⋆˚꩜｡seonghwa & haeun ──── now playing: you get me so high by the neighbourhood
platonic soulmates
out of everyone in the group, seonghwa and haeun share a very deep love for one another. he was the first person to make her feel welcomed when she joined KQ and made sure to make her feel loved.
there isn’t a day that they don’t speak to one another, especially now that they live in separate apartments. they spend majority of their days off together going shopping or visiting new restaurants together. 
they are basically apart of each others families now, haeun will spend holidays with seonghwa and his parents. haeun’s uncle and aunt always invite him over for dinners as well which seonghwa is more than happy to attend.
they understand each other on a deep level, they can tell how one another is feeling from just a look and there is nothing that they don’t tell one another.
⋆˚꩜｡hongjoong & haeun ──── now playing: cigarette daydreams by cage the elephant
the favourite child
hongjoong will always say he doesn’t have favourites but it is very clear to everyone that haeun is his favourite. he is very protective over her and sometimes acts like her own personal bodyguard which haeun always finds amusing.
constantly babies her, making sure she’s resting and eating enough, especially during busy periods. buys her things she’s mentioned in passing and then pretends it’s no big deal but he loves watching her light up.
if haeun is ever having an issue with something the first person she turns to is hongjoong. he always makes time for her and will listens to her, no matter how small the issue is.
haeun will try and visit him in the studio often to keep him company, she usually just sits quietly doing her own thing but will drag him outside in heartbeat if he’s been cooped up too long.
⋆˚꩜｡yunho & haeun ──── now playing: adore u by harry styles
comfort person
yunho has been a steady presence in haeun’s life since she joined KQ. he always made time for her to go over any sort of choreography before evaluations or just to boost her confidence.
he never wants to see her upset or sad so will make it his mission to get at least a smile out of her if he knows she’s having a rough day.
very much two nerds when they’re together and will constantly buy each other little gifts about their current fixations.
yunho usually keeps his feelings to himself but haeun learned very quickly how to get it out of him and will always sit and listen to him no matter when.
⋆˚꩜｡yeosang & haeun ──── now playing: disco by surf curse
brother and sister
they were both painfully shy with one another when they began training together, which made for some very funny moments for the rest of the group but now they are very wholesome with one another.
haeun is yeosang’s biggest fan despite what san says. any chance she gets she will compliment him or express her love for him. yeosang always blushes. she always wants him to know how loved he is.
in true sisterly love she will find away to tease him or annoy him a little, just to get a reaction out of him.
like hongjoong, yeosang is another one of haeun’s personal bodyguards and will happily scare anyone off for her.
꒰ 𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆a small complication of keeho and angel moments that p1eces think about on the daily.
bold dialogues are spoken in english
indented italics are voice overs
Hello P1eces, and welcome to another video! Today, we’re diving into the chaos that is Keeho and Angel and the moments they blessed us that quite literally keep me awake at 2am.
Let’s relive some of the funniest Keeho and Angel moments that live rent-free in our heads. Let’s get it~!!
⋮ ⌗ ┆‘WAKE UP, WAKE UP.’
[In episode 4 of Harmonission, one by one the members had each do a wake up call for the fans.]
Keeho was last to go:
𓏵 “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up right now!”
They all die of laughter. Angel holds onto to Intak for support but can’t help but fall to the floor laughing. Still fighting her laughs, she mocks Keeho:
𓏵 “Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW!”
Keeho frowns and begins to mock her’s from earlier:
𓏵 “Like you did any better. ‘Oppa~ wake up~’”
Angel’s fits of giggles faded away, replaced by a deadpanned stare, fully ready to kill him.
⋮ ⌗ ┆‘IS OKLAHOMA EVEN A REAL PLACE?’
[The two are sitting silently in the vocal room. Keeho scrolls through his phone, while Angel is humming to the fans as she reads the comments.]
Angel starts to sing a song from Oklahoma the Musical:
𓏵 “Oklahoma~ where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain, and the wavin’ wheat can sure smell sweet. When the wind comes right behind the rain~”
Keeho slowly turns to her just as she finishes:
𓏵 “Is Oklahoma even a real place?”
Angel’s mouth drops open. At first, they look at each other, then turn to look at the camera like they’re on an episode of The Office.
Angel smacks his shoulder:
𓏵 “Girl, I’m from there! What do you mean is it a real place?!”
Keeho’s mouth forms a thin line, serious:
𓏵 “The place with Dorothy and the wizard?”
Angel is completely done:
𓏵 “Kansas. That’s Kansas!”
Keeho shrugs:
𓏵 “Sorry guys. I’m bad at geography.”
⋮ ⌗ ┆‘ANIMAL🚫MEAT’
[The group was sat down to eat before heading on a road trip, slurping down on their bowls of ramen.]
Angel barely looks at Theo’s plate then continues to eat her own food:
𓏵 “Ya know when people look at a cow and automatically want a burger or something? I can’t stand those kind of people.”
Jongseob nearly chokes on his food, croaking out a few coughs while the other members chuckle at the sudden and unwarranted words.
Keeho shakes his head, making a stink face. He then points to her with his pair of chopsticks:
𓏵 “No one thought of that until you said it.”
⋮ ⌗ ┆‘VAMPIRE FROM SOUTH SOUTH WEST’
[For their Halloween VLive, each of them dresses as vampires. When it was Keeho’s turn, he walked in frame of the camera, crouching low on the floor.]
Keeho pretends to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear:
𓏵 “Hey, y’all! It’s your vampire from the South South West!”
[Keeho retreats onto of the chairs behind him. Jiung makes no reaction, instead withdrawing himself to the other end of the sofa.]
She stretches the hem of her cape out and smiles to show her fangs, proud of herself. Keeho can’t help but laugh, whilst Jiung is embarrassed by the two of them.
⋮ ⌗ ┆‘HE’S HAVING A MOMENT’
[Angel is recording the boys while on train in NYC. The camera pans from Soul waving a peace sign then to Keeho with his airpod’s in. His head pressed against the glass, watching as the tunnel lights flash past them.]
Angel snickers, zooming in:
𓏵 “You good, Stephen?”
Keeho, in character, pinches the bridge of his nose:
₊°｡❆ synopsis: today’s gift: your first real glimpse into the hewon depression™.
just a little vulnerability, a stolen after midnight moment, an ice-cream run, and two ex-lovers who will swear it was “just the July heat” instead of the unresolved feelings simmering under their skin.
the kind of scene where they laugh, touch, pull back, and pretend nothing happened—because denial is free and they are so committed to it.
a taste of what they were, what they lost, and what still aches quietly between them.
₊°｡❆ timeline: 2023
₊°｡❆ word count: 6.6k
₊°｡❆ WELCOME! I had a mini crash out session about how far I wanted to take this drabble last night, but I think this was the best route. I know everyone's really scared for the hewon depression, but there are some perks! this period is more about them exploring their feelings for each other, newly developed and older while giving each space.
the heat was keeping her up this late, making her heart thump in her ears as if she were still on stage—lights blinding, crowd screaming, adrenaline roaring through her veins. the July heat, she reasoned, nodding to herself in the dark. that made perfect sense. completely scientific. absolutely reasonable.
It was the heat.
obviously it was the heat.
ENHYPEN had gotten back from their first stop of the Fate Tour—Seoul. home turf. emotional turf. the kind of night that could split a soul open if you weren’t careful. It was perfect. fans louder than thunder. energy crackling like static. for the first time in months, heran felt alive in a way she could actually feel in her bones.
the heat was messing with her brain, filling her head with memories that belonged to another lifetime, pushing her toward the brink of delirium. yes. the heat was the problem.
IT WAS THE HEAT!
…until that moment.
a brush of her hand against jungwon’s as they passed each other in the dressing room. accidental. barely a second long. a stupid, nothing interaction that shouldn’t have meant anything.
except it did.
because of course it would.
of course her brain would pick the most inconvenient moment of her career to replay something like that on loop.
now she was lying here at 2:17 AM, heart sprinting like it was late to rehearsal, and her thoughts refusing to shut up.
she’d looked up at him at the same time he looked at her. short. hesitant. familiar in a way that made her ribs ache.
he didn’t yank his hand away. he paused—just enough for her to notice. just enough for her to feel.
she tossed. she turned. she kicked her blanket away like it was personally responsible for her suffering. she took off her shirt because it was hot, obviously, and not because she felt like her skin was made of static electricity and regret.
but none of it helped.
none of it did anything to push jungwon out of her mind.
heran slapped her pillow with both hands and groaned into the mattress. she missed him, missed his—
his hand—his warm, steady hand—brushing hers.
his eyes flicking up.
that breath he took.
the tiny, barely-there hesitation.
—OH MY GOD, WHAT WAS UP WITH THIS HEAT?!
heran pressed her bare feet against them anyway, grumbling under her breath as she yanked open the freezer like salvation lived inside it.
the kitchen tiles were cold. or—no, they were supposed to be cold.
right now they felt like they were personally participating in global warming.
empty.
“jay,” she whispered like a curse, forehead hitting the freezer door with a soft thunk. “he forgot to refill it again. I’m gonna strangle him with a dish towel.”
no ice tray.
No ice cream tub.
not even a single pathetic freezer-burned popsicle.
she was overheating. inside, outside, mentally, spiritually. her skin felt too tight for her body, thoughts looping around one specific person’s hand brushing hers like her brain was trying to emotionally waterboard her.
she rummaged through cabinets, opening every drawer like cold air might magically appear.
she did not expect the sound of a soft footstep behind her.
heran froze, and slowly, very slowly, she turned.
jungwon stood in the doorway.
hair messy. shirt clinging to his chest from the humidity. eyes slightly wide like he had not anticipated this either.
for a full two seconds they just stared at each other, both looking like they’d been caught committing tax fraud in the company kitchen at 2:30 AM.
“…hi,” jungwon said softly.
“hi,” she replied, equally soft, equally awkward, equally about to pass out because WHY DID HE LOOK LIKE THAT.
they both cleared their throats at the same time.
“I—uh—sorry,” she said first, because of course she did. “for… being in here.”
jungwon blinked. “you live here.”
“right,” she murmured.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said quickly, eyes flicking away, then back to her in a painful loop. “the heat… it’s crazy.”
heran nodded. her throat felt too tight. “there’s no ice. jay forgot to refill the trays.”
“of course he did,” jungwon said with a tiny laugh, stepping further inside.
he stopped a few steps away, and the kitchen felt smaller. hotter. like the air thickened around him specifically. he ran a hand through his hair and heran’s brain went static. she could practically hear a sizzling sound like she was on a stove.
and oh.
oh no.
this was worse.
or rather, he wasn’t supposed to look at her like that.
they weren’t together.
they were on a break.
they weren’t supposed to look at each other like this—
his eyes dragged over her—the sleep shorts, the thin tank top now plastered to her skin from the heat, her flushed face, her hair tied into a messy ponytail. he looked away instantly, biting his lip as if he’d been caught staring at something he shouldn’t.
heran swallowed. hard.
“you okay?” jungwon asked, voice lower than usual, like he was afraid to be too loud near her.
“yeah,” she lied. “just hot.”
he nodded, still not meeting her eyes, jaw flexing ever so slightly. “yeah. me too.”
heran leaned against the counter, pretending not to feel the sweat at the back of her neck.
silence.
heavy. charged.
the kind of silence where every unspoken thing sits between them like a thick fog.
jungwon pretended to examine the fridge magnets, which would’ve been more convincing if his eyes didn’t keep flicking back to her like he couldn’t help it.
but right now he looked at her like she was both the problem and the cure.
maybe the heat was getting to him.
maybe it was something else.
she needed to break the tension. Immediately. before she did something stupid like remember what his hands felt like on her waist last year or—NOPE. abort. brain, stop.
and heran?
she was dangerously close to forgetting they were on a break.
“do you—” she blurted out, voice cracking like a prepubescent middle-schooler, “—want ice cream?”
silence.
jungwon blinked.
heran blinked back.
they were still in front of an empty freezer.
she wanted to punch herself in the face.
but then jungwon startled slightly, like he’d been yanked out of a daydream he definitely should not have been having. his ears flushed. he looked at the floor. then the ceiling. then the microwave. anywhere but at her.
“I—uh—yeah,” he said, one hand awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “yeah, we can… go. for ice cream. If you want.”
he winced the second the words left his mouth, visibly cringing at himself. he tried again, flustered: “I mean—you asked me, so you do want to. obviously. or else you wouldn’t have asked.”
heran stared at him like he’d just tried to explain quantum physics.
he stared back like he was reconsidering all life choices that led him here.
the air felt thick again, like the heat crawled between them and refused to leave, wrapping around her arms and making her breath shallow.
she saw the moment he realised he’d been caught too.
jungwon shifted his weight, clearing his throat.
she caught him sneaking a quick glance at her tank top again—just half a second, blink-and-miss-it—but she saw it.
heran’s heart kicked hard against her ribs. “right,” she said quietly, using every remaining ounce of self-control. “I’m gonna… go put a shirt on.”
his eyes widened.
he snapped his gaze to the floor so fast it was almost comical.
her words made his head jerk up—and he IMMEDIATELY looked away again, ears burning, caught so red-handed he might as well have been holding a stolen diamond.
“y-yeah! cool!” he said too fast, nodding like a malfunctioning bobblehead. “I’ll just, um—wait here. or something. that’s fine. I’m fine.”
he was very much not fine.
heran turned toward her room, mentally screaming into the void. every step felt loaded, like the heat was mocking her.
behind her, jungwon inhaled sharply, probably giving himself a silent lecture.
she almost smiled. almost. because no matter how messy the break was, how awkward this was, how much they pretended—he still looked at her the way he always did. like she was the beginning and end of something he never fully figured out how to let go of.
and she hated how much she felt it too.
when heran came back into the kitchen, tugging the hem of an oversized t-shirt down to her hips, jungwon straightened so fast he almost knocked over the dish rack.
he tried to act normal. he failed. his eyes flicked up to her face, then away again like her presence was sunlight he couldn’t look at directly.
“okay,” she said softly. “let’s go.”
they stepped into the hallway, the dorm unusually quiet—too quiet. the kind of silence that made every footstep sound louder, every breath feel like an intrusion. they walked side by side, an invisible wall between them, the heat still clinging to the building like a stubborn ghost.
neither spoke.
the elevator ride was even worse.
heran watched the glowing floor numbers tick downward, painfully slow, while jungwon stared ahead with his jaw clenched, hands shoved in his pockets like he was keeping them from doing something stupid.
when the doors opened, they almost tripped over each other trying to step out first.
“sorry—”
“no, you go—”
they both stopped.
looked at each other.
looked away immediately.
outside, the night air was marginally cooler, but the tension between them stayed suffocating—thick, sticky, electric. the streetlamps painted warm pools of light along the pavement, and they walked through them in silence, shadows stretching and merging, never touching.
perfect.
fantastic.
world-class awkward.
the convenience store appeared like a neon oasis.
Inside, the hum of refrigerators filled the space where their conversation should’ve been. heran crouched before the freezer, staring at ice cream options like they were life decisions.
she grabbed a mint chocolate bar. of course she did.
jungwon didn’t comment—he never teased her about her mint choco obsession—but she caught the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. the kind of smile that used to be hers.
he picked a vanilla cone.
classic. safe. him.
they paid, thanked the clerk in overly polite voices, and stepped back into the warm summer night.
still no words. just the crinkle of plastic wrappers and the faint chirp of crickets.
they walked toward the small park a block away, a place they’d visited a hundred times before—late-night schedules, early morning rehearsals, stolen minutes in between.
but tonight felt like walking through a memory they weren’t supposed to be in anymore. they reached the empty swings, sat down on opposite ends of the same bench—not too close, not too far. neutral territory.
the silence gnawed at them while they ate.
heran took a bite of her ice cream. too cold on her overheated skin.
jungwon unwrapped his cone slowly, as if giving himself something to do so he didn’t look at her again.
a minute passed. maybe two.
every breath felt loud.
Instead she said nothing.
she wanted to laugh.
or cry.
or shake him.
or kiss him.
the park around them buzzed with faint electricity from streetlights, cicadas humming like background static. everything looked normal. too normal. like the universe was mocking how not normal this was.
they sat like that—eating, quiet, pretending the space between them wasn’t a battlefield of unspoken things.
eventually, jungwon cleared his throat—quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the suffocating silence. he couldn't handle it.
“so…” he started, staring straight ahead at the empty playground, “are you excited? about the tour.”
heran blinked, the question landing too gently and too heavily at the same time. “yeah,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “so excited. something to keep my mind busy.”
she didn’t mean to sound that honest. she really didn’t. but the heat had melted half her filter.
he nodded, biting the top of his cone like it had personally offended him. “yeah, same.”
she turned her head just slightly—enough to catch him in her peripheral vision.
he felt it. he immediately felt it. and his entire body stiffened like someone had plugged him into a socket, and he blurted out in a frantic rush, “It’s the heat.”
heran’s brow furrowed. “huh?”
“the heat,” jungwon repeated, louder, faster, like doubling down would make it normal. “the heat is making me… think things. and stuff.”
“and stuff,” she echoed, lips twitching. “solid scientific phrasing. well done.”
he exhaled a laugh—awkward, breathy, embarrassingly fond.
she took another bite of her ice cream.
It dripped.
he watched her lick the drip away.
she pretended not to notice.
he pretended he wasn’t noticing.
they both failed miserably.
“yeah bro,” she said, breaking the spiral in her head. “same.”
they both laughed again—forced at the start, then accidentally real near the end. a shared moment of mutual delusion. two idiots clinging to the same fake excuse. because if they didn’t blame the heat, they’d have to blame the part of them that never really stopped wanting each other.
and that was dangerous.
the laughter died out, softening into quiet. the night wrapped around them like warm water—thick, humid, pressing against their skin. a lone streetlamp buzzed above, throwing a faint yellow glow across jungwon’s profile.
heran looked away, too aware of how beautiful he looked like that.
jungwon kicked his shoe against the dirt, too aware of how close her knee was to brushing his.
and then—everything went quiet again.
the cicadas screamed on.
the heat pulsed.
their hearts raced loud enough to fill the silence.
the kind of quiet where both of them were internally collapsing in real time.
not comfortable quiet.
not peaceful quiet.
what the hell is going on right now?
why is this happening?
why does it feel exactly like it used to?
why does it hurt that it feels like it used to?
they sat there, two nineteen-year-olds, pretending it was normal to sit in a park at midnight eating ice cream while trying not to think about how close they’d once been—or how close they still felt.
heran took a shaky breath.
jungwon swallowed hard.
the heat pressed in from all sides. but it wasn’t the heat making their chests feel too tight. It wasn’t the heat making jungwon glance at her every few seconds. It wasn’t the heat making heran’s fingers tremble just slightly.
and they both knew it.
for months, their lives had been shaped around avoidance. the kind of avoidance that wasn’t loud or dramatic, but bone-deep. passing each other in hallways with half-nods. fitting on opposite ends of rehearsal rooms. speaking only when necessary—professional, polite, almost painfully civil. every now and then, one of them would slip: a glance that lasted too long, a joke that sounded a little too familiar, a laugh that came too easily. but then they’d catch themselves. retreat. fortify the walls.
It wasn’t that they had stopped loving each other. that was the problem—they hadn’t. not even a little.
breaks were brutal like that. you couldn't remove someone from your life when they were still in your choreography, your vocals, your daily schedule, your dorm. especially when they were nineteen and exhausted and still learning how to exist as individuals outside of the “you and I” they had created too early and too intensely.
the air between them thickened again—quiet, but not peaceful. heavy. the kind of silence that settled on your shoulders like humidity, reminding you of everything you weren’t saying.
It stretched, lingering with the faint hum of traffic from the main road, the soft glow of streetlights painting their shadows long across the park bench. their ice cream was halfway melted, dripping onto the wrappers they still held like props in a scene neither of them knew how to finish.
and in that stillness, in the weight of breathing next to someone who used to feel like home, the last few months pressed into the moment—uninvited, but impossible to ignore.
because being apart had never really meant apart.
not for them.
a slow ache disguised as distance.
they hadn’t ended in flames or screaming or anything dramatic.
just… exhaustion. misunderstood frustration. two teenagers carrying too much, trying to give each other space but ending up cutting themselves off in the process.
and now here they were—side by side, chewing mint chocolate and vanilla like they hadn’t spent months avoiding being alone in the same room.
heran broke the silence first.
“I’m excited to show you guys around Glendale, though.”
jungwon looked up, surprised—not by the sentence, but by her voice choosing now to soften. “oh?” he asked, trying to play it casual.
“yeah.” she nudged at the gravel with her shoe. “I mean… that’s where I grew up. but still—it’ll be weirdly cool? for you guys to see it.”
a small smile pulled at her mouth, the kind he hadn’t seen in weeks. It made his chest tighten before he could help it.
“you’ll finally see where I was tucked away for thirteen years,” she continued, “before the universe dragged me back here permanently.”
“dragged?” jungwon echoed with a breathy laugh.
“what, you wanted me to say led me gracefully by the hand? no. dragged. kicking and screaming. I was a dramatic twelve-year-old.”
“you’re still dramatic.”
she nudged his shoulder with hers without thinking—then froze, realising what she’d done.
he felt the contact like a static shock. but instead of pulling away, jungwon glanced down at his half-melted ice cream and said quietly, almost fondly—“I’d like to see it.”
her throat went tight—unexpectedly, annoyingly.
“yeah,” she said. “I think you’ll like it. there’s this café that my mom loves. and this stupid hill behind my house that I used to run up because I thought it made me athletic. and the tree I broke my arm under. you know… normal childhood stuff.”
jungwon huffed a tiny laugh. “sounds very you.”
and her chest warmed, because he said it like he remembered everything about her.
like he always would.
they walked back slower than necessary—an unspoken mutual stalling. the kind where neither of them said I don’t want this to end yet, but their footsteps did.
by the time they exited the elevator to the dorm, the hallways were dark and quiet, the hour too late for anyone else to be awake. the air felt different inside—still hot, but sharper, more intimate in the way only a shared home at night could be.
In the kitchen, the overhead light hummed faintly, too bright for their exhausted eyes. heran opened the freezer out of habit, remembering—right—no ice. she sighed and started refilling the trays.
jungwon leaned against the counter opposite her, arms loosely crossed, pretending to examine the magnets on the fridge instead of her profile.
“so,” he said, voice lazy, warm with the softness that crept in only at night, “any childhood boyfriends I don’t know about?”
she glanced over her shoulder, and the look she gave him—half amused, half something else—was unfair.
“you know there aren’t any,” she said.
It came out teasing, deeper than usual, that smooth drop in tone she didn’t even know she did. and jungwon had to genuinely remind himself to breathe.
but he kept his face neutral, only nodding with a drawn-out, “right… right,” like that hadn’t just hit him in the chest.
wow. okay.
he did not miss that.
his whole brain short-circuited like a cheap sparkler.
heran turned back to the sink, filling the tray compartments with practiced ease, humming a little under her breath. the song was familiar—something they used to listen to while getting ready for schedules. something that still made him think of her lip balm, her bracelets clinking, her tapping his shoulder to fix his collar.
she shook off her t-shirt a moment later, tossing it over the back of a chair so she was just in her tank top again, and he immediately regretted ever teasing her about childhood boyfriends because now he was suffering.
he realised with a disorienting kind of clarity: when they’d been together, he’d been so wrapped up in the feeling of loving her—the affection, the worry, the wanting to take care of her—that he hadn’t really slowed down to take her in like this.
the neckline dipped from her bending over the sink, the faint sheen on her collarbones from the heat, the curve of her shoulder as she pushed her hair behind her ear—not to objectify her. he wasn’t.
but holy hell.
he swallowed. “you’re really saying there wasn’t even… like, one little crush?” he tried again, more to ground himself than to actually pry.
and now that they were older—just a year but somehow feeling like five—he was seeing her fully.
the way she moved.
the quiet confidence she didn’t even realise she carried.
the grown-up softness in her face that made something warm settle heavily in his chest.
heran shut the freezer and faced him, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed casually—mirroring him.
“I was busy being a gifted program burnout,” she said dryly. “my only crush was sleep.”
“that’s relatable.”
“plus,” she added, eyes flicking up to him just a fraction too deliberately, “I don’t think anyone would’ve survived dating me back then.”
jungwon scoffed. “why, were you terrifying?”
“um, yeah?” she gestured at herself. “look at me.”
he was looking. that was the problem.
heran didn’t notice the way he swallowed, or the way his fingers tapped the counter—his only outlet for the restless energy in his chest.
“well…” he said, trying for light, failing slightly, “someone survived dating you now.”
“barely,” she deadpanned.
he laughed—quiet, breathy, but real. the kind of laugh that only came out when she was involved.
and she smiled, relaxing without meaning to, the air between them warming again—but in a different way now. not heavy or awkward, but alive with something familiar. something they used to live in without noticing.
a soft, dangerous closeness.
heran pretended to rearrange things in the fridge, even though nothing needed rearranging. the cold air fogged around her hands, giving her a few seconds to collect herself—or try to. because she could feel him behind her. not physically, but in that way you feel someone when they’re looking at you like they’re trying not to.
she shut the fridge softly. and without turning around, she said, almost to the room itself—“I must look fucking gorgeous tonight.”
jungwon blinked. “huh?”
she finally faced him, leaning her hip against the counter, arms still crossed—but her expression was relaxed, confident in that low, dangerous, amused way she got when she was done pretending.
“you’ve been undressing me with your eyes for over an hour now.”
his soul left his body. “wha—I—I wasn’t—” his voice actually cracked. “I wasn’t—undressing—what—”
heran raised a brow. “jungwon.”
he shut his mouth.
silence.
then: “…okay, maybe a little.”
she smirked—not cruelly, but knowingly, the way someone smirks when they catch you in red-handed.
“a little?” she echoed.
he rubbed the back of his neck, looking away like the magnets on the fridge suddenly needed deep contemplation. “you’re… you’re wearing a tank top,” he muttered, as if that explained anything.
heran’s laugh was soft and disbelieving. “so I put on a tank top and you forget how to act?”
“no,” he said too quickly.
then, quieter: “yes.”
It was the honesty that got her. not the words. the fact that he didn’t try to hide it. the fact that he said it like a confession he didn’t mean to give.
she pushed off the counter and stepped closer—not too close, but enough that his eyes flicked briefly to her face, then down to her mouth, then away again.
“so,” she said lightly, “I’m right.”
“I never said that.”
“you didn’t have to.”
heran’s voice dipped again, that low nighttime tone that never failed to get him. “you’ve been staring at me since we got up.”
“that’s not true,” he tried, then immediately caved. “okay, maybe it’s a little true.”
she bit back a laugh. “do you want me to turn around so you can get a better look?”
“heran—” his voice cracked again, utterly betrayed by his own throat.
she grinned, stepping backward slowly, deliberately, giving him space to breathe—or making it worse. probably the latter.
jungwon let out a slow exhale, like he’d been underwater.
“you’re irritating,” he said quietly, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“and you’re obvious,” she shot back.
the air between them tightened again—not awkward this time, but charged. warm. dangerous. he looked at her, really looked at her—eyes lingering, soft, conflicted, wanting.
she held his gaze without flinching.
and for a moment, they just stood there in the dim, humming kitchen—two people who had loved each other too hard, messed it up, and still hadn’t figured out how not to orbit each other.
finally, jungwon said, almost under his breath: “I wasn’t undressing you with my eyes.”
heran tilted her head. “no?”
he shook his head slowly. “I was… remembering.”
something hit her chest—hard, unexpected. and before she could form a reply, he added, barely audible:
“you do look gorgeous tonight, though.”
heran’s breath caught. and the kitchen, for one dizzying moment, felt hotter than July ever could.
she let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh—the kind that slipped out before she could catch it. “you flirting with me right now?” she asked, lips tugging into something half-tease, half-challenge.
jungwon’s answering smile was slow, small, but devastatingly sure of itself. “you complaining?”
and it hit her, with a quiet, startling clarity: he never used to look at her like this.
the question hung there between them, soft but thick with meaning.
and God—she missed this.
missed him like this.
not just him—though God, obviously him—but them. their rhythm. their spark. the push-and-pull that always felt like stepping too close to the edge of something thrilling. the way tension curled around them like a familiar hand sliding up her spine.
when they were together, he’d always been careful with her—gentle, respectful, sweet in that way that made her heart trip over itself. he flirted, sure, but in whispers against her hair, in shy smiles behind closed doors, in the safety of being alone.
but now?
now he held her gaze boldly.
now his voice dropped half an octave when he talked to her.
now he didn’t seem afraid to want things. to show it. to let the tension sit there, thick and humming between them like it belonged.
not that she’d admit that out loud.
and she was loving it.
God, she was so loving it.
heran shook her head, eyes narrowing like she was trying to study him—like he was suddenly brand new. “why would I be complaining,” she said slowly, deliberately, “when you’re looking at me like that?”
jungwon blinked once. twice. and then he actually laughed—quiet, incredulous, like wow, she got me there. “I wasn’t looking at you like anything,” he protested, weakly.
“liar.”
he huffed. “okay, maybe I was looking a little.”
“don’t ‘uh-huh’ me.”
she stepped closer—barely half a step, but he felt it like a shockwave.
“uh-huh.”
“I will ‘uh-huh’ you if I want to.”
“that doesn’t even make sense—”
“you don’t make sense.”
he stared at her, incredulous, lips twitching. “that’s your comeback? really?”
she shrugged, folding her arms. “did it work?”
he opened his mouth, then closed it again. “…yeah. unfortunately.”
heran smiled—slow, warm, dangerously soft. the kind of smile she’d used to hide in the collar of his hoodie because she didn’t want him to see how much he affected her.
the kind of smile he had always wanted to see more of.
jungwon shifted his weight, leaning back against the counter as if he needed something solid behind him. his eyes drifted over her face, lingering with a hunger he wasn’t trying hard enough to hide.
“you know,” he said, voice dipping, “if this is you being normal… I’m terrified to see you actually try.”
she raised a brow. “try what?”
“flirting.”
her lips parted, amused. “you think this is me flirting?”
“I hope this is you flirting,” he shot back, meeting her gaze straight on.
heran’s pulse jumped. “why?”
electric.
It was actually electric—the air tightening between them until it felt like one wrong move, one wrong breath, would snap something they couldn’t take back.
jungwon’s eyes flicked down—her mouth, her collarbone, back to her eyes. he looked at her like she was heat and gravity and every bad idea he wanted to make.
“because,” he said softly, “if you’re not flirting with me right now… then I’m the only idiot who is.”
her breath caught in her throat. she swallowed, eyes dropping for a second—only a second—before lifting back to him.
“relax,” she murmured, tilting her head. “I wasn’t complaining, remember?”
“yeah?” his voice sharpened with something warm. “good.”
“good?”
he nodded once, slow. “means I can keep going.”
heran’s stomach flipped—traitorously, overwhelmingly—because that tone, that look, that small flash of confidence?
that was new.
she leaned one hand on the counter beside him. close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin. “then go on,” she said, soft, teasing. “keep going.”
and she liked it.
a lot.
dangerously.
and for the first time in months—with the humming kitchen light above them, and the heat of July pressing through the window—
jungwon actually, truly let himself grin.
like he was ready to cross every line they’d been tiptoeing around.
one clean, decisive movement.
his grin shifted—slow at first, then blooming into something sharp with confidence he didn’t used to wield so openly around her.
and before she could process the shift, he stepped in.
he turned her, guiding her back until she was the one pressed lightly against the counter. her breath caught—not from surprise, but from the thrill that shot through her like static meeting gasoline.
“since when,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek, “are you the one telling me what to do?”
heran’s laugh came out softer than she meant it to—low, breathy, dangerously close to a sound she’d make somewhere far more private.
she let her hips rest against the edge of the counter, fingers curling behind her just to keep her grounded. “you looked a little lost,” she teased, tilting her head. “figured I could help.”
jungwon’s eyes flicked down—her mouth, her throat, the line of her collarbone disappearing beneath the thin straps of her tank top—and when they lifted again, they were darker.
“oh?” he said, smiling like he’d already won something. “you wanna help?”
heran opened her mouth, but that was the moment his hand found her waist.
a full, warm, intentional touch—palm flat against her side like he’d been thinking about doing it for months.
not accidental.
not brushing.
not hesitant.
she inhaled, sharply.
It was ridiculous how fast her body responded—how everything in her lit up, how her pulse jumped under her skin, how the heat she’d been complaining about all night suddenly felt like it was coming from him instead of the weather.
and it was electric—intoxicating, every nerve ending suddenly awake.
his thumb brushed the small space of skin exposed where her tank top had ridden up. just a small circle. testing.
remembering.
relearning.
“tell me how you wanna help, then,” jungwon said quietly, voice dipping, hand tightening the smallest bit on her waist. “go on.”
heran swallowed, a smile tugging at her mouth despite how breathless she felt. “you’re… awfully confident all of a sudden.”
oh, he was bold tonight.
and she loved it.
loved seeing the edges of him sharpen like this. loved that he wasn’t pretending anymore—wasn’t hiding how badly he wanted to touch her.
his other hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “am I?” he murmured. “or am I just finally saying what I’ve been thinking?”
he said it like a confession disguised as a tease.
heran’s breath hitched, and her fingers—traitorously—came up to sit on his chest, not pushing him away, just… holding him there. feeling the warmth of him. the softness of his shirt. the beat of his heart, faster than he wanted her to notice.
his hand slipped from her waist to her hip, fingers curving around it like he was remembering the fit.
heran shivered. actually shivered.
“nervous?” she teased, but her voice was low, her eyes dark.
“only if you are.”
“I’m not.”
he smiled, small but wicked. “then why are your hands shaking?”
he stepped closer. just enough that their bodies brushed, barely, but enough for her breath to stutter. his hands roamed slowly, teasingly—from her hip, to the curve of her waist, up her side just enough to make her exhale a shaky laugh.
she scoffed, even as her fingers curled tighter into his shirt. “It’s the heat.” heran bit her lip. that was a mistake.
jungwon’s eyes followed the motion like it physically pulled his attention.
she leaned back against the counter, chest rising a little too quickly, every inch of her alive with the proximity, the history, the months of wanting-but-not-having.
“you’re enjoying this,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that his nose brushed her cheek.
“obviously,” she whispered, breath ghosting against his jaw. “why wouldn’t I?”
he let out a soft, disbelieving huff.
like she had no idea what she did to him.
but she was starting to see it now—in the way his hands kept drifting like he couldn’t stop touching her, in the way he watched her like she was something he’d spent months trying not to think about.
and maybe she didn’t.
not fully.
“heran,” he said quietly, almost like a warning. but his hands didn’t move away. and neither did she.
she moved in closer, the air tightening between them like a pulled thread. heeran’s smile turned slow, feline, wicked in the way only someone who knows exactly how much power they hold can be. her hands slid up—light, deliberate—brushing the warm skin at the back of his neck before curling there. her breath ghosted over the shell of his ear.
“what?” she whispered, playful, coaxing. “I thought you wanted to flirt a little.”
he inhaled sharply—barely—but she felt it against her collarbone. felt him react, felt the shift in him, that spark rising from his chest straight into the palms resting at his nape. he’d missed this. she could tell. missed her. missed everything they’d been too scared to touch for months.
her voice softened further, syrup-sweet and devastating. “I got told you’ve been having a really hard time being around me lately.”
he froze—just for a beat—but it was enough to make her grin widen. he didn’t pull away. didn’t deny it. his fingers only pressed firmer at her waist, as if grounding himself, or maybe as if he finally didn’t want to pretend anymore.
“I almost forgot,” she murmured, tilting her head so her lips nearly grazed his cheek, “just how much you liked me.”
his forehead dipped the smallest bit closer, instinctive, helpless. heran could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, that careful self-control he always clung to slipping like water through his fingers.
jungwon’s hands, which had been politely lingering at her waist as if asking for permission he already had, finally moved—one sliding up her spine, the other bracing at her hip, pulling her closer by a fraction he convinced himself she wouldn’t notice.
but she did.
of course she did.
heran laughed softly—quick, breathy, the kind of laugh that trembled right through him. “I don’t think your hand is supposed to be there,” she murmured, eyes flicking downward in pointed amusement.
he didn’t move it. If anything, his fingers flexed slightly, betraying him. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here at all,” he whispered back.
It wasn’t a joke.
but It wasn’t not a joke.
It hung in the air between them, a hot, dizzying truth they were both pretending not to recognize.
and they both felt it. the wrongness. the relief.
because this—whatever this was—was temporary. borrowed. fragile.
a moment stolen from a break neither of them ever really wanted.
heran tilted her head, smiling up at him. “so why are you?”
he held her gaze like she was something dangerous. something he’d convinced himself he could handle. “heat makes you do stupid things,” he said lightly. “I read that somewhere.”
“where? a fanfic?” she teased.
“maybe.”
she giggled—this small, bright, helpless sound—and jungwon’s expression cracked, his grin slipping out before he could stop it. his thumb brushed the small of her back, almost an apology, almost a promise. nothing about it was accidental.
they were close. too close. close in the way that didn’t feel new, just familiar and missed.
“you’re being bold today,” she said, voice low, almost proud.
“and you’re acting like you don’t like it.”
heran snorted softly. “I never said I didn’t.”
“exactly,” he murmured.
their breaths mingled, warm and unsteady. his forehead was inches from hers now—closer than friends stood, closer than exes should be. but they weren’t friends, not really. not right now. they were something rawer. something they hadn’t named yet.
heran poked his chest lightly, trying to break the spell before it consumed her. “you know we’re gonna go back to being weird tomorrow, right?”
“oh, for sure,” jungwon said immediately, nodding. “I’m probably gonna avoid eye contact all day.”
“and I’m gonna pretend this didn’t happen.”
“exactly.”
the honesty should’ve hurt. Instead, it made them laugh—quietly, softly, the way people do when they realise they’ve both been grieving the same thing.
and for the first time in months, standing in this overheated room with his hand on her waist and her fingers curled behind his neck, they didn’t feel like strangers.
because they didn’t just lose the relationship.
they’d lost each other.
jungwon leaned in again, eyes flicking from her lips to her eyes and back. “we’re… blaming the heat, right?”
“oh, absolutely,” she said, dead serious.
“cool. cool. just checking.”
her smile turned devilish. “you’re really using weather as an excuse?”
“this is survival,” he insisted, grinning. “you’re—way too close.”
“you pulled me.”
“you let me.”
heran’s laugh—light, disbelieving—curved the corner of jungwon’s mouth like a hook pulling him closer. they stared at each other then, really stared, eyes locked in that silent dare. the room around them went still, humming refrigerator and all, as if the night itself was holding its breath.
a soft, reckless confession.
his jaw flexed once. twice.
then he said it—“fuck it.”
he dipped his head a little, voice low enough it felt private even in a kitchen they shared with six other people.
for a second she genuinely thought she misheard him. her laugh burst out, startled. “dude, don’t be an idiot.”
“am I gonna have to beg or…?”
he meant kiss me.
he meant tell me you want this too.
“oh, I can do idiot,” he murmured back, thumb brushing her waist slow enough to make her swallow. “five seconds. I swear. you can even count.”
she laughed again—caught between flattered and flustered and dangerously close to letting him win. she didn’t move away. If anything, she leaned in, grin bright enough to burn right through him.
her lips parted just the smallest bit—and then a door down the hallway clicked open.
they jumped apart like teenagers caught behind a shed, putting a meter of cool air between them so fast it was embarrassing. jungwon’s hand flew back like it had been burned; heran pretended the fridge magnets were the most interesting things she’d ever seen in her life.
sunoo dragged himself into the kitchen in pajamas and fuzzy slippers shaped like rabbits, hair sticking up like he lost a fight with his pillow.
“oh my god,” he groaned dramatically, fanning himself, “I swear I am dissolving. It's so hot I’m about to evaporate and leave only my Dior lip oil behind.”
heran cleared her throat, face warm for entirely not heat-related reasons. “yeah, we just got up to get something to drink.”
jungwon stayed by the island, posture suspiciously upright—like his body couldn’t decide whether to run or collapse. his ears were red. his thoughts were loud enough you could practically hear them.
sunoo opened the freezer, looked inside, then whimpered. “there’s no ice? no ice?! ugh—this is hell. I need like a tub of mint chocolate ice cream right now."
he turned to heran and pointed accusingly. “heran, put a shirt on—let’s go to the convenience store before I melt into the tiles. I refuse to die in this dorm looking like a dehydrated sea monkey.”
but she slipped into the role effortlessly, not a flicker of what just happened crossing her face. “okay, give me a sec.”
heran blinked.
convenience store.
mint chocolate.
she had literally just gone for ice cream with jungwon.
she grabbed her abandoned t-shirt from the chair, pulling it over her head—her movements quick, casual. too casual. like she needed the fabric as armor.
jungwon watched her fingers settle the hem.
his chest felt too tight.
he wanted to curse out loud.
sunoo yawned, oblivious to the storm he’d interrupted. “jungwon, you coming?”
they’d been right there.
five seconds. maybe less.
he shook his head a little too quickly. “nah, I—uh—I’m just… gonna cool off.”
heran stood by the doorway, looking back at him without meaning to. a shared flash of what-could-have-been sparked through the space between them, fragile as glass.
cool off.
sure.
he was burning.
and jungwon—just for himself, just for a moment—let his eyes linger. her hair still messy from the heat. her cheeks warm. that almost-kiss still hanging between them like a taste he didn’t get to try.
she smiled the smallest smile. “see you in a bit.”
sunoo tugged her toward the hall, rambling something about ice cream flavors, and she followed—bare feet padding away, heartbeat loud in her chest, throat tight with want and frustration and something intoxicatingly alive.
jungwon stayed frozen where she’d left him.
staring at the empty space she’d filled.
hand flexing at his side like it still remembered her waist there.
he dragged a palm over his face and exhaled—quiet, wrecked, amused at himself like he deserved it.
Pairing: Sam Monroe x female!oc
Word Count: 1052
Kink: Overstimulation - too much pleasure to handle
Warning(s): Explicit (18+, NSFW), overstimulation, begging/denial, rough sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, protected sex, power play, a bit of degradation, soft aftercare
Beyond Limits
The house was quiet in a was Sam didn't usually get to experience. His mom, stepdad, and the two little half-brothers were gone for the afternoon - some family thing George had dragged them to. Sam had made up an excuse to stay behind, claiming homework and a headache, but in truth, he had a different plan entirely.
The second Lana walked through the door, his nerves buzzed. His dark eyes flicked toward the clock, then back to her. Brown hair falling over her face, the way she smirked like she already knew what was coming. She dropped her bag by the couch.
"We've got about three hours," Sam muttered, stepping close, his lip piercing catching the light as he half-smiled. "Think I can make you scream before then?"
Lana's lips parted, a shaky laugh leaving her throat. "Three hours? You planning on killing me?"
His hand was already sliding up her arm, tugging her flush against him. "Maybe." He kissed her hard, mouth hot and insistent, his tongue pressing between her lips like he had something to prove. When she gasped, his hands slid down to grip her ass, hauling her up until her legs wrapped around his hips.
They didn't make it far. Sam carried her into his bedroom, dropping her onto the bed with a bounce. He stripped his hoodie off in one rough motion, black shirt rucked up over his lean torso. Lana's eyes roamed, biting her lip. He watched he watching him, his cock already straining against the front of his jeans.
"You gonna undress for me, or should I rip it off?" he asked, voice gravelly.
She tugged her shirt over her head, bra soon after, baring herself with a shaky exhale. Sam's pupils blew wide. He didn't bother with patience; he ripped her jeans down, tugged her panties off, and sank between her thighs.
"Sam - fuck-" Lana's back arched as his mouth latched onto her pussy, tongue flattening against her clit in firm, relentless strokes. He ate like he was starving, piercing gaze fixed up at her face even as she writhed.
Her hand tangled in his dyed hair. "Oh my god - don't stop - please don't-"
He smirked against her, two fingers pushing inside without warning, curling hard against the spot that made her see stars. She yelped, thigh clamping, but Sam only groaned, the vibrations rattling through he cunt.
It didn't take long. She came hard around his fingers, trembling, voice cracking as she cried his name. He didn't let up, didn't slow, tongue flicking mercilessly as he pumped through her orgasm and right into another.
"Sam, I - fuck - it's too much-" Her hips jerked, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as the aftershocks burned raw into oversensitivity. She tried pushing at his head, but he caught her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her against the sheets.
"Thought you liked it when I ruined you," he rasped between licks, spit shining her folds. "Don't tell me you're done already."
Her body betrayed her, clenching down around his fingers again ever as she sobbed out, "Please - please - s'too much-"
Sam only crooked his fingers harder, pushing her over again, her thighs shaking violently as another orgasm ripped out of her.
By the time he finally pulled back, his chin was wet, lips swollen, and Lana was a wreck - panting, flushed, thighs sticky with slick. He crawled up her body, kissing her messy mouth, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
"You think I'm stopping before I fuck you?" he muttered, already tugging his belt open.
Her eyes widened, still glassy. "I - I can't-"
"You can," he growled, rolling a condom down over his length with one practiced hand. His cock pressed thick and heavy against her entrance. "And you will. Gonna take me like a good girl while I get off."
The first thrust made her cry out, body arching off the bed. She was already so raw, every nerve overstimulated, but Sam sank into the hilt anyway, groaning as her walls spasmed around him.
"Shit - you're so tight - clenching like you're about to break me-" He set a brutal rhythm, hips snapping against hers, hands gripping her thighs so hard he'd leave burises.
Lana clawed at his shoulders, nails dragging down his back. "Sam - please - please-"
"You begging me to stop?" he panted against her ear, thrusts unrelenting.
"Yes - fuck-" she sobbed, overwhelmed, tears sliding down her temples.
He kissed the wet streaks, voice a low snarl. "Too bad. Not stopping 'til I cum, filling you with my dick until you're ruined for anyone else."
Her cries turned into broken moans as another orgasm wrenched out of her, body convulsing beneath him. She screamed his name, shaking, overstimulated beyond reason - and still he fucked her through it, using her wrung-out body like she was his anchor.
"Good fucking girl - take it - take all of me-" His pace grew erratic, groans spilling out between clenched teeth. One more snap of his hips and he buried himself deep, spilling hot into the condom with a guttural growl, her name torn from his throat.
For a moment, the room was nothing but ragged breathing, the distant thud of his pulse in his ears. Sam collapsed against her, careful not to crush her, his forehead pressed to her damp neck.
When he finally pulled out, he stripped the condom off, tossing it aside, and looked at her. She was trembling, eyes red, lips kiss-swollen. And yet, she smiled weakly up at him.
"Jesus Christ, Sam..."
Something softened in his chest. His kissed her gently this time, nothing like the rough claim from before. Just slow, tender.
"You okay?" he murmured, brushing damp hair off her face.
She nodded, though her voice was hoarse. "Yeah... wrecked, but okay."
He tugged the blanket over them, pulling her into his chest. His fingers tracing idle patterns on her back, grounding her. "Didn't mean to push too far," he admitted quietly, surprising himself. "I just... couldn't stop."
Lana nestled closer, sighing against his skin. "I liked it. Even when I begged. I knew you'd take care of me after."
They lay tangled together, the outside world forgotten, until the sound of the garage door rumbling open signaled the family's return. Sam only held her tighter, not ready to let go.
WARNINGS: after sex moment. I tried to make something different and wrote on JK's pov so we can understand more about his long love for Somi. hope you like it!
masterlist 🌻 requests are open
feedback is always important to me!
Somi collapsed against Jungkook’s arm, coming undone once again.
His room breathed sweat, alcohol, and sex. The aftermath of dragging her home from Calvin Klein’s after-party celebrating their new collection, where both had been promoting. The night had seemed harmless enough: two idols orbiting each other, existing in the same space. But Somi made sure Jungkook’s eyes never left her.
Especially when one particular actor approached, far too charming for Jungkook’s liking. He clenched his jaw as Somi laughed at something the man said, her head thrown back, hair slipping loose from its clip. Later, when they stepped out of the club’s bathroom, facing each other, Jungkook couldn’t let that slide.
“You going home with him?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.
Somi laughed, already a little high, instantly catching his meaning.
“What if I am?” she teased, closing the distance, fingers toying with his shirt collar. “I’m single, remember? You think I’m supposed to sit around waiting for you to decide if I’m worth the risk?”
The words hit Jungkook like a slap. He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding silently. Somi chuckled, stealing a quick kiss before leaving him standing there, blood surging through his veins, her perfume lingering like a taunt.
Weeks of fooling around had led them here. Secret meetings without excuses, late nights bleeding into early mornings, shared drinks to dull exhaustion while they pushed through their solo careers. And Jungkook realized one thing: there was no turning back now.
It was never supposed to cross that line. They had promised each other it wouldn’t, swearing their friendship would survive untouched, because they knew the moment they acknowledged what simmered between them, the foundation they built for years would begin to tremble.
But now, with Somi curled against his arm, skin warm, bare, and far too familiar, he knew they had already crossed every invisible line they pretended existed. He stared at the ceiling, chest rising slowly, trying to ground himself while Somi shifted beside him, tracing absent-minded circles on his chest, also trying to recompose herself.
This was supposed to be casual. Something they could put back in a box when morning came and their hectic agendas reclaimed them. But it wasn’t.
Somi looked at him at the same moment he looked at her, their gazes locking. And that terrified him.
Her makeup was smudged, hair a mess, eyes warm with that familiar sharpness that always made him feel seen and exposed all at once. She didn’t look like someone he’d accidentally slept with, but someone he had chosen.
Yet he knew the truth.
She had chosen him.
There was something about Somi he could never quite explain. Every time the topic of ideal types or interests came up, somehow, she was always the reference point for every guy.
She wasn’t loudly extravagant or intimidatingly fancy, she was just enough. Enough to make even the simplest outfits look expensive, effortless. But beyond the physical, Somi was kind.
The kind of kindness you aren’t taught, the kind you’re born with.
And that… that was his Achilles’ heel. The one thing he’d never truly found in any girl he’d dated, or even tried to.
Somi’s image lingered in his mind like a ghost ever since the first time they spoke. A quick break in the Music Bank hallways. She still carried that sharp, intense aura from the Wolf era, dressing the same as her members, while he was barely past his rookie days. And still, she’d been the sweetest person in the world when she noticed him struggling with his mic pack, stepping in without a second thought.
A few months later, they grew closer through mutual friends, the circle that would eventually become the so-called ‘97 line.
He tried to bury those feelings for years. Tried to ignore them, minimize them. He even tried, in a twisted way, to use her presence to get other girls’ attention. Especially when she started dating Taemin, the moment that stripped him of any remaining hope.
No one knew about his feelings but his members.
Until the day Somi sent a message to the group chat, saying she had broken up with Taemin, something about him being an asshole, for as long as Jungkook could remember. His heart raced, palms sweating, and suddenly he was sixteen again, transported back to the hallway where she’d helped him fix his in-ears.
Still, he couldn’t do much, not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how.
Instead, their group did what they always did. Went out. Dragged her through every club in Seoul they could think of, trying to find the one where she could dance her feelings away, one of the many contradictions about her shy personality that never failed to amuse him.
Eventually, they ended up at a convenience store, sitting under fluorescent lights, eating ramen while he, Yugyeom, BamBam, Mingyu, and Jihyo tried to comfort her.
That was the day he told Yugyeom and Mingyu the truth. Right after dropping her off at her dorm, finally accepting he would do something about his feelings.
He forgot one small detail: their agenda.
EXO kept growing bigger every day, while BTS began working their way out into the world. With that, they grew distant for a while, their schedules refusing to align except for quick interactions backstage, in crowded hallways at the countless award shows both groups were competing for.
And yet, she was always there. Coffee trucks whenever he had a big schedule. Flowers to celebrate his comebacks. Surprise gifts. Press kits she made sure he received before almost anyone else.
Then she started college, and EXO entered their unofficial hiatus as her members prepared for enlistment. For the first time in a long while, time was finally on their side.
But, out of the blue, G-Dragon came into the scene.
And of course, in between all her relationships and his failed attempts to show his feelings, Jungkook didn’t forget to live his own life, ironically enough, with Somi playing cupid more times than he could count.
It was always someone connected to her: a friend of a friend, a manager here, a stylist there, some dancer she thought he’d look cute with. She’d laugh, tease, and push him toward them, never realizing how much it stung.
Eventually, he opened his heart to his other friends, confessing the truth he had carried for years. They all gave him the same advice.
“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”
Even her own members caught wind of it. Jongin teased him one night when they were out together.
“Somi has absolutely no idea, Jungkook-ah. I promise you.” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Do you really think she’d be single all this time if she knew you were in love with her? She’s your friend, but trust me, she’s still a girl who wants to be loved.”
Even with all the encouragement, it took Jungkook another year to finally gather the courage. One more year of silence, of stolen glances, of pretending his feelings weren’t clawing at him.
It happened after the ‘97 Line party, when Somi casually mentioned she had broken up with G-Dragon. Her words were simple, almost careless, but to Jungkook they felt monumental. That was it. That was his chance. And this time, he took it.
Still, it took him two dates to finally kiss her, and one more before she ended up like she was at that moment, wrapped against his arm after a heavy, breathless, and unrestrained make‑out session.
He was pulled back to reality when Somi suddenly got up, slipping into his shirt and twisting her hair into a bun.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice soft, almost sleepy.
“Drink that wine.” Somi answered, a mischievous smile on her face as she glanced over her shoulder, leaving Jungkook’s room and making her way to his kitchen.
Jungkook followed her, of course. A quick glance at his phone told him it was just past 3 a.m. Wasn’t she going to sleep? He laughed at his own thoughts before pulling on the first pair of shorts he could find, not really caring about underwear or anything else.
He heard Somi opening his kitchen cabinets, the clink of glasses followed by a sharp pop. When he entered the kitchen, she was pouring an imported white wine into one of the glasses.
“Will you join me?” she asked, holding up the bottle. “Nothing better than good wine after good sex, right?”
Somi bit her lip. Not in a seductive way, but to hold back her laughter. She knew that kind of dirty talk didn’t really suit her.
“Jesus, woman.” Jungkook chuckled, making her giggle. He walked over, kissed her lips, and buried his face in her hair, a habit he was starting to develop.
“Do your parents know you like to drag the party out until the last minute, even after amazing sex like that?” he teased.
Somi shrugged, taking a long sip of her drink.
“We don’t really talk about my after‑party‑after‑sex habits at family lunch, Jungkook‑ssi.” she replied, making Jungkook laugh out loud. He gave her a light smack on the butt before leaning against the counter, facing her.
“JK,” she said softly. “can I ask you something?”
Jungkook frowned at her sudden change in tone.
“Of course.”
Somi opened her mouth a couple of times, as if stumbling, trying to find the right words.
“What are we doing?”
Suddenly, there was silence. It stretched. Not awkward, but honest.
Somi let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for weeks. No. That conversation wasn’t meant to happen that night. Not when they had just shared an amazing moment together.
“See?” she said, chuckling, almost mocking. “That’s exactly why I’m scared. I don’t know if I can keep doing the in‑between anymore.”
Jungkook frowned harder, stepping closer.
“Somi, you’re drunk. Let’s sleep and talk things out tomorrow.” He tried to pull her by the waist, but she stepped back.
“No.” she said firmly. “You know I’m not drunk.”
He sighed, running a hand through his freshly cut hair.
“The in‑between?”
“Yeah, this.” Somi said, gesturing between them. “Us pretending we don’t care. Acting like it’s casual when it’s clearly not. I’ve been there before, Jungkook. I stayed too long and fell hard.” she locked her gaze on his. “I’m not going through that again.”
Jungkook stared at her, dead serious for a few seconds then he laughed.
Somi frowned instantly.
“Do you think this is funny, Jungkook?” she asked, her voice firm, unamused.
He shook his head, stepping closer and cupping her face with both hands, gently squishing her cheeks without realizing it. All those years… and how could she not see it? How could she not know how truly, madly, deeply in love he was with her?
“Somi,” he said her name softly, but it made her flinch anyway. “I love you.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he was faster, silencing her with a kiss. His hands slid down to her shoulders, grounding her, as if every touch was finally saying what he’d buried for years.
“I would never, ever, hurt you,” he said, his voice steady, almost fierce. “I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met. I’ve been dying to share even the smallest moments of my life with you.” he let out a breath, forehead resting against hers. “Everyone knows it.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her.
“I don’t know what you felt with Taemin or Jiyoung. But I’m not them.” his thumb brushed her jaw, gentle. “I love you, Somi. I’ve been loving you for years. And having the chance to be here, to have this version of you, is something I’ve dreamed about for longer than I can admit.”
Somi didn’t speak right away.
For the first time since he’d known her, she looked unsure of what to say. Her eyes searched his face like she was trying to find the lie, a crack, an hesitation, but finding none only scared her more.
She let out a shaky breath, resting her forehead against his chest. For a moment, she stayed like that, listening to his heartbeat, steady and warm, grounding in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” she asked, somehow pouting. Jungkook laughed as he pulled her into a hug. Somi laughed, soft, broken, the kind that comes right before tears, before finally looked up at him.
“I always have been, Somi.”
She studied him one last time, then reached for the empty wine glass on the counter, lifting and offering it to him.
“Well,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips as she poured some wine for him to. “here’s to making it complicated.”
Jungkook clinked his glass against hers, eyes never leaving her face.
“To choosing each other. I love you.” he repeated.
“I love you too.” she confessed.
They drank, and in the quiet that followed, surrounded by half-empty glasses, tangled clothes, and a future neither of them had planned. With no urgency or fear. Just the certainty that whatever came next, they wouldn’t face it alone.
“Dispatch will love us.” Somi said, breaking that atmosphere, Jungkook giggling and nodding, agreeing with the girl.
Long before the sirens, before the soot that clung to his skin like second thoughts, before the weight of a city’s trust settled onto his shoulders, Rafe Cameron had a dream.
Not the kind born from privilege or expectation, though he had plenty of both. No, this one was different. It wasn’t handed to him, and it wasn’t for show. It lived in him quietly, a small flame that flickered brighter every time a fire truck roared down the street, lights splitting the night like a pulse.
He wanted to help people.
He wanted to save them.
He wanted to matter.
And in this universe, one kinder to his demons, gentler to his choices, Rafe Cameron actually made it. He became a firefighter. And for a while, that was enough.
Across the city, sometimes close enough to feel its heartbeat, sometimes too far to hear it, Emily Cravitz was chasing a different kind of dream.
Runway lights. Camera flashes. A life stitched together by glamour and confidence.
But dreams don’t always unfold the way they should.
Sometimes they tangle.
Sometimes they tear.
For Emily, the break came quietly: a rejection, then another, then the slow understanding that the world she’d imagined for herself wasn’t the one waiting for her. Agencies saw her as too short, too unconventional, too “almost.” And “almost” was never enough.
So she shelved her dream.
She folded it, tucked it away, pretended it didn’t ache.
Two beings.
Two dreams : one lived, one broken.
Two paths that should’ve never crossed.
But fate, mischievous, persistent, impossibly precise, has a way of drawing lines between people who need each other, even before they know it.
And on a night when smoke curled into the sky and sirens painted the streets red, Rafe Cameron and Emily Cravitz were about to meet for the first time.
Not as a hero and a model.
Not as success and failure.
But as two souls, quietly unraveling.
And maybe, just maybe, ready to stitch something new together.
