omg if ur still taking hesitation reqs. maybe something early on in the relationship after they hookup where they're hanging out together and jw starts making out w reader and reader thinks its going to progress further into sex and is surprised when jw says "can we just kiss" and it infuriates her bc she's rarely done just that and its almost more intimate than sex to her . sorrydhahfhejc
AYO here you goooo. Another anon requested more detailed kissing scenes too, so hopefully this suffices!
As far as timeline goes, I feel like this is quite early relationship probably even before part 2.
This Jungwon for visual because someone on twitter said it’s the expression guys make before they’re about to kiss you and now I can’t unsee it
Enjoy!!!!
hesitation masterlist
Despite all the ways he manages to surprise you, regardless of the fact that Yang Jungwon has made a habit of catching you off guard and keeping you constantly on your toes, he also has a pattern.
One that goes a little like this:
First, he manages to convince his way into your apartment. Over the weeks, he’s gotten better at it. Or maybe you’ve just gotten worse at resisting. Either way, it’s starting to recur with alarming frequency.
Tonight, it was one of his favorite excuses that landed him next to you on your comfortable but slightly worn couch. There was a new movie out that he just had to show you. Something scary that’s apparently been taking everyone’s Twitter feed by storm.
His facade was flimsy from the beginning, mostly because you already know that he’s an absolute baby when it comes to horror films. The last time he used a similar excuse, the only parts of the movie he managed to watch were from behind his fingers.
Then again, the movie itself was never his end goal.
Jungwon’s patient when he wants to be, but he never lets the opening credits roll without sneaking his way a little closer to you. Thigh pressed against yours, arm slung across the back on the couch, fingers toying with the strap of your bra just under your shirt.
You can never decide if you should roll your eyes or press your legs together a little more firmly to stop yourself from squirming under his ministrations.
Then, he pretends to watch whatever plays out on the screen. Will even lean over and whisper little comments, something about filming locations or actor feuds or plot predictions you have half a mind to suspect he just looked up on Wikipedia before coming over.
With every new comment, he lets himself get a little closer. Until you feel his words more than you hear them.
Lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he tells you about broken box office records and controversial interviews.
You’re no better, of course. After he’s done with you, you could hardly give an accurate plot synopsis. And the way little shivers flutter down your spine every time he gets closer is a dead giveaway that you know exactly what his game is.
You do. You’d have to be an idiot not to, at this point. Even if a movie night wasn’t the oldest trick in the book, it’s landed Jungwon and you in a similar position more than half a dozen times by now.
You know what he’s doing. You’re letting it happen.
Pretending to protest when he lets his latest whispered fact about fake blood capsules turn into an actual kiss, pressed just below your earlobe.
“Jungwon,” you warn.
“What?” he pulls back, only barely. Eyes already heavy-lidded, the way he looks at you is dangerous.
He’s unabashed, shameless in the way he lets his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips before slowly dragging them back up.
It’s not subtle, but he’s been paying attention over the weeks, too. He knows he doesn’t have to be.
Still, he always hovers there for just a moment. Eyes locked on yours like he can feel the way your heart is hammering so hard you think it’s trying to escape your chest.
Like he loves the way your thighs start to fidget, a dead giveaway of exactly where your mind has gone.
Tonight, the screen behind you flashes with another jumpscare.
Neither of you notice. Neither of you care.
Jungwon lets his eyelids flutter shut before leaning in. Slowly, but deliberately. All the way until his lips press against yours.
It’s chaste at first. His arm falls from the back of the couch to curl around your shoulder, something possessive in his grip.
He kisses you, mouth closed, eyes screwed shut. Lets his mouth cover as much territory as it can, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth, the curve of your cheekbone, the junction of your jaw.
But he always comes back to your lips. And this time, it’s with renowned fervency.
Lips parting, he pulls your bottom lip between both of his. Lets his tongue start to wander. Lets his teeth start to tease.
The first time he’d kissed you, really kissed you, it took you longer than usual to find your rhythm.
It wasn’t a fault of his abilities. Just the fact that before Jungwon, you’d never known anyone that liked to make out so messy.
But he’s obsessed with it. Heavy, deep, open-mouthed kissing that leaves your lips sticky and swollen and covered in him.
Now, you’ve had time to adjust. To understand that a refined, even rhythm was never what he was going for.
Not when he wraps his hand around the curve of your cheekbone to angle you better.
When he pulls back slightly to press his thumb against the corner of your lips, watching with a heavy gaze as you bend to his silent request.
Slowly, you part your lips, let his thumb slide beteeen them. Eyes locked on his, you press your tongue against the intrusion, mouth closing around his thumb as he slides it deeper past your lips.
You can’t help it, the way your eyes screw shut for a moment before finding his gaze again. The way a sudden, desperate whine is pulled from somewhere deep in you, reverberating around his finger.
Eyes heavy, focus zeroed in on every micro expression you make, Jungwon pushes the pad of his thumb a bit more firmly against your tongue. And then releases a low, breathy groan when he feels you suck.
And then, like he can’t quite help himself, he leans back in. His doesn’t pull his thumb from your mouth, not entirely. Instead, he just slides it over, out of the way as his lips cover yours again, hungrier now. So heated, so desperate, it’s almost feverish.
He leaves his thumb there too, uses it as leverage to keep your mouth as open as he wants. To let his tongue find yours and encourage you to slide it further into his waiting mouth. Until he can return the favor by closing his lips around it, tugging gently before he sucks.
He releases it with a popping sound that reverberates around your living room, quiet except for the moan that gets half stuck in your throat and the low drawl of yet another forgotten movie.
Someone on the screen screams in terror. Jungwon bites at your bottom lip, tugging gently before replacing his teeth with his tongue.
There’s something about it for him, you’ve realized — seeing you like this. Messy, pliant, covered in the evidence of heavy, wet kisses that leave your lips spit-slick and swollen.
It eats at his control. Like the idea of you letting him touch you like this, cover you in him like this, does more to him than you can imagine.
It’s why most nights, Jungwon only manages to put you through a solid ten minutes of making out before his hands start to wander further.
Before his fingers start to dip beneath your waistband. Until you’re too lost to the sensation to kiss him back properly.
He never minds. He just keeps his mouth against yours. Open, still searching, still licking into you, while his fingers in your underwear make your jaw fall slack, swallowing all the pathetic little whimpers that escape from your throat.
But tonight, his hands stay in infuriatingly neutral places. Dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as his palms splay across your stomach. Teasing along your collarbone, your throat.
Wide against your cheek as he angles you to his liking. Tangled in your hair when he pulls — gently, but with no room for argument. Dipping back into the space between your parted lips when he decides he needs you more open to make a better mess of you.
Time is a flighty thing, but you can tell he’s been chasing your lips for longer than usual. That no matter how many times you adjust your position, tilt your hips in search of friction, his hands refuse to wander any lower.
It confuses you. For one, you can tell that he’s hard. Straining against his grey sweatpants in a way that would usually inspire more urgency than the lazy, deep, wet kisses he still presses into you.
Until now, you’ve always been a follower. Happy to let him set the pace and the tone when it comes to the bedroom.
But maybe tonight he’s waiting for you to be the bold one.
You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you squirm even more — the thought of him falling apart against you, mouth slack on yours with your hand wrapped around him.
So, a bit timidly but still undeterred, you let your palm start to slide forward. Tracing his upper thigh until it’s all the way—
Jungwon’s hand slides out of your hair, falls to meet yours. And stops it dead in its tracks.
A frown pulls at your face, furrow between your eyebrows appearing as he slides his tongue against yours again.
You try to pull back, but his mouth chases yours. It’s even messier, hotter, wetter now that you’ve thrown his aim off. Like he’s terrified of breaking contact and all the more desperate because of it.
Bringing your other hand to his chest, you press firmly against him. He takes the hint well enough. Finally, he stops for long enough to allow you to speak, but not before pressing a final, surprisingly chaste kiss against your reddened bottom lip.
Only scant inches between you, his eyes bore into yours.
He’s a mess, too. Wet, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, hair messy where it falls over his forehead. Eyes heavy and still narrowed in intent. So completely fucked out from nothing but kissing.
You have half a mind to just pull him back into you.
But the frown is still pulling at your brows.
“Jungwon,” you mumble, suddenly a bit unsure how to approach this.
“Mm,” he hums, pressing an errant kiss to the tip of your nose like he just can’t help himself.
“Why did you…” you trail off, eyes falling to wear your other hand still lies enclosed in his. Resting against his upper thigh, only inches from your original intent.
Even without saying it directly, he knows what you mean.
His hand around yours squeezes, reassuring like he can tell that the gears in your mind have started spinning.
“I just…” he starts voice low, hoarse. Scraped raw from his previous ministration. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze when he asks, “Can we just kiss?”
A flicker of surprise crosses your features, quickly replaced with a resigned sort of acceptance.
Maybe this is it, you suppose. The beginning of the end. He’s found some other girl to keep him entertained. Maybe she’s better at this than you.
Maybe this is just the beginning of his evening and he’ll make an excuse to leave an go see her soon.
You hate it, the deep twist of jealousy that wrings your gut out unpleasantly. It’s not fair, probably, but you decide that you hate her, whoever this other girl is.
Then again, maybe you should be relieved. This whole thing with Jungwon was never meant to be serious after all. Just a way to blow off some steam.
Maybe it’s better to let it fizzle early, naturally.
After all, you don’t think there’s much you wouldn’t agree to when he sits in your couch with his smile and dimples and easy sort of comfort. When he’s got his fingers in your mouth and his lips insistent against yours.
That kind of power, the thought of him having it over you, is terrifying.
So yeah, it’s probably best to just call things off. Before you run the risk of getting too attached. Before you start obsessing over ridiculous things like the idea of him whining against your mouth, jaw slack as you work your hand against him under the waistband of his sweatpants.
You nod, about to pull away, when Jungwon’s hand wraps around the back of your neck. He lowers his lips again, until they’re brushing against yours.
All of a sudden, your heart is hammering, drilling against your rib cage.
“Had the shittiest day,” he mumbles, pulling your lip between his lazily. “Everyone was so annoying.” His tongue is back in the mix now, traces the seam of your lips. “All I could think about was this. Getting my mouth on you.”
“But you…” You frown. You still don’t get it. He’s not leaving for round two with someone else? “You’re hard,” you point out.
“Yeah,” Jungwon’s laugh is more exhale than sound. “I’ve been stressed as hell all day and now I’ve got my mouth on the prettiest girl in the world.” He smiles then, a little dopey as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Of course I’m hard.”
“But you don’t…” You’re still so confused. And now, another feeling is starting to seep in. Fear. Something about it, the idea of him coming over here with nothing but the intent to make out like teenagers, is so horribly intimate you want to die a little. “You don’t want me to do anything about it?”
“Not tonight,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to ask me again in the morning, though.” His smirk is short-lived, melting quickly into a smile so genuine you’re not sure what to do with it.
The morning.
The morning.
He’s not running off to some other girl. He’s not tired of you and trying to craft an early exit. He’s sleeping over, and you’re not even having sex.
You have no idea what to do with that.
As if he can see the gears in your head spinning on full speed, Jungwon decides the best way to ease your worries is to distract you.
Or rather, to pull you back to him until your mind and your mouth and your senses are too full of him to leave room for anything else.
For now, at least, it works. You let your words and your worries and your questions die on your lips as he replaces them with his own.
You let him make a mess of you for long minutes, reveling in the tension that builds, the heat that generates slowly, more steadily than usual.
It’s frustrating in the most delicious way. The thrill of denying the unmistakable ache building deep in both of you.
The undeniable intimacy of choosing this instead. Of letting breaths mingle, lips explore, swallowing sighs, knowing it’s not going any further.
Of knowing that for tonight, this fulfills whatever need he came to you with. That he’s staying. That you’ll have the morning to see what desires you’re ready to explore then.
Jungwon is still hard in his sweatpants, and youre still chasing friction you can’t quite find. But it disrupts the illusion of urgency. It makes kissing, making out for hours in your couch like teenagers, feel like a luxury instead of a punishment.
The fear is still there, even if he’s good at burying it.
Because Jungwon has a pattern, but tonight he strayed from it. Found another way to lower your defenses. To catch you entirely off guard.
Someone that can do that so easily is dangerous. Will probably have terrible consequences for you and your poor little heart.
But for now, you just close your eyes, letting him make a mess of your lips and your hair and your heart.
You can deal with the consequences in the morning, you figure. Can let the doubt he eases with gentle touches redouble.
Yeah, you decide, sinking a little further into his touch, ignoring the surge of warmth that flares from the pit of your stomach when he sighs into your mouth. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
i’m so excited for all that glitters!! i’ve been yearning for a jay fic from you because you’re genuinely one of the best enha writers ive come across on here and i already reread part 1 so many times omg.
Thank you so much!!!! It was high time I wrote a Jay fic
Hello, I think you can tell through the fact that I'm lurking in your notifications that I'm obsessed with Hesitation. I'd really love it if you could elaborate on what was the inspiration for the storyline. What inspired the story? What inspired JW and the MC's personality? What the writing process looks like here? How are you SO good at writing? Seriously, what DO you read to write like that? I need to pick your brain please. I'm a big fan truly x
Me rn 🥹🥹🥹🥹
Hesitation really did start out as a fever dream and it’s definitely the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written. For the first part, I really did just have this idea of the reader coming back to her car after a long day and Jungwon being there waiting for her. I write a lot of my shorter stories that way - it’s just a concept and a vibe and then I see where the dialogue takes it.
I pretty much never write myself into characters but a lot of hesitation oc…… yeah that’s me 😭 Mostly just the avoidance and stubbornness and need to always feel like shes in control of the situation and coming out on top. With that in mind, Jungwon’s personality kind of developed as what would be most interesting to read parallel to that.
I also REAAAAALLLLY like subversion in characters. Like when they don’t behave how you expect them to/how the trope says they should. He’s younger but he’s the assertive, direct, bold one. She’s older, but she’s the avoidant one in extreme denial.
Thank you again 🥹🤍 it means a lot to know that you’ve enjoyed the story enough to send such a sweet ask.
Hey so I just got done reading Hesitation part 2, I don't know if you go over it in the third part but how does the main character manage to catch JW's eyes? Like how do they meet? Through mutual friends or is it a activity club or volunteering or do they live in the same building? And what is it about her specifically?
Also, I have to say: compliments to you. You have done a marvellous job with Hesitation. I've heard so much about your fic and I've been trying to read it for this past week but unfortunately, because of being busy myself, I haven't been able to really concentrate. Today, I finally was able to sit and read through the first part and I zoomed through it! I finished both parts so quickly. Truly, you're a fantastic writer. Absoluetly fabulous. I am at awe of your writing style, the first thing it reminded me of was Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellor. I wanted to ask you how long have you been writing for? What are the writers you like?
Omg 🥹🥹 thank you so much this is so sweet!!! I’m glad you’re enjoying hesitation, and it means so much to know that you like my style of writing. We haven’t covered their meeting yet, but I’ll keep it in mind for future parts!
As for me, I always really loved writing throughout all of school, especially poetry and creative fiction. I wrote my first ever fanfic when I was 16 and haven’t stopped since, although there have been plenty of extended breaks and fandom switches lol. I’m afraid I haven’t been reading nearly as much as a should these days 😭😭 I was a really avid reader growing up but since I started working full time it’s definitely fallen to the wayside.
A more recent favorite of mine is R.F. Kuang and especially her Poppy War Trilogy. One of my favorite series for sure!
this is so random lolz but saw ur recent post abt hesitation canon vs non canon and comparing it to a tree so i was like r u in cs 😭😭 (coming from a cs stufenth
Omg is that a cs term?? I’m not I’m afraid I’m kinda hopeless when it comes to computer science
Hello! Just as an addition to separating requests from the original parts as a “branch” of the hesitation storyline, would it be possible to specify like when a request is taking place chronologically? I really liked that we were able to see where it adds to the story in your first request, but when reading the second request I felt a little lost - or are all requests meant to be approx between parts two and three until you (if you) continue the story with parts four and onwards?
I can try!!! For the requests I don’t always have a clear timeline as much as I have a ~vibe~
also re: hesitstion I’m making the executive decision to link requests separately from the three original parts because the requests are fun and I want to write them but I also feel like they might pull the story in different directions so if we compare it to a tree the three original parts can stand as the trunk and the requests can be branches if that makes literally any sense at all
HIIII omg i love love love hesitation i remember reading part one some time ago and i rediscovered ur blog this week and saw that you'd added THREE MORE PARTS OMG made my DAY. may i suggest reader going out and getting drunk after a long week and turning up at jungwons place and being unusually vulnerable and soft!!!
I love this omg your guys’ requests are so good!! Here you goooooo
pairing: younger jungwon x older reader
word count: 3.7k
warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of intimacy (but nothing smutty), reader is soooo vulnerable good thing Jungwon is always happy to reassure her :’)
note: Thank you to everyone that sent requests! You guys have great ideas and I’m having lots of fun working through them. I wrote this part on my phone and I’m posting it from there too so hopefully the formatting is okay! Enjoyyyy <3
hesitation masterlist
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
When Jungwon hears a quiet knock on his bedroom door, the first thing he does is reach for his phone. It’s face-down on his desk because he really was trying to get some homework done, but the numbers across the top already threaten his dangerously skewed sleep schedule with a bold 12:53.
Almost one in the morning on a Thursday night, which confirms his suspicions and makes the knock on his door even stranger.
Still, he slides up from his slightly squeaky desk chair and closes the three step distance from his seat to the door.
Opening it slowly, he finds Sunoo on the other side, expression carefully controlled. He’s not angry — Sunoo doesn’t really tend to get mad like that — but there’s a bit of a warning in his eyes.
They’ve been living together for the past three semesters, and Jungwon’s pretty sure he struck roommate gold. Sunoo is easy to get along with as long as the dishes in the sink don’t pile too high. He respects Jungwon’s labeled items in the fridge and is always more than friendly when the two of them cross paths.
Jungwon had been apprehensive about staying on campus for another year, but upperclassmen were allowed access to the renovated dorms that had been made to function more like mini apartments. He lives with Sunoo, yes, but the two of them get their own bedrooms while sharing a small kitchen and an even smaller living area.The sofa barely squeezed into it, but it works. It’s not luxury, but it works.
With his bedroom door open now, Jungwon can just make out the top corner of said sofa, can see the outline of the slight tear in the worn fabric, over Sunoo’s shoulder.
“What’s up?” he asks, trying to rub some of the lingering sleepiness out of his eyes.
“Someone’s here for you,” Sunoo nods back towards the main door on the other side of the couch. Jungwon notices then that it isn’t latched all the way. It isn’t really open though, either. Not enough for him to see who’s on the other side.
His first thought is that it’s Jake. It wouldn’t be the first time his friend spent his Thursday getting inebriated to the point of not being able to tell his dorm apart from Jungwon’s, after all.
So Jungwon just sighs, offers Sunoo an apologetic glance and a resigned, “Sorry.”
Sunoo shakes his head, apology not needed. He steps to the side to let Jungwon pass, but he doesn’t retreat back to his own bedroom. Instead, he just turns around, eyes following. Like he wants to see this for some reason.
Oh brother, Jungwon thinks, just how fucking drunk did Jake get?
It’s enough to annoy him a bit. His ideal Thursday night involves a lot more sleep and a lot less babysitting, after all.
Jaw tight, Jungwon wraps his fingers around the handle with a little more force than necessary.
“You should have just gone to Sunghoon’s if you couldn’t get home,” he’s already admonishing even though he hasn’t seen his friend yet. “He’s the one that lives in the same apartment building as you instead of halfway across the fucking cit—“
Opening the door fully, Jungwon’s words die on his lips.
Because the person on the other side of it is not an overly drunk Jake.
It’s you.
Hair spilling around your bare shoulders in an outfit that Jungwon is sure probably made sense at whatever bar he suspects you came from, he reaches for your wrist and pulls you across the doorstep into his dorm so fast it’s almost comical.
After all, he knows the other guys that live on this floor. They’re fine, all things considered. But the thought of their eyes lingering while you’re dressed like that is enough to have his pulse spiking rather sharply.
You stumble along without resistance, happy to be pulled, giggling as you teeter slightly before Jungwon steadies you again.
“I…” he trails off, taking you in fully. His eyes linger on your heated cheeks, the lip gloss that’s begun to smudge, the mascara that’s migrated to the space beneath your eyes.
He doesn’t dare look any lower.
Instead, he holds out his hands like you’re a wild animal he’s trying to tame. “Stay here,” he urges, hoping whatever’s left of your functioning brain can process his request accurately. “I’ll be right back.”
And then Jungwon makes a beeline for his bedroom, nearly bumping straight into Sunoo who still lingers just outside of it.
“I’m gonna…” his roommate trails off, taking a glance over Jungwon’s shoulder at you. And the way you’re now very happily examining a pair of Jungwon’s shoes he left by the front door. “Go somewhere else,” he finishes.
Jungwon sighs, shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sorry. I had no idea she was coming here—”
“It’s okay,” Sunoo insists. “I was already planning to skip my morning class anyway.” He takes another careful look at you, at the panic apparent in Jungwon’s gaze. “I know you know the drill already, but just make sure she gets some water before she sleeps. There’s advil in the bathroom cabinet if you’re running low. Oh,” he adds, another thought crossing his mind, “and you can tell her it’s okay to use my shampoo if she wants.”
It’s so nice. Way more considerate than he has to be. Jungwon feels awful. He shakes his head, “She can just use mine.”
Sunoo winces. “No offense, Jungwon, but no girl wants to use your shampoo.”
“What?” Jungwon blinks. He’s pretty sure you’ve used it before, actually, and you never said anything. “Why?”
Sunoo sighs. “Because you buy it from the bargain bin at Walmart.” When Jungwon gives him a look, he’s quick to add, “Which is fine! I’m sure it saves you money, and your hair is great and all, but…” he glances at you again, “no girl wants to use that.”
Jungwon doesn’t mean to let his voice get defensive, but he doesn’t like the way Sunoo’s talking about you like he knows you. Like he understands you better than him. It’s ridiculous and illogical and entirely unfounded, but you just stumbled into his apartment drunk, and Jungwon’s brain is more than a little scattered from it. There’s an edge there that he doesn’t really mean when he asks, “What’s so great about your shampoo anyway?”
Sunoo doesn’t stutter. “It’s sulfate-free, salon quality, and smells amazing.” He adds, “Just tell her she can use it, if she wants. When she’s sober enough to understand you.”
Jungwon still doesn’t entirely get it, but he has more pressing matters at hand. Deciding to just let it rest for now, he mumbled a halfhearted, “Thanks,” and hopes that’s the end of it. Luckily, Sunoo doesn’t seem to have anything else to add. He nods once, and then retreats back to his bedroom after throwing you one more cautious look.
Remembering his original mission, Jungwon follows suit. He takes another glance at you, and finds you still examining the pair of sneakers he’d bought a few weeks ago after wearing down to the soles of his last ones. He’s not sure what about them you find so fascinating, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find the whole thing incredibly endearing.
Reluctant to let you out of sight for even a moment, he steps into his bedroom as quickly as he can. He reaches into his closet and pulls out the first shirt he can find, speed more important than selection. The t-shirt his fingers land on is a bit worn, but it’s clean. Dark, old, with a logo that’s starting to fade, but he figures it will probably be more comfortable than the contraption of a top you’ve got on now.
Then, as quick as he can, Jungwon allows himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He leans forward, lets his forehead fall against his bedroom wall with a muted thud. He keeps his groan low, quiet enough to avoid detection.
He thinks of you, showing up to his dorm unannounced. Drunk. Wearing something that would make his mind spin even under normal circumstances. Giggling.
And then he prays to whatever god might be listening that he’ll survive the night.
By the time he makes it back to you, Sunoo has already made himself scarce.
Coming to stand as close to you as he dares, Jungwon watches as you stop your examination of his shoes and turn your gaze to him instead.
Pupils blown, eyes glassy and unfocused. Yeah, you’re wasted.
“Here,” he extends the hand fisted around his old T-shirt. He can’t quite make eye contact. “So you don’t… get cold.”
You giggle at that, like he’s telling a joke. Jungwon isn’t sure what’s so funny, but he knows that the sound hits him somewhere deep.
He waits for you to pull the shirt over your head, but you seem to have a different idea.
Jungwon watches, a bit helplessly, as you proceed to plop yourself down onto the ground, now sitting at his feet. Grinning up at him with a wide, sleepy smile like you have no idea how much you’re killing him, you reach both arms above your head.
“Help me?” you request.
When you’re sober, maybe you’ll be able to appreciate a little more just how nice it truly is to be on the receiving end of such unfailing, unconditional patience.
For now, all you know is that you like the way he squats down until he’s a little closer to eye level. The way it feels when Jungwon’s arms come down around you, helping slide the shirt into place over your body. It smells like him, that mix of freshly done laundry and something distinctly Jungwon.
Across from you, Jungwon is a bit incredulous.
“Did you just smell my shirt?”
You giggle in favor of a response.
He sighs, and then asks, “Where were you tonight?”
“With my friends,” you shrug.
“And they brought you here?” He’d be surprised. He’s pretty sure you still haven’t told anyone about him. Ignoring the way that particular tidbit makes him feel, he forces himself to pay attention to your answer.
“Nope,” you shake your head, exaggerating the sound at the end of the word. “Karina put me in an Uber home.”
Jungwon’s brow furrows. “How did you get here?”
“Told the driver I’d give him twenty bucks to change the address.” You giggle again, like you’re finding this all absolutely hilarious.
Jungwon’s eyes widen. “___,” he urges, entirely too serious for your liking. “That’s not safe. You can’t just—“
“I wanted to see you,” you interrupt, words slurring together. Jungwon’s admonishment dies in his lips. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
Suddenly, all his panic, all his urgency, softens into something far gentler. It does something to him — the thought of your mind, muddled, confused, unable to make rational decisions, cutting through the confusion and landing on him.
Jungwon sighs, moving to stand back as he makes a plan for getting you from the floor of his entryway into his bed.
For now, he’ll just be glad that you got here safe. He’ll rest easy knowing that he can take care of you tonight. Reprimands for your lack of caution can wait until the morning.
Right now, he’ll focus on getting a decent amount of water and Advil into you first. You need to sleep.
But before he can stand fully, he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, fingers warm against his skin.
He looks at you, a question written across his face.
You don’t bother clearing his confusion. Instead, you lean forward, so far he’s afraid you’ll lose your balance again and fall face-first right on top of him.
You don’t. By some stroke of gravitational forgiveness, you manage to stay mostly steady. All the way until you get far enough to press a gentle, messy kiss right to the tip of his nose.
It’s a chaste thing, closed mouth until your lips part in yet another fit of giggles.
Pulling back only barely, your gaze bores into his, eyes wide with amusement.
“Sorry,” you grin. “Your nose is so cute.”
Of all the compliments you could have given him, Jungwon isn’t sure what to do with this one.
“What?” is all he says. But his confusion only makes his nose scrunch further.
“See,” your eyes widen. This time, it’s your finger that presses against the skin of his nose. “So cute.” You're rambling now, hardly coherent and entirely too enthusiastic. “And you smell so good and you’re so nice to me.” You pause for a moment, frowning as your demeanor starts to shift. As the sunshine in your gaze turns cloudy. You’re quieter when you add, “Even when I’m not very nice to you.”
Jungwon watches as your features start to crumple. Panics a bit when he swears he sees the beginning of tears gathering in your mascara-smudged lash line.
“Hey,” he coos softly. The sudden one-eighty catches him off guard, but he won’t let you spiral into sadness. His hands come to your skin, spread across your jaw as he cradles your face gently. “Hey, you’re okay. Look at me, Noona.” It slips out by accident, almost. But the sudden surge of affection he feels for you is too strong to have him in full control of his words. “What’s wrong?”
When you do look at him, your eyes are glassy.
“‘M sorry,” you mumble, even as you lean into the warmth of his palm. “You’re so good, and I’m so…”
“What?” Jungwon asks gently, thumb brushing soft strokes over your cheekbone now. He’s desperate to get you smiling again. Hear those silly, drunken giggles that are so much better than this. “Pretty?” he suggests. He can see the gears turning in your head, the silent self-deprecation. It’s killing him. “Smart?”
A single tear falls over your lash line. He catches it with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m your noona,” you whisper. “I should be nice to you,” you mumble, a little pathetically. Even your tiny, drunken hiccup is filled with sorrow. “I should be taking care of you.”
“Hey,” Jungwon tries again. He abandons his earlier mission to stand and joins you on the floor instead, sitting down fully. With his new position, he can pull you closer to him, all the way until you’re in his lap, legs wrapped around him as you look down at where your hands fiddle in your lap.
Jungwon puts his hands back on the overly heated skin of your face, brings your gaze gently back to his.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, eyes impossibly sad as you look at him. Slowly, you explain, “It’s all because of the secret.”
“The secret?” Jungwon echoes, brows creasing.
You nod.
He brushes a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, gaze searching, serious. “What secret, baby?”
“I can’t tell you,” you shake your head. Your voice is quiet, almost breaks when you tell him, “You won’t like me anymore.”
Jungwon’s heart lurches painfully in his chest. “What are you talking about?” His thumb comes to the center of your brows now, gently smooths away the crease that’s started to form there. It’s a simple truth, as obvious to him as breathing when he says, “Of course I’ll still like you.”
You lean in close again, all the way until your lips are ghosting along the shell of his ear. He lets his hands fall from your face, coming to rest on your hips instead. Through the fabric of his borrowed shirt, he starts to rub small, comforting circles.
Against his ear, he feels your lips part. The sensation sends an involuntary shudder down his spine.
And then, with a whisper that’s barely a breath, you admit, “I like you.”
Jungwon’s hands go still.
He waits, hardly daring to breathe.
It only takes a second for you to continue, breath warm on his skin. “I like you so much, and I’m really scared.” Still pressed to his chest, your fingers fist against the fabric of his shirt. “Because when you like people too much, they don’t like you anymore. But I want you to like me.” He hears the way your breath hitches when you admit, “I don’t want you to leave.”
Your admission sends his heart sinking into his stomach, a sudden heaviness tugging at him. An ache he’s desperate to remedy.
Jungwon turns then, all the way until his head is buried in your neck, lips against the junction between your throat and your collarbone. He presses a kiss there. One, two, three warm reminders of his affection scattered on your skin.
Then, he lifts his head, eyes meeting your glassy, wide-eyed gaze again. “I’m not going to leave,” he shakes his head. He’s desperate, too. He wants, more than anything, for you to believe him. For you to understand. “You liking me is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
Your eyes widen as he repeats your words back to you. “You can’t tell anyone,” you remind him, an edge of panic in your tone. Your hands come up, press against his mouth like you want to keep any more words from spilling out. “It’s a secret.”
“Okay,” he whispers, voice muffled against your fingers. He presses a quiet kiss to them before he brings his hands to yours, prying them gently away from his mouth.
Then, he threads his fingers through your hair, tilting you down until he can press another soft kiss to your forehead. “I promise.” His lips move lower, come to rest against your cheekbone as he leaves a kiss there, too. “Your secret,” a kiss to your nose, “is safe with me.”
He presses his last kiss against the corner of your lips. He can taste the remnants of your night out, the faint vanilla flavor of your smudged lip gloss. Something so unbearably sweet and entirely, uniquely you.
He wonders, as he finally guides the two of you to stand, manages to get some water into you with his hands gentle on your neck, helping you tilt your head back, how you could ever even question it.
His affection runs so deep, his fondness so thorough that he can’t imagine how the intensity of it hasn’t managed to reach you fully.
But it does answer some of his questions, confirms some of his suspicions.
You’re not indifferent or unaffected or uninterested. You’re fucking terrified.
The ache from that runs even deeper.
Jungwon is always gentle with you, but his touch is extra soft tonight as he helps you swallow a painkiller, helps you wipe the remnants of makeup from your face.
Your eyes find his in the bathroom mirror, and he wraps his arms around you, chest flush to your back as he presses yet another slew of reassuring kisses into the warmth of your cheek.
He’s just as careful helping you take off your borrowed shirt as he was putting it on, treats the rest of your clothes with just as much care, even if the straps on your top confuse him a bit.
With every inch of revealed skin comes another reminder of his affection as he presses quiet, reverent kisses against your shoulder, your hip, the notches of your spine.
There’s nothing rushed about the way he waits until the water is the perfect temperature before helping you into his shower. Nothing hurried about the way he lets you lean back against him while he lathers Sunoo’s fancy shampoo into your hair.
When he’s done, he wraps you into the fluffiest towel he can find in the bathroom cabinet. Then, he interlaces your fingers with his and leads you to his bedroom.
The light is low and suddenly, you’re yawning. He helps you pull another clean shirt over your head, watches the way it falls to the tops of your thighs with nothing on his mind but a renowned sense of determination.
He realizes it then, that it isn’t him. He’s not doing anything wrong. Your resistance to his constant reassurance, your hesitation even with all the love he lays at your feet, isn’t something he can fix for you. No matter how much he wants to.
He isn’t sure exactly where it comes from, maybe a past lover that left you broken or a deep-seated insecurity that stems from something you haven’t revealed to him yet, but Jungwon knows that his feelings are a steady thing.
So he lets you choose your side of his bed, makes sure your head rests on the softer of his two pillows. He climbs in after you, hand still clinging to his like you’re not ready to let go.
He doesn’t mind. You can have it as long as you want — his hand, his heart, his love.
Instead, he uses it to pull you closer to him, until his chest curves against the length of your spine, his breath fanning through your hair that scatters over his pillow.
The room around the two of you is quiet until you whisper, “Jungwon?”
He doesn’t think he’s imagining it, the way you sound slightly more coherent. It’s exhaustion that pulls your words into a slow drawl now, not alcohol.
“Mm,” he hums, the vibration settling against your neck.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “For coming here like this. I know you probably—”
“Uh-uh,” he interrupts, shaking his head as he presses a quiet kiss to the back of your neck. “You don’t know. I’m glad you had fun with your friends. And it’s even better that you came here after. That you trusted me to take care of you.” His hand squeezes yours, voice sleepy but still achingly honest when he adds, “I hope you do it again.”
You’re silent for a moment as his words settle around you.
And then, so quiet he nearly misses it—
“Really?”
He doesn’t hesitate for even a second. “Really.” He presses one last kiss against you, this time to the place just beneath your ear. “Sleep,” he whispers, letting his own tired eyelids finally flutter shut. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And he will. As many times as you’ll allow him, for as long as you want him. He knows it, and he’ll be patient enough to remind you as often as you need until you know it too.
hiiiiii can we have y/n initiating skinship or being more affectionate towards jungwon in hesitation🥹🥹🥹
Yes as a matter of fact you CAN 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️ here you goooooo
pairing: younger jungwon x older reader
warnings: swearing, reader is jealous as HELLLLLLL, mentions of sex, small age gap (reader is 3 years older than jungwon)
word count: 3k
note: Another little addition to the hesitation-verse! These drabbles aren't necessarily chronological, but I'd say I envision this happening after part one but before part three. Enjoyyyyyyy
hesitation masterlist
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
Looking down at the notebook in your hands, you release a long sigh.
The cover is blue, although it’s a bit faded now. It’s from a combination of things — too much time in a backpack, accidental folding, a spilled water bottle during a late night library session that left a permanently discolored splotch in the bottom left corner.
Luckily, Jungwon chose to write his name and personal details at the top of the inside cover. His handwriting, dark, even, and surprisingly neat, is just as legible as the day he wrote it.
Before you realize it, a smile is spreading on your lips. You bite at the inner corner of your bottom lip.
It’s so him.
Just like it was so him to panic after getting out of bed late this morning and rushing off to campus while his faded blue biology lab notebook was left to gather dust on the carpet just beneath your bedside table.
It’s become more of a common occurrence these days — him sleeping over at your apartment. You tell yourself it’s only for convenience, that dick appointments are easier to schedule when you don’t have to factor in a commute.
Last night, however, just like most nights these days, the sex had felt almost secondary.
When Jungwon came over, it was with a sleepy smile and pure intentions. He kept you company while you let the soup simmer on your stovetop.
His hands were on your hips and his laughter was in your ear while you told him about some ridiculous thing that had happened in your morning class with the smell of garlic filling your tiny kitchen.
He sat next to you on the sofa, thighs pressed together while you ate, an old rerun of the sitcom you accidentally discovered both of you loved played in the background.
He washed the dishes afterwards. Meticulously, with the right side of the sponge and the appropriate soap-to-water ratio, because apparently Jungwon still wasn’t running low on ways to surprise you.
And then, when everything had been tended to and the dishes had been put away, he still didn’t instigate anything. Instead, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a half-finished lab report with a full-fledged groan and sat himself up at your bedroom desk like he belonged there. Like the boundaries between your space and his were getting blurrier by the minute. Like his place in your apartment and in your life was a given, not a rarity.
That scared you.
Because if he wasn’t here to fool around, the narrative you were working tirelessly to maintain started to lose a whole lot of traction. And that was something you couldn't let happen.
For you, this relationship could only ever be a mutual exchange built on a few basic truths.
First, you told yourself Jungwon just had a thing for older girls. It wasn’t you specifically – you just fit the criteria and happened to be resistant enough to his advances to keep the chase entertaining.
Two, he would never have actual feelings for you. It was just unrealistic. You might have held out long enough, but you weren’t blind. Jungwon is… well he’s beautiful. In the kind of way that makes it hard to stop looking once you start. Especially since every glance tends to reveal something new worth noticing.
You, on the other hand, were starting to feel all sorts of shriveled. A bit of a ridiculous concept at the age of twenty-four, but you had the feeling that a guy like him would always be looking for the next shiny thing. He’d get sick of you, you were sure of it. It didn't matter if it took a week or a month or three whole years. It was just inevitable. A matter of when, not if.
Last, you knew you had to keep your guard up and your vigilance strong when it came to Jungwon. Because you knew, even if you refused to admit it to yourself, that if you let your shield slip for just a fraction of a second too long, you’d be in real danger of falling in too deep.
After all, your boundaries and your barriers and all your hesitation didn’t come from nowhere. It was a defense mechanism, a way to keep you safe from your terrible tendency to fall fast and fall hard without bothering to check for a safety net first. And ultimately, you knew it would be you who was left alone to pick up the pieces.
You refused to let it happen.
Your life is finally starting to fall into place, guided by your incessant planning and ridiculous type-A tendencies.
You’ll graduate next spring with decent connections and a good degree. You’ve worked your ass off to keep up your GPA without drowning in too much debt. You’re careful. You’re precise. You’re smart.
And you absolutely refuse to let some undergrad, no matter how much his eyes sparkle when he looks at you, no matter how nice it feels when he wraps your hand in his, no matter how much he swears he’s not who you think he is, ruin that for you.
You’re an adult. You’re a woman. You have shit to do. And you refuse to let any potential heartbreak get in the way of that, no matter how nicely Jungwon wraps it all up for you.
So, fine, if he wanted to spend his evening studying at your desk and using your color coded sticky notes to finalize his lab report, it was no skin off your back.
You weren’t going to let him shake you, even if he wasn’t sticking to the script you built in your head. Instead, you’d wash your makeup off and change into your least sexy pair of pajamas before crawling into bed.
If you pressed a quiet, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth and told him softly to not work too hard, well, that could be a secret between you and your bedside lamp.
It didn’t have to mean anything.
And if hours later, you felt the bed dip slightly as he crawled in next to you, report finally finished for the night, it was just him being economical, you reasoned. An Uber this late would be ridiculously expensive, after all.
You adjusting your body, moving backwards in search of his warmth was just a measure of practicality, a standard reaction to having someone else in your bed.
Him pulling you flush to his chest, intertwining your fingers before finally letting his breath even out against the base of your neck didn’t have to be as terribly intimate as it felt. It didn’t have to mean anything.
As long as you didn’t look at it too hard, examine it too closely, it didn’t pose any threat to you or your dangerously malleable feelings.
And if the only reason he was so late getting out of bed this morning was because he’d recently discovered soft, warm, impossibly slow morning sex before either of you were fully coherent was one of his favorite ways to unravel you, well, it didn’t have to wreak havoc on you or your poor little heart.
Looking down at your hands now, it’s easy enough to pretend. A notebook is just a notebook. Stains are just stains.
His handwriting is nothing special to you, and the only reason you dragged yourself to campus so early even though you only have afternoon classes today is because you wanted to get some extra studying done.
Not because you know that the lab report he spent so long on is due today. Not because you’re imagining him realizing that he left his notebook behind. Not because you can see in vivid detail the way he’ll start to panic, dark eyes widening, shoulders tensing as he digs frantically though his belongings one more time, praying it will appear.
Besides, it’s not like the science building is that far from the library. You were thinking you needed more twenty-minute walks in your life anyway. You swear you’d seen an article in your feed the other day about all the benefits from spending more time outdoors.
So really, you were doing it for you. Not him.
Frowning, you check your phone again once you reach the biology building. You’d sent him a message nearly ten minutes ago, telling him to meet you outside.
He hasn’t responded. Hasn’t even read it. You can tell, because he keeps his read receipts on. Apparently his incessant bluntness extends to the digital world as well.
Shifting your weight between your feet, you have a decision to make. One you really, really don’t want to. Because for some reason, going into the building and delivering the notebook to him directly feels a little bit like admitting defeat. Like sticking a flashing neon sign to your forehead that says I LIKE YANG JUNGWON.
Which you can’t bring yourself to do. Because you don’t.
But then again, isn’t it more pathetic to turn around now after coming all the way here? It’s not like you’re scared of seeing him. You’re just being nice after all, just helping out someone prone to forgetfulness. It won’t change anything. It doesn’t mean anything.
So, after nearly stumbling face first into a frantic looking undergrad who rushes into the building just in front of you, you take a moment to steady yourself, fix your hair back into place with your fingers. And then you mark a steady path to the biology lab.
Pushing the door open slowly, you do your best to keep your shoulders back. You don’t have to hide. You’re not doing anything wrong. And you’re certainly not scared of a bunch of undergrads.
Scanning the room, it only takes you a moment to find him in the crowd. Jungwon’s hair is loose across his forehead, a pair of glasses you’ve seen only occasionally resting on the bridge of his nose. There’s something endearing about it, something impossibly sweet, and you have to remind your heart that fluttering will only make things worse.
Sat around halfway back from the front, you watch as he lives up to your prediction exactly. His backpack is open on his desk as he separates the top as far as fabric will allow, sliding his hands between every other textbook and paper, hoping that the blue notebook currently gripped between your hands will materialize.
He’s too far away for you to feel comfortable calling his name, so you step forward, walking towards him instead. The other students hardly spare you a second glance, too buried in their own work to notice an unfamiliar face.
You’ve nearly reached him when a head of long, sleek, ridiculously shiny dark hair stops you in your tracks.
Jennie. Or maybe it’s Jennifer. You can never remember for sure.
It’s not like you keep a running tab of undergrads but Jungwon had been right that day by your car. You’d recognize her anywhere.
Just like you recognize the move she’s pulling when she reaches across the desk to put a hand on Jungwon’s arm.
The same arm that was wrapped around you when you woke up this morning. Warm against your ribs in the soft glow of sunrise.
It takes Jungwon less than a millisecond to realize what she’s doing, less than a breath to shake off her grip and reestablish space.
You can see the way his eyes flash with warning. Already irritated from a lack of sleep and the absence of his lab report, he has more than enough ire to get the message across loud and clear.
Jennifer drops her arm fast enough. But it doesn’t matter. All of a sudden, Jungwon’s notebook is the last thing in your mind. And all you can think is –
Hell. Fucking. No.
Closing the distance between you with more speed than strictly necessary, you greet Jungwon with a hand on his shoulder and a kiss on the cheek.
The expression he turns to you with is pure, unadulterated shock. And rightfully so. You’ve never once done either of those things before.
But when the initial surprise starts to subside, when his brain finally catches up to his eyes and he realizes that it’s you, his surprise softens into something far fonder.
“Hi,” you tell him, a little breathless.
“Hi,” he returns, just as soft. The fondness is his eyes is still there, but Jungwon’s perceptive when he wants to be. He can still see Jennifer in his periphery, can see the way she crosses her arms. A spark of amusement crosses his gaze, his eyebrow arching slightly. “What are you doing here?”
“Here,” you hold out his notebook, setting it on the desk in front of him as an explanation. A welcome gift. For Jennifer’s sake more than his, you add, “You left it at my place last night.”
A flicker of relief passes over his features. But now, Jungwon’s attention is occupied by something other than his missing lab report.
“Oh,” Jennifer says, either more dense than you thought or just outright refusing to take the hint. And apparently she also has a death wish, because half a heartbeat later, she says, with an entirely false air of innocence, “I didn’t know you had a tutor. If you needed help, you should have just asked me.”
Jungwon is more than capable of handling her. He’s done it more than once at this point. He doesn’t like to waste people’s time. If he knows he’s not interested, he thinks it’s only fair that the other person does too.
But his eyes aren’t on Jennifer right now. They’re on you.
He watches as a slow, sickeningly sweet smile crosses your lips and just sits back a little further into his chair. Yeah, this time, he thinks he’d prefer to just watch.
“Mm,” you hum, smile plastered so hard you’ll have to pry it off later. “I’m actually a little hopeless at — what was this class again? Oh, that’s right —” you force an airy laugh, “biology.” Eyes back on Jungwon, your words are heavy with insinuation when you apologize, “I’m sorry I was probably more distracting than helpful.”
Your hand is still on his shoulder, and Jungwon’s eyes are still on you.
The icier your smile gets, the more his gaze darkens, eyes drifting low before making their way back up to your face.
He can see it across your carefully constrained mask, the way your fingers are digging into his shoulder just a little too hard.
It’s obvious. It’s invigorating. It’s his favorite new discovery.
You’re so fucking jealous. Jungwon has never been more happy to sit in his biology lab in his life.
Above him, oblivious to his reactions, you’re still fighting a battle traded in thinly veiled pleasantries. Your gut twists in a vindictive sort of pleasure as you watch Jennifer’s features fall slightly at your obvious insinuation.
Maybe she doesn’t deserve it — you don’t really know her. Maybe she’s actually a sweet girl and means well and is just awful at picking up context clues.
Maybe it’s terrible that you don’t really care at all what her intentions are. All you know is that you suddenly have the fervent need for her to be well aware that Jungwon is out of reach. For there to be no doubt left in her mind that no matter how much you refuse to define your relationship, you’re a lot more than his fucking tutor.
So, well aware that she’s still watching, you put your eyes back on the boy beneath you, sliding a hand just beneath Jungwon’s chin.
He’s pliant beneath your touch, eyes alight as he leans into your palm. Gently, you tilt his face upward, reveling in the way his breath comes up a little short.
His eyes are locked in yours, lips parted as you release your other hand from his shoulder and bring it to his forehead instead, smoothing his hair back away from his face.
He leans into it, eyelids fluttering as he feels the warmth of your skin against his. The tops of his cheekbones are dusted a faint, rosy pink.
Slowly, you remove your touch from his skin, wrapping your fingers around either side of the frames of his glasses instead.
You pull them gently away from his face, lifting them delicately before you slide them back against the crown of his head. Setting them into place, they hold his hair back in a makeshift headband.
All the while, Jungwon is silent. Lets you move and manipulate him as you like. He just watches, eyes never leaving yours.
Until you slide your palm against his cheek and he lets his eyelids flutter shut.
It’s ridiculous. You know it is. You’re acting like a child. Laying claim to your favorite toy so everyone knows not to mess with it even when you’re not on the playground.
But you don’t care about logic or maturity or even morals right now. You want all of those girls that sigh when Jungwon looks their way to know that they can’t have him.
You want them to know that he’s yours. Even if you won’t say the same to him. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.
So, slowly but surely, you lean in, bending until your lips brush his. It’s chaste, hardly a ghost of the countless moments you’ve already shared behind closed doors.
But it has your pulse hammering for entirely different reasons.
Because when you pull back, just enough to whisper a low, “Call me after class,” Jungwon is already looking at you.
And his gaze, his immediate nod of agreement, makes it all too easy to believe that maybe, just maybe he’s not just looking for the next shiny thing.
That maybe it’s not an older girl fantasy or a simple love of the chase fueling all of this.
Maybe it’s just you and him, and it doesn’t matter if you’re in an empty parking lot or a crowded lecture hall or the secrecy of your bedroom.
And maybe, just maybe, Jungwon is someone worth letting your guard down for.
