written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊
✷ years of sharing the ice with your best friend, park sunghoon, should’ve made things simple. unfortunately, olympic pressure and two oblivious figure skaters say otherwise !
🗯️ 内容 fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, skinship, cheek kisses, mild swearing, one kms joke, olympic au, figure skater au, lots of yearning, oblivious idiots in love . . .
EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : red scarf . . as in, eren and mikasa ? okay sorry 😭 winter olympics au because goooosh i remember being so giddy when i just saw sunghoon posted up in milan . . could use my own sunghoon right now too ! :-p requested, thank you so much! lowkey for my baby sarah because she da #1 sunghoon stan 😁 i hope this leaves you soft, warm, and slightly unwell ❤︎
“Please, Y/N, just—just keep this around your neck. I don’t want to wake up to a text from you cussing me out because your throat went hoarse.”
Sunghoon muttered as he wrapped his red scarf around your neck, taking his time adjusting it like he had all the authority in the world over your outfit choices.
“Ugh, you’re literally acting like my grandmother. I will definitely not do that!” you pouted, tugging lightly at the fabric.
“I’m being responsible,” he replied, completely unbothered.
“You’re bossy tonight,” you corrected.
“Never in a million years,” he shot back immediately.
That earned him a small smile from you, and a faint one from him too, like he didn’t mean to lose that round but did anyway.
You glanced down at your wrist to check the time — just past 10 PM on a Thursday night. The winter air was sharper than expected, slicing through the quiet streets and making you instantly grateful for the scarf you’d just been “assigned.”
Wonderful.
You were wandering through a small stretch of stalls near the Olympic Village, lights glowing warm against the cold night. You’d seen an Instagram reel of another athlete visiting and decided, on impulse, that you needed to see it for yourself. The only problem was your teammates were exhausted, and you didn’t want to bother them.
So who did you call?
Obviously, your best friend and fellow figure skater, Park Sunghoon.
Who, unfortunately for you, answered immediately and showed up even faster.
You had been friends with Sunghoon for what felt like forever.
Same sport, same age, same coach, same team, same high school even, and now the same Olympic national team.
The only thing missing from your massive list of “things you and Hoon share” was preschool, because back then you had been in entirely different provinces.
You still remember the first time you met him.
It was funny, actually, because you forgot a lot of things. School deadlines, assignments, routines, even that Duolingo streak you once insisted you would never break. But anything that involved Park Sunghoon stayed annoyingly clear in your memory.
It had been a breezy autumn morning when school was unexpectedly cancelled. The rink, however, was not. Your parents still dropped you off like usual, car heater blasting, breakfast still half-eaten in your hand. They came in with you at first, helped you get settled, then lingered for a moment longer than normal.
Then your mom crouched down and adjusted your gloves properly. Your dad checked your bag twice even though it was already packed.
“We won’t come in today,” your mom said gently.
You blinked at her. “Why?”
“Because you already know what to do,” she replied, smiling. “It is time you try on your own.”
You did not think much of it at the time. You had been watching them do everything for years anyway. You knew where things went, how things were supposed to look, what order everything came in.
What you did not know was how to properly tie your skates so they would actually stay tight.
You sat on the rink bench for a long time, one skate already on, the other half-laced. You pulled the laces tighter, checked them, loosened them again, tried once more. It never felt right.
Your brows stayed furrowed the entire time. Your tongue pressed lightly against the inside of your cheek as you concentrated. Every few seconds, a quiet “damn it” slipped out under your breath before you tried again like it might magically work the next time.
It did not.
That was when someone stopped in front of you.
A boy around your age, skating bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly messy from the cold air outside. He looked like he had just finished warm-ups, like he belonged there without even trying.
He glanced down at your skates, then at your face.
“Uh, hey,” he said. His voice was calm, almost hesitant. “Do you need help?”
You looked up at him like he had just appeared out of nowhere. You hesitated for half a second, then nodded.
“Yes please.”
He crouched down without another word.
His fingers moved like he had done this a hundred times before. He loosened what you had done, reset the tension, and started lacing your skate properly from the bottom up. Not too tight, not too loose. Just right.
You watched him carefully, trying to memorize every step.
“You are new here?” he asked casually, not looking up yet.
You nodded again. “First season alone.”
“Mm.” He paused briefly, then tightened another section. “I am Sunghoon.”
You stared at him for a moment, then answered, “Y/N.”
He gave a small nod like that was enough information for now.
When he finished, he tapped the skate lightly like he was checking his own work.
“Try standing,” he said.
You did.
It actually held.
Your eyes widened slightly. “Oh.”
Sunghoon stood up after you, brushing his hands lightly as if nothing important had just happened.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said simply.
You looked up at him, still processing the fact that your problem had been solved in under a minute.
“Thank you.”
He paused like he was deciding whether to say something else, then gave a small shrug.
“See you around, Y/N.”
Then he skated off like he had not just permanently altered the trajectory of your entire life.
And somehow, that was it.
The beginning of everything.
You would be lying to yourself if you said you never developed romantic feelings for him at some point.
He was, or rather still is, an attractive person. Pale skin that always looked a little colder under rink lights, thick eyebrows that made his expressions sharper than they needed to be, tall enough that you always had to tilt your head slightly when talking to him. And a jawline that somehow made him look like he belonged in magazines even when he was just standing around in a training jacket.
Those feelings faded quickly though.
In your own words, he was always better as a friend.
At least, that is what you told yourself, and eventually, what you started to believe.
You never admitted to him that you had once liked him. It was brief anyway, some two-month thing in middle school that you conveniently buried under years of friendship and shared routines.
Right?
Because if you really thought about it, Sunghoon had always had that kind of attention.
Girls would crowd around him every Valentine’s season, laughing too loudly at his jokes, pretending they “just happened to pass by” his locker. During school events, there was always someone trying to snap a photo with him, standing just a little too close, lingering just a second too long.
He never seemed bothered by it. Just mildly confused most of the time, like he could not understand why people made such a big deal out of him.
You remember one Valentine’s Day in junior year especially clearly.
His desk had been filled with chocolates. Boxes stacked awkwardly, handwritten notes tucked between them, some even decorated with ribbons so bright they looked out of place in a classroom.
He stared at it for a long moment, then let out a tired groan.
“I’m going to contract diabetes,” he muttered, pushing one box slightly to the side like it had personally offended him.
You had been sitting beside him, already unpacking your things, watching the chaos with mild amusement.
“Just give them away,” you said casually. “Teammates during training. Coach Jang. Your parents. Your sister. Spread the love, Hoon!”
He turned his head toward you like you had just solved world hunger.
“Perfect idea,” he said immediately. “You’re a genius!”
Then he started sorting through the pile with surprising focus, ignoring the fancy boxes and neatly wrapped ones, until he paused.
He pulled out three plain milk chocolate bars.
Your favorite.
He turned slightly in his seat and held them out to you like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“For you,” he said. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N.”
You took them without thinking too hard about it.
“Oh my gosh, thank you,” you said, trying to sound normal.
He went back to sorting through the rest like you had not just been singled out from an entire desk full of attention. To him, pulling out your favorite chocolate had been the most natural decision in the world.
Like it meant nothing, and everything.
Damn you, Park Sunghoon.
“Stay still, Y/N,” Sunghoon pleads as he adjusts the scarf around your neck again, fingers carefully looping the fabric like he’s trying to solve a problem that personally offended him.
“I am still!” you shoot back immediately, though your breath fogs slightly in the cold air as you speak.
He pauses for a second, looks at you, then at the scarf.
It has already loosened again.
For the third time in seven minutes.
Sunghoon exhales through his nose like he is trying very hard not to be dramatic about it, then steps closer. His hands come up again without hesitation, pulling the fabric tighter and tucking it in properly with the kind of focus he usually reserves for competitions.
“You’re literally just sabotaging yourself,” he mutters.
“I am standing perfectly still,” you insist.
“You keep moving.”
“I’m literally just breathing.”
“That is movement.”
“So do you want me to stop breathing or what?”
He glances at you then, just briefly, like he’s deciding whether to argue further or accept defeat. He chooses neither and just fixes the scarf again, this time looping it a little more securely.
The cold air around you is sharp enough that even small movements feel exaggerated. People pass by in thick jackets and steaming drinks, the plaza alive with soft chatter and distant music from the stalls.
Someone walks past a little too slowly, glancing between the two of you.
Then a group of European athletes trailing behind them catches sight of you both and immediately lights up, laughing like they’ve just spotted something entertaining mid-walk.
“Eyy, legendary lovers,” one of them calls out with an exaggerated grin. “You guys are hella cool on the ice. Keep it up!”
The comment lands so casually it almost feels like a joke they’ve made a hundred times before.
But it still hits.
Both of you react at the exact same time.
“We’re not—”
“We are not.”
The overlap is immediate and messy.
Sunghoon clears his throat right after, stepping back half a pace like distance can erase the last three seconds of existence. His hand drops from your scarf, hesitates in the air for a moment, then disappears into his pocket.
“People talk too much,” he mutters.
“You talk too much,” you fire back instantly.
He turns his head slightly toward you, eyes narrowing in that familiar way that always comes right before he says something unnecessarily confident.
Then he rolls them, slow and exaggerated, like the entire situation is mildly offensive to him.
Without asking, he reaches out toward the gray cat plush you’ve been holding tucked between your elbow and your waist, like you’ve already claimed it as part of your body.
“Give it,” he says simply.
You tighten your hold on it immediately.
“No.”
Sunghoon pauses, fingers still hovering mid-air.
“Fuck you mean, no?” he says, disbelief sharp in his voice, eyes flicking up from the plush to you like you’ve personally offended him.
“Silly, it’s mine now!”
“That is not how winning works.”
“Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
“I didn’t even lose it! I voluntarily gave it to you.”
He stares at you for a second longer, then leans in slightly as if proximity might change your mind. The Olympic plaza lights catch in his hair, soft and warm against the cold air, making him look unfairly composed for someone currently arguing over a stuffed animal in public.
You shift the plush behind you instinctively.
His gaze drops to where you’ve hidden it, then comes back up.
“I literally got that for you, Y/N,” he says.
“You technically won it,” you correct. “I physically secured it.”
“That is not a thing.”
“It is now,” you say, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you hold the plush a little closer, like daring him to argue further.
A small group passes behind him, laughing and speaking too quickly in a mix of languages you don’t fully catch. One of them glances at you both, then at the plush, then smirks like they’ve already decided on a narrative.
Sunghoon notices the look but ignores it.
Mostly.
His jaw tightens just slightly before he exhales and tries again, softer this time.
“I’m holding it for a second,” he says. “You’re going to lose it in five minutes.”
“No, I won’t.”
“You will.”
“I won’t.”
“You literally always do this.”
“I take care of things! I take care of a lot of things, Mr. Park.”
“You forgot your water bottle yesterday and you had to look for mine and you consumed all my water,” he says, immediately.
“That was one time and I was thirsty,” you shoot back without missing a beat.
“That was Wednesday,” he mutters, like it’s the final piece of evidence in a case you’ve already lost.
You open your mouth to argue, but he is already reaching again, this time more patient, less teasing. His hand brushes the edge of the plush, then lightly nudges it free from where you’ve wedged it against your side.
Right.
Earlier, Sunghoon had won you that cat plush without even thinking twice about it.
It had been after the ring toss stall, when the vendor laughed and called you a couple, and Sunghoon had gone completely still for half a second too long before pretending it meant nothing. After that, he had scanned the prize table like he needed something to do with his hands, picked out the gray cat without asking you, and handed it over like it was the most normal conclusion in the world.
No explanation.
No hesitation.
Just a quiet “pick one,” like he already knew what you’d choose before you did.
The plush now sits awkwardly between the two of you as he finally tugs it free, holding it up slightly like he is inspecting evidence.
The cat’s expression is permanently unimpressed.
Sunghoon looks at it, then at you.
“You two match,” he says.
You gasp immediately. “That is rude.”
“Observational if you ask me,” Sunghoon replies, but there’s no real bite to it.
“I’m taking it back, asshole.”
“You already lost custody.”
“Girl, I didn’t even sign anything!”
“Yeah, right,” he says, lightly sarcastic, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips anyway.
That makes you pause for a second, then you huff a small laugh anyway, tightening your hold on the plush.
“That is not legally binding,” you say, softer this time.
Sunghoon looks at you for a moment longer than necessary, then shrugs like he’s trying to play it off.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says gently. “It’s still true.”
He ignores you, turning the plush slightly in his hand, thumb brushing over one ear absentmindedly. The gesture is small, almost thoughtless, but he doesn’t immediately give it back.
Instead, he holds it there between you both for a moment longer than necessary.
Like he is deciding something he doesn’t say out loud.
Then he just exhales, quiet.
“…It looks better with you anyway,” he mutters, and hands it back.
The words land softly in the cold air, casual enough that you almost don’t register them at first.
Almost is the keyword.
You hug the plush closer without thinking.
Sunghoon had always been like this, the type to quietly pester you without making it obvious that he was doing it, as if sticking around you was just part of his daily routine rather than a choice he kept making.
He was not loud about anything, not even friendship. Most people assumed that meant he was distant, or hard to approach, or simply not interested in people at all. In reality, he just did not see the point in filling silence with unnecessary words. If he was there, he was there. That was usually enough for him.
Somehow, that “there” always included you.
It showed up in small ways that never felt big enough to question. He would end training and end up walking beside you without saying much, matching your pace like it was natural. He would sit near you during team briefings even when there were better seats. He would linger just a little longer after everyone else left, pretending to adjust something in his bag while you finished packing.
At first, it did not register as anything unusual. He was literally just floating around. Sunghoon was like that with routines.
The late-night messages were the same.
They were never long. Never emotional in a way that made you stop and think. Just short check-ins that showed up at random hours like he had remembered you existed between everything else.
Hoon [8:17 PM]: heyy, home alr?
Hoon [11:46 PM]: you still up?
Hoon [9:23 PM]: ate already?
You never thought too deeply about them. It just felt like Sunghoon being Sunghoon, the same way he would remind you to stretch or tell you to fix your posture without any real buildup.
There was one night you were sick, though it still did not feel like something serious enough to turn into a memory at the time.
You had been lying in bed, half-aware of your phone buzzing on the side table. Training had been normal that day, or at least you thought it had been, until his name popped up.
Hoon [10:01 PM]: r u okay? you sounded off earlier 🫠
You stared at it for a second.
God.
You [10:01 PM]: yup, tired only
He replied almost immediately.
Hoon [10:02 PM]: you sure
Not a question that needed convincing, just a continuation of his observation.
You sighed, trying not to make it into a bigger thing than it was.
You [10:03 PM]: yeah just sleepy dw
A pause followed. Longer than usual.
Then:
Hoon [10:06 PM]: drink water y/n
You remember staring at that message for a moment, not because it was strange, but because it wasn’t. It sounded exactly like something he would say in person too, flat and practical, like hydration was just another part of training discipline.
You did not really respond after that. There was no need to. The conversation didn’t end so much as settle.
He stayed online for a while longer, though he didn’t say anything else. You only knew because his name didn’t disappear.
That was another thing about Sunghoon. He didn’t really leave conversations abruptly. He just stayed in them quietly, like presence itself was enough.
The second kind of messages came when he was tired.
Those ones were rarer, usually after long training days when everything ran late and everyone was drained enough that even talking felt like effort.
He would send things like:
Hoon [6:18 PM]: training was rough today im gonna kms 🥀
Hoon [10:57 PM]: who tf got into coaches nerves again, so strict for what
Hoon [9:31 PM]: y/n my legs hurt
Simple complaints. Nothing dramatic. The kind of things anyone on the team might say if they were sitting next to you in the locker room.
You always replied in the same way, half joking, half listening.
You [7:23 PM]: you survive every day somehow congrats
You [12:07 AM]: you say this every week and then still skate perfectly, you’ll be fine sunghoon 😼 trust
He would usually respond with something short, sometimes nothing at all, sometimes just a “yeah” or a reaction that meant he had seen it and moved on.
There was one time he stayed longer in the conversation than usual.
It was late enough that you were already half asleep when his messages came through.
Hoon [11:17 PM]: ugh im so damn tired of training all the time
You blinked at your screen, trying to read it properly.
You [11:17 PM]: then take a break lol, no one’s pressuring u 😭
A pause.
Then another message came, slower.
Hoon [11:18 PM]: can’t really
You frowned slightly, still not fully awake.
You [11:18 PM]: yes tf you literally can
That was when he sent the one message that made you pause, but not in a way that changed how you saw him.
Hoon [11:18 PM]: if it weren’t for you i don’t think i’d still be on the team 🥲
What the hell was he on?
You remember exhaling a quiet laugh through your nose, mostly because it sounded like something Sunghoon would say when he was being overly dramatic after a long day. He had a habit of saying things too seriously when he was tired, then acting like it meant nothing the next morning.
Hoon [11:19 PM]: okay relax dramatic king
There was a short pause before he replied.
Just a dot.
Then nothing else.
The next day, he acted completely normal.
Training, small comments, occasional teasing when you missed something easy. No mention of the message. No awkwardness. Nothing that suggested it had meant anything beyond a tired thought he tossed into a chat window.
And you did not think much of it either.
Because Sunghoon was like that sometimes.
A little dramatic when exhausted, a little quiet when focused, a little too present in your space without ever making it feel intentional.
Just a friend who showed up a lot.
Texted a lot.
Stayed a lot.
Nothing more complicated than that.
The night stretches, quiet and honey-lit, and you walk beside Sunghoon in a silence that feels more like a shared breath than an absence of words. Your shoulder brushes his sleeve occasionally, a soft, accidental touch that neither of you corrects.
The gray cat plush is now wedged securely, a silent witness to the unspoken things hanging in the cold air between you.
The fabric of your national jackets rustles faintly every time you shift, zippers clicking in small, grounded sounds that feel strangely loud in the calm.
The pavement beneath your feet is still faintly damp, reflecting fragments of gold and white from the streetlights above. Every few steps, your breath clouds in front of you, dissolving almost immediately into the cold air like it was never there.
Somewhere far behind, the plaza still hums with distant life, but it feels sealed off now, like you’ve stepped into a quieter version of the world that only the two of you occupy.
He’s been your constant for too damn long — the friend who understood the grind before dawn, the ache in your muscles after a bad fall, the specific, quiet madness of loving something that demands everything from you.
In a world of fleeting friendships and competitive smiles, Sunghoon was the one who never felt like competition. He literally was just there. Your parallel line on the same impossible graph. Even when everything else shifted around you, teams changing, routines tightening, pressure building, he stayed in the same orbit, steady and familiar in a way you never questioned until now.
You feel him shift beside you, his hands still buried deep in his pockets. He clears his throat, a small, awkward sound that doesn’t belong to the effortless skater you know on the ice.
The sound feels almost out of place against the quiet, like it belongs to a different version of him that only appears when things get too real to control.
“It’s strange,” he starts, voice low, almost swallowed by the mist. “Out here. Without the noise.”
You nod, not looking at him. “Mm, I agree. Less pressure.”
“Not less,” he says, and you finally glance up. He’s staring straight ahead, his profile sharp under the warm light. “Just… different, way more different than what we usually know. The pressure is just us now.”
His breath comes out slower on the last word, like he didn’t mean to say it that clearly but couldn’t take it back once it formed.
The words hang, heavy and simple. You feel your pulse tap a quick, confused rhythm against your ribs.
Us? Us.
It was always ‘us’, but never framed like this, like a closed circuit, a private universe. The kind of word that suddenly makes everything before it feel like it was leading somewhere without telling you.
He stops walking entirely, turning to face you under the widest streetlight, where the glow pools around you like a spotlight without an audience.
His expression is painfully earnest, the kind he only wears when he’s discussing a jump technique or a music choice, things he cares about with a terrifying, singular depth.
The light softens the edges of his face, catching on his lashes, on the faint tension in his jaw, on the way his lips press together like he’s rehearsing silence.
“You know,” he says, and his voice cracks slightly. He frowns at himself, then continues, stubborn. “You know I don’t… say things. Good things. The right things, that’s for sure.” His fingers flex briefly inside his pockets like he’s resisting the urge to pull them out and gesture.
“You say factual things, Sunghoon,” you offer, trying to lighten the air that’s suddenly grown thick.
“This isn’t factual.” He shakes his head, a quick, frustrated motion. “This is… messy? Yeah, messy. And I don’t know how to say it without it sounding like a mistake.” The last word lands heavier than the rest, like he’s been circling it for a while before letting it slip.
You just stand there, holding your squished cat plush, feeling utterly oblivious and completely terrified.
Your brain, usually sharp on the ice, feels like it’s skating on slush.
Is this… what even is this?
What’s he trying to say?
The silence between you stretches just long enough that you become hyper-aware of everything — the cold biting your fingertips, the way your scarf sits too tightly now, the sound of your own breathing suddenly too loud.
Sunghoon takes a step closer, closing the small distance until you can see the faint, nervous tremor in his jaw.
“You’re my only friend,” he says, the words rushing out like a fall he can’t stop. “My only real one. Who gets it. Who gets… me? Yeah. Not the skater, just… me. And I think… I’ve maybe… loved you for too long to remember how to just be your friend.”
His voice dips slightly on the last part, quieter, like it costs more to say than everything before it combined.
There it is.
A confession, blunt and clumsy, delivered with the same intense focus he uses for a quadruple jump. It hangs in the cold, waiting for you to catch it.
And you, wonderfully, horribly oblivious, blink. “You… love me?”
He exhales, a sound full of exasperation and fondness.
“Yes. Too much. It’s inconvenient. It makes me do dumb things, like trying to tell you under a streetlight when I should have just kept fixing your scarf forever.”
There’s a faint, almost helpless laugh buried in the words, like he’s already aware of how ridiculous it sounds but can’t stop himself anymore.
The realization dawns, slow and warm, spreading through your chest like a thaw.
He loves you. Sunghoon. Your friend. Your constant. He loves you, and he’s standing here, looking shy and a little dumb, waiting for you to say something. It feels almost surreal, like your brain is catching up to a scene that has already finished playing.
You, also shy and a little dumb, finally say, “Oh.”
He almost smiles. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” You nod, feeling your own awkwardness mirror his. “That… makes sense. I think I… love you too? Too much? Also inconveniently?” Your voice comes out smaller than expected, but steady enough to not take it back.
He doesn’t reply with words.
Instead, he reaches out, his hands finally leaving his pockets. They are cold when they first touch your cheeks, but the warmth from his palms seeps through quickly.
He just holds your face, looking at you with an intensity that makes the distant fan zone music vanish entirely. His thumbs hover for a second like he’s checking if this is real before settling more firmly, grounding himself in the contact.
Then, he leans in and kisses your cheek — a soft, deliberate press against your cold skin. It’s not flashy, not dramatic. It’s a Sunghoon-thing, really: precise, meaningful, and quietly devastating. The kind of gesture that feels simple until it isn’t, until it lingers longer in your mind than the actual moment should allow.
Your breath stutters. Before you can even process it, his arms are around you, pulling you into a hug that feels like coming home after a long trip. Your jackets rustle, zippers clicking softly. You bury your face against his shoulder, the cat plush now crushed between you both.
The fabric of his jacket smells faintly like cold air and detergent and something familiar that makes your chest tighten in a way you don’t fully understand yet.
One of his hands slips under your jacket, finding the small of your back, his cold fingers spreading warmth through your thin shirt. You mimic him, sliding your own hand under his team jacket, feeling the heat of his skin through his sweater. It’s an invasion of personal space so complete it feels like a merger. Neither of you pulls away from it.
You stay like that for a long time, wrapped up under the streetlight, two shy, dumb people who finally figured out the most important thing. The night feels no longer unreal, but hyper-real — every sensation amplified, every heartbeat shared. Even the air feels different now, surprisingly, it’s less empty, more occupied, like it finally has somewhere to settle.
Finally, he murmurs against your hair, “We’re going to be late for the team debrief tomorrow.”
“Factual,” you whisper back.
He laughs, a quiet, real sound you’ve rarely heard outside the rink. “Still factual.”
You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are bright, relieved, endlessly fond. You lean in this time, kissing his cheek in return, a mirror of his gesture. Then, because you can, you rest your forehead against his, sharing the same air, the same warmth, the same quiet, honey-lit world you’ve accidentally built under the Milan sky.
Hands still under jackets, hearts finally aligned, you start walking again.
The night stretches ahead, no longer just familiar, but explicitly, inconveniently, wonderfully yours.
⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
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💿 ࿐ . . kind of by faye webster
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
genre: established relationship, soft angst, comfort, fluff
wc: 2.7k
warnings: brief social embarrassment, overthinking, insecurity, fear of being "too much" (no one is ever too much!!!), lovesick Taesan, chronic yapper
a/n: to all my yappers out there, you are loved and appreciated!! @yoonlxlla thank you for proofreading, you're my star!!
You were a yapper.
A chronic yapper, according to your friends.
Not in an annoying way—at least that’s what everyone always insisted. You just loved talking. About stupid little things, about serious things, about things nobody else noticed. You could turn a five-minute story into forty-five if someone let you. Your thoughts moved too fast for your mouth to keep up, and sometimes words spilled out before you even realized you were speaking.
But people usually smiled through it.
They laughed when you got dramatic over tiny inconveniences. They listened when you rambled about a movie theory nobody asked for. They let you explain random facts you’d learned at two in the morning from some questionable internet rabbit hole.
And honestly?
You liked that about yourself.
You liked being passionate. You liked caring loudly.
So maybe that was why it hurt more than it should’ve when the newest addition to the friend group sighed softly halfway through your story and said,
“Can you maybe let other people talk too?”
The words weren’t even harsh.
Her tone was polite. Calm. Casual.
But it still felt like someone had poured cold water directly over your head.
The entire table went quiet for a split second.
Not long enough for anyone to acknowledge it.
Just long enough for everyone to hear it.
Then conversation resumed almost immediately, awkwardly stumbling forward as if nothing had happened.
You felt your smile strain at the corners.
“Oh,” you laughed quietly. “Yeah. Sorry.”
And just like that, you shut up.
You stopped talking mid-thought. Stopped adding onto conversations. Stopped interrupting yourself with excited little side tangents. Even when people directly asked you things afterward, your answers stayed short.
The worst part was how painfully aware you suddenly became of your own voice.
Every time you almost spoke, your chest tightened.
Were you talking too much again?
Were people secretly annoyed all the time?
Did they only tolerate you because they felt bad?
You hated how quickly your brain spiraled.
So instead of risking it, you stayed quiet, and apparently nobody noticed.
Well.
Nobody except him.
Later that evening, the apartment door opened and Taesan walked in.
The atmosphere shifted almost immediately.
Maybe it was because Taesan naturally carried himself like someone impossible not to notice. Tall frame wrapped in an oversized black hoodie, dark hair slightly messy from the wind outside, rings glinting against his fingers as he pushed the door shut behind him.
Or maybe it was because your stupid heart still reacted to him like it hadn’t learned better yet.
“Finally,” Leehan groaned. “You’re late.”
Taesan snorted. “I brought food. That cancels out the lateness.”
“It absolutely does not.”
“It literally does.”
Everyone started talking over each other immediately.
Taesan laughed under his breath while slipping off his shoes, and then his eyes found you almost instantly.
Always.
It didn’t matter how many people were in a room.
His attention somehow landed on you first every single time.
Your chest squeezed painfully.
You forced a smile before he made his way over, setting the takeout bags down on the table first before dropping onto the couch beside you.
“Hi,” he murmured.
“Hi.”
He leaned down automatically to kiss your cheek.
Usually you’d immediately start talking after that.
You’d tell him something random before he could even settle properly. Maybe about the weird guy you saw earlier, or how Hana almost burned the garlic bread, or some ridiculous thing you read online.
Instead, you stayed quiet.
Taesan pulled back slowly. His brows furrowed almost instantly. There it is, you thought miserably.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He greeted everyone else casually, fell into the rhythm of the conversation for maybe five minutes, but you could feel him glancing at you every few seconds.
Studying you.
By the sixth glance, you couldn’t even focus on the conversation anymore.
Then he leaned closer.
“You’re quiet,” he said softly enough that only you could hear. “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head immediately.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
You even smiled a little to make it convincing.
It didn’t work on him for even half a second.
Taesan stared at you for another moment before narrowing his eyes slightly.
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve said maybe six words since I got here.”
You shrugged.
“I’m just tired.”
That earned you an unimpressed look. Because Taesan knew you. Knew you in the terrifyingly specific ways that made lying almost impossible.
He knew your fake smiles from your real ones. Knew the difference between your annoyed silence and your hurt silence. Knew when your thoughts were moving too fast because your fingers twitched against your sleeves.
And right now?
He knew something had happened.
Still, he didn’t push.
Not there.
Not in front of everyone.
Instead, he rested his arm behind you on the couch and stayed quiet.
But you could feel it.
The way he kept looking at you.
The way his jaw tightened every time someone else spoke while you stayed silent.
The way he frowned slightly whenever you laughed too softly at something.
You hated that he could tell.
You hated that you cared this much.
The evening dragged on painfully after that.
Usually you were the loudest person in the room. Usually Taesan spent half his time teasing you for bouncing between topics too fast for anyone else to follow.
Tonight, you mostly just listened.
And somehow that felt worse.
At some point, Riwoo brought up conspiracy theories.
Normally that would’ve been dangerous territory for you because you loved talking about weird things. Taesan especially loved listening to you spiral through theories with dramatic hand gestures and completely unnecessary diagrams drawn on napkins.
Tonight, you stayed quiet, and Taesan noticed immediately.
His head turned toward you.
“You don’t have anything to say about this?” he asked.
You blinked.
“Hm?”
“The conspiracy thing.”
“Oh.” You looked down at your drink. “Not really.”
Now everyone was staring at you like you’d grown a second head.
“Not really?” Hana repeated. “You literally made a thirty-minute presentation once.”
“It was not thirty minutes.”
“It was forty-five.”
Normally you would’ve argued dramatically. Normally you would’ve laughed. Instead, you just shrugged again.
Taesan’s expression darkened slightly.
He looked genuinely concerned now.
And honestly?
That almost made you emotional.
Because nobody else seemed to realize how weird this was except him.
The conversation continued, but you could feel Taesan getting quieter beside you too.
Observing.
Thinking.
Then eventually he leaned down near your ear.
“Come outside with me for a second.”
Your stomach twisted.
You nodded quietly.
Nobody really questioned it when he stood up and held his hand out toward you. You slipped your hand into his automatically and let him guide you toward the apartment balcony.
The cool night air hit your face immediately.
Nights always felt strangely comforting to you. Cold enough to wake you up a little, soft enough to calm you down.
Taesan slid the balcony door shut behind him.
Then he turned toward you fully.
“What happened?”
You looked away instantly.
“Nothing happened.”
“Baby.”
That voice.
That soft, patient voice he only used when he knew you were lying but wanted to give you the chance to tell the truth anyway.
You swallowed.
“It’s stupid.”
“Then tell me the stupid thing.”
You rubbed at your sleeve nervously. Taesan waited quietly. Somehow that made it worse. Because he wasn’t rushing you. Wasn’t dismissing you. Wasn’t acting annoyed. He just looked at you like what you said mattered.
Always.
Finally you sighed.
“I think I talk too much.”
Taesan blinked once.
“What?”
You laughed awkwardly.
“There. See? That reaction alone proves it.”
“What are you talking about?”
You hesitated.
Then quietly explained what happened earlier. The more you talked, the more Taesan’s expression changed. Not annoyed. Not embarrassed. Just increasingly upset on your behalf.
“And I know she didn’t mean it badly,” you rushed to explain. “Like logically I know that. I probably was talking too much. I do that sometimes and I know it can be annoying and—”
“Hey.”
Your words stopped immediately.
Taesan stepped closer.
“You know what I noticed when I got here?”
You frowned slightly.
“What?”
“You weren’t talking.”
“Well obviously.”
“And that bothered me.”
Your chest tightened unexpectedly.
Taesan shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before continuing.
“You know what this friend group sounded like before you joined?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“Dead.”
You snorted softly despite yourself.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Nobody talked this much. Nobody got excited this much. Half the hangouts used to be everyone staring at their phones.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s true.”
You rolled your eyes weakly.
Taesan leaned against the balcony railing.
“You talk a lot because you care a lot.”
Your throat felt weirdly tight now.
“You get excited over things. You tell stories like every detail matters. You make people laugh because your brain moves faster than your mouth.” His lips twitched slightly. “Sometimes significantly faster.”
You finally smiled a little.
“There she is,” he murmured immediately.
Your smile faltered from embarrassment.
“You don’t think I’m annoying?”
Taesan looked genuinely offended.
“Annoying? Baby, I voluntarily listen to you explain things I don’t even understand for hours.”
“That doesn’t count. You’re biased.”
“I’m absolutely biased. But I’m also right.”
You stared down at your shoes.
Taesan sighed softly before reaching over to tilt your chin up gently.
“I like listening to you.”
The sincerity in his voice made your stomach flip.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to.”
You looked at him carefully, and unfortunately for your emotional stability, he looked completely serious.
Taesan laughed quietly under his breath.
“You know what's my favorite thing?”
“What?”
“The way you start rambling when you’re excited and then halfway through you realize you forgot the original point.”
You groaned immediately.
“Oh my god.”
“And then you try to backtrack but somehow the story gets even longer.”
“Taesan.”
“And your hands start doing this—” He mimicked your overly animated gestures badly.
You smacked his arm instantly.
“That is not what I look like.”
“That’s exactly what you look like.”
“You’re evil.”
He grinned.
“There she is again.”
You hated how easily he could pull you out of your moods sometimes.
Taesan’s expression softened after a moment.
“Do you know how quiet you got in there?”
You looked away again.
“Yeah.”
“I hated it.”
That surprised you.
“You did?”
“Mhm.”
He reached for your hand absentmindedly, playing with your fingers while he spoke.
“When you’re quiet because you’re tired, it’s different. Tonight you looked like you were trying to make yourself smaller.”
Your chest ached immediately. Because that was exactly what you’d been doing.
Taesan sighed softly.
“I don’t like when people make you feel like you need to shrink yourself.”
You blinked rapidly.
“It wasn’t even a big deal—”
“It hurt your feelings.”
The simple certainty in his voice almost undid you.
You laughed weakly instead.
“I sound dramatic.”
“You are dramatic.”
“Wow.”
“But you’re also sensitive.” He squeezed your hand gently. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
You stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling,
“I was trying really hard not to talk too much afterward.”
“I know.”
“I kept thinking about everything I said before speaking.”
“I know.”
“And then I got scared to talk at all because what if everyone secretly agrees with her?”
Taesan’s face softened painfully.
Then suddenly he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you. The hug caught you off guard enough that you melted into him almost instantly.
“You know what I think?” he murmured against your hair.
“What?”
“I think if somebody genuinely didn’t like you talking, they wouldn’t keep inviting you everywhere.”
You hummed quietly.
“And I think,” he continued, “you’re way too loved for that.”
Your throat tightened embarrassingly fast.
Taesan pulled back slightly just to look at you.
“And personally? I could listen to you talk forever.”
“That’s insane.”
“It probably is.”
You laughed quietly into his hoodie.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
The city lights glowed softly around you while distant traffic hummed below.
Then unfortunately your brain started functioning normally again.
“So anyway speaking of conspiracy theories—”
Taesan burst out laughing immediately.
“There she is.”
“No because listen,” you said, suddenly animated again. “Why do celebrities always wear sunglasses inside buildings? That’s suspicious behavior.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m serious. There has to be a reason.”
Taesan leaned against the railing again while you started talking properly for the first time all evening.
And because he loved you hopelessly, completely, disgustingly much—
He listened. Not the fake kind of listening either. Not the kind where someone nods while waiting for their turn to speak.
Taesan listened like every word mattered.
Like your thoughts were something precious.
You started pacing slightly as you spoke, hands moving dramatically while you explained your ridiculous theory about celebrities, government replacements, and weird airport behavior.
Halfway through, you got distracted by another thought entirely.
“Wait actually speaking of airports, did I ever tell you about the guy I saw eating tuna at like six in the morning?”
Taesan smiled immediately.
The topic switch.
Classic you.
“Yes,” he said fondly. “Three times.”
“Right, okay, but that’s because it was genuinely disturbing behavior.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“No because imagine waking up and deciding tuna is breakfast food.”
Taesan watched you continue talking. Watched the way your face lit up again. Watched your eyes brighten more with every sentence.
And maybe it was pathetic how much affection filled his chest from something as simple as this. But he couldn’t help it. He loved listening to you. Loved the way your thoughts wandered unpredictably. Loved how passionate you got over tiny things. Loved how conversations with you never stayed on one topic for longer than three minutes.
You made everything feel alive.
Even silence felt warmer around you.
You eventually stopped mid-sentence suddenly.
Taesan blinked.
“What?”
You squinted at him suspiciously.
“You’re doing the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you stare at me like I’m a cute puppy.”
“I’ve never made that face in my life.”
“You’re literally making it right now.”
He laughed quietly.
“Maybe I just like you.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically.
“Cringe.”
“And yet you stay.”
“Unfortunately.”
Taesan pulled you closer by your hoodie strings.
“You know what else?”
“What?”
“You look happiest when you’re talking.”
That hit you strangely hard. Because nobody had ever said that before, and maybe it was silly. Maybe it was stupid how emotional something so small made you feel.
But Taesan noticed things.
Tiny things.
The kinds of things people usually overlooked.
You looked away shyly.
“That’s embarrassing.”
“It’s cute.”
“Even more embarrassing.”
Taesan laughed softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
Then the balcony door suddenly slid open behind you. Riwoo peeked outside dramatically.
“Oh thank god,” he sighed. “She’s talking again. We were getting scared.”
You groaned instantly.
Taesan smirked.
“Told you.”
Riwoo pointed accusingly at you.
“Do you know how weird it was in there without you talking about something random every five minutes?”
“That sounds fake.”
“It’s not fake,” Leehan called from inside. “Come back and tell us more conspiracy theories.”
You blinked in surprise.
Taesan watched your expression carefully.
That tiny moment of realization. Maybe they did like listening to you after all.
Riwoo grinned.
“Seriously. The silence was depressing.”
You laughed softly before looking at Taesan again, and the look on his face nearly melted you alive.
Fond.
That was the only word for it.
Like he was genuinely relieved to see you smiling again.
You nudged him lightly.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m adorable.”
“You are adorable.”
“Taesan.”
“You’re literally pouting.”
You immediately stopped pouting. Which only made him laugh harder.
Riwoo gagged loudly.
“You two are disgusting. Get back inside.”
Taesan snorted before intertwining his fingers with yours again. As he led you back inside, he leaned down slightly and murmured near your ear,
“By the way.”
“Hm?”
“If anyone tells you to stop talking again, I’m fighting them.”
You stared at him.
“That’s insane.”
“Mhm.”
“You can’t fight people for not wanting to hear me yap.”
“I can and I will.”
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
And that sound alone made Taesan think the entire world was worth it.
diet pepsi ⸺ camp counselor!jay (sounds to scenes collection)
( ★ ) ⸻ jay spent the entire summer pretending that he wasn't into you. ignoring every single one of your advances, because it made sense. you were younger. he was leaving. it just wouldn't work out. avoiding you just made the most sense. until he's letting himself slip on your last night together and he's quickly realizing that he's made a huge mistake.
۶ৎpairing: mentor!jay x mentee!reader ۶ৎgenre: heavy angst... smut. summer camp au. age gap (reader is 18, jay is 24). established relationships. ۶ৎtw: smut (mdni!) descriptive making out, loss of virginity, mutual pining. unexpected heeseung closure. fingering, dry humping. slight dirty talk. unresolved feelings. cortis!martin makes an appearance. bnd!jaehyun. car sex. subtle masturbation (m.), relationship ending. gone the next morning... post sex abandonment? unprotected sex (not in this economy pls). ۶ৎwc: 16.5k+
⸻ playlist | diet pepsi. addison rae, bound. the ponderosa twins plus one, late night talking. harry styles, electric love. borns, love grows (where my rosemary goes). edison lighthouse, tenerife sea. ed sheeran, perfect places. lorde, bad habit. steve lacy, get you. daniel caesar ft. kali uchis, summertime sadness. lana del rey, vienna. billy joel, the scientist. coldplay.
by the time the sun was setting, camp barely looked like camp anymore. the campers that had spent the past three months running from cabin to cabin had been picked up hours ago. said cabins cleaned up and empty, ready for the winter that slowly crept around the corner. the lake was still. for the first time all summer, there wasn't a schedule to follow, no activities, no headcounts. no one asking where the arts-and-crafts supplies were. you and the eleven other counselors were the only ones left, closing out the summer with a well deserved bonfire barbecue.
martin, sakai and jaehyun dragged picnic tables to the beach before setting the folding chairs up to surround the fire, while jungwon set up his speaker, viv and lex arguing about whose playlist should be shuffled. the smell of charcoal hung heavy in the air as heeseung started up the grill, expertly cutting thick pieces of beef while brin stole bites directly off the serving tray.
he's rolling his eyes the third time her tongs chase his, “those are for everybody,” he grumbles, she nods with a grin – pushing a big piece past her lips. “mhm!” she's reaching for another piece, but he's nudging her away with his hip. she easily reaches around him, popping the pork into her mouth before he can steal it back. “brin.” he tries to sound stern, but the natural softness of his voice never leaves him. “you've eaten like a full cow by now,” he jokes and she grins wide up at him, shoulders lifting in a shrug.
“put more on,” she says simply.
mindless chatter is heard all throughout the beach, a red solo cup clutched in every hand. sunoo is stationed behind a folding table he deemed the bar, two coolers hidden underneath filled with juice and several bottles that had been hidden for the better half of the summer and an obnoxious amount of fruit. mia argues as he hands her drink over, “you shouldn't eyeball vodka,” she nags and he's snorting out a laugh. “it literally won't matter in ten years, just drink.” he encourages, repeating what had become his mantra these last few days.
and no matter how scary that sounded, he was right. all the moments that seemed huge, everything that made you cry, smile, laugh – most likely wouldn't even matter ten years from now. but that's what made every last moment that much more special, what made the goodbyes that you all knew were looming that much more devastating. because despite promising to stay in touch, you all knew that this was all temporary and in ten years, everything would be so different. you all would be completely different.
you sit close to the fire with the other girls as the chaos settles, slowly rotating a marshmallow over the flames. the heat warming the bare skin of your thighs left by the dress you picked this morning. subconsciously putting more thought into your appearance, knowing what tonight meant. it was the last night, yes, but it always was a last chance. so you’re choosing the strapless dress that hugged your frame, a bright orange with pretty pink flowers scattered over it, the colors seeming to pop against your sun-kissed skin.
you hoped you looked as pretty as you felt and that a certain someone took notice, the moment he's drifting into your thoughts – your eyes shift to where he stands. leaning casually against one of the surfboards, head tipped back as he laughs at something jungwon said. jongseong park. jay. you remember reading his name on the welcome sheet on your very first day, the man in charge of the music lodge and all of the instruments inside. your mentor for the next three months and the man who you'd be replacing at the end of the summer when he left for grad school.
that's what he was introduced to you as, but after meeting him, after spending every single day with him for the last ninety-two days, he had become so much more. he was funny, smart, kind, generous and extremely talented. the kids loved him, looked up to him and he gave them a good reason to with how patient and encouraging he was with every last one of them. he was an all around good guy and him being without a doubt the hottest guy you've ever laid eyes on only added to that.
jay was sexy without even trying to be, from his facial expressions to the way his fingers moved over the strings of his guitar, everything he did seemed to draw you in. and god you were so bad at hiding it. from day one, you couldn't keep your eyes from finding him in the crowd, couldn't mask the insistent blush of your cheeks or the way giggles would slip past your lips before you could even think twice.
and the craziest part of all of it, was that he also seemed interested in you. you never missed the way the touches would linger, the way his eyes would drop to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. you've even caught him watching you from the pier one night when you and the other girls went out for a late swim. but you never once made a move, just treaded dangerously close to the line and it all but drove you insane.
“you're drooling,” you hear from beside you and your body startles, nearly dropping your marshmallow into the fire. viv laugh besides you, leaning into your shoulder as she does. you can already feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “no i'm not,” you uselessly defend and she nods as if she actually believes you, “why don't you go say something?” brin makes an attempt at whispering, leaning across viv to look at you.
you feel the anxiety blooming in your chest before she's even finishing her sentence, “are you crazy!?” while you were like 89% sure jay also thought you were cute, there was still that 11% chance that he was just being nice. and you were terrified by that 11%. viv lifts her drink to her lips, taking a big gulp of it before she's setting in the sand, deciding she was done with it. “he leaves tomorrow... forever.” she reminds with a pointed look. “and then in ten years, none of this will matter...”
as if he could sense he was being talked about, jay's eyes drift in your direction. not even half surprised that he caught you and the other girls staring, it sort of been the theme of the summer. and the way he wiggles his fingers in a slight wave makes everything worse, because you're gasping, marshmallow actually hitting the ground as laughter erupts between your friends.
the night stretches just like that, conversations bouncing between you, drinks and food being passed and lingering stares between you and jay that everyone else pretending they didn't notice. by the time the sky was dark and the stars were twinkling, everything seemed to settle. the feeling of finality that everyone had been avoiding thickening with each flicker of the fire.
“i can't believe i won't be back here next year,” heeseung says, earning a chorus of loud eye rolls from each of you. he's only mentioned it a trillion times in the past three months. “oh my god, wait! it's your last summer!?” lex fakes a gasp that has laughter spreading, heeseung lifts his middle finger in her direction while brin slaps at her shoulder playfully. “cut him some slack, he's been here since they filled the lake.” she teases.
jungwon is quick to interject, a smirk playing on his lips. “nah, that was jay. he poured the water in himself, one cup at a time,” he punctuates his words with a tip of his own cup, letting the last few drops of his liquor hit the sand. “seriously, though, we're going to miss you guys.” sakai starts and you can already hear the quiver in her tone. “it's going to be so weird not smelling brin making bacon before sunrise, or hearing jay fighting with the kids for hiding his drumsticks, no more heeseung waking us up past midnight for ramyeon...” her lips form a pout before she can even finish her thought and you're reaching over to hug her.
“aw.” martin coos, setting down his drink before clapping his hands together. “think tonight calls for some goodbye speeches,” agreement is immediate and it's not long before brin is standing. she talks about her love for the camp, when she started and how close she's become with every one of you, highlighting funny moments, sad ones and ones that she swears she'll never forget. heeseung follows, starting with “i can't believe this is my last summer...” and ending with the same words, head shaking.
jay stands next and you feel the way your heart flutters for no good reason. his hand rubs at the back of his neck, teeth tugging at his lower lip as he fought to put the right words together. he looked handsome, face lit by the fire, hair dyed blond after losing a dare to one of the campers on the first week. it suited him. “i hate public speaking,” jungwon leads the chorus of boos that follow his words, pulling a laugh from him which seems to ease the tension between his shoulders.
he continues on despite the thump in his chest, despite knowing you're sat less than a few feet away, watching him. “honestly, this place has been home for a long time. i started when i was seventeen?” he ignores the groans that come from the group, out of all the counselors, he's been there the longest and he never let them forget it. “get off the stage, unc!” jungwon shouts, hands cupped around his mouth.
jay's eyes drift from the lake, over to the music lodge sitting at the edge of the camp, back to the friends he's grown closer to every summer. and then to you and the way you smile at him has him losing his train of thought for a full three seconds. “seriously, though, i've spent almost every summer here and i thought that would make leaving harder but it isn't. of course, i'll miss the campers, you guys and obviously my music room, but...” his eyes are back on yours and everyone notices the way his gaze, “i think the reason it's kind of easy is because i know everything i love is being left in good hands,” exaggerated gasps are heard around the fire.
jay does his best to ignore them, eyes never breaking from yours. his gaze said everything he had been swallowing for the past few months, mixed with the regret of not having the courage to make a move sooner. stood in his own way each and every time. “yn, i'm so relieved to know you'll be the one replacing me. you're so good with the kiddos, you're smart, funny... patient and creative... way more organized that i've ever been. thank you for making leaving a little bit easier, i appreciate you,” an unmistakable blush has settled on his cheeks and he's moving to sit, “and you look pretty in all your dresses,” the words are jumbled together, alcohol giving him just enough courage to mumble what he had been thinking every morning you walked into the music lodge.
the silence lasts for less than a second before obnoxious cheers erupt through the group. “better late than never!” jaehyun whistles, while sunoo claps wildly beside him. apparently, he had mentioned it to everyone but you the way they were reacting like it was this long awaited thing. it was. you ignore the flutter in your chest long enough to thank him. you can't stop replaying the last three words of his speech: 'all your dresses'. all like every one of them? which meant he had noticed every one. and he thought every one was pretty.
and he waited until the night before he was leaving to say something about it. bittersweet wasn't even the word.
the rest of the evening passes in a blur. all of your crowded around the fire, reminiscing and sharing secrets. it has the expected warm feeling the end of summer would, but you can't seem to fully enjoy it with the way your eyes keep drifting to jay. as the hours tick on, the group starts to break apart around the beach. heeseung and martin had volunteered to get more drinks and jay had hopped up to help, since then the three of them had been seated at the table a few feet away. they're talking quietly but you don't miss the not so discreet way one of them would point in your direction.
viv and mia only make it worse, shoving and hitting your arm wildly when jay finally stands to head toward the coolers. “okay, okay. go now.” you hear one of them say, nearly shoving you off of your chair. and you don't miss the kissing noises they make as you're walking away.
the coolers sit near one of the set up of kayaks that jaehyun swore he'd get put away before sundown. it was ten pm. jay is already crouched beside one when you approach, pushing aside melting ice as he searched for another drink. “hi,” your heart is pounding so rough against your chest, it's all you can muster. you catch the way his hand stills, body stilling for just a second before he's shaking it off – pulling two wine coolers from the ice before standing to face you. he hands one over with the prettiest of smiles.
“hey.” he says through one of his nervous laughs you've gotten so familiar with.
“i liked your speech,” it's all you can think of saying because it's all you can think about. his gaze drops to the sand, a hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. and for the first time all evening, all summer even – jay actually looks embarrassed. the past three months, you've been the one blushing, the one caught staring, you've been so sure you've been making a fool out of yourself with your loud crush. when it reality, he's been noticing you this entire time too. he was just so much better at hiding it.
his shoulders lift in a slight shrug, “i was just being honest.”
“honest? you were flirting with me,” you accuse playfully and that has his cheeks going pink. “oh my god,” he laughs and it's a real pretty one, it has a smile lifting on your lips almost immediately. his eyes find yours for a moment, but he's quickly finding something else to focus on. and then he's slowly coming back, allowing himself to actually look. his stare is so intense that it has you shifting, searching for something to say, anything to fill the silence. your lips part, but he's beating you to it. “i meant it. i really like you, yn. but...”
he's getting ready to reject you, you can just tell. jay didn't like loose ends and despite all the quiet glances, subtle flirting that you're now just realizing was flirting, he was still leaving in the morning. he was starting a whole new chapter of his life and there could be no maybes left behind. so he needed a clean break. you're interrupting him before he has the chance. “and you said i was pretty in all my dresses. you know, i knew you were staring every morning... you'd always act like you were look at your bon jovi poster,”
jay is letting out a low laugh, “it's a nice poster!” he defends. “but yeah, it was you.” it feels so weird to say out loud, he had been so careful all summer and admitting that he had been admiring you this whole time didn't feel like him. “you looked good in every one. extremely distracting by the way.” he's twisting the cap off of his drink as he speaks, taking a long sip from it.
and you realize why he's not holding back anymore, the semi permanent flush of his cheeks and glossy look in his eye. “every one?” you prompt with a grin, following his lead and taking a sip from your drink too.
he nods without a moment of hesitation, “all of them.” the confidence in his voice catches you off guard, because this was jay we were talking about. the same jay that spent three months carefully putting distance between you every time you got too close. who would find excuses to rush away whenever you'd start flirting with him. the same jay who'd look away whenever you caught him staring, spouting off nonsense facts about bon jovi instead of saying what he truly wanted to.
that jay was looking at you through hooded eyes, gaze dragging over the curves of your body. and a lazy smile stretches on his face that makes your stomach twist. he's nodding his head as if he's confirming a question he had asked himself. “yeah, all of them.” he says quietly. “the long blue one with the slit on the side,” your lips part slightly, the exact morning flashing in your mind. it was only the third day and he called you in early to do one final sweep before the campers were arriving later that day. you remember just throwing the dress on, annoyed that you were up before sunrise when everyone else was sleeping in.
“you remember that?” he's nodding before you're even done speaking. “yeah, you wouldn't stop giving me attitude all day.” he's laughing with a shake of his head. he's taking a step closer, turning so he's facing you fully and you feel your stomach twist. “the white one you wore to the talent show,” he continues, lip tucked between his teeth. he had stood on the other side of the room the entire show, barely speaking two words to you when it was over.
“and...” his head tilts slightly, eyes dragging over you in the way that makes it so painfully obvious that he's been forcing himself not to look at you all summer. he's grinning. “the short orange one you're wearing now,” you actually feel the way your brain short-circuits, eyes wide as your jaw drops. it's usually the other way around, you coming onto him and him ignoring you. so now that the roles were reversed, you have no idea what to do with yourself.
“okay, stop.” you're laughing, hand lifting to slap his shoulder. “what? i can't compliment you? you compliment me all the time.” you shake your head quickly, “tit's different when you do it. especially now.” you point out and jay goes quiet, because he knows you're right. it is different. everything is. summer was over, all the campers were gone, he was leaving tomorrow morning and everything just felt... heavier?
before either of you can say anything else, a scream cuts across the beach. both of you turn at the sound to find sunoo pealing his shirt from his body, sprinting toward the water. “LAST SWIM OF THE SUMMER!” he shouts as he runs. chaos breaks out within seconds, your friends abandoning their drinks and kicking off their shoes. shirts and shorts fly through the air as they reveal the swimsuits they'd been wearing all night.
the firelight flickers across the beach as everyone runs toward the lake. viv jumps on jaehyun's back, his hands clutching her thighs as he runs. jungwon, martin, sakai and lex have already started climbing up a nearby cliff. mia and heeseung are in search of a beach ball. it's so obvious that everyone was trying to drag out time, trying to cram in as many 'lasts' as they could before morning was rolling in and all of this was ending.
you're smiling, gaze shifting back to jay. and you find him already look at you, he smiles brightly before tapping his bottle against yours, tipping it back and swallowing the rest down. you do the same. his head tilts toward the lake once you're finished, brow lifted slightly. “race you,” he's running off before you can even register what he's said, bottle ditched somewhere in the sand and you're quick to follow behind him.
jay's laugh is loud and unrestrained as he runs into the water, pulling his shirt over his head in the process. you've never heard him laugh like that, ever and it's incredibly contagious. your dress joins the liter of clothing at the shoreline as you rush in. the lake is freezing and you're squealing the second it hits your legs. jay turns to face you, he's already fully submerged himself into the water and he's reaching a hand out to you.
“you gotta jump right in,” you've been saying that to him all summer. the irony is funny to you. still, you take hold of his hand and he's easily tugging you toward him. the two of you float there, treading water and staring at each other. it's like he was getting in all the looking he had missed out in the past months. “what?” you're laughing and he's shrugging his shoulder slightly. “just remembering...” you hate the way his words make you feel. you don't want to think about it being the last night, or all the time wasted. so you splash him instead, a hard wave that soaks his hair. jay's laughing, hand pushing his hair back out of his eyes to see that you've swam away and he's quick to swim after you.
you're swimming right through the middle of the impromptu game of water volleyball, jaehyun deciding you're apart of his team and sending jay to join heeseung's side. sunoo teases mia about winning now that they had you and she had jay, she rolls her eyes before roughly serving the ball. it hits jaehyun in the chest and viv shouts from the pier for you all to be careful with her man, brin laughing beside her.
across the lake, jungwon, martin, sakai and lex have made it to the top of the cliff. their voices echo as they argue about what actually counts as a flip. martin deciding to shut them all up by launching himself off of the rock, body flipping naturally in the air whooping loudly just before he's hitting the water with a loud splash and lex follows behind him, looking less graceful but gaining a supportive chant from the girls when she resurfaces.
the game of volleyball melts into a shouting match after the first three rounds, arguments about points that nobody had been even keeping track of in the first place, sunoo swearing that he didn't cheat and heeseung and jay going back and forth about something neither of them seem particularly passion about. the beach ball floats away forgotten by both teams.
eventually, you're paddling your way back toward the dock, pulling yourself up beside viv and brin. water drips from your legs as you stretch them out in front of you, back laying against the warm wood. viv immediately scoots closer, grin wide as her eyes drift to where jay and heeseung fight to pull each other under the water. “so,” you feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “does he like you? does he want to kiss and get married and have five kids?” she's asking and you're barking out a laugh.
“yeah, right.” you roll your eyes. “we didn't say much, really. just that he liked me dresses.” you catch the way brin rolls her eyes, letting out a soft huff. “he's hopeless,” she sighs, but is quickly moving to change the subject, pointing across the lake as sakai shoves jungwon into the water before jumping off behind him. “can you believe she's going to be in charge next year?” brin had spent the past three months training sakai on how to run this place and come next year, she'd be the new head counselor.
viv is shaking her head, “wild. this is the same girl who faked pneumonia to get out of cooking duties, by the way.” you're snorting out a laugh. “i'm going to miss this,” the admission settles between all three of you. waking up and not have your friends right outside your door, no more staying up late to watch the stars. this place somehow became home without any of you noticing and in less than twelve hours it all would be over.
the dock shifts slightly, a large splash following and the sound of jaehyun's laughter. viv is rolling her eyes, kicking her foot out to him but instead of hitting him, he's catching it by the ankle. he's tugging her slightly, earning a swift kick with the other leg. he's laughing. “come here,” his thumb traces her ankle, hand slowly dragging up her calf. “i'm having a conversation,” viv says, gesturing between you and brin.
jaehyun is shrugging quickly. “you can have it in the water,” his fingers tighten around her leg, a sly grin spreading across his lips and anyone can guess what he's thinking. “jaehyun, don't.” he's looking up at her, mischief dancing through his eyes. “what? i'm just touching you. i love you. i can't touch you?” they're ignoring the gagging noises that come from beside them just like they always do.
“i can feel you–” she is not even able to finish her sentence before he's yanking his arm toward him, successfully pulling viv off of the dock and into the water. he catches her instantly, arms around her waist as her legs secure themselves around his waist. “say bye to your friends,” he says already swimming further into the water.
a few feet away, heeseung is waving both his arms in your direction. “are you two planning on sitting there all night?” he shouts with his hands now cupped around his mouth. “maybe!” you're shouting back and he's quickly shaking his head, waving you both over. “get in the water!” brin is quickly pointing at you, despite the fact her legs and hair were still dry. “she doesn't want to,”
“what!? you're still dry,” you point out. she's rolling her eyes, slipping in just as heeseung has started swimming over. you follow behind her. the group gathers together slowly, floating in the middle of the lake as conversations overlap. you're all drifting between each other, talking about plans for the next few weeks, sharing excitement for next year, worries. jungwon's group eventually get their fix of cliff diving and join the rest of you in the water. lex puling herself comfortably on sunoo's back, reaching forward to steal his drink. mia starts another argument this time with sakai about who slept in the most.
and somehow in the midst of all of this, you end up beside jay again, without even fully realizing it. at least that's what you tell yourself when your shoulder bumps against his. one moment, he's laughing at something heeseung says, the very next you're stealing his attention away, in your tiny yellow bikini that barely covers yours ass. he knows. he checked.
you're so close to him, but you're completely enthralled in conversations. laughing loudly and engaging freely. your legs brushes against his whenever a soft wave rolls through and each time neither of you move away or say anything about it. you don't realize that the two of you are floating away at first. you were listening to the others, jungwon's laugh carrying across the water as martin exposes him for never really being on duty.
their voices come and go with the ways, but slowly it seems like they're fading into the background. you shift onto your break, letting the water hold your weight as you stare up at the twinkling stars scattered across the sky. jay stays close to you, tanned skin glistening in the moonlight. his hair is wet and slicked back, dark eyes sparkling as he watches you.
“you stare a lot,” you're pointing out with a laugh.
he's quick to nod his head, not even bothering to deny it. his hands find their way underneath you, floating uselessly beneath your back as if he's holding you up – but not actually touching you. just looking for excuses to be close to you, to touch you. even if it was through the water. “you're so different tonight, i'm not used to this jay.” you're saying after a minute and jay's gaze is dragging up to your eyes.
“am i?” he's asking like it's not the most obvious thing. “yes. you're actually looking at me, complimenting me, not rushing away when i get too close. where was this all summer?” besides the time the two of you spent working together in the music lodge, there were very few times where you were alone. no matter how much you wanted to be. “i was trying really hard to be professional. i'm your mentor.”
“not anymore,” you're quick to point out and you notice the way his eyes drag down the line of your neck to to the swell of your breasts all the way down to the curve of your waist. his eyes catch the gold jewelry that dangles from your navel before he's snapping his eyes back up to yours. “not anymore,” he repeats with a nod. you feel the way the palm of his hand grazes your thigh as he floats closer to you.
you're sure the pounding in your chest can be heard by your friends on the other side of the lake. you try to appear as composed as possible. “so, what else have you been keeping to yourself?” jay's lips shift into a smirk, head tilting to the side slightly. of course you want to know what he's been thinking about you since he was first meeting you. and he's kept his cards so close to his chest up until now, it was only fair. “you want the whole list?”
your head tilts so your able to look at his face fully, eyes wide. “there's a list?”
“a long one,” he's nodding quickly. “like how cute i think you look biting your lip when you play the piano. the way i admired how easily you were able to bond with the kids in our class...” he's actually searching his mind for more things to tell you and you find that unbelievably adorable.
but still, something about all of this just doesn't sit right by you. “why'd you wait so long to say something?” he's letting out a soft sigh, stepping back slightly as his hand rubs at the back of his neck. “i'm leaving in the morning, yn. and i'm not coming back. i mean, i liked you from the start but it didn't seem smart to start something with you i knew i wasn't going to be around to finish.” it made sense. he wasn't coming back, this was his last summer before he went to start his life in new york or california or wherever life took him. this was his past now.
“and i knew you had a crush on me too, it just didn't seem fair.” he's explaining with a sigh and you're nodding, because he's right. you hated to admit it, but he was right. now you knew, though. and you still had the rest of the night. there was no sense in moping around about the fact that this would be the last time you'd see each other when you could be reveling in the time you still had.
you're shifting in the water so you're upright again. “you know, i really thought i was embarrassing myself all summer. turns out you were crushing on me just as bad,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him that has him smiling. “no, you were.” he's clarifying and you reach over to slap at his chest. “i was not! you kept a mental inventory of my dress collection,” you're pointing out.
“yeah, but i was subtle. you knocked over an entire box of guitar pics when i touched your hand,” the memory makes him smile, you were wearing a green halter dress than, hair pulled into a sleek bun. and you smelt like caramel. “okay, but-” you try to defend yourself, but he's interrupting you. “and let's not forget the time you spilled juice in your lap when i sat by you,” white dress with red and pink flowers all over it. it was ruined. rip.
you embarrassed yourself in front of him more times than you could count and there was denying that, so you don't try to. “you know what,” you're grumbling, hands pushing the water hard enough to send a large splash toward him. it hits him directly in the face, soaking his hair all over again. and you don't miss the dangerous smile on his lips as he reaches up to wipe the water from your eyes, you're already swimming away before he's opening them.
“oh, you're done.” you hear from behind you and you make the mistake of looking back, catching the way he dips under the water. he's scarily fast. you're letting out a squeal as you rush away from him. he's laughing at how easily he's able to close the distance between the two of you. and you hate this version of him. no, actually that was a lie – you hate how much you like this version of him.
this is the jay everyone else around you apparently knew about it. the one that wasn't watching every word or always stepping back. he was no longer trying so hard to keep up with this stiff image of himself, he was just being. and you hate that it took until the very last day for you to finally experience him this way. you're laughing so hard you can barely defend yourself, screaming when jay is finally catching you. “jay!” you shout as he's easily lifting you over his shoulder and tossing you behind his back into the water.
you're resurfacing quickly, jumping onto his back without a bit of hesitation. jay stumbles forward, laughing as you wrap your around his shoulders trying with all your might to get him under the water. “i'm going to fucking drown you,” the threat comes between laughs, ruined by the fact that you're barely even able to move him. “you?” he says amused, a large hand lifting to wrap around the arm you've got around his neck. “are we sure about that?” the confidence in his voice should've been your warning, but you barely have time to question it before he's shaking you off and right back into the lake.
you're bobbing to the surface with a gasp, shoving wet hair from your face as your eyes find jay standing across from you. he's bent over laughing so hard he's basically wheezing, eyes shut as he clutches his stomach and you're taking the chance. you're jumping on him before he can react, sending both of your bodies under the water. you're quick with swimming to the surface, coughing and laughing as jay wipes water from his eyes. “get over here,” his laugh follows his words, and you're instantly swimming away.
you hear the water shifting behind you. way too fast. and you're swimming straight for the rocks, planning on getting out of the water entirely and getting away from him on foot, but you're barely able to touch them when you feel his arm wrap around your waist. he's pulling you toward him swiftly, your spine colliding with his solid chest – hands braced on the rocks in front of you. you were literally trapped between a rock and a hard place. “i warned you,” his voice is right beside your ear and you're suddenly becoming painfully aware of how close you were.
you can feel the way his breathing has changed against your back, hands dropped down to your hips as he holds your body against his. his grip tightens for half a second as another wave rolls between you. you feel him shift behind you, pulling you close and you're gasping when you realize what he's doing. your ass is pressed right against his crotch, his stiffness pressing against your ass. his head tilts slightly, a hand lifting to push your hair off of one shoulder. “done running from me?” he mumbles but you can't even form a proper sentence right now.
you're nodding, breathless, pulse is racing and slowly you're turning around in his arms, hands landing on his shoulders. he looks like he's ready to devour you. hair dripping into his eyes, cheeks flushed and eyes slowly drinking you in. and for once, he's not looking away when your eyes meet. instead, he's moving in closer. your bodies shift until your back is pressed against the rolls and there is no where else for you go besides into him.
his hand lifts from your body, finger latching onto the front strap of your bikini – right between your breasts. he grins at the sound of your breath hitching, the soft gasp you let out when he's tugging you toward him. the water ripples, your chest hits his and he's backing you back against the rock before his leaning down. you can almost hear his resolve snap before his mouth finds yours and you're immediately melting into it.
overhead, jungwon is launching himself off of the cliff after successfully convincing his group to climb back up. his body rotates easily through the air, the best backflip that he's all summer and he can hear the cheer of his friends as they look up at him. and then he's catching movement, seconds before he's about to hit the water. it's you and jay, further from the rest of the group still. standing a bit too close.
he's eyes are widening when jay is lifting his hand, finger hooking into your bikini top and tugging before he's tugging you toward him. “no way,” the words leave his lips just as he's hitting the water, the splash that follows is huge but he can't even reveal in that as he fights to the surface. he swims to the edge of the lake, pulling himself out of the water as he shoves his wet hair from his face. eyes finding the two of you again, still very much kissing. and when he reaches the top of the cliff again, you're in the same spot.
martin is still standing near the edge of the cliff, sakai trying to convince him to belly flop. lex spots jungwon first, brow furrowing. “you said last jump, why you back?” he nearly slips as he rushes toward the edge of the cliff, pointing aggressively down at the water. “look.” martin follows the direction of his finger, sakai tilting her head to the side as she squints and lex crouches down slightly.
“oh my god.”
jay's groaning against your mouth and the sound shoots straight through you. his mouth moves over your swiftly, tongue pushing it's way past your lips. your brain is reeling, completely drowning in the taste of him. everything in the background just ceased to exist, you were no longer worried about tomorrow, or next summer or even your friends that were right behind you. all you could think, breathe, feel was jay.
your mouth tastes like the blueberry wine coolers you've been drinking, you smell like caramel the way you always do, and the way you feel against him is enough to drive just about anyone insane. your arms are around his neck, chest pressed to his and head tilted as your tongue is rolling into his mouth. he doesn't miss the soft whine you're letting out, the sound muffled by his mouth but his dick responds anyway. pressing firmly against you, you're shifting closer.
jaehyun sits on the dock, hands spread out beside him with viv perched between his legs. she's droning on about her new campus and her new roommate that she was so excited to meet. he's half listening, but his attention seems to drift across the water. a habit he's picked up throughout the summer, sort of like canvasing. checking where everyone had ended up, what you're all doing.
brin is floating in the water by heeseung, talking about their first summer here... six years ago. she had these atrocious bangs and braces, he still hadn't even grown into his nose. it was crazy how to two of them grew up. mia and sunoo sit at the edge of the water, legs kicking in front of them as sunoo gushes about finally being reunited with his boyfriend back home.
jungwon, martin, lex and sakai are still on that damn cliff, but instead of doing flips like they had been all night, they're crouched down staring below them. jaehyun follows their gaze and he's nearly falls over when he's seeing what they see. “oh, no way.”
“baby, i'm telling you a story.” viv says from between his legs, turning to look at her man who was clearly no longer paying attention. his hand reaches for her jaw, turning her head in the direction of you and jay. she's gasping, moving quickly like the queen of gossip he knew she was. she's waving her arms dramatically trying to catch mia's attention and it takes less than a few seconds before she's looking over.
'what?' she mouths and viv is pointing in your direction. her eyes land on the two of you instantly and she's grabbing sunoo's arm, pointing across the lake. sunoo is letting out a loud gasp, leaning forward like he's about to charge right over to you. mia is holding him back just in case. “heeseung,” jaehyun is whisper-shouting, catching the older boy's attention pretty quickly.
'look at jay.' he mouths and heeseung's brows are furrowing before both him and brin are turning around. the grin that spreads on his face can only be described as proud. finally. after three months of pining, finally. he has to hold back from applauding his friend.
jay moves like he's been starving for this. hands dropping to your thighs and squeezing roughly until you're taking the initiative and climbing onto him, legs wrapping easily around his waist. he's sucking your lip into his mouth, teeth grazing it as he presses his hips forward, effectively pinning you against the rocks. your hands have made their way into his damp hair, tangled in the strands.
neither of you have any idea that all of your friends bought front row tickets to your first kiss and it's evident in the way jay is shifting his hips forward, half hard cock pressing against him and you're pressing down just as hard. he's humming out a moan and you feel it throughout your body, heat pooling between your legs. his fingers spread against your skin, slowly sliding up your thighs.
you're pulling back just enough to catch your breath, a soft laugh falling from your lips at the dazed look in his eyes. cheeks flushed pink beneath the moonlight, lips swollen from the kiss, chest rising and falling unevenly. droplets of water fall from the hair that covers his forehead. he doesn't say anything, just stands there taking you in. the sight alone has another giggle falling from you lips and that has his gaze dropping to your lips. he's leaning in again before he can think twice about it.
“let her breathe, let her breathe!” sunoo's voice echoes across the lake and you feel jay's body go rigid against you. his eyes squeeze shut as if he's suddenly remembering where he is and the fact that it wasn't just the two of you out there. “that's it! get your man!” mia is whooping, lifting her drink the air as she cheers for you. your shoulders shake, a horrified laugh escaping you as your forehead falls onto jay's shoulder. the sound is quickly swallowed by the shouts that come from your friends.
jay is letting out a low breath through his nose. his head lifting toward the sky for a second with a shake of his head. and when he's looking back down at you, this is the first time you've ever seen him have his composure rocked. usually so calm and careful, but here he looked almost boyish? obviously blushing as the teasing from your friends filled the air. his hands stayed resting on your thighs the entire time, holding your body close to his as jungwon shouts about having seeing it happen first.
“this is so beautiful!” sakai shouts from the top of the cliff, leaning on martin as tears well in her eyes. clearly more emotional about leaving camp than she let on. martin wraps an arm around her waist before leaning forward where jay is able to see him. “look what y'all did! you made kai-baby cry.” he points down at the girl in his arms who also cried after seeing all the beds made this morning.
“kiss again!” jaehyun is shouting from the dock, earning a supportive whistle from viv. the group erupts at the suggestion, childishly chanting 'kiss' as jay stands there mortified. and you think it's hilarious, he looks so cute embarrassed, trying to hide the fact that his heart wasn't pounding and despite how badly he wanted to kiss you, he was all of a sudden feeling shy.
“come on, the first one didn't count!” brin is shouting through the chants. “how would that not count!?” jay shoots back, finally turning back to look at your friends. his reaction only fueling their chants and you can practically feel the heat coming off of him now. they're all a perfect orchestra. heeseung leads the chants, hands cupped around his mouth as cheers for another kiss. lex is leaning over the edge of the rock, sending exaggerated kissy faces your way. and brin is holding her hands up, making them kiss as her lips pucker.
and despite how desperate jay looks to escape their attention, you're addicted to peer pressure. a laugh slips past your lips as your hand is reaching down, fingers pressing against his jaw gently – just enough to turn his head back toward you. the shouting gets louder instantly. you're leaning down against instantly, mouth slotted against his and he's letting out an involuntarily groan at the feeling. the cheers that follow are obnoxiously deafening and it has your laughs dying against jay's lips.
the cold of the lake slowly becomes unbearable and one by one, you all begin making your way back toward the shore. the like that had been full of shouting and splashing just minutes ago is now quiet behind you, water still. wet footprints trail through the sand, towels stolen and half finished drinks recovered from where they had been abandoned hours ago.
you're settling in front of the fire with jay who swiftly positions himself behind you. the fire crackles in front of you, casting a warm light across the campgrounds. hair and body still wet, but you're settling further into jay's chest until going to find a towel. he doesn't seem to care much either, arm looping around your waist as he holds you close to him.
neither of you seem particularly interested in talking about what just happened, instead you just smile way too wide each time your eyes meet. you can hear brin from across the grounds, hair wrapped in a towel and a large hoodie covering her frame. she's rubbing at her stomach as she speaks. “i'm starving!” heeseung snorts as he walks past, his wet swim trunks in hand a pair of dry short hanging loose on his hips. he's digging through the coolers, without even looking up.
“we still have a bunch of meat left. should we kill it?” he suggests and brin's body immediately perks up. “say swear,” she says, taking quick steps to where he stands. he's letting out a soft laugh, pulling two unopened packets of pork belly from the ice with one hand, three packets of brisket in the other. “swear,” brin is squealing, reaching up to take the packets in hand. “see? this is why you're my favorite.” she says, leading the way toward the grill.
heeseung is rolling his eyes, but following closely behind. “yesterday you said lex was your favorite,” he points out and brin is nodding happily. her hand extends so she's able to boop the tip of heeseung's nose, he's scrunching it immediately. “today it's you.”
you spot sunoo walking toward the fire a few seconds later carrying four drinks, two in each hand. “good news,” he announces in a sing-song tone, lifting the bottles toward his face. “i found a full box,” viv and jaehyun trail behind him, stealing one of the bottles before settling on one of the lawn chairs. sunoo hands you a bottle, before passing the next one to jay and plopping down by the fire. “this is starting to feel final,” you say with a pout and you feel the way jay stiffens behind you.
“we live close! we should plan something, yn.” viv reaches her hands out to you and you're agreeing instantly. you two were only a forty-five minute drive apart, it wouldn't be hard to make plans together before next summer, it was just harder when you weren't just a few doors away. rather than across the country.
lex, mia and jungwon take responsibility for the mess they spent most of the night helping create. jungwon is already collecting empty bottles to recycle, lex is carrying a trash bag that's somehow bigger than she is, while mia complains but about everyone being pigs while she cleans up the leftover food. she's mainly yelling at martin who's pretending he can't hear her from where he still sits at the lake with sakai beside him.
they're sat near the edge of the water in the sand, sakai is wrapped in a large blanket and martin has his head resting on her shoulder, fighting the sleep that's creeping up on him. sunoo is rummaging through his bag for something, his bottle pressed between his knees as he looks. “oh wait!” he's exclaiming loud enough that it catches the attention of the people sitting closest to him.
“what?” jungwon is asking, head peeking up from the trash bag he had been separating.
sunoo is pulling a small stack of envelopes from his bag, holding them up with a wide grin. “we forgot these!” he's standing before anybody call say anything else, shuffling through the envelopes and making his way around the camp to hand them out. they're goodbye letters. you know, because you written eleven of your own. everyone had to, it was camp tradition according to brin.
but as sunoo makes his way through the group, the energy changes, you can feel it. the distribution was like a blaring indicator that it was over. eventually, you'd all have to go to sleep and face tomorrow. the fire was going to die down, heeseung was going to run out of food to make, at some point you'll run out of memories to share, stories to tell. it had to end. and you all had to say goodbye.
“i'm going to miss how you always steal my hoodies, even though you have a man.” sunoo says dramatically to viv while handing her the letter he wrote, he's shooting jaehyun a pointed look at the mention of him and then shuffling to find the letter for him. viv is taking hers with a laugh, tucking it safely beneath her leg. “and i'm going to miss pretending not to notice when you and viv disappear,” jaehyun takes his letter with a roll of his eyes, drink still pressed to his lips.
“you never pretended.” he points out and sunoo is nodding with a laugh. “because you guys are gross,” he sings before turning to continue his rounds.
by the time sunoo is dropping back down beside the fire, you've noticed a handful of your friends disappearing into their cabins and coming back with their own letters. but none of you talk about it, none of you make an announcement to pass them out, it sort of just happens.
the grill sizzles, brin stealing a piece of meat before it's finished cooking and heeseung is meeting her with an individual plate with the letter he wrote her tucked underneath it. she doesn't make a big deal out of it, takes the plate and the letter before plopping down at the picnic table to eat. jungwon complains about people not separating recyclables correctly, pulling glass bottles from the trash bag that should only be filled with food. martin is standing above him, note extended in front of his face.
“if that's another bottle, martin, i'm going to drown you in the lake. and then myself,” jungwon grumbles as he looks up, eyes finding the crisp envelope inches from his nose. he takes it quickly, tucking it into his pocket then goes right back to complaining. martin walks up, making his way back to where he had been sitting with sakai before, only now she's standing.
the blanket he had lent to her folded neatly a sad look on her face as she hands it over, the note she wrote for him resting on top. “i'm going to miss you so much,” she says through a sob and martin is chuckling softly, plucking the note from the top before grabbing the blanket. unlike everyone else, he's tearing into his note immediately despite sakai's protests. his eyes move quickly across the paper before they're slowing, taking in every written word and the meaning behind them.
sakai notices the shift, she recognizes it. “martin?” her head tilts up to get a better look at his face but he's quickly looking away, folding the note and tucking it back into it's envelope. “i'm fine,” he rushes out, wiping at his eyes with his knuckle. “let's go help clean up,”
a note seems to fall from the sky as jungwon passes, hitting your knee and landing on jay's lap. “read it away from me,” he mumbles before disappearing with his trash bag. jay is picking it up with a small smile. leave it to jungwon to literally run from any type of emotional exchange. “let me go put this away,” jay says, nudging at you leg gently and you're standing to allow him to slip from behind you and disappear into his cabin. you take the chance to slip away as well, grabbing the stack of letters you had spent the past week writing from underneath your pillow.
jay catches heeseung on his way to the bathroom, “hyung, wait.” heeseung's turning to the sound of jay's voice, eyes instantly landing on the thick envelope in his hand. “what is that like ten pages?” he asks with a laugh, reaching his hand out to take it. “it's only like seven,” he defends and heeseung is shaking his hand, tearing into the letter before jay can say anything of it.
“you know i have to read it out loud,” he says through a chuckle. jay is rolling his eyes, both hands pushing his hair back on his head as he feels his cheeks darkening. “you're so embarrassing,” he says with a shake of his head, but he doesn't fight it. heeseung would just find him and read it out loud later, he did it every summer for the past six years.
he's straightening his back and clearing his throat before bringing the note up to eye level, reading it like it's a scroll. “hyung. i tried keeping this short...” he lowers the letter to shoot a deadpan expression toward the younger boy. “seven pages?” he teases and jay is waving him off with a roll of his eyes. “just hurry up and read it,” much to his surprise, heeseung continues reading. “thank you for spending the past years putting up with me. though, i've been here longer than you... i never truly had someone to look up to until you arrived. we're the oldest, so everyone looks up to us. but i'm thankful i have you to look up to too.” jay doesn't miss the way the playfulness leaves heeseung's tone. realization that this was the last letter finally hitting him.
“i don't know if anybody else realizes how much this place has your fingerprints on it. you came up with most of the things we know call tradition, you've helped me write more songs than i can count. i even heard martin repeat one of your inside jokes his first week here... half the things the campers think have always existed started because of you, you're the blueprint.” heeseung pauses to grin because he had been screaming that for the past four years and finally he was getting the recognition for it.
the letter continues on like that, highlighting the memories they made together in the past six years, how close they've become. jay's plans for the future and how he promises to keep in touch, though, no one ever really did. but heeseung can tell that he meant it. the only difference is, heeseung was leaving too. not for the summer, forever. they both were on different paths of their lives now and seeing each other every summer was going to be a thing of the past.
he doesn't ruin the moment by pointing that out, though.
“you've been apart of almost every version of my adult life and it's going to be so hard imagining moving into my next phase without you standing ten feet away making an unnecessary comment. i don't really know how to end this, because i feel there shouldn't be an end to us. to our friendship. so i'll just say, thank you for being my friend and i'll see you soon.” heeseung looks up at jay to find him trying to look anywhere else, he's shaking his head laughing softly while flipping the pages over in his hands.
there's a few sentences scribbled on the back of the last one. “oh! there's more,” sarcasm drips from his words and jay's letting out a laugh. “i had a lot to say, shut up.” heeseung continues reading. “ps. stop giving relationship advice. even if you're right 99% of the time, stop it. your 'i told you so' face is so annoying. but, you were right again... i regret not telling yn how i feel. and i regret not kissing her when i had the chance,”
heeseung is looking up with a knowing smirk on his face, brow arched and jay is shoving at his shoulder. “that face! you're so irritating,” he says through a laugh while heeseung is carefully folding the note back up. “you kissed her, though. what changed your mind?” judging from the end of his note, it's clear that jay had no intention to actually make a move with you. but he saw the way jay kissed you in the water and how he's been all over you all night. this jay was very different from letter jay.
jay is clapping his hand on heeseung's shoulder with a shake of his head, “those fucking dresses, man.”
the night officially starts to settle around you. letters distributed and tucked away safely. the fire that had been roaring all evening has started to die down, only crackling whenever a piece of wood breaks. the loud shouts of your friends have dwindled into soft murmurs heard throughout the grounds. each one of you losing the battle against sleep, it was impossible to keep fighting it.
the food is gone, the coolers are empty. jungwon has organized every single piece of trash he could get his hands on. there was nothing left to do, there was nothing left to say. sakai and sunoo disappear first, walking into the bathroom with arms linked to do their skincare routine together for the last time of the summer. brin is a few steps behind them, yawning loudly and rubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm.
viv is curled up in jaehyun's lap, his hoodie working as a blanket as her head rests beneath his chin. every few minutes, she'll mumble something into his chest and he'll reach down to smooth a hand over her hair. jaehyun is still wide awake, talking quietly with jay from across the fire. you still sit comfortably in jay's lap but you're zoned out staring at the burning embers of the fire.
jungwon, martin and heeseung have migrated into their cabin, changed into their pajamas and laying on their beds. they talk softly, finding random things to say as they fight off the inevitable sleep. their voices drift through the open window every so often before dissolving back into sleepy laughter. across the lake, lex and mia have claimed the hammock and have been laying there with the past twenty minutes. neither of them have managed to finish a complete sentence, settling for quiet sighs and toying with each other's fingers.
jay feels you shiver against him for the fourth time and it has him realizing rubbing his hands over your arms was useless in warming you up. “you cold?” he asks, head tilting to the side so he can look at you. you're tired but you're fighting it, long curls pulled in a bun at the top of your head and pretty orange dress doing nothing against the cool night air. you're turning to look at him, head bobbing in a nod.
“i have a sweater in the car, should we...” he says it because he wants to spend more time together, that part is obvious. he could've very much you suggest you go to bed, put on warm sweats of your own and call it a night. but in reality, he wasn't ready for his night with you to end and neither were you, which is why you're standing to follow him.
the walk to his jeep isn't long, he parked close to the entrance out of his need for efficiency. he was set to leave early tomorrow morning, had spent the better half of the day loading up his car. it only made sense that it would be parked a few feet away. his arm settles over your shoulders as you walk, a comfortable silence falling over you and you're finally finding the courage to ask him what you've been wondering for the past hour and a half.
“did you forget to write me a letter?” you try to keep your tone playful, masking the echoing doubts in your mind. everyone had a letter, each passed out one by one and you watched jay hand out a letter to each one of your friends. yet, the one that he should've written for you never came. you don't miss the smile that breaks onto his features, a soft laugh falling from his lips as he shakes his head. “no, god no. i just couldn't stop rewriting it,” that peaks your interest. because, yes there must've been unspoken feelings when he sat down to write it, but actually rewriting it felt different.
it took you a good three hours to decide what you were going to say to him. everything you decided just felt too elementary, but even still you only wrote one draft. and that was the one tucked away somewhere in his cabin. “you did? how many did you write?” you're reaching his car just as the question leaves the lips and he shrugs, pulling the car door open before leaning in.
“nine.” he says it so casually, half his body in his car, your eyes are widening anyway. “nine!? you wrote me nine letters!? jay...” he's standing with a black sweater clutched in his hands. it's one you recognize right away, he's worn it enough for you to. just a simple black hoodie with 'miami' written in bold red letters, the word cut off by the deep-v cut into the neckline. he's easily pulling it over your head, guiding your arms into it.
it's such a simple gesture but it's so jay that your heart flutters. hand reaching down to find the side of his neck as he straightens the hem of his sweater against your thighs. you're gently pulling him toward you, to plant a soft kiss to his lips which he returns instantly, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “nine letters?” you're saying again as he pulls away and his face breaks into a soft smile.
“relax, you're only getting one.” he's reaching back into his car, rummaging through a bag before pulling out the folded piece of paper. number nine. the final draft of his goodbye letter to you, but it felt outdated now for some reason. still, he's handing it over to you with a sad smile. “read it later,” he feels the need to clarify, traumatized by heeseung's traditional presentation.
you're tucking the letter safely into the pocket of his hoodie and silence falls between the two of you. it's a charged silence that holds the words that neither of you are willing to say. instead his eyes stay trained on you as your eyes drift into the back of his jeep. slowly, you're stepping forward to get a better look. and the sight makes your chest tighten. boxes stacked neatly on top of one another, duffel bags shoved into every available corner of his trunk. his guitar. his backup guitar. binders upon binders of sheet music. seven years packed into the back of a car. your breath catches in your throat as you're eyes shift to look back at him, body leaning against the frame of the open car door.
“so... this is really it, huh?” jay follows your gaze, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he nods. “yeah, i guess so,” you feel the way your heart drops, which is stupid, because you had known he was leaving. for the past three months it's all he could talk about. grad school, apartment hunting, moving dates. the weather in his new city, he was never not talking about leaving. but somehow seeing it packed into the back of the car hit differently. it felt real. “it's like you fit your whole cabin into your car, looks weird...”
jay lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, hand lifting to rest just above your head against the car. “tell me about it. my cabin looks weirder, all empty.” your eyes drift back to the boxes, trying hard not to picture how his cabin would look empty. you poked your head in too many times to see if he was around to now think of the reality of him never being around again.
“you did this all day?” you say it just to make conversation, because you have nothing else to say that didn't feel totally depressing. and jay seems to catch on, because he is playing along. he nods simply, lips pulling into his mouth as his eyes drift back to you. “yeah, some of it yesterday.”
“you cried, huh?” you tease and that manages to pull another pretty laugh for him, “i absolutely did not,” he defends halfheartedly, but you're not buying it. “oh, now i know you cried. you're such a liar,” your eyes narrow up at him and that has him laughing even harder and for a second it almost feels normal again. but then your eyes are drifting back, catching sight of his guitar case again.
you're changing the subject quickly. “you know...” your voice trails off, forcing a smile on your lips. “i thought you hated me for like the first two weeks.” jay's head snaps toward you so fast it makes you laugh, his brows raised high toward his hairline. “are you serious?” he says through a laugh, your hand slaps against his chest. “yes! did you forget about how you'd avoid me? and ignore me, even if i was talking directly to you.”
he's laughing, eventually nodding along. because it was true. the first few weeks he couldn't even be around you without his brain short-circuiting and when he'd try to say something, anything – he found himself getting tongue tied more often than not. but still, “you were impossible to ignore. but, yes. i did try.” he had it in his head if he just didn't talk to you, then his feelings wouldn't grow. he was so wrong.
“you'd walk into a room and all of a sudden everyone's attention would be on you. including mine.” his eyes drop to his hoodie and how it swallows your frame, covering up one of your many pretty dresses. then slowly back up to your face, you're staring up at him with the same heart eyed expression you've been giving him all summer. “you flirted with me constantly too, even when i tried not to look your way,” you're laughing, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.
“i had a feeling it would end up being effective,” you grin and he's smiling, hand lifting to rest on the small of your back. “trust me, it was. it was all i could talk about with heeseung,” but never to you. he never gave away to the slightest bit of interest and that drove you insane every single day. it almost bothered you more that he waited until the last day to finally say something. he could've just left you clueless, able to move on and say that you tried. because you did try, so hard.
and for some reason him waiting until there was no time left to meet you halfway just didn't feel fair. the pout is forming on your lips before you can fight it, hand resting on his cheek. “i wouldn't change a second of this summer, truly. i loved meeting everyone and spending my days with you.” it's hard to ignore the sadness in your eyes, the obvious way you're fighting back tears as you speak. “but, fuck, jay... i wish we had more time,”
he knows exactly what you mean without you having to say it. you spent all summer wanting him, loudly. but every time he caught himself wanting you back, he'd find a reason to keep his distance. to walk away, to play it safe. he'd find a reason not too look too long, not too linger in conversations with you. especially if they were about your shared love for music.
he was so strategic in the way he interacted with you, careful not to let himself enjoy the way your fit lit up whenever you spotted him hanging out in his cabin. he had spent months convincing himself that this was the right way, that he was doing the right thing. the smart thing. that all of this would be easier if he kept his distance, and maybe that would've been true if tonight never happened.
because standing here now, knowing exactly what it feels like to kiss you, makes what should've been an easy goodbye feel impossible. “well,” he's saying with a soft smile, arm lifting so his wrist is in view. and you follow his gaze to the watch on his wrist. “it's only... 2:49AM. there's still five hours and eleven minutes until it's over.” he says with a proud smile, probably at his mental math and that has you laughing softly. “what should we do with that time?” his finger taps at his chin and you're tilting your head to the side.
without missing a beat, you're leaning up to press your lips against his. he's kissing back instantly. his hands fall down to grasp your hips, easily pulling your body against his. your worries about tomorrow seem to melt away as soon as his lips are on yours, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as you hold him to you. jay kisses you with a rushed, starved almost desperate need and it makes it difficult for you to focus on anything but him.
his tongue is pushing past your lips easily, brushing against yours before he's changing his mind and catching your lower lip between his teeth instead. you're gasping, the sound pulling a soft chuckle from his mouth. it dies on your tongue. “you're so perfect,” he sighs, hand resting against the side of your face as he leans back enough to look at you. he's easily tilting your head to the side with his hand, revealing more of your neck to him.
his head is dropping to the side, soft lips finding your skin. salty from the lake but he sucks kisses against the length of it. “jay,” you're gasping, hand reaching out to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him close. and his arm tightens around your waist, holding you tight against him as his lips roam your skin. he's focusing his lips just above your collarbone, sucking the skin into his mouth and it has your head lulling back. his body shifts, hands tracing the curves of your body before he's carefully lifting you into the backseat.
it's cramped between all his bags and boxes, and the idea of his new life. but he's climbing in behind you, letting the door slam behind him. closing the two of you in to your own private space and you're on him instantly. his back hits the door from the force of your lips, a soft laugh falling from both of your lips. you kiss him desperately, every push of your lips screaming finally and all he can do is try to keep up. he groans as your hands sneak underneath the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging over his stomach.
your tongue pushes and twists against his, his hands shoving his hoodie and your dress out of the way. his fingers spread over the skin of your ass, squeezing gently and the moan you let out has his dick jumping. jay is easily pulling you further onto him with the grip he has on your ass. it's so uncomfortable, you've got your legs on either side of his waist, he's hanging half way off of the seat, back pressed against the door. all of the crap from his cabin surround your bodies, making it that much more difficult to move. yet, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
not when you were hovering over him like this, panting into his mouth while pushing your ass back into the palms of his hands. “oh, fuck.” he's sighing when your lips trail down the length of his jaw, you follow the same pattern as he had before. sucking kisses into is skin, before grazing your teeth over it. focusing on a particular sensitive bit while your hips grind down onto his. a low, untamed growl catches in his throat as he feels the way your body moves against his.
the thin material of your bikini bottoms doing very little to mask the wet heat dripping from between your legs and onto his shorts. his head dips down to find your lips, mouth covering yours quickly and he wastes no time with licking into your mouth. jay's easily pulling you into a deep, needy, almost frantic rhythm that has your head spinning. you're moaning, hips pressing roughly against his. the length of his cock presses delicious against your clothed clit and your hips roll toward his, body shuddering as pleasure spreads throughout your core.
“oh my god,” you're whining into his mouth, hips moving frantically against his. he does his best to lift his hips to meet yours, fingers digging in to the flesh of your ass as heat rises up his neck. “you feel so... holy shit,” he's grunting, head falling back to rest against the door as you basically bounce on his lap. through hooded eyes, he watches the way your body moves against his. the needy roll of your hips paired with the look on your face just makes him harder.
you've got your lip tucked between your teeth, head dipped back as your hands travel up your torso. they find your breasts almost instantly and he watches as you squeeze and toy with them through fabric. he finds it hot how you refused to take off his sweater despite how much you probably want to. your hips move swiftly, pretty moans filling the cramped car as his hard length drags between your folds.
his hips lift to meet each one of your movements, using the grip on your body to press you down harder against him. every last bit of restraint has snap, he's no longer able to hold himself back. chest rising and falling in untimed breaths as a flush creeps onto his cheeks. he tries and fails to hold his whimpers back, but the way you're moving just feels too good. or he's just too sensitive, either way the pressure builds at the pit of his stomach and it's impossible to ignore.
and to make matters worse, jay can tell you're close too just from the unfocused timing of your hips and the helpless whines you're letting out. “jay,” you're gasping, fist clutching the fabric of his shirt as he watches the way your eyes roll back, your thighs squeezing together the best you can with his body between them. and he's quickly deciding he'd rather feel you cum, rather than see it.
“wait, baby... wait.” jay is shifting up, hands moving down to your thighs, stilling your movements. and he finds the pout that takes over your features especially cute, he's pressing a soft kiss to it without thinking. “i want to feel you,” he says simply. he's carefully leaning you back, your body resting against the boxes behind you as he moves to hover above you now.
his fingers sneak underneath the hem of your dress, latching onto the strings of your bottoms as his eyes drag up to look at you. you're shooting a nervous smile in his direction that has his heart softening. “is this okay?” he's asking softly, slowly tugging at the strings. you're nodding quickly, “please, jay.” you're breathing out, hips lifting off of the car seat to make it easier for him.
jay's letting out a soft chuckle before dragging your bottoms down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. his eyes drop down to catch the way your folds glisten, large hands pushing the hoodie and your dress up toward your belly button. “fuck,” he sighs with a shake of his head and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, feeling unbelievably vulnerable under his lustful gaze. he's leaning forward, nose dragging along the length of your neck before his tongue pushes out to drag against your skin.
his hand slides expertly between your legs as his mouth moves to suck a hickey into your skin. your legs spread almost instinctively, moaning as his fingers trace between your folds. “you're so fucking wet,” he's groaning, fingers pushing slowly past your entrance. the warmth of your pussy surrounds his fingers as he slides in all the way to the knuckle. your hips lift to meet his hand and he's grinning down at you. “does it feel good? having my fingers stretch you out?” he asks softly as he curls his fingers inside you.
your walls clamp down around them, head bobbing in a nod. “yes... f-fuck, jay. it feels so good,” you're admitting. jay's fingers thrust deep inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit before he's rubbing slow cirlces against it. it's not long before he's falling into a steady rhythm, free hand lifting to hold your hips still as his fingers fuck into you. you're whining softly, legs spreading wide for him. “jay...” you're pleading, yet you have no idea what you're asking for.
his eyes lift to find yours, head tilting to the side slightly. “what, baby?” he grins, speeding up the movement of his hand and easily pulling a loud gasp from your lips. the sound of his chuckle follows, his eyes dropping back to your pussy. you're basically dripping around his fingers walls pulsing with each thrust. “i need... more, jay please.” your words break on a desperate cry, his fingers scissoring inside of you as his thumb presses harder against your clit.
“whatever you want,” he says, but the truth was he couldn't wait much longer either. not with this insistent throb between his legs, and the way you were looking up at him, so needy and ready. he had waited long enough for a moment like this with you, he was done waiting. jay pulls his hand away slowly, hands flying to push his shorts out of the way. his wet hand wrapping around his thick length and you watch as he strokes himself slowly, coating his shaft with your arousal.
the sight makes your mouth water. he stays knelt there for a few moments, just rubbing his hand over himself and watching you and the intensity in his stare makes your body hot. “spread your legs for me,” he's saying after a minute and you're separating your knees without a word, pussy clenching at the groan he lets out. “jay. fuck me, please.” you're whining, hand dropping down the length of your body to spread your folds for him, showing him just how badly you needed him.
he's leaning forward quickly, mouth covering yours in a needy kiss as the bulbous head of his cock bumps against your fingers. he takes his time with lining himself up with your tight hole, pushing his hips forward slowly until he's feeling you stretch around him. you have to remind yourself to relax as he pushes forward, breathing through the pain that comes with each inch of him. your fingers clutch his hair the moment that he's bottoming out and he feels the way your body stiffens.
“relax, baby. take your time.” he soothes, hand stroking your hair gently as he watches you adjust. he leans down to press soft kisses against your skin. switching between sucking hickeys into your neck and twisting his tongue with yours. he waits patiently for you to loosen up for him, but the moment he feels you shifting, he's taking that as his go and thrusting his hips forward. “fuck!” you shout, back arching as much as it can and he's pinning you back down with his hips.
slowly, he's pulling his hips back, allowing you to feel every rigid inch of his cock. “you're squeezing me so tight,” he says before he's quickly slamming back in. your body jerks, hips lift, whines falling from your lips as he falls into a steady pace. your hands are on his shoulders, nails dragging against his skin. jay fucks into you slowly and incredibly deep. his grip is tight on your waist, dragging your body down onto him with each thrust. his face remains buried in your neck, mouthing at your skin as his cock splits you open.
you feel him so deeply, he's no longer holding back and the desperate movement of his hips has an electric need shooting through your body. you needed to be closer. needed to feel him deeper. needed his hands on you like this forever. his teeth bite into your skin, muffling the long groan threatens to slip out and you're matching it with a needy whimper. his thrusts become brutal, hips snapping against yours in a overwhelmingly rough pace. your nails drag over the muscles of his back, legs spreading wider for him as desperate cries fill the car.
“jay, oh my god. i'm gonna...” you don't know if you should push him away or pull him closer, heat spreading throughout your body as the knot at the pit of your stomach tightens. jay keeps up with the pace as best he can, hand dropping down to find your clit again and he rubs figure eights into the sensitive bud. his head lifts so he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure.
your orgasm tears through your body, eyes rolling all the way to the back of your head as your back arches off of the seat. it's unlike anything you've felt before, body going numb as his hips continue to move between your thighs – fucking you through it. “god, look at you.” he sighs, burying himself deep inside of you, balls slapping against your ass with each thrusts. he moves until you're coming down for your high, watching the way your body relaxes in his arms. and only then is he pulling back, slowly drawing his hips away from your body and twisting his body so he's sitting upright on the seats.
“fuck,” he breathes, hand wrapping over his cock to keep it from falling limp. “i had the craziest cramp in my leg,” he says through a laugh, eyes shifting to find you. you're half way off of the seat, back resting against a box and hair falling messily around your face. “you okay?” he asks, smiling softly the second you're nodding. his free hand reaches out toward you, beckoning you over with a grin.
you're lifting slowly, allowing his arm to wrap around his waist and for her to tug you onto his lap. “come ride me, i'm almost there,” there's quiet begging in his tone as he lifts your body slightly, enough to pull you into his lap. your heart jumps, body freezing as you stare over at him with wide eyes. “oh, uhm... i've never? i don't think i know how...” you feel the heat rising in your cheeks and jay's brow furrows at your words.
“you've never rode someone before?” he asks because it sounds almost insane. of course you've rode someone before. he takes in the look in your eye, the shy blush that darkens your cheeks. “well, no... that was my first time,” you say sheepishly and his eyes are flying open, his hand falling from his cock to push his hair back on his forehead. “what?” he says it, even though he's positive he heard you clearly.
he just couldn't believe it. didn't even stop and consider it. and now he feels terrible because he just took your virginity like it was nothing. like it was something you could just hand out. it should've been special, he should've made it special. “yn, you can't lose your virginity in the back of my car!?” you're laughing at his distress, the wrinkle between his brow as they furrow in pure worry.
you don't know why you find him so cute this way. your shoulders lift in a shrug, hands settling on his shoulders. “too late?” you're saying through your laughter and he's shooting you a pointed look. “not funny, yn. i should've been gentle,” you're quick to shake your head, hands covering his cheeks as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips. he kisses you back slowly, hands resting on your waist much lighter now. you're pulling back slowly, head tilting slightly.
“come on, you already took it. don't clam up now,” you're leaning down to plate a kiss to his lips that has his worries melting away. your tongue wrapping around his, fingers curling in his hair as you lift your hips to climb further up on his lap. his head rests on the back of the chair when you pull away, looking up at you through his lashes as your hand reaches down wrapping around his cock. his hips twitch as you position his head at your entrance, “teach me,” you say with a pout and just like that his restraint is gone.
again.
–
you're not heading back to jay's cabin until the sun is already peaking over the mountains. it's weirdly empty, just like you imagined. his bed made in the middle of the room. he doesn't let you dwell on the look of it for too long, not wanting you to sleep too deep in your thoughts while you're having such a good time. he's pulling you into bed beside him, easily tucking your body into his as the two of you finally drift off to sleep.
and you stay like that in his arms for god knows how long. your head on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist. he doesn't dare move, even when sleep finally takes over. which doesn't last as long as he would have hoped, his alarm blaring at exactly 7:15am. he's careful not to wake you as he slips out of bed, showering and changing his clothes as you shift and pull at his sheets. you don't even budge when he's making his bed, or when he's taking the last bag out of his room and into his car.
there's so much more he wanted to say. and he hated that he had no more time. for a long while, jay just stands there. keys in hand as his eyes scan over his empty cabin, save for you curled beneath his blankets. the morning sun peaks in through his window, golden streaks fanning across the bed. and you don't even shift. you're dead asleep, drooling onto his pillows and the sight has a soft laugh falling from his lips.
“wow,” he's shocked because even like this, smushed face and messy hair – you still look so pretty. he should leave, he needed to get on the road before the gps estimated a different arrival time. there were a list of things that he needed to get done back at his apartment before he was heading to the airport, he needed to leave. instead, he's making his way back into the cabin. setting his keys back on his desk before pulling out the blank notebook from one of the drawers, stealing a page.
he starts writing. the words coming to him much easier now that he's no longer hold back. he's ran out of reasons not to tell you exactly how he feels. he spent the last nine drafts trying to sound reasonable and failed every single time. because, this wasn't reasonable. falling for you was the most unreasonable thing that he has ever done, but he loved every second of it.
jay doesn't stop once as he writes, not a single typo. his feelings hit the page unfiltered, for the first time all summer. he's saying everything that he's wanted to, to you, about you. for you. he doesn't make a single edit. every for sentences, his eyes would drift over to where you lay, curled in his hoodie and drowning in his sheets. and then three more sentences would come to mind, two more after that. he writes until he's filled the entire page and then some more on the back.
once he's finished he's folding it carefully, slipping it into an envelope before scribbling something across the front. he's moving to stand beside the bed one last time, setting the note on his empty pillow before his eyes drift over to you. the urge to wake you up hit him intensely, he wanted so badly to say goodbye properly, to steal one more kiss, one more touch, one more hour. but he knew that was wrong. that he'd end up wanting to stay longer, actually seeing him walk away might hurt you more.
so he doesn't. he just sets his hand on your head softly, brushing your hair back so he's able to press a soft kiss to your forehead. his lips linger there for a moment, silently hoping that you'd wake up on your own. and when you don't, he's standing. he grabs his keys from his desk, takes one final look at you, before he's heading out of the cabin, closing the door tight behind him.
you're stirring awake two hours later. the first thing you notice is that you feel warm, surrounded by jay's familiar scent. you sink further into the mattress, sunlight spilling from the windows and warming your skin and for a few seconds you don't open your eyes. instead, you nuzzle yourself into jay's warmth as moments from the night before flood your memory.
playing with jay in the lake. kissing jay against the rocks. jay holding you by the fire. walking with jay to his car, his arm around your shoulders. jay fucking you in that same car, in so many different ways. you could still feel the stretch of him between your legs. a smile spreads across your lips, remembering exactly how he felt beneath you as you rode him for the first time ever. and you're suddenly filled with the need to try it again. to feel him again.
you're reaching out before your mind can tell you differently, eyes snapping open when your hand is met with nothing but emptiness. your eyes find the clock sat on his nightstand, reading the flashing numbers that stare back at you. 10:17AM. your stomach drops, a deep frown replacing the sleepy smile you had been wearing before. “oh,” you're sighing as realization hits, jay was gone.
you knew he'd be leaving early, he told everyone that he was going to be gone before anyone was really waking up. but despite knowing, not seeing him beside you still stings. slowly you're sitting up in his bed, the over-sized hoodie shifting over your shoulders as you reach to rub at your eyes. everything feels heavy, your heart thumps uselessly in your chest as your eyes scan over the room.
he was really gone. the bathroom had been emptied out this morning, his desk was completely cleared off, posters torn down and folded neatly. there was no trace of him left in this room besides you and the fact that he took everything and left you behind has your throat tightening. your eyes drift back toward his pillow, eyes furrowing at the sight of the crisp envelope that laid on top of his blue pillowcase. you're reaching for it quickly, reading over the words written across the front of the envelope. “make it ten versions,” you read and you don't waste a second before tearing the note open.
❝ yn.
i've written this goodbye letter to you so many times that i almost forgot the point of it. the first few letters sounded like i was giving you a college recommendation... then i got too emotional about leaving the music lodge in your care. the third version was so embarrassingly raw that if you ever somehow read it i'd most likely evaporate where i stand. the one that I gave you, version nine, was the one that felt the most honest to me. at least at that time. now, it just feels like it was written by someone else.
someone that was still pretending he hadn't fell for you. i spent the last three months pretending that i wasn't looking for you in every room. pretending that i was fine with keeping things professional. wasted so much time pretending that i didn't feel the same way that you did and i think i owe you an apology for that. i owe you a lot of apologies, honestly.
i'm sorry that i waited until the last day to make a move. i'm realizing now, seated at my desk and you snoring behind me that, that was the wrong move. i should've said something sooner, i shouldn't have let you wonder if you were the only one with the crush. or at least stuck to my guns, said nothing, and left quietly. because this sucks so much worse. leaving after just one night of getting to know how it feels to be with you feels horrible. but i don't regret it, don't get me wrong. i'm happy that our last night together was every bit of perfect, i just wish i got it together sooner. for the both of us.
and that brings me to my next apology. i'm sorry that you spent all summer being brave enough for the both of us. you were so loud about your feelings, you never hid, you flirted with me in front of everyone despite their teasing. you made your feelings so clear and gave me every opportunity to meet you halfway and i kept coming up with excuses not to.
i convinced myself that keeping my distance would be best for the both of us. there was no point in starting something that i couldn't finish, but i realize now i was too focused on that small detail. because while the future was clear and we both knew this summer would end, we could've still enjoyed each other for three full months rather than one night. that's my fault, i'm sorry i robbed us of that.
for the last seven years, this place has been my home away from home. i know the walls, i know the smells, every last detail is engraved in my brain like a sixth sense. so naturally, i figured no longer having it as a constant would be the hardest thing of all, the thing that i'd miss most. but now i'm realizing (again) that i was wrong, because what i'm going to miss most is you.
i'm going to miss the way your face lights up when you talk about music, the way you manage to make every conversation last twice as long as they should. your laugh, your smile, the taste of your lips. i'm going to miss how warm you felt sleeping against me. and most of all, i'm going to miss all the things that i want to experience with you and now know it's too late.
fuck, i hate that it's too late...
for the first time ever, i have no idea what will happen next. because as you read this, i'm probably already on the road, heading home or toward the airport and even though, i know that has always been the plan, i can't help but wonder if i should be doing something different. or if it's stupid to make such huge life changes over someone you just met. for the first time ever, i don't trust my own plan and that scares the shit out of me.
but i kind of like it, because if there's one thing this summer taught me, one thing that you taught me... it's that all of life's best moments happen when you stop trying to control them. it took me until last night to realize it, that's why i kissed you when i did. none of that was part of the plan, but i'm so happy that i let myself enjoy being with you, even if it was just once.
i know i don't have to tell you this, but don't worry too much about me... enjoy your school year, enjoy your life. go on all the dates, make new friends and be as happy as you can possibly be. i hope that one day the universe will bring us back together, but in the meantime... keep my hoodie safe. it looks better on you, anyway.
pairing : bf!jungwon x gf!reader, platonic!enhypen x fem!reader | synopsis : when you got with jungwon, the rest of the members came with him | genre : fluff, established relationship, slice-of-life | wc : 1.8k | 💌 |
When you said yes to being Jungwon’s girlfriend after months of late night talks, playful teasing, and stolen moments that made your heart race, you thought you were only getting one boyfriend.
Oh how wrong you were.
Nobody warned you that dating Jungwon, meant dating the rest of Enhypen. Just not romantically.
The moment you and Jungwon announced you were dating, the other six members decided you were their responsibility too.
heeseung —
Even before getting together with Jungwon, Heeseung had acted like an older protective brother. He always made sure you were eating well, taking breaks from studying, and no one was messing with you.
“Good morning, y/n.” you heard as you were walking into the kitchen, lifting your head and seeing Heeseung already eating ramyeon.
“Morning,” you mumbled sleepily.
Heeseung looked you up and down once before narrowing his eyes. “You just woke up?”
“Yeah?”
“What time did you sleep?”
You froze, already knowing you were going to get scolded. “Why?”
“y/n.” He said, his voice becoming serious.
“…three” you quietly said, but he still heard you.
“Yah, y/n you can’t be sleeping that late. You have class today, Jungwons not gonna like you sleeping so late and then going to class tired.” Heeseung sighed out.
You groaned and dropped your head onto the kitchen counter. “Then don’t tell him.” you said, your head now up. Heeseung reached over and lightly flicked your forehead. “He cares about you, even if I don’t tell him, he’ll find out.”
He stood up and walked to the fridge, grabbing two water bottles.
A moment later, he returned and placed it infront of you. “Here. Drink this and eat something before you go.”
“Yes dad.” you teased.
“Don’t call me that.”
You laughed as he shook his head.
From the hallway, a tired Jungwon suddenly appeared. “What’s going on?”
Heeseung pointed at you, “She slept at three.”
Jungwon jaw dropped, walking to you and hugging you from behind. “Babe, at three? What did I tell you.”
You got up quickly, and escaped his hug, “Okay, bye! I’m leaving!” you yelled, before they could start lecturing you more.
The last thing you heard was Heeseungs laughter, and Jungwon shouting your name.
jay —
Jay remembered everything about you. Your favorite dessert, your favorite drink, your favorite store. But that’s just how Jay had always been. He remembers everything about his members, it made sense that he remembers everything about his friends girlfriend.
You were hanging out in the dorm living room while the members were scattered around doing their own things. Jay had just come back from running errands and dropped a small shopping bag infront of you. “This is for you.”
You looked up from your phone confused, you never remembered asking him for anything. “Huh?”
Jay nodded towards the bag. “Open it.” Confused you opened it. Inside was a sweater, but not just any sweater.
It was a sweater you had been wanting for a while now. Your eyes widened.
“I saw you looking at it a couple weeks ago.”
“And you remembered?!” you asked, still in shock.
Jay looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You liked it.”
Before you could respond, Jake leaned over the couch, “That’s insane hyung.”
“Seriously,” Sunoo agreed, “I can’t even remember what I ate yesterday.”
“I do,” Jay replied.
Nobody was suprised.
You laughed, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to buy it for me Jay, but thank you!”
“Wow Jay hyung, you buy stuff for my girlfriend, but not me.” Jungwon dramatically said. Fake sulking.
“Oh please, he spends more on you than anyone babe.” you exposed.
jake —
Jake had been excited about your relationship before it had even officially started.
When he noticed Jungwon liked you, he became his biggest supporter.
He was the easiest to get close with. The moment he found out you liked legos, you became even closer.
“Oh! hey y/n, you’re here early.” Jake said from the couch when he heard you come in. “Yeah, Jungwon texted me he’s going to be 20 minutes late and to just come here.”
“Wanna build a new lego set with me?” he said, grinning, already knowing you were going to say yes.
“…Go get it.”
Ten minutes later, you were sitting on the floor with pieces spread out everywhere. “Pass me the blue one.” Jake handed you the piece.
“Thanks.”
When Jungwon came back, he didn’t expect to see you and Jake on the floor. “Um, what’s happening?”
“Oh wonie! you’re here!” you said, getting up from the floor and hugging him tightly. “Eww, go do that on your own time.” Jake said.
“Shut up.” you and Jungwon said at the same time.
“Oh wow just jump me then.”
“Back to my question though, what are you guys doing?” Jungwon asked.
“Oh Jake got a new set, and we decided to work on it while waiting for you.” you answered, still holding on to him.
“Want to join?” Jake asked, but by asking to join he actually meant just sitting down and watching you both.
sunghoon —
At first, it was awkward between you and Sunghoon. Not because of anything personal but because he was more quiet than the rest.
But he slowly became someone who was always there for you.
If Jungwon wasn’t at the dorms that day, and you wanted to go on a walk. Sunghoon would accompany you.
When you need advice, Sunghoon would be there.
It became a normal thing between you guys. He tried to act like he didn’t care by making up excuses.
Jungwon had practice running late and you were sitting down on the dorm couch feeling a little restless. You texted Jungwon. No reply.
You sighed and stood up. A couple of seconds later— “Where are you going?” a voice came from the kitchen. You looked over, seeing Sunghoon staring at you, “Just going to walk outside for a bit.”
He nodded like he didn’t care. “…It’s cold out.”
“I’ll be fine.” you replied.
He didn’t answer, just grabbed his jacket and put his shoes on. “I’m going out anyway.”
You raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t ask you to come.”
“I know.”
Another pause. “…I just need some fresh air.”
You tried not to smile, “Alright then, let’s go.”
sunoo —
Sunoo became your best friend immediately.
He was also very affectionate, the kind of affection where you forget you weren’t always friends.
The first time you realized it, you were sitting in the living room, wearing Jungwons hoodie while scrolling on tiktok.
Sunoo walked in, saw you and immediately lit up. “Y/n!”
Before you could even respond properly, he was already beside you on the couch. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, just waiting for Jungwon.” you said, putting down your phone.
“Perfect. Then you can help me.”
“With what?”
He held up his phone, “I need your opinion.”
By the time Jungwon came back from the store, you and Sunoo were sitting side by side on the couch.
“Which one looks better?” Sunoo asked, holding up two selfies.
You squinted, “Mmm, the left one.”
Sunoo gasped dramatically, “I knew it!”
Jungwon blinked, confused. “Why are you having a photoshoot review session?”
Sunoo didn’t even look at him, “She has better taste than you and everyone else.”
Ni-ki —
Ni-ki was like an annoying younger brother you never asked for.
The moment you walk into the dorm, he’s already there ready to annoy you.
You hadn’t even taken off your shoes properly when— “Why are you here again?” Ni-ki was already standing there, looking at you like you were intruding his personal space.
You blinked. “…To see Jungwon?”
He made a face, “Of course you are.”
You made a confused face, “??? Hello, why are you already trying to fight.”
“Oh you wanna fight.”
From then on he made it a routine to annoy you whenever he could.
When you would be hanging out with Jungwon, Ni-ki would appear behind you.
“Ugh y/n be quiet.” mind you, you weren’t even talking.
“Ni-ki, don’t even try me right now.”
Jungwon just sighed, not wanting to deal with you guys fighting.
That night, the dorm was finally silent.
No chaos. No yelling. No teasing.
Just the soft hum of the TV in the background and the occasional sound of footsteps down the hall.
You were sitting up on the bed, your back on the headboard, curled up under a blanket when Jungwon finally dropped down beside you with a tired sigh. “Long day?” you asked. He nodded, leaning his head against your shoulder. “Ni-ki almost broke my patience today.”
You let out a small laugh. “That sounds about right.” Jungwon lifted his head up to look at you properly. Like he was taking a moment to just see you.
“You’re always here,” he said softly.
“I mean yeah, where else would I be?” you replied. He smiled a little at that, then shifted closer, slipping his hand into yours.
For a moment, it was quiet again. Comfortable.
Then Jungwon spoke again, quieter this time. “You know…” he started, thumb lightly tracking over your knuckles, “I like how they take care of you in their own way.”
You tilted your head slightly. “Even Ni-ki? He literally bullies me 24/7.”
Jungwon let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Even him.” He squeezed your hand gently. “Even though he bullies you, he still cares for you.”
You looked at him, and he looked back—calm, sincere.
“They like you,” he continued. “Heeseung checks up on you like you’re his responsibility. Jay remembers everything about you. Jake drags you into whatever he’s doing. Sunghoon pretends he doesn’t care but is always there. Sunoo follows you around like you’re going to disappear. And Ni-ki…” he paused, smiling a little, “acts like he’s annoyed by your presence but is always the first one to defend you.”
His expression softened again as he leaned his shoulder gently against yours. “I like it.” he added. “It means I don’t have to worry as much when i’m not there.”
That made you go quiet for a second. “…You worry too much.” you mumbled.
Jungwon hummed. “It’s kind of my job.”
“It’s not.”
“It is if you’re mine.”
Your face warmed slightly at that, and turned your head away to hide it.
Jungwon noticed anyway. He noticed everything about you.
He smiled, satisfied, and pulled your hand a little closer.
Outside the room, faint laughter echoed from the hallway—probably Ni-ki arguing with someone again.
But inside, it was just you and Jungwon.
Jungwon leaned his head lightly against yours. “…I’m lucky,” he murmured. You glanced at him. “For what?”
“For you,” he said simply. Then after a pause, he added softer—“And for them caring of you too.” You didn’t reply right away. You just squeezed his hand back.
Pairing : non-idol Heeseung x roommate reader
Genre : fluff, breakup (not with reader), they're so cute
Synopsis : After his breakup, Heeseung went through a rough patch. So when his new roommate Y/N moves into his apartment and brings color back into his life, Heeseung realizes he was probably missing out on a lot by staying cooped up in his room.
Heeseung was lost in thought, slouched on the couch in Jay's apartment where the group was spending the evening. After his breakup with his girlfriend, he had lost interest in everything and let himself go, taking advantage of working remotely to play video games all day and only leaving his apartment to go grocery shopping and see his friends.
The guys had tried to force him to go out and see people, to socialize, but Heeseung stayed in his corner, as silent as a tomb. They suspected that this breakup of a three-year relationship must have broken him, especially since she left him for another guy, but they were struggling to leave their friend like this.
Jake's girlfriend, Mina, had been throwing him sideways glances since the start of the evening, and Heeseung rolled his eyes, turning his head in her direction. "What? You've been staring at me for a while. Something to say?"
The young woman glanced at her boyfriend, who encouraged her to speak, and she sighed. "I thought you could do me a favor." Heeseung nodded for her to continue. "My friend, Y/N, her landlord kicked her out of the apartment she was living in, and she can't find another place to stay. I was thinking that since you have a spare room in your apartment, you could let her move in with you? Just until she finds something."
Mina looked at him, her eyes full of hope, and Heeseung glanced around to see their friends waiting for his answer. Heeseung used to be quite sociable. He used to go out often, had no trouble approaching people, but since the breakup, he had closed himself off. Jake gave him a little sign, asking him to do this for him, and he finally nodded.
"Yeah, alright. She can come."
"Thank you so much, Heeseung!" Mina smiled, grabbing his hand. "Y/N is really lovely, and having lived with her before, she's an excellent roommate. She'll pay part of the rent!" Heeseung signaled that it wasn't necessary and told her she could come as early as the next day before sinking back into his thoughts.
He wasn't sure about his decision, but he would see what this Y/N was like.
The next day, Heeseung was woken by the doorbell. He put on a sweatshirt over his pajama t-shirt, walked to the door, and opened it. A girl his age stood on the doorstep, a suitcase at her feet. "What's this ?" he yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
"Oh, uh... Hi! I'm Y/N. You must be Heeseung." The young man blinked and then looked her up and down. "Sorry, were you sleeping? Mina said I could come today?"
"Oh yeah, that's fine. But you're here early."
"It's two o'clock, Heeseung." He turned his head toward the clock near the door and saw that the afternoon was already well underway. He apologized under his breath and stepped aside to invite her in.
Y/N thanked him with a smile and pulled her suitcase behind her, looking at the apartment she would be living in until she found something better. And it was clear that Heeseung had been living alone for a long time, as it wasn't the tidiest apartment she had ever seen.
"I'll show you your room." She nodded and followed him, passing by Heeseung's room, whose door had been left open. She just had time to glimpse the dark screens of the PCs on the desk and the lowered blinds.
Heeseung opened the door to her room to let her in, and everything was already brighter than the rest of the apartment. And tidier. He probably didn't come into this room very often. "You have your own bathroom, so make yourself at home."
"Thank you so much for taking me in, Heeseung. I don't want to bother you more than that."
"You're not bothering me," he reassured her with a slight smile that stretched his tired eyes. "I owed it to Jake and Mina. No need to ask to use things in the apartment, make yourself at home."
Y/N thanked him, and the young man left the room to return to his own, burying himself under his duvet to finish his night. The young woman looked around the room and sat at the foot of the bed. This roommate situation was going to be something...
A few days passed, and Y/N was settling into the apartment. And Heeseung was getting used to having company at home again, especially female company. Y/N wasn't the worst roommate. In fact, she was the most pleasant. She was quiet, didn't leave anything lying around, always cleaned up after herself, and rarely bothered him.
She quickly understood that Heeseung was a kind of vampire who rarely left his room and survived exclusively on ramen and coffee. And even if she didn't want to impose herself in his life, she would at least try to change that aspect.
Heeseung was focused on a video game, half-plunged into the darkness of the settling evening. He brought his almost-cold coffee cup to his lips, shouting into his headset microphone. He barely heard the knock on his door and Y/N entering his room.
Without a word, she crossed the room, dodging the clothes on the floor, grabbing the cold cup and replacing it with a plate of food and a glass of water. The game ended, and Heeseung turned his head toward her as Y/N left without saying anything. He looked down at the plate, a mix of noodles with vegetables and beef, emanating a delicious smell.
A slight smile stretched his lips as he grabbed the chopsticks and began to eat. And Y/N was happy and satisfied to see the plate in the sink the next morning when she woke up. After that, she often brought him dinner in his room when he was too busy in front of his screen to eat, and Heeseung noticed it every time, even if he said nothing.
One evening, Y/N was preparing dinner after coming home from work and set two plates, one for herself and one for Heeseung. She was humming, startled when she saw Heeseung behind the kitchen island that opened directly onto the living room. "Heeseung! Jesus!"
"Sorry…" He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "You were making dinner?"
"Oh, yeah! I was going to bring you your plate."
"Could... could I have dinner with you tonight?" Y/N nodded with a smile and handed him his plate. They went to sit at the coffee table in the living room, beginning to eat in silence. "Well, I've never asked you what you do for work."
"I work for a modeling agency."
"You're a model?" Heeseung asked, surprised, letting his gaze slide over her figure.
"No," she laughed. "I recruit models and direct them for different projects. I'm a kind of manager."
"That seems nice."
"Yes, it is! And you, what do you do ?"
"Oh well, it's not as exciting as you," he said, trying to change the subject.
"Come on!" Y/N exclaimed, not believing it for a second. "Mina told me you love music, right?"
"Yeah, I'm a music producer." Her eyes widened, but she smiled. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing! That's awesome!" Heeseung looked up at her, surprised by her enthusiasm.
"You think so?"
"Of course! Alright, have I ever heard your songs? Are you known in the industry, or are you still in the shadows of fame?" He caught himself chuckling but shook his head.
"I'm doing well."
"Now you have to let me listen to what you produce. Unless it's top-secret stuff, which would make me want to know even more." Heeseung smiled and promised to let her listen to what he was working on soon.
Y/N was honestly happy about this dinner. It was the first time Heeseung had taken such a step toward her, and she was pleased to be able to talk with him. Heeseung wished her good night before retreating to his room, and the young woman smiled at him with a wave.
Heeseung thought he had moved apartments overnight when one morning, or afternoon, he got up to see the apartment completely tidy and cleaned, a good smell of fresh, clean air filling his lungs. All the curtains were open, the blinds were up, and he hadn't seen his apartment so bright in ages.
Y/N must have done some spring cleaning earlier than planned, but seeing his apartment like this, the way it was when he wasn't this closed-off ball of sadness, gave him a jolt. Heeseung took a shower, aired out his room, changed his sheets, and picked up all the clothes littering the floor to put them in the wash.
The young woman was surprised to see Heeseung settled at the living room table tapping on his computer rather than in the darkness of his room. "Hee?"
"Hey, Y/N. Good day at work?"
"Yeah, pretty good." She gave him a curious look while taking off her shoes. "And you?"
"Very productive! Why don't we order in for dinner? My treat."
"Okay, cool." Heeseung smiled at her and grabbed his phone to order food.
She went to change into something more comfortable, returning to the living room just as Heeseung came back with the bag containing their dinner. Y/N sat down next to him, her stomach growling at the smell coming from the dishes.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" he suggested. "I saw one not long ago, and it was cool."
"Yes, of course. I hope you have good taste in movies."
"It's a horror movie." He didn't miss her grimace but started the movie anyway.
They ate dinner during the beginning of the movie, Y/N completely caught up in the plot between bites of her sushi. Heeseung watched her reactions out of the corner of his eye, smiling when he saw a particularly scary moment of the movie approaching.
Just before the screamer appeared on screen, Heeseung suddenly placed his hand on her shoulder with a loud "AH!" Y/N screamed, hitting him on the arm.
"Fuck you, Hee!" He rolled onto his back, laughing, proud of his joke, and Y/N couldn't stay mad for long, having never heard him laugh so freely. She hit him again, although her smile betrayed her.
They settled back onto the couch for the end of the movie, and Y/N wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, stifling a yawn. The last scary scene of the movie played on screen, eliciting a cry of surprise from the young woman, who buried her face in Heeseung's shoulder. "You know it's just a movie, right?"
"He was so ugly!" He chuckled, encircling her shoulders with his arm to press her a little closer to him and comfort her. So close, he could smell the almond shampoo she used and her fruity perfume.
Y/N relaxed against him, reassured by his presence, her hand resting on his chest over his t-shirt. The movie ended, and the young woman sat up, stretching. "Thanks for the evening, Hee. It was great. But I'm never letting you choose the movie again. Next time, we're watching a Disney movie or a romantic comedy."
Heeseung rolled his eyes but nodded with a playful smile. He watched her return to her room and began to clean up their meal, thoughtful. Maybe Y/N's presence in his life could only be beneficial.
A few months passed, and everything was going... truly well between Heeseung and Y/N. She had gotten used to living alongside him and appreciated his presence. Heeseung had found a good balance between his work and his video games, even returning to his studio with his colleagues instead of staying locked in his room, which they appreciated seeing.
It was a surprise when the group of friends received a dinner invitation from Heeseung and Y/N. It was true that since the young woman had moved in, they hadn't had the chance to see each other again, so this was the perfect opportunity. Also to see how Heeseung was doing and whether he had abandoned his idea of becoming a caveman.
They all arrived at the same time, going up to the couple's apartment and ringing the bell. Heeseung came to open the door, his face sporting a smile. "Hey, guys!"
His friends stared at him with wide eyes. Alright, what did you do with the caveman? No more sweatpants and sweatshirts. "You're wearing a button-down shirt, hyung?" Jungwon choked.
Heeseung nodded as if he saw no harm in it and stepped aside to let them in. They stared at the apartment they had known as a real dump, Mina even having feared that Y/N would run away when she saw it.
But no. Everything was in its place, not a speck of dust on the shelves, and candles had even been lit, creating a cozy atmosphere. Y/N came out of the kitchen to greet them. "Guys! I'm glad to see you!"
Mina came to hug her, whispering in her ear, "What did you do to Heeseung ? What spell did you cast on him?"
"What?"
"He's a new man, girl." Y/N rolled her eyes and thanked Jay for the bottle of wine he had brought.
"Hee, can you lead them to the living room and open the wine?" Y/N asked him, handing him the bottle. "I'll be right there."
"Of course." Heeseung grabbed the bottle and walked around her to go to the living room, his arm brushing her waist as he passed. The group exchanged glances with raised eyebrows, absolutely needing to know more.
They settled in the living room, where the table was already covered with appetizer dishes. Heeseung sat in an armchair to open the bottle. His friends found him changed. Apart from the button-down shirt, his dark circles had disappeared, and his eyes had regained a certain sparkle of life. "You seem to be in good shape, hyung," Jake remarked.
"I am," Heeseung agreed. "Work is good, life at home is good. Everything is good."
A grey cat jumped from the cat tree placed behind the armchair where the young man was sitting, climbing onto the back of the armchair. "Hyung, since when do you have a cat?" Sunoo exclaimed.
Heeseung looked over his shoulder to see the third inhabitant of the apartment and chuckled. "This is Popcorn."
"Popcorn ?" snorted Sunghoon. "That's original."
"Are you criticizing our baby's name, Park?" Y/N said, coming into the living room, lifting the cat into her arms, and sitting down next to Heeseung, half on his lap.
"Of course not."
"Wait, you adopted a cat together?" Mina exclaimed, her hands on her cheeks.
"Y/N forced me," Heeseung defended himself.
"Liar!" Y/N retorted, nudging him with her shoulder. "We were just talking about the best pets, I said cats, and the next day you dragged me to the pet store!"
"Yeah, well, that cat hates me, he only sleeps in your bed."
"And you sleep in my bed too," the young woman exasperated, the group looking at each other bewildered.
"That's just because the heating in my room is broken !"
"Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, and maybe it'll become reality, Lee," Y/N taunted.
Heeseung stuck his tongue out at her as she laughed, stroking Popcorn's head. Mina shook Jake's arm, unable to believe what was unfolding before her eyes. Abandon the idea of enjoying the evening and just watch Heeseung and Y/N interact. That was their new goal for the evening.
The young man always had a hand on her thigh or an arm around her waist, and Y/N was constantly leaning against him or with an arm around his shoulders. Heeseung always watched her with a smile when she spoke, always making sure her glass was never empty or that she lacked for nothing. God, their friend was in love.
The end of the evening came quickly, and Heeseung and Y/N walked their friends to the door. The young man stood behind Y/N, an arm around her shoulders. "It was cool seeing you, guys."
"Thanks for having us," Jay smiled. "We're glad you came out of your hibernating bear phase, hyung." Heeseung rolled his eyes, making a movement to press Y/N closer against him, which didn't go unnoticed.
"Be careful on the road," Y/N told them. "Mina, let's go shopping soon."
"Yes, girl! We're going to empty Jake's card!" Her boyfriend looked at her with fear, making them laugh.
Heeseung closed the door after they said goodbye, locking it. They went to tidy the living room and kitchen so they wouldn't have to do it the next day, doing the dishes in silence. Y/N then headed toward her room, the young man on her heels.
"It was nice to see them again," she smiled. "We should do that more often."
"Yeah, right." She turned to face him once in front of her door. "Y/N, I…" Y/N looked up at him to face him, inviting him with her eyes to continue. Heeseung moved closer to her, placing his hands on her hips. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For everything. Thank you for being here, for being in my life. I was completely lost and depressed after my breakup, and I had no taste for anything, but you changed everything. And today, I don't want that to change. I don't want you to leave for another apartment, I want you to stay here with me. Especially since we have a cat now, you can't run away from your co-parenting responsibilities."
She giggled and bit her lip. "I wasn't planning to. And I don't want that to change either, Heeseung."
He smiled, happy to hear it, then bent down to place a kiss on her right cheek. "Good night." He kissed her left cheek. "Sweet dreams." Heeseung pressed his lips to hers before pulling back. "Dream of me."
Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth against his, giving him the long-desired kiss. Heeseung tightened his grip on her hips, pressing her against his body and deepening the kiss.
Pinned between the door and him, the young woman's fingers lost themselves in his brown locks, her lips parting to allow him to slide his tongue into the kiss. The soft moan she let out sent shivers of pleasure through him.
A meow cut short their momentum, and they pulled apart to see Popcorn sitting at their feet. "Son, dada and mama are going to go do dirty things, so go to sleep in the living room. Bedroom forbidden for children until tomorrow morning."
Y/N laughed as Heeseung lifted her into his arms, opened the door, closed it behind him with a kick, and carried her to the bed. He had everything he wanted in Y/N. And even a cat! This roommate situation had turned out to be exactly what he had needed at the right time.
Summary: On a field trip to Belize, two rival entomology students are forced to share more than just research notes when a booking mistake leaves them with only one bed. Between missed GPS signals, late-night confessions, and tangled sheets, they discover the line between competition and connection is thinner than they thought.
Pairing: classmates/group partners to lovers, Jungkook x reader
Themes: smut, fluff, angst, awkward reader, Jungkook being super reassuring, silly twist at the end
Word count: 9.2k
Jungkook had the highest grades in the class.
Well… not quite.
You were just above him by a fraction of a percent.
And if the way his jaw clenched whenever graded reports were handed back meant anything, he knew it.
That wasn’t the only reason things were tense between you, but it certainly didn’t help. Now here you were, two top students in your university's entomology program, jetlagged and sitting stiffly on opposite sides of a modest hotel room in Belize, pretending this arrangement was perfectly fine.
It wasn’t.
The air was thick with humidity and something unspoken — not quite rivalry, not quite resentment, not quite… something else. You weren’t sure what to call it.
The trip had been Professor Choi’s idea. Fieldwork in the tropics, hands-on specimen collection, rainforest immersion — all very career-making opportunities for young researchers. You’d been thrilled at first until you saw the room assignments taped to the inside of the shuttle windows and saw his name printed under yours.
Room 204:
Y/N
Jungkook
You both blinked at the list in silence. Said nothing. Said too much in that nothing.
And now here you were.
He sat at the desk by the window, scrolling through the trip itinerary on his laptop, one hand curled loosely around a reusable water bottle. You were on the bed, cross-legged with your own notebook balanced in your lap, pretending to revise tomorrow’s field notes but mostly just watching him from the corner of your eye.
He looked tired. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends, and a faint flush lingered on his cheeks from the heat. The collar of his sleep shirt was askew.
You turned your gaze back to your page.
The silence stretched, uncomfortable. It wasn’t the kind of silence that grows out of familiarity — the easy, lived-in quiet that people share. This was sharp around the edges, brittle and full of unsaid things.
Jungkook cleared his throat. “You need the desk at all, or…?”
You glanced up. “No, you’re good.”
He nodded, then shifted in his chair. The legs scraped softly against the tile floor.
You were both trying to be polite — textbook academic composure. But it was like trying to build a bridge over a minefield. You were rivals, but not enemies. You were acquaintances, but not quite friends. And there’d always been something a little charged in the way he looked at you. As if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to outpace you or understand you. Maybe both.
You leaned back on your elbows, exhaling softly. “You packed the pinning kits, right?”
Jungkook glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Two of them. Yours is in the side pouch.”
“Thanks.” Not dry, not too much emotion.
Silence again.
He turned in his chair slightly, thumb tapping idly at the rim of his bottle. “You think we’ll get lucky with the beetle counts tomorrow?”
You smiled faintly at the ceiling. “If the rain holds off, maybe.”
More silence.
The distant hum of cicadas buzzed beyond the windows.
You closed your notebook slowly. “This is weird, right?”
He blinked. “What is?”
You motioned vaguely between you. “This. Us. Rooming.”
Jungkook laughed under his breath, almost sheepish. “Yeah. A little.”
You tilted your head toward him. “You’re not gonna kill me in my sleep to bump your GPA up or anything?”
He grinned, finally — teeth flashing, his earlier stiffness fading a little. “Only if your specimen count tomorrow is better than mine.”
You snorted. “So, absolutely then.”
And there it was. The first crack in the tension. Small, but real.
You both sat with it for a moment — the shared smile, the mutual acknowledgment that this was going to be weird, but maybe not unbearable.
You turned toward the bedside lamp. “Lights out?”
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. Big day tomorrow.”
You clicked the lamp off, and the room fell into a hush, lit only by the soft blue glow of streetlights bleeding through the curtain.
You didn’t sleep right away. Neither did he.
The silence between you was louder now, pressed thin by the narrow space you shared — just one bed, too small for comfort, too close for denial. You were lying back to back, bodies angled to avoid touching, but you could feel him. The heat of him. The subtle shift of the mattress whenever he adjusted his position, trying not to disturb you.
You stared at the ceiling, eyes tracing patterns in the dark. Every breath felt calculated. Every inch of space felt borrowed.
Jungkook exhaled softly. “You awake?”
His voice was low, barely more than a murmur against the hum of the air conditioner.
You hesitated. “Yeah.”
Another beat passed. He didn’t say anything else.
Your fingers curled against the sheets, restless. You could sense him thinking — the same way you’d always been able to tell when he was working through something he didn’t want to admit out loud. You weren’t touching, but somehow, you felt too close. And not close enough.
The bed dipped slightly as he shifted again. You stared harder at the ceiling.
This was ridiculous.
“I’ll sleep on the floor tomorrow,” he said suddenly. Quiet. Like it had been weighing on him.
You turned your head slightly, but didn’t look at him. “Don’t be stupid.”
“It’s not—”
“It’s fine, Jungkook.”
More silence.
You closed your eyes and tried to breathe past the static building in your chest. It was just one bed. Just a hotel. Just a field study.
And tomorrow, the jungle awaited.
You were halfway to the bathroom with your crumpled bra in hand, clutching it like it was evidence in a crime scene, when his voice cut through the quiet.
“I noticed, by the way.”
You stopped dead in your tracks.
He didn’t look up right away, still chewing thoughtfully, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth said he knew exactly what he’d done.
Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Noticed what?” you asked too quickly, too defensively.
Jungkook finally raised his gaze to meet yours, and it was almost too casual—like he was trying hard not to make it a big deal.
“You took your bra off last night,” he said, as simply as someone pointing out it might rain later. “Figured it wasn’t on purpose, but I didn’t say anything. Didn’t wanna make it worse.”
Your face burned. Your entire body went still. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blink.
He set his fork down and leaned his head back against the side of the bed, looking up at you with that easy grin of his.
“I’ve got sisters. A mom. It’s not a big deal, Y/N. I’m not gonna make you sneak around and jump like you just committed a felony every time you need to breathe comfortably.”
He laughed softly, like he was genuinely amused, not mocking you. Not even a little. Just… at ease with you, even in your most flustered moment.
“I mean,” he added, glancing back down at his tray, “you’ve seen me shirtless, what, like twenty times? And I’m pretty sure I woke up drooling. So really, we’re even.”
You finally managed to exhale, your fingers tightening around the bra in your hand. The tension started to fade from your shoulders, embarrassment slowly melting into reluctant laughter.
“Still,” you mumbled, stepping backward toward the bathroom, “could’ve let me think I got away with it.”
He smirked and took another bite. “Where’s the fun in that?”
You had a spoon clenched between your teeth, a cold scrambled egg half-forgotten as you tried to wrestle your field notebook into the front pocket of your backpack. The zipper caught—again—and you cursed under your breath, juggling between tugging it loose, checking the time, and trying not to spill the instant coffee you hadn’t even touched yet.
“Shit,” you muttered, toeing your hiking boots on at the same time.
Across the room, Jungkook had been quietly slipping sunscreen into his own pack, but the way his eyes flicked up told you he’d been watching you struggle for a while now.
“Hey,” he said, already moving toward you before you could huff your next breath. “I can do this while you eat.”
You looked up at him, egg still stuck between your teeth, brow furrowed.
“Seriously,” he said, reaching for your pack and sliding it effortlessly away from your lap. “Don’t worry. They can’t leave us. We’re the two most promising young minds in this entire doomed trip.”
He was grinning. A soft, crooked grin that barely hid how much he liked helping you.
You let out a breath—sharp, surprised, grateful—and slumped back into the chair like you hadn’t realized how tense you’d been until he said something.
He chuckled at the way your body deflated, like a balloon finally allowed to let go of all its panic. “There she is,” he murmured. “Breathing again.”
You mumbled a sarcastic thank you through a mouthful of cold toast, and he only laughed harder, crouched by your bag, hands moving with the kind of quiet precision you always admired in him. Still barefoot, hair a mess, sleeves pushed up. Still calm, even when you were a storm.
You watched him for a second too long before returning to your breakfast. Something in your chest shifted.
You popped the last bite of toast into your mouth, chewing slowly as you reached for your belt and clipped it around your waist. It took a second for your fingers to work—still stiff with leftover adrenaline from the morning rush—but you managed to fasten it snug over your shorts.
“Can you double-check my pack?” you asked, mouth half full, motioning toward the backpack Jungkook had just finished organizing. “Make sure I didn’t forget anything? I always forget something.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just gave you a look over his shoulder—brows raised, amused—and walked his fingers over the zipper before unfastening it again.
“You mean like how you almost left your GPS on the nightstand?” he teased, pulling the small black device from the front pocket and holding it up between two fingers.
You rolled your eyes and reached for it, but he pulled it just out of reach with a grin. “Tsk. And you call yourself an organized person.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “I am organized.”
“Sure,” he said, not bothering to hide his smirk as he tucked the GPS safely into the correct side compartment. “Organized chaos, maybe.”
You muttered something under your breath, but he was already half-laughing to himself as he moved on. He checked the specimen jars, your field knife, the small notebook you’d marked up with the region’s insect life. His fingers lingered briefly on a folded-up poncho and the extra batteries you always insisted on carrying.
“Looks good,” he finally said, zipping it back up and standing. “Prepared for all six plagues of Belize.”
You slung the pack over your shoulder with a grateful sigh and adjusted the strap. “Thanks, Jungkook.”
His eyes softened. “You’d do it for me.”
You didn’t say anything—just gave a small nod and a half-smile, one he returned with quiet sincerity. The air between you held something steady now. Unspoken, but beginning to feel inevitable.
Eight students total were selected for the field study. Four rooms, four pairs. Naturally, everyone was grouped off with their roommates for the first day’s assignment—which meant you were with Jungkook.
The two of you had been assigned the northeastern quadrant of the reserve, where the jungle grew denser and the canopy darker. You were barely fifteen minutes in before the mosquitoes had declared war and the trail had all but vanished beneath the thick undergrowth.
“The Pepsis grossa—tarantula hawk wasp—is usually found around decaying logs and near ceiba trees,” you said, squinting down at the coordinates on the field map in your hands. “So if we head northeast—”
“We should be heading east,” Jungkook interrupted, brushing past you. “The terrain flattens out faster that way. We’ll get a better survey sample.”
You blinked. “East takes us away from the rotting wood clusters,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “It doesn’t match the pattern from last year’s reports.”
“Yeah, but those reports were done in the dry season. This is wet season,” Jungkook shot back. “Everything shifts. Trust me.”
You held your breath, counting to three in your head. “I do trust you,” you said calmly. “I’m just saying we should follow the data before gut instinct.”
He huffed, adjusting his backpack. “You always have to be the one leading, huh?”
That stung more than you wanted to admit.
Instead of replying, you stepped ahead and veered slightly off the trail toward a shaded patch of overgrowth. The silence stretched until it started to feel like static in your ears. You pulled the sunscreen bottle from your pack and held it up without looking at him.
“Can you get my back? I forgot to reapply.”
He hesitated for a moment, then took the bottle wordlessly. His fingers were gentle as they brushed across your shoulders, the cold lotion a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat. His touch was soft—softer than you expected, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t just spreading sunscreen but… studying you.
You leaned slightly into it, breaking the tension with a half-smile. “You’ve got surprisingly delicate hands. You sure you didn’t pick the wrong field? Could’ve been a masseuse.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Please. I know my way around a woman’s body.”
You tensed, the air snapping back into discomfort. The joke sat there, loud and stupid and heavy between you.
You cleared your throat and took a quick step forward. “Right. GPS,” you muttered, digging through your belt pouch in a panic. Your fingers searched through tangled cords and folded paper, but it wasn’t there. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, already pulling off his backpack.
“My GPS unit’s gone. It was clipped to my belt this morning—I swear—”
“I’ve got mine,” he said, tugging it out, only to press the button and stare at the blank screen. “Dead. Battery’s toast.”
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe. “Okay. It’s fine. Compass. We’ll use—” But as you turned to him, he was already tearing through the front pocket of his pack. His hands stilled.
“It’s not here,” he said.
You blinked at him. “You didn’t bring your compass?”
“I did,” he said, jaw tightening. “It must’ve fallen out.”
“That’s two navigational tools you didn’t check before leaving,” you snapped, voice rising before you could stop it. “God, Jungkook, do you even care that this isn’t just some day hike? This is research. This is my grade too.”
He straightened up, bristling. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some idiot. I packed last minute because someone took the bathroom for forty minutes.”
You scoffed. “You’re blaming your missing compass on my shower?”
“I’m saying maybe if you didn’t spend all your time trying to prove you’re the smartest person in the room, we’d be working together.”
That was the last thread.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, stepping away from him, hands on your hips as you stared at the thick canopy overhead like it could somehow cool the rage prickling under your skin. “You’re unbelievable.”
Jungkook stood there, silent for a moment, his face unreadable.
You didn’t even want to look at him. Not when your skin still tingled where his hands had been. Not when your chest ached like the disappointment had sunk into your ribs.
The silence stretched so long it made your ears ring. The thick, wet heat clung to your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear was the low hum of cicadas and the dull thudding of your pulse behind your ears.
You inhaled deeply, your breath catching slightly in your chest as you unscrewed the cap of your water bottle. Don’t snap. Don’t cry. Don’t let him see it. You drank, slow and measured, the lukewarm water doing nothing to soothe the burning in your throat. You were aware of how much was left—three swallows, maybe four. You capped it again and nodded to yourself.
“We’ll figure this out,” you said tightly, trying to summon calm with the words. You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. “We just need to head downhill. Running water means trail markers. Civilization.”
Jungkook said nothing at first. You could feel him watching you, though. Like he wanted to say something and didn’t know how to start. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. The tension hadn’t gone away—it just changed shape, curdled into something heavier.
You adjusted your bag, eyes scanning the patch of sky above the canopy, gauging direction by the sun.
“You’re mad,” he finally said, voice low.
You laughed, humorless. “Yeah. I am.”
A beat.
“I didn’t mean to mess things up,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve been... difficult.”
You turned slowly, your eyes locking on his for the first time since you’d raised your voice. He looked almost sheepish, like the fight had knocked something loose in him. And it made your throat ache even more.
“We’ll figure it out,” you repeated—this time softer, like a promise. You didn’t know if you meant the navigation or everything else. Maybe both.
“I just don’t understand how this happened,” you muttered, voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. “We both double-checked our packs. I watched you check mine.”
Jungkook didn’t argue. He looked like he wanted to, like there was a defense half-formed on his tongue, but it died under the weight of your exhaustion. You sighed and crouched, elbows braced on your knees, head falling between them. The pressure in your skull eased just slightly like that, grounded by the dirt, by the air, by the rising sound of the jungle around you.
You stayed like that for a few moments—long enough for the shame of snapping at him to dull. Long enough for the fear to set in properly, simmering beneath the surface like a slow boil. But then…
“Okay,” Jungkook said, gently. “Let’s just… start walking. That ridge we passed might be west. And if we follow the slope, we’ll hit the trail eventually.”
You nodded without a word and stood, brushing the backs of your thighs and tightening the straps on your backpack. He offered you a look that felt like truce—exhausted but quietly open. And you didn’t say anything. Just started walking beside him, deeper into the green.
You weren’t sure if you were headed in the right direction. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it wasn’t. But the fact that you were together made the whole thing just a little less terrifying.
After a while, your breathing evened out. The panic began to dull, replaced by something more manageable. You looked around the jungle, at the buzzing canopy above and the earth beneath your boots, and suddenly, the silence was too loud again.
“I was eight,” you said suddenly, not even realizing you were speaking until Jungkook glanced sideways at you. “The day I decided to study bugs.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “We were on a camping trip. My dad caught me screaming over this beetle on my sleeping bag. It was huge—I mean massive. Orange and black. I cried like a baby. But he just picked it up and let it crawl on his hand. Told me it couldn’t hurt me, and it was just... exploring.”
Jungkook made a soft sound. “Your dad sounds cool.”
You smiled faintly, still watching the dirt path. “He was. He told me that being afraid of little things would make the big things scarier. So I held the beetle. It tickled. Didn’t cry after that.”
There was a beat of silence, warm and quiet.
“Guess that explains why you didn’t flinch when that tarantula crawled onto your leg last week,” Jungkook muttered.
You laughed, soft and genuine this time. “I flinched. I just flinched internally.”
He grinned. “You’re the only person I know who would rather be lost in the jungle than in a room full of people.”
You met his eyes briefly and gave a half-shrug. “People are harder to read than bugs.”
Jungkook hummed at that. He didn’t argue. Just walked a little closer to you—close enough that your shoulders brushed now and then. The tension hadn’t vanished completely, but it had shifted again—into something quieter, a little heavier, and a lot harder to ignore.
The jungle felt endless—green stacked on green, the canopy dripping with filtered sunlight. You pushed aside another low branch, sweat beading at your hairline, and tried to ignore how your shirt clung damp to your skin.
“Hold on,” Jungkook said suddenly, catching your wrist before you walked straight into a patch of thorns. His grip was firm, almost protective, and when you glanced back at him, his eyes darted away like he hadn’t meant to touch you for that long.
“Thanks,” you murmured, pulling free gently.
Little things like that kept happening—his palm at the small of your back as you crossed a slippery patch, the way his shoulder brushed yours when the trail narrowed, how he offered you his canteen before even thinking about drinking from it himself. You tried not to read into it, but each moment left your stomach tighter, your breath a little shallower.
A flash of movement on the bark of a massive ceiba tree—bold orange streaks patterned against black. Your pulse jumped.
“Jungkook, look!” you whispered, dropping to your knees with practiced ease. It was a Harlequin Beetle, rare to see in the open during the day. Its body was striking, almost painted, and the male’s impossibly long forelegs looked like something out of science fiction.
Both of you crouched, shoulders pressed together, as you carefully guided the beetle into a specimen vial. His breath was hot against your cheek as he leaned closer to get a better look, and you had to force yourself to focus on the insect instead of the way his thigh pressed into yours.
“Damn,” Jungkook breathed. “This is—this is huge. Everyone else is going to lose their minds.”
You smiled, proud. “We’re definitely ahead now.”
But then his shoulders dropped, like some part of him gave in. He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to the canopy above. “You know why I started studying bugs?”
The question caught you off guard. You shook your head. “No. You never told me.”
He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Most people think it’s because I liked catching them as a kid. Which… yeah, I did. But the truth is—” He stopped, chewing his lip before continuing. “I just liked how small they were. How overlooked. I felt like that most of my life, you know? Quiet. Easy to ignore. Bugs don’t need to be loud or obvious to matter. They just… do what they’re meant to. And half the time, they’re more important than the things people actually notice.”
Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone. Jungkook rarely said things like this, and when he did, it was always sideways, half-hidden under a joke. But not now. Now he looked almost raw, his fingers worrying at the strap of his pack.
“I thought maybe if I studied them,” he added softly, “I could figure out where I belonged too.”
For a long moment, you just watched him—his lowered lashes, the set of his mouth, the vulnerability he probably wished he could stuff back down.
For a long moment, you just watched him—his lowered lashes, the set of his mouth, the vulnerability he probably wished he could stuff back down.
“Jungkook,” you said quietly, “you belong more than you think.”
His eyes lifted, catching yours, and for a heartbeat the jungle went silent around you.
Then, almost abruptly, he stood. He cleared his throat, brushing the dirt from his hands like he could shake off the weight of what he’d just said. Without meeting your gaze, he nodded toward your pack.
“Let’s, uh—let’s get that beetle stored properly before it overheats,” he muttered. “We should keep moving if we want to make it back before dark.”
You watched as he carefully secured the vial inside his specimen case, movements precise, almost reverent. He lingered for just a second too long before slinging his pack onto his shoulders again.
When he finally glanced down at you, his face was composed, but there was still a shadow of the boy who’d confessed more than he probably meant to.
“Ready?” he asked.
You swallowed, nodded, and rose to your feet. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
So you fell into step again, the unspoken words trailing behind you like a third presence in the humid air.
You’d barely walked another half hour before voices broke through the dense hum of cicadas. Relief hit like cool water when two figures emerged from the foliage—classmates from the trip, both balancing specimen nets and field packs.
“Along the water, maybe?” one said to the other before spotting the two of you looking drained and defeated.
The decision was immediate—you and Jungkook fell in with them, the four of you moving together along the winding path. They had their compasses, their maps, their calm sense of direction. And neither of you was ready to head back to the hotel empty-handed, so it worked out to stick with them for now.
Jungkook ended up walking ahead with Marisol, their voices low as they compared notes on habitat zones. You hung back with the other girl, Eliza, who wasn’t so much interested in insects as she was in people.
“So,” she said, nudging your arm as you carefully avoided a tangle of vines. “What happened? Why were you two wandering off-track like that?”
You hesitated, tightening your grip on your pack straps. “Our GPS glitched, then the compass went missing. Total disaster. But we’re fine now.”
“Mm,” she hummed, not sounding particularly convinced. Then she gave you a sly sideways look. “What about the weird tension?”
You blinked. “What tension?”
Her grin widened. “The way he looks at you. The way you look back. Have you two hooked up yet?”
You nearly tripped over a root. Heat rushed to your face so fast it made you dizzy. “Wh—no! What? That’s… no.”
But the question echoed in your own mind, loud and unsettling. Had you? No. Did you want to?
The thought alone made your stomach flip. You and Jungkook had known each other long enough to be natural together, sure. Perfect in some ways, even. But also messy, complicated, a contradiction that made no sense when you tried to name it.
Still, Eliza’s knowing smirk lingered in your periphery, and you hated how badly it rattled you.
Eliza’s smirk didn’t fade, even after you stammered out your denial. She just hummed like she already knew better and skipped a step ahead, leaving you scrambling to collect your thoughts.
A twig cracked ahead of you. When you looked up, Jungkook’s shoulders were tense, head tilted just slightly—like he’d caught the last few words. Your stomach dropped, but he didn’t turn around. Didn’t say a thing. Just kept pace with Marisol, voice low as they discussed soil composition.
You swallowed hard, pretending you hadn’t noticed.
The four of you fell into work not long after, the chatter shifting toward more practical things. Marisol was quick to point out specimens you’d missed earlier—leafcutter ants carving highways through the underbrush, a flash of blue when a morpho butterfly darted past. Jungkook’s excitement lit up every time he got close enough to document something, his laugh carrying through the trees when a grasshopper nearly leapt onto his face.
With their help, your packs slowly began to fill with pinned finds and careful samples. Eliza was surprisingly good at spotting movement in the brush, and Marisol’s steady hand with the nets kept you from fumbling every catch. It was easier to breathe when you were all crouched together, comparing notes, wiping sweat from your brows.
For a while, it was almost like the earlier tension had evaporated into the humid air. Almost.
Every now and then, you caught Jungkook glancing over his shoulder—not at the trees, not at the undergrowth. At you. And each time, your pulse jumped, your mind circling back to Eliza’s question like a moth to a flame.
By the time the four of you made it back to the hotel, the sun had already dipped low, painting the walls of the lobby with heavy shadows. Sweat still clung to the back of your neck, the straps of your pack digging deep, but relief made your limbs feel lighter.
Eliza and Marisol waved their goodbyes at the elevators, peeling off toward their room with promises to compare notes after dinner. That left just you and Jungkook, the silence between you still thick enough to taste.
The hallway stretched ahead, carpet muffling your footsteps. You tried not to fidget with the strap of your bag, tried not to glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but the tension was there—an electric hum between two magnets too stubborn to either pull close or push away.
And then you saw it.
Right outside your door, sitting neat as anything, was your GPS.
You stopped dead, staring down at the small device like it was mocking you. Jungkook nearly ran into you before following your gaze. For a second the two of you just blinked at it—then laughter burst out of both your chests, sharp and unrestrained, the kind that came when you’d been wound too tight for too long.
“Unbelievable,” you managed, doubling over with your pack still on. “All that panic—”
“—and it was right here the whole time.” Jungkook shook his head, grinning so hard his dimple showed.
Still chuckling, you swiped the GPS off the floor, unlocked the door, and pushed inside. The cool air of the room swept over you, tugging the tension down another notch—until your eyes landed on the small silver circle resting on the carpet near the foot of the bed.
Your compass.
Exactly where you’d struggled with your shoes this morning.
Jungkook spotted it the same moment you did, his grin faltering into something softer, sheepish. You let out a groan, covering your face with both hands.
“We’re idiots,” you muttered.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, though there was a hint of laughter still in his voice. “But at least we’re idiots together.”
And just like that, the tension shifted—still there, but less like a storm waiting to break and more like a spark hovering in the air, waiting for the right moment to catch.
You dropped your pack by the desk and crouched to unzip it, already sorting through notebooks, specimen jars, and your still half-eaten breakfast tucked into a napkin. “I’ll start unpacking,” you said, waving vaguely toward the bathroom. “You should shower first before you collapse.”
Jungkook slung his bag onto the other bed, tugging out a clean shirt and sweatpants. He gave you a tired grin, eyes rimmed red from the sun and hours of focus. “Deal. But only if you promise not to eat my share of the snacks while I’m in there.”
You huffed a laugh, pulling out one of your field notebooks. “No promises.”
As he gathered his things, you both fell into the kind of easy conversation that came when neither of you had the energy to think too hard.
“So… dinner downstairs? The hotel restaurant probably has more options than room service,” you suggested, trying to sound chipper even as your jaw cracked with a yawn.
He paused, clutching his towel over his shoulder. “Actually, I saw this cool little place a few streets over yesterday, when we were driving in. Looked local—authentic. Could be worth checking out.”
You groaned, letting your head drop forward into your hands. “Wait, don’t we have to go to the bank to convert more money first?”
Jungkook tilted his head, already halfway toward the bathroom. “Yeah… probably.”
There was a long, tired pause. You let out a sigh that carried the weight of the entire jungle, the sweat, the panic over the GPS. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t have the energy to find a bank, or walk three streets, or smile politely at strangers while I fumble with cash. I’m literally too tired to talk to anyone.”
Your voice cracked into a laugh at the end, tired and resigned all at once. Jungkook’s chuckle answered from across the room, soft and warm.
“Room service it is. I don’t mind a boring dinner on the first night,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom. “Wake me up if I fall asleep in the shower.”
You snorted, shaking your head as the door clicked shut behind him, the sound of running water filling the room.
By the time you’d finished unpacking, Jungkook had claimed the bathroom. The sound of water against tile carried through the walls, and every now and then you caught yourself glancing toward the door, imagining the steam building up inside. You shook it off, tucking your last specimen jar onto the desk and stretching out your arms until your shoulders popped.
A few minutes later, the door swung open with a hiss of steam. Jungkook stepped out, shirtless, skin still damp and catching the lamplight. His hair clung in dark strands against his forehead, and his face was hidden beneath a smooth, glossy sheet mask.
“Your turn,” he said, padding barefoot across the carpet. His voice was muffled by the mask, playful but casual, as though this wasn’t the most disarming sight you’d ever witnessed. In his hand, he held out another packet. “I brought extras. Wanna do one too?”
You blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then, forcing your throat to cooperate, you managed, “Uh—yeah. Sure.” The word snagged in your mouth, your stutter obvious even to your own ears. You took the packet quickly, nodding like it was no big deal, before retreating into the bathroom with your shower bag.
The hot water did little to quiet the buzz in your chest.
When you came back out, hair damp and your own mask cooling your skin, Jungkook was already sitting cross-legged on one of the beds. He patted the empty space in front of him, where he’d spread the dinner menu out like it was a deck of cards.
“Come on. Help me decide before I just give up and order three desserts,” he teased, his words peeking out from under the sheet mask.
You settled down opposite him, crossing your legs so your knees brushed against the edge of the menu. Together you leaned forward, reading through the list of options.
“Okay, so… chicken sandwich?” you said, tapping it with your finger. “Kinda basic. But maybe basic is good—it might feel a little less like we’re a million miles away from home.”
“Or…” Jungkook tapped at the pasta, eyes crinkling in mischief beneath the mask, “we embrace the chaos and pretend hotel spaghetti counts as an authentic cultural experience.”
You snorted. “Pretty sure that’s the opposite of authentic.”
The banter settled into something light, easy. A rhythm you didn’t have to think about, even though you were hyper-aware of how close you sat to him, of the faint eucalyptus scent wafting from his mask.
When the timer on his phone chimed, you both reached up at the same time, peeling the masks from your faces in unison.
“Wow,” you sighed, pressing your fingertips into your cheeks. “That felt amazing. My skin hasn’t breathed like this since we got here.”
“Told you,” he said proudly, wadding the used mask into a napkin. “This brand is legit. My skin would’ve mutinied by now without it.” He tilted his head, studying your face with an intensity that made your pulse skip. “Looks good on you.”
You ducked your gaze quickly, pretending to re-read the menu. “Yeah, well… good on both of us.”
The moment lingered, warm and quiet, before he finally picked up the hotel phone. “Alright,” he said, voice casual, but softer than before. “Let’s make it official. Room service for two.”
His knuckles brushed the edge of the menu while he dialed, and you found yourself watching him—watching the curve of his mouth, the damp shine of his hair, the casual way he made the mundane suddenly feel like something more.
Dinner arrived on a rolling tray, the knock at the door startling you both out of the haze you’d slipped into while waiting. Jungkook carried the plates to the bed, and you settled onto the floor beside him, your plate balanced on the edge of the mattress.
It felt strangely natural—him above, you below, both leaning toward the food and toward each other. Your voices fell soft in the small space, the kind of hush reserved for the quiet hours of night.
“So,” you said between bites, “what made you decide to study insects anyway? I know why you love them but why are you making them your life? Was it the thrill of watching tiny creatures crawl around, or…?”
He smirked, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Nah. I always liked being outside. I hated sitting still as a kid. Bugs were just… everywhere. And no one else wanted to look at them for long, so I got to feel like I was discovering something.”
You grinned, nodding. “That makes sense. I was the opposite. I was the kid with thick glasses, reading bug encyclopedias instead of going outside. Total nerd.”
He chuckled, tilting his plate toward you. “A nerd who still beat me for the top spot in class.”
“Barely,” you shot back, playful but sheepish. Then, after a pause, you added quietly, “I was bullied a lot for it. For being too curious. Too different. Studying bugs didn’t exactly earn me popularity points.”
Something in Jungkook’s face softened. He leaned down, fork spearing a bite from his plate and holding it out toward you. “Guess the nerds win in the end.”
You rolled your eyes, but leaned forward, letting him feed you. The taste of his dish lingered sweet and tangy on your tongue. Without thinking, you cut a piece from your own plate and offered it up to him. His lips brushed the fork, and for one too-long second, you were caught watching them.
The conversation drifted, the food dwindled, until Jungkook leaned back against the headboard with a little sigh. “You know what’s funny?” he said, voice almost hesitant. “I was popular in school. Always had people around me. But I never dated anyone.”
Your brows lifted. “Never?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t feel right. Didn’t want to… waste time on something that didn’t mean anything.”
You swallowed, the words settling heavy in your chest. “That’s the opposite of me. I dated, but… only assholes. Like I was trying to prove I deserved worse than I wanted.”
Dinner was nearly done, plates balanced carelessly on the edge of the bed between you. You were picking at the last few bites of rice when Jungkook’s voice cut in, low and curious.
“Hey—don’t move.”
Your fork froze midair. “What?”
He tilted his chin, eyes glinting with something between mischief and fascination. “Spider. Right here.” He angled his shoulder toward you, where a tiny spider had spun down on a thread, dangling just above his collarbone.
You leaned closer automatically, the scientist in you sparking. “That’s… actually a Salticidae. Jumping spider,” you murmured, surprised at how steady your voice sounded when your heart was suddenly beating so fast.
“Cute little thing, huh?” Jungkook’s smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he held still, watching the spider inch closer to his jaw. “Almost looks like it’s inspecting me.”
You laughed under your breath, crawling onto your knees to get a better look. The bed dipped as you placed a hand on the mattress for balance, your face now just inches from his. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not impressed.”
He smirked. “Neither are you, apparently.”
You ignored that, focusing instead on gently coaxing the spider onto your fingertip before letting it crawl down to the carpet, free to wander.
When you looked back up, Jungkook’s eyes were already waiting for you. Close. Too close.
The air shifted—still, charged. His smirk softened, and in the quiet, you realized you were hovering over him, your knees pressed into the mattress, your body angled toward his.
Neither of you said a word.
Slowly, drawn as if by gravity, you crawled higher, your palms pressing into the sheets on either side of his thighs. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, and then you were kissing him—tentative at first, lips brushing lips, before he leaned up into you.
His hands found your waist, then slid beneath your shirt, fingers gliding against your bare back with a kind of reverence. The touch made you shiver, your body pressing closer as you shifted fully into his lap, straddling him.
The kiss deepened, slow and molten, the taste of him still laced with the faint salt of dinner, the scent of soap lingering from his shower. Your chest brushed against his as he tilted his head, guiding you into something hungrier, something that had clearly been waiting to break loose.
When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, you were both breathing hard, the forgotten plates cooling on the floor. His thumbs traced the dip of your spine as though he needed the anchor, as though letting go of you wasn’t an option.
His thumb lingered at the corner of your mouth, tracing the shape of your lip as though memorizing it. Both of you were still breathing hard, lungs trying to catch up with the heat that had overtaken the room. You stared into his eyes, searching, but his gaze refused to leave your lips—dark, intent, as if he couldn’t look anywhere else.
Slowly, he pressed his thumb past your parted lips, the pad resting on your tongue. You froze for only a heartbeat, instinct taking over as your mouth closed around him. The faint taste of salt, the warmth of his skin, made the moment headier than you expected. His breath hitched, shallow and ragged, chest rising against yours as your tongue brushed against his fingertip.
“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, low and broken, his lips curving like he couldn’t believe you were doing this. He pulled his thumb free just enough to drag it across your bottom lip, smearing spit along the curve before pushing it back in, slower this time, watching the way your mouth yielded to him.
You sucked without thinking, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on his. The air between you thickened until it felt impossible to breathe. He finally tugged his thumb free, glistening, and dragged it down your chin before curling his hand around the back of your neck.
“Come here,” he whispered, voice husky, tugging you back into another kiss.
This one wasn’t tentative—it was urgent, mouths crashing, teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and messy. You clutched at his shoulders as his hands slid up your bare back again, palms flat, keeping you pressed tight against him while your hips ground down against his lap.
The kiss deepened until you forgot about the food cooling on the floor, the soft clatter of plates barely registering when your hand slipped and knocked one askew. All that existed was him—his mouth, hot and insistent against yours, his hands sliding over every inch of your skin like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch first.
Your knees pressed tighter into the mattress as you shifted higher in his lap, straddling him fully, chest to chest. His breath shuddered when you rolled your hips, the hard press of him beneath his sweats undeniable now. He broke from your mouth just long enough to groan, forehead pressed to yours, lips dragging over the edge of your jaw as though he needed to taste more.
Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt, tugging at the fabric until you felt the heat of his skin underneath. He laughed—quiet, strangled—when you mouthed at the line of his throat, his fingers gripping your hips tighter, urging you to move again.
“Fuck—” he hissed when you did, slow and deliberate, dragging your core against him. His grip shifted, one hand cupping the back of your neck again, the other skimming up under your shirt to trace the line of your spine.
When your kisses softened—gentle brushes over his lips like you were savoring him—he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, blown wide, his voice a low rasp as he muttered, “You don’t have to be so gentle with me.”
The words sent a shiver racing down your spine. Before you could respond, he tugged you back in, teeth grazing your bottom lip, biting just enough to sting before soothing the spot with his tongue. His hands slid down to grab at your ass, pulling you harder against him, making the friction sharper, dirtier.
You gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders now, body instinctively pressing closer, chasing more. The kiss turned messy again, desperate, both of you breathing hard into each other’s mouths as if air only existed between your lips.
Your gasp dissolved into another kiss when he tugged you down harder against him, rolling his hips up at the same time. The friction was maddening—your thin shorts dragging against the hard line of him under his sweats. Both of you groaned into each other’s mouths at the same time, the sound desperate, needy.
You broke away for air, panting, forehead pressed to his as your hips found a rhythm against him. His hands guided you, big palms on your waist sliding lower to grip the curve of your ass, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper.
“Like that,” he muttered, jaw tight, his head tipping back when you rocked down harder. The muscles in his neck strained, and for a moment you couldn’t help but kiss along his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his pulse race under your lips.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” you breathed, words tumbling out before you could catch them. His answering groan was guttural, his hips jerking up into you with more force.
The slow drag turned messy, frantic—your body chasing relief, his meeting you with the same urgency. The air was thick with the sound of your breathing, your muffled moans breaking every time his cock pressed perfectly against you through the layers of fabric.
He caught your mouth again, messy and wet, tongue tangling with yours while his grip on you tightened. Each grind had you clinging to him harder, your nails raking down his back, your body shuddering with the building heat in your core.
“Don’t stop,” he rasped against your lips, voice breaking with need. His thighs shifted beneath you, bracing, giving you more leverage, urging you to move faster.
You buried your face in his shoulder, biting back a cry as you rode him, every rock of your hips sending sparks through your body. His chest heaved against yours, his hands practically holding you in place as he thrust up to meet you, every movement sharper, hungrier.
The world blurred—just sweat, heat, the press of his body and the dizzy rush of pleasure coiling tighter, tighter—
Your rhythm turned frantic, sloppy, every drag of his cock against your soaked shorts pushing you closer to the edge. He met you thrust for thrust, hips snapping up into yours like he couldn’t get enough, the fabric between you nothing but torture now.
“Jungkook—” you gasped, nails biting into his shoulders, head thrown back as the tension in your belly threatened to snap.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, voice thick, his head burying against your neck. His teeth grazed your skin as his hips bucked up harder, faster. “Don’t hold back—fuck—just let go for me.”
The words wrecked you. You ground down harder, your thighs trembling as the pressure exploded, your orgasm tearing through you. A sharp cry left your throat as your body convulsed against him, clinging desperately to his slick skin.
He cursed low, broken, shoving up into you as he came undone, rutting through his release with his jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut. His grip bruised at your waist as he held you flush against him, riding out every desperate grind until his body finally stilled under yours.
For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, your foreheads pressed together, both of you trembling and dazed.
Then his voice came soft, almost reverent, brushing against your lips.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, thumb stroking your cheek. His tone was hoarse but steady, like he meant every syllable. “So fucking perfect. You feel so good… you make me feel so good.”
His eyes searched yours, tender despite the sweat and the mess, his words breaking through the haze and sinking into you like a vow.
You slumped against him, chest still heaving, the sticky warmth between you both proof of what just happened. The reality of it washed over you all at once and you found yourself murmuring, “That was… impulsive.”
Jungkook tilted his head, dark eyes on you, thumb tracing lazy circles along your back. “Maybe,” he admitted softly, “but don’t act like I imagined this.”
You blinked up at him, confused, until he gave a tiny, almost guilty smile.
“I overheard you with Eliza earlier,” he said, voice quiet, almost tentative. “When she asked if we’d hooked up yet. The way you froze? The way you couldn’t answer?” His hand moved up, brushing your hair back gently. “I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling it.”
Your lips parted, embarrassment flooding your face, but he didn’t give you the chance to spiral.
“And I’ve been wondering all day if the tension was just in my head.” His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, tender. “Guess I got my answer.”
You swallowed hard, shifting slightly in his lap, still clinging to a last thread of hesitation. “But what if this makes the rest of the trip awkward?” you whispered.
He huffed a laugh through his nose, leaning his forehead against yours. “The shared bed is awfully convenient, don’t you think?” His lips quirked, teasing but still warm. “Only took us a day.”
That dragged a reluctant laugh from you, soft and quiet. You hadn’t even realized his fingers had found their way into your hair until the gentle tug of them made you lean closer, melting under his touch.
“Hey,” he murmured, eyes soft but steady, voice dipping into something so sure it made your stomach flip. “You don’t have to overthink this. We’re okay. I want this—want you. Nothing’s gonna change that.”
And somehow, the reassurance landed perfectly, wrapping around you like safety itself.
You rest your forehead against his chest, breathing in his scent. It’s quiet apart from the hotel air humming low, and you imagine if you stayed in this moment forever, you almost could.
Then Jungkook shifts, clearing his throat. “I should probably, you know… change,” He teases lightly, voice thick with warmth. “Before this all… dries.” His tone was light, teasing. He straightens, carefully sliding you off his lap. You land on the bed softly, kneeling, watching him—skin still damp, hair dark and slick—from where you sit. He reaches for the bathroom door, pausing just inside the frame, turning back with a look that’s half playful, half something tender. Then he disappears behind the door.
He disappeared into the bathroom, door clicking shut behind him, and the second he was gone, you scrambled for your own bag. The adrenaline still buzzed in your body, but you worked quickly, tugging on an oversized tee and shorts, hesitating just long enough before deciding to leave your bra folded neatly at the bottom of your suitcase.
For the first time since arriving in Belize, your skin felt free, and more importantly—you didn’t feel the need to hide it from him anymore.
The days blurred together after that first night. Every morning started with the two of you brushing past each other in the cramped hotel bathroom, trying not to bump elbows while you traded turns at the sink. Every evening ended the same—plates on the floor, laughter filling the room, and the two of you pressed so close together in bed it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.
You went to the restaurant Jungkook had spotted, the whole group filling tables with food and chatter. Everyone swapped stories about their finds, specimens carefully catalogued, and laughed a little louder after a few drinks. You remember how his hand found yours under the table, how you didn’t pull away.
At night, though, that was yours and his time. Quiet dinners in your room, whispered jokes in the dark, limbs tangled under thin hotel sheets. It wasn’t just the intimacy—it was the comfort. The warmth.
By the time the trip wrapped, the bond felt unshakable.
At the airport bus, everyone dragged their luggage toward the waiting line, voices a little hoarse with exhaustion. Jungkook drifted off with the guys, their laughter echoing from the back of the group, while you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with Eliza.
“I can’t believe it’s already over,” she sighed.
You nodded. “Yeah. Honestly, I was so anxious the first night. Sharing a bed with Jungkook…” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks warm.
Eliza’s head snapped toward you. “Sharing a bed?” she repeated, her brows lifting.
You blinked, confused. “Yeah? We had one bed in our room.”
Her mouth dropped open, then she burst into laughter so sudden it made people turn around. “Y/N—what? We were all supposed to have separate beds!”
Your eyes widened, stomach dropping. “Wait, what?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she gasped through her laughter.
“I just thought everyone had to share beds!” you blurted, mortified, which only made her laugh harder, clutching her stomach.
The bus driver started calling for boarding, and you could still hear Eliza’s giggles echoing as you tried to process the realization.
When the two of you boarded, Jungkook slid into a window seat without hesitation, and you followed, settling beside him. The hum of the bus filled the silence, students already pulling out headphones or leaning against the glass. Jungkook slipped his arm around you like it was second nature, tugging you close until your side fit snug against his.
You hesitated, cheeks warming, before saying softly, “So, apparently… us only having one bed? That was a booking mistake.”
He turned to you, eyes wide for a split second before a grin spread across his face. His laugh rumbled low in his chest, shaking both of you. “A mistake, huh?”
You nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah. Eliza nearly cried laughing when I told her. I thought everyone had to share beds.”
He squeezed your shoulder gently, eyes still sparkling. “Well… I wouldn’t change it. Not one second. Worth every moment.”
The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, heat crawling up your neck. You let out a small, nervous laugh, lowering your gaze to your hands. “You’re ridiculous.”
But your smile gave you away.
As the bus lurched into motion, the exhaustion of the past days finally caught up. You leaned into him, head resting against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand smoothed over your arm, holding you close, safe. Protective.
By the time the highway stretched out behind you, your eyes had already slipped shut, sleep finding you in the warmth of his embrace.
pairing: non-idol! taesan x reader
genre: enemies to lovers + college AU
word count: 2.7k
cw: small mention of inadequate feelings ( and a jaehyun feature. )
The both of you existed in a bizarre duality. “Taesan and Y/N,” both deeply entrenched in the world of music production and composition, meaning your academic paths constantly overlapped. It was almost inevitable that you shared the same major-related classes, but fate, or perhaps a mischievous scheduler, insisted on pairing you and Taesan in unrelated electives too. You both were on campus roughly ninety percent of the time. The remaining ten percent was spent in shared, quiet spaces; the over-roasted coffee shop or the worn-out park bench. Not the most creative spots, but anywhere they could seek inspiration for their next composition. Despite this constant, almost suffocating proximity, an unnerving silence persisted. You felt you should at least be on a first-name basis. Yet, Taesan offered no acknowledgment. At All. Whenever you saw him, he spared you nor anyone else a glance, headphones on, existing solely in his own musical bubble.
This silence was never more painful than during class presentations. Your work would invariably receive positive feedback from peers, but Taesan’s seat would remain conspicuously silent. Not only does it piss you off, but it makes you a bit insecure. In response, of course, you adopted the same, cold tactic of choosing to ignore him entirely. It was clear to anybody that he was a musical prodigy. A master of instrumentals, lyrics, and arrangement. His brilliance, so casually displayed, fed a quiet, persistent insecurity in you, prompting you to push harder, striving for something just as amazing. What you couldn't see was that Taesan felt that same sharp, competitive ache whenever your work played, sounding so effortlessly brilliant. This cold, silent competition of "who did it better?" defined your first semester and...relationship? Both succeeded, both excelled, achieving almost identical high marks.
Then, the curriculum shifted.
For the new semester, the professor announced the final project; a collaborative piece. Partners were assigned, and with an almost predictable, soul-crushing inevitability, you and Taesan were paired. The chances, it turned out, were 100%. For days, the silence held firm. Too stubborn to be the first to break the ice, you continued to ignore him, and he did the same. The project timeline was ticking, but the tension was a physical barrier between you. The ceasefire was forced by an unexpected outside force: Myung Jaehyun. Your fellow music major and apparent mutual friend.
A text notification broke your focus one afternoon-
Jaehyun: “woww, why is Taesan asking me for your phone number ☺️”
You stared at the text, momentarily dumbfounded, then immediately defaulted to the practical.
You: “Probably because we have a project to do?”
Jaehyun: “probably? hm.” he replied just seconds after, the text vibrating with implied knowledge.
You: “Just give him my number and be quiet.”
Jaehyun: “dont think I forgot about you saying you have a crush on this ‘kinda rude guy in my class’”
You: “I NEVER said that”
Jaehyun: “okay. ‘he’s so rude but so cool…kind of admirable.’ same thing, y/n”
You ignored the jab. Moments later, a text arrived from an unfamiliar number, requesting to “just meet at the campus library…if you want.”
The walk to the library was a knot of anxiety. Taesan had never addressed you directly. How were you supposed to act? Once inside, you scanned the tables and spotted him, focused on his Mac, scrolling through GarageBand. “He still uses GarageBand?” you thought to yourself, but made sure to un-furrow your brows before he noticed. You walked over and sat down, hoping the move was noticeable enough to warrant attention. It was. He immediately took off his headphones and looked up, straightening his posture. The silence that followed was agonizingly awkward. “So…what do you wanna do?” he finally asked. You mirrored his caution. “I don’t know, what do you wanna do?”
More silence.
“Well I guess we can pick a theme first. Do we want light, dark, theatrical, poppy…” he offered, seemingly trying to break the tension. “I’m not sure…um” you start, keeping an eye on his body language as you spoke. It was just as awkward as yours. You brought up something the professor had mentioned doing for the project. “We do have the option to make it into a song instead of just the instrumentals. I know that you sing, so did you want to do that instead? Or?” You offered, still weary of his reaction and rejection. “Only if you sing too,” he replied, eyes locking onto your own now that you piqued his interest. “I’m not that great at singing though…” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm at the memory of past failed attempts. “I think your voice is great,” he stated simply, immediately replacing his overall persona of nonchalance with a confusing rush of flustered bashfulness. In that moment, his tongue moved too fast for his brain to process what he was going to admit. “When did you hear me sing?” you asked, stunned. Taesan froze, his eyes widening slightly. “Just a few times when I’d go to the production room, but you were already in there.” You nodded slowly, trying not to overthink the implication that he had been listening. More than once, “We can make it a song then. I don’t mind singing.” You say, trying to move past that conversation. Again, he just nods. Though he didn’t say it, he was grateful for your decision. “Great, so now we pick a theme.” he says, opening his notebook. They settled on 'dark'. Not scary or overtly sad, but something with a deliberate, low energy and tempo designed to convey a complex emotional feeling. Something everyone could interpret in their own way.
This project should be lightwork, especially with the two of you combined. Yet slowly, painstakingly, you began to collaborate. You were genuinely surprised when Taesan suggested using elements from one of your previous projects from the last semester. He had been paying attention. In turn, you recommended merging both of your instrumentals together to form a powerful lead-in to the chorus, a true synthesis of your individual sounds. When the combined track played back, Taesan’s face lit up. He worked excitedly, turning back to you with a genuine smile when the section hit exactly right. It was the first time you had ever seen him truly smile at you, and it ripped a flutter through you heart. “He’s cute when he works, too…” you thought, watching his lips pout and cheeks puff in concentration. Then, you sternly reminded yourself to focus. Now is not the time. You had only discussed the project with him. That’s all you will let it come to.
A few more weeks passed, and the song was nearly complete, the lyrics perfectly placed by Taesan. Feeling the project momentum nearing a fever pitch, and wanting to put some distance between yourself and him with your confusing, escalating feelings, you suggested the both of you take a short break to focus on other classes. He agreed, of course, joking that your voice was “actually starting to haunt my dreams.” He laughed, but immediately worried if you’d take it negatively. It’s safe to say the master of many crafts hadn’t mastered the art of flirting. You felt a small pang of sadness, resigning to the fact that their connection, however deep it became after all these days working together, was purely platonic. Despite his past silence, Taesan was incredibly observant; he remembered your past work, memorized the sticker ticket on your latte order and brought it without a word? Sweet, yet you had to remind yourself again. He is definitely just being friendly. Yet, a few days later, Taesan texted, asking you to meet him at the cafe. You were caught up on your assignments and couldn't claim to be busy without the fear of him finding out. You had the same classes, after all, and you both were lucky your professors didn’t assign much out-of-class work. So, you agreed. When you get there, you expected him to be there with his laptop open, ready to work. Instead, he was just sitting at a table, surface bare, scrolling on his phone. Your confusion must have been obvious. When you sat down, tapping your foot nervously, he asked if you were okay. “Where’s your computer?” you asked. “I left it in my dorm room. We were taking a break, right?” he asked, slightly confused, eyes darting to from your face to his hands multiple times. “Oh…I thought you asked me to meet you here to work on the project…” you stated. He paused, scratched the back of his neck, and gave you a pretty awkward, yet sincere smile. “I should have said it in the text, but I was just hungry. Thought you would’ve wanted something from here too. I doubt you ate today…Jaehyun mentioned you forget to eat sometimes.” He said so casually, passing you one of the paper menus. One out of two of your internal questions, “Are we friends or just co-workers?”, was answered. You were friends, and that you could make peace with.
You both ordered food and drinks, which he paid for, with the promise that you both talked about anything and everything but music: how both of you met Jaehyun, your old pets, and the infamous half-decade old “is water wet” debate. The conversation flowed easily for nearly two hours until you guys realized they were the only customers left. You quickly left to let the workers close up shop, and started the walk back to the dorms. The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t cold—it was comfortable. Taesan spoke first. “I’m glad we got paired together. If we didn’t, I’d think you’d still hate me,” he said, a relieved huff of laugh escaping him. You stopped walking. “I never hated you! I thought you hated me up until maybe two weeks ago?”
“Two weeks ago? Why?” he asked, brows knit together and eyes squinted. You couldn’t believe it. He thought you were being ridiculous. You laughed, disbelief heavy in your lungs. “You never reacted to my presentations!”
“Neither did you.” He replied as he crossed his arms and took a step back to look at you, amused at your reactions. “You also never talked to me in any of the classes we had together,” you shot back.
“Yeah, because you never talked to me!” He laughed again, and you both sighed. The sound of pure realization. “Wow…we’re the worst at communicating, huh.” you said, your hands now propped on your hips as you shook your head to yourself.
“There’s that…and, I was too scared to react to your compositions. I felt like if I gave any comment or critique, then you’d ruin my life when I presented,” he confessed. You laughed again, thinking it was some sort of joke, until you examined his face. He’s not laughing. Your response was anything but smooth, stammering for a few seconds before you eventually spat it out. “You really think that your songs weren’t good? Everyone always dreaded presenting after you because we knew you’d have something amazing. The whole class loves what you make, you know that?” You projected your deep insecurity onto the collective "everyone." He smiled, a quiet thank you. “Well, knowing that you don’t actually hate me makes me feel even better than knowing the rest of the class likes my work.”
You felt your heart lighten, a genuine smile replacing the shock.
Days rolled into a pattern. Texts from Taesan were common, ranging from requests like “Do you think you can help me study for psych?”, to random, endearing and sometimes nagging observations, such as “I really think that giving the ducks on campus so many treats to eat isn’t good for them.” Your relationship grew exponentially, becoming a fast, strong close friendship. You managed to keep your romantic feelings at bay, perfectly happy with this new, profound level of connection. Taesan was a booster, an antidote to stress, making you even wonder why you were stressed in the first place.
Then, you returned to the project.
The final touches went smoothly. Taesan recorded his vocals, and you edited them into the background of the track, adding distortions for effect. He listened back, nodding, smiling at the results. You asked him what should be changed and braced yourself to finally get the vocalization of his critique. Yet, he just shakes his head no. “I really don’t have to fix anything. You did great, as always,” he said, pausing the track.
As you were about to reply, the lights in the studio dimmed slightly. The system powered down. He stared blankly at the dead screen, waiting for it to reboot, his irritation evident. Once the computer came back to life, he checked the file to find that the file, somehow, was gone. “…I don’t think the file saved, y/n, I’m sorry,” he said worriedly, clicking through folders in a desperate search. “What? No, it’s fine! I saved it on my usb before we even opened it on here, remember?” You told him, and pulled the drive attached to your “school flair” keychain. The relief on his face was instant and profound as he stood up and pulled you into a tight hug, making you laugh at his dramatic reaction. “God…why are you so great?” he asked, shaking you slightly before finally letting go. You shrugged and smiled at him for his uncharacteristically silly gesture before turning back to the computer to plug the drive in. Before the metal touched the port, you heard him say:
“I could really kiss you right now.”
You tried to dismiss it, to process it as just one of his sudden, playful, relief-induced jokes. You turned back to face him, trying to keep from becoming awkward, but the semi-forced laugh you let out failed you.
“Yeah. The same to you…” you replied, the words echoing their true feelings, a painful, ignored truth scratching at the surface of your heart. You truly thought your emotions would eventually fade. But, the sudden feeling of his hand resting gently on your cheek, warm and deliberate, and his lips on yours just seconds after made it now an impossible thought.
Your mind went blank, processing the shock of the action before the feeling took over. When it did, you didn't hesitate, kissing him back with all the confusing, bottled-up affection you possessed.
When you broke apart, breathless, you had to ask, “If I didn’t say I wanted to kiss you too, what would you have done it?” Holding and swinging your hands in front of him, he carefully thinks of a response. “I would’ve asked if I could. And then you’d say yes, and then I’d kiss you,” he said, his expression only serious, before cracking up at the absurdity of his own confidence. You started to laugh too, and playfully pushed him. “How would you have known I’d say yes?” You asked.
“I mean, when you tell people like Jaehyun a secret, it never stays a secret, you know?”
Your eyebrows shot up as the realization hit.
“So you knew I had a crush on you this whole time? And never said or did anything about it?”
“I had to be sure…It was a while ago that he told me. Didn’t know if you were like. Already with someone else?”
“I think you would’ve known. We literally saw each other everywhere, remember?”
He just nodded, his smile widening into something radiant. “Well. We could make up for that time right now.” He stated confidently before the fear that you’d misinterpret his words hit. “Like, dating. Each other is what I meant. We could date now…if you want, maybe-“
“Of course, Taesan.” You said, allowing the final, confusing knots of your relationship to finally unravel into something beautiful and certain.
“Woah, actually?” He asked, his smile impossibly bigger.
“Yes! You thought after all of this, I’d say no?”
“Honestly didn’t think this far in…” He confessed, looking off in the distance while absentmindedly playing with your fingers, inevitably bringing back that familiar feeling in your stomach. You’re about to say something until your text notification sounds.
Jaehyun: “whatever you two painfully oblivious love bugs are doing in the production room, I need you to make it quick pls. I’m about to lose inspo.”
Taesan reads it over your shoulder, an amused smile forming on his lips. “Let’s not tell him about this yet. Unless you’re ready for him expecting us to thank him for this happening.” He says
“True. Even though we should…he gave you my number. That saved our grade, too.”
“Yeah, you weren’t gonna talk to me at all, huh?”
“Nope.”
my asks + reqs are always open! I would love to hear from anyone <3
𐔌 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ 𐦯 ┆after you find out spider-man’s identity, you couldn’t help but put his ‘spidey senses’ to the test..
╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ spiderman!sim jaeyun x f!reader.ᐟ ┆w. 2,224┆slice of life. fluff. high school au. established relationship.
ᴍɪᴠ ɞ┆i rewatched all of the spider man movies since the new one is gonna come out soon and decided i wanted to come out with a spider man!jake. i want to make a longer one so have this in the meantime!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
you stare at jake from across the room, his gaze already locked onto yours as he sits in his desk chair. you squint, still trying to process what he just said.
“so you can just… sense when something’s going to happen?” you ask, head tilting slightly.
he shrugs, eyes drifting as he searches for the right way to explain it. “i guess. it’s not like i know everything. it just… comes to me. like breathing.. if that makes sense.”
you hum softly, not fully convinced. “but i thought the whole point was to know before it even starts?”
“i mean, yeah,” he says, glancing back down at his web shooters, fingers moving as he adjusts something. “but i’m not gonna suddenly sense someone getting robbed across the city. it’s more like… around me.”
you lean back on his bed, letting his words settle as your eyes wander around the room. they land on an eraser sitting beside a notebook and pencil on his counter.
slowly, you glance back at him. he’s still hunched over, focused, completely unaware. a grin creeps onto your face.
you reach for the eraser as quietly as you can, holding your breath as you pull back your arm—then toss it without thinking. it nearly misses him, just barely clipping the back of his head.
he jolts forward with a small noise.
you slap a hand over your mouth, laughter bubbling up at the sound of the soft thud.
he immediately brings a hand to the back of his head, grabbing the eraser after it bounces off the wall and lands on his desk. then he turns to you, eyes narrowing slightly. “did you just throw that at me?”
your eyes widen, caught. your hand drops from your mouth. “it’s cause—” you start, but the smile you’re trying to hide gives you away instantly.
he nods slowly, lips curling as he mimics you, “uh huh.”
“well,” you say, trying to recover, “you said you had a ‘spider-sense,’ so… i thought you would’ve caught it or something.”
he laughs, setting the eraser back down. “i do. just not for school supplies.”
you nod, still eyeing him like you don’t fully buy it. “right… right…”
he raises a brow. “you think i’m lying?”
you shake your head quickly. “no, no. i’m just… questioning.”
he leans back slightly in his chair, studying you now instead of his web shooters. there’s something amused in the way his eyes narrow, like he’s trying to figure you out just as much as you’re trying to figure him out.
“questioning,” he repeats, slow, like he doesn’t quite believe you.
you shrug, picking at a loose thread on his blanket. “can you blame me? you’re basically telling me you’ve got built-in danger radar. that’s not natural.”
“nothing about it is natural, i literally have superpowers,” he mutters, though there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “and it’s not a radar.”
“then what is it?” you ask, crossing your arms.
he hesitates. just for a second.
“it’s… a feeling,” he says finally. “like something’s wrong before you even know why.”
you glance up at him, watching the way his fingers slow against the metal in his hands. this time, you don’t joke. “that sounds exhausting.”
he lets out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh but without the humor. “you get used to it.”
there’s a small pause.
you sit up a little straighter, curiosity getting the better of you again. “so it didn’t go off just now?”
his eyes flick to you. “no.”
“at all?”
“no,” he repeats.
you narrow your eyes. he sighs, already knowing where this is going. “don’t.”
you reach for the pencil.
“i said don’t.” he pulls his hand out in defense.
you grin.
this time, you fake a throw—your hand jerking forward without actually letting go. his body reacts instantly. he flinches, shoulders tensing, head ducking just slightly.
you freeze. he freezes too. slowly, you lower your hand, the pencil still in your grip.
“you liar,” you say, barely above a whisper, a smile breaking through anyway. “wouldn’t you have not sensed anything since i didn’t throw it?”
he exhales, running a hand over his face. “what are you talking about?”
“you ducked.”
“because i literally saw a possible threat in front of me,” he shoots back, pointing at you. “that’s different.”
you laugh, tossing the pencil lightly onto the bed this time. “you’re right, i guess i just have to try different methods to put it to the test. i need to make sure you don’t see it coming.”
he shakes his head, a soft smile slipping through. “do you really have to add to everything i already deal with?”
you shrug, a playful glint in your eyes. “someone needs to keep things interesting.”
he lets out a quiet breath through his nose, like he’s trying not to laugh but failing anyway. his head tilts slightly as he looks at you, that same soft smile lingering.
“you’re unbelievable,” he mutters.
you grin, shifting on the bed so you’re facing him more fully. “and yet, here i am. in your room, watching you fix your suit.”
he huffs, shaking his head again, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. if anything, he looks comfortable.
“you’re lucky my reflexes are good,” he says, glancing back at his web shooters, though his attention clearly isn’t on them anymore.
“mm,” you hum, unconvinced. “debatable.”
his eyes flick back to you instantly. “debatable?”
you nod, leaning back on your hands. “you did just get hit in the head by an eraser.”
“you cheap-shotted me,” he argues, turning in his chair to face you fully now. “that doesn’t count.”
you smile, tilting your head. “sounds like an excuse.”
he narrows his eyes at you, but there’s a spark there—something competitive. “you wanna test it again?”
you raise a brow, intrigued. “what, like a rematch?”
“yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “but this time i’m ready.”
you glance around the room, pretending to consider it, before your eyes land back on him. “but you’ll see it coming, and what’s the fun in that?”
he stays quiet for a moment, thinking. “i could be blindfolded?”
you smirk. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
his expression drops instantly, color rushing to his face. “what—? no. what are you talking about?” he covers his face, half-groaning.
you laugh. “i’m kidding.”
you tilt your head. “so, if i win? what do i get?”
he rolls his eyes, avoiding your gaze, though his lips twitch. “you won’t.”
you laugh softly. “wow. confident.”
“realistic,” he corrects.
you push yourself off the bed, standing, brushing your hands off like you’re actually preparing for something serious. “okay, spider-boy. don’t cry when you lose.”
he stands too, setting his web shooters aside, rolling his shoulders like he’s bracing for impact. “just throw something already.”
you smile sweetly. and then you don’t move. a beat of silence passes. his brows pull together slightly. “what are you—”
you grab a pillow and launch it straight at him. this time, he catches it without hesitation.
there’s a beat of silence. then he smirks. “told you.”
you blink at him, then narrow your eyes. “…okay, that was a warm-up. it doesn’t count—you literally knew i was going to throw something. that’s just reflexes. anyone could do that.”
he lets out a quiet scoff, shifting the pillow in his hands before tossing it lightly back onto the bed.
“anyone?” he repeats, brow raised.
you nod, crossing your arms like you’ve already won the argument. “yeah. don’t let it get to your head.”
he studies you for a second, then exhales a small laugh, shaking his head. “you just don’t wanna admit it.”
“you wish,” you shoot back.
there’s a pause—brief, but charged with that same playful tension that’s been building. then his eyes flick toward your hands. “do it again.”
you narrow your eyes. “what?”
“throw something,” he says, calmer this time. “but don’t make it obvious.”
you tilt your head, suspicious. “and you won’t look?”
he hesitates, then turns around, giving you his back. “fine. i won’t look. i’ll even close my eyes.”
you watch him carefully, trying to spot any sign he’s cheating—but he stays still, shoulders relaxed, head angled slightly down.
you glance around the room, quieter this time. more deliberate. your eyes land on the same eraser from before.
you pick it up slowly, holding it between your fingers as you study him. he doesn’t move.
you take a step to the side. still nothing. your grip tightens just slightly—then you flick it forward.
before it even reaches him, his hand lifts, catching it cleanly behind his back.
you freeze.
he turns around slowly, holding the eraser between his fingers, a small, knowing smile forming. “still think anyone could do that?”
you stare at him, caught between disbelief and something else you can’t quite name.
“…okay,” you admit, quieter this time.
he raises a brow. “okay?”
you point at him, narrowing your eyes again, though there’s a hint of a smile breaking through. “i guess you’re cool, with your heightened senses, or whatever. don’t let it get to your head, spider-boy.”
his smile widens, just a little. he grabs his web shooters, slipping them onto his wrists before dropping back onto his bed. “too late.”
you watch him from where you stand, rolling your eyes playfully—when suddenly, something tugs at you. you barely have time to react before a thin strand of web catches around your wrist, pulling you forward. “jake—”
you stumble, the sudden force dragging you across the room until you land beside him with a soft thud against the mattress.
he doesn’t even look surprised. just turns his head slightly, that same smug smile still there. you stare at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “you’re so annoying.”
“you’re still here,” he points out casually. you let out a quiet scoff, trying to ignore the way your heart’s beating a little faster. “yeah, against my will.”
“sure,” he hums. he gets comfortable, shifting closer until he’s practically tucked into you, a quiet sigh leaving him.
you glance down at him, a grin pulling at your lips. “you seem comfortable.”
“that was basically training,” he mumbles, voice slightly muffled as he buries his face into your neck. “with everything you had me doing, i think i deserve a little rest.”
you laugh, trying to push him off, though there’s not much effort behind it. “oh, please—what are you going to do if we get caught, huh?”
he barely moves, only adjusting so he’s more comfortable, like the thought doesn’t even concern him.
“then we get caught,” he says simply.
you blink at that, caught off guard. “that’s your plan?”
he lifts his head just enough to look at you, lips twitching. “what, you want me to web us out the window or something?”
you pause, considering it for a second. “…i mean, that would be impressive.”
he huffs a quiet laugh, dropping his head back against you.
“relax,” he murmurs. “no one’s coming in.”
you raise a brow, still skeptical. “and your super senses are telling you that?”
there’s a small pause.
“…maybe,” he admits. you narrow your eyes, but the smile on your face gives you away. “you’re unbelievable.”
“and yet,” he mumbles, already settling in again, “you’re still letting me lay here.”
you settle back against him, letting the moment quiet down again.
“doesn’t look like you’d let me go anyways,” you tease softly.
he exhales a quiet laugh, arms still loosely around you as if proving your point without trying.
for a moment, it’s just the two of you—no teasing, no movement. just stillness. the steady rhythm of breathing. the faint sound of each other’s heartbeat. everything else feels far away.
then—the door swings open.
“jake! i made some—” jake’s aunt freezes mid-step. so does everything else. “oh.”
jake jolts upright instantly, scrambling out of the moment like he’s been caught in a crime scene. you push yourself up on your elbows, looking between him and her, barely holding back a laugh.
“aunt may! this isn’t—” jake starts, voice cracking with panic. “we weren’t—”
she already starts backing out of the room. “i’m just going to— there’s food downstairs if you’re both hungry. be safe. um… use protection.”
there’s a beat of silence.
jake looks like he might actually combust. “AUNT MAY!”
she gives an awkward little wave. “okay, okay, i’m leaving.”
the door clicks shut. dead silence.
then jake drops back onto the bed like his soul just left his body, one arm over his face. “i’m never leaving this room again.”
you burst out laughing, turning onto your side to look at him. “i literally told you too!”
he groans into his arm. “she did not have to say that.”
“she’s hilarious,” you say, still laughing. “that was iconic. we’re both clothed too, which makes it funnier.”
he turns his head slightly toward you, cheeks still bright red. “don’t encourage her.”
you grin. “so much for your spider-senses, huh?”
he lets out a defeated sound. “shut up.”
before you can tease him again, he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you back in, tighter this time—like he’s trying to hide you from the world and also from himself.
“you’re not telling anyone about this,” he mutters.
you smile, settling back against him. “no promises.”
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
: ̗̀➛ gallery
please DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate ANY of my works in any way.
summary. y/n finally lands her dream role for the biggest performance of her career but she doesn't realise that when ambition and love collide, the fallout is inevitable. the closer she gets to greatness, the more it consumes her and sunghoon is left to helplessly watch as the girl he loves slowly disappears. pairing. idol bf!sunghoon x ballerina!reader. mentions. established relationship, overworking, burnout, slight references to ed, y/n is a bit mean, crying, comfort, fluff. i don’t really know much about ballet in general or ballerinas so i hope any references here aren’t awkwardly wrong and i apologise beforehand :)
the first time y/n got the call, she genuinely thought she had heard wrong.
it had been one of those rehearsals that left every muscle in her body trembling. the kind where the studio mirrors had started to fog at the edges and the air smelled faintly of rosin and sweat mixed with perfume and the sharp, almost comforting scent of worn pointe shoes. her hair, once pinned into a neatly flawless bun that morning, had loosened into tiny wisps around her face, the damp strands clinging to the back of her neck.
she had packed everything away into her bag and was walking down the street to the bus stop, sipping on her water when her phone had buzzed in her pocket. she frowned, thinking about who could be calling her during work hours, yet her stomach dropped when she saw her artistic director’s name displayed on the screen.
immediately, a hundred thoughts hit her at once.
did i mess something up? was one of the lifts off? did they want to talk about mondays schedule? did i do something wrong in rehearsals?
her fingers suddenly felt clumsy as she answered with a breathless, steady “hello?”
the voice on the other end was familiar and professional, “hi y/n, are you somewhere you can talk?”
the question made her pulse spike. her heart began to pound against her ribs and for one terrifying second, genuine panic flashed through her and she didn’t know why - to her, she didn’t do anything wrong but what if there was something she didn’t realise she’d done? what if someone complained? what if-
“yes.” she said quickly, standing straighter in the half-empty street, “of course.”
there was a tiny pause. it wasn’t long but long enough for her mind to spiral. and then…
“we’d like you to lead the winter gala.”
for a moment, the words didn’t register. her lips parted in shock as everything around her completely blurred. someone nearby laughed, a bus hissed to a stop, a few cars drove by but it all felt far away. muted. like someone had shoved the entire city underwater.
y/n just stood there under the faint glow of the street lamp, staring blankly ahead with her phone clutched to her ear, “i’m sorry?”
her artistic director laughed softly, “you heard me. you’ve been cast as the principal lead.”
her breath caught. the lead. the lead. not second cast, not alternate, not the understudy, but the lead. the main role. the one everyone in the company had been pressuring themselves for, the role every dancer dreamed of.
the lead dancer of the winter gala.
it wasn’t just another performance on the company calendar, it was the performance. the biggest production of the entire season. the kind of show critics reviewed in full speeds, the kind people booked tickets for months in advance, the kind that had the entire world of ballet and dance watching. every year it sold out instantly as industry directors came, former principals came, even some celebrities.
and for dancers? it was everything. careers had been made from one standout winter gala performance. promotions, contracts, recognition, opportunities. for some, it was a role that changed everything.
and it just been given to her. she didn’t even know what to feel.
“oh my god.”
her words were barely above a whisper and her director smiled on the other end, trying to hold back her own happiness. her tone softened, “you’ve earned this, y/n. i’ll send your schedule over in a bit. rehearsals begin monday. congratulations and see you soon.”
the line clicked dead but y/n stayed frozen on the pavement. people moved around her, the bus at the stop pulled away, cold wind brushed through her hair but she couldn’t move.
and then she laughed. a breathless, shaky laugh that turned into tears immediately. her hand flew to her mouth as the shock instantly turned into excitement, happiness, her heart racing with relief. she’d been chosen, out of maybe a hundred participants, maybe even a few more give or take - yet out of all that talent, all those different dancers, all those different personalities and styles of dancing… they had picked her.
“oh my god.” she whispered again. her tears were slipping down her cheeks by now.
and without even thinking, she opened her phone again and went to call the first person she needed to tell. the only person who would be the proudest, the most happiest for her.
he picked up on the second ring.
“hey pretty.” sunghoon’s voice came through warm and a little breathless. there was noise in the background: laughter, voices, the squeak of trainers on wooden floor. he was at dance practice.
“you done? wait- one second.” his voice shifted slightly like he was moving away from the others, the music and voices getting quieter as he sighed and took a seat on the couch, “okay, what’s up? are you all done because i have about an hour left and i’ll meet you at home. did you miss me that bad, huh?”
even through tears, a breathless laugh escaped her.
“hoon.”
the second he heard her voice crack, sunghoon straightened up.
“hey.” his tone instantly hardened, “what happened?”
she swallowed, trying not to cry harder at the soft concern in his tone, “i got it.”
it was silent for a second on his end as his brows furrowed and then- “wha- the gala?”
she nodded frantically as if he could see her. her lips trembled, her tears practically drying against her skin under the cold breeze and she sniffled, entirely in happiness.
“the lead.”
there was another beat of silence, one filled with anticipation and silent shock. and then, instantly, there was absolute chaos as sunghoon practically screamed “NO WAY.” his voice shot up so fast she had to pull the phone slightly from her ear.
in the background, she could hear the conversation die down before someone, it sounded like jay, screamed back, “what happened?!”
another voice, definitely jungwon, also asked, “why are you yelling?”
sunghoon didn't even answer as he grinned from ear to ear, clutching his phone as if that could bring her closer to him, as if it could give her all the hugs and comfort he wanted to give in that moment, “baby, you seriously got it?”
“yes!” she laughed through her tears and he laughed along, tiny breathless gasps, “oh my god. i knew it- i knew it!”
there were more muffled voices in the background, some faint footsteps before she heard jake, now standing a little closer, “did she get it?”
sunghoon, with absolutely zero intention of being subtle, practically yelled back, “she got the lead role!”
and almost immediately, there was a chorus of loud reactions, loud cheers filled with happiness and clapping and encouraging words as all of his members congratulated her through the phone. y/n couldn't stop smiling, her cheeks hurt and she had to move to the side of the street, hoping no one could hear the loud screams coming from her phone.
she thanked all of them before her boyfriend came back on the line, his voice calmer now but still glowing with pride, “baby....” the way he said it made her heart ache, “i'm so proud of you.”
her eyes filled with tears again, “hoon…”
“no, actually,” he continued, and now there was that playful teasing slipping back into his hoarse voice, “i need everyone to know i was right.”
“oh my god-”
in the background, jake called out, “he literally wouldn't shut up about it!”
sunghoon ignored him and focused completely on her. his lips still displayed that wide grin, his eyes twinkling with endless pride, love and joy, “you owe me.”
“for what?”
“for being your personal well-wisher.”
she laughed into her hand, wiping away her tears, “is that so?”
he hummed, “yeah, i expect celebratory kisses and food- oh, and we have to go out for drinks and ice cream.”
“you're unbelievable.”
“no, you're unbelievable.” he said dramatically, “lead of the winter gala? that's my girl.”
y/n's heart squeezed and his voice softened, “seriously, y/n. you worked so hard for this, you deserve it.”
he knew. of course he did. he knew every late night, every rehearsal, every time she came home slightly limping with her knees hurting. he knew every time she doubted herself, every tear she shed after her audition when she thought she did bad.
she still couldn’t believe it, she couldn't process it but hearing him saying it made it feel a lot more real.
“i can't wait to see you tonight.” he murmured, almost dreamily, and she chuckled softly.
“i'm heading home right now.”
“good, because i'm celebrating you properly.”
“with what?”
there was a tiny pause, a breath, and then mock seriousness: “i don't know yet, but it'll involve food and me being incredibly clingy.”
that made her laugh again because he was so perfect. this whole moment was perfect. the cold around her suddenly didn't feel as sharp anymore, the city suddenly seemed softer and as she finally stepped onto the bus with a smile she couldn't contain and a heart heavy with joy, she knew that everything was about to change.
she just didn't know it would begin to take pieces of her with it.
•••
for the first three weeks, it was almost beautiful.
not easy - nothing is ever easy - but beautiful in a way ambition could sometimes look from the outside.
y/n had always been disciplined, that was one of the first things that sunghoon had fallen in love with. it wasn't just the effortless elegance she carried or the way her body seemed to bend to music even when she wasn't dancing in the studio - it was the quiet determination beneath it, the way she committed herself fully to anything she loved.
when she danced, she danced. when she loved, she loved just as fiercely.
so as soon as she'd left for her first schedule that monday after she got the role with an excited smile on her face and his kisses all over her cheeks, sunghoon had expected the longer rehearsals, the packed timetable, the endless practice sessions. he expected stress and exhaustion but with that calm determination and drive to succeed.
what he hadn't expected was to watch the girl he loved slowly begin to disappear inside it.
at first, it started small. she woke up earlier than usual. she used to wake up at 6, and then it turned to 5, then 4:30. he would wake to the faint vibration of her alarm and the quiet rustle of sheets beside him, blinking blearily into the dim blue light of dawn. he'd find her already sitting at the edge of the bed, meticulously wrapping her ankles and putting her hair into a bun.
“baby... what time is it?” he had mumbled one time, voice thick with sleep.
y/n glanced over her shoulder, her smile tired but just as soft when she noticed his fluffy hair and roaming eyes, “go back to sleep.”
he rubbed at his half-closed eyes and pushed up onto one elbow, “you’re leaving already?”
“i want to get some solo practice in before group rehearsal.”
sunghoon frowned, “but it's barely morning.”
she laughed but it was hollow, a sound that didn't reach her eyes, “that's kind of the point.”
she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, ran her hand over his hair briefly and she was gone before the sun had even fully risen.
nights became worse. dinner at 8pm turned into 10, then midnight, then sometimes it never happened at all. the apartment lights no longer went off when they used to, the routine of eating dinner together had become such a rarity, he barely expected it to happen anymore. sometimes, sunghoon would sit on the couch, pretending to watch something on his laptop but his eyes would instinctively flick to the time in the corner, ticking impossibly louder day by day.
12:47am.
1:00am.
1:15am.
and then, finally, the familiar beep of the door unlocking would be heard through the otherwise silent apartment. relief hit him in waves whenever she finally came home and then it would twist into anxiety whenever he saw her. she looked worse every night. paler. quieter. a little more sunken around the eyes. a little less like the girl who had cried in his arms from happiness when she got the role.
a little less like the girl who adored ballet with her entire heart.
one night, y/n came home at nearly two in the morning. the apartment was dark except for the warm glow of the lamp beside the couch. he was half-asleep, tired from his own day of interviews but was still determined to wait for her to come home, to see if she was okay.
y/n stepped inside so quietly it was almost as if she'd hoped he would be asleep. her shoulders sagged beneath her coat, her bag weighing one shoulder down as her pointe shoes half-hung out of the open zipper.
she looked exhausted- no, beyond exhausted.
like someone had wrung every last bit of her energy out of her.
“it’s 1:45.”
her hand stilled midway to taking her coat off. she stood there for a second, just breathing.
“i know.”
“you said rehearsals ended at ten.” his voice stayed calm amongst his worry that was almost impossible to miss nowadays.
“we stayed late.” y/n began walking to the kitchen without meeting his eyes, dropping her bag by the door.
“for three and a half hours?”
“i needed more time.”
sunghoon stood up and as she crossed the room, he saw it. the tiny wince when she put weight on her ankle. it was small, maybe almost invisible to anyone who didn't pay much attention - but not to sunghoon. he noticed everything about her, no matter how small it may seem, and his stomach immediately dropped as his eyes travelled back up her body like he was checking for any other injuries.
“did you eat?”
silence.
she opened the fridge, grabbed a water bottle and her silence was answer enough for him.
“…i had coffee.”
sunghoon stared at her in disbelief, “coffee?”
“it's just for now.”
“y/n.” his voice grew lower, heavy.
“it's fine.” she leaned back against the counter, eyes closing briefly, her shoulders slumping forward in exhaustion beyond reason.
“no, it's not.”
her eyes snapped open fully then as the frustration flared through the fog of fatigue like something igniting beneath too-thin skin, “you don't understand.”
the words landed wrong immediately. not loud or dramatic. just heavy. like something dropped between them that couldn't be taken back. he knew this wasn't her talking, it was the tiredness, the weakness, the stress that had been plaguing her for weeks. sunghoon went still but it wasn’t anger that crossed his face - it was something quieter, something a little unsettling.
he looked disappointed.
“i’m sorry-” y/n breathed out too quickly, already shaking her head as if that could physically undo it. her numb fingers pressed to her temple like she could massage the tension out of her own thoughts, “i didn't mean that- i just-”
“no.” his voice cut through and he stepped forward slowly, gently, “tell me what i'm not understanding.”
that made her stop, really stop, because he wasn't arguing back, he wasn't escalating, he was just asking. and that somehow made it worse - his calmness.
her shoulders sagged under the constant tension and her body almost collapsed forward, like her bones couldn't hold her up anymore. she clutched the edge of the counter as she rasped out, “this is the biggest performance of my career. of my whole life.”
“i know.”
“then you know why i have to do this.”
“yeah, i know why you have to do this.” sunghoon said immediately, shaking his head once. he moved a step closer again, not crowding her but closing the space she was trying to disappear into, and his voice softened into a gentle plead, “that doesn't mean you have to destroy yourself for it.”
she laughed - small, broken, full of disbelief at his words as if what he was saying was entirely non-negotiable, “destroy myself?”
she looked up at him properly then, eyes sharp and gone was the girl who would understand his reasons, who would never try to argue with him but instead work things out calmly and peacefully. now, her new life seemed to curl at her throat and dig its thorns into her heart, poking right at his place in there, “sunghoon... there are girls in that studio who would kill for this part.”
his jaw tightened slightly, “and?”
that caught her off guard.
“and if i slip even once, they'll give the spot to someone else. you need to understand that.”
he didn't reply after that, he didn't know how to. he just stared at her for a long moment with the quiet recognition that this had become something he didn't know how to fix.
“i'll be fine once it's over.” she said dismissively, staring at the floor for a second too long and he didn't know who she was convincing... herself or him?
“it’s temporary. it's just until the performance.” she said it like a promise, like a shield, like something she had started saying so often she no longer questioned it. but to sunghoon, it wasn't reassurance anymore - it was a pattern. a warning he had started to dread.
because it had shown up at 3am when he found her sitting on the bathroom floor with ice pressed to her swollen ankles, eyes unfocused as she whispered it like a mantra.
i'll be fine once it's over.
it had shown up the next night when he opened the fridge and found the untouched takeout she had promised she'd eat, now cold and forgotten. it was from her favourite place... but she hadn't even noticed the logo on the boxes, too tired to even stand.
i'll be fine once it's over.
it had shown up again when he found her asleep at the dining table with her cheek pressed against the wood. her laptop was open in front of her, playing one of her rehearsal videos with a tiny section of notes for improvements and his stomach seemed to sink even more when he saw how long the list was - as if all this work wasn't already draining the life out of her.
i'll be fine once it's over.
each time, he believed her a little less.
and each time she whispered those words, he felt a little more helpless.
•••
a month later, it was no longer stress.
that's what sunghoon called it in the beginning because stress was normal, expected. he felt it as well when he had an important performance coming up. anyone given the principal role in the winter gala would be under pressure, and he tried to remind himself of that everytime he woke to an empty bed before sunrise or sat awake long past midnight waiting for her to come home.
but this had become something else entirely.
it was sharper now. more consuming. more concerning. something had wrapped itself around y/n so tightly that there was barely anything of her left outside of it. her entire world had narrowed down to rehearsals, counts, corrections, and the constant fear of falling behind. it’s like everything else around her had begun to disappear.
from the outside, the performance still looked beautiful and that's what was cruel about it: the elegance of it all. the discipline. the grace. the way she still moved like poetry.
it reminded sunghoon of something delicate, something made to be admired from afar - like a crown folded from paper: beautiful in shape, precise in design.
but paper was still paper.
no matter how carefully it was folded, how perfectly it held its shape, it only took the smallest amount of pressure for it to bend. one drop of water. one careless hand. one fracture. and suddenly, the whole thing came apart.
that's what this had started to feel like.
y/n wore the role like a crown - the lead ballerina of the winter gala, the most coveted performance of the season, the title everyone in the company wanted, the one dancers spent years dreaming about. on her, it looked effortless, beautiful... but up close, sunghoon could see what no one else did: the edges of that paper was beginning to crease and there were tiny strains in the folds.
y/n stopped replying to messages. her groupchat with her friends had remained unread, disappearing beneath a flood of company notifications and timing reminders, completely going silent on her end. when sunghoon mentioned it once, gently asking if she'd talked to anyone or might want to go for a girls day, she'd only shaken her head and muttered something about being too busy.
soon, she stopped going out fully unless it was absolutely necessary. no more coffee runs, no more going to cute cafés, no more meeting with friends, no more dates.
even when she was home, she wasn't really there. the apartment no longer felt lived in, and instead, felt like an extension of the studio. the dining table was occupied with dressing choices, choreography notes, CDs of past performances she had been expected to watch and study and half-empty coffee cups which sunghoon had taken upon himself to wash and put away. ice packs permanently occupied the freezer. pain relief gel sat uncapped on the bathroom counter. pointe shoes lay abandoned near the sofa or beneath the coffee table like she barely had any time to remove them before going to do something else.
rest was no longer something she chose.
it was something her body forced on her.
on one of the few evenings sunghoon had finished practice earlier than usual, he came home expecting silence. maybe he could take a nap before getting ready to go to the gym, maybe he could convince his girlfriend one more time to eat a proper meal and not just coffee or random snacks.
the hallway outside their front door was quiet. he punched in the code, their anniversary date, and for a brief moment, he let himself hope. maybe she had finally listened to him. maybe tonight he'd find her curled up in bed, asleep beneath the duvet with her hair in that crazy loose array that made him chuckle. he pictured the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the way she would clutch his pillow when he wasn't there with her, and something softened in his chest.
but the moment he stepped inside, that hope disappeared.
music drifted down the hallway. soft strings of a controlled melody. his heart sank instantly.
it was the same piece of the same section of the performance she'd been working on for weeks now - the melody was so deeply engraved in both of their minds that sometimes sunghoon could hear it playing in his own head when he went for his own dance practices. it was practically the soundtrack of their apartment now.
still, some part of him hoped he was wrong. maybe she just left it playing by accident, maybe she was in the shower, maybe-
he turned the corner and stopped completely.
y/n was in the middle of the room, still in her practice clothes. her pink wrap top clung faintly to her skin, damp with sweat and the black tights she'd left in that morning were still dusted with fine white powder from the studio floor. her hair was pulled back into such a tight slickback it looked painful - every part of herself wound so tightly that one slip would've made the whole thing unravel.
sunghoon's eyes ran over her body in that concerning way they always did. she had one leg propped up against the arm of the couch, her body folded into an intense stretch so deep it made something in his chest curl.
it looked like punishment.
her breathing was uneven, thin shoulders rising and falling too fast, too strained, and when his gaze dropped lower, his lips curled into a worried snarl.
her hands were shaking. not even slightly, they were actually trembling. visible, uncontrollable tremors ran through her fingers and wrists as she forced herself deeper into the stretch. and the way she kept going, still ignoring every signal her body was giving her to stop, it made him frustrated.
“seriously?” the word came out before he could even stop himself, the pure disbelief evident in his tone.
y/n didn't even look up as she spoke, “i need to keep my lines clean.”
sunghoon just stared at her. he genuinely couldn't believe what he was seeing, “you need to sit down.”
her exhale was sharp and irritated, “hoon, please.”
“no.” his voice was clipped, firm, final. it changed the atmosphere instantly, almost slicing through the soft music and fragile patience that had been holding this together for weeks.
for the first time, she actually stopped. she lifted her head, actually made eye contact with him and the sight of her nearly broke him. she looked pale. far too pale to the point she looked ill. sweat dampened the loose strands of hair at the nape of her neck, dark shadows bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes, deep enough that even her makeup couldn't fully hide it.
then his eyes dropped lower. his breath caught.
her toes were bruised. deep purple marks bloomed over and even beneath the skin, swollen and angry, the kind of bruising that should've had her off her feet days ago. her hands were still trembling, her skin was practically pulling at her ribcage and her collarbones were so prominent they looked like they might snap if she breathed too heavy.
“y/n... baby, you're not okay.” he was almost on the verge of tears.
“i am.” her reply was too quick, too rehearsed.
“no, you're not.”
immediately, her arms folded over her chest as if she was defending herself on instinct.
“i don't need another lecture, sunghoon.”
he blinked at her, slightly caught off-guard, “a lecture? you think this is a lecture?”
“what else is it?”
a bitter laugh escaped him before he could stop it, “it's me being worried about you. it’s-”
“i told you i can handle it.”
“no, you're not handling it. you're not handling anything.”
his words sounded strict and that clipped tone landed wrong in her chest. she knew he was right. deep down, she knew what she was doing was wrong, it was unhealthy and completely unlike her, but the discipline and ambition had gone so out of hand she didn't know how to grasp at it anymore.
her chest rose sharply and her expression twisted into one of frustration, fear, all of it simmering to the surface, “you don’t get it.”
there's that sentence again.
something in him snaps, decisively, “then explain it to me.” his voice lowered to that deep, controlled tone, the kind of calm that only came when he was trying very hard not to shout angrily, “because from where i'm standing , it looks like you're killing yourself for a company that would replace you in a second.”
her breath caught. hurt seemed to flash over her face, mixed with fear, but anger took over just as instantly, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“then tell me.”
he stepped closer, “tell me why you haven't slept properly in weeks. tell me why i keep finding food you haven't touched. tell me why you can't even stand on that ankle right now.”
her face creased and suddenly, something cruel inside her seemed to split open; her dignity, or perhaps the self-care and love she had long forgotten about. her jaw tightened and she clenched her nails into her palm.
“because i have to be perfect!” the words tore out of her, raw and shaking, like they'd been clawing at her ribs for weeks, “because if i'm not, then someone else takes the spot!”
the room fell silent. her breathing came faster now, almost frantic, chest rising and falling too quickly. tears glossed over her eyes but they didn't fall, instead, they made her look more frantic. more desperate.
“i've dreamed about this all my life, sunghoon. i’ve worked so hard to get to where i am today.”
“i know.” he said quietly.
but she shook her head so fast it almost looked violent, “no, you don’t.” her voice cracked, then sharpened, “you have no idea what it's like in that studio.”
“do you really think i don't understand pressure, y/n?” he wasn't being defensive, he was just as tired - deeply, heartbreakingly tired - and seeing the love in his eyes when he looked at her, seeing the worry and concern for her should've been the moment she stopped.
instead, it only made something uglier rise inside her.
“this is different.”
“how?”
she laughed, humourless and completely bitter, “because, as a dancer, you should know what this feels like.” he went completely still and she continued with a voice trembling with emotion and something more intense, “you stay late for practices too, you have important performances you need to do extra work for. you know what it’s like until your body gives out, so why are you acting like what i’m doing is insane?”
sunghoon's fists clenched by his sides because in a way, she was right, he did know. he knew what pressure felt like, he knew what it meant to chase perfection until it hollowed you out, he knew what it was like to be watched, judged, corrected. but this? this had gotten so out of hand that even with all of that understanding, he no longer knew how to reach her.
“y/n…” he said softly, warm eyes pleading as his brows furrowed, “i do know what that feels like but...”
“no!” her voice rose so suddenly, it startled both of them, “you don't know because you already made it. you already debuted. you're already in a group, your place is already secure.”
“what?”
“if you make one mistake on stage, they cover for you. the others will step in, the cameras move away and it’ll be edited out. the performance keeps going.” her own words seemed to echo back at her, completely cruel, coming from something ugly and terrifying that had made its way into her mind, into her heart.
sunghoon stood there stunned. it hurt, of course it did, especially coming from her. she could see it flash in his dark eyes, she could see it in the way his brows furrowed just a bit more and the love in his eyes started to wither.
but she was too far gone and too consumed by the adrenaline and panic to stop.
“ballet doesn’t work like that. if i mess up one turn, one landing, one count- that’s it. i’m off the performance. and that’s just for rehearsals, never mind the real thing.” her voice cracked and the tears finally spilled over, “there are girls in that studio waiting for me to fail. there will be girls in line that day to immediately take over if i do something wrong. you don’t know what it’s like to have people waiting on your downfall every freaking second!”
he’d gone so quiet that it would’ve hurt less if he just shouted back. but his silence stabbed at her too because she knew, she knew he understood, of course he did - ever since he was young, he’s had cameras watching him, people training him, correcting him, criticising him. he knew fear. he knew what it was like to feel replaceable. he knew what it was like to overwork yourself.
but this wasn’t about that anymore. this was her fear speaking, dressed up as cruelty and she was taking it out on him.
when sunghoon finally spoke, his voice was hollow, “you really think i don't know what that feels like?”
the question was gently yielding but it landed like a slap. y/n's breath caught. for a second, she softened at his hurt tone but that weakness vanished just as quickly as it came.
“this is different.” she said again, weaker this time.
“right.” his shoulders sagged and his eyes softened, “maybe i don't know what it's like to dance in your company, but i do know what it looks like when someone i love is destroying herself and calling it discipline.”
now that should've stopped her. it should've. but there was nothing left in her capable of slowing down.
“well, i'm sorry i can't prioritise you right now.”
that seemed to crack everything between them.
all the hurtful words, all the worried glances, all the comforting caresses after hard rehearsals - all of it gone with just a few frantic words. sunghoon nodded and pursed his lips like the air had been slowly knocked out of him. there was no misunderstanding and that’s what hurt him - it hurt him that even after everything, she thought he just wanted her attention, as if he was dismissing all her hard work just because they hadn’t had a proper conversation in a while.
for the first time in weeks, he genuinely looked wounded.
her face paled in realisation, “hoon- i didn't mean-”
“no, i heard you.” he reached for his jacket, “do whatever you want.”
“sunghoon-”
“if this performance matters more than your health, more than us... then i can't stop you.”
and then he was walking toward the door.
“you’re leaving?” panic finally broke through the frustrated haze she was in just seconds ago.
“i don't want to say something i'll regret.”
as a dancer, as a performer, he knew what it meant to bleed for perfection. but as her boyfriend, as her lover, as her best friend, as someone who's seen her grow into the person she was now, he had no idea how to save her from herself.
the door clicked shut behind and the sound echoed in the apartment like something irreversible. y/n stood frozen, shaky eyes staring at the door. she stayed there for a second, then another, hoping- wishing- begging for him to run back in so that she could apologise.
but he didn't.
her knees gave out. she sank to the floor as her breath shook violently in her chest and her feeble fingers clutched at her top, right over her heart like it could've fallen out any second. her music still played in the background. still moving. still counting. still demanding. even when she couldn't anymore.
for the first time in weeks, the apartment was silent in a way that truly hurt.
and that's when she realised that somewhere between chasing perfection and running from failure, she had started losing him too.
•••
the next morning, y/n woke up with a strange heaviness in her chest.
her 6am alarm vibrated beside her and after turning it off, she remained still under the covers, eyes closed, trying to hold onto the last remnants of sleep. her memory of last night came back all at once: the argument, her harsh voice, the look on sunghoon’s face when her words landed, the sound of the door closing behind him.
her eyes opened slowly to the pale grey light filtering through the curtains, the bedroom being washed in the quiet blue of the early morning. her body ached in ways that had become so familiar she barely registered them anymore, her shoulders tight and sore as her calves practically throbbed from yesterday’s rehearsal.
without thinking, her hand moved across the mattress to the space beside her. his space.
she was met with cold sheets and an untouched pillow. her breath caught. he never came back. that thought hit her harder than she expected it to and something painful tightened beneath her ribs as she stared at the empty space. maybe he had gone to the dorm after leaving. maybe one of the members had convinced him to stay over.
or maybe he simply hadn’t wanted to come home.
that possibility hurt the most. she swallowed hard and blinked against the sting gathering behind her tired eyes. for a second, she just wanted to stay there, the curl up in the sheets and hug his pillow as she slept but the thought barely had time to form before reality came crashing back in.
two weeks. she only had two more weeks until the winter gala.
so she dragged herself up as the words blared in her mind like an alarm; quick shower, skincare, hair tied up, tights, wrap top, warm-up layers. it was almost mechanical, as though her body knew the sequence better than her mind did. by the time she stepped out into the hallway, mind already drifting to what she had to practice today, she froze as she came to the living room.
it was dim. the curtains were still drawn against early light, and her eyes then travelled to the couch.
sunghoon.
he was curled awkwardly, still in the clothes from last night. his hoodie was half-zipped, one arm tucked underneath his head in what clearly had been an attempt to make himself comfortable, though the angle of his neck looked painfully wrong. one of the throw blankets had slipped halfway down his legs, leaving him barely covered.
she stared at him. he had come home. at some point in the night, after she’d fallen asleep, he came home.
but he didn’t come back to her and that realisation hit like a physical blow to her heart - he’d been here the entire time and still the space between them had never felt wider. her heart clenched. he must’ve been so uncomfortable, the couch being too short for his long legs, and yet he’d still chosen that over their bed.
over being beside her.
because of what she said. because she’d pushed him so far that even coming home didn’t mean coming back to her.
guilt washed over her immediately. slowly, carefully, she moved closer. up close, he looked exhausted, his lashes seated softly against his cheeks, his breathing slow and steady. he looked peaceful for the first time in weeks, too peaceful for her to ruin.
god, she missed him. she missed being close enough to look at him properly, she missed spending mornings tangled with him in the sheets, missed the easy touches and the soft kisses and the warm hugs that once filled every part of their life together. these past few weeks had turned them into strangers sharing the same space - they’d pass eachother in the doorway, eat at different times, sleep on different schedules, barely touch, barely speak.
and now, seeing him here, something tender and heartbreaking unfurled inside her. she crouched beside the couch and gently, she let her hand reach out and slide into his hair. it was soft, warm beneath her touch as she smoothed the dark strands back from his forehead. the simple familiarity of it nearly undid her. her touch was featherlight and hesitant as if she was afraid she no longer had the right to touch him at all.
his breathing shifted but he didn’t wake up.
leaning down, she pressed the softest kiss to his cheek.
“i’m sorry.” y/n whispered as her fingers lingered in his hair for one final moment before she forced herself to stand. she let him sleep because for once, he looked rested. because she loved him too much to wake him.
and as she slipped out of the apartment with tiny tears fluttering at her waterline, the room fell silent once more. a few seconds passed before sunghoon’s eyes opened - he felt all of it, the kiss, the apology whispered against his skin, her nimble fingers in his hair. his heart ached, still as raw as it had been the night before, as he stared up at the ceiling.
he was still hurt. god, it hurt so much to be this apart from her.
but the tenderness of her touch stayed with him long after she already left.
•••
the studio felt wrong when she stepped in.
usually it would be alive with movement as different dancers arrived with coffee cups in their hands and bags over their shoulders, the distant sound of piano scales coming from one of the practice rooms, the soft tap of pointe shoes against the corridor as some people warmed up or hurried from one studio to the next.
today, that rhythm felt off. the building wasn’t silent, literally, but the usual bustle of it felt off.
it was quiet and that quiet made her skin prickle.
the atmosphere shifted as soon as she opened the door to one of the larger performance rooms. there was a subtle pause in conversations as most people turned toward her, and then whispers started - not loud but enough to echo against the high ceilings and enough for her to feel instantly confused and anxious.
one of the girls near the far mirror glanced at her and then leaned to the dancer beside her, whispering something behind the rim of her bottle. y/n watched the other girl smirk, eyes trailing back to her. another pair by the barre exchanged a look that felt too pointed, too judgemental. someone laughed under their breath. someone tying their shoes stopped just to stare at y/n walking in.
she tightened her grip on her bag as a cold unease began to creep up her spine. what the hell was happening this morning? her gaze moved across the room as her steps faltered a bit - she waited for something familiar, someone to smile or wave or complain about the schedule as always.
instead, she found pity. disappointment. distance.
before she could even set her bag down, one of the performance assistants approached her from the corner of the room. y/n straightened up when she saw how composed her expression was, how serious she looked.
“y/n, the manager wants to see you.”
the words landed strangely.
“what?”
the assistant gave her a small, unreadable smile.
“in his office.”
her heart gave a sudden, sickening drop. without another word, she turned and walked back out into the hallway, the whispers behind her getting louder now that she wasn’t looking at them. each step toward the office felt wrong, too slow, too loud. the corridor stretched endlessly in front of her, the framed posters from past galas and performances lining the walls like ghosts.
her eyes caught briefly at the principal lead from last years gala, the girl’s glossy lips stretched into a smile in front of a gold-embossed poster, poised beneath the lights in a crown of silver and crystal.
this year, that was supposed to be her.
by the time she reached the office door, her hand had gone cold around the handle. she knocked once and took a deep breath when the voice on the other side muttered a simple “come in.”
the door clicked shut behind her as she walked into the faint smell of coffee and paper. the performance manager sat at his desk, posture immaculate, hands folded neatly in front of him. his expression was unreadable in the way only authority figures seemed to master - carefully neutral, almost detached. it made dread bloom in her chest violently and she didn’t know why.
“y/n! please, take a seat.” he said with a polite smile, offering her the seat on the other side of his large oak desk.
she walked over but didn’t have it in her to sit down, her legs were practically shaking with nerves.
“what’s wrong?” her voice came out shakier than she expected.
for a second, he said nothing. he folded his hands more tighter, and looked at her with a kind of professional calm that made her want to be sick.
“we’ve been reviewing your performance in recent rehearsals, and the practice show that took place last week.”
her heartbeat stumbled. then began pounding. hard.
“what about it?” the words barely made it out, her eyes never leaving his as if she was worried she wouldn’t hear him properly if she looked away.
he paused. a pause that stretched too long, too heavy, too deliberate, like he was allowing the silence to do some of the damage for him. y/n stood frozen, her knuckles paling with how tight she gripped the strap of her bag. her pulse thudded so loudly in her ears that for a moment it was the only sound in the room.
and then he said it.
the exact thing she was dreading.
“we’ve decided to recast the principal role.”
for a second, it didn’t make sense. the words hung in the air, clean and sharp, yet somehow it was impossible for her to understand. it was as if the language itself failed her, as if the sentence was spoken in a voice she recognised but in a meaning her mind refused to accept.
recast.
principal role.
those words repeated in her head again and again, broken fragments stripped of context.
recast the principal role.
“…what?” her lips parted. she could only stare at him like she was waiting for him to correct himself, to laugh and tell her it was a joke or a prank or a misunderstanding, or some weird mistake in scheduling or casting for another role. she blinked at him blankly, and whatever light she had in her eyes slowly started to fade, “..what do you mean?”
“your performance quality has declined.”
“no.” the word left her before she could stop it, chest tightening to suddenly that it hurt. her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat, refusing to move, “no, it hasn’t.”
the man lowered his gaze to an open file on his desk. he was looking at paper, at notes, at typed-up observations and rehearsal reports like he was reading numbers from a spreadsheet instead of dismantling everything she spent her entire life building.
“the choreographers have reported that you’ve missed multiple cues in recent rehearsals.” he said evenly, “your stamina has visibly worsened and your physical consistency has become unreliable.”
each word was a blade to her heart.
missed cues.
stamina.
unreliable.
suddenly, everything came rushing back to her like a flicker of memories - the sleepless nights, the mornings she left before sunghoon was even awake, the dinner left untouched, the cold sting of ice packs against her swollen feet, the purple bruises blooming all over her legs. the palpable hurt in sunghoon’s eyes whenever she declined even having a meal with him. every sacrifice, everytime she neglected him, every piece of herself she’d stripped away in pursuit of perfection for this role.
“i can fix it.” the words tumbled out, panic rising in her chest, “i just need a little more time. there’s still a week left, i can stay later, i’ll redo every section if i have t-”
“y/n.”
“no, please!” she cut in, stepping closer to the desk, “please, just give me one more rehearsal, one more full run-through. i can prove it to you- i know i’ve been off, i know that, but i can fix it! i’ve come too far-”
her hands were shaking now, “please don’t do this. please.”
“the decision has already been made.”
that was it.
that was the moment everything inside her shattered as the finality in his voice left no room for argument, no crack for hope to slip through. her stomach dropped so violently she had to brace one hand against the edge of the chair to steady herself.
“no…” she whispered, barely audible, tears brimming her eyes, “no, you can’t do this.”
for the first time since walking into the office, the careful mask she’d been holding together began to fracture.
“you can’t do this- i gave everything for this.”
still, he looked at her with maddening calm, “we’re concerned for your condition, y/n. we need someone stable.”
“what?”
stable. she could’ve laughed. as if she were unstable, as if she had become the problem, as if the pressure and the scrutiny and the impossible standards and constant threats of replacement hadn’t somehow turned her into her own failure. as if they hadn’t built the very fear that consumed her.
“you are physically declining.” another blow straight to her heart, “we don’t know how much longer your body can sustain this pace. your ankle is clearly compromised, your stamina has dropped and you’ve been pushing through visible exhaustion. some of the girls have reported to seen bruises all over you. we can’t risk putting you on stage in this condition.”
then, a lot quieter, he added, “we’re sorry. you can’t take as much time as you need to rest your ankle.”
sorry. that word felt insulting. that entire sentence felt insulting.
“don’t do that..” she shook her head harshly, her tears now freely falling down her cheeks, “don’t act sorry after pushing me this hard. i did everything you asked…” she sniffled and her throat constricted but she swallowed past the lump, swallowed past the heartbreak and kept going, “i did every late night, every correction, i watched the videos again and again. i ruined myself for this!”
“we never asked you to destroy your health.”
“of course. you only ever made it clear that if i messed up, even a little, someone else would take it! i tried to avoid that!” she bitterly laughed, “i pushed myself for you. for this company.”
silence. he said nothing. he didn’t even deny her words and somehow that’s what broke her the most. because he knew what dancers went through to get this role, he knew the behind the scenes of the role and how physically demanding and mentally straining it can get, yet he didn’t say anything at the time.
he kept quiet and now… just as she’s so close to the finish line, he wants to act. he’d casted her because of her talent and personality and elegance, he’d watched her ruin herself, he’d watched her get attacked, get judged, get overworked and now he’d decided to cut her off?
that’s when she realised that all the pain and fear, everything she’d done to make herself untouchable, trying to build a crown so flawless no one could touch her - none of it had been enough. she’d let her ambition consume her so much that she lost herself in the process and that had been her ultimate downfall.
she turned and left without another word.
she had nothing else to say and she knew that if she stayed another second, she was certain she’d fall apart right there on the floor.
and she refused to let him see that too.
•••
she barely made it out the building.
the posters she blindly rushed past now felt like cruel reminders, the rehearsal rooms felt far too distant and the familiar music playing throughout almost made her sick. by the time she pushed through the side exit of the performance hall and stumbled into the narrow street beside it, the cold morning air hit her like a slap.
her lungs tightened so violently that she genuinely thought she might collapse right there against the brick wall. her breaths came in shallow, sharp pulls, too fast to steady herself, too thin to fill her lungs properly. her vision swam, hands shook so badly she nearly dropped her phone.
she was on the verge of a panic attack and there was only one person she wanted to call. only one person her heart reached for on instinct no matter what happened, no matter how chaotic things had gotten between them. whenever something but this badly and the word seems to crack beneath her feet, she always ran to him.
sunghoon answered on the second ring.
“y/n?”
his voice was all she needed for the years to spill harder. not graceful, quiet tears but sobs that had her knees weakening and her body lowering to the curb. they were humiliating. broken. heartbreaking.
“h-hoon..”
sunghoon immediately stood straighter from where he was leaned against the kitchen counter with his protein shake. his heart rate spiked as soon as her shrilling cries came through his speaker.
“y/n. what happened?”
she pressed a hand over her mouth, trying and failing to steady herself, “i- i can’t-”
“baby, where are you?”
the endearment in his tone nearly destroyed what little composure she had left.
“i’m at the performance hall.” she sniffled, looking up at the clear sky to make her tears stop, “side s-street.”
“i’m coming.” he said with no hesitation. no anger. no reminder of last night. no pause. just a reminder that he would always be there wherever and whenever she needed him. she doesn’t know if he declined the call or if it was all her movement but her phone went limp in her hand as she curled into herself on the edge of the empty street.
she tightened her coat around her as if it could somehow hold her together. the cold seeped through the fabric of her tights but she barely felt it - every thought in her mind was spiralling.
recast. unstable. unhealthy.
to someone else, this might’ve seemed dramatic - it was just a role, just one show in a long career that she still had ahead of her. she was only twenty-three, more roles like this would come, right? maybe from the outside it could be dismissed as something temporary, someone she would eventually move on from, and she knew she would. she knew she’d get over it but it still hurt.
it had been everything to her, so of course, letting it slip through her fingers because of her own decline hurt.
it was a moment she was supposed to prove herself. losing it didn’t feel like just losing a random role, it felt like losing the future she’d been reaching for with both hands. that’s why the panic felt consuming and why the air around her seemed so thin.
sunghoon arrived less than fifteen minutes later.
his hair was messy as if he’d just ran out the door without thinking to fix it. he was in a hoodie and sweatpants, clearly rushed, and yet in that moment, to her, he had never looked beautiful.
the second she saw him, whatever fragile composure she was clinging to shattered completely. she reached for him before he even fully crouched down - it was instinct, pure and desperate. her hands flew to the front of his hoodie and sunghoon dropped down in front of her so quickly his knees hit the pavement. both his hands came up to cup her face, warm palms a stark contrast to her freezing skin.
“hey.” he said softly, eyes scanning her with worry, “hey, look at me.”
she tried. she really did but the moment she looked at him properly, the tears came harder.
“they cut me off.” she hiccupped, “hoon, th-they took the role.”
something quick and sharp flickered across his face. hurt. anger. disbelief. his jaw tightened as the words settled in and a cold fury rose so fast it almost startled him. they took it away? after everything? he couldn’t believe it. after watching as she slowly wore herself down until there was almost nothing left of her, they’d simply taken it away?
a part of him wanted to march straight into that building and demand how they could possibly justify this. how they could watch someone reach the absolute edge of the cliff and then punish them for breaking under the weight of it.
but then she made this small, broken sound in the back of her throat, and all that anger instantly simmered.
her. she came first.
always.
his entire body softened as he pulled her forward into his chest, “baby, it’s okay- hey.” one hand slid to the back of her head while the other began to rubbing slow, soothing circles over her back, “i’ve got you. i’ve got you.”
her fingers desperately twisted into his hoodie and she clutched him so tightly it almost hurt, like some part of her was terrified that if she let go, he might disappear from her life too. sunghoon could feel every tremble, every shaky breath, every whine, every fractured exhale and his chest tightened so painfully. he lowered his face, pressing a kiss to her hair, then to her temple, his hand never stopping its gentle movement on her back.
“i’m sorry. i’m so- sorry, hoon.”
sunghoon pulled back just a tiny bit to look at her properly, his palm now cupping the side of her face, “what?”
“i was horrible to you. i said awful things and hurt you when you were only trying to h-help me.” she forced out through the river of tears, “i was so scared and i took it out on you.”
his heart ached, not just from hearing her say this but from how devastated she looked. he brushed damp strands of her hair back and his thumb gently wiped beneath her eyes.
“angel.” he called, “look at me.”
she didn’t, still sputtering out mumbles into his chest, shaky fingers tightening even more, “i didn’t mean it- god, i s-swear i didn’t. i’m so proud of you and how far you’ve come, i don’t know what was wrong with me-”
“baby.”
“you’re the strongest person i know and i’m so happy for all of your achievements. i-i was an idiot and i was stupid and you were still being nice- fuck- h-hoon…” her breath cracked and sunghoon pressed his palms into her cheeks, pulling her up to look at him.
“y/n.” his eyes bore into her teary ones, “my love. listen to me… i’m sorry too.”
her brows pulled together with confusion as he let out a slow breath, “i shouldn’t have walked out last night. i shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“no, don’t say that.” she immediately shook her head, “you did nothing wrong. you were worried for me out of love and i was too far gone to see it.”
something in him cracked a little at those words. he leaned forward and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips staying there for a moment longer than necessary. he could feel his own eyes prickling with tears but he held back, stayed strong because he needed comfort right now, because he didn’t want to distress her any further.
“you were hurting.”
“i still hurt you.”
his arms tightened around her and for a few minutes, neither of them said anything. he simply just held her with all the tightness of an embrace they hadn’t had for months. sunghoon grounded her with every gentle pass of his hand, every kiss to her hair, her eyes, her temple, her cheek. small, tender touches as if he could kiss all her pain away.
then, very lowly, she mumbled, “you didn’t come to bed last night.”
he crumbled at her sad tone, “i did. you looked deep in sleep, i didn’t want to disturb you.”
she looked up at him from his chest, “you could never disturb me.”
“i didn’t know if you wanted space or were still mad at me.”
she pouted at that, tears fluttering at her eyes yet again, “i was never mad at you in the first place.” then she tucked herself back into his chest, “no matter what happens, please always come back to bed. i missed you. i don’t like sleeping without you.”
at that, he smiled faintly and kissed her hair for the nth time, “noted.”
eventually, once her tears had dried up and her heavy breaths had softened into calm ones, he carefully helped her into the passenger seat of his car, which she sank into with exhausted relief. sunghoon didn’t start the car straight away. instead, he reached over and took her hand, threading their fingers together and giving it a reassuring squeeze, all while he quietly asked, “what do you want to do next?”
she took a breath before answering, “they said i should rest for my ankle.”
his expression tightened - of course now thy wanted to talk about rest.
he looked at her for a long moment, his gaze caring and endearing before telling her they were going to get it checked properly. there was no room for argument in the softness of his voice so y/n didn’t argue - she knew it was long overdue. so she squeezed his hand, let him kiss her fingers as he drove her straight to the hospital.
it was like a silent reminder that he was there.
even after the fragile paper crown shed built for herself finally crumpled in her hands, there was something almost unbearably comforting knowing that he would always be there.
•••
2 months later
healing no longer looked like collapse.
it no longer looked like shaking hands or tears mixing with the flow of the shower. it had become something less visible, something peaceful. healing, y/n learned, was rarely dramatic. it was made up of ordinary moments that didn’t seem important until she looked back and realised what they had carried her through.
her healing process included slow mornings wrapped in hoodies that smelled faintly of laundry detergent and sunghoon, curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket and her favourite tea. it was sunlight spilling across the apartment in long, golden rectangles while she sat on the rug, reading a new novel she’d come across. some days she managed it, some days the words blurred and she ended up staring at the same page for twenty minutes.
the living room had gradually filled with evidence of all the evidence.
a sketchbook lay on the coffee table, its pages filled with half-finished pencil drawings and soft sludges of colour, a small paint set sat by the window with brushes soaking in a jar because she kept forgetting to clean them properly. one of her friends had forced a book into her hands. one day, her friend had gifted her a whole basket full of yarn and a crochet kit in the hopes of helping her find a new hobby.
sunghoon noticed all of it.
he saw the way she moved at a calmer pace, the way she started opening the curtains in the mornings again, the way loud laughter echoed in the apartment. she tried to remember who she was when ballet hadn’t taken over, she tried to exist without constantly feeling like she had to earn her own worth.
her ankle healed three weeks after that day he’d taken her to the hospital. the swelling went down and the bruises gradually faded and by the end of the month, there was almost no viable sign that it had ever been as bad as it was. but sunghoon knew that some injuries didn’t live in places anyone could see - sometimes he’d find her by the kitchen counter, one hand against the edge as she moved through familiar ballet positions with quiet instinct while waiting for her coffee to brew.
just a slow rise or a careful angle of her arm, a measured extension. nothing strenuous or reckless. just her muscles moving through memory.
her body still remembered what her heart was still trying to forgive. he never interrupted.
instead, sunghoon would lean quietly against the doorway and watch with a twinkle of awe in his eyes - no worry or fear for her health. he’d stare with something soft, something bittersweet, because there was sadness, yes, but there was also peace beginning to take root.
a week after she’d been dismissed, the winter gala took place.
the whole week, sunghoon had been prepared to distract her. he half-planned dinner reservations, maybe a late night drive across the city to cheer her up, maybe a movie marathon if she wanted to stay inside. it had only been a week and he wanted to do anything to keep her from seeing the stage that should’ve been hers.
but when he carefully suggested going out, y/n only looked up from the sofa and smiled.
“i think i want to watch it.”
he stared at her, raising his brows, “you sure?”
she nodded, steady, “i’m sure.”
so they did. the tv cast soft light across the living room as the performance began, the familiar theatre appearing on the screen in polished greys, silvers and crystals. y/n sat tucked into the corner of the couch, her still-healing ankle resting comfortably across sunghoon’s lap after he’d just massaged in the cooling gel and wrapped it warmly.
he looked at her more than the tv.
she was smiling a genuine smile. there was a bit of grief in it, yes, but it no longer consumed her. when the new lead came on screen, she tilted her head slightly, observing the movement with the specificity of someone who knew every count.
“they changed that transition.” she murmured softly.
sunghoon glanced at the screen but had absolutely no clue what she was referring to. he kept raking his eyes back to her - there was no bitterness in her gaze, only quit observation and pride for the new woman presenting the lead. there was a kind of detached fondness.
when it had ended, she clapped softly, then leaned back into the cushions and exhaled, “it was beautiful.”
sunghoon pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her hand and she squeezed back gently. it hurt, he knew, he could tell by the faint tears lining her waterline, but he knew she wouldn’t let that hurt consume her.
•••
currently, y/n sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
the city had begun to settle into the slow part of the evening that always felt a little cinematic. sunghoon had cleared the dinner dishes away as y/n quietly curled into her favourite corner of the couch, half-watching something on her screen an half-listening to the gentle sounds of sunghoon moving around the kitchen.
she barely looked up at first when he approached, expecting him to sit beside her like he always did. but when she lifted her gaze, there was a certain look in his eyes that made her pause - soft, unreadable and boyishly secretive.
she narrowed her eyes in amused suspicion, “what?”
his lips curved, “get your coat.”
“that sounds ominous.”
“it’s a surprise.” he chuckled, “trust me.”
“the last time you said to trust you, i ended up trying tteokbokki so spicy i cried.”
sunghoon let out a breathy laugh, “you survived.”
“barely.”
“just get your coat, woman.” he rolled his eyes as he went to put his own shoes on and y/n chuckled to herself, still following after him. by the time they were in the car, she had already turned fully in her seat to face him, arms folded, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“where are we going?”
“you’ll see.”
she scoffed, “that’s not an answer.”
“it’s the only thing you’re getting.”
y/n leaned back with a quiet huff, but it didn’t last long because within seconds, she was eyeing him again, gaze flicking between his face and the road ahead.
“why are we going so late?” she tried again in hopes that her sweet, curious tone could get something out of him, “it’s like… what, almost ten?”
“mhmmm.”
“hoon.”
he hummed again, far too calm for someone basically being interrogated.
“and what’s in the bag?” she added on, subtly pointing to the backpack he’d grabbed from their bedroom and shoved in the backseat.
he shrugged, mumbling “stuff.”
“stuff?” she mimicked, “you’re so annoying.”
that earned her a quiet smile from him - one that tugged at the corner of his mouth at her stubborn attempts to get an answer. he interlocked his fingers with hers in her lap, trying to soften the teasing dismissal as he brought their hands up to his lips.
“just wait.”
“you know i hate surprises.”
“you’ll like this one.” he kissed her hand, “i hope.”
y/n sighed, dramatic but not entirely serious, sinking back into her seat. she turned to watch the city pass by instead, though every now and then her gaze flickered back to him in curiosity. the rest of the drive passed like that: with y/n asking him in different ways, him dodging just as easily until eventually she just gave up with a tiny smile and decided to play some music instead.
when the car finally slowed and turned to a stop in a familiar area, y/n straightened in her seat.
“hoon.” he parked without answering, unbuckling and reaching for the backpack in the back. she followed his actions, momentarily paused, “…why are we at the hybe building?”
“come on.”
“what-”
he was already walking to her side to open the door before she could argue any further. his hand found hers and despite the confusion, she let him lead her inside. the building was a little quieter than it usually was, the late hour leaving most of it still and dim, but they still passed the occasional staff member or trainee who offered polite nods upon seeing sunghoon.
y/n’s footsteps echoed softly down the dark carpeted hallways as he led her to the elevator, taking her three floors underground, “you’re seriously not going to tell me why we’re here?”
sunghoon still shook his head, “almost there.”
they took a turn down a corridor she barely even recognised, descending towards one of the underground practice stages reserved for performance rehearsals. the air felt different here - it was a lot cooler, quieter, the kind of space with high ceilings and sound echoing off the walls. when they stopped infront of some double doors, sunghoon finally let go of her hand just enough to push them open.
the room beyond was dim, lit by only a few low, amber stage lights that cast a warm glow across the polished floor. the space was extremely wide, empty and still - it felt a little scary if she was being honest. she stepped inside with slow, careful steps and sunghoon followed behind her as she eyed the huge stage at the front.
“wha- sunghoon, what are we doing here?”
she turned to see him holding out the backpack. the look on his face was solemn and it was honestly causing a spark of anxiety to crawl up her spine.
“i booked this room for an hour. for you.”
“why?”
he took a small breath, “i know you worked really hard for the gala. and i know… it didn’t turn out the way it should have.”
she frowned at the sincerity in his tone as he continued, “but you put everything into that performance. even if things were a little rough along the way, you still wanted this and you worked so hard for it. it’s just… i wanted at least one person to see it all. to see what you created.”
her throat tightened at that. sunghoon zipped open the bag and y/n's eyes dropped to what he pulled out: her performance outfit, the same one she chose herself with pretty crystals and sequins embedded into the fabric, the one she had hung up in her wardrobe in special wrapping to keep it clean and fresh for the big day. she raised her brows in surprise and then he pulled out her pointe shoes.
for a second, she couldn't speak.
her fingers hovered over the items and she lifted the shoes, the familiar satin ribbons brushing against her skin. it felt like something she had buried suddenly placed back into her hands, not as something painful - but as something hers again.
“sunghoon…”
he offered her a comforting, hopeful smile, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
she shook her head quickly, emotion catching in her throat, “no! i-i want to.”
“yeah?”
she smiled, eyes twinkling beneath the faint sheen of tears, “yeah- yeah, i want to.”
sunghoon smiled too, happy, and stepped back slightly, “i’ll set up the music.”
she disappeared briefly to change, her hand trembling and her head spinning at the thoughtfulness of his gesture - it felt like being given back a piece of herself she thought she’d lost. he always knew exactly how to help her when she needed it the most.
when she returned back a few minutes later, the room felt even quieter now. sunghoon sat in the first row of chairs, right in the centre, where his view of her was perfect. the music was ready, the lights dimmed just enough to wrap the space in a tender, white glow.
when she stepped into the centre of the floor, he stilled completely. she stood there for a few moments, letting the silence settle around her, letting herself remember the months of practice rehearsals and hours of dancing she'd put into this sequence.
then the music began.
she moved slowly at first, each step deliberate and careful - as if reacquainting herself with something deeply familiar yet newly fragile. the solo part came calmly and her body immediately adjusted, her now healed ankle making everything feel much lighter and her moves feeling a lot easier. as the music carried on, her body remembered the feeling - not the pressure or the fear but the endearment in her moves.
the way her dancing spoke for her. the way her body could tell a story no one else could.
the choreography she spent months learning and perfecting unfolded piece by piece, her lines clean, her turns controlled, her balance steady despite everything. there was an elegance to it that felt untouched by the chaos of the past months - it was soft, but strong. fragile but unbroken.
to sunghoon, y/n looked unreal.
she looked like something carved out of light and shadow. she looked like a perfect angel, swiping across the dancefloor. she moved in perfect harmony with the music, each turn, each kick, each graceful twirl carried resilience and something quiet and healing. there was no desperation now, no frantic edge of wanting to be perfect. she was just dancing the same way she'd always done. she was dancing the same way she'd learnt and always been passionate about.
and it was the most beautiful he had ever seen her.
as the piece built, her movements grew more intense, more powerful, each step grounded in something deeper than technique. sunghoon couldn't rip his eyes away from her even if he tried. he was completely captivated, like if he blinked he might miss something. he already knew what the performance looked like, having watched it with her in their living room, curled up on the sofa as the stage version played out on screen.
back then, he'd found himself quietly replacing the dancer with her in his mind. he imagined y/n at the centre of it all, he imagined her surrounded her by the backup dancers and the lights and the props, shining like some sort of precious star.
but this... this was different.
there was a rawness to it now, something unfiltered that no stage production could replicate. the original had been fuller, grander with all the dancers and elaborate movement - but what she was doing here, alone, carried a weight that made his chest tighten. it was just her. no distractions, no embellishments, and that made it even more beautiful.
she was the sole focus, just like she always had been.
especially in his eyes.
when the final note faded, the room fell into silence once more.
y/ns breath came in sharp, quick breaths, a faint flush across her cheeks and her eyes bright. sunghoon instantly stood up and started clapping - loud, completely genuine, insanely proud. the sound echoed through the empty space, breaking the stillness in the best way possible. y/n let out a breathless laugh, and shook her head as she stepped back. it genuinely felt like a huge amount of tension had been lifted off her shoulders.
he didn't stop clapping until he reached the stage. he was pulling himself up onto the platform, instantly closing the distance between them in seconds. his arms wrapped around her tightly and he lifted her off the ground in the momentum of it.
“okay, okay-” y/n giggled into his shoulder, slightly out of breath as she held onto him, “you’re being dramatic, baby. let me go-”
“am not.” sunghoon mumbled into her shoulder, though his grip didn’t loosen. he set her back down but his hands lingered at her waist, like he wasn’t quite ready to let her go. his dark eyes searched her face, still a little awestruck, still carrying the disbelief of how good she was.
“you were…” he exhaled, shaking his head like words weren’t enough, “i don’t even know how to describe it. i’ve seen your dance so many times but that- that felt like something else.”
“yeah?” y/n’s sweet smile faltered just a little, but not from sadness. she looked down briefly, then back at him, her features gentler now, “i’m happy that i got to perform this and… i’m grateful i even had the opportunity to learn it in the first place.”
there was no pressure or lingering panic in her tone. just something steady, something quietly whole. sunghoon's hands cradled her cheeks in his palms, thumbs softly brushing her cheekbones as he looked at her with so much love, so much adoration.
“it always was yours.”
“mm, maybe.” she murmured, “but atleast this time… i actually got to finish it.”
“good.” he leaned in to kiss her temple, “because i wouldn’t have missed that for anything.”
y/n smiled at his words before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. it wasn't just affection, it was gratitude - for his patience, for his unwavering support, for staying even when she hadn't made it easy for him to. her hands settled against his arms, steadying herself as she kissed him a little deeper, pouring everything she couldn't quite put into words in that moment.
somehow, it didn’t feel like it was stolen from her anymore.
she had finally performed it.
for the one person she wanted there. the one person who earned the right to see it - not just the final, polished version, but everything that came and went before that too. it might not have happened the way she planned or dreamed, but it had found its way back to her.
through him. through honesty and quiet affection, and that felt more deserved than anything she’d lost.
pairing: ot7!enha x daughter of hades!f!reader x ot9!teamies
genre: smau, crack, sort of a percy jackson au(?), supposed to be humour
asher's annotations: found this abandoned idea for an enha x &team smau from ages ago & thought i'd post it LMAO i'm not sure if i'll ever make this into an actual series or if i'll actually ever continue it... lmk what u think bc this actually is an absurd amt of charas.... but please have this so i can clear out some of my storage while i work on some other drafts of mine 😛
pairing : husband!jake x wife!reader, dad!jake x mom!reader | synopsis : your son, jaehyun, is extra clingy in the morning after a nightmare and doesn’t want to let you go | genre : fluff | wc : 452 | 💌 |
“Eomma!” you hear from the door.
You feel Jake shift lightly next to you. Your eyes start to slightly open, the sunlight blinding you for a moment. “Eomma, wake up!” your son says, now being in the room and shaking you to get up.
You groan and sit up, stretching lightly while Jaehyun, your five year old climbs up on your bed.
Jake slowly starts to get up too, hearing your son repeating “Eomma”.
“What happened Jaehyun-ah?” you ask, your voice raspy from sleep. “I’m cold.” he says, lifting the blanket up a bit and pushing Jake.
Jake lets out a dramatic gasp, still half asleep. “Yah, why am I getting kicked in my own bed this early?”
Jaehyun ignores him completely, crawling straight into your lap and wrapping his tiny arms around you. “Appa, move.”
You can’t help but giggle a bit while Jake stares at his son in betrayal. His messy hair falls into his eyes as he rubs his tired eyes. “You only love eomma these days.”
Jaehyun nods. “Eommas warm, you’re not.”
“Okay now that’s actually rude,” Jake mutters.
You smile, pulling the warm blanket over Jaehyuns shoulders. He instantly melts against you, his cheek pressing into your chest while his small hands cling to your shirt.
Jake watches the two of you for a second before scooting closer, wrapping on arm around your waist and the other around Jaehyun. “We can group cuddle then so your eomma can keep us both warm.”
“No squishing, appa.” Jaehyun warns.
Jake pokes his son’s cheek. “You’re bossy for someone who came in here at seven in the morning.”
Jaehyun hides his face into you more. “I had a bad dream.”
The teasing in Jakes expression softens immediately. “Oh,” he brushes Jaehyuns hair back. “Why didn’t you say that at first?”
“There was a monster,” he mumbles. “A big one.”
Jake gasps dramatically again. “A monster?! And appa wasn’t there to fight it?”
“Appa you lost.”
You burst into laughter while Jake clutches his chest. “Wow. Babe, are you hearing this. My own son thinks I’d lose.”
“You cried,” Jaehyun states.
“That’s a lie.” Jake says, looking even more offended.
Jaehyun finally giggles, the sleepy clinginess fading into a better mood. Jakes smile getting wider at the sound of hearing his son laugh.
After a few more minutes of being tangled together, Jaehyun lifts his head, his chin resting on your chest, “I’m hungry.”
“Want me to get up and make pancakes?” you ask, raising your hand to move his hair from his face.
Jaehyun nods, while Jake groans at the thought of getting up.
“Why can’t we just stay asleep? It’s way too early.”
✧ a quiet walk home turns into something softer when feelings finally stop being hidden, and a simple question changes everything
✧ nicholas x fem!reader | fluff, romance, slice of life, mutual pining, first kiss | wc: 1,180
✧ author’s note: wait i can't stop writing nicho fluff LOL help (if you have requests pls send mee ahhh)
it starts like any other walk home.
the kind where your shoulders brush every now and then, and neither of you really says anything about it because it’s become normal now. comfortable. easy.
you’re talking a little more than usual today though—about something small, something you can’t even fully remember later, just laughing at your own words as you look up at him every few seconds to make sure he’s still listening.
and he is.
always is.
nicholas is looking at you like he likes hearing you talk. like he’s not just walking beside you, but actually there with you in every little thing you say.
you don’t notice when your steps slow down. or when his do too.
“you’re in a good mood,” he says eventually, voice soft, almost amused.
“i’m always in a good mood with you,” you reply without thinking.
it comes out so naturally that you don’t even realize what you said at first.
but he does.
he stops walking.
you blink. “what?”
he’s looking at you now—properly, fully—like he’s trying to figure out if you meant it the way it sounded.
and suddenly your heart feels way too aware of itself.
“…did i say something weird?” you ask, laughing a little, trying to cover the sudden nervousness blooming in your chest.
nicholas shakes his head slowly.
“no,” he says. but his voice is quieter now. “just honest.”
that makes you go a little shy, your fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater.
“oh,” you say softly, looking away for a second. then, because you can’t stand silence for too long, you glance back up at him with a small smile. “well… it’s true.”
he exhales like that does something to him.
the air between you feels different now. not heavy—just closer. like the world narrowed down to the space between your shoulders.
“you always do that,” he says.
“do what?”
“say things like that… like you don’t realize what they sound like.”
you blink. “is that bad?”
a small smile appears on his face.
“no,” he says. “it’s just dangerous.”
that makes you laugh, a little flustered. “how is that dangerous?”
he doesn’t answer right away.
instead, he steps closer.
not fast. not sudden.
just enough that your laughter fades into something softer.
now you’re looking up at him properly, and he’s looking back at you like he’s decided something quietly.
your heart stumbles a little.
“nicholas?” you ask, quieter now.
“yeah?” he replies.
there’s a pause—small, but full.
then he lifts a hand, gently brushing a bit of hair away from your face like it’s the most natural thing in the world. his fingers linger for a second longer than necessary.
and you don’t move away.
“can i kiss you?” he asks softly.
your breath catches—but not in panic.
in something warm.
you nod before you even fully think about it.
“okay,” you say, small and honest and a little breathless.
that’s all it takes.
he leans in slowly, like he’s giving you time to change your mind even though you don’t want to. like he’s being careful with something he really doesn’t want to break.
the kiss is soft. gentle. a little unsure at first—but it settles quickly, like it was always supposed to feel this natural.
when he pulls back, it’s just enough to look at you again.
your face feels warm immediately, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he still is.
but instead of pulling away, you just smile.
a little bright. a little shy. a little too happy to hide.
“…hi,” you say softly, like you don’t know what else to say.
nicholas lets out a quiet laugh, relieved and fond all at once.
“hi,” he replies.
and then, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, he reaches for your hand.
