pairing. haechan x reader
genre. friends to implied lovers, drunk confession
wc. 1.5k
summary. sober you would beat you up if she heard the bullshit spilling from your mouth; in which alcohol is both your best friend and your worst enemy
warnings. excessive amount of fluff, reader’s drunk as hell, Donghyuck’s love language is acts of service
an. a little warm up writing before I start writing longer fics again—I REALLY like the drunk confession microtrope,,, this whole thing was either written at 5AM on my work breaks or 5AM bc my sleep schedule is fucked up,,, pls enjoy!
You couldn’t give any less of a fuck that the bare soles of your feet were touching the cool pavement.
In fact, you couldn’t give any less of a fuck about anything.
Mind hazy, still tipsy from the shots your cousin had shoved in your hands, you briefly recall Donghyuck telling you that your mom had requested to bring you home—something about staying back to help clean up the venue and something about crashing out?—who the hell cares.
You let out a snort for no reason.
Maybe you should’ve brought extra shoes.
But again, you don’t care.
Donghyuck tails you, not too far behind. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, a smile playing lightly upon his lips as he watched you stumble under the lights of the venue. He knows he should be at your side in case you lose your balance, but it hadn’t even been five minutes since you declined his arm.
“You sure you don’t want to wear my shoes?”
You stop in your tracks and look back at him. It’s only now that you notice how sweaty the man was, bangs stuck to his forehead from all the dancing. This could also explain why your feet were killing you, “What shoes would you wear?”
He holds up the pair of heels dangling from his fingers, “Yours.”
You scoff and continue walking, “You in heels? Funny.”
And although your intentions were to offend Donghyuck, the smile on his face stays put, “Well, if it means you could walk comfortably, then I’d endure that pain and embarrassment.”
You roll your eyes, using all the strength in your entire body to not physically react to Donghyuck’s choice of words, “Please never say that ever again.”
“I’m serious,” he responds, “Also, I told you about bringing extra shoes.”
Donghyuck’s eyes trail further down the walkway, noting down that the parking lot was inching closer and closer. He recalls from this morning that the parking lot was sprinkled with pebbles. He frowns, “Can you please just put my shoes on?”
“I’m fine, Hyuck,” you groan, “I think that the car isn’t even far from here.”
“You’re right but…”
You hear him sigh out deeply before you hear his footsteps pick up in pace, the heels of his dress shoes clicking against the pavement. The alcohol pulls your eyes shut for just a moment, and when you finally gain control of them again, you find your best friend kneeling down in front of you, back turned towards you, “Get on.”
“Hyuck, I said I was fine,” you attempt to walk around him, but the man somehow predicts which way you’re going and scoots right in front of you.
“And I said to get on,” he orders gently, “Please.”
The ‘please’ causes you to giggle and you find yourself staring at the back of his head, dwindling on a few possible answers. His hair looks soft, like something you’d want to reach out and touch. “Don’t wanna… risk you dropping me.”
If you weren’t completely insane for your best friend, you would’ve hopped onto his back no problem. Hell, with the alcohol you felt a little bit bolder than usual, but nothing could mistake that little kick in your heartbeat telling you that if you decided to take his offer, you’d probably melt the second you make contact with him.
“I’ll throw a tantrum if you don’t,” Donghyuck threatens (was that even considered a threat?), “C’mon.”
“I hate you,” you mutter. But your actions completely contradict your words as you carefully secure yourself onto Donghyuck’s back, arms wrapping right around his neck. He follows in pursuit, hooking his arms right under your knees before he stands up. “You suck.”
“See, it isn’t so bad,” he laughs, “I’m strong. I won’t drop you.”
Your brain’s telling you to mock him back, but your words falter because you’re hit by Donghyuck’s perfume. Fuck—of course he smells good. You can’t remember a time that he didn’t.
It takes every ounce of your sobriety to not bury your face in Donghyuck’s hair.
“I actually had fun,” Donghyuck begins, referring to the wedding, “Honestly, I was scared to meet your other relatives. You always talk about them and they sound scary. But I actually had fun.”
“That’s good,” you reply quietly, almost dazed, “I’m glad you had fun.”
Your head flops onto Donghyuck’s shoulder, hair falling in front of your face and tickling his ear. His car finally comes into view and Donghyuck wastes no time to swing the door open.
“There you go, Princess,” Donghyuck jokes. He lowers you down gently, allowing you to plop into the passenger seat. Once he’s sure you’re seated, he turns around to face you, combing the mess of hair away from your face. “Comfy?”
“What if I said no?” You giggle, head falling back against the headrest.
Another sigh leaves Donghyuck’s lips and he pokes your side, “Then I’d do whatever it takes to make you comfy.”
“Quit talking like that,” you groan.
He hums, “Like what?”
The leather seat squeaks when you shift to face the other way, letting your eyes draw close.
Fatigue was definitely catching up.
I don’t know… you think, Just… like that.
And although your mind struggles to piece letters together to word how you were feeling, your heart knows exactly what you were thinking about.
Donghyuck shuts the door and his shadow crosses the light leaking through your eyelids. The driver’s door clicks open and then Donghyuck’s settling in the seat next to yours.
“Well…” You hear his foot hit the brake before he taps at the button to start the car, “Did you have fun?”
“Mmmm…” your lips form a pout, suddenly hit by the events of the wedding. You feel like you’re teetering between sobriety and intoxication, unsure whether or not you should be genuine, “Yo.”
Donghyuck raises a brow and tilts his head at you, “Yo?”
“Yes and no,” you clarify, almost as if he was supposed to know what you meant, “I had fun but didn’t.”
Again, Donghyuck’s eyebrow jerks, “Whatever you say.” He’s unsure whether he should wait for you to settle before he pulls out of the parking spot.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” You whine. One of your eyelids draws open, just enough to peek out at him.
He huffs, playing along, “…why?”
“I had fun because my cousin and her partner were cute and the dancing and the drinks, the games and everything…” You list, “But also, I didn’t have fun because all I could think about was the fact that I may never find the love they have.”
Your best friend lets your words sink in, trying to make sense of it while stringing together the right words to say—ones that wouldn’t give it away.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you will find that love you want.”
Then tears start leaking out of the corners of your eyes and Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate to reach over to wipe them away. He can’t help but laugh, watching as you’ve finally reached your crying phase, simply meaning that you’d pass out next, “Why are you crying? I’m telling you the truth, you know.”
You shrug sluggishly, “I don’t completely doubt you, Hyuckie.” Another tear slips out and you feel the pad of Donghyuck’s thumb swipe across your cheek.
“Then why are you crying?” he frowns.
“Well, what if…” you trail, “What if the love I want is with you?” You’re too far gone to even realize what you’ve just said, “I just feel like it’ll all be wrong if it wasn’t with you…”
The pounding in Donghyuck’s ears almost drown out your voice. You’re speaking so quietly that he needs to lean in to hear you.
Another tear—wipe.
“It’d be weird if it wasn’t your hand I was holding, if it wasn’t you I was waking up to, if the kisses I was getting weren't from your lips…”
Your eyes remain close and the more you speak, the more spaced out the words come out your mouth. Sober you would not believe what you were confessing to a sober Donghyuck.
“I want you to love me,” you finally confess, like saying it out loud validated all your feelings, “And everyday I feel like that’s too much to ask.”
“We should talk about this another time, Y/N.”
You groan at his response, almost as if you weren’t satisfied with his answer. But before he could get another word out, he watches as your head flops onto your own shoulder.
“Of course,” Donghyuck chuckles to himself, shaking his head. He reaches over and pulls the lever to recline your chair, letting your head fall back comfortably, “There you go… comfy…”
Donghyuck sits back in his seat and admires you for a moment, a delicate frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He wishes you weren’t drunk and saying these words, afraid that when the alcohol wasn’t running through your body, that none of them would even mean anything to you.
Because if the love you wanted was with him, he’d do anything—everything—to give it to you.
♡ entry .. so who else is upset insomnia isn’t on holo? RAAHHH i stream that song from my mp3 files like it’s an actual song, outside of that i’m actually so excited for holo i’m gonna be just as annoying about holo like i was for molo. please excuse any errors and i hope you all enjoy.
more of nct dream
“your voice is soothing, it’s actually helping me relax.” haechan mumbled into the speaker of his phone, “that good baby just focus on my voice and try not to think so much, okay?” he nodded as if you could see him but you took his silence as an answer and continued talking, “the house feels so empty these days, i’m so used to cleaning up after two people that when i make a mess i have no one to blame for it.” he chuckled softly, “mmm is that right?”
“mhm, so used to washing two plates, two forks, basically two of everything so it sucks just having only my dishes to clean.” you sigh, “but then you’ll complain when i come home and make a mess” “i miss your messes, i think..? don’t quote me on that.” you let out a soft giggle.
“i miss you,” he said causing you to smile “i miss you more, only a few more weeks i believe we can do this!” you attempt to sound enthusiastic but you both know this is killing both of you. “so let’s say i leave the tour early and come be with you? i genuinely can’t sleep without you hence is why i’m having trouble sleeping” and you laugh.
“the doctors said it was stress not ‘being away from your girlfriend’, you’re funny,” “but being away from you is stressful, watch when i come home all my problems will subside.” he mumbled.
“aren’t you supposed to be trying to sleep, i'm the one who should be talking…” he hummed at your words before closing his eyes letting your voice fill his ears, your voice wasn’t loud but it was necessarily a whisper either. he would fall asleep then jump awake at your voice, “then i ended up on the wrong exit and had to ride to the next exit only to almost run out of gas, i’m so used to you filling my car up in the mornings but now i have to do it.” you continued speaking softly.
you knew he was asleep but you also knew he could somewhat hear you and regardless of him not responding to you with his words, breathing into his speaker softly was enough for you.
hii anon! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) thank you so much for sending in a request — you're actually the very first one, and it made my heart do a little happy dance when I saw it in my inbox! (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) sending love your way, and may both sides of your pillow be perfectly cold today. I hope you have an amazing day, and that I captured the emotion you were hoping for! ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა
things that boyfriend!haechan does that you find weirdly hot . . .
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who ties your shoes for you. he’s very observant when it comes to you and will pause anywhere to tie your shoes. he’ll squat or get down on one knee and tie two little bunny ears and pat your shoe when he’s done.
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who zips up your jacket. you always complain in cold weather that it’s too cold and if he sees you with a zip up jacket and it’s open, he’ll tsk and softly scold you. “well i wonder why it’s cold hm?” then zips up your jacket and fixes your hair.
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who holds your hand before crossing the street. he knows your capable and has common sense to look both ways before crossing but as your boyfriend it’s his job to protect you. it’s also just out of instinct. his hand blindly reaches for yours and won’t let get til you both make it across the street.
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who hands you your water bottle randomly throughout the day and makes you drink it. your water bottle sometimes is always where you’re not at. it’ll be in the living room while you’re in your room at your desk for hours. and he takes the initiative to fill it up if it’s empty or half full. “here, drink please.” and when you do he always says “thank you pretty”. he wants you to stay hydrated !
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who always moves you by your waist or belt loops. he always finds a reason to be close to you or touch you somehow. if you’re in the store together he’ll come up behind you and loop his finger through your belt loop and lightly pull so he can see what you’re looking at or holding in your hands. “ooo yeah i like that flavor, can we get it?” “are you gonna finish it, last time you didn’t hyuck.” or if you’re in front of a drawer and there’s something in there that he needs, both his hands find its place on your waist. “excuse me baby, i need a spoon.”
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who opens your drink for you. again, he’s very observant when it comes to you. if he sees you struggling opening a soda, he comes to the rescue. “thank you hyuckie.” or he’ll grab a drink for you and always opens it before giving it to you. you also love to watch when he opens a can with one hand.
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who lifts your chin to make you look at him. you get shy and all cute (to him) about eye contact, especially with him. when he stares at you it’s with such intensity or emotion and it also has to do with it just being him. he’ll use a finger to lift your chin and sometimes he even uses his thumb too, his thumb softly caressing your chin. he just makes you so nervous and all jelly ! he’ll notice your eyes widen at his touch and frantically looking around anywhere but his face (yet you fail). he smirks, “cute.”
BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who always opens the car door for you. not matter the occasion. romance is not dead! he will never forgive you if you open your door. and you have before (mans was upset). he wants to treat you like the princess you are! and you love him for it because it makes you feel special and you truly appreciate the kind gesture. if you make it to your door before him, you’ll patiently wait for him. “good girl.” and lightly smacks your butt as you get in.
this was inspired by a tweet i saw on my tl and immediately thought of haechan. i never wrote a birthday drabble for him so this can be a very late yet needed one <3
dating mark comes with an unspoken loyalty towards you. mark would root for you no matter, even if you aren’t aware that he is. he’d do everything in his capacity to make sure that life goes your way, because mark wants to see you thrive and be happy. whether it be opportunities or any other events in your life, mark would attempt to help you out in whatever way he can. doing research on work fields that you’re interested in during his free time and coincidentally bringing up how there is a job near your place that you could apply for. or, you could complain to mark on the phone how it had started being burdensome to get up in the mornings and prepare your stuff, and wake up the next day to a small note and a lunch box on your kitchen counter that mark had placed there for you, encouraging words written on them. if no one is on your side, you know that at least mark is.
attempting a new lifestyle (just for you).
mark is someone who has a set routine in life, a schedule that he follows daily. he’s a person who knows what he does and doesn’t like, but with you, he doesn’t think a little change can hurt. mark would rarely have the time to go out and enjoy the outside world. you on the other hand, love to explore, which is how mark finds himself getting dragged by the hand as you show him your favourite places. mark, who is scared of heights, but would let you lead him to the top of a building because you like the view up there. he knows he doesn’t enjoy the taste of ketchup, yet he’d keep quiet and let you feed him the french fries drizzled in it. mark who’s world revolves around his work and work ethic doesn’t think he’d mind making space for your world in his own.
nonchalant jealousy.
anyone can point out when mark is jealous. it would start with prolonged stares towards you, a hidden confusion in his eyes as he flashes you a small smile from across the room. walking over towards you before interrupting whatever conversation you were having with the person across you. inching closely towards you, before draping an arm around you shoulder, introducing himself towards the stranger. tugging you away with an excuse along the words of ‘having to show you something’. a nervous laughter as he’d ask you “is that your friend? i’ve never seen him.” by now it’s hard for you to hold back your laughter and you’d have to assure mark that nothing was going on. you can hear the sigh of relief under his breath before another more playful chuckle leaves him. yes, mark was jealous, he’d never admit it though.
how he asked you out.
mark most likely wouldn’t even realise at first that he is crushing on you, only when one of his friends points out how he is not-so-subtly glancing at you every minute with the suggestion that perhaps he might have a thing for you, would it click in his head that “damn, i do have a crush on you”. mark would try to impress you a lot and flatter you without directly telling you that he likes you. by doing so, he’d observe your reactions and slowly build up the courage to ask you out on a date. he’d take you out to the fanciest restaurant he could find and treat you with more gifts afterwards, whatever your eyes land on, he’d immediately ask if you wanted it. the date would end with him driving you back home, asking you if you enjoyed the date. he’d confess right then and there that he’d love to go on a second date if you’d like it too. fortunately for him, you’re crushing on him just as much as he is on you!
kisses.
kissing mark feels like having your breath taken away from you as his kisses always have an underlying passion to it. he’d cave in softly at first, testing the waters and getting the both of you comfortable. his hand would rest under your chin as he’d tug you to himself. the kiss grows more passionate after a while, proximity closing between you two. you’d think the room was burning with the warmth that travels through your body as mark deepens the kiss, his arms around your body by now pressing you against him. his kisses taste like sweet love and desperate lust. you’d think its because mark hasn’t seen you for a while, but instead its because he just can’t help himself when it comes to you. mark’s love for you shows through the heated kiss shared between you two that feels like it lasts the whole night, and quite frankly, neither of would want the intimate moment to end anytime soon.
pairing : mark x fem!reader. genre : fluff, est relationship warnings : kissing synopsis : your bf loves singing to u wc : 0.9k a/n : pls listen to 200 by mark while reading this its CRUCIAL!!! if u enjoyed like n reblogs are always appreciated
you were leaned up against the foot of the couch on the floor, sitting on the living room carpet. on your lap, you had your laptop, typing away your final submission for your digital portfolio. next to you, mark sat, scribbling something in his notebook. you were too caught up in your own work to even notice him. but all he was doing was staring at you.
he stared at every feature of yours, the way your lips curved to fit perfectly on your face. or the way the light of the candle hit your face, highlighting some of his favorite features, creating a golden shadow. the light in your shared apartment was romantic, the two of you had the main lights off and just relied on the lamp along with the candle that was lit on the coffee table.
you sighed softly, leaning back against the couch to rest your back a little. you turned to mark who was just looking right at you. “what?” you smiled, making him smile as well. his cheeks turned up and he shook his head, writing in his notebook again. “what are you writing?” you scooted closer to him, reaching over to push some of his hair out of his face.
usually, mark had his hair styled but right now it was a little messy since he was home all day. it suited him well, looked so cute on him. “just a song” he hummed in response, reaching over to pick up his guitar and place it on his lap. he played some notes, trying to feel out the vibe of the song, then started playing the main part. you watched as his fingers moved along the guitar, smiling as he played.
he stopped playing and looked to you, as if trying to get approval. you nodded and smiled, making him smile. “sing it for me” you mumbled, your portfolio being long forgotten now. “it’s only a couple lines babe” he said, looking down at the notebook. “i don’t care baby, your voice is pretty i wanna hear it” you said, looking at him. he loved when you looked at him like that, like you held all the love in the world for him and only him.
mark sighed, smiling softly. he began playing that same part again and on the 2nd beat he started singing. mark had a way of singing, laid back and a little bit raspy. his voice was sweet to you, smooth as well. almost like maple syrup in a weird, ironic way. you rested your arm and head on the couch, listening to him sing to you.
some of the lyrics you couldn’t understand, but there was one that stuck out to you. “you’re 106 and i’m 94” he sang, holding out that last note. he continued strumming even after the lyrics were done and stopped. he looked to you, smiling. “did you like it?” he reached over, playing with some stray locks that sat on your shoulder, twirling your hair around in his fingers. “it was so good babe” you said, sitting up straighter now.
he smiled at you, kissing your forehead. he leaned back now, going back to scribbling some lyrics down. you stared at him and smiled, tilting your head softly. “what did that lyric mean, you’re 106 i’m 94?” you hummed, now head propped up by your arm that was once again resting on the couch cushion. mark looked to you, his cheeks a little rosy, he did that when he was shy. “god babe, it's embarrassing,” he confessed, looking down at his guitar. you giggled softly and shook your head. “cmon baby just say it” you smiled at his antics.
he sighed out, changing his position to mimic your own, his own elbow propped up on the cushion and his hand holding his head. “it’s like.. you’re 106 and i’m 94.. so we both make 200” his free hand reached over to your own, holding it. you smiled at the feeling of his fingers against your own but furrowed your brows as well. “why aren’t we both 100?” you said, making him smile a bit bigger.
“because to me, you’re more than just 100. and because of that a part of me, the 6, is with you.” he confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed now. he sighed at your expression and shook his head, his head no longer propped by his hand and sitting up straighter. “it’s corny i know” but you only smiled. you smiled because that was the sweetest thing he had ever told you, and to think that it was in a song? that was even sweeter.
“thank you” you mumbled, now it was marks turn to furrow his brows.
“for what babe?” he asked, head tilted slightly. you fixed your position, taking your now free hand and hold him by the back of his neck, looking in his eyes. “for saying that, it’s so sweet baby” and he smiled, feeling himself melting to your touch. his thumb rubbed against your hand, your hands still intertwined. “i love you” you said, still looking his eyes.
mark smiled and nodded, “i love you more” he mumbled back, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. he let go of your hand to hold your waist, lips moving against yours. you pulled back, your hand on his chest now. he smiled down at you, moving some hairs away out of your face. “should we get some sleep?” he mumbled, you nodding in response. he smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up from the living room floor, holding your hand to help you up. the two of your picked up your things, setting it on the couch.
mark placed the lid over the candle and turned to you, gesturing for you to lead the way to your shared bedroom. you smiled, hand still holding his as you walked to your bedroom, cheeks flushed and hearts full.
boyfriend!mark x reader, jealous reader (I love jealousy), inspired by THIS content
Fluff
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Mark is having his ARENA photoshoot in Australia but maybe you wished those staff would stop giggling at everything he says...
The sun had barely risen, casting a soft golden light over the tennis court tucked in a quiet part of Sydney. The morning air was crisp, still carrying that cool breeze unique to coastal mornings. Mark had been up early for this shoot, something about a grand opening event and tennis-themed concept shots before the finals later that week. You sat quietly off to the side, on a bench just beyond the court, sipping the coffee he’d insisted on getting for you even though he was the one with the packed schedule. A hoodie draped loosely over your shoulders, and you kept your eyes trained on him—shy, a little distant, like you weren’t quite sure how to fit into the rhythm of the staff around him.
He was dressed in all white: a fitted polo, athletic shorts, and a headband pushing his soft hair back. Every move he made looked like it came straight out of a magazine—like he belonged here, under this light. And you loved watching him like this. Focused. Playful. Effortless.
But then… you noticed it.
The way the staff—especially the few women standing near the photographer—kept giggling at every little thing he said. Someone handed him a bottle of water and laughed a little too loudly at a joke you didn’t even hear. Another one kept adjusting his hair between takes, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. Their eyes trailed after him, lit up with something you recognized way too easily. You weren’t mad;not exactly. Mark hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just being his usual sweet, polite self, smiling and joking around. But the way they reacted to every word, every movement, every smile; it sparked something low and uncomfortable in your chest. You tugged your sleeves over your hands and looked down at your cup, pretending not to care. But your eyes found him again when he turned, racket resting casually on his shoulder. He caught your gaze. His smile changed.
Softer. Smaller. Just for you.
He tilted his head slightly, mouthing, “You good?” You gave him a little nod, cheeks warm. But he saw right through it. A moment later, he jogged over to the edge of the court during a short break. His face was flushed from running around, hair slightly messy. “Hey,” he said softly, crouching in front of you with that boyish grin, voice low so the staff couldn’t hear. “You okay? You’ve been quiet.” You looked at him for a beat, hesitating. “Yeah. Just… watching.”
He smiled. That smile. It was all soft edges and affection, like he already knew what you weren’t saying. His lips quirked up just enough to drive you insane, eyes warm and unreadable. You furrowed your brows. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Mark chuckled under his breath, not answering right away. Instead, he leaned in just a little, like he was about to let you in on some secret. “Nothing,” he said casually, but there was a teasing glint in his eye. You narrowed your eyes at him, clearly not buying it, but before you could press further, he tilted his head slightly and said, so offhand it shouldn’t have made your heart stutter, “You’re really pretty, you know that?”
Your lips parted, mind blanking for a half-second,but then:
"Mark, can we get you back on court for the next set?” a staff member called out. Your head snapped in their direction, jaw tightening slightly. You didn’t even mean to,but a low, very real growl slipped out of you before you could stop it. You rolled your eyes “Go shoot.” He was still smiling as he backed away, eyes never leaving you. “I’m coming right back to you after this,” he said with a wink, voice low enough just for you. “Don’t go anywhere, pretty.” And just like that, he jogged off.
They’d changed locations not long after—now setting up on a soft, open stretch of grass under the late morning sun. The air was warmer, and the vibe more relaxed, but your mood… not so much. You stood a little off to the side again, watching as Mark followed the staff’s directions without complaint, always polite, always sweet. But something about the way one of the stylists pinned paper around his hair, so carefully, like he was some fragile doll just… irked you. He stood up walking to a certain spot to lay on the grass. The back of his head was showing and so were all the protective paper clips....and boom. Cue the giggles.
A chorus of high-pitched laughter bubbled up from the group of stylists and assistants standing nearby, all of them acting like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. You blinked. Furrowed your brow. Your lips tugged down before you could stop them, and a quiet mutter slipped out under your breath, too soft for anyone else to really hear.
“…It’s not even that funny.”
You looked away quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to physically keep the feeling from slipping out. It wasn’t like you were insecure, you knew Mark loved you. You knew how he treated you when no one was watching. But this… this part sucked.
Unbeknownst to you, Mark had looked up just in time to see it.
The tiny shift in your expression. The way your eyes darted away. The way your lips moved, even if he couldn’t quite hear what you said from where he sat.
He saw all of it. And he knew that face.
You were annoyed. Jealous. Trying to act like you weren’t. He tilted his head a little, biting back a smirk. His eyes lingered on you for a few seconds longer, heart softening even as he felt a small wave of guilt. He hadn’t meant for you to feel that way, not even close.
The shoot finally wrapped up, and the staff began packing up the lights, reflectors, and gear. Mark peeled off his mic pack, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly a little tired—but his eyes instantly scanned the area for you. You were exactly where you’d always been; off to the side, arms crossed now, a little smirk on your face like you were totally not upset, but also absolutely upset. Mark smiled, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead as he made his way over.
“Hey,” he said softly, that post-shoot glow making him look unfairly good. “Wanna take some pictures together?” You blinked, eyebrows arching in mock delight. “Oh? Why don’t you ask one of your many fans from the staff?” you said sweetly, a dramatic hand gesture and all.
He froze for a second, then snorted.
Oh, he definitely got it now.
“You’re really doing this right now?” he asked, chuckling, eyes shining with amusement. You shrugged, exaggerating your tone. “I mean, you clearly had such a great time. They’re obsessed with you! The hair pinning? The water bottle moment? The lawn gigglefest? Should I be worried? Or maybe I should giggle too—‘Oh my gosh, Mark! That was sooo funny!’” He laughed too hard at your dramatic impression, but his eyes were warm as ever, not a hint of annoyance, only affection. Without another word, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it to his manager nearby. “Hyung, can you take a few photos of us?” “Huh? Now?” the manager blinked, confused. Mark just nodded, then reached down and gently grabbed your hand before you could protest, tugging you toward a patch of open grass just a bit farther from the crew.
“Mark—what are you doing—” “You’re cute when you’re whiny,” he said under his breath, smiling like it was a secret. You scoffed, but you were already flustered. “I’m not whiny.”
“Yes, you are. And pretty. And mine.” He pulled you to a stop in a quiet spot, the sun hitting just right. “Now hush and stand here.”
The photos started: candid, playful, messy.
You were pouting in the first, lips pushed out in full drama mode while he was looking down at you with the most adoring smile. In another, you were in the middle of fake-ranting, gesturing with your hands while he just held your waist and leaned into you, like nothing else mattered. The last one was soft; he had one arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other hand cupping your cheek gently as he whispered something that made your face crumble into a shy smile even though you tried to stay mad. When it was over, you crossed your arms, trying to keep up the act, but Mark just leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.
“You can be jealous all you want,” he whispered, “but at the end of the day… they didn’t get this.”
His thumb brushed over your cheek.
“…Didn’t get what?” you asked softly, suddenly breathless. “This version of me,” he smiled. “The one who only acts like this for you.”
And just like that, your walls crumbled. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a lot like “shut up”, but your arms found their way around his waist anyway. Mark still hadn’t let go of your waist, his phone now tucked back in his pocket as the manager wandered off with a knowing smile. The two of you stood in your little bubble, sunlight filtering through the trees, warm and golden.
But you weren’t done yet. Not even close.
You leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, arms still looped around his waist, and let out the most dramatic sigh known to man. “I just hate it,” you said, your voice full of righteous complaint. Mark blinked, half-smiling already. “Hate what, baby?”
You huffed, pout full force. “The way they look at you! Like—like you’re a walking movie or something. I know you’re hot, okay, I know. But I can’t stand it when other girls perceive you.” Mark laughed under his breath, soft and fond as he leaned in and kissed your pout once. You ignored him and kept going. “Like that one stylist? She was hovering around you like a fly! And you smiled at her! You smiled, Mark.”
Another kiss. Right on your pout again. You scrunched your nose. “Don’t kiss me when I’m mad.” “I’m not kissing you because you’re mad,” he said with that teasing glint. “I’m kissing you because you’re ridiculously cute when you’re mad.” You glared. “No I’m not. I’m unapproachable and terrifying.” Mark grinned and kissed your pout again—slower this time. You faltered slightly. “…Okay that one doesn’t count.” He tilted his head, still way too smug. “How many kisses does it take to make you forget about everyone else?” “I don’t know,” you mumbled, finally resting your head against his chest, voice muffled, “but keep going and we’ll find out.” Mark chuckled, pulling you closer, the sun warm on your back and the sound of the staff long forgotten.
“ You really think I don’t see anyone but you?” You didn’t answer right away. But you didn’t pull away either. And he didn’t stop kissing your pout.
Not until you finally stopped whining and started smiling.
summary: it was only a matter of time until this conversation came up. Jaehyun only wishes he were better at putting his feelings into words before the conversation went down
word count: 4.2k
warnings: profanity, angst, fuckboy behavior, slut shaming I think, hurt, not too much comfort, anxiety attack mention
a/n: you all asked and I answered, this was very unintentionally inspired by Slim Pickins by miss Sabrina Carpenter, your feedback is very much appreciated! Not to worry, there will be a part 2 because Jae and Sweets are my babies <33
This fic is a part of my fratboy!jaehyun universe but can be read as a stand alone fic!
Timeline wise this happens before women in male fields and before Sweets and Jae are an official couple. I kind of cleared up the timeline in more detail, here!
The more time you spent around Jung Jaehyun, the more you grew to like him. How could you not? He was kind, he was funny, handsome, he made you feel like the most special girl in the room! In a quiet library you could always look up from your notes to find his eyes on you. During a crowded party you were always at his side and he made sure you were included in whatever was going on around the both of you.
After four months of being together, you were sure that you were falling in love with Jung Jaehyun. Every time he looked at you with those sweet dimples in his cheeks, every time you woke up in his arms, every time he kissed you, every time the both of you get tangled in the sheets in the throes of passion. Hell, you’d spent nearly your whole summer attached to your phone talking with him when you could have easily been spending time with your family. You want to tell him that you’re falling in love with him.
You want to tell him so badly… but what was holding you back? Well, for one, you’re not his girlfriend. He’s not your boyfriend and he’s made that quite clear. He doesn’t introduce you as anything other than a “very close friend” when he does feel like giving you a title and not just saying your name. He doesn’t like when you call your situation what it is— a situationship. He says that what the two of you have is a lot deeper than that, not a relationship but more than a situationship. He cares for you and “assholes in situationships don’t give a shit about how they make those girls feel.” He cares about your feelings! The whole situationship thing had been a point of contention between the two of you, so you didn’t address it, at least not with him. With Ari and Kira you could vent to your heart's content, but after four months you knew which lines not to cross.
With that being said, you weren't even sure where the huge downward spiral had exactly begun. Had it just been building and building until it all boiled over? Your day hadn’t been all that different than usual, nothing out of the ordinary. You woke up, you went to your classes, you came to the frat house, and you hung out with Jaehyun. Then, you’d go back to your dorm and you and Kira and Ari would continue watching your drama. It was an extremely normal day.
You were scrolling on your phone when you got a text from one of your friends from high school, giggling to yourself as you read her message. He pokes your side as if to ask what made you laugh. Four months of knowing him and you should know by now that he’s got a bit of FOMO, especially around you. You think it’s part of the reason why he makes sure you’re always included and introduced to everyone he knows so you don’t get the same feeling. He can be so considerate.
You clear your throat as you read the message out for him to hear, “one of my friends is coming out to visit next week and is so excited to meet my boyfriend. Do you think you’ll be free next weekend?”
You’re too busy typing back a response so you can’t see how Jaehyun’s face has morphed from one of curiosity to one of uneasiness. He clears his throat, “uh, is that what you tell people? That I’m your boyfriend.”
Jaehyun wasn’t sure how to broach this topic, how to voice the anxiety that had been bubbling in his veins for weeks now. How could he tell you, this amazing, kindhearted, absolute sweetheart that he was having doubts? Not doubts about you, no, never you. Rather, doubts about himself. The longer you two were together, the more the nerves just ate him alive. He couldn’t be with you alone without feeling a knot in his throat, always on edge that some day it was all going to blow up right in his face.
Jaehyun would be the first to admit that had his more dim moments, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that he wasn’t being the best partner by acting like a boyfriend and refusing to give you the matching title. If anyone was more deserving of being his girlfriend— well there wasn’t anyone beside you! He knew you were it for him, but damn, a guy can freak out, alright!
He’d just spent two years of his life living just about every college guy’s fucking fantasy! He could pull any girl he wanted because they were practically lining up at his door just to catch a glimpse of him. Every week was another girl who didn’t care to be in a relationship simple because they wanted to be with him. He didn’t have to worry about breaking hearts, having titles, meeting friends, planning dates. No, the only worries on his mind were when the condoms ran out and he waited for the nurses at the clinic to call and tell him he was clean.
But you weren’t like that, you were the opposite and he really fucking loved liked it. He tried to be the best version of himself for you. He tried so fucking hard for you, but it was difficult. Not in the “oh fuck, it’s been two weeks since I got my dick wet” kind of way, but rather in the “I need to communicate how I’m feeling so my actions don’t hurt you but it’s hard” kind of way. But old habits and anxieties snuck in. It had been so long since he had been committed to anyone. It had been so long since he had actually been with someone he wanted to be committed to. Is that something he knew how to do? Had he ruined himself with all his pointless sleeping around? Did he want to be a boyfriend? Fuck, he felt like he was going to be sick.
You giggle softly, clearly not understanding that this is a point of discomfort for Jaehyun, “well, you basically are. I mean, we post each other all the time, we kiss, we have sex, we go on dates. It’s just easier to let people think that you’re my boyfriend than to explain that we’re in an exclusive not-relationship.” You knew it was a topic that made him uncomfortable, but honestly you didn’t really see the big deal. You didn’t want to be like the girls you saw on TikTok who complained about their situationships. You and Jaehyun were different! He was different! He was a good guy. You loved him and you weren’t naive enough to fall in love with someone who didn’t care about you.
“Right,” Jaehyun nods to himself, his voice trailing off. The knot in his throat was getting harder and harder to keep down. Why couldn’t he just say what he wanted to say?! Why was his mouth not working with his brain right now?!
You turn to look at him, your thumbs frozen over the screen of your phone, “why did you say it like that? Is there a problem?”
“I just don’t know how comfortable I am with you letting people think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.” Fuck, that didn’t come out right. Okay, Jae fix this, take a breath and say what you actually mean—
“I let people think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend? Jae, anyone who doesn't know us would think that. What’s the issue with that?” Too late.
“We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. That’s the issue.” There’s no going back now.
You sit up now, locking your phone and setting it aside, “but we will be someday.” He stays silent, he’s not looking at you. You feel your panic rising, “Jaehyun, tell me we will be someday.”
“I can’t—” Jaehyun starts, “I can’t tell you that.” God, he could hear the tension just flood the room. He felt his heart drop to his stomach. This wasn’t going to be good. He knew that, anybody with eyes and ears would be able to tell.
Your mouth dries out, heart pounding so loud it’s the only sound you can hear. “Well, why not?”
He’s pacing now, his hand running through his hair nervously, forcing himself to get his storm of anxiety into actual words, “I can’t— I haven’t been a boyfriend in a long time, Sweetheart.”
“Because of Hana, I know,” you nod, “but Jaehyun, it’s been four months. You told me you really like me.”
“And I do, but I can’t promise that this, us will ever become more than what it is.” No, that’s not right. Fuck! Why is his stupid ass mouth just spouting lies?! Is this some kind of protection mechanism that all reformed fuckboys just activate in moments of high stress? He doesn’t want it, but he just can’t stop it.
You stand now, in the opposite corner of the room from Jaehyun, your eyes hard, “Well, what is so bad about being my boyfriend?!”
“I haven't been a boyfriend in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever want to be a boyfriend again!”
You feel your throat tighten, “you don’t know if you want to be a boyfriend or be my boyfriend?” Your heart is pounding in your chest, face burning as you attempt to keep yourself calm, try to stop yourself from just breaking down into an emotional wreck.
“Sweetheart, what’s the difference? I’m trying to be honest and communicate with you here.”
“The difference is that on one hand you miss fucking around and getting your dick wet with random women and on the other hand you’ve just wasted four months of my life!” There goes your defense mechanism. It’s not your best choice of words and you know it, but in a moment of hurt you acted out in anger. You couldn’t deny that Jaehyun’s reputation had always been something that made you insecure. He could have any girl, he has had any girl he wanted, yet he chose you. You who didn’t sleep with him the first time he asked you to. You who made him work for it. You who didn’t even know who he was when you first saw him. You who always wondered what was so special about you for him to be exclusive with. What was so special about you?
“A waste?” He parrots, “that’s messed up, Sweetheart.”
“Stop calling me that!” You exclaim passionately, throwing your hands up, “what makes you think it’s okay for you to lead me on when you don’t even know if it’s ever going to progress to anything else?” How had he ruined one of the words that you used to love hearing from his mouth? It sounded condescending and disdainful coming from his lips now. The word that had once made you feel happy and warm, now made you feel grimy— like he was saying Sweetheart just to keep you calm, not because he meant it.
“I’m not leading you on,” Jaehyun replies far too calmly for the words that have just left his lips.
It feels patronizing. It feels like he’s trying to gaslight and manipulate you into thinking in the same fucked up way that he thinks. How could spending four months of exclusive hang outs without the promise of becoming anything more than a “very close friend” not be leading you on? What kind of girl would willingly choose to stay in that situation if she didn’t have hope for her guy? And you had hope, you had mountains of hope for Jaehyun. You’d seen the changes, felt them, heard about them. You were doing good, but this wasn’t the Jaehyun you were getting to know. You didn't know who you were talking to right now.
“Yes, you have! Who tells a girl they really like them? Who tells a girl that she’s the only girl for them? Who tells a girl that she brings out a side of them that they missed? You told me you were serious about me!” You scream weakly, your voice cracking as tears begin to prick at the back of your eyes. It’s getting harder to breathe now, even as you take deep breaths you know it isn’t nearly enough air to calm yourself down. The room feels like it’s getting both smaller and hotter the longer this conversation goes on.
Jaehyun shakes his head, leaning back to stare at the plain white ceiling of his room before responding with a tired sigh, “and then I started to think about us when you called me your boyfriend and now I’m not sure.”
“What the hell is so horrible about the idea of me being your girlfriend? What is so bad about me?” You feel helpless as the question leaves your lips. Whatever he says you know you’re not going to like, but you need to know. Even if it breaks you.
“I just… I haven’t been in a committed relationship for such a long time. I didn’t have time to adjust from being free to being tied down to someone,” he explains with another sigh, this time of frustration.
And you snap, because what the hell is so frustrating about being with you? You who let this bitch ass fratboy lead you on for four months? You who taught this adult man how to wash his fucking bed sheets. You who taught him how to use separate shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. You who taught this college student how to study. Fuck him. Seriously, fuck him. What does he even mean being fucking free?! As if you stopped him from doing fucking anything besides sticking his dick in anything warm with a pulse. “Being free? In what ways do I hinder you from doing anything you didn’t do before you met me?” You ask with your arms now crossed across your chest.
“You mean besides the obvious?” He asks with a quirk of his brow. Fuck, wrong move! Damn, his fratboy fuckboy instincts. This is getting ugly and messy and horrible fast. Much faster than he wanted. Fuck!
It’s a knife to your chest. The obvious. The obvious fact that no one seems to let you forget. The fact that he’s not sleeping around anymore. You’re so glad he can read your mind. You’re so glad you spent four months of your life giving this man every opportunity to read your quirks and pick up on what you were thinking. You used to love how in sync you both were, but now? Now you fucking hate it. You clear your throat, forcing the knot in your throat to stay down, if he wants to be an asshole then so will you. “I didn’t realize there was anyone on campus left for you to sleep around with.” You state coldly, your glare icy. Defense mode activated. All the way fucking activated. Attack, attack, attack so he can’t see your hurt. You can’t let him see how your hurt. Fight fire with fire and just deal with the burnt mess later.
“Just you, Sweetheart,” Jaehyun spits back smugly, “but wait… I got you didn’t I? I’ll admit it took a while but here you are, you still decided to stick around. I wonder now… what the fuck makes you think you’re so special if according to you, you’re just one out of the hundreds of girls on campus?”
The air is sucked out of the room. The tension is so thick that even a knife or a sword wouldn’t be able to cut through it. The room is silent, eerily so. To a random bystander walking by, they might just think this room was empty. Jaehyun didn’t want to say that! Fuck, no! He has never, ever thought of you as just some body to warm his bed. Why the fuck would he say that?! He hated the way that his past made you insecure, though. He hated the way you talked about his past and the way you looked down on him for doing something that didn’t hurt anyone. But you had gone low so he went lower. Now, he feels like he’s actually about to throw up because in the silence of his room he can hear how your breath catches and hear how your heart breaks.
He’s never seen anyone look so hurt, so fucking destroyed by anything in his life. He feels like a piece of shit. Then there go your tears, making the eyes he loves water and shine like the stars in the sky. Your voice is thick with your tears and with your pain as you force out weak, “Fuck you, Jaehyun.”
He wishes he could take it all back. He wants to cross the room right now and just hold you against his chest, hold you and kiss you until the only thing you remember about him is how much he cares about you, how strongly he feels for you. He wishes he could time travel. He wishes he had just bitten back his anxiety and said, ‘Yeah, I’d love to meet your friend! Have her come to the party!’ He wishes that instead of acting out of hurt and anxiety that maybe he had just taken the time to think— fucking think about how he was feeling and said something!
When had you ever made him feel like he couldn’t talk to you?! Never! That was just one of the millions of things he loved liked about you! Fuck, he was so fucking stupid! But he can’t do any of that. It’s like his body is refusing to work with his brain. It’s like he’s watching this whole mess go down from outside his body. He’s watching this shell of himself act in a way he should never ever treat you. He doesn’t even register his mouth moving, but he hears himself say, “Sweetheart, you already have.”
You don’t stop the tears then, you don’t say anything else as you gather your things and try to stop yourself from sobbing out loud. You can’t see anything, just a mess of colors through your tears as you grab your backpack and your phone. You can’t breathe either, it’s like your body is in fight or flight mode. You’ve given all the fight you have left to give and now you need to get the fuck away from here.
Jaehyun stands as still as a statue, watching how your shaky hands gather everything you brought with you like you’ll die if you don’t get out of here in a minute. He’s screaming at himself to move, to apologize, to say something— anything! He can’t fucking lose you! But he doesn’t and he hates himself for it. The slam of his bedroom door is what seems to snap him out of it. He immediately clutches at his chest, running a hand through his hair as tears of despair fill his eyes. He can’t breathe. “What the fuck did I just do?” He whispers to himself.
You’re running down the hall, hiccuping as you try to breathe and just get as far away from this hell hole as you can. The house is quiet, as quiet as you’ve ever heard it and you know the guys are home. They heard everything and that fills you with a whole different kind of pain. A pain of anxiety and nerves, knowing that they were all just witnessed to your heart not just being broken but stomped on, that they heard how you were completely eviscerated and treated like some cheap piece of ass, and how they also heard you speak to one of their own in a way that you had ever talked to anybody before.
You stumble down the last steps, watching helplessly as your phone and backpack clutter to the floor as your knees hit the floor with a dull thud. Just what you needed, perfect. You’re a mess now, on the brink of an anxiety attack as you gather your pens and pencils and back while your mind is on the brink of just shutting down completely. You haven’t felt this helpless in a long time, since you tried to do some hairstyle on yourself as a girl and just couldn’t get it right. But it hurts worse, it hurts so much fucking worse because you know that this is something that is going to stick with you for a long time.
You want to curl up on the dirty, sticky floor, sob and lay here until Mother Nature does her thing and this is just a memory long forgotten, but you refuse to stay stagnant. Get out, get out, get out.
You cough, hating the way that your own tears are starting to choke you. Why can’t you fucking breathe?! Why isn’t the zipper closing? Why do you have so many god damn pens? Why is your phone so far away? Just— why?
And then there’s another pair of hands. Then two pairs. Then three. One pair of hands gathers the pens, the other zips your bag closed, the other helps you to your feet. And then all hands embrace you. A warm embrace that is just what you need to break down completely. Your tears the soft cotton of Johnny’s favorite t-shirt, Taeyong’s soft and gentle hands use a tissue to soak up your tears, and Haechan hugs your back tightly, knowing that you need the pressure to ground you. You want to be far, far away from this frat house right now, but you don’t want them to leave you alone.
You can’t tell who’s speaking over your sobs or the racing of your heart in your own ears, but you hear, “you’re alright.”
You hear, “breathe with me.”
You hear your friends, though a by-product of your former not-relationship with Jaehyun, care for you. It’s just what you need. Johnny kisses your forehead in much of the same matter that your mom would when you were younger, Taeyong rubs your back, and Haechan cries with you.
When your sobs have calmed to sniffles and a steady somewhat stream of tears, you peel yourself off Johnny’s chest with a stuffy apology. You wipe away the tears with shaking hands, “thanks, guys. I should go now, though.”
“I called Ari and Kira, so at least wait until they get here. We don’t want you leaving in this state alone,” Haechan tells you quietly, like he’s afraid that speaking any louder will break you even further.
You shake your head fervently in response, responding in a broken voice, “I can’t be here any longer.”
Taeyong nods, leading you to the door. For a second you feel your heart break all over again, he’s kicking you out. One of the closest friends you’ve made in the frat is kicking you out. But he answers with a simple, “we can wait outside on the porch then. The fresh air will be good for all of us.”
You sit on the brick steps of the house, taking deep breaths that Johnny guides you through with Haechan’s hand in yours while Taeyong brushes your hair away from your face. You’re thankful for them. Thankful that even though this house has brought you heartbreak, it has also brought you love in all forms. Your backpack is planted beside you, a warm wind breezing against your heated skin. The air is sweet with a breeze all too warm for this point in the year, but your body needs it.
You hear Ari and Kira before you see them. Ari’s high pitched yell, “where is that bastard?! I’ll kill him!”
Kira hisses out, “shut the fuck up! She doesn’t need this right now!”
Both girls engulf you in a warm hug that has your chest heaving all over again, wanting to just get all the bitter pain out of your body. Ari takes your bag, helping you up to your feet while Kira takes your hand in hers giving it a reassuring squeeze.
You turn to your fratboy friends, feeling more tears, not because of Jaehyun, but because you know you won’t see them as much. They have loyalties to Jaehyun that you won’t impede on, a literal brotherhood, but you hate that in losing Jaehyun you have also lost your good friends.
You clear your throat, “Thanks for helping me out, I guess I’ll see you guys around.” Your voice breaks, “I’m going to miss you guys and I'm really sorry about what you heard—”
“Don’t talk like that, Sweets, and don’t apologize. We’re not going anywhere— we’re still your friends. You girls get home safe, we’ll see you,” Taeyong smiles sweetly.
Johnny embraces you one more time, a tight squeeze with a swift peck to your temple, “everything will work itself out, I know it.”
You nod, thanking him in a quiet whisper before accepting a hug from Taeyong. You turn to Haechan, expecting his hug, but he rolls his eyes, “the fuck, Sweets? I’m coming with you girls.”
You wave goodbye to the Nu Chi Theta president and vice president one last time, letting your eyes wander over the exterior of the house you’d been a frequent visitor of for four months. With one last glance and a reluctant glance at the third window on the far right, you leave.
a/n: feedback would be very, very appreciated! Thank you for reading this far! I don't have an exact date for part 2 so please don't rush, I'm not leaving them off on a bad note! :)
synopsis: being five months pregnant sometimes has you on the edge, but Mark is always there for you — to bring you comfort and everything you need.
pairing: future girl dad!mark x pregnant!reader
genre: fluff, domesticity, established relationship
word count: 2.8k
contains: reader is dealing with pregnancy hormones and mark is on the receiving end, questionable food choices (because of pregnancy — week 22 btw), sweet and patient husband!mark. mark makes an observation and that's how they come up with the nickname for their baby. writer!mark. fluff galore.
author's note: a small piece about what it was like for reader and dad!mark to expect the arrival of their sweet cookie!!! <3 meelings (mark feelings) are open (always) (so feel free to discuss anything mark related with me <3) not proofread.
read more of dad!mark & cookie: HERE & HERE or check the masterlist for the 🍪 emoji
Mark’s soft snores are making you go insane. Every little breath he takes is irritating you more, and more, and more each time, so much that it’s driving you over the edge.
You’re a very light sleeper, and sometimes even just something as insignificant as Mark’s innocent stirring in his sleep disturbs you. On the other hand, your husband is a very heavy sleeper. You could be playing drums next to his head and he wouldn’t flinch, but you can’t really blame him.
You know he’s exhausted, you know he gets consumed by his work, writing all day until he enters a despicable writer’s block that doesn’t allow him to pick a pen up again for the next four days. He’s an overachiever, a perfectionist, a very talented and hardworking author, and most important thing of all — he loves what he’s doing, and honestly nothing else matters if this makes him feel fulfilled and happy.
But there are nights like this one, when you can’t sleep and you feel incredibly hot. You already discarded your pyjamas two hours ago, opting to stay in your usual sleeping attire — a pair of comfortable panties and one of Mark’s large, old t-shirts. And this is another thing that keeps bothering you, — one moment you’re cold and another you’re incredibly hot.
Mark stirs in his sleep, rolling over to face you, his arm stretching over your body to reach for your baby bump, and he rests his ringed hand on top of the rounded belly in an almost automatic motion, out of instinct — he knows how you sleep and that you never sleep too far away from his figure, so he has easy access to your body.
You can’t see his face in the dark of the room, but you know he’s sleeping soundly by the way you hear he’s breathing. And once again it’s starting to bother you.
You stretch your arm to reach for your nightstand, switching the lamp light on, and the room is immediately bathing in a dim and warm light, just enough not to disturb Mark in any kind of way. Not that he’d be disturbed by anything, anyway.
You push yourself up, your back touching the headboard of the bed, and Mark’s hand slides on your thigh, not even feeling you moving beside him. You look down at his sleeping figure, and he’s so peaceful, his smooth eyelids are basically asking for you to plant some sweet kisses on top of them, but you’re sure it would make him stir in his sleep, he’ll know you’re not sleeping and that something’s wrong, and he’ll wake up immediately. You don’t want that. Albeit having to deal with your own frustration of not being able to drift to sleep and feeling incredibly tired, almost on the edge of throwing up, you don’t want to wake him up. He needs the rest, and you might be able to sleep tomorrow during the day, who knows.
You touch your bump, feeling your daughter kicking around like she’s chasing something, and you hope that the warmth of your hand on your belly will appease her restlessness. It works for a while, but your breasts feel sore all of a sudden, and you massage them gently hoping to feel better soon.
Except you don't, and your mouth starts salivating at the thought of absolutely nothing. You know this feeling, and you’re not really a fan of it. You look at the time on your phone, your pregnancy cravings kicking at 1 am and taking your whole body by surprise.
You move Mark’s hand from your thigh, and you walk towards the kitchen hoping to find something that will satisfy your needs and cravings. You snoop around the containers laying around the fridge, smelling the things you cooked and what Mark’s mom brought by two days ago, and everything you sniff makes you want to hurl. You’re grateful you’re not a victim of the pregnancy sickness — not anymore at least, — but you suddenly feel like crying the moment you realise there’s nothing in your fridge or pantry that can satisfy this weird craving you’re having. You’re not even sure what you’re craving, but it’s making your breasts incredibly sore and firm to the touch, and you know you need to do something, anything, for it to stop.
So you tiptoe back to your bedroom, where Mark is sleeping like a log in the same position you left him, and you sit next to his laying figure, by the edge of the bed on his side.
“Mark,” you touch his back, massaging it slowly, trying to wake him up gently. Poor soul will think it’s already morning and that he overslept, because you’re always waking him up this way when he doesn’t hear the alarm. No response, not even a snoring sound comes out of him. “Mark, baby” you try again, moving your hands from his back to his shoulders, squeezing his muscles just the right amount.
No sound, no movement. You’re starting to grow irritated, so you snatch the duvet covering his torso.
“Mark, wake up!” You raise your voice a bit, and he raises his head from the pillow, all alarmed. He turns around to look at you, sleep gone from his eyes as he’s visibly shaken by your way of waking him up, but he’s also panicking because he knows you wouldn’t wake him up unless it’s something serious.
“Baby? What happened? What’s wrong? You’re alright?” You’re bombarded with questions as he pushes himself up on the mattress and pillow, his back touching the headboard just like your body did half an hour ago.
“Calm down!” You tell him, grabbing his face and squeezing his cheeks a bit, knowing this will really let him know nothing’s wrong.
“Is the baby okay?” He asks, looking at your bump, knowing that your baby girl has been causing you some distress and sleepless nights in the last weeks.
“Yes, apart from the fact that she kicks me like she hates me,” you retort, sighing. “Actually, no,” you change your mind, and Mark feels taken by surprise by your change of heart, “She’s not okay, she’s craving something and I can’t fathom what it is! My boobs hurt, my back feels like it might give out soon, and I feel very tired but I can’t fall asleep!” You snarl, and Mark needs a few moments to process your words, and all your current problems.
He touches your wrist, massaging it slowly. You’re so beautiful, wearing his t-shirt to sleep, your hair a bit messy from all the toss and turning in bed, and your lips plump that are basically asking to be kissed. It’s that pregnancy glow, that he never believed in, but he was so wrong. You were so beautiful before, but the pregnancy brings an added shimmering layer of glow to all your features, even if you hate all the moods and the pain it’s putting you through.
Your pregnant belly is touching his hip as he massages your wrist trying to calm you down. He starts listing all the foods he knows you’ve craved before, trying to find out what it is you want right know so he can make it a little bit more bearable.
You start to get tired of hearing him talking, because nothing’s appealing to you right now.
“Don’t you understand?” You burst out, eyes brimming with tears, “It’s nothing you’ve listed! I’m not even sure we have it in our house, I don’t even know what it is!” You cry, and Mark lurches towards your figure, patting your back, trying to comfort you.
“It’s okay baby, we’ll figure this out in a matter of minutes, I’m sure,” he tries to reassure you, digging in his own brain for foods to list.
“I think I want pickles,” you whisper after calming down, your mouth salivating immediately after you say the words.
“Pickles? Really?” Mark asks excited, knowing you have those in your house. All the pickled side dishes his mom regularly prepares for you, and the few jars of pickles you have laying around in the fridge.
“Not the ones we have downstairs,” you retort, guessing what he’s thinking, “I want those in brine. The salty, succulent cucumbers in brine, and we don’t have any,” you conclude. Just the thought of the regular pickles with vinegar that you have in your fridge makes you sick.
You see Mark getting out of bed, opening some drawers to fish for a hoodie and sweats.
“What are you doing?” You ask, frowning a bit.
“I think my mom has a few jars in her pantry,” he responds simply, as if he’s saying he’s going downstairs because he forgot the phone inside the car.
“And you’re going to your mom’s at 1 am?” You ask shocked, going after him as he moves to the bathroom.
“Of course I am, I’m going to call her on my way,” he explains to you like it’s not a big deal. But to you it is a big deal, it’s late, your in laws have work in the morning, and you don’t want to be a burden to them.
“Mark, that’s not a good idea,” you say, going after him down the hallway towards the staircase.
“I have a spare key but I’d rather let them know I’m going over,” he puts his crocs on, and you look at him bewildered, not understanding why he’s doing this.
“I’ll wait until morning, don’t wake them up!” You plead, grabbing his hand to stop him from grabbing the car keys. “I’ll come with you if you go,”
“First of all,” he turns to look at you, “You can’t wait til morning, cravings are very important!” He grabs your face with his hands and crouches down to come to the same eye level as you, “And secondly, you’re not going anywhere! It’s cold outside, and there’s no traffic so I’ll be back in twenty minutes ,” he reassures you, and then he leaves.
And you’re left in the entry hallway like an abandoned puppy, still processing how you’ve basically woken your husband up, screamed at him, cried and freaked out so much that you forced him to go to the other side of the city just for some stupid pickles.
You feel a bit ashamed, but there’s nothing you can do now, agreeing with your husband’s words that cravings are a serious thing for both you and the baby.
So you walk towards the nursery, formerly a guests’ room, and you look at the blank walls and the space that’s not yet adorned. You and Mark plan to paint the walls, build the furniture and buy everything you need little by little. The only thing you already have is the small wardrobe containing some baby clothes, multiple packs of diapers and baby wipes, and you open a drawer where you know you stuffed the new things you bought a few days ago.
Mark convinced you to go on a little shopping spree, and he insisted on buying a few newborn dresses, a pair of baby shoes, and a set of baby toiletries. You open the pouch to look through the set, the small hairbrush and nail clipper bringing tears to your eyes, as you’re suddenly realising that you’re growing a small human inside of you. You imagine the small hands, the small fingers and palms that will grip your finger tightly, the fluffy baby hair on her small head. And Mark is already obsessed with her, her wellbeing, he’s already so thoughtful and protective of her and she’s not even born, as you're just halfway through your pregnancy.
You look at the small baby shoes, grabbing one and placing it in the palm of your hand, and it fits just a bit over its half. You touch your bump as you look at the baby shoe still in disbelief, and you fail to notice the tears streaming down your cheeks.
“Baby! I’m home,” you hear from downstairs, and your husband’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You take the baby shoes with you to the kitchen, where you find Mark opening the pickles jar for you to fish whichever piece you like.
“You came home fast,” you say, sitting at the kitchen island, and Mark’s gaze falls on the shoes you’re carrying. He picked those, he liked them so much he couldn’t resist.
He extends the jar towards you, walking around the island to reach you, and he kisses you swiftly before he grabs the small shoes in his own hands.
Mark’s hands are much larger than yours, so seeing how small the shoes look placed in the palm of his hand it’s even more of an endearing sight, and it makes your chest tingle with an unexplainable feeling.
The moment you taste the delicious cucumbers in brine made by Mark’s mom, you let a moan escape you. You close your eyes, savouring the divine and chewy vegetable, and Mark looks at you with a grin plastered on his face.
He pats your head, and you open your eyes to see him picking a cucumber as well. You both savour the food, and you eat a second piece on its own.
“Do we have jam?” You ask out of a sudden, and you don’t even know why you asked this, but Mark stops his movements, teeth sunk deep into his own piece of cucumber and he turns to look at you with a bewildered look on his face.
“What did you just ask?” He asks with his mouth full, making sure he heard you right the first time.
“I want some apricot jam, I know we have this,” and Mark feels reluctant before opening the fridge to fish for the jar.
“Baby please tell me you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to do,” he mumbles, but opens the jar nonetheless. Cravings are cravings, you can’t do anything about it.
You don’t answer him, but you dip your pickle inside the jam jar, and Mark can’t believe his eyes, — and ears, because as soon as you put the two foods in your mouth you let another moan escape you.
“Yo, that’s crazy,” he says, his voice cracking with disbelief.
You laugh at his remark, but extend your newly dipped pickle for him to taste. He’s not sure what to do, he doesn’t want to turn your offer down but he’s curious to see what it tastes like, — but he’s scared nonetheless. If you like it, it means it’s not that bad, but honestly he doesn’t trust you these days, with the amount of strange cravings you’ve been having.
He gives in, taking a bite out of the cucumber you’ve extended towards him, and it takes him a few seconds before the taste hits him.
He looks at you, his eyes a size you’ve never seen before, and he gasps as soon as he swallows the bite.
“Yo, baby! That’s actually so good!” He says but it comes out more as a question.
You laugh, and you push the jam jar towards him.
“I know! Odd mix but it works so well,” you agree, moaning at the taste once again, “Our daughter is a strange little thing already!” You conclude laughing, touching your belly as you look down.
“Hey, don’t call her that!” Mark frowns, but he knows you’re joking, so he joins you laughing.
“I’m sorry for waking you up and making you leave in the middle of the night,” you’re suddenly saddened by what you put your husband through, and he swallows the bite quickly.
“What are you talking about? I’d do anything for you, and our baby!” He says, pinching your cheek. “I can’t believe she’s the size of a sweet potato right now!” He mutters in disbelief, “She used to be the size of a cookie just a bit ago,”
“Cookie? I could have some cookies right now,” you tell him, pushing the pickle jar away. “I’m going upstairs,” you announce as you start walking out of the kitchen, “let’s have some cookies in bed, baby,” you propose, and he launches towards the pantry to grab them.
Cookie, cookie, cookie, Mark mulls the word over and over again, and he loves the way it sounds, — so sweet, like the actual treat, so cute, so fitting for an adorable little baby.
He runs out of the pantry, cookies tight in his grip, as he tries to reach you on the stairs.
The apartment was steeped in a quiet kind of tension. The dim afternoon light filtered through the rain-splattered windows, casting fractured shadows across the room. You stood at the threshold of the bedroom, your silhouette sharp against the soft gloom. Mark lay huddled under the covers, his figure a small, crumpled shape beneath layers of tangled sheets.
The air was thick, a mix of damp wool and the metallic edge of worry. His breathing was shallow, each inhale a frayed thread in the otherwise suffocating silence. You had warned him—pleaded, even—but Mark had always been as stubborn as he was kind. He had a habit of running himself ragged, of swallowing his exhaustion until it gnawed at him from the inside out.
"Mark Lee," your voice cut through the quiet, a taut string pulled to its breaking point. "I told you to rest. I told you, but you never listen."
He didn’t respond, only blinked up at the ceiling, his lashes heavy with the weight of a feverish haze. His skin was pale, marred by the pink flush of heat spreading across his cheeks and nose. His hair clung to his forehead in damp strands, his lips dry and cracked. The sight of him, so fragile and worn, sent a shiver of anger and fear skittering up your spine.
"You always do this," you continued, stepping closer. The floorboards creaked beneath your feet, a hollow echo in the dim room. "You think you’re invincible. You push yourself too hard, and for what? To prove something to someone? To yourself?"
His lips parted, his voice a hoarse rasp. "I... I didn’t want to let anyone down."
"And what about me?" Your voice trembled, and you hated it—the way your fear slipped through the cracks, raw and bleeding. "Do you think it doesn’t hurt me to see you like this? Do you think I don’t worry about you every time you brush me off and say you’re fine when you’re clearly not?"
Mark’s fingers tightened around the blanket, his knuckles white against the dull gray of the fabric. His breath hitched, and his shoulders rose in a sharp, uneven line. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls pressing in, trapping you in a cycle of words and regrets.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I didn’t mean to make you worry."
The apology hung in the air, fragile as a spider’s web. His chest rose and fell in shallow waves, his pulse a faint rhythm against the pale skin of his neck. You wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the heat of your frustration, but the sight of him—so small, so breakable—unraveled you.
His eyes shimmered, the unshed tears catching the weak light and holding it hostage. His lips quivered, the edges pulling down as if the weight of his guilt was too much to bear. And then, as if a dam had cracked open, a tear slipped free, carving a silent path down his cheek.
The sight shattered you.
"Baby..." Your voice softened, the edges worn smooth by regret. You knelt by the bed, your knees pressing into the cold wood, and reached out to him. Your fingers threaded through his hair, the strands cool and damp against your skin. He leaned into your touch, a quiet, desperate motion that spoke of exhaustion and the need to be held.
You shifted, slipping under the covers and wrapping your arms around him. His body was a live wire against yours, heat radiating from him in waves. He nestled his head against your chest, his breaths shallow and uneven, his fingers clutching at your shirt.
"I’m sorry," he repeated, the words muffled against your skin. "I just... I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it."
A lump formed in your throat, tight and aching. "Baby, you don’t have to prove anything to me. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. I need you to let me take care of you. Can you do that? For me?"
He nodded, a soft brush of movement against your chest. His tears soaked into the fabric of your shirt, warm and heartbreaking. You held him, your fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along his back, your lips pressing gentle kisses to his hair. You stayed like that, wrapped around each other, until the tension seeped out of his body, leaving him pliant and boneless in your arms.
When his breathing evened out, you slowly untangled yourself, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. His eyelids fluttered, a sleepy, vulnerable gesture that tugged at your heartstrings. "I’ll be right back," you murmured, brushing the hair from his face. "I’m going to make you something to eat, okay?"
He mumbled something incoherent, his fingers reaching for you even as you slipped away. You left the room quietly, pulling the door to a soft close behind you. The apartment felt colder without him in your arms, the air tinged with the lingering echoes of his tears.
In the kitchen, you moved on autopilot, gathering ingredients for a simple, soothing meal. The rhythm of chopping vegetables, the gentle simmer of broth, created a melody of normalcy that steadied you. You made congee, the kind his mother had taught you how to make, with ginger and chicken, the scent curling around you like a blanket.
When it was ready, you carried a tray back to the bedroom. Mark lay where you left him, his body a soft curve beneath the blankets. His eyes were closed, lashes fanned against his cheeks, but he stirred as you set the tray down.
"Baby," you whispered, brushing your fingers along his brow. His eyes opened slowly, the hazel flecked with the remnants of his earlier tears. You helped him sit up, propping pillows behind his back, and brought the bowl to his lips. He accepted each spoonful without protest, his movements sluggish but trusting.
After he’d eaten, you tucked him back under the covers, slipping into bed beside him. He turned into you immediately, his head finding its home on your chest. You cradled him, your fingers combing through his hair, your lips leaving soft, featherlight kisses along his forehead, his temple, the bridge of his nose.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of soft touches and quiet reassurances. You held him through the fever, through the fitful dreams, through the moments when his body shivered against yours. You whispered to him, promises woven into the silence, telling him he was loved, that he didn’t have to be strong all the time, that you’d be his strength when he needed it.
And when night fell, drawing a curtain of darkness around the room, Mark finally slept soundly, his breathing deep and even. You stayed awake, your arms a cocoon around him, your heart a steady drumbeat against his ear. You knew there would be more days like this, more battles against his stubbornness and your own fears.
But you also knew that in those quiet moments, when the world was small and the only thing that mattered was the steady rise and fall of his chest, you would always be there. To hold him, to soothe him, to love him with every gentle touch, every whispered word, every soft kiss.
pairing | non-idol!haechan x fem!reader
word count | 6.4k words
synopsis | a bet with your enemy where the winner gets whatever they want, what could possibly go wrong? besides, you weren't one to lose, especially to lee haechan.
content | enemies to lovers (one-sided), flirty, smut, lots of back and forth, they love to cut each other off, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe!), teasing, hair pulling, some marking, messy
request | haechan + 1 (as part of valentine's gift series)
meeting up with your friends after class was almost routine at this point. your chosen hang-out spot was the small garden area at the centre of campus, always sitting on the grass as the tables were always taken. the small group of you would take it as an opportunity to debrief and vent about your days. however, today was different. when you had agreed to meet with everyone like you always do, you were expecting an opportunity to vent about the group assignment coming up or how your latest essay was marked way too harshly. instead, you were greeted by talk of date night plans and romantic gifts.
it was valentine’s day, and you hadn’t even noticed. cursing yourself for not noticing, you reluctantly sat down alongside your friends, preparing yourself for an hour of listening to just how great everyone else’s love life was.
you were barely paying attention when the sound of your name brought you back to reality. it seems that your friends had all finished talking about their plans. all eyes shifted to you, it now your turn to detail your valentine’s plans. being the only single one of the group, you didn’t know exactly why they were asking. You decided to indulge them anyway. You began to rattle off something about how you had decided to spend the holiday alone. Too engrossed in coming up with a plausible story, you failed to hear the sound of footsteps coming up behind you.
“alone on valentines, a little sad, isn’t it?” you froze, recognising that voice from anywhere. you turned to look up at a smirking haechan. your eyes immediately narrowed, looking away from him with a scoff. you hated how he always seemed to have this air of smugness around him. hated how he seemed to command the attention of whatever room he walked into. you hated how he now sat across from you, giving you the same look he always seemed to give you. a knowing look as though he had you right where he wanted you to be, like it was only a matter of time before you fell for him like everyone else seemed to.
you hate lee haechan. and you would never give him the satisfaction of falling for him.
“god you’re annoying. didn’t your mother ever teach you to not interrupt people when they’re speaking” you spat, arms coming to cross underneath your chest. you didn’t miss the way that haechan’s eyes travelled downward to watch the movement before snapping back upward again, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
“she did, but i’m sure you can teach me some more… creative ways to shut up.” haechan leant back down onto the grass, body spread out and on full display and a hand brushing through his hair. your eyes scanned his body as he did so, feeling a slight heat rising to your ears at the sight. he was attractive, not that you’d ever let him hear that. you were stubborn, not a liar. if only his personality better matched his looks, maybe then things would be different between the two of you.
haechan just couldn’t seem to wipe the smirk off his face. he had clearly noticed the way you had noticed him. it was clear to you now that his actions being done with the intent of you gawking over him. you hated the way he got some sort of sick enjoyment out of getting a rise out of you.
“you’re actually disgusting.”
this was the normal routine between the two of you. whenever your friends has the displeasure of being in the same room as you both, they would watch your back and forths like a tennis match. haechan would always open like he had tonight with some teasing remark, always seeming to know how to push your buttons just right. you would then follow up with some kind of insult, only for haechan to then turn it into some vaguely sexual innuendo. your back and forth would continue like that until you both felt satisfied. your friends now knew better than to try to intervene after being reprimanded many times before, instead choosing to take a backseat to it all.
so that’s what your friends did, choosing to watch on in silence as you continued to go at one another. and while they knew that haechan’s comments came with the intention of driving you mad, they would have to be blind not to notice the obvious tension between the two of you. they were just waiting to see who would cave first.
“why don’t i do you a favour and take you out, that way you won’t be lonely.” haechan suggested. he now had a certain look in his eye, as though he would be doing you a favour by taking you out. you tried to barely pay it any mind, fobbing his comment off.
“i don’t need you to take me out, if i wanted to have a date, i could go out and get one.”
“really? want to bet on it?” now that caught your attention. “if you get a date by midnight you win, if you don’t, i win.” haechan continued, now sitting back upright.
“what does the winner get?”
“anything they want, so long as it isn’t too crazy.” you thought it over. knowing haechan, this was probably some sort of trap. and yet, you couldn’t seem to figure out what the downside could be. sure, there were many things haechan could force you to do if you lost. but you don’t lose, and you weren’t planning on starting now.
“bagging a date and getting to see the look on your face when i win. how could i refuse?” you sated, returning haechan’s smug attitude.
the two of you fleshed out the details together, while your friends carried on their own conversations. you needed to secure and go on a date before valentine’s was over. it could be anyone, so long as it was a legitimate date and not just some friend you had convinced to play along. you also had to make sure to get some sort of evidence of your date, such as a picture or a gift. once it was past midnight, you would meet haechan outside his dorm room and determine who was the winner.
the winner would get whatever they want from the other person, so long as it is within reason. the two of you went back and forth about what exactly ‘within reason’ meant. haechan eventually suggested that there be some sort of veto system whereby you could bypass a request, stating “i’m not an asshole, i’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to do.”. that was before immediately suggesting that using the veto would be the ‘cowards way out’ and something that ‘he would never do’. after thinking it over one last time, you held out your hand in agreement. haechan simply smirked at this, reaching forward to take your hand into his own. you firmly shook hands, sealing your agreement.
finding a date was going to be so easy, you had nothing to worry about.
fuck dates. fuck valentine’s. and fuck people who had dates on valentine’s.
turns out, finding a date at 6pm on valentine’s day wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be. though the universe did seem to enjoy making you suffer, so you don’t know why you were surprised. anyone you had been talking to or were casually interested in seeing were busy, already having made plans for the night.
at 7pm, you messaging anyone you had come in to some sort of contact with in your classes to see if they were free. anyone from people you’ve done a group project with to the people you’ve simply exchanged greetings with. all seemed to be busy with their own plans.
by 8pm, you were stalking the social media pages of your exes, trying to figure out if any of them were single and would be willing to take you out. much to your dismay, they all appeared to be in some sort of relationship that would prevent them from taking you out. and even though you knew some of them were shitty enough to take you out despite having someone else in their lives, you weren’t about to step on anyone's toes.
9pm brought with it desperation. time was well and truly ticking now, and you still had no hope in sight. that’s how you ended up with a horde of freshly installed dating apps staring back at you. you must have broken some kind of record trying to set them all up, cursing whoever decided that you needed to hand over your life story in order to have a complete profile.
once you got in, you immediately began swiping right in every profile that came your way, not caring if your efforts came off as desperate so long as you won. matches trickled in at a snails pace it seemed. half of them were looking for a hook-up, you now being traumatised by multiple unsolicited dick pics. the other half seemed unwilling to meet you straight away.
10pm signalled you losing hope. you finally just began to be brutally honest with the people you were matching with, hoping one of them would take pity on you and take you out. you weren’t having much luck with that strategy either, even having one of your accounts banned after one match was particularly concerned for your well-being.
11pm was when you were meant to meet the one guy crazy enough to take you up on your offer. you had thanked any holy figure you could think of when you matched, the guy being both close to campus and not scared off by your whole date-to-win-a-bet thing. you had agreed to meet at the 24-hour café on campus. and yet as the time ticked on, your match was nowhere to be found. 11 became 11:15 then 11:30 and still nothing. at 11:45 you accepted your fate, you had been stood up.
well that’s embarrassing.
but nowhere near as embarrassing it will be to admit defeat to haechan. when the alarm went off on your phone signalling that it was now midnight, you could have cried. you had actually managed to lose. you begrudgingly grabbed your things and left the café to make your way over to haechan’s dorm. after six hours of hopelessly searching for a date, you don’t think you were mentally prepared to deal with his antics. but a deal’s a deal.
pushing the door to haechan’s dorm building took more out of you than you would like to admit, your dignity seemingly vanishing into the wind. as you approached haechan’s dorm room, his figure came into view. he was wearing the same ripped jeans and sweater as before now paired with a pair of thick dark frames you had only ever seen him wear before on days when he had forgotten to put his contacts in. he chose to lean against the wall and play with his phone as he waited for you. you had taken notice of the outfit before, as you thought he looked particularly nice today. how did he manage to look this good, so late? shouldn’t he be dishevelled and in his pajamas by now?
but it also got you thinking. did haechan even have a date of his own? you knew he didn’t have a girlfriend to go out with, but maybe someone else? that would explain why he was still so well put together so late at night. but during your hangout, he never mentioned having a date of his own. and he hadn’t posted anything to indicate he was going out. did he stay all dressed up because he was meeting with you? surely not.
the sound of your platform boots against the floor altered haechan to your presence. he put his phone away in his back pocket, his eyes finally looking up to meet yours. a smirk immediately graced his lips. it was clear on your expression, he had won. you positioned yourself on the wall on the other side of the hallway with a huff.
“you can wipe that smug grin off your face, just tell me what you want as a prize.” you conceded with a roll of your eyes. you hated losing, but this was even worse. you absolutely hated giving him the satisfaction. at least you could say you tried.
haechan simply watched you, revelling in your dismay. he didn’t seem to even mull over what he might make you do, having already thought it over with the assumption that he was going to win. you knew he already had something in mind, otherwise he wouldn’t have offered the deal in the first place. what exactly was he planning?
“for my prize, you owe me a kiss.” your eyes went wide, looking at him in pure horror. as much as you wanted to believe that you had misheard him, he was crystal clear in his request. images started flashing through your head of what it would be like to kiss haechan. him having to lean down to meet your lips, hands coming to grip at your waist. how good it would feel to have him pressing against you, fingers running through his hair as he claimed his prize.
what. the. actual. fuck. since when did you think about him like that? you would slap yourself for thinking like that, but haechan had a habit of sniffing out weakness, and you didn’t want to let him see you sweat. haechan narrowed his eyes at the lack of a clap back, expecting a more explosive response. you finally decided to indulge him.
“are you serious?” you exclaimed, ignoring the slight heat you felt on the tips of your ears.
“deadly.”
“out of all the things you could get, a kiss?” haechan simply nodded, looking at you expectantly. the thoughts from earlier came rushing back to you, cheeks flaring red now.
“i’m not kissing you!” you shouted before slamming a hand over your mouth, hoping that you hadn’t woken anyone in the dorm with your antics. haechan let out a small laugh, shaking his head.
“that’s unfair! it was part of the bet, i won fair and square. it’s a perfectly reasonable request!” he justified with a huff.
“to you maybe!”
“does the idea of kissing me turn you off that much?” haechan pouted, arms crossing over his chest. you had no reasonable response to that question. because despite what you insisted you felt for the man in front of you, the idea of kissing him was not turning you off. in fact, it was kind of doing the opposite. this had to be the result of sleep deprivation, or mental overexertion from trying to find a date in such a hurry. and well… he’s attractive, who wouldn’t want to kiss an attractive man?
lee haechan was trying to coax you into kissing him. and it was working.
you studied the expression on his face. at first, you thought he was playing it up, acting all pouty in an attempt to get you to cave. but underneath it all, there was something else. had your rejection managed to genuinely upset him? it seemed like it had. the back and forth between you had always been mostly lighthearted. and while you hated his attitude, you would never deliberately want to make someone upset.
well, that’s what you would say to justify what you were about to do.
haechan watched as somehow your cheeks managed to flush an even darker red, taking a couple steps forward so that you were well and truly in his personal space. you leant upwards to press a chaste kiss on his cheek, just below the mole on his cheek bone. you immediately scurried back to your side of the hallway, watching as haechan just processed what you did.
haechan was stunned. you had actually gone through with it. sort of. his eyes scanned over your blushing figure with a smirk, fingers coming up to trace where your lips had been. you watched on in horror, coming to grips with what you had just done. you could already hear the teasing remarks he was about to spew, most likely about how you hadn’t actually fulfilled your end of the deal.
he had managed to reduce you to a fumbling, blushing, rambling mess at the mere proposal of a kiss. which is probably why you jumped to speak before he could make fun of you.
“you never specified where you wanted to be kissed. if you wanted it to be somewhere specific, you should have said. i think i did you a favour by kissing you on the cheek. if anything, i think that’s a more valid form of kissing, more intimate even. i swear i read a study that said-” your rant was cut off by the feeling of lips against yours. you froze in place, eyes finally focusing on the image of haechan in front of you, his eyes having fluttered closed as he kisses you in the way he had originally intended to happen.
and for some reason that you would definitely have to unpack later, you began to kiss him back.
now that it was happening, your imagination did not do it justice. the way his soft lips left against yours. how he chose to cup your face with his hands instead of resting them on your waist. how he pulled you in closer to him as you reciprocated, his movements becoming more rushed as you leant into him. you gripped onto his sweater tightly as his tongue slid into your mouth, eliciting a sigh from the back of your throat.
it was a few minutes before the two of you parted, out of breath and panting into each other’s mouths. you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, coming to some silent agreement, before haechan turned around to open the door to his dorm room. you quickly shuffled inside, haechan following close behind as he closed and locked the door behind him.
you barely had time to kick your shoes off before he was on you again, lips pressing against yours in a way you could only describe as desperate. you returned his kiss with a giggle, hands coming up to tangle in his hair. at the feeling of you tugging on his hair, haechan let out a groan. he nipped lightly at your bottom lip before trailing kisses down the column of your neck. he seemed to find your most sensitive spots with ease, paying them the most attention as he basked in whatever small noises he could coax out of you.
he slowly began to move you both towards his bed, lips coming up to meet yours again. with the back of your legs hitting the edge of the bed, you felt haechan lightly push against your shoulder. now separated, you fell back against his mattress with a huff. you quickly shuffled further up the bed, watching as he crawled to be on top of you.
haechan paused when he came face-to-face with you. he stared down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. your cheeks grew warm at the intensity of his gaze, hands coming up to hide your face. haechan wasn’t having any of it, moving your hands to pin them either side of your head.
“what?” you finally questioned, unable to suppress the goofy smile forming on your lips. haechan let out a hearty laugh, leaning down to resume kissing you.
“you know, you could have easily won today.” he stated when he decided to pull away from you once more. you looked up at him in confusion.
“how?”
“you could have asked me out.” now you were even more confused. to accept your invitation for a date would have meant an automatic loss for him. did he want to lose?
“but that would mean you lost?”
“yeah, but it would have been worth it so see how happy winning made you.” oh. well that caught you off guard. you don’t think you had ever heard haechan say something so… romantic. and he was so genuine in his sentiment, that’s what caught you off guard the most.
haechan took your silence as an opportune moment to go back to pressing kisses against the sensitive spots on your neck. his fingers began to work at the buttons on your shirt. you watched in amusement as he struggled slightly.
“where’s all this sappiness been hiding?” you questioned, finally giving in and helping him to take off your blouse.
“it’s always been there. teasing you is just more fun.” he winked, quickly taking his own shirt off before resuming his trail of kisses down your collarbones and to the swell of your breasts.
“you’re actually evil.”
“yeah, but don’t act like you don’t like it that way.” haechan teased, movements pausing so he could rest his head on your chest and look up and you mischievously. you looked down at him and scoffed, mind beginning to conjure an appropriate retort. however, any rebuttal you had died on your tongue when haechan’s fingers slipped underneath your skirt to palm at you through your panties. he watched on with a smirk as your expression shifted from one of reprimand to pleasure.
haechan let out a quiet curse as he felt how wet you had gotten. he hastily pushed your panties aside, fingers coming to part your folds. you let out a moan as his fingers found your clit, drawing small circles around it. haechan positioned himself directly above you again, crashing your lips together in a hurried kiss. he ate up every single noise you gave him, tongue teasing them out of the back of your throat.
you felt him slip his middle finger inside of you, shallowly thrusting it in and out as his thumb came to resume the ministrations against your clit. you involuntarily parted from him with an elongated whine, back arching and head lulling back in pleasure. you felt yourself growing flushed at the depravity of it all. haechan fingering you underneath your skirt, groaning into the nape of your neck at how good you felt, spit slicked lips pressing against your skin with every noise.
“not so evil now am i?” he smirked, finally letting his finger slip all the way inside. you let out something between a laugh and a moan at the sensation, haechan somehow being able to angle his finger in just the right way to hit your most pleasurable spots with every thrust.
he was very clearly taunting you with his words, thinking he had rendered you incapable of engaging in the back and forth he enjoyed so much. the first time you attempted to respond, he slipped a second finger inside of you, resulting in you cutting yourself off with a gasp. haechan let out a small laugh at your reaction. it was like he knew you were about to make a smart ass comment. after a few more quiet moans made their way past your lips, you managed to respond.
“that’s debatable.” haechan watched you in amusement. it was clear from the way you were now gripping at his sheets that he was doing something right. and yet you still wanted to push him for more.
“how do i show you i’m good, then?” he asked with feigned innocence, removing his fingers from you entirely. you let out a high-pitched whine at the loss of pleasure. he backed off of you entirely, straddling your lap as he waited for a response. you let out a frustrated huff at his teasing.
haechan sat there silently, smirk growing wider with every moment. he wanted to do some good? then you were gonna tell him exactly how. you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, now once again face to face with the boy in your lap.
“by shutting up and putting that mouth to better use elsewhere.”
you let out a giggle as haechan pushed you back down into the mattress. he shimmied further down with his target in mind, trailing kisses along your abdomen as he moved downward. when he reached the waistband of your skirt he simply flipped the pleats up, dragging your panties down your legs and flicking them where he had flung all your other clothes.
he then positioned himself in front of your now exposed sex, letting out a string of curses at how good you looked to him. he began trailing kisses along your inner thighs, taking his time to leave some evidence behind that he had been there. on reflex, your thighs came to close around his head. he let out a groan at the feeling, hands coming up to hold them apart.
you sat up onto your elbows, letting out small noses at the feeling of his lips against your thighs. although you were a little confused. why hadn’t he taken your skirt off? surely it was just getting in the way at this point. just as he was about to move on to the main event you gripped at his hair, holding him in place. he looked up at you with an irritated look, disappointed you had just prevented him from getting a taste.
“you’re keeping my skirt on?” you questioned, your hold on haechan’s hair loosening. he furred his eyebrows in response.
“yeah? is that a problem?”
“yeah it is.”
“why?” you knew it wouldn’t be as simple as him agreeing and moving on, it never was. you were beginning to feel embarrassed by your protest, remaining in silence instead of answering. haechan sensed your reluctance, rubbing soothing circles into your thighs. “i can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” he added, looking up at you with genuine concern.
“i wanna watch you.” you admitted quietly, avoiding his gaze. haechan felt himself relax in knowing that he hadn’t done anything wrong. haechan pursed his lips as he contemplated his response. he could give in, but where was the fun in that?
“well i think you look really fucking hot in this skirt, so i’m gonna keep it on.”
“but-“
“y/n, relationships are about compromise.” haechan said with a mocking tone. the situation was almost comical. you two were probably the only people who would start bickering over the way you were about to be eaten out.
“we’re not in a relationship!” you corrected with a huff.
“just give me about five minutes and i’ll convince you otherwise.” he said with a wink, hands reaching up to grab at the hem of your skirt. he pushed it up in your direction, waiting for you to grab onto it. you did so despite your confusion, looking down at him in disbelief.
“what does that even-“ you cut yourself off with a loud moan, haechan licking a stripe up your pussy. you clung onto you skirt for dear life as haechan began to tongue at you. you watched on intently as his tongue moved against you expertly.
that didn’t last very long though, as the sensation of him finally paying attention to your clit again drove you back down into the mattress. you were sure the noises you were letting out now were loud enough for his dorm mates to hear, but you didn’t care. you released your hold on your skirt to grip at haechan’s hair, hips bucking against his face as he continued to suck on your clit.
haechan let out a groan at the feeling of your nails against his scalp. he was trying to focus on getting you off. but fuck. the sight of you was practically pornographic, expression contorted in pleasure, lips wide open with continuous moans pouring from them. haechan couldn’t help himself. he began to buck his hips against the mattress, clinging on to the small amount of pleasure that was providing.
you were well and truly lost to the pleasure at this point, fucking yourself against haechan’s face in search for your release. you untangled one your hands from his hair to push the cups of your bra aside, boobs spilling out. you began to pinch at your nipples eliciting a high whine from the back of your throat. haechan watched on in amazement, growing even more turned on if that was possible.
you were getting close, movements becoming more frenzied and desperate. haechan seemed to pick up on this. he slipped two fingers back inside of you, curling them to hit your sensitive spot just right. he felt you clenching around him, wetness dripping down his fingers and onto his sheets. that’s a problem he would gladly deal with later. you had a vice-like grip on his hair, chasing after your orgasm with little care for anything else.
your climax rushed in, suddenly clouding your senses. your eyes screwed shut as your back arched up off the bed in pleasure. haechan let out an audible whine against your clit at the way you tightened around his fingers, having to halt the movement of his own hips to avoid cumming in his pants. he helped you ride out your orgasm, only removing himself once you started letting out small whines of overstimulation.
you fell back against his mattress with a content sigh. you watched as haechan cleaned up his fingers using his tongue. when he caught your gaze he sent a wink your way. you simply shook your head with a laugh, this in contrast to the way your thighs clenched together at the sight. when you had regained some energy you came to sit up next to him. haechan looked at you expectantly, the same smug grin he wore earlier in then day now once again on his lips.
“have i convinced you?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss against your lips. you didn’t let go get away that easy. you pulled him back in, tongue slipping into his mouth. he gladly returned your movements, letting out a groan when you backed up to suck on his tongue. after a few moments, you pulled away from him, suppressing a giggle at his disappointed expression from your separation.
“almost.” you beamed. haechan looked back at you in exasperation.
“jesus woman! what more do you need?” he whined, bottom lip coming forward in a pout. it was now your turn to smirk at him.
“lie down.” you commanded. haechan complied without much thought, lying back against his mattress. you turned to straddle his thighs, reaching forward to open up his jeans. he watched on, wide-eyed, as you pulled his jeans and boxers down simultaneously, getting them off without much help from him. you bit your lip as his cock sprung back against his abdomen, tip leaking at the lack of proper attention it had received. he let out a groan as you grabbed his cock. you shifted yourself forward, your other hand coming to align yourself with him.
once his mind came back to him, haechan scrambled to stop you. he didn’t want you to think that he had only done all of this in order to get something in return. you looked back at him confused, wanting to know why he was hesitating.
“hey, you know you don’t need to do this. i wasn’t expecting anything. i’m totally fine if you leave now. i’ll be even better than fine, i’ll be amazing, spectacular even. here, i’ll just-“ you cut him off by sinking down onto his cock. you both simultaneously let out a moan at the feeling. you relished in the feeling of haechan stretching you out, while he let out strings of curses at the feeling of you being wrapped around him. once you were fully seated, you leant forward to press a quick kiss against haechan’s lips.
“you won the bet, now enjoy your prize.” you smiled. haechan returned your expression, smiling up at you brightly. you pushed back on his shoulders to position yourself up right again. you stared down at him as you lifted up your hips before slamming them back down again.
haechan watched intently as you rode him. the focused look on your face, the way your tits bounced against your bra with every movement, the way you frustratedly flipped your skirt out of the way when it was messing with your chosen rhythm. he loved how you were letting him see you like this. not the uptight and well put together person he always saw, but another side to you entirely. desperate and messy, doing whatever you could to get a sound of pleasure out of him.
“you look like a fucking mess.” haechan let slip. your movements faltered slightly, the comment flustering you. you weren’t normally like this. haechan always seemed to bring out different sides to you, and you were beginning to realise that you really enjoyed it.
“do you ever shut up?” you snapped back with a particularly harsh bounce. haechan let out a whine, hands coming to grip at your hips, halting your movements.
“i mean in a hot way! you look so fucking hot right now.” he clarified, worried he had accidentally offended you. in response, you rolled your eyes, hips rocking slightly on his cock in impatience.
“you still haven’t answered my question.”
“i’ll shut up if you make me.” challenge accepted. your lips came together in a mess, almost missing each other entirely. once haechan settled on sucking on your bottom lip, he began to thrust up into you. you let out a loud curse at the sudden movement, giving him the go ahead to take over.
haechan used his grip on your hips as leverage to continue thrusting into you, finally allowing himself to chase his own orgasm. his sharp and rough movement were sure as hell taking you along for the ride, finding yourself meeting his movements as you cried out in pleasure. haechan’s head came to rest in the nape of your neck, using it as a way to suppress his whines and groans.
as his movements became sloppier, you could tell that haechan was close. the feeling of you clenching around him was definitely helping that along. you felt your own release building up once again, hands coming to grip at haechan’s shoulders for leverage. nether of you were lasting much longer, and you were both perfectly fine with that.
haechan came first, groans morphing into whines, which morphed into a loud string of curses as he released inside of you. you continued to ride him, chasing after your own release. haechan let out whines of oversensitivity as you rode him to your own completion. you came with a loud moan, nails digging into his back, almost guaranteeing that there will be marks left there in the morning.
you let out a whine as you moved off of his cock, feeling his release leaking out of you. haechan shot off of the bed, racing to get a cloth for you to clean yourself up with. you let out a lazy laugh at his swiftness, thanking him for the cloth when he handed it over. haechan pulled you into his chest when he returned to the bed, wrapping his arms around you as you nuzzled into his chest.
“so… what now?” you asked, playing with his fingers.
“well, did i convince you that we should be together?”
“you haven’t even taken me on a date!” you exclaimed, looking up at him with a teasing look. haechan took a moment to think it over before he shot out of bed once again, reaching for where his boxers had landed. he slipped them on before reaching for his pants, you looking at him in confusion.
“what are you doing, i’m tired.”
“too bad. get up, we’re going on a date.” you shot up in the bed in shock, looking at him like he was crazy.
“now?!”
“i’ve waited for you long enough, we’re going out now.” you let out a scoff at his suggestion. you looked down at yourself, thighs covered in bruises that your skirt barely covers, said skirt being crumpled and creased from having two sets of hands gripping on to it. you didn’t even want to think about how your hair or makeup looked right now.
“i look like a mess!” you whined, slamming your hands down onto the mattress.
“i thought i made it clear to you that i’m into that.” haechan stated, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you let out an annoyed sigh. his insistence had worked, and you were giving in to his request.
“fine! just give me a second.” the second you attempted to walk away from his mattress your legs refused to comply, faltering and causing you to stumble back onto the mattress. haechan burst out laughing at your display, your cheeks blazing red at his reaction.
“holy shit! i mean, i knew i was good, but i didn’t know i was that good.” haechan joked, going around the room to pick up the various clothing items of yours that had been flung around during your activities.
“god, you’re annoying!” you complained as haechan began to help you back into your clothes. he even went so far as to help you slip your shoes back on, tying and zipping them up. you watched on with a soft smile on your lips, cherishing the romantic gesture. haechan looked up to catch you staring down at him with your love struck smile. he let out a small laugh, standing up slightly so that he was now face to face with you.
“don’t act like you would have it any other way.” haechan whispered against your lips before giving them a peck. you hated that he was right, but you couldn’t help but smiled at how well he could read you. he let you go and fix your hair and makeup quickly, watching you in the mirror of his bathroom as you did so.
once you were done, haechan outstretched his hand for you to grab. you took it gladly, being pulled into his embrace. his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you out of his dorm room, going on about how he was going to give you the best post-sex date you’ve ever had. you don’t think that either of you had ever had one of those before, but you weren’t gonna correct him, simply looking forward to whatever he was pulling out of his ass as a last minute plan.
and at that moment you decided that maybe liking lee haechan wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
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୨୧ Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)
Masterlist
Mark
Mark hates arguing, especially when he’s away from you. The moment tensions rise, he tries to defuse the situation.
"Babe, I don’t want to fight like this, not when I’m so far away." His voice is tight with stress, exhaustion evident. "Can we just... please, let’s talk it out calmly?"
If you’re still upset, he gives you space but constantly checks in. He sends messages like "I miss you, let’s fix this, okay?" and "I love you too much to let this ruin our day." He’ll apologize if he’s wrong and try to make things right before going on stage.
Renjun
Renjun can be blunt, and that sometimes escalates arguments. If he’s frustrated, his words might come out sharper than he intends.
"You know I don’t like fighting over the phone. It just makes things worse." He sighs, rubbing his temples. "Look, I need to focus on the concert, but I don’t want to leave this unresolved. Let’s talk properly after, okay?"
If you need reassurance, he tries his best to comfort you. He might send you a voice note, his tone softer. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I miss you, and it sucks that we’re arguing."
Jeno
Jeno is quiet when he’s upset, so he doesn’t argue much. But if there’s a conflict, he listens carefully before responding.
"I don’t want to fight when I can’t even hold you right now." His voice is low but firm. "I get that you’re upset, and I want to fix it. Just… let’s not make it worse by yelling."
If you’re crying, he gets even softer. He doesn’t like feeling helpless, so he reassures you: "I love you. Nothing’s going to change that. Just give me a little time to figure this out with you, okay?"
Haechan
Haechan can be playful even in serious situations, but when he knows it’s bad, he tries to make you smile through the tension.
"So, you’re mad at me, huh? On a scale from ignoring my texts to blocking me, where are we at?"
If you don’t laugh, he gets serious. "I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t care. I do. So much. Fighting while I’m here sucks, and I don’t want to spend the night feeling like this. Can we fix it?"
After his concert, he spams you with messages, voice notes, and memes. He won’t sleep until you’re okay again.
Jaemin
Jaemin is affectionate, and being away from you makes arguments ten times harder. He tries to fix things immediately.
"I don’t care what it takes. We’re not going to sleep angry." His voice is soft but determined. "I know I’m not there, but I’m still your boyfriend. Talk to me."
If you’re too upset, he gives you space but texts things like "Whenever you’re ready, I’m here. I love you, don’t forget that." He sends you a cute picture of himself pouting, hoping it makes you smile.
Chenle
Chenle doesn’t like fighting at all and tends to approach conflict logically.
"We’re both upset right now, and I don’t want to say things we’ll regret. Let’s take a breather and talk properly when we’ve calmed down."
He’s not cold he just doesn’t want emotions to take over. But if he hears you crying, his resolve softens. "Hey… don’t cry. I hate knowing you’re sad while I’m not there to hold you."
After the concert, he calls you immediately. He won’t let the argument drag on longer than necessary.
Jisung
Jisung struggles with expressing his feelings, so if you argue, he might go quiet at first.
"I don’t know what to say right now… I just—this sucks. I don’t like fighting with you."
But when he hears the sadness in your voice, he gathers his thoughts. "I don’t want to ignore this, but I also don’t want to make things worse. Let’s figure this out together, yeah?"
Later, he sends a long text explaining his thoughts more clearly, making sure you know he cares.
(cw: so in my head in the fratboy!jae universe they just speak the same unspecified language… so this will be an alt timeline ALSO I used google translate so this will NOT be accurate )
You giggled as you walked over to fratboy!Jaehyun as he made himself breakfast. He was busy stirring something in the pan as you took a seat on a stool just a few feet away from him.
“Hey baby?” You ask with a sweet smile. He has no idea what’s coming…
“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jaehyun replies, beginning to plate his eggs.
“So I’ve been doing my Duolingo for a couple months now, but I feel like I’m not learning the important stuff. Can you help me?”
Jaehyun’s face lights up, “of course! I’m happy to help you, sweet girl.”
Jaehyun had been beyond excited when he found out you were learning Korean. He was happy to help you out when you asked for help or help you correct your pronunciation when you wanted to practice your new vocabulary. He didn’t rush you in anyway, but he was very much looking forward to you being able to have full conversations with him. He was so excited that he made sure you kept up with your streak, never using any freezes.
You were excited too! It would be great to be able to communicate with your boyfriend and his family in their native tongue, and it would give you an extra edge. Another language to add to your repertoire, yes please!
“How do you say: you’re so handsome?” You asked Jaehyun as he took the seat beside you.
“Neo jeongmal jalsaeng-gyeoss-eo,” you repeat slowly. Jaehyun nods at your pronunciation and you repeat it a little faster with a bright smile.
“Good job, sweetheart. What else?” He asks while taking a bite of his food.
“What if I wanted to ask… do you have a girlfriend?”
Jaehyun chokes, his face turning red as his eyes water. He coughs, clearing his airway as he pounds a fist against his chest. “W-what? Why would you need to ask that?” He chokes out, quickly gulping down some water.
“I’m a great wingwoman! It’s not for me, don’t worry,” you lie with a smile.
“Alright… you say, na-egen ganghan namjachinguga iss-eoyo,” Jaehyun tells you after a second. (I have a strong boyfriend.)
“That doesn’t sound right…” you trail off with an arch of your brow.
“Sweetheart, who’s teaching who right now?” He replies with his own raised brow.
“It’s just I already know that boyfriend is ‘namja chingu’ so why would I repeat that if I’m asking if someone has a girlfriend?” You ask in response.
“Whatever, what’s next?” Jaehyun asks taking another bite of food.
“What if I want to ask for someone’s instagram?”
Your boyfriend groans, “this can’t be for your friends, why do you need to know this?!”
“Just tell me! Potential friends have instagram too!” You exclaim.
“Just say this, kkeojyeo,” Jaehyun shrugs. (Fuck off.)
“That’s not it!” You whine, grabbing his forearm and shaking it.
Jaehyun chuckles, taking another bite of food, “you can tell him in more than one language too. Just say, fuck off.”
You lay your forehead against his shoulder, “you suck, baby.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And you’re stuck with me too so you better get over it soon,” Jaehyun waves off.
“Kkeojyeo.”
“Perfect pronunciation! You sound like a native speaker!” He replies excitedly.
You glare at him playfully, keeping your voice low and monotone, “just what I was going for…”
