're crying, tears spilling down your cheeks, hot and uninvited. "I hate her. That girl from the video call. I hate her so much it makes me sick."

"That's not fair. She didn't do anything-"

"I know she didn't do anything! That's what makes it worse!" The words are pouring out of you now, unstoppable. "She didn't do anything except exist, and she still managed to change you. She's the reason you're like this now. She's the reason you decided to stop waiting and start living. She's the reason you bought condoms and hooked up with people and became this whole new version of yourself. And I...I've been here the whole time. I've been here for fifteen years, and I've never been able to make you look at me the way you looked at her."

"Y/N, please-"

"You've known her for what, a few months? And she got to have your heart. She got to be the one who changed you. And I've been here since we were kids, and I've never...I've never been anything more than your best friend.. The person you carry around and ruffle the hair of and tell all your secrets to, but never, ever look at the way I want you to."

The tears are falling faster now, and you can barely see his face through the blur. You wipe at your eyes furiously, angry at yourself for crying, angry at him for making you cry, angry at the whole stupid universe for putting you in this situation.

"I've always been here," you whisper. "I've always been yours. And you've never once seen me."

Jungwon's composure cracks. His eyes are wet, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he's trying very hard to hold himself together and failing. When he speaks, his voice is raw in a way you've never heard before.

"You asked what she had that you don't? Nothing. She had nothing that you don't. But she was safe. She was someone I could have a crush on from a distance and then let go when it didn't work out. But you...you're not safe. You're not distant. You're under my skin and in my bones and wrapped around every part of who I am. And if I let myself feel what I'm afraid I might feel for you, and it goes wrong..."

He stops, his voice breaking. A tear slips down his cheek, and he doesn't bother to wipe it away.

"I can't lose you," he says quietly. "I would rather have you as a friend for the rest of my life than risk losing you entirely."

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The street is quiet. The stars are starting to come out. And then you shake your head.

"We can figure this out. We can-"

"No. You don't get to have it both ways. You don't get to reject me and then ask me to stay exactly the same. That's not fair."

"Please." His voice cracks, and he reaches for your hand. "Please don't do this. You're too important to me. Our friendship is too important."

"Goodnight, Jungwon," you say.

"Y/N, wait-"

But you're already walking away. Already climbing the steps to your front porch. Already reaching for the door handle with hands that won't stop shaking.

You don't look back. You can't. If you look back, you'll break completely.

The front door closes behind you with a soft click, and you lean against it, pressing your palms to your face, and you let the tears come. All the tears you've been holding back for weeks. All the feelings you've been pretending not to have. They pour out of you in great, heaving sobs that shake your entire body.

You understand. God help you, you understand. He's scared. He's been scared his whole life, scared of losing people, scared of taking risks, scared of wanting something too much and having it slip through his fingers. He looks at you and sees everything he's afraid to lose, and instead of reaching for more, he's clinging to what he already has.

But understanding doesn't make it hurt less. Understanding doesn't fill the hollow ache in your chest or stop the tears from falling or make you forget the way his face looked when you walked away.

You don't know how long you sit there. The house stays quiet. The stars wheel overhead. And somewhere out there, on the street in front of your house, Jungwon is still standing by his car, staring at the door you just closed, hoping you'll come back out.

But you don't. And eventually, he leaves.

[honey4hoonie]

Jealousy Jealousy

|fake dating! Jungwon x f!reader|

|warnings: porn with plot! Smut! Mdni! Unprotected sex, oral sex, mentions of drinking, jealous!won, rough sex, kind of switch Jungwon but not really, overstimulation, munch!won|

|synopsis: in which you ask your roommate to be your fake boyfriend to get some coworkers off your back, only for him to get real jealous when a certain coworker won’t leave you alone.|

|word count: 12k|

Asking your roommate to pretend to be your boyfriend for a work holiday party definitely wasn’t the most awkward conversation on record for you, but it was up there. If there was a ranking it would easily make the top ten with the way Jungwon’s eyes bulge out of his head at your proposal. Proposal was generous, really you were begging him to agree after boasting about your nonexistent loving boyfriend in front of nosy coworkers. 

Truthfully it wasn’t meant to go this far, subtly mentioning you had a boyfriend was your way of getting one of your coworkers, Jay, to tone down the flirting. Jay was a nice guy, incredibly attractive, and a gentleman above all else. He had shown an interest in you for quite some time but you could never see him that way. You tried to dismiss him without being rude but he never did quite get the hint. Until today, that is, when the words, “I have a boyfriend” slipped past your lips without considering the repercussions for a statement such as that. 

By lunch your entire department knew of this boyfriend and you were being questioned to no end. Your coworkers didn’t mean any harm, not really, your office building could get so boring and mundane on a Tuesday afternoon, what else is there to do but gossip? You managed to avoid certain questions until they practically begged you to bring him to the annual holiday party. 

The entire drive home you considered every possible way out of this, you considered not going to the party altogether, feigning sickness or telling them your boyfriend was to spend the holidays with his family back home. Whilst believable, you knew the nosy older ladies in your office would only ask for pictures and more details afterward. 

It wasn’t until you got home, finding Jungwon sitting on the couch already in his pjs watching some old action movie, the kind that had cartoon-like sound effects and funny studio lighting, that the idea popped into your head. Anything after that was pure word vomit of this master plan that could possibly end up messier than it was worth. 

“Please, Jungwon, you’re my only hope! My only other close guy friends are Jake and Sunghoon. Jake works in the same office as me, everyone in our office has seen us together and no one is going to believe we’re dating. It’ll just be messier in the long run! And Sunghoon has a girlfriend!” You clasped your hands to your chest, pouting slightly to express the distress in your tone. 

“Why can’t you just tell them your boyfriend can’t make it?” He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees as if in deep thought. 

“They’ll only ask for pictures after, if I bring someone to the party with me that’ll be proof enough. They can meet you, ask whatever they want to ask. We just have to lie for one night and it will all die down after that. Please?” 

Jungwon looked up at you, his eyes studied your own and you can sense the hesitation in them. The two of you were not only roommates, you’ve been very close friends for years. Your best friend from college, Sunoo, introduced you once you were looking to move into the city. You were searching for a place to stay and Sunoo knew his friend, Jungwon, was looking for a roommate. Everything worked out pretty well after that, you moved in and now here you were nearly three years later. 

“I don’t know y/n this could get complicated.” His eyebrows knitted together in that unfairly attractive way they always did when he was deep in thought. A characteristic you had hidden in that little folder in the back of your mind along with other things about Jungwon that you pretend not to notice. 

“Come on, you have literally nothing to lose. You will never have to see these people again, if anyone has to deal with the consequences it’s me at work.” 

Jungwon looked over you again, noting the way your lips pushed outwards in an annoyingly adorable pout, he wished he could say no to you. 

“Fine, just one dumb holiday party.” 

The night of the party came by a lot faster than you were prepared for. With you being swamped at work and Jungwon constantly in and out of the studio, the two of you barely had any time to work out how you would go about this. 

It seemed simple enough but you knew you had to at least come up with one solid storyline for this to be believable. Which is how you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Jungwon's car as he drove to the party, fingers tugging at the hem of your festive patterned sweater, asking the most ridiculous questions for the sake of preparing yourself for tonight. 

“I don’t think they’re gonna ask us which side of the bed we sleep on, y/n.” He chuckled, gripping the steering wheel with his right hand as his left forearm rests on the door. 

“You don’t know that! You are seriously underestimating how nosy some of my coworkers can be.” 

Jungwon shook his head, not bothering to hide the amused grin playing at his lips. “Okay, let’s just keep it simple, hmm? We met through a mutual friend, started off as roommates then friends and about let’s say…four months ago we started dating. If they ask why you haven’t mentioned me before, just say you didn’t want to say anything until you were sure we were serious. We’re already best friends so we know a lot about each other, just stick as close to the truth as possible. Oh and I sleep on the right side of the bed, the one closest to the door. Always.” 

You couldn’t help but stare at him in awe, he seemed so calm about this as if it was normal to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend. Maybe you were over complicating things, surely this wouldn’t be too different from your normal life, you and Jungwon were already very close, talking about him and acting comfortable around him is second nature to you. 

“Okay, lets keep the pda to a minimum though, I’ll stand by your side, maybe you can place your hand on my back or hold my hand occasionally, we shouldn’t over do it.” You added, nodding to yourself. 

Jungwon raised an eyebrow in your direction, turning to face you momentarily before looking back onto the road. Without hesitation he switches the hand on the wheel, his left hand taking over and his now free right hand travels down to hold your own two hands that were still pulling at loose threads of your sweater. The sudden contact made you flinch, your eyes darting up to his in search of an explanation. 

The corner of his lips lift upward into another amused smirk, “No one is going to believe we’re boyfriend and girlfriend if you flinch every time I touch you.” He says matter-of-factly. 

“I won't, I just wasn’t expecting it.” You try to defend yourself. He squeezes your hand once.

“That’s the point, baby.” He replies, the grin on his lips never faltering. 

“Baby?” Your eyes widen again in shock although your mind is still very much aware of his hand still on yours. 

“Sorry, do you prefer princess? Maybe sweetheart? My love?” Jungwon laughs this time, slightly throwing his head back as he enters the parking garage for your building. 

“Very funny.” You shove his hand off of you, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Come on, we’ve got a long night to get through.” He pats your knee once as he parks into a spot. He’s quick to get out of the car, walking over to your side to open your door and extend a hand out for you to take. 

“You ready, darling?” He winks as he throws another pet name at you just as you grab his hand. “Be good, Jungwon.” 

“That’s Wonie to you.” He smiles again, turning to walk beside you with his hand placed comfortably on the small of your back as you walk into the building together. 

The two of you make your way into the building, heading for the large conference room that was turned into a makeshift party room for the night. The team at HR helped decorate the room to make it feel as lively and inviting as four white walls and a bland carpeted floor could muster. 

All eyes were on you the second you walked in. Well, really, they were on the man standing behind you. Jungwon was the kind of man to demand attention in any room he entered, regardless of who his real or pretend girlfriend was at the time. 

You lasted all but fifteen seconds before the group of ladies standing around the refreshments table circled around you. “There you are! y/n, this must be your boyfriend, introduce us!” 

Jungwon only smiles as you introduce him to the older women, his hand finds its way around your waist in an almost possessive manner. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about all of you.” Which is true, after countless nights coming home from work just to rant over a glass of wine with a very tired Jungwon, he didn’t have to lie regarding that. 

“We haven’t heard nearly enough about you! Tell us, how long have you been together?” Then came the flood of questions and comments,

“Do you two live together?” 

“Who asked who out first?” 

“You’re such an attractive couple!”

“The flowers you sent her last week were beautiful!” 

Jungwon's eyebrows perk up at the last comment, sparing a glance down to you in question. You had forgotten all about that, those flowers were one of the main reasons you found yourself in this mess. The beautiful array of roses had been an early Christmas gift from Jay, as printed on the small card placed neatly against the bouquet. No one had seen who they were from so you threw out the card, left your office to reject his affections once again in the nicest way possible just as you had several times before. Only this time you found yourself saying you had a boyfriend. 

Jay was more than surprised, you had never even shown signs of having a partner before that day. You kept the flowers at your desk, not really knowing what to do with them and somehow that led to the entire office assuming you had a boyfriend as well. 

One of the ladies from the front desk smiled, “Yes, those roses were gorgeous, I saw when they got delivered. They got to her office before she did in the morning.” 

Jungwon grinned but slowly shook his head, “I’m sure they were but I’m afraid I can’t take credit for those. I wasn’t the one to send her those flowers, if I was I would’ve known to send her hydrangeas, those are her favorite.” He squeezes at your waist, pulling you closer as a sign of affection in front of the others. 

The ladies swooned momentarily, as did you before you caught yourself. Your eyes widened, right hand coming up to rest against his chest as you smiled up at him adoringly. You had mentioned it in passing surely, living together for almost three years there’s a lot he probably knows about you that you don’t realize and vice versa. Still, the casual mention of your favorite flower along with his nearly imperceptible possessive tone is enough to make your breath hitch. 

“Well, if that wasn't you then who was it?” 

You shrug, “Not sure, they were beautiful though. But Jungwon’s right, he’s always gotten me hydrangeas, I instantly knew they weren’t from him.” The lie spills past your lips all too easily just as you notice Jay walking up to you, a drink in one hand as his other rests in his pocket. 

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, I’m Jay.” He holds his hand out before Jungwon, plastering an award winning grin on his face. You had given Jungwon the run down on Jay and his flirtations so he was more than prepared for this interaction. 

“Nice to meet you man, I’m Jungwon.” He shakes his hand, matching his smile without ever letting go of your waist. Some of the ladies had dispersed now, making small talk conversation around you whilst still being within earshot. 

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind me keeping your girl late some nights, that Taiwan proposal was very demanding, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without her.” Jay’s expression is charming but his tone is striking, you hadn’t expected him to play it like this. Jay had always been a gentleman toward you, sure a bit insistent with this flirting but he had never crossed a line as broadly as this before. 

Jungwon doesn’t seem phased, almost like he was expecting this from the start, his grin only widens. 

“Don’t worry about it, my girl is the best at what she does. I don't blame you for asking for her help.” He smirks at him, you can feel the way Jungwon’s fingers flex against your hip. “And besides, it worked out perfect on nights I’d get back late from the studio. Usually I get home way later than her so on those rare chances we get home at the same time, we definitely take advantage to spend more time together before bed. I should be thanking you, really.” The innuendo isn’t missed on either of you, the smirk on Jungwon’s face says it all. 

You have to hold back a laugh as Jay’s jaw clenches, his grip on his glass tightens. In contrast, Jungwon looks the picture of calm. “You want a drink, baby?” He turns to look at you but your eyes are already on him. He waits for you to nod before turning back to Jay, “If you’ll excuse us.”

The two of you manage to find a table after grabbing some wine, taking a seat next to each other. You cross your legs, turning to face Jungwon just as his hand casually  comes to rest over your legs, holding you in place. This proximity and casual touching was becoming more and more normal as time went on.

“That was perfect.” You whispered to him with a smile. You turned, expecting him to be smiling with you but instead his jaw was set, eyes focused on one corner of the room. You follow his eyes, finding Jay conversing with another associate from a different department. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“That’s the asshole that won’t leave you alone?” His voice is quiet but stern. 

“He’s not all bad, really. He’s usually more composed than that, I really don’t know where that came from.” It’s true, Jay's sudden change of character upon seeing you with Jungwon was unexpected. He had always been so kind and proper you wouldn’t have guessed he’d be the type of guy to subtly challenge someone's boyfriend. 

“Looks pretty bad from where I’m sitting. He ever make you feel uncomfortable?” His eyes turn to you then, all serious and protective you almost let yourself fall into the immersive role of him being the jealous boyfriend. 

You shake your head, “Nothing like that, he gets flirty but it’s never inappropriate. I’ve tried shutting him down before but it’s my fault for not being as stern as I should’ve been. That’s why I told him I had a boyfriend, I thought he would surely back off then.” 

“Any respectable guy can tell when a woman isn’t into him, if he was as kind as you say he would’ve taken the first hint and it wouldn’t have had to go this far. Now he’s threatening me, knowing I’m your boyfriend.” He takes a sip of his wine then, his sharp jawline poking out as he swallows down the scarlet liquid. 

Boyfriend. Not fake boyfriend, just boyfriend. He said it so definitively, you couldn’t bring yourself to correct him. 

“He crossed a line, let’s just hope he gets the hint now, yeah?” Jungwon nods in agreement, hand squeezing your knee softly in reassurance. 

The night seems to go by pretty quickly after that, you converse with some coworkers, Jungwon constantly at your side while you do, occasionally jumping into the conversation whenever prompted to. 

It was about an hour before midnight, most people had gone home by then, you and Jungwon found yourselves talking to Jake about some mutual friends you have when Jungwon received a phone call. 

“One second, baby, it’s Heeseung from the studio. I'll be right back.” He informs, pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of your head before walking out into the hallway. You almost freeze at the contact, despite him having his arm around you all night, the kiss was unexpected. You recovered quickly though as Jake continued the conversation as though everything was normal, though you guess for him it was. 

The silence of the hallway provided Jungwon a moment to speak with Heeseung, he called about an upcoming meeting and new deadlines for a client. A new artist they’re working with requested a change in their sound, this would set back their work by at least a week. Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, groaning at the news. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine I’ll stay late tomorrow if I have to. We’ll scrap what we got. Cool, thanks.” 

The call ends and just as Jungwon is about to turn back into the conference room he finds Jay leaning against the wall with a glass of some dark liquor in his hand.

“Hey man, look I don’t like getting involved in stuff but I just wanted to let you know man to man,” Jungwon raised an eyebrow in question at the man, who clearly looked like he had one drink too many, “Your girl has been flirting with me for a while, I mean she’s clearly into me. She only told me she had a boyfriend a couple days ago. Just looking out man, who knows what would’ve happened between us if she had never mentioned you.” The smirk on the man's face tells Jungwon exactly what he thinks would have happened. 

An ugly, angry, feeling stems deep in Jungwon’s chest, he feels his jaw clench. If only Jay knew how you would have never allowed that, how he would never allow that. 

“Is that so? Because what I heard is that you have continued to bother my girlfriend despite her telling you over and over again that she’s not interested. She didn’t tell you about me because it’s none of your business, she only chose to tell you hoping you’d finally get the hint but it seems you still don’t get it, huh?” Jungwon stares him down, eyeing the drink in his hand and how Jay clutches the glass. 

“If you’ll excuse me I have to get back to my girlfriend, I would appreciate it if you left her alone from now on but hey, thanks for looking out.” Jungwon walks past him with a grin, patting his shoulder as he does. 

Back inside the room, he returns to your side instantly, jumping right back into the conversation between you and Jake like he never left.

Another half hour or so passes before you squeeze Jungwon's arm, deciding to call it a night. “We should go, Jungwon’s got work tomorrow and I’m getting pretty tired, right, love?” You look up at him with pleading eyes and Jungwon only smiles warmly in return, nodding. 

“Yeah we should head home. Jake, man, it was really great to meet you, I’ve heard great things, we should meet again.” He goes to shake his hand which your coworker happily takes, “Likewise, we should all get drinks one night, I’ll introduce you to my friend Riki. I think you two would really get along.” Jungwon nods happily and you bid your goodbyes to the rest of them. 

Jungwon doesn’t let go of you the entire walk to his car, opening the door for you and only letting go once you sit down. 

“I don’t like that Jay guy, you’ll let me know if he bothers you again, yeah?” He says after a few moments of silence on the drive home. 

“I don’t think he will but yes I promise I will let you know if he does. Is everything okay, did he say something else to you?” You study him, the way he grips the steering wheel with both hands he clearly looks bothered by something. 

He hesitates, you can pinpoint the exact moment his body slightly tense and his jaw clenches. “It’s not important, I think he finally got the hint but if he says anything or makes you feel uncomfortable just let me know.” You nod along, knowing better than to argue with Jungwon when he gets like this. 

When his voice drops an octave or two and his eyebrows strain together in a focused gaze, he was so stern like this and it’s very rare he used that tone on you so you weren’t about to push your luck. 

“I’ll tell you, I promise.” You reach over the center console to softly squeeze his arm in assurance. Jungwon tenses under your touch, feeling the ugly feeling from earlier return deep in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure what to call it yet and he was still trying to decide whether he liked it or not.

The following weeks after the holiday party were shadowed by a tense cloud that seemed to hover over your shared apartment with Jungwon. He’s been working day in and day out thanks to changes with their client and the label. You barely saw him at all, sometimes you’d cook dinner and leave him a sticky note on the fridge, if you were lucky you’d wake up to a missing tupperware and a response on the same note stating, “thank you.” 

You weren’t much better off either, you were tasked to work on another proposal with Jay for an international deal that was currently putting you through the ringer. If the stress of the workload wasn’t enough, working with Jay now was no walk in the park. He was less flirty than before but even now you continue to catch him staring at you with dark eyes. It’s a bit unsettling, the other day you hadn’t realized your skirt had ridden up slightly until you felt the burn on his gaze onto your skin. 

He also continues to ask about your reservation for the company gala coming up, surely wanting to know if Jungwon will be there. Each time he asks, you avoid the question, you haven’t mentioned the gala to Jungwon and you don’t intend to. He’s been so busy with work there’s no way you would bother him with your nonsense right now, you were sure to survive one night without him. 

With the gala just over a week away work was piling and deadlines were nearing. Thankfully you had somehow managed to leave the office at a reasonable time today, slipping into the elevator before Jay could keep you later under the guise of unnecessary modifications for your proposal. It was only 6:30pm by the time you got home, the earliest you’ve returned all week. 

You hadn’t expected to find Jungwon in the kitchen, serving himself some pizza he happened to buy from your favorite place. 

“Whoa, hey, you’re back early. Good you can eat while it’s still hot.” He greets you with a smile, despite barely seeing each other since the party there was no awkward tension between you. Things may have gotten quiet around you but never awkward, Jungwon wouldn’t let that happen. 

The smell of the fresh pizza was enough to have you drooling before you finished taking off your shoes. Jungwon was already serving you a plate along with a soda. He set your plates down on the dining table, waiting for you before taking a bite of his slice. 

“How was work?” He breaks the silence first. “Exhausting, I’m all over the place recently.” You sigh, biting into the pizza. 

“Is that why you forgot to mention the gala your company is hosting?” He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking slightly due to the look of surprise on your face. 

“How did you know about that?” 

“I bumped into Jake yesterday, he mentioned the gala and said you’ve been so busy with your project that you haven’t submitted your rsvp so he just marked you down for a plus one, he said he expected to see me there.” The look on his face tells you he’s not at all bothered by this information but still you find yourself wanting to apologize. 

“Jungwon, I am so sorry I dragged you into this, I’ll come up with some excuse, I’ll say you got sick or had to go into work.” You’re already shaking your head, coming up with a dozen different believable excuses so Jungwon won’t have to be involved again. You had promised this ruse would only be for one night, that was all he agreed to.

But Jungwon was already shaking his head before you could finish your sentence, “Why would you do that? Your boyfriend should attend this gala, I hear you might get an award.” 

Boyfriend, once again missing the ‘fake’ in front of it. And once again you don’t find yourself correcting him.

“Jake really told you everything, huh?” You scoffed to which Jungwon only nodded, “Yup, wish it would’ve come from you though. Were you not planning on inviting me?” 

“Jungwon, our agreement was that you pretended to be my boyfriend for the holiday party, remember? I don’t think we need to continue, they know you exist, they saw you once, that’s enough.” 

The brunette across from you hums, “Is that Jay guy still bothering you?” 

You hesitate, teeth pressing down on your lower lip before you speak, “Not really.” 

“That’s a yes, I’m going. My job clearly isn’t done if that guy still thinks he has a chance with you.” 

It was decided then, Jungwon left no room to argue. The following week passed and before you knew it you were slipping into a beautiful dark floor length gown. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to zip up the rest of your dress but not being able to reach on your own. Your hair and makeup were already set, jewelry highlighting your soft skin. 

Jungwon was waiting for you in the living room, he had been ready for at least thirty minutes now but he knew better than to rush you. 

Accepting defeat you huff, holding the dress in place before calling out his name in the quiet of your apartment. Almost instantly, three soft knocks are heard at your bedroom door. 

“Come in, I can’t zip this up, could you help me?” You ask just as the door creaks open. Jungwon all but freezes at your doorway, eyes sliding down the length of your body and your exposed back. You felt a heat wash over yourself under the heavy weight of his gaze. 

“Jungwon?” Your tone was breathless, not wanting to disturb whatever hovered in the distance between you. Jungwon cleared his throat, taking soft hesitant steps toward you before standing behind you. Your eyes meet his through the reflection of your full body mirror. He doesn’t say a word as his fingers trail down the length of your back, tracing the zipper until they grasp the end. His eyes follow the zipper as he closes it, watching the pieces of fabric connect to cover your soft skin. Once it’s fully closed you adjust your hair back, letting it drape down your back. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is shaky, you’re sure he catches it too but he doesn’t say anything about it. “You look beautiful.” As if compelled to do so, Jungwon presses a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, surprising himself just as much as you. 

“Thank you, you look handsome tonight.” Jungwon was an attractive man, so attractive that you almost refused the offer to move in with him because you knew you wouldn’t be able to put that aside. It’s very rare that he dresses up like this though, suit and tie with his hair styled neatly in a way that exposes his forehead. His lips curved into a shy smile at your complement, hand coming down to squeeze your waist before taking a step back. The newfound distance provides you with room to breathe. 

“Ready to go?” You nod along and soon thereafter the two of you find yourself in an extravagant ballroom. Your company hosts this gala every year to honor its associates and partners. This year in particular you and Jay were nominated for an award for your work on the Taiwan deal. It was a high honor and whilst you were incredibly grateful, you weren’t prepared to share a table with Jay because of it. 

The seating charts had you and Jungwon in a large round table along with Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon with his girlfriend. Sunghoon didn’t directly work for your company but he was a representative for a loyal partnering company. You have worked together so often at this point you consider him a friend just as you did Jake. You have met his girlfriend, Sooha, a couple times too so seeing her was always a plus. 

“Jungwon, y/n! Nice to see you guys.” Jake smiled, standing up from his seat to greet you. Jungwon keeps one hand on the small of your back, the other shakes Jake's hand. “Great to see you again, Jake.” 

“Sunghoon, Sooha, this is my boyfriend, Jungwon. Jungwon, this is Sunghoon and his girlfriend.” You introduce them, greeting the two kindly. Sooha smiles at you and gives you a brief hug as the men shake hands. 

“Hello, Jay, you know Jungwon.” You force your lips into a tight smile. Jay nods, lifting his glass in greeting. The six of you find your seats again, Sunghoon starting a conversation instantly about some new project his company is starting but the work talk only lasts a couple minutes before Sooha leans closer to you, tilting her lips up in a smirk. 

“You look gorgeous tonight, you two make an attractive couple.” Sooha smiles at you. A warmth colors your cheeks, “Thank you, that’s kind of you. I’m glad I could finally introduce him to you guys.” 

Sunghoon turns to look at you then, “Me too, I can’t lie I was a little surprised, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” Sooha nods in agreement, “Yeah me neither, I had no idea.” 

“Oh you weren’t the only one.” Jay adds, his tone is bitter as he lifts his glass to his lips, eyes elsewhere. You can feel Jungwon tense beside you, out of reflex your hand rests over his own on the table. 

“Oh come on, I wasn’t surprised. With all due respect, y/n is stunning. I knew there was no way she was single, respectfully of course.” Jake shares, his eyes travel to Jungwon’s as if showing he meant no harm, to which Jungwon chuckles. “It’s alright, I know she’s gorgeous, I got lucky, I know I’m not the first one to try and I won’t be the last but I’m the one that’s lucky enough to be with her so.” The table erupts into light laughter, all but Jay who forces his lips into a tight smile. 

“Well said.” Sooha compliments, taking a sip of her wine. Sunghoon nods, placing his arm around the back of Sooha’s chair. The conversation flows easy after that for everyone but Jay who seems to observe more than partake in the topic of discussion. His eyes find their way back to you or to Jungwon's hands on you. 

After some time you spot an associate across the room that you had been meaning to talk to, you excuse yourself and invite Jungwon along with you to introduce him. Jungwon follows behind you with no hesitation, reaching the associate and greeting her with a smile. You jump into conversation with her, asking her something about her daughter's recital but Jungwon could not look away from the bar where Jay had travelled to. Jay was shamelessly checking you out, eyes trailing down the length of your body and Jungwon hated it. 

He took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, careful not to disturb your conversation. Jay doesn’t look away which only fuels Jungwon's annoyance. He hated this, the ugly feeling he felt during the holiday party was returning in the pit of his stomach. His jaw clenched and his fingers flexed against your dress. 

This felt almost like a challenge of sorts, like Jay was pushing Jungwon to see how far he could go, how much he could get away with. It angered Jungwon to no end, he knew he was the possessive type, the feeling of jealousy was one he was familiar with when in love. He has always been like this in past relationships but of course it was never a feeling he experienced towards you. 

This was new and uncharted territory for him. When your associate excused herself, leaving just the two of you standing there, Jungwon didn’t hesitate before leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder, then another one to your temple. You feel your cheeks blush as the contact, “Jungwon?” 

“He hasn’t stopped looking at you, not since we walked in.” He whispered softly into your ear, to anyone else it would paint the scene of two lovers sharing a sweet moment. But his tone took you by surprise, he didn’t sound like a friend looking out for you, he truly sounded like a jealous boyfriend who was just seconds away from claiming what’s his.

“Is he looking now?” You whisper back, not daring to look up on your own. Jungwon nods, “Mhm.” 

With that you turn around in his hold to face him, “Dance with me?” You lead him into the dance floor where other couples danced slowly together. Jungwon was quick to place his hands around your waist, pulling you close so you had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“This is new.” You tease in a whisper. Jungwon laughs, “Very. But I like it.” You nod in agreement, letting Jungwon guide you in a slow dance. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.” He confesses softly into the air between you, holding his breath after as if he had just admitted his darkest secret. 

You let his words sink in for a moment, considering all the different meanings if only influenced by a different context. If only this weren’t a facade meant to fool everyone around you. If only Jungwon wasn’t pretending to be your jealous boyfriend. If only this were real. 

“I don’t like it either, but I’m not thinking about that right now.” Your breath hitches at your own words, eyes lifting up to meet his. Jungwon studies you for a moment, eyes dropping to your lips for just a second. “What are you thinking about?” The tone of his voice is heavy with some kind of emotion you have never heard from him before, there is something heated lying just beneath the surface but before you can dive into it, the music lowers as an announcer comes up to a podium asking everyone to return to their seats for the award ceremony. 

Jungwon has to bite back a groan, offering his hand to you to guide you back to your table where your coworkers had already returned to. Sitting next to you in silence after your moment in the dancefloor was slowly killing him inside, he needed to hear what you were gonna say to him, he needed to know how you felt right now. 

All the while awards are being handed out, Jungwon can’t help but feel his entire world spin on its axis, he feels as though everything is on the brink of falling apart. 

You weren’t much better, your nerves should be targeted for your nomination, you should be thinking about what you’re going to say if you win, who will you thank. But instead you’re thinking about how Jungwon looked at you, how his jaw clenched when Jay looked at you. You can still feel his touch on your skin despite him not touching you since you sat down. 

The beating of your heart is all you can hear, your thoughts are screaming at you to pull Jungwon aside and talk to him, to settle whatever is changing between the two of you. Perhaps it’s the atmosphere, the drinks, the fake relationship you’re currently showing off to everyone in your company. All of these things could be getting to you, making you see things that aren’t there, feel things you shouldn't feel. 

Your own pulse inside your ears is so loud you almost miss them calling your name for the award. Jungwon recovers faster than you, clapping and smiling at you like the proud boyfriend he’s pretending to be. Sunghoon and Sooha along with everyone else in the room cheer for you and Jay as the two of you get up to claim your award at the podium. 

Jay offers his hand to help you up the steps in your heels, you take it hesitantly even as your eyes instantly find Jungwons, almost as if you were asking for permission. Everything about tonight is so strange, since when do you look to Jungwon for approval for anything? 

Jay takes the award and steps up to the microphone, “Thank you so much, I could not have done it without my beautiful partner here. All those long nights really paid off, it was all worth it for the success of the company and for this, thank you.” He steps back, allowing you to take his place. 

Just as you were about to speak, you feel Jay place his hand on the small of your back. The podium and your bodies hide the action from the audience but Jungwon doesn’t miss the way your eyes slightly widen and how your body tenses under the lights. 

You quickly take a step forward, “Thank you for this award, we are very grateful and honored. I want to thank our team and everyone that assisted us with this project, thank you to Jay for being a reliable business partner. And I want to thank my boyfriend, Jungwon, for keeping me sane when work was driving me up a wall and for waiting for me at home after all those long nights.” Laughter erupts in the hall, coworkers and partners alike are all amused with your speech but your eyes are only on Jungwon. 

You chose your words carefully, making it clear to everyone, but mainly Jay, that once again you were not interested in anyone other than the brunette sitting at your table next to Jake. Jungwon smiles at you though his shoulders are straight and his eyes are attentive, laced with a possessiveness that pours out of him the longer he has to watch Jay stand next to you. 

Jay attempted to guide you back to your table with his hand hovering at your back but you walk fast enough to stay just ahead of him so he wouldn’t touch you. Jungwon catches on quickly, standing from his seat to take your hand and pressing a loving kiss to your temple, your table claps at the display of affection. 

“Congratulations.” He whispers to you, smiling as he helps you take your seat again. 

“Did he touch you?” He leaned in close to whisper the question in a volume only you could hear, to others it appeared as those he was simply whispering sweet nothings to his lover, but you felt the seriousness of his tone. Your eyes met his and you gave him an almost imperceptible nod. 

Jungwon's eyes flared and his jaw clenched, you were half convinced he would stand up and punch Jay right then and there. But Jungwon wasn’t a violent person, he was possessive and stern but never violent. So he just takes a deep breath through his nose, hand resting over your own on the table. 

You leaned in, breath fanning his ear sending goosebumps down his body, “Night’s almost over.” Realistically he knew your words were meant to calm him, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious like there was still much to unfold. Deep down he knew the night was far from over. 

Surely enough, he was right. Dinner and more drinks were served throughout the ballroom. You and Jungwon had done your rounds talking to your coworkers and business partners around the room. Jungwon had made it his mission to keep you as far away from Jay as physically possible when away from the table. 

The event was coming to a close when your CEO called for everyone's attention for a closing speech. Back at your table with the others it was hard to ignore Jay's eyes on you, you could feel the way his glance travelled down the length of your exposed skin. Clearly having had one too many drinks on him he was failing to conceal his attention on you. This only fueled the man sitting next to you, his anger rising by the second. 

Surely this was past the point of a concerned friend or a pretend jealous boyfriend. Jungwon's jealousy seemed real, more real than you were willing to admit because that realization caused a completely different one to spur from the pit of your stomach. You liked it. You liked that he was jealous, liked the way his hold on you tightened whenever he felt Jay looking your way, relished in the way his jaw clenched in frustration as a way to hold back whatever he truly wanted to say in the moment. 

A thrill went up your spine as it dawned on you, you liked seeing Jungwon get possessive with you. Without realizing it, your eyes trained on his jaw, watching as it clenched and unclenched before drifting down to his tense shoulders and calculated breathing. Almost immediately you found yourself crossing your legs and squeezing your thighs together to subside the sudden ache between your thighs. You never thought jealousy could look so attractive on a person. Although it’s not just any person, it’s Jungwon, your Jungwon. As an already extremely attractive man, seeing him with his jealous eyes and tense posture just made him down right devastating. Enough to soak your panties through if you didn’t know any better. 

And apparently you didn't. 

The crowd applauded as your CEO wished everyone a good night and thanked them for coming. Sunghoon and Sooha were the first to say their goodbyes at your table. 

“Jungwon, it was good to finally meet you. We should meet up again soon, the four of us should grab dinner.” He smiled, his arm wrapped lovingly over Soohas shoulder. Jungwon smiled and nodded, hand at the small of your back. “Absolutely, we’ll plan something soon.” 

“Excluding me already, I met you first.” Jake fake pouts at Jungwon who only chuckles whilst shaking his head. “Up to you if you want to third wheel a double date.” The group laughs, promising to make plans for the future, Sunghoon and Sooha are the first to walk away with Jake following not far behind. 

You send a small nod towards Jay and you’re just about to turn to walk away when Jungwon stops you, “Hold on, wait right here.” He grins before turning back to Jay. You watch as he shakes his hand and steps closer to him, saying something that you can’t quite make out. You watch as Jay’s face drops, eyes dropping to the ground and Jungwon steps back with that same easy grin on his face. Within moments he’s back beside you.

“What was that?” He only shakes his head at you, “Don’t worry about it, he shouldn’t be bothering you anymore.” You’re not sure what he means by that but at this moment you don’t think you want to find out. 

Jungwon has his arm wrapped around you, not even bothering to look in Jays direction before turning to you. “Ready to go home?” The way he says it sends a shock right to your core, the heat that was building in between your thighs all night suddenly becoming unbearable. 

“Let’s go home.” Jungwon stares down at you as you say it, a warmth spread through his chest, he nearly has to hold back a grunt at the way you look up at him so innocently as if you have no idea what you’re doing to him. He nods in response, tightening his hold around you before leading you back to his car. 

The drive back home reminded you of the night of the Holiday party. The air around you was tense and slightly awkward but tonight there was also a hint of something else. It was hot, regardless of the AC being on, you were feeling more and more frustrated with every red light. You just needed to get home, to do what exactly? You weren’t sure, maybe a cold shower was enough to remind you that this was all fake and however you were seeing Jungwon at this moment isn’t real. 

The silence is suffocating and Jungwon could practically feel the heat radiating off your body. It was killing him to focus on the road when all he wanted to do was admire you sitting there in his car, in that stunning dress, all while trying to discreetly press your thighs together even though Jungwon had caught it the first time you did it back at the table. It took everything in him to not react, it was even more trying now with him gripping onto the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. 

You were in his car, in that dress, and turned on and it was killing him to not be able to touch you. He needed some form of a distraction, he would take anything at this point if it meant he would be able to stop thinking about your pretty thighs squeezing together for him underneath your dress. 

“I’m sorry about Jay, I guess I downplayed it more than I realized.” You spoke first. Jungwon wasn’t really wanting to think about that either, it raised another kind of emotion in him that he was still getting used to with you. A lot of things were changing tonight evidently. 

“Yeah, a lot more. I don’t like him.” Jungwon's response is short and calculated, he didn’t want to say anything too forward while his thoughts were still elsewhere. 

You laughed at that, shaking your head which brought his gaze over to you for just a moment. The stress lining the space above his eyebrows eases at the sight of your smile, he can’t help but smile softly in return. 

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell. You were staring at him all night like you wanted to kill him, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were-” You stop yourself, realizing if you finished that sentence the light hearted conversation would go right back to the tense atmosphere you were just in. But it was too late for that, Jungwon wasn’t about to let that go unnoticed. 

“If you didn’t know any better what? Finish that.” His voice is stern now but still kind, he still used that soft tone he reserved for you but his words convinced you that he was not playing around anymore.

You look at him, studying his side profile as he makes it a point to stare straight ahead, not daring to turn away from the road for even a second. You were almost home, what were the chances you could stall until he pulled into your apartment building? 

A moment passed, you were getting closer and closer to your apartment but Jungwon didn’t push further. He didn’t ask again like he knew you would answer the first time. 

“If I didn’t know any better I would say you were actually jealous tonight.” You responded just as he pulled into your building parking garage. You hear Jungwon let out a breath, his grip tightens on the while but he doesn’t say anything until he fully parks the car, turning the engine off and granting the two of you just a moment of silence. 

“And if I was?” Your breath nearly gets caught in your throat. You weren’t fully expecting that, sure there was that tiny hopeful voice in your head that believed he might be even just slightly as affected as you have been all night but you didn’t actually believe it to be true. 

“I mean, I would have no reason to be, right? Because this is fake?” He asks aloud before you can respond to his first statement. The question sets you back, you blink at him without knowing what to say. Jungwon doesn’t give you a second to dwell on it, he opens the door and gets out of the car, already fishing into his pockets for the apartment keys and waiting for you. 

Without Jungwon in the car you allow your confusion to display on your face for just a moment before following him. Jungwon is waiting for you but clearly keeping a distance between the two of you as you begin to walk towards the elevators. Being in this enclosed space with him now was nervewracking, you didn’t know what to say to that. Technically he was right, there was no reason for him to get jealous because this was all pretend, you two weren’t actually dating. But then again, that hasn’t stopped you from swooning over him since the holiday party. 

You’re practically holding your breath the entire elevator ride, looking down at your heels. All that could be heard was that awkward elevator music and surely the pounding of your heart. Jungwon barely waits for the doors to fully open before he’s walking out the doors, he already has his keys in his hand. 

To his credit, he looks back to make sure you’re still behind him before he opens the door and steps inside, holding it for you as well. You step inside your apartment, watching as Jungwon silently locks the door before slipping out of his shoes with ease. You lean against the entryway wall to fiddle with the strap of your heels. The shakiness of your hands isn’t helping you at this moment, sighing with a huff as the strap keeps slipping from your hold. 

Jungwon, who was already in the kitchen with a cold bottle of water in hand, turns to look at you with an almost wounded expression. He watches you fight with your heel strap for another moment before silently walking over to you and kneeling before you. With the gentlest touch you’ve ever felt, Jungwon slowly lifts your foot to rest on his knee and carefully undoes the strap before switching to the other one. 

You watch in shock and awe, holding your breath as you watch him remove your heel, placing it softly on the ground but still not letting go of your ankle. You watch him, unblinking, as he turns his head back to your foot. His eyes trail the length of your leg, peeking at the bit of exposed thigh under your dress, up your hips and waist until his eyes finally meet yours. Without looking away from your eyes, Jungwon leans down to press a kiss to the inside of your ankle, rubbing the area softly before setting your foot back on the ground. 

All the air in your lungs was surely knocked out of you after that, your heart rate is now a concerning speed but you can’t bring yourself to look away from him. 

“I was jealous and possessive, in a way I probably shouldn’t have been. I’m sorry.” He whispered, still kneeling on the ground in front of you. His left hand softly caressed the side of your knee over your dress, sighing quietly. This was unexpected in a way that sent a wave of pure heat straight down to your core. You reached a hand down to run your fingers through his hair, holding onto his jaw to tilt his head up. 

“It’s ok, won, it felt real to me too.” You smiled once he leans into your touch, closing his eyes gently as if he was taking advantage of this moment, not wanting to forget it. You gently guide him back up to stand in front of you, Jungwon doesn’t dare look away from you right now. “I liked being with you like that, I liked having your arm around me and dancing with you. It was nice.” You admit into the quiet of your shared apartment. Jungwon smiles as he looks down for a moment, nodding in agreement. 

“Me too. I noticed it the first night, during the holiday party but I ignored it. I don’t want to ignore it anymore, baby.” His confession has your heart skipping a beat in the most cliche way possible. You smile up at him, “Me neither.” 

Jungwon gives himself a moment to admire your features, admire the way you’re looking at him right now with a look in your eyes he had never seen before. He smiles, taking a step closer before cupping your jaw with his hands and leaning forward to press a soft but meaningful kiss to your lips. Your lips mold together perfectly like they were always meant to tangle together as they are now. 

In nearly three years of living with Jungwon, you’d be lying if you said you never considered what it would be like to kiss him. You thought about it many times actually, more times than you would ever admit out loud. But none of those daydreams or fantasies could ever compare to the real thing. You were starting to understand that Jungwon was a very possessive person in every aspect of his life, including when it came to kissing you. His kiss wasn’t just loving or passionate, it was claiming. His hands had travelled to round your waist, one hand sliding up your back which sends goosebumps down your spine. 

He tilted his head to kiss you deeper, his tongue slipping past your soft lips to claim the inside of your mouth. You had never been kissed like this, it was breathtaking and earth shattering. It was that type of kiss you thought only existed in the movies or those romantic books you read and tell everyone they’re just fantasy. 

After a couple more breathless moments the two of you slowly pull away to take a breath, Jungwon studies your reaction, admiring the blush on your cheeks and the eyes your eyes seem like they’re struggling to focus. 

“That was-” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you smile before chuckling together, Jungwon takes a step back, looking you up and down before speaking again. “Just so we’re clear, this means something to me, I want to take you out on an official date and I want to try this with you…but I also want to take you back to my room right now and take care of you.” 

You smile at his words and let out a breathless sigh before nodding, “I want that too.” He smiles at you with that warm smile that never fails to make you swoon. “Good.” He nods once before he’s pulling you in again by the waist, crashing his lips to your this time with more urgency than before. He starts walking you backwards without pulling his lips from yours, guiding you back towards his bedroom without ever breaking the kiss. 

One clumsy turn has him backing into a wall, groaning softly against your mouth. You gasp and then stifle your giggle with your hand, pulling away to make sure he was okay. He shakes his head, masking his embarrassment by muttering a quick, “Fuck it” under his breath and scoopping you into his arms. He picks you up bridal style, walking quickly over to his room and kicking the door closed behind him as he sets you back down on the floor.

He turns you around swiftly, having you face the wall with your hands coming up to brace yourself at the feeling of his touch wandering the length or your back and waist. 

“You look so beautiful, baby. Tell me I can take this off of you..” He whispers against your skin, leaving kisses down the back of your shoulder. His fingers toy with the zipper of your dress, the same one he helped close earlier in the night. 

“Please.” You whimper, pressing your forehead against the wall to try to calm your breathing. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip with a sigh once you feel Jungwon's fingers pull the zipper down at a tortuously slow pace. Jungwon has to hold his breath the more skin he reveals with his actions, he tries not to groan at the sight of your matching bra and underwear set, a striking color against your skin that has him drooling before he can even really get his hands on you. He carefully pushes the straps of the dress off your shoulders until the material drops and pools at your feet. 

He curses under his breath at the sight of your nearly naked body, his left hand comes down to slide past your waist onto your ass, groaning at the feeling of your soft skin. The curve of your ass attracts him to no end but before he could drop to his knees to worship you how he knows you deserve, you turn around to face him. Instantly his eyes come up to your cleavage before dropping down to the front of your panties, biting back a groan. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re stunning.” He compliments, eyes trailing back up to meet yours with no rush at all. You smile, pushing down a blush that you know is already painting your cheeks. Without saying another word, Jungwon watches in awe as you sink to your knees before him. Hands sitting pretty across your lap as you look up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. Jungwon holds back another curse at the sight of you on your knees. 

“Is this ok, wonie?” The question is followed with your touch sliding up his thighs, playing with the clasp of his belt. Jungwon nods, already unbuttoning the top of his shirt and pulling his sleeves up to his elbows. You smile at the sight before bringing your hand down to squeeze at his covered bulge. Jungwon clenches his jaw at that, biting back another groan. 

“Don’t tease, baby.” You smile at that but ultimately do as you're told. Within seconds you’re pulling his pants and underwear down to reveal his entire length. The corners of your lips curve upwards when you hear him suck in a breath through his teeth once your fingers wrap around the base of him. 

With your eyes looking up at him you spit seductively onto his length, using your hand to stroke him until your spit has coated him entirely. “Haah” He sighs, he’s holding his shirt up with one hand, the other was clenched into a fist by his side. The second you actually wrap your pretty lips around the tip of his already leaking cock Jungwon actually tilts forward, having to hold his hand out against the wall behind you to keep himself upright. 

The feeling of your warm mouth taking him so prettily was enough to have his knees nearly buckling on their own accord. He would almost feel embarrassed if he wasn’t so incredibly turned on right now. Your mouth works quickly on him, you suck in your cheeks and slide your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your hand strokes what can’t fit in your mouth in time with your movements. A sense of pride washes over you and you look up and visibly see Jungwon struggling to keep it together. 

“Fuck, your mouth is so warm-s’tight. Shit, just like that, baby.” He grunts through clenched teeth. His hand drops to hold your hair out of the way, holding it in a makeshift ponytail. You suck his length harder and faster, ignoring the ache in your jaw once you feel Jungwon's grip tighten on your hair. He was getting close and you needed his release like you needed air. You pushed yourself even farther down his length, taking him as deep as you could before your throat constrict around him. You gag around him once but Jungwon only curses at the sound, feeling himself growing closer to his release. 

“Shit, right there baby, I’m so close.” He curses under his breath, trying to silence his grunts but the attempt is laughable. He’s so loud and whiny you can feel yourself growing wetter just from the sound. His sounds only get louder, at this point you’re clenching around nothing to just feel some kind of release. You have never seen someone look or sound so attractive in a state like this, all you can think about is how badly you want to do this again and again. 

His hand on your hair grips you tightly, forcing you deeper as he releases right down your throat, cursing out loud with your name on his lips. You swallow his release instantly, humming at the taste with his dick still inside you. You give him another moment to catch his breath before pulling back with a pop. Your hand caresses his thigh softly, allowing him a moment to come back down from his high. 

He blinks down at you, breathing hard. His hands help you up, instantly crashing his lips against yours. He could still taste himself on your lips and it only makes him groan. The ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable and you were positive you have never been this turned on in your life. 

“Get on the bed, baby.” He whispered against your lips, pressing one more swift kiss there before stepping back. His eyes never leave your body as you walk toward the bed, leaning your body over before laying down to give him the best view of your ass. Jungwon lets out another groan, already feeling himself growing hard again. His hands work fast to remove his clothing before meeting you at the foot of the bed. 

A gasp slips past your lips unintentionally with Jungwon pulling you by your ankles to the edge of the bed, he smirks. For the second time tonight, you watch in awe as Jungwon gracefully kneels to the ground, only this time it’s between your open thighs. He pushes your legs open softly and has to visibly hold back a groan upon seeing a wet patch right at the center of your underwear. 

He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss right at the inside of your thigh, trailing his lips closer and closer to where you need him most. A soft hum sounds from your throat, your eyes falling closed at the feeling. You can help but lift yourself on your elbows to watch him pull your underwear down, you didn’t want to miss a second of this. 

“Fuck, you’re just pretty everywhere, aren’t you, doll?” He compliments with his eyes never leaving your now bare pussy. He practically drools over the sight of your soaked folds, automatically leaning forward to press another kiss on the skin right above your cunt. 

You watch him lean back again only to spit slowly onto your folds just to watch it slide down your center. Your body jolts at the feeling to which Jungwon grins, he was going to enjoy the hell out of himself by teasing you like this. 

“Jungwon-” You’re about to start begging but he silences you with his index fingers coming up to slide through your folds, collecting your arousal and swirling it all the way up to your clit. A silent gasp shoots through you. He uses his thumb now to circle your clit once, twice, studying the way your body reacts to being played with like this. 

“You’re so wet, dripping all over my hand and I haven’t even started yet.” You’re not sure if he’s even talking to you anymore, his eyes are focused on your pussy, mesmerized with every twitch and pulse of your walls. His fingers circle your entrance, teasing your leaking hole with a delicious pace before finally sinking both inside you in one go. 

The moan that escapes you has Jungwon's dick twitching at attention, he watches his fingers pump inside you, pulling more of your juices out with each stroke. “Wonie..” Your moans and whines are fucking music to the brunettes ears, he decides right here and now that is his new favorite sound. His eyes travel upwards to watch your face, the picture of pure bliss and pleasure displayed all over your features. Without hesitating, Jungwon leans down to drag his tongue up the length of your folds, fingers still pulsing inside you. His tongue comes up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue until your legs try to close around his head. 

“Jungwon! Wait-” You’re cut off by another moan that pushes through you. His speed picks up and his tongue moves harsher to match his pace. He shakes his head against your wet folds, “Tastes s’good, tastes like mine.” He groans, his voice sending another level of vibrations up your core. Your hands find their way to his hair to pull at and run through as you feel yourself growing closer to that pinnacle release. Another moan in the shape of his name slips past your lips in a breathless haze. 

Then he curls his fingers in a certain way that nudges that little spongy part inside of you so perfectly it has you seeing stars, that along with the way his tongue never moves away from your clit has your thighs tightening around his head and fingers pulling his hair to keep him exactly where he is. If that wasn’t evidence enough of your upcoming orgasm, the way you arched your back completely off the bed and the loud moan that shot through you was enough to have Jungwon press forward until he felt your walls squeeze his fingers. Your orgasm doesn’t just wash over you like you’re used to, this one shoots through you with the power of at least three orgasms in one. 

You cry out his name, twitching in his hold despite him pulling away softly to allow you a moment to catch your breath just as you did for him before. He admires the way your body reacts to his touch now, your cunt is damn near pulsing, crying for more. His hand caresses your thigh before crawling upwards to hover above you. 

“You’re so beautiful when you come, will you show me again?” He whispers against your lips, pressing a soft kiss there once and then twice. You nod, eyes struggling to fully stay open thanks to the earth shattering orgasm from before. “Please..please fuck me, wonie.” He groans at that, dropping his face into your neck and kissing your skin. 

“Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.” 

You can only watch with anticipation as Jungwon slides his hardened dick through your slick folds, the tip catches onto your overstimulated clit making your gasp aloud. “So responsive for me.” He smiles then slides his tip back down to your entrance, teasingly slipping just the tip inside of you until you moan for him and then pulling back out. 

“Jungwon, please,” he does it again, sliding his tip in only to pull out and repeat it a couple more times until you’re practically crying, “you’re being so mean.” Your pout is what catches his attention, he grins at you before kissing your pouty lips. 

“Mean? That’s not mean baby, this is mean.” He slams his entire length into you in one go, a loud moan bordering on scream rips through your throat as your entire body jolts upwards on the bed at the sudden intrusion. The pain is quick to subside to pleasure as Jungwon mercilessly pounds into you right from the start. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, instead opting for fucking into you fast and rough. His hands drag your legs over his shoulders, nearly folding you in half in order to thrust deeper into you. 

He was pounding you into the mattress so good you were already struggling to keep your eyes open. Jungwon admired the way your back arched and your head tilted back. He was absolutely captivated with your body, loving the way your hands alternated from holding onto the bedsheets and his own arms. 

Your walls molded around his cock, making you his perfect little cock sleeve much to Jungwon's pleasure. “So tight around me, you’re soaked through, baby. Shit, so wet, so warm, your pretty pussy's gonna make me come.” 

You can already feel your second orgasm of the night approaching, your walls tighten around him and you can barely give him a warning before you feel yourself falling apart. “That’s it, baby. So sexy coming around my dick like that.” He fucks into you as you come, never stoppping his movements. He lowers your legs from his shoulder, wrapping them around his waist instead in order to get closer to you. 

Now chest to chest, Jungwons trusts slow down as he kisses you lovingly, a stark contrast to the way he was just fucking you. 

“So good for me, you’ll give me another one right?” He’s asking but he doesn’t wait for an answer. Before you could protest with cries of overstimulation, Jungwon is already turning you onto your stomach, forcing you onto your knees with one hand pressing your head against the pillows. 

“You can take it, fuck.” His movements pick up again, slamming into you from behind. His eyes are trained on the way your ass jiggles with every thrust, his left hand comes down to grope and squeeze your ass and hips and his other still holds your head down. 

“Fuck, all mine. You’re all mine, no other motherfucker will ever have you like this again.” His thrusts are punishing now, almost like he was taking his anger out on you and you were starting to realize exactly why. 

“The asshole thinks he can touch you, you were mine before he even met you, I’ll make sure he remembers that, yeah?” The jealousy was pouring out of him with every word and thrust of his hips. You were moaning and crying into the pillows, your body already twitching with overstimulation and exhaustion. You would’ve never expected Jungwon to fuck you within an inch of your life, even worse you never expected it to feel so good. 

“I'm so close- need you to come with me. Fuck I need to feel you baby, please.” His groans have turned into whines now, thrusts growing sloppier but his hand comes around to rub at your clit in time with his movements. A sharp cry rips from your lips just as your third orgasm crashes through your body. Jungwon feels your walls constrict around him and suddenly he watches as your juices squirt out of you soaking his entire lower body and his bed below him. The sight alone is enough to bring Jungwon over the edge too, he grips the base of his cock once just before spilling all over your ass and lower back. 

Your body collapses onto the bed, legs feeling weak and shaking. Your brain was still catching up with your body, not even realizing you squirted for the first time until Jungwon flips you again over onto your back. 

“You’re such a pretty squirter, baby.” His tongue is already sticking out past his lips, eyes focused on your soaking pussy.

“Think you can do that again on my tongue?” 

[nisc0]

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!jake 𝓍 f!reader 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smut (MDNI), porn with plot 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : fake nerd!jake, manipulative behavior, cheating, obsessive behavior, jealousy, edging, sub!jake, dom!reader, fingering, dry humping, filthy talk, degradation, use of nickname : angel, jake tries to drive you insane but he gets caught in his own trap 𝐰𝐜 : 15.2K

part 1

📎- Again, this was one of the funniest and interesting work that I ever did. I've never written obsessive type of stories and idk why I haven't do it before, it's actually so fun :))

It was winter now. Five months had passed since the final night in Ibiza. Five months of Jake reverting completely to the ghost in the hallways, his eyes fixed firmly on the floorboards whenever you passed. He hadn't stuttered around you because he hadn't spoken to you at all. It seemed like he had built a wall out of silence, and then he had built Lila.

She sat beside him at the long table, her hand resting lightly on his forearm. She was a communications major, poised and soft-spoken, the sort of girl who instinctively knew how to be sweet and when to laugh at Jake's dad dry business jokes.

"Jake told me that you're doing incredibly well in your biology modules," Lila said, turning her perfect smile toward you. You glanced at Jake. He was slouching, his shoulders rounded under a heavy grey knit sweater, his glasses sliding down his nose as he moved his food around his plate. Not even a single look.

"Yeah," you said, your voice flat. "I managed to pass."

"He was so worried about your summer credits," your mother chimed in from the head of the table, beaming at Lila. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Lila. He has been quite private about his life until recently."

"He’s just modest," Lila said, squeezing Jake's arm. He offered her a small, hesitant smile ; the exact performance of the shy and grateful boy he had perfected over years. It made your stomach turn.

Jay had been the only constant since the return from Spain. He had started staying late at the library with you, driving you back to the mansion when your car was in the shop, completely oblivious to the violent turn that had occurred between you and his 'friend' in Ibiza. To Jay, you were still just the step-sibling Jake tolerated. To you, Jay was a protection against the silence.

"So," your mother said, leaning forward on her elbows, her eyes shifting from Jake and Lila over to you. "Now that Jake has introduced us to someone so lovely, I have to ask ; are we going to see a boyfriend at this table anytime soon? Jay has been around the house quite a bit lately."

The table went quiet. You felt the shift before you saw it. Jake set his fork down. The silver clinked sharply against the china. He kept the slouched, unthreatening posture, yet he turned his head slowly to look at you. His eyes were wide and blinking behind his lenses, but the stare was drilling into you with a sudden, freezing weight.

"Yeah," Jake murmured. His voice had that thin, hesitant edge, the delivery was careful. "Are you going to bring Jay around for dinner? He’s...he’s a good guy. You two seem really close lately."

Lila smiled, completely missing the undercurrent. "Oh, he's from international business? He's great. You two would look nice together."

Jake kept his eyes on you, his jaw tightening just enough for a muscle to twitch under his cheek. The fake shyness was there in his slouched fram, but his gaze was entirely serious, like a suffocating pressure that demanded an answer. He was testing you, using his new girlfriend and your mother to push you into a corner.

The air in the room felt thick, it was overstimulating. The hypocrisy of it ; the five months of being treated like a stranger after the kitchen, after the club, after his hands had left bruises on your hips. It hardened into a cold knot in your throat.

You pushed your chair back, the wood scraping loudly against the floor. "I'm not feeling well," you said, your voice cutting through Lila’s quiet laughter. "Excuse me."

You didn't look at Jake to see if the mask slipped. You immediately walked out of the dining room, leaving the warmth of the dinner party behind as you headed for the stairs.

──────

You're finally alone. The quiet of your bedroom felt like a relief after the suffocating atmosphere downstairs. You sat on the edge of your mattress, phone in hand. When it rings in your palm, Jay’s name flashed across the screen.

You picked up quickly. "What's up?"

"You left dinner early," Jay said. His voice was lower than usual, carrying the same tone he got when he was tired. "Your mom said you weren't feeling well. You alright?"

"I'm fine. I just couldn't sit through the theater performance downstairs anymore." You leaned back against your pillows, staring at the ceiling. "Lila is...a lot."

"Yeah, I bet," Jay grunted. You heard the rustle of sheets on his end, the sound of him shifting around in his own bed. "Look, if the house is too loud, just come over. My roommates are out for the weekend. We can just lock the door and get dinner."

The proposition wasn't just about food, and you both knew it. Over the last month, the boundary between being friends and something entirely utilitarian had blurred. It was clean, it was physical, and it kept the coldness of the mansion from settling into your bones.

"Did you know about her?" you asked suddenly. "Lila. Did you know Jake was seeing her?"

"No," Jay said, his tone turning dry. "Jake doesn't exactly run his dating life by me. I only found out he was official with someone because he left a scarf in my passenger seat last week and told me not to touch it. Why? Is it weird seeing him with someone?"

"No. It's...she’s too perfect. It’s annoying." You rolled onto your side, your phone pressed tight to your ear.

What Jay didn't know—what you didn't even fully realize—was that Jake didn't need to be told about you and Jay. Down the hall, behind his own closed door, Jake knew exactly when Jay’s car pulled into the driveway. He knew how many hours Jay spent upstairs. He had tracked the shift in the way you walked, the specific timing of your absences, and how you stopped looking for him in the house. His silence over the last five months hadn't been a lack of interest ; it was the stillness of someone gathering data.

"Don't worry about them," Jay said, his voice dropping into that unhurried cadence that usually preceded him reaching for you. "Get in your car and come over. You don't have to deal with the family dynamic if you're not there."

You hesitated, looking toward your bedroom door. The house was completely silent now, the dinner party long over, but the space beneath your door felt like it was under surveillance.

"Give me a few minutes," you whispered into the receiver.

"I'll leave the back door unlocked," Jay said, and the line went dead.

The cold air of the driveway was forgotten the moment you stepped through Jay’s back door. He caught you by the waist in the dull light of the kitchen, pulling your back hard against his chest and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His mouth was hot against your cold skin, his stubble scraping right along the sensitive line beneath your jaw.

"Jay—stop, it tickles," you laughed, shoulders bunching up as you tried to twist away from the touch of his lips. Without letting go, he let out a low, muffled laugh against your throat, his hands sliding under the hem of your sweatshirt to grip your hips, his palms warm against your skin. "Missed you too," he murmured, his voice soft and annoyingly gentle.

He finally let you turn around in his arms. He looked down at you, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, however his expression was relaxed, stripped of his usual perfect posture at college.

"You look stressed," he said, leaning his forehead against yours. "Is it still about the biology credits?"

"The credits, the future, the lack of a respectable man at my side," you sighed, letting your head drop against his shoulder. "My mom spent half of dinner dropping hints. It’s exhausting."

Jay hummed, his chest vibrating against yours. He guided you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the kitchen counter, trapping you easily. "Let her talk. You’re clearing the modules. That’s all that matters." He tilted your chin up, half-smile pulling at his mouth. "Besides, what's her rush? She thinks I'm the one taking care of you anyway, doesn't she?"

"Actually, yes," you said, a small laugh escaping you. "Everyone at that table thinks you're my boyfriend. Even Lila was talking about how 'nice' we’d look together."

Jay’s smile widened, arrogant but entirely lacking any malice. He liked the sound of it, even if the reality between you was unlabelled and unscripted. "Well, they aren't completely wrong about the looking nice part," he murmured, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. His grip was firm but gentle, pulling you up just enough that you had to stand on your toes to meet his mouth. When he kissed you this time, it was slow, and entirely focused on taking your mind off the house you’d just left behind. He pulls back first to meet your gaze. The earnestness in his expression tells you he's genuinely offering to help, not just looking for an excuse to get you into bed. Despite the lingering stress in your chest, you feel a small smile tug at your lips.

"Yeah," you say simply.

Jay's answering smile is immediate, a flash of white teeth in the low kitchen light. He takes your hand, leading you to the wider section of counter near the sink. He positions you with your back to him, gently pressing on your shoulders until you're bent over the cold surface, your palms flat against it to steady yourself.

The position feels vulnerable yet strangely comforting. You trust Jay completely, even in moments like this where you're physically exposed and emotionally raw. His hands are warm as they slide up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your lounge pants down. You're not wearing anything underneath, being too tired to bother with proper loungewear after your shower earlier and Jay makes a small sound of approval at this discovery.

"Convenient," he murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns on your exposed skin. You shiver, partly from the cool air on your bare skin and partly from anticipation. "Don't tease."

"Patience." He chuckles, but obliges you by sliding two fingers inside you without further preamble. The sudden fullness makes you gasp, your fingers curling against the counter. He starts moving immediately, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you in a rhythm that's become familiar over your months together. The wet sounds of his movements quickly fill the quiet kitchen, lewd and intimate in the domestic setting.

You can't help but push back against his hand, silently urging him deeper. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to make your knees weak. The combination of sensations has you trembling within minutes, your body responding eagerly to his touch despite the stress that's been weighing you down.

Just as you're approaching the edge, he slows down intently, his movements becoming torturously measured. You whine in frustration, pushing back against his hand.

"Jay, please," you complain, your voice breathy. "Don't tease me right now."

He laughs, a low rumble resonating in the room. "But you're so fun to tease when you're stressed."

Despite his words, he picks up the pace again, his fingers moving faster and deeper than before. The wet sounds grow louder as your arousal increases, echoing off the kitchen walls. His other hand comes to rest on your lower back, holding you steady as his fingers work inside you with renewed purpose.

It doesn't take long before you're trembling against the counter, your release washing over you in waves that leave you breathless. Your fingers grip the edge of the counter so tightly your knuckles turn white as you ride out the pleasure. As you come down from your high, Jay gives your ass a gentle slap, the sound sharp in the now-quiet kitchen. You yelp in surprise, more from the suddenness than any real pain.

He helps you stand upright, your legs feeling slightly wobbly as you adjust your clothes. When you turn to face him, he's already washing his hands at the sink, as if nothing unusual just happened between you.

"Want me to return the favor?" you ask, leaning against the counter as your breathing slowly returns to normal. He shakes his head, drying his hands on a dish towel. "Nah, I'm good. You're the one who's been stressed the whole time."

You laugh, some of the tension finally leaving your shoulders. "Fair enough." He turns to face you, leaning against the counter opposite you. "Better?"

You nod, surprised by how much lighter you feel. "Much better, actually. Thanks."

"Anytime," he says with a shrug, as if it's the most natural thing in the world for friends to help each other unwind in such an intimate way.

──────

The clock in the mansion’s foyer read just past midnight when you arrives back at the mansion. The tall front door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the biting winter air but the warmth inside the house felt instantly restrictive.

As you walked past the grand staircase, the sound of easy laughter drifted from the main living room. You stopped at the threshold. The fire was roaring in the hearth, casting a glow over the room. Jake's dad was sitting in his leather armchair, a glass of scotch in hand, looking more relaxed than he had in months. On the sofa opposite him sat Lila and Jake. She was leaning into Jake's side, her head tilted back as she laughed at something his dad had just said.

Jake looked like the model step-brother. He was still wearing the oversized grey sweater, his shoulders rounded, a soft, boyish smile on his face as he pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked completely integrated into the scene. Disgunstingly soft and safe.

The laughter died down just a fraction as your shadow hit the hardwood floor. Lila was the first to notice you, her expression instantly shifting back to that welcoming mask.

"Oh, hey," Lila said softly. "You're back. Are you feeling any better?"

Jake's dad looked up, nodding at you. "You missed a good conversation. Lila was just telling us about her thesis proposal."

Jake didn't look up immediately. He kept his eyes on his own hands, which were loosely laced together over his knee, and you saw the subtle stiffening of his neck. The relaxed, slouching posture remained as the air around him grew instantly still.

You didn't bother to answer Lila's question. Your eyes swept the room, noting the empty space on the opposite armchair where your mother usually sat.

"Where’s Mom?" you asked, your voice flat and cold against the remaining warmth of their laughter.

"She went up about half an hour ago," His dad said, swirling the ice in his glass. "She said she had an early conference call tomorrow."

You didn't say anything else as you turned and walked toward the stairs, the sound of Lila reviving the conversation fading behind you as you mounted the steps. Each riser felt heavier than the last, the house swallowing the noise of their perfect little family dinner until the second floor was completely silent.

You arrive in your bedroom. You kicked off your shoes and walked straight into the adjoining bathroom, turning the shower on until the small space filled with blinding steam that obscured the mirror. You stood under the hot water for twenty minutes, trying to scrub the smell of the mansion, of Lila’s perfume, and even the lingering scent of Jay’s laundry detergent off your skin. But the heat of the water only seemed to make the tension under your skin tighter.

When you stepped out, you didn't bother with clothes. You were in wrapped a large white bath towel tightly around your torso, tucking the edge securely over your chest, and walked back into the bedroom to find a pair of sweatpants. Your hair was wet, sticking to the nape of your neck, dripping tiny cold beads of water down your shoulder blades.

Three sharp, distinct knocks rapped against the wood of your door.

Before you could even draw breath to tell whoever it was to wait, the brass handle turned. The door swung open, and Jake stepped into the room, shutting it firmly behind him with a quiet click. The sight of him made your stomach instantly drop, the lingering warmth from the shower turning into a cold spike of adrenaline.

"What the fuck, Jake?" you hissed, instinctively clutching the top of the towel tighter against your chest, your knuckles turning white. "Get out. I'm not dressed."

He didn't look startled, and he didn't drop his eyes in panic. The slouched posture was completely gone again. He stood at his full height, his back flat against your door, locking it visually with his frame. He had taken his glasses off, and his eyes were completely clear, wide, and fixed on the bare skin of your shoulders. The difference between the soft, boyish sweater and the heavy, unblinking intensity of his stare was unhinged.

"I knocked," he said. His voice was low, no stutter, no hesitation, sounding just like his dry commands back in Ibiza.

"I didn't tell you to come in," you said, your voice shaking with an anger you couldn't fully repress. "Leave. Now."

He didn't budge as he slowly tilted his head, his gaze dragging down the length of the white towel before coming back up to lock onto your eyes. He looked entirely too comfortable standing in your private space, as if he owned the room, the air inside it, and the right to be there.

"I was just checking to see if you were okay," he murmured, his tone flat and entirely unbothered by your anger. "Dad said you were sick at dinner. And then you vanished for four hours."

"It’s none of your business where I was," you said, your grip tightening on the knot of the towel. You forced a sharp, dry laugh. "Go back downstairs. Don't keep your perfect little girlfriend waiting. I'm sure your dad and Lila are missing their favorite performer."

The subtle edge in your voice—the spike of resentment—didn't slip past him. If anything, it seemed to ground him further, his eyes narrowing slightly as he digested the tone of your words. It was definitely amusing him, and definitely turning him on.

"Are you jealous of Lila?" he asked. His voice was entirely casual, his eyes were still sharp.

"Fuck off," you snapped, cutting him off before he could even finish the thought.

Instead of getting angry, a slow, knowing smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. It was that same smirk from the pool, vicious with an arrogant satisfaction. He liked the reaction. He liked knowing he could still get under your skin after five months of absolute silence, that his mere presence could completely shatter your composure.

"You should be more gentle with me," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he took a slow half-step away from the door, closing the distance between you by just an inch. "You should be happy for me. I’m finally putting on a good show for once."

The sheer hypocrisy of it made something snap. You walked right up to him, stopping only inches from his chest, ignoring the fact that you were entirely unprotected in just a towel. You looked up at him, your breathing ragged, the heat radiating off him making the space between you feel tight and unbreathable.

"You are completely fucked up in your head," you mumbled, your voice shaking with a fierce intensity. "For what you did in Spain, for the way you act in this house...I should have just ignored you from the very first day. You’re a fucking psychopath."

Jake stood there, letting your anger wash over him, completely unfazed. His gaze slowly dropped from your eyes, tracing the damp line of your collarbone, down to where the towel clung to the curve of your chest, and further down to your bare legs. He took his time, assessing you with a cold, terrifyingly precise focus.

He reached out, his fingers surprisingly hot against your damp skin as he lightly traced the curve of your jaw, his thumb pressing just firmly enough against your chin to force you to keep looking at him.

"You seem really tired these days," he said flatly, his voice completely lacking of emotion as his thumb brushed against your lower lip, before his hand dropped back to his side. "Jay must be keeping you busy."

Before you could raise your hand to push him or speak, he reached behind his back, turned the brass handle, and stepped out into the dark hallway. The door clicked shut, leaving you alone in the freezing quiet, the ghost of his touch still burning against your skin.

──────

As the green numbers on the desk clock displayed 2:14 AM. The rest of the mansion had been dead for hours, wrapped in the freezing silence of a winter night. You sat with your laptop open, the harsh blue light reflecting off your notes, trying to force your brain to process the lines of biology text. The words just swam on the page, blurred by exhaustion and the subtle nagging irritation that had been sitting in your chest since the confrontation by the door.

Suddenly, the silence broke.

It started as a low rhythmic creak against the floorboards down the hall ; so faint you almost thought it was the house settling in the cold. But then came the sound of a muffled breath, followed by a soft, breathy gasp that could only belong to Lila.

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard.

The walls of the mansion were thick, but at two in the morning, every sound carried. The low thud of a headboard against the wall began to settle into a steady, agonizing cadence. It wasn't loud, but it was clear enough. You could hear the raspy murmur of Jake’s voice—without any stutter, deep and entirely unhurried—answering a quiet whine from Lila.

You slammed your laptop shut. The sudden snap echoed in your room, but it did nothing to block out the noise from down the hall. You pulled your knees up to your chest, burying your face in your arms, yet your ears remained hyper-tuned to every shift in sound. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, a suffocating wave of anger and frustration rising in your throat. It felt like a sick extension of his game. He had stood in your room just hours ago, putting his hands on your skin, and now he was down the hall, proving exactly how easily he could move on, how perfectly he could play the part of the attentive boyfriend.

Why do I even care?

The question bit into you. You clutched your hair, your eyes burning in the dark. It didn’t make sense. He was manipulative, a chameleon who wore masks like clothes, a prick who had ignored you for five months after leaving marks on your hips back in summer. You had Jay now. He was gentle, he was safe, he actually treated you like a person instead of a puzzle to be solved or a reaction to be provoked, even without having a title to your 'relationship'.

Yet, as the muffled sounds down the hall hit a higher, more intense frequency, your stomach twisted into a tight, agonizing knot. It wasn't just anger ; it was a humiliating, deeply buried jealousy that you hated yourself for harboring.

Get over it, you told yourself, your teeth grinding together until your jaw ached. You have to get over it right now. Before you let him make you completely insane.

You pulled your blanket over your head, pressing the pillows over your ears to drown out the final, low murmurs of the night, forcing yourself to breathe through the dark until the silence finally returned.

──────

You hadn't slept more than two hours. Your eyes felt heavy, and the tension in your shoulders had hardened into a painful ache. You walked into the kitchen to grab a mug, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Jake was standing by the counter, waiting for the coffee maker to finish dripping. The transformation was already complete. He was slouched over, his spine curved into that familiar unthreatening hunch. He wore a faded, oversized college hoodie that swallowed his frame, and his glasses sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose. When he heard your footsteps, he flinched slightly, his shoulders tightening as he looked up with a startled expression.

"Oh...h-hey," he stammered, his voice instantly dropping into that hesitant register. He looked down at his slippers, shuffling his feet. "Good m-morning. Lila is...she’s still asleep. She was really tired."

The utter audacity of the performance made something hot and bitter flare up in your chest. The memory of the shallow, raspy voice from down the hall at 2:00 AM rubbed against this stuttering persona like sandpaper.

"Yeah, I bet she was," you said, your voice dripping with cold, biting sarcasm as you stepped up to the counter to grab the coffee pot. "The walls in this house are pretty old, Jake. Maybe next time tell her to keep it down. Some of us actually have work to finish."

Not a single recoil. He stayed still for a beat, his head lowered. Then, slowly, the stuttering boy vanished. He turned his head to look at you sideways, his eyes completely clear and sharp behind his lenses. A small, infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Did it bother you?" he murmured, his voice smooth. "I could always tell her to be louder next time. If you need help staying awake."

Your hand clenched around the handle of the coffee mug. The frustration was an physical weight in your chest, suffocating and sharp. You couldn't win this. He could switch characters in a fraction of a second, leaving you grasping at shadows while you rawly exposed your own irritation.

"You're a prick," you muttered, setting the mug down with a sharp clink before turning on your heel to leave the kitchen. You didn't even want the coffee anymore ; you just needed to get away from him before you lost your mind completely.

"Hey."

His voice stopped you just as you reached the threshold. It wasn't loud, but it had that grounded authority that always made you freeze. You didn't turn around as you stayed still, listening to the quiet rustle of his hoodie as he leaned back against the counter.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Jake asked flatly. The teasing tone was gone, replaced by a cold, matter-of-fact tenor. "You told me last night that you should have ignored me from day one. You told me to fuck off. I’m leaving you alone, just like you asked."

He let out a short, quiet breath that sounded almost like a scoff. "Don't get mad at me just because I'm finally giving you exactly what you wanted."

The absolute silence wrapped around the kitchen again. You didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply. You stepped out into the hallway and walked away, the cold weight of his words settling deep into your brain.

──────

The living room was quiet, the only sound was coming out of your headphones. You were curled up on the sofa with a book, completely checked out from the house and the reality of the last few days. Your head finally felt clear from this horrible week you went through.

Then the front door clicked open, and the freezing winter air swept into the foyer, bringing Lila with it. She was shaking out her umbrella, looking as spotless as ever in a cream-colored wool coat. She spotted you immediately and walked into the living room, unbuttoning her coat with practiced elegance.

"Oh, hi !" Lila said, offering a warm smile. "Jake told me to come on in. He’s still outside fixing something with the garage door, but he said he’d be up in a few minutes."

You pulled one side of your headphones down around your neck, forcing a polite smile. "Hi. Yeah, he's probably dealing with the sensor. It glitches in the cold."

"Right," Lila said, tossing her coat over the armchair and sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. She smoothed down her skirt. "So, what are you reading? Still burying yourself in biology modules?"

"Just some fiction for a change," you replied, keeping your tone light and conversational. "I need a break from the textbooks."

"I imagine," Lila chuckled softly, leaning her chin on her hand. "It’s good that you’re trying to catch up. Jake mentioned how much you struggled with your summer credits in summer. It must be so hard to feel like you're constantly lagging behind everyone else in the house." The words were spoken with a soft, sweet cadence, but the undercurrent was sharp. You blinked, looking at her properly. Her smile hadn't wavered, yet you could see that her eyes were entirely cold.

"I'm not lagging behind. I passed," you said, your voice dropping its polite edge.

Lila let out a tiny, airy laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, of course. Barely, but a pass is a pass, right? I mean...Jake’s dad and your mom have such high expectations. It must be exhausting for them to constantly have to worry about your future while Jake just naturally glides through everything. But I guess every family has that one sibling who needs a little extra charity."

Her mask didn't just slip, she completely threw it away. The sweet girl from dinner was gone, replaced by a girl who knew exactly how to inject venom into a conversation while keeping her voice sweet enough for anyone listening from the hallway. You closed your book, the slam sounding loud in the quiet room. You leaned back, staring at her with a flat, unimpressed expression.

"You know, Lila, for someone who’s only been coming around here for few weeks, you have a lot of opinions on how this family operates," you said, your voice cutting through her lingering smile.

Lila’s eyes narrowed, the sweetness vanishing from her expression. "I'm just observing. Jake tells me how much of a burden the dynamic can be."

"Then let me give you an observation," you bit back, tilting your head. "If you think playing the perfect, docile little girlfriend is going to secure your spot at this table, you're auditioning for the wrong audience. Jake might buy your little act, but don't ever mistake my politeness for a lack of spine. Keep my name, my credits, and my parents out of your mouth before you find out how quickly you can be uninvited."

Lila’s face flushed an ugly, mottled red, her perfect composure fracturing completely. "Who do you think you are?" she hissed, leaning forward, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper. "You’re just a parasite clinging to your stepfather’s good will. Jake told me how pathetic you were in Ibiza, whining for attention because nobody—"

"Jake doesn't know a damn thing about me, and neither do you," you cut her off, your voice rising. "You're a temporary fixture in this house. So don't get comfortable, because the moment he's bored of your little charity-case act, you'll be out on the pavement."

"Is that why you're so bitter?" Lila spat, a nasty, triumphant grin breaking through her anger. "Because he actually wants me? Because you have to settle for leftovers like Ja—"

"That's enough !"

The front door had opened, and Jake’s dad booming voice shattered the air in the living room. He stepped over the threshold, his brow furrowed in deep displeasure. Behind him stood Jake. He had his hood up, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched in that same helpless posture. But through his crooked glasses, his eyes were wide, tracking your face with a silent focus.

"I could hear you screaming from the foyer," His dad said, walking into the room and casting a harsh, disapproving glare directly at you. "What is the meaning of this? Lila is a guest in this house. You will behave yourself and treat her with respect."

Lila immediately shrank back into the couch cushions, her eyes welling with instant fake tears as she looked up at Jake’s dad. "I'm sorry...I just asked about her classes, and she started attacking me."

The suffocating injustice of it made something inside you snap. The hours of sleeplessness, the humiliation of the previous night, the months of Jake's psychological warfare, and now this textbook manipulation—it all collided into a single, blinding flash of rage.

"Treat her with respect?" you laughed, the sound loud, manic, and completely unhinged. You stood up, throwing your book onto the coffee table so hard the glass rattled. "Are you blind? Both of you? She’s a fucking snake ! She sits here acting like a saint in front of you, but the second you turn your back, she’s dripping poison."

"Be silent !" Jake’s dad barked, his face darkening. "You are acting like a child. Apologize to Lila right now."

"I would rather rot," you snarled, completely crashing out. You turned your furious gaze to Jake, who was standing entirely still, watching your meltdown like a scientist observing a predictable reaction. "And you—you're the worst of all. You bring this garbage into this house and watch the circus. You're both pathetic."

"Get out of this room until you can control your temper," His dad ordered, his voice vibrating with absolute authority.

"Gladly," you choked out, your throat tight with a mix of fury and adrenaline. Without looking back, you stormed past Jake, intentionally slamming your shoulder into his arm as you pushed past him. He didn't even stumble, but as you ripped open the front door and tore out into the freezing winter afternoon without a coat, you caught the faint, unmistakable twitch of a satisfied smile on his face. He had gotten exactly what he wanted : chaos, and you, completely broken.

As you arrive to Jay’s dorm, you threw the door open so hard it bounced off the rubber stopper on the wall, the loud bang startling his roommate, who dropped his gaming controller in shock. Jay was sitting on his bed, a textbook open on his lap and a pen between his teeth. He took one look at your face—your hair wild from the winter wind, your chest heaving, and the fact that you weren't wearing a coat in the middle of December—and immediately stood up.

"Get your keys," you said, your voice trembling with the leftovers of the adrenaline. "We're leaving."

He only grabbed his heavy leather jacket, threw it over your freezing shoulders, and followed you straight back out to his car.

Twenty minutes later, you were tucked into the corner booth of a small café three miles away from the campus. Jay sat across from you, his large hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee he had ordered just to give you time to breathe.

"Alright," Jay said, his voice low and steady, pulling your attention away from the window. "Talk to me. You look like you're about to murder someone."

The words poured out of you in a bitter, unedited rush. You told him everything about Lila coming over, the comments about your credits, and how she had weaponized your stepfather the second he walked through the door. You told him how he had demanded an apology, and how you had completely lost it and stormed out into the cold.

The only thing you omitted was the specific brand of twisted satisfaction you had seen on Jake's face. Jay listened in silence, his jaw tightening more and more with every sentence. His fingers flexed against his mug. He knew how your family operated, and he knew how much pressure you were already under without a random girl adding fuel to the fire.

"She called me a parasite, Jay," you breathed, your fingers tracing a crack in the wooden table. "And he just swallowed it. He stood there and defended her while Jake just played the helpless bystander."

"Lila's a parasite," Jay grunted, his tone dropping into that protective tone he got whenever someone pushed you too far. "And you stepdad’s an idiot if he can't see through a basic communications major's act. You shouldn't have to apologize for a damn thing. If she speaks to you like that again, I'll come over there myself."

He reached across the table, his warm palm covering your cold fingers, squeezing them gently. He was being exactly what he always was; reliable, supportive, and grounded. He was the perfect shield against the psychological games being played down the hall from your bedroom.

You looked down at his hand, then up at his face. His eyes were entirely focused on you, full of a genuine concern. The thought hit you suddenly, clear against the chaos in your head. It was the only way to end the game. The only way to stop Jake from looking at you with that smug certainty.

"Jay," you said, cutting off his train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"Be my boyfriend."

He froze. The anger vanished from his expression, replaced by a sudden stillness. His thumb stopped moving against the back of your hand. He stared at you, his eyes scanning your face to see if you were joking, yet your expression was dead serious.

"What?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the assurance he usually carried around you completely evaporating.

"They look at Jake, and they see someone who has everything under control," you said, your voice tight as you leaned across the table, desperately trying to make him understand the logic in your head. "They see the perfect grades, the perfect, compliant attitude, and now the perfect girlfriend. And then they look at me and just see a problem that needs to be managed."

He watched you, his jaw slightly set, listening to the edge of panic in your voice.

"If I go back there alone, his dad is just going to keep pushing me into a corner," you continued, your fingers tightening around his. "My mom is going to keep dropping hints, and Lila is going to keep using them as a shield to take shots at me. I need a reason for them to finally back off. I need them to see that I have my own life, my own stability, and that I don't need their approval or their charity."

You swallowed hard, looking directly into his dark eyes. "If we’re together, officially, they can’t say anything. You’re already a fixture around the house. Jake’s dad respects you. My mom likes you. If you're my boyfriend, it changes the entire narrative. They'll finally leave me alone."

Jay let out a long, slow breath through his nose. He didn't pull his hand away, but he leaned back against the vinyl booth, his eyes searching yours with a conflicted expression. He wasn't stupid ; he could tell this proposal was born out of a sudden, chaotic explosion of rage and self-defense rather than a sudden realization of feelings.

Yet, as he looked at your pale, shivering frame wrapped in his oversized leather jacket, the protective instinct that had driven him to pull you out of the cold won.

"You're using me as a shield," Jay said flatly. There was no anger in his voice, only an acceptance of the reality. A familiar smirk finally returned to the corner of his mouth, stripping away the tension. "You know that, right?"

"Jay, please—"

"I didn't say no," he murmured, his thumb resuming its slow, stroke across the back of your hand. He tilted his head, his gaze turning steady and reassuring. "If playing the boyfriend keeps your stepdad off your back and shuts that girl up, I'm in. We’ll make it official. Let them think whatever they want."

A wave of pure relief washed over you, but beneath it, a cold, intrusive thought flickered in your mind. You weren't just building a shield against Jake’s dad and Lila.

You were drawing a definitive line in the sand for Jake.

The long table was set for six this time, the fine china and polished silver catching the reflection of the huge chandelier above. A week had passed since the blowout in the living room, and the air in the dining room was filled with a superficial civility.

Jay sat beside you, his presence solid and grounding. He wore a structured dark blazer over a black sweater. Across the table sat Lila, her posture rigidly perfect, and Jake, who had returned to his slouched, unthreatening posture, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he watched his plate.

"It’s just so wonderful that you two finally made it official," your mother said, beaming across the table at you and Jay. "Jay has been such a steady presence around here. It’s a relief to see you settling down, sweetie."

As you were about to answer, Jake’s fork clicked sharply against his plate. Without looking up, a quiet, raspy chuckle escaped him.

"Yeah, it’s great," Jake murmured, his voice carrying that hesitant, soft-spoken edge. "It’s really...convenient. Especially since Jay is always around to help you finish things you can't manage on your own."

The jab was subtle and the undercurrent was sharp. You tightened your grip on your napkin beneath the table.

"Some people appreciate actual support, Jake," you said, your voice dripping with a cold, even sweetness. "Not everyone thrives on being completely isolated and keeping secrets from the people they're supposedly close to."

Lila blinked, her smile tightening, while his dad paused with his wine glass halfway to his mouth. Jay remained relaxed, his large hand resting casually on the table, though his eyes slowly shifted toward Jake.

"Oh, I don't think Jake keeps secrets," Lila chimed in, her voice pitched in that sweet, defensive cadence. "He’s just private. There’s a difference between being private and just not having much to share."

"Exactly," you shot back, looking directly at Jake now, completely ignoring Lila. "Sometimes people stay quiet because they’re carefully calculating exactly what character they need to play next. It must be exhausting, constantly performing for an audience."

Jake slowly lifted his head. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes wide and blinking with that fake innocent look, but the gaze behind the lenses was freezing, drilling straight into you.

"I just think it's important to be honest about what you want," Jake said softly, his delivery soft despite the slight hesitation in his tone. "Some people ask for space, and then the second they get it, they find someone else to fill the void because they can't handle being alone with their own choices."

"I'm perfectly happy with my choices," you snapped, the bickering escalating past the boundaries of casual dinner conversation. "At least my choices are real. I don't need a prop to make myself look normal to my family."

"Is everything alright over there?"Jake’s dad interrupted, his brow furrowed as his eyes darted between you and Jake. The tension between the two of you was undeniable, vibrating across the table like a live wire, completely overshadowing the presence of the two partners you had both brought as shields.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Sim," Jay said, his low, steady voice cutting through the pressure. A faint, cocky smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he casually draped his arm over the back of your chair, pulling you slightly closer to him. "Jake’s just looking out for his step-sister. Right, man?"

Jake’s eyes dropped to Jay’s arm on your shoulder. For a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening just enough for the muscle to twitch underneath his cheek. The fake shyness flickered, revealing the cold, territorial sharpness underneath, before he quickly forced a small, compliant nod.

"Right," Jake murmured, his voice dropping into a flat, hollow register as he looked back down at his food. "Just looking out for her."

──────

The bedroom door closed behind you, shutting out the suffocating residue of the dining room. Jay threw his blazer onto the desk chair and collapsed onto the edge of your bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. He let out a long, low whistle, shaking his head.

"Damn," he muttered, a rough chuckle escaping him. "The air in that room was toxic. I thought Jake was going to snap his fork in half when I put my arm around you."

"He's just trying to get a reaction," you said, your heart still beating a little too fast from the adrenaline of the bickering. You rubbed the back of your neck, trying to shake the tension. "Do you want some tea? I need something to take the edge off."

Jay looked up, his expression softening into that grounded smile. "Yeah. Black, if your mom hasn't hidden it. Thanks."

You offered him a quick nod and stepped back out into the hallway. The mansion was quiet now, the carpets muffling your socks as you navigated the dim second-floor corridor toward the back staircase. The shadows were long, illuminated only by the pale winter moonlight cutting through the arched windows.

You turned the corner near the closets, and a hand clamped firmly around your upper arm.

You couldn’t even gasp as you were hauled backward into the deep recess of a recessed doorway. Back first, you hit the wood paneling with a dull thud. Jake’s tall frame instantly filled your vision, blocking the hallway light, his chest nearly pressed against yours.

"What the—"

"Shut up," he hissed.

He wasn't wearing his glasses, and his eyes were dark and wide, completely stripped of the ice-cold control he usually carried. His fingers were dug into the flesh of your arm, tight enough to bruise. He was breathing heavily through his nose, his jaw clenching so hard the bone looked sharp.

"Let go of me." you whispered fiercely, your voice low but lethal. "Jay is literally down the hall."

"I don't give a fuck where he is," he rumbled, his voice a ragged whisper. He leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his grip tightening until you winced. "What are you doing? Huh? What the hell was this little stunt downstairs?"

"It’s not a stunt," you shot back, keeping your voice to a quiet thread. "He’s my boyfriend. I told you I was done with your games, and I meant it. Move."

"Your boyfriend?" Jake let out a quick, erratic sound that was half-laugh, half-growl, his composure fracturing completely right in front of you. He looked unhinged, his eyes scanning your face with a possessive panic you had never seen in him before. "You’re using him. You don't look at him the way you looked at me back in summer break. You don't touch him like that. You're doing this to punish me."

"I'm doing this because he actually treats me like a person." you hissed, pressing your palms against his chest to push him away, but he was a solid, unyielding wall. "He doesn't play sick psychological mind games for five months."

"He’s my fucking friend," Jake’s voice cracked into a whisper as he grabbed your other arm, pinning you completely against the wall. He was losing his mind, unraveling at the seams because the data didn't fit his script anymore. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to give yourself to him just because you're mad at me. I told you I was leaving you alone because you asked for it, and you go and throw yourself at the one person who stays in this house?"

"It’s over, Jake," you mumbled, staring straight into his panicked, fractured eyes, trying to hide the way your own chest was heaving. "You lost. Now let me go."

He stared down at your lips, his breathing hot against your skin, his hands trembling against your arms as if he were fighting the urge to completely tear down the hallway and everything in it. The panic in his eyes hardened into something desperate and volatile. Before you could draw a breath to yell for Jay, Jake lunged forward, his mouth crashing onto yours with an intensity that entirely erased the five months of silence between you. The kiss was messy, and laced with a deep possessiveness. He trapped your wrists against the wood paneling, crowding your body into the wall until you could feel the heavy thumping of his heart against your chest. He tasted like the bitter red wine from dinner, his lips moving against yours with a growing hunger that completely betrayed the polite act he had been putting on at the table.

For a terrifying split second, your body remembered the villa—remembered the heat of Spain and the way he used to pull you into the dark corners of the pool house. A traitorous spark of adrenaline flared in your veins, your fingers tightening instinctively against his sweater.

Jake groaned against your mouth in a low, desperate sound of victory as he felt your slight hesitation. He leaned his entire weight into you, his head tilting to deepen the kiss, his grip on your wrists loosening just enough to slide his hands up to cup your face, his thumbs pressing hard against your jawline as if he could anchor you to him forever. Then, the reality of the situation crashed back over you. Jay was sitting just fifty feet away. Jay, who had put his reputation on the line to shield you. Jay, who was actually gentle with you.

You tore your mouth away from his, gasping for air, and used every ounce of your strength to shove your forearms against his chest.

"Stop it." you breathed, your voice sounding like a terrified whisper. Your lips were burning, and your chest heaved as you glared at him, horror and hatred warring in your eyes. "Don't you dare touch me."

Jake stumbled back half a step, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His hair was messy, his lips were damp and flushed, and his eyes were completely dark, staring at you.

"I only have eyes for you," Jake choked out, the words ripping from his throat. He took another step toward you, his hands hovering in the space between you as if he couldn't decide whether to grab you again or pull his own hair out. "I'm done. I'm so fucking tired of being cold to you."

You stared at him, your back pressed flat against the wall, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

"Do you have any idea what it’s been like?" he asked, his voice shaking. He pressed a hand against his forehead, his fingers trembling. "Watching you walk around this house for five months, pretending like everything never happened? Forcing myself to stay away because I thought it was what you wanted? I thought if I gave you space, if I played the game, but then you bring that fucking asshole here."

His eyes snapped back to yours. "I tried to leave you alone," he mumbled, taking another step closer, trapping you in the recess of the doorway once again. "But I can't look at you sitting next to Jay. I can't watch him put his hands on you. It's driving me fucking insane. It's only ever been you."

"You are a disgusting, pathetic hypocrite," you spat, your voice trembling through the dark hallway. You didn't care about the danger anymore, the absurdity of his confession filled you with a blinding, visceral disgust. "You think you can play god with everyone's feelings, ignore me for months, parade that girl around our parents, and then corner me like you own me? You're a fucking psycho, Jake. You’re nothing but a parasite who feeds on drama because your brain is fucked up."

You expected him to flinch or that the insults to finally crack whatever was left of his ego.

But a slow shift happened right in front of you. The desperate panic in his eyes suddenly melted into something intensely focused. His chest heaved as he let out a low breath that sounded almost like a sigh of relief. A crooked smile slowly pulled at his lips in a twisted expression of pure satisfaction. He leaned his forehead forward, almost touching yours, his gaze dropping to your fiercely parting lips as you yelled at him.

He liked it. Hearing you tear into him, seeing the absolute malice and hatred in your eyes, was doing something entirely different to him. It was a sick validation. Your anger proved how deeply he had affected you, and the sheer heat of your venom was turning him on.

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice dropping, sending a shiver of pure dread down your spine. His hands slid down to firmly grip the wood paneling on either side of your head, pinning you with his weight as he stared down at you, completely intoxicated by your anger. "Tell me how sick I am. I love it when you look at me like that."

Yeah, he is really fucked up in the head. You shoved your hands against his chest, catching him off guard just enough to slip past his frame, and bolted down the hallway toward the kitchen. Your hands shook as you made the tea, your mind a chaotic blur, but you forced yourself to walk back upstairs and hand Jay his mug without dropping it. You didn't say a word about what happened in the hallway.

──────

Weeks bled into each other. You used Jay as the shield you promised you would, staying at his place as much as possible, drawing a hard line between yourself and the mansion.

But by the day before New Year’s Eve, you couldn't avoid it anymore. Your parents had been away on a winter trip for a week, leaving the sprawling house completely empty—except for you, Jay, and Jake.

To break the heavy atmosphere of the afternoon, Jay had suggested making brownies, and surprisingly, Jake had joined.

"Did you add the vanilla?" Jay asked, leaning against the marble island, casually spinning a wooden spoon between his fingers.

"Yeah, two teaspoons," Jake murmured. He was back in his oversized knit sweater, his glasses sitting low on his nose as he carefully measured out the cocoa powder. He sounded quiet, hesitant—the perfect picture of the harmless step-brother. "It should...it should be enough."

"Yeah, that’s good. Don't want them tasting like cardboard," Jay chuckled, completely oblivious to the undercurrents. He reached over and clapped Jake on the shoulder. "You're actually not terrible at this."

"Thanks," Jake said softly, offering a shy, compliant smile.

You stood by the sink, rinsing the measuring cups, keeping your back mostly turned to them. The small talk between the two of them was agonizing to listen to, a veneer of normal friendship masking the absolute chaos hidden just beneath the surface.

"I’m gonna go use the restroom real quick," Jay said, setting the spoon down. He walked past you, pressing a quick, warm kiss to the side of your head. "Don't burn the chocolate while I'm gone."

"Won't happen," you murmured, forcing a small smile until his footsteps faded down the hall, followed by the distant click of the bathroom door.

The moment the door closed, the kitchen fell into an absolute silence.

The clinking of Jake's bowl stopped. You kept your eyes fixed on the soapy water in the sink, your muscles locking up as you heard the quiet scuff of his slippers against the tile. He moved slowly until he was standing right behind you, his tall frame blocking the light from the kitchen window.

"You're still doing it," he whispered.

Without touching you, he leaned in close enough that his breath brushed the damp hairs at the nape of your neck.

"It makes me sick," Jake murmured, his voice tight, laced with bitterness. "Seeing you sit next to him. Watching him touch you at the table. And hearing you...hearing you fuck him in your bedroom down the hall. It’s driving me completely out of my mind."

You clenched your hands into fists beneath the soapy water, refusing to turn around and look at him. "Just leave the house, then. Nobody is forcing you to listen."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though there was no real regret in his tone. You could only feel the urgency and desperation. "I'm sorry I'm like this. But I need you to stop. I need you to stop doing that with him. It's mine. You know it is."

You let out a laugh, finally turning around to face him. You leaned back against the edge of the sink, crossing your arms, your eyes dripping with absolute malice.

"You are a delusional freak," you said, keeping your voice to a vicious and quiet hiss so it wouldn't carry down the hall. "You don't own me, and you never did. I will do whatever I want with Jay, in any room I want, and you can sit in your little corner and choke on it. I don’t give a single fuck."

His eyes widened, the pupils dilating until they were almost entirely black. His chest rose and fell in a uneven rhythm. That twisted smile crawled back onto his face, his jaw clenching as he took a shallow breath, completely intoxicated by the venom pouring out of your mouth.

"God, you're so mean to me," he gasped out, his voice deepening. He didn't even try to hide it. He took a slow half-step back, his hands shoved into his pockets, pulling the fabric of his trousers tight.

Your eyes involuntarily dropped, and your breath hitched. Through the fabric of his pants, the hard, prominent ridge of his arousal was stark and entirely undeniable. He was fully turned on, standing in the middle of your family’s kitchen, completely exposed by the sheer weight of your hatred.

"See?" Jake whispered, his gaze locking back onto your eyes with a sick, triumphant satisfaction. "Look what you do to me."

You stared at the ridge through his trousers, a wave of disgust mixed with an unbelievable power trip crashing over you. He was completely at your mercy, reduced to a trembling, depraved mess just by the sound of your insults. A mocking smile pulled at the corners of your lips. You leaned back against the marble counter, tilting your head as you looked down at him like he was something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

"You want me to stop?" you asked, your voice a quiet, biting purr. "You want me to accept that pathetic little apology?"

Jake nodded rapidly, his breathing shallow, his eyes fixed on your mouth with an almost feral intensity. "Yes. Please."

"Fine," you whispered, letting out a short, sarcastic laugh. "I’ll accept it. But only if you get down on your knees right now and beg for my forgiveness. Let's see how much you actually mean it, freak."

It was a joke. A mocking taunt meant to humiliate him further, to show him how ridiculous he was being.

The words had barely left your mouth before his knees hit the hard kitchen tile. He didn't care about his pride ; he didn't care about the ridiculous oversized sweater pooling around his thighs. He knelt right there at your feet, looking up at you through his eyelashes, his hands resting flat on his knees. The angle forced him to look up at you, completely submissive, his chest heaving as he stared at you like you were a deity.

"Please forgive me," Jake whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and intense arousal. He leaned his forehead forward until it almost touched the hem of your jeans. "Forgive me for being cold. Forgive me for everything."

The absurdity of the sight. The arrogant, brilliant Jake brought to his knees in a fraction of a second. It almost made your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t even process the weight of what he was doing, the distant sound of a door clicking open echoed down the hallway.

Jay’s footsteps were heading back toward the kitchen.

You were about to kick him away, but Jake’s hands shot forward, his fingers gripping the sides of your waist with a bruising force. He leaned his face straight into you, slightly lifting your shirt enough to expose your skin, and pressing his mouth firmly against it, right over your lower tummy. The heat of his breath was too much, his lips parting in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss that made your entire body lock up in pure shock.

The sound of Jay’s sneakers was right outside the kitchen threshold.

In one fluid motion, Jake released your waist. His hand swept across the tile, his fingers wrapping around the handle of the wooden spoon that had been resting on the edge of the island. By the time Jay stepped over the threshold, Jake was already pushing himself up from the floor, his spine curving back into that unthreatening position.

"Hey," Jay said, stopping in his tracks as he looked between the two of you. His brow furrowed, his eyes darting from your flushed, frozen expression to Jake, who was casually wiping the wooden spoon with a paper towel. "What’s going on in here? Why were you on the floor?"

Jake lifted his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a shy, apologetic smile. His voice was instantly back to a hesitant stutter.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," Jake stammered, holding up the spoon as if it were evidence. "I was...I was trying to spin the spoon like you did, and I dropped it. It rolled right under the counter. I was just trying to reach it."

Jay looked at the spoon, then at Jake’s harmless, blinking face. The explanation was flawless, delivered with the exact amount of awkward embarrassment you would expect from him.

"Man, you're being clumsy these days," Jay laughed roughly, the last trace of suspicion evaporating from his face. He walked over to the island, completely missing the way your hands were still shaking against the edge of the sink, and clapped Jake on the back. "Don't worry about it. Let's just get these brownies in the oven."

"Yeah," Jake murmured softly, his eyes shifting sideways behind his lenses to lock onto yours. A satisfied smirk playing at the very edge of his mouth. "Let's finish up."

Hours passed. The rumble of Jay’s car pulling out of the driveway finally signaled the end of the evening. After the brownies were finished, you had practically forced yourself to act normal, hiding the tremor in your hands until he finally had to head back to his dorm.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you bolted up the stairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you. You collapsed against the wood, your chest heaving as the absolute silence of the mansion rushed back in to fill the space. You walked over to your vanity, gripping the edges of the marble, and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your lips were still slightly flushed, and your mind was a spinning wreck.

You tried to conjure up the disgust. You tried to force yourself to feel the righteous anger that usually shielded you from him. But as you stood there in the quiet of your room, a completely different thought began to take root.

Seeing him on the floor. On his knees.

The boy who had spent five months playing god with your head, dropping to his knees the absolute second you demanded it. The way his voice had trembled, begging for your forgiveness while looking up at you through his eyelashes like you held his entire world in your hands.

It was twisted. It was entirely weird. But as you stared at your reflection, you couldn't deny the hot, intoxicating rush that stirred in your stomach.

It hadn't just shocked you. It had done something to you.

For months, you had been the one feeling powerless, backed into corners by his shifting masks and psychological games. But now, you had brought him to his knees with a single, mocking joke. He was completely, utterly depraved for your attention, so desperate that he would throw away every ounce of his pride just to touch the hem of your jeans.

A realization washed over you, sending a sharp thrill down your spine. You didn't want him to stop. Not anymore.

You wanted to see how much further he would go. You wanted to see just how low the perfect, brilliant Jake would crawl if you pushed him. He thought he was the one pulling the strings, but he had just handed you the leash. For now, you realized you wanted to play with him.

──────

The house was dead quiet.

You stood in front of your full-length mirror, adjusting the straps of a silk, deep-V pajama top. It was entirely too revealing for a casual study session, clinging to your skin and dipping low enough to ensure that any glance your way would be a deliberate choice. You threw a thick, oversized cardigan over it ; leaving it completely unbuttoned so it draped loosely off one shoulder ; and grabbed your biology textbooks.

You walked down the hall and knocked on his door.

"Come in," his voice called out, thin and hesitant.

When you pushed the door open, Jake was sitting at his desk, the blue light of his laptop reflecting off his glasses. He was hunched over, looking every bit the studious academic.

"Hi," you said smoothly, stepping into his room and closing the door behind you with a quiet click. "I'm stuck on these cellular respiration models. Jay is at practice, and since you're the smartest one here, I figured you could help me."

Jake blinked up at you, his posture instantly tightening. His eyes darted down to the textbooks in your arms, but as you stepped closer into the warmth of his desk lamp, his gaze naturally tracked upward.

He froze. His eyes dropped directly to the exposed line of your collarbone, following the deep dip of the silk top. You saw the exact moment his pupils dilated behind his lenses. The air in his throat caught, a subtle, sharp hitch in his breathing that he tried desperately to mask with a cough.

"Oh...uh, yeah. Sure," he stammered, pulling a spare chair over with a slightly trembling hand. He slouched back into his seat, instantly trying to project his usual harmless persona. "I can look at it. Just...lay it out."

You sat down next to him, pulling your chair entirely too close. Your shoulders brushed. You leaned over the desk, intentionally letting the cardigan slip further down your arm, exposing the silk strap and the curve of your chest right in his line of sight.

"It's just this section here," you murmured, your voice dropping into a soft, intimate tone. You tilted your head, looking at him sideways. "I just don't understand the triggers. You're good at triggers, aren't you, Jake?"

His jaw clenched. He stared rigidly at the textbook page, his fingers tight around a mechanical pencil. He was trying so hard to play casual, but the muscle in his jaw was ticking violently.

"It's just basic ATP synthesis," he said, his voice dropping out of the nervous stutter into a flat, strained monotone. He refused to look at you, keeping his eyes glued to the diagram. "If you actually read the text instead of...distracting yourself, you'd get it."

"Am I distracting myself?" you asked innocently. You leaned in even closer, your warmth radiating against his arm. You reached across him to point at a graph, your chest practically brushing his elbow. "Or am I distracting you?"

Jake let out a frustrated breath through his nose. He abruptly spun his pencil on the desk, his nonchalant act fracturing at the seams. He still didn't turn his head to look at your face as you could feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of your neck, his breathing turning shallow in the quiet room.

"I'm trying to help you study," he muttered, his knuckles turning white against the desk.

"You look a little tense," you teased, a slow, cruel smile spreading across your lips as you watched him unravel. You leaned your chin on your hand, shifting your weight so the silk top shifted with you. "Does my outfit bother you? I thought you said you only had eyes for me."

A familiar coldness washed over his features, and he smoothly leaned back in his desk chair. He turned his head to look at you directly, his expression perfectly calm and entirely empty of the panic from before. He slid his glasses down his nose, staring at you over the frames.

"You think you’re playing a game right now," he said, his voice dropping into a smooth cadence as he kept his eyes locked dead on yours, completely reversing the power dynamic in a single breath. "You think because I was on my knees yesterday, you suddenly know how to pull my strings."

He let out a soft humorless chuckle, tilting his head as he scanned your face, looking for the exact edge of your confidence.

"I'm going to give you one warning," he whispered, leaning forward just enough that his shadow completely swallowed yours. His gaze flicked down to your parted lips, then back up to your eyes, brimming with a manipulative certainty. "Stop what you're doing right now. Put the books down, button up your sweater, and walk out of my room." He paused, a clinical smile touching the very corners of his mouth. "Because if you keep pushing this, I am going to get mean. And we both know you aren't built to handle me when I stop playing nice."

A soft laugh escaped your lips, a direct violation of his warning. Instead of backing away, you leaned in even closer, your eyes wide with a mocking defiance.

"Oh yeah ? Make me," you whispered.

His facade cracked instantly. His hand shot out with an intently finality. His fingers wrapped firmly around the front of your throat. He pinned you back into the chair, his grip tight enough to restrict your breath and force your head up, but not enough to hurt. His palm was warm, pressing hard against your windpipe as his thumb dug into the side of your jaw. He leaned over you, his face inches from yours, his breathing rough and hot against your skin.

"You are fucking crazy," he hissed in a rumble. His eyes scanned your face with a mix of anger and the overwhelming arousal he was trying so hard to suppress. "You don't know when to shut up. You really don't."

You swallowed against the pressure of his hand, your pulse hammering violently right against his palm. A intoxicating wave of adrenaline flooded your chest. You let a purely wicked smile spread across your lips.

"That’s too bad. I like being choked," you teased, your voice coming out breathless against his grip. "And I really like getting on your nerves."

He paused as he stared down at your smiling lips, the unadulterated malice and pleasure in your eyes catching him entirely off guard.

Then, a breathy chuckle resonated in his chest. The frustration in his eyes melted into a deeply satisfied heat, his thumb caressing the line of your jaw. "Is that right?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to your exposed collarbone before locking back onto your eyes. "You really are a little monster, angel. Aren't you?"

Your words hung in the heated space between you, sharp and dripping with pure, unadulterated bait. You tilted your head against his palm, your eyes narrowing as you watched the smirk on his face stiffen.

"You talk a big game, Jake," you breathed out, a soft mocking laugh scraping against his thumb. "But you look like you don't actually fuck the way you sound. You like to play the big bad manipulator, but I bet you’re just a total pussy in bed."

The chuckle died in his throat. His jaw locking so hard the muscle beneath his cheek twitched violently. The insult hadn't just turned him on ; it had struck a direct chord with his ego, slicing straight through the clinical detachment he tried so hard to maintain.

For an agonizing second, he didn't move, he stared down at you, his breathing turning incredibly shallow, his fingers tensing against the skin of your throat.

Suddenly, a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. The psychopath that had been clawing to get out since summer break just came back to life. Without letting go of your neck, he leaned down further, his chest pressing firmly against yours, trapping you entirely in the chair as his mouth brushed the shell of your ear.

"Is that what you think?" he murmured. He slid his hand from your throat up to your chin, his fingers digging in just enough to force you to look at him. "You think I'm soft just because I let you think you have a choice?"

He pulled back just enough to look you dead in the eye, his gaze dropping to your parted lips before tracking slowly down to the deep-V of your silk top. "Keep talking like that," he whispered, a promise in his tone. "And I’ll show you exactly how wrong you are. Jay won't even compare."

"Oh. Big talk again, huh?" You mumbled with a provoking smirk on your lips.

That was it. His voice dropped. "Stand up," he commanded. You obeyed instantly, the air between you feeling charged with the electricity of your previous provocations. You were trying to catch your balance but he closed the distance between you. His hands were firm and possessive as he gripped your waist, hauling you toward the bed. You stumbled as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, making you fall back softly on the mattress.

The kiss he pressed against your neck was urgent and demanding, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of heat. You arched your neck, a soft gasp escaping you as he bit down, his mouth finding sensitive spots and marking you with hickeys. He seemed determined to leave his claim on you, his tongue swirling over the red marks he'd just created. You decided to take control. You shifted your weight, straddling his lap. The kiss turned hard, your mouth plundering his with a ferocity that mirrored the tension between you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands, and you heard him let out a low, breathless whimper. The sound was intoxicating, spurring you on.

You could feel him hardening beneath you, a prominent ridge pressing against you through the fabric of your clothes. Your hand moved to the source of his arousal, your fingers tracing the outline of his erection through the material. He let out a deep moan, his hips bucking slightly against your hand, a low grunt escaping his throat as pleasure washed over him.

You didn't stop there. You continued to grind against him, your movements slow. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and the hardness pressing insistently against you. You teased him, dragging your hips back and forth in a rhythm that was agonizingly slow. You wanted to see how much he could take before he lost control completely.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to find purchase. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving against yours. The friction was maddening for him, and he let out a small guttural sound of frustration. He shifted his hips, trying to get more friction, but you held him in place, denying him the release he so desperately wanted.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. "You're so hard for me," you whispered, your voice dripping with a teasing lilt. "Does it feel good?" You continued to tease him, your hands moving to his shoulders, pressing down to increase the pressure.

He couldn't take it anymore. He let out a sharp grunt, his hips jerking forward as he tried to buck you off, but you held him down. He grabbed your ass, his fingers digging in, kneading the soft flesh as he tried to release the tension building inside him. His mouth moved to your neck, his tongue darting out to lick and suck at the sensitive skin. He was desperate to mark you as much as possible, to taste you, to bury himself deep inside you.

"You're going to make me lose it," he growled, his voice strained.

You smirked, feeling the power shift completely in your favor. You stopped grinding against him just enough to make him whine in protest, then leaned down to whisper right against his lips, "You know what I fucking hate? How much I love seeing you pathetic like this. "

His eyes fluttered shut, a ragged moan escaping his throat as he slightly arched his back. "Fuck," he breathed out, his hands trembling as they gripped your ass. "God, yes. I hate it too."

He looked up at you with wide, needy eyes, his chest heaving. "Please," he rasped, the word barely a whisper but filled with such raw desperation that it made your core ache. "I need to touch you. Please, let me."

You adjust yourself slightly, looking down at him with a challenge in your gaze. "Say it for me, Jake." you commanded softly.

"I need to touch you," he repeated, louder this time, and his voice grew with lust. "Please, Y/N."

"Okay. You can touch me," you granted him permission, though you kept your hands hovering over his shoulders. "But you have to be good. Take your time."

His hands moved with eager urgency, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pajama shorts. He didn't waste time, pushing the fabric down just enough to expose you to the cool air, but he didn't stop there. His palms flattened against your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip before sliding down to cup you firmly.

You gasped as he made contact, feeling the heat of his skin. He was impatient, his fingers already moving too fast, trying to rub you through your panties in long, desperate strokes that were far too rough for the moment. You could feel him throbbing against you, his need palpable, but you grabbed his wrists to slow him down.

"Too fast," you scolded him gently, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Slow down. Be good for me."

He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he tried to obey, but his hips jerked involuntarily, his erection pressing firmly against you. He took a deep breath, forcing his fingers to move slower, his touch becoming more exploratory and worshipful, though his restraint was clearly hanging by a thread. You shifted your weight, your hands sliding down his chest to his waistband. His eyes went wide, an abrupt intake of breath catching in his throat as you made contact.

"Look at me," you commanded, your voice steady despite the heat radiating between you. You worked him with a steady, rhythmic pressure that he couldn't fight. You watched the way his head fell back, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to maintain control.

"You're so close," you murmured, your thumb circling the sensitive tip of him through the fabric. "So close to letting go."

He whimpered, his hips bucking up into your hand, chasing the friction you were denying him. "Y/N," he choked out, his voice breaking. "Please."

"You want to come?" you asked, slowing your strokes just enough to make him groan in frustration. "You have to ask nicely."

"I want to come," he rasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Please."

You smiled, feeling the power surge through you. You kept him on the edge, bringing him to the brink and then backing off, over and over again. His breathing became uneven, his chest heaving as he fought for control. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his entire body taut with tension.

Finally, you decided he had suffered enough. You squeezed him firmly, milking him for everything he had, and he cried out as he spilled himself into your hand.

He collapsed back against the mattress, his chest heaving, his eyes glazed over with the afterglow. You pulled your hand away, wiping it on the sheet, and then grabbed his face, standing up.

"I’m sleepy," you said, your voice flat.

He blinked, his brain still foggy from his release, and looked up at you in confusion. "What?"

"I’m sleepy," you repeated, your grip on his face tightening. "Good night."

He sat up slowly, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He could only nod, muttering a quiet "Okay," and as you headed toward the door.

As you left and came back to your room, you lay back on the bed, a satisfied smile on your face.

──────

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, a cup of coffee resting in your hands, when your phone rang on the nightstand.

It was Jay.

"Y/N," Jay said when you answered, his voice carrying its usual easy resonance, though there was a slight hint of hesitation in his tone. "Listen, you’re probably going to be quite upset with me...but I need to be straight with you."

You took a slow sip of your coffee. "What's up?"

"I’m currently flirting with someone," he admitted, letting out a sheepish chuckle over the line. "We're out at a cafe right now. I just wanted to tell you myself before someone saw us and it got back to you. I mean, we're just together for the shield thing anyway, but I didn't want to mess up your narrative without warning you."

A sudden overwhelming wave of relief washed over your shoulders, so intense you almost laughed out loud. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. The fake relationship had served its purpose, and frankly, the leash you had just slipped onto Jake the night before was taking up all of your attention.

"I mean…honestly? It’s completely okay," you said, your voice entirely light and relaxed.

There was a brief pause on the other end, Jay clearly taken aback by how easily you were brushing it off. "Wait, really? You're not mad?"

"Not at all," you murmured, leaning back against your pillows. "In fact, we can just terminate the fake relationship altogether. My parents have completely calmed down over the last few weeks. They think I'm stable and taken care of, so they're totally leaving me alone now. You don't have to play the shield anymore."

"Wow. The contract terminated early, then," Jay joked, the tension completely leaving his voice as he let out a genuine laugh. "You're sure you're good?"

"I'm more than good, Jay. Go get her."

"Thanks. You're the best. See ya around the house," he said, and the line went dead.

You lowered the phone with a scheming smile spreading across your face. You were officially single again. The shield was gone, the boundaries were down, and Jake had absolutely no idea that the one thing keeping him at bay had just disappeared. You couldn't wait to see the look on his face when you told him.

You tossed your phone onto the unmade bed and stepped out into the quiet morning hallway, your silk pajama top still loose under the unbuttoned cardigan. The mansion felt different today ; emptier, but lighter.

As you padded down the grand staircase, the soft, rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso guided you toward the living room. Sunlight poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

Jake was there. He was sitting on the edge of the large sectional, a ceramic mug held between both hands. He had his reading glasses on, a laptop open on the coffee table in front of him, looking every bit the studious academic.

The moment your bare feet stepped onto the hardwood border of the room, his head snapped up. His eyes instantly tracked down to your exposed collarbone, his jaw clenching as the memory of last night’s insults rushed back between you.

"Rough morning?" he murmured, his voice carrying a judgmental edge as he smoothly leaned back. "I guess your savior Jay isn't here to make you breakfast. Shocking how fast the gloss wears off—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

He looked at your face. You were just standing there, looking down at him with a calm, amused, almost pitying smile. The absolute lack of panic in your eyes caught him entirely off guard.

He set his mug down on the table with a soft clink. The defensive sharpness melted off his face, replaced by a sudden wave of desperation. He stood up, his tall frame cutting through the sunlight as he moved across the space between you. He’s not cornering you this time, he smoothly stepped behind you, his long arms sliding around your waist with a soft possessive urgency.

He pulled you back against his chest, trapping your warmth against him. "Please," he whispered as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, his nose brushing against your pulse point as he inhaled deeply, completely intoxicated by the smell of your skin. "Don't look at me like that. Please just forgive me again."

His grip around your waist tightened, his large hands flat against your stomach, anchoring you to him. His entire body was perfectly still, his breathing steady and slow, but you could feel the slight, involuntary tremor in his chest. A soft, choked sound escaped his throat ; a quiet breath that sounded so raw, so close to tears.

Yet, he didn't cry. He remained entirely calm, his heart beating a slow rhythm against your spine. He was fully aware of what he was doing, reducing himself to a clinging mess in the middle of the living room just to feel you yield against him.

"I shouldn't have said that," he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your neck with every word. "I don't care about Jay. I don't care about anyone else. Just don't be mad at me. Tell me you're not mad."

You tilted your head back slightly, letting your hair brush against his shoulder as you relaxed into his chest. A small smirk played at the edge of your lips while his face remained buried in your neck, his arms still wrapped tight and trembling around your waist.

"You really don't need to lose your mind over Jay anymore," you said, your voice entirely casual. "He called me a few minutes ago. We broke up. It’s over."

The effect was instantaneous. Jake froze. His breathing completely stopped against your skin. The desperate, tearful tremor in his chest dissolved, replaced by a total rigid stillness. For a long three seconds, the only sound in the living room was the birds outside.

You could practically feel the gears turning in his smart manipulative brain. Jay was gone. The shield was destroyed. There was no one left standing between him and you. You felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath, his posture instantly straightening as the old arrogant confidence began to flood back into his veins. His grip on your waist shifted, turning from a desperate plea into something possessive.

But before he could open his mouth to deliver whatever victorious comment he was already constructing, you struck. You reached down, wrapping your fingers firmly around his wrists, and forced his arms off your waist. You turned around slowly to face him, stepping back just enough to look him dead in the eye.

The casual warmth was entirely gone from your expression, a cold finality that cut straight through his rising ego installed itself.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you whispered, pinning him to the floor with your gaze. "Jay being gone changes nothing for you. In fact, let’s set the ultimate boundary right now."

Jake blinked behind his glasses, his smirk faltering before it could even fully form.

"If you ever want to touch me again—if you ever want to kiss me, corner me, or even look at me the way you did last night—it will be strictly on my terms," you said, each word a slow, harsh strike. "You don't get to play games anymore. You don't get to decide when you're cold and when you're desperate. I pull the strings now. If I tell you to crawl, you crawl. If I tell you to stand there and look pretty, that's exactly what you do. And the second you try to manipulate me or step out of line, I walk away for good, and you can go back to being absolutely nothing to me."

You took a step closer, your eyes dropping to his lips before locking back onto his dark, wide pupils.

"Do you understand me, Jake? My terms. Entirely."

Jake’s chest heaved as your words sank in, the cold finality of your terms washing over him. For a fraction of a second, the residual pride of the master manipulator fought to stay on his face.

Then, it completely shattered.

His pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black, drinking in the absolute authority in your posture. The realization that he was completely at your mercy ; that his access to you was now entirely dependent on his total obedience ; hit him like a physical blow. It didn't anger him nor push him away.

It completely changed him.

His breathing turned shallow in the quiet living room. Your eyes involuntarily flicked downward, and there it was again ; the sharp, prominent ridge stretching the fabric of his trousers, immediate and undeniable. Even in the bright morning sunlight, completely exposed, his body was utterly betraying how much your dominance was turning him on. He was completely wasted by the leash you had just snapped around his neck.

He didn't even try to hide his arousal, he leaned into it, taking an unhurried step forward until he was hovering just inches from you, his hands hovering at his sides, strictly obeying the rule not to touch you without permission.

"Your terms," he whispered, his voice incredibly deep, a low melody of pure submission. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his head tilting slightly as he offered you his complete surrender. "Anything you want. If you want me to crawl, I'll crawl. But I don't want you to walk away. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

@kookieterry @wonderikii @rikisloverrr @icryforenhypen @hyyhwriter @nodoubtily @teddyberryy @genienha @simjakeyjake @2dolcee @heartheejake @amiiq7 @only4nrkkiii @meowieshibal @ily4hoonity @d1m-cataclysm @blaisehazey @not--christ @svtenfate @goosemantheweeb @wonsveese @beomxmii @kriny2 @sparkcling @simpikeu @zy-1009 @ahgasedaddz @prettygirlthings-world @aussiedogo @elyviaaaaa

[makeitworse]

𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄.

where hoon seemed to take your rejection pretty well until he just… pulls a fucking knife on you?

𓌜 cw. f!rea x sunghoon, jealousy, heavy dubcon, knife play, kissing, grinding, fingering, sadomasochist!hoon. MDNI | 3k

note. this was gonna be short but i got carried away with my yandere freak erm..

“is there anything i can do to change your mind?” he near-pleads.

“i’m sorry, hoon. i just.. can’t.”

you know you don’t have to apologise for your feelings, or rather your lack thereof. you know this, and if he were anyone else, you wouldn’t bother going to the lengths of softening the blow — of gently shutting down each alternative he suggests, each hopeful question he asks.

but it’s your best friend, sunghoon; who proposed to you with a leaf in kindergarten and would cry whenever he had to go home after a playdate. who has steadily fallen even deeper and helplessly in love with you as he grows into his adult years.

you’ve loathed the day that you’d have to do this. you knew it was inevitable; with each hug growing a little tighter, each glance lingering a little lower. but seeing it coming from miles away didn’t make it any easier by the time he did confess.

he laid his beating heart bare, and you had to crush it beneath the heel of your foot.

you just… couldn’t. god if you hadn’t tried.

when you first recognised his feelings for you, back in the puppy love stages, you’d made an effort to will yourself into returning his feelings. to see him in a fraction of the light he sees you.

sunghoon’s, objectively, one of the most attractive men you know. he’s soft-spoken, well-mannered, and he tells shitty dad jokes and is introverted to a fault. he’s the nearest and dearest friendship you’ve ever held. you love him, with your whole heart you do. just not in the way he loves you.

“that’s okay.” he murmurs, final. he casts one last look at you with his glossy eyes — dilated almost entirely to black, a permanent feature whenever they’re on you. “are we still friends?”

“of course, nothing would ever change that.” you give him a reassuring smile. “don’t be crazy.”

you’re pulled from sleep by the soft call of your name.

stirring, you shift in your position — though there’s a weight pressing down on your middle and keeping you locked there. the confusion gets your eyes to flutter open, where you’re met with the blurry figure of your best friend before you.

you blink once to get your vision into focus, smiling at him on instinct. you blink twice and remember you’re in your bed after calling it a night, and sunghoon’s in your place and just… on top of you. it takes a third blink for the absurdity of the situation to settle in.

you’re writhing at this point, your half-asleep brain going into fight or flight mode. sunghoon says something in his low voice that you don’t register. you try to push at him, glancing down to see where his thighs are bracketing your waist. his voice comes again, firmer this time, and you freeze as a glint of sharp metal comes into your line of sight.

“relax, okay? it’s just me.” sunghoon reassures you, pointing a literal knife towards you.

in your dazed state you think scattered thoughts: is this some kind of joke? is he protecting you from danger? is he the danger?

“hoon,” you whine, sounding almost pathetic with how utterly lost you are. “what—”

“i’m sorry i had to disturb your sleep.” he murmurs, his other hand coming to tenderly brush a stray hair from your forehead. you flinch — probably because he’s got you at knife point — and hurt flashes across his face. “i let myself in. don’t worry, i locked the door behind me.”

don’t worry? what the fuck is he on? you could almost think he’s high and out of his mind, but his eyes hold no answer: still swallowed in twin voids as they gaze upon your barely-conscious figure.

you make a pitiful noise as you try to wriggle your hips out from where he’s sitting on them. “but why are you..”

“stop moving, please,” he says hoarsely, a warning when he presses the cold tip of the blade to your neck.

it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room, and then you feel it — the hot, heavy weight of his arousal digging into your pyjama pants. you tip your chin a fraction, careful to not slice your throat out on the knife, and if you had any breath left you’d gasp at the sight of it.

you’ve never put any thought to what sunghoon’s got down there. even through his grey sweats he’s…like, really big. and you’ve shifted under him so much that his solid length is almost digging into your crotch.

“oh..”

sunghoon sucks in a breath of relief now that you’ve stopped squirming against him, and he digs the blade a little further — enough to get your attention but not puncture the skin.

“we’re always honest each other, right? you wouldn’t lie to me?”

your eyes flick back up to his, and your hummingbird heart goes from fluttering in your chest to completely halting.

sunghoon’s pupils… they’re pin sized. a stark contrast to the big, dilated eyes of his you’ve come to adore. the harsh difference actually scares you.

you gulp cautiously, your neck stinging where he puts a slight pressure on the knife in your reluctance.

“….hoon,”

“was it because of jake?” he spits out the name of your mutual friend with an almost unrecognisable venom laced in his tone.

you’re taken aback so much that you manage to find your voice again. “what?”

“is there something you’re not telling me?” his voice softens a little when he addresses you, but you can still hear the jealousy simmering under the surface. can feel the way his hand tremors as adrenaline pumps hot in his veins. “is he in the way of us being together?”

“what the actual fuck, hoon? are you serious right now? this has to be some sort of—”

“i’m not mad, so don’t make me.” he cuts you off, sounding like he’s two seconds from losing it. your throat sears where he presses the knife in as a sharp reminder. you wonder if he’s just split the skin. “i just want the closure.”

does he think there’s a roadblock in the way of your affections? that you can’t give yourself to him because you’re… distracted? fooled? by someone else? by jake, who has done literally fucking nothing except hang-out with you yesterday because hoon’s been acting like a kicked puppy since you rejected him and you felt like shit?

that’s some crazy cope. here you were, thinking your bond could grow even stronger now that you’ve both shrugged the weight of his confession off of your shoulders and settled on moving forward.

all these years you’ve been so caught up in hating yourself for being physically incapable of returning his feelings, that you haven’t been able to see the reasons why for what they were: red flags.

the lash-outs when you spent your time with any man who wasn’t park sunghoon. the way he’d bombard you with affections to keep you fond of him and unable to voice your frustrations; the way he’d leech on to you to keep you from going too far or too long without him.

now all of those glaring signs have escalated and manifested into the form of a blade at your pulse.

“didn’t i do enough?” he sounds like a sulking child as he says it. “i tortured myself for years just to wait for you. can’t you feel how much i need you?” he bucks his pelvis once, the firm outline of said need digging into the flesh of your ass. “can’t you feel how much it hurts??”

with a cock that big, that hard, yeah; he probably is in pain.

against your better judgment — at the alarm sirens ringing in your head — you press your thighs together just at the sheer size of him, and your breath hitches when you feel the slick pooled in your pyjamas.

sunghoon’s eyes widen as he feels your every movement beneath him. the corner of his lip curls in a knowing smirk.

“you’re playing hard to get.” he coos like he’s seen right through you, his free hand pinching your chin. “just want to see if i’ll keep chasing you, hm? it’s alright, baby, i don’t judge.”

the switch-flipped in his demeanour gives you whiplash. it’s almost like you’ve subdued a rabid animal from baring its teeth, and all it took was the suggestion that you don’t completely hate this.

which, you’d be a bad liar if you said you did.

sunghoon’s hot, he’s packing a monster, and he is begging for you like you’re his only saving grace. any other girl would fold sooner than you in this same situation, you think.

even if he’s got you at knife point, you haven’t once thought he’d outright stab you. no, sunghoon loves you — just, evidently he thought you wouldn’t take him seriously unless he showed you. desperate measures and all.

“you know how much you mean to me, hoon,” you say in a gentle lull to placate him. “i’m scared of change, if it might ruin what we have. the last thing i want is to hurt you.”

it’s all true. you didn’t want to break his heart any more with your initial rejection, choosing to leave out the details and focus on consoling him instead. you just didn’t think it’d come back to bite you in the ass (or rather, slice you in the throat).

his pin-sized pupils swallow all the white as they return to their usual state: black eclipsing his eyes in overwhelming love for you.

he replies breathlessly, “what if i want you to hurt me?”

mindlessly, his grip around the knife starts to falter and relieves some of the pressure. if you keep telling him what he wants to hear, you might get him weak enough to snatch it from his—

sunghoon closes the distance before you can finish that train of thought. at first, you just freeze out of the shock, feeling unfamiliar lips moving against yours.

you push at him when his tongue tries to slide into your mouth — body acting on instinct over the intrusion.

sunghoon looks at you like he’s … well, crazy. the brown of his irises have disappeared into the black saucers, eyes blown wide open and mouth split in a grin.

his words ring in your ears. he wants you to hurt him. you’re just playing hard to get so he keeps trying.

the fingers pinching your chin stretch around your jaw, and you wince when his grip tightens. he rotates the knife to hold it horizontally to your larynx, provoking you to shove him as he leans in to kiss you again.

instead of reacting harsher like you know he wants, this time you take it. you hold back a grimace when he goes straight in with tongue, darting it around your mouth and groaning down your throat. he kisses you like you’ve never done this before, like you wouldn’t know any better than him.

“i can make you feel good.” he sighs between frenzied kisses of tongue and teeth. “i need it, please.”

even if it sounds like a question, you know he’s not asking.

“ah—” his breath hitches when his hips buck forward, the outline of his cock nudging your clothed heat. despite yourself, his little noise sends a pulse straight to your core. he’s pressed so close that he feels it and whimpers in tandem.

your skin flares as it reacts to the sensations he’s rising in you, regardless of the circumstances. you’re spurred on by his gasps onto your lips as he grinds into you, by his cock applying friction to your clit just right until finally, you kiss him back.

he lets out something like a ragged moan when you lick into his mouth, hard like how he wants it. his body’s vibrating on top of you with all the energy taut inside him.

sunghoon hadn’t planned for any of this: he only brought the knife to jimmy your locked door, and thought he could use it to intimidate you into truthfully answering his suspicions about jake.

by the time he crawled on top of your sleeping form though, he was already helplessly hard, and got a little too carried away with the power trip once you finally woke up…

for him, the world narrows down to you. he can’t think about what’s right or what a sane person would do when all he wants is to have you.

even if he has to hurt you a little, just to prove he can affect you a sliver of the amount you affect him. it’s especially worth it if you hurt him back — just the fact he could rise such a reaction out of you.

it’s why he lets go of your jaw and wedges his hand down to cup you through your pyjama pants without warning. you don’t miss a beat in kissing him, even rolling yourself onto his palm to chase the friction he offers.

sunghoon’s on cloud fucking nine. even if he can’t provoke you into yelling at or hitting him for acting without explicit permission, you’re still responding and enjoying this, so it’s a win anyways.

he rubs his fingers over the shape of you, eyes rolling back into his head when he notices how damp the fabric’s gotten. he could almost think it’s all his own precum he’s humped onto you, but your pants are sticking to the skin, and he can perfectly feel each ridge like you’re—

he shoves his hands down the front of your pants and moans over the revelation. you haven’t been wearing underwear.

you’re so fucking wet. he thinks this is the hardest he’s ever been and still his cock rises a little more when his lithe fingers glide over the sticky mess of your folds.

all of this, for him? even after all your efforts to convince him you didn’t want him?

“did you really believe i could ever get over you? fuuck—” his cuss breaks off into a groan when he dips a fingertip into your hole just to feel the warmth. “you’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“i don’t want to.” you grit out, hugging him around his neck just because you feel like having him close. it’s a habit of yours when anyone’s getting you off, but if sunghoon found out he’s not special he’d probably turn the knife on himself.

he nuzzles himself into your neck, lowering the knife just to lick a stripe across the indent it left from the consistent pressure. it’s not quite a cut, but you still whine from the tenderness of the spot. sunghoon takes it as a sound of pleasure, and he closes his mouth to suckle on the skin.

you have to give your best friend the credit, he actually knows his way around down there. sunghoon gathers the pooled arousal on his index and middle before swiping upwards to where your nerves are tingling. it elicits a jolt from your cunt through to your whole body, and you moan nastily when his fingers starts drawing hurried circles on your clit.

“give it to me please, please,” he begs between peppering your throat with hickeys. you don’t know if he means your orgasm or maybe letting him inside.

your arms wrap tighter around his neck and he moans, pelvis rocking into your thigh like he’ll fuck anything he can get. his head raises to catch your lips in a kiss that’s more spit and moans than anything.

he wishes you’d just strangle the air out of him or chew his tongue off. he wishes you’re the one who woke him up, straddling his lap and holding him at knife point instead. but he forgives you, baby. he’s okay with making the first moves until you’re not holding yourself back anymore. he’s a patient man, the years of restraint and downright torture can attest to that.

you throw your head back, clenching down on nothing as his hand impatiently works at you. he’s waited too long to give a fuck about savouring this or dragging it out.

it’s like he’s read your mind about aching to feel full when his fingers slide easily into your wet core, pumping you as his thumb fills their absence on your clit. 

and when he crooks his fingers just right into that tender spot, white light bursts behind your eyes as your orgasm slams into you.

you’re not sure how long you rode it out for — sunghoon’s hands staying diligent on your pussy to fuck you through it, his clothed cock humping on your thigh as if it’s inside you instead.

by the time you come to, your breath is ragged from the strain on your voice. you blink the tears away from your eyes, vision coming into focus on sunghoon sucking your cum from his fingers.

“can’t believe i wasted so much time imagining this.” sunghoon mutters to himself, licking under his nails. his imagination was almost an insult to you with how it couldn’t even begin to compare.

you just watch him, waiting for his next move. he’s full of surprises as you’ve just learned.

once he’s sure he’s lapped up every last drop from his hand, he wipes the spit off on his pants before grabbing your wrist. at that, you take notice of the wet patch at the front of his sweats. he must’ve orgasmed somewhere during yours.

sunghoon slips the hilt of the knife into your palm, guiding your fingers to curl around it. you can only watch in disbelief as he pulls your wrist and taps the blade to his own throat — face alight in a wicked grin.

“it’s your turn to be selfish.” he tells you with a hoarse, low voice. he palms at his still-hard cock, whimpering at the sensitivity. “go on. take whatever you want from me.”

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[makeitworse]

pt2 . . unprotected sex, he gets cut a lil, choking/slapping, more masochism, hoon is insane. MDNI | 2.4k

note. ok, i was indecisive but i was not expecting all the love on this so i kinda had to :O this got even freakier kfkdjdj

“go on. take whatever you want from me.”

there’s a suspended moment of disbelief. only half a second for you, in which you run through all the possibilities of how this can go in your head — but for sunghoon is a torturous amount of time. he’s too fucking hard for this.

you came to his fingers and he can still taste it on his tongue. he orgasmed purely from the tune of your moans and the plush of your thigh — and still his cock stands painfully upright in his soiled pants.

one’s not enough. he jerks off to the thought of you multiple times a day, has been since he hit puberty and realised he wanted to fuck his best friend. no, one doesn’t surmount the years with nothing but his fragile imagination and hand that physically couldn’t withstand the demand of his lust.

sunghoon needs more. in his impatience he tightens his grip around your wrist to the point he knows it hurts, urging the knife further until it nearly breaks the skin. even if you carved his neck open, he probably wouldn’t even feel it over the throbbing between his legs. does he need to take control of the knife again and threaten to turn it on himself? does he need to threaten you if it’ll means you’ll let him fuck you? ah, he can feel his cock jumping just over the thought of your eyes widening in fear.

he needs it, god fucking damn it. he needs it he needs it he needs it he needs it—

you’ve made up your mind.

sunghoon makes a garbled noise when you snatch the knife back and free your wrist, though the quick movement has the blade slicing his skin with a thin cut. it’s mostly blunt, hence why you’ve come out unscathed (only physically), but he had it pressed that fucking hard into his own skin that it managed to cut him.

…he’s actually insane. you’re starting to question your own survival instincts. you have no idea how all this managed to fly over your head with a friendship that’s lasted from childhood.

you have no idea how he made you cum when he woke you up with a fucking knife and a boner pressed into your sleeping body. and you have no fucking idea why you grab him by the collar of his shirt, throw him down onto the mattress and sit right on the wet patch of his sweats.

of course he’s fucking giggling like a kid on christmas. the moon streaming through your curtains is the only source of light in the room, and in the dark it looks like there’s no white left in his eyes. you don’t doubt his greedy dilating pupils could swallow the entirety of it; he’s crazy enough about you.

sunghoon’s only spurred on by the fact you cut him, his cock pulsing your name where it’s pressed under your ass. he already knew you were perfect, but fuck, is he supposed to just let you leave the house now when he could trap you here and keep this all to himself?

it’s like you’re just asking for it when you lean down to kiss him, not even holding back as your teeth scrape at his lips and your tongue delves so deep like you’re trying to choke him on it. he’d die happy y’know.

sunghoon fumbles around for the hand holding the knife, intending to drag it back up to his neck before you do the honours yourself. you part with him, a string of saliva connecting your lips that sunghoon pulls right back in with his teeth. you grimace.

“be honest with me, hoon. were you going to hurt me if i didn’t let you? if i screamed and fought you?” your voice wavers just a little, the thought of your best friend doing such a thing rattling your bones. you can’t say what he’d be willing to do anymore though. you don’t know if you know him now, if you ever have.

sunghoon can’t help but smile at you; you’re too pretty holding that knife at him like he can’t easily overpower you, like you could ever be angry at him when he’s spent years sucking up to you so that it’d only bring immense guilt.

“depending on my answer, what will you do to me?”

your frown deepens at his reply, while he’s still helplessly smiling.

his honest to god answer is that he broke in charged by pure rage with no solid plan, and when he got on top of you he started thinking entirely with his cock. of course he wouldn’t hurt you, he’s not fucking insane. if you did scream he probably would’ve killed himself, and if you did fight him he probably would’ve came his pants. that’s the truth.

that doesn’t matter though. he wants to say whatever it takes to make you fuck him. or better yet, hit him. he’ll reach his second orgasm either way.

your lower lip trembles, lashes dotting with tears as the blade shakes in your hand. sunghoon thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

“why?” you croak, dropping the knife to the bed. “why, why did you have to be like this? why did you have to do that??”

“this is why,” he says, gently grabbing both of your trembling hands and bringing them to his throat. “i mean it. be selfish. don’t you want to hurt me?” he squeezes your hands with his own, urging you to do it yourself.

“that’s just what you want.” you murmur, screwing your eyes shut to make the tears go away. you know he’d only enjoy it more if you cried.

“then make me regret it. make me sorry.”

tentatively, your fingers adjust where they’re sitting around his neck, finding his pulse that’s thundering under your touch. he’s about to provoke you even more until you just go for it — fingers wrapping so hard you can feel the air leave his throat.

you’re really choking him. you’re pressing down on the cut you left, blood seeping out of his skin and onto yours and it stings and he just keeps smiling wider and wider.

a moan manages to crawl its way past your grip and spill from his lips. you recoil at the sound, snapping out of whatever trance he baited you into.

“i’m sorry.” he says hoarsely, chest completely empty of any air. he can’t even stifle his grin and pretend he didn’t like that. “i regret it.”

a moan rips straight from his throat before he can even register the fact that you slapped him. his cheek’s on fire, and he feels like he could cum just from that.

“liar.”

mindless chuckles spill from sunghoon’s mouth as you pull down his sweats and finally free his cock from its prison. he can’t believe he waited for years when all it took was a knife.

you don’t spit or anything, just lift yourself up and drop right back down, his cock sliding easily into the heat of your pussy.

fuck, you’re still so wet, maybe even wetter than what was on his fingers, fuuuck—

sunghoon blacks out for a few seconds. when he comes back to, you’re staring down at him with a look he can only describe as confusion and… curiosity.

you pulse around him, and his cum gushes around his cock before he realises he even came just from you sitting on it.

the look in your face starts to twist into something else, but he doesn’t get to guess before you’re bouncing on him once.

the moan that comes from him is pitiful. it hurts, really fucking good. you bounce again. and again.

he lays limp under you as you fuck yourself on him, letting out noises that he couldn’t help if he tried. he’s not sure if he managed to put them there or if you did it yourself, but your hands are back on his neck and pressing in enough to make his vision blurry.

this was worth it. everything he had to do and say was worth it. you’re hurting him back and he’s never been so in love. he’ll never fall out of love, in fact.

no doubt tired, your movements grow slower, each time you slam down on him not hurting enough. sunghoon bites down on his lower lip and his hands fly out to your hips, his nails leaving crescent moons in their wake as he keeps your body in place to fuck up into.

his back rises off the bed, every nerve end on fire as his hips ram into you, chasing that familiar tightness in his belly.

you slap him across the face again, for taking over he’s not sure — but the thought’s lost quickly when his orgasm seizes him from the impact of your hand.

he doesn’t miss a beat in fucking his load into you, making sure your insides are completely coated in him. he thrusts one final time once it’s over; pushing until he’s sure he hit your cervix from how you gasp and shove at his chest.

you climb off him yourself, not bothering to cup your pussy and letting his cum spill out all over his clothes. oh well, he’ll just have to give you another one.

you sit back on his thighs, silently observing him as his chests heaves — that same fucking smile plastered onto his face.

his cock twitches, still standing upright, still wanting more.

dumb. you are dumb.

it started when you let all the dubious shit sunghoon’s done over the years slide time and again, but you’re dumb now for doing anything sexual with your best friend whose feelings you know you can’t return. and you just had to let him cum inside you twice.

gone will be the days where you don’t have him breathing down your neck. he’ll never let you out of his sights now, you’re sure of it. in fact it’s already started.

the following morning, you wake up with your chest weighed down by an immense amount of guilt and shame. sunghoon’s there too: limbs wrapped around your body like a noose with his head smushed into your boobs.

you had to convince him to let you go to pee, and even still he followed you to the bathroom and waited outside the door like some clingy dog. he probably would have sat right next to you on the tile if he could’ve.

he spent that entire day and night at your side, trailing behind you even closer than your own shadow. he was also sporting a boner for like, most of it.

sunghoon couldn’t be bothered to hide it. now that you’ve let him taste you once, it’s all he can think about when he looks at you. hell, he doesn’t even need to look at you because his only thoughts are consumed with you, you, you.

he meant it when he said you’re never getting rid of him. he once thought that it’d never leave his wildest dreams, having you in all the ways he did last night. so what’s one more? — keeping you away from the outside world and being his alone to have, that is.

he’s feeling generous when he lets you finally leave the house for your uni classes. not without granting him multiple orgasms and bruises after he begged you to, of course.

you’re only here for a few hours. he’s had years of patience. although, that’s just a few hours where he’s not joined to you at the hip. he’s still watching you, from a distance. did you think he’d let you leave his sight? please, he’s not crazy.

nevermind. he’s batshit.

jake approaches you outside the library and you don’t ignore him or tell him you’re spoken for. you engage with him actually. with a smile. wow, sunghoon didn’t know you fucking hated him. are you seriously leaving him already? cheating??

you and jake go your seperate ways after a quick chat but it’s not good enough. sunghoon knows he has to rush home before you, but there’s one thing that will prioritise his attention over you yourself — and that’s the fear of losing you.

he trails behind jake, reaching into his pocket and tucking his knife into his hoodie sleeve.

the shrill sound of a phone ringing cuts through sunghoon’s bloodlust. jake stops in his tracks, answering his phone and almost doing a 180. sunghoon ducks behind a corner just before jake can spot him.

“hoonie?”

he thinks he’s dreaming when he sees you. you’re smiling at him so fondly, looking even more beautiful than the last time he saw you (he just missed you that much).

“hey, handsome.”

the words taste gross leaving your mouth, sickeningly sweet. it gets him to drop his guard though. sunghoon lets you close in on him, lips puckered like he’s waiting for a kiss until you suddenly grab his hoodie sleeve — fingers curled tight around the knife’s outline.

“don’t be fucking crazy.” you scold. “i saw you, hoon. leave him the fuck alone.” 

he huffs a laugh. “yeah? what’ll you do if i—”

you don’t even want to hear it, closing the gap to kiss him instead.

sunghoon just melts. you kiss him hard, bunching your fists in his hoodie and knocking his head against the wall from the force of your lips.

you kiss like you mean it, like you’re upset because he could’ve gotten himself in trouble. not because kissing him makes you sick. sunghoon doesn’t care which one it is, he just enjoys how your lips feel on his.

“that’s what you wanted, right? attention?” you seethe as you part with him.

he licks his lips, the taste of your saliva making his cock jump in his pants.

“you’re upset with me.” he can’t even hide his giddy grin over the thought of pushing your buttons. if he can get you to slap him again, he’ll be in euphoria for the rest of the day.

you know this, though. and you refuse to give him what he’s asking for, storming off without a word.

“leave your door unlocked for me tonight?” sunghoon calls after you.

“well you’ll come in even if i don’t, won’t you?” 

aw, you know him so well. how could anyone else be the one for him? 

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