Under the hoodie/layers, she tends to wrap her legs around her kinda like a hug! And so in the first part that's the weird bumps under the hoodie. They're starting to unravel a bit. She hates being called a monkey cause it's NOT her fault she's short and has to climb on things and up things and includes people in "things" category.
whats up i drew like one lil thing and then got stuck on daydreaming again and got really emotional over it but if i talked about it im just proving i am too one of those delusional fanfiction writers who take everything so far you wouldnt know its fanfiction if it wasnt for calling it that
Annie talks: This came to me in a dream (not even kidding), it’s not even good but i just HAD to write something i swear
Content warnings: tooth rotting achingly sweet fluff, steve and reader are married, dad!steve, short and sweet
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
You and Steve hated each other at first, you remembered how he used to treat girls back in his “glory days”. That was before hell broke loose and you were forced to make friends with the enemy.
After the first few upside down battles, you and Steve got closer. And closer. Until, one night, you two kissed. From then on, your lives were completely and fully embedded.
Through day and night, planning and taking down inter dimensional monsters, you found a home in Steve Harrington’s arms.
Now those arms had become the home of your daughter, too.
Ellie is only three and recently entered the “nightmare” stage. You and your husband have had a couple of rough weeks, slowly adjusting to her current phase.
Tonight is no different, you were asleep and so was Steve. Until Ellie screamed loud enough to wake the both of you, followed by crying. Before you could move, Steve takes the lead
“Let me.”
“I can take it.” You protest
“Go back to sleep, we’ll be alright.” He presses a kiss to your forehead
You give him a soft nod, not bothering to argue at three in the morning, and watch as he leaves. You can hear him ask “What happened?” to your daughter as she cries. The crying gets muffled at what you’re sure is Steve’s chest pressed against her face as he comforts Ellie. You hear him reassure her quietly
“It’s okay, you’re alright, babygirl. You’re at home and you’re safe”
You also hear her speak, assuming she pulled back from the embrace
“The monster was so big, daddy, and he did-“
But it gets muffled as he presses her against his chest again
You know what he’s doing, you know those methods because it’s what he’s used with you countless times before.
Tonight is taking a little bit longer than usual, though.
Even if the Upside Down is long gone, if it’s too quiet for too long, you tend to jump to the worst conclusions. Worried about both of them, you thread out of the bedroom and walk towards your kid, ignoring the weight that is settling in your bones.
As you get progressively closer, the sound of Steve’s voice gets clearer and the heavy in your chest vanishes. But his voice is different
It’s softer than before and…melodic. When you get there, the scene surprises you:
He’s singing.
Steve is holding her in his arms, his back to you, rocking back and forth as he sings “Beautiful Boy” to your daughter in a very tired parent way. He does make slight adjustments to the song, though.
“The monster’s gone, he’s on the run and your daddy’s here…beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl…”
You hear from the doorway, he’s completely unaware you’re watching them both and how you’ll cherish this memory.
You’ve always known Steve would be a great dad, you just didn’t know it would make you fall in love with him every single time you saw it.
Coming back to your senses, you’re sure you don’t want to disrupt them, so you slowly walk back into your bedroom and into bed, a soft smile creeping up your face.
If he’s that good with only one kid, imagine when he finds out there’s another one on the way.
Pluto in the 1st house natives are usually treated terribly with kids their age and adults
Saturn in the 7th housers have by far the driest love life’s ever. Even if they are in a relationship they could date individuals who are pretty boring & unromantic (unless other placements help) they can have a more practical relationship than romantic/exciting.
Uranus square Venus don’t really have a “type” when dating, they date some of the oddest people I swear. Just anything that stimulates their mind. Can do better in long distance relationships than most people due to their extreme need for freedom.
Moon square Saturn can indicate feeling neglected or unloved by your mother. I’ve seen a lot of ppl with this placement be put up for adoption or in foster care systems.
A lot of Taurus risings that I met had the most beautiful singing voice, (Gemini risings too are pretty good singers).
Scorpio moons can ruin a lot of healthy with a lot of potential due to their issue with being vulnerable. They can be super suspicious & secretive for no reason. This can make a lot of people believe you’re not really into them… they’ll be obsessed with a person but still act very nonchalant.
Gemini moons usually fall in love with people that can make them laugh. They love to laugh & being around people with good humor.
Virgo rising women are either baddies or super nerds… no in between lol.
Scorpio risings can trigger people like no other. They reflect others unhealed trauma causing others to react to them in an extreme manner. They tend to rub people the wrong way (even though most are sweethearts so I have no idea why:(
Having a Venus in retrograde in either Aries or Scorpio can cause women to hate on you a lot or be rude to you for no reason.
Neptune in the 12th house natives are so psychic it’s insane. Very sensitive to the energies around them… sometimes a little too sensitive. With this placement it’s important to find ways to keep yourself grounded or have some sort of spiritual outlet. If you have this placement DO NOT experiment with drugs, you are more likely to get hooked on substances due to your escapist nature. Could also have a deep love for music or making music.
Venus in the 5th house people never doesn’t have a crush lol. Always crushing on someone new. They get SOO obsessed with their crushes lol. (Even if they’re in a relationship… oop..)
People with Uranus conjunct Venus are soooo fun. Being around them can never bore you they’re so unpredictable and always down to do something wild. Very magnetic placement as well a lot of people are drawn to them. Can struggle however with short term relationships, it starts off very electrifying and exciting then dies down after a while.
Venus in Taurus natives really appreciate gifts from their loved ones. They love when you remember something they mentioned once and get it for them. Gift giving is a big love language of theirs.
Venus in the 2nd house people have the most SEXY VOICE. Like ughhhh. Big sweet talkers. A lot of people compliment your voice. Also I’ve seen a lot that had such a beautiful face & amazingly clear skin (makes sense Venus is in her home in the 2nd house). A lot of men will spend money on you randomly because of how pretty you are. These people have more luck finding a sugar daddy or a very wealthy partner.
Saturn in the 5th house synastry can make it uncomfortable for you guys to be intimate and flirty with eachother. It can feel really awkward when they attempt to flirt and be lovey with eachother. This placement in synastry with someone is such a deal breaker for me😭.
People with Saturn in Aries can be insecure about being the last one to finish or feeling more behind than others. They can have a problem with acting on their desires due to insecurity and feel like others are doing more than them. Can take them awhile to gain confidence to just go for what they want. Can have a fear of failure.
7th house Venus’s can be obsessed with the idea of weddings. Could’ve been planning their dream wedding since they were a little kid.
Pluto in the 5th house people are so jealous in a relationship. They also like when their partner is jealous/possessive over them.
Libra in the 5th house people take FOREVER to get ready lol. They always gotta look their best even if they aren’t going anywhere fancy. They can also be the types that like to wear matching outfits & costumes with their partners. Can be serial daters & very flirty with others (even when in a relationship).
Saturn in the 5th house natives are literally allergic to fun. (Sorry to those who have this placement, but please loosen up a little bit lol). These people are definitely the first to leave any party or leave early haha. Letting “loose” can feel very awkward to them or could feel like they’re being “weird” for being goofy. They can also have a pretty dry sense of humor as well. Usually really talented but is afraid to express it.
Taurus moon usually choose comfort clothes over fashionable clothes (not saying they can’t dress but they definitely prefer hoodies & sweat pants over skinny jeans & tight clothing).
Mc trine/conjunct/sextile Venus can get you hired in jobs just for being pretty. I’ve seen so many people with this placement get promoted and hired with very little experience because of how charming & attractive they come off. Can be very likable in the workplace. (Especially with the trine placement).
If you have a Pluto/Scorpio in the 10th house keep your goals a secret!!! A lot of people can hate on you and speak negativity in your plans because they are jealous. This placement can attract people that want to see you fail or not go too far ahead of them because they sense your power & intelligence.
Jupiter trine ascendant can bless you with a very lucky life/joyful life and personality. Can also bless you with amazing health & a healthy body. You guys are master manifestors. This placement is chefs kiss.
Sun in the 10th house can indicate that you had a father that could’ve been really hard on you & focused heavily on being successful over your emotions. Only focused on you when you were achieving something great. Father could’ve been a workaholic.
You are usually really attracted to people whose ascendant conjunction your Venus sign. Can be viewed as being “your type”.
People with a lot of 6th house placements I notice tend to be more likely to have an iron deficiency.
Venus in Pisces men are either super romantic & dreamy or completely clueless in terms of romance.
Jupiter in Libra can be a big beauty indicator. A lot of beautiful people have this placement. (Example; Adriana Lima).
Fun activity: if you can choose what your big three is what would you choose? Comment down below 🥰 thought it’d be fun to see everyone’s different answers.
When your friends dare you to test Fred Weasley’s jealousy, you find yourself in a series of increasingly bold outfits - from short skirts to scandalous dresses - only to be met with maddeningly calm reactions. While your friends are convinced Fred is simply unshakable, you can’t help but wonder if he even notices at all. But when your frustration finally boils over, Fred proves he’s been watching the whole time - with a smirk, a kiss, and a line that melts you completely.
———————————————————————
The Gryffindor common room had a way of feeling like its own little world once curfew had passed. The fire crackled lazily in the hearth, painting the stone walls gold and crimson, and the usual bustle of voices had dwindled into the softer hum of laughter and whispers. You, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia had taken over the best corner with a fortress of blankets and pillows, mugs of cocoa half-drained and biscuits scattered on a plate between you.
It was one of those nights when the girls talked about everything - Quidditch, professors, homework, and most importantly, boyfriends.
Katie had just finished recounting her latest disaster. “I swear, he actually glared at me in Zonko’s for wearing my skirt. Said it was ‘too short.’ Can you believe that? Like it’s my fault his eyes nearly fell out of his head.”
Angelina groaned. “Boys and their fragile egos. George gets twitchy if another bloke so much as looks at me in the hallway.”
“I thought you liked that,” you teased.
Angelina smirked. “Well, sometimes.”
The laughter rippled around the circle, warming the space almost as much as the fire. Alicia tucked her legs under her blanket and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Mine hated that sleeveless top I wore in Hogsmeade. Said I looked ‘too much’ for a lunch date. Like, excuse me, what does that even mean?”
It turned into a chorus of complaints - possessive comments, jealous sulking, ridiculous rules - and then, almost in unison, their gazes swiveled to you.
“Well?” Katie demanded, her smirk positively wicked. “What about Fred? Surely he’s thrown a fit once or twice.”
You blinked. “Fred?”
“Yes, Fred,” Angelina said with mock exasperation, tossing a pillow at you. “Tall, red hair, constant troublemaker, kisses you like you’re the only person in the castle…ringing any bells?”
You rolled your eyes, hugging the pillow to your chest. “I know who Fred is, thank you very much. But no. He’s never said anything.”
Alicia’s brow shot up. “Never?”
“Not once.” You shrugged like it was obvious, but your cheeks warmed under their scrutiny. “Fred doesn’t care what I wear. He’s…Fred. He’s usually too busy planning how to explode dungbombs in Filch’s office to worry about whether my jumper has a low enough neckline.”
“As if,” Katie scoffed. “Boys are always weird about it at some point.”
“Not him,” you insisted.
Angelina narrowed her eyes, that mischievous spark lighting in them. “Maybe it’s because you don’t wear anything he’d notice.”
You gasped. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on,” Alicia laughed. “You’re hardly parading around in scandalous outfits.”
You threw your pillow at her. “I do too!”
“Not really,” Katie sing-songed, grinning.
You were spluttering for a comeback when Angelina leaned forward, smirk turning downright devilish. “Alright, then. Prove it. Wear something a little…naughty, tomorrow. See what Fred does.”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”
“Deadly serious,” Katie said, her eyes sparkling. “We’re making this an experiment.”
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Alicia chimed in, clapping her hands together.
“Absolutely not,” you said flatly, trying to bury your burning face in your pillow.
“Yes,” Angelina countered, already buzzing with excitement. “Think of it as…research. For science.”
“Science?” you echoed, incredulous.
“Mm-hm,” she said, utterly serious. “The science of male idiocy. We need to know if Fred is some rare exception to the jealousy rule or if he’s just very, very good at hiding it.”
The chorus of agreement rose around you, their voices overlapping until you groaned.
“Please, you lot are ridiculous—”
“Please?” Katie clasped her hands together dramatically. “Do it for us. Do it for womankind.”
“For womankind?” you repeated, laughing despite yourself.
“Yes,” Angelina said solemnly. “Besides, you’ve already got the perfect test subject. He’s besotted with you, which makes him ideal.”
Your cheeks warmed at the word besotted, though you tried to hide it behind another groan. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Alicia said.
Angelina grinned triumphantly. “So it’s settled, then. Tomorrow, you wear something short. Skirt, dress, doesn’t matter. See what happens.”
You buried your face in your pillow and muffled, “I hate you all.”
Their laughter rang through the common room, bright and victorious, and you knew - even as you sat there swearing up and down you wouldn’t do it - that you were already doomed to cave.
———————————————————————
The next morning, you sat on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands, glaring at the traitorous garment lying across your knees. A skirt. A short one.
Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were sprawled dramatically across the other beds, watching you like a panel of judges.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered.
“You agreed,” Angelina sing-songed.
“You forced me!”
“We encouraged you,” Alicia corrected sweetly, propping her chin on her hand. “There’s a difference.”
Katie grinned. “Oh, this is going to be brilliant. I want front-row seats to Fred’s meltdown.”
“There won’t be a meltdown because nothing is going to happen,” you said firmly, but the way your stomach squirmed as you stood and pulled the skirt into place betrayed your nerves.
It was shorter than you usually wore - just grazing your mid-thigh - and paired with a slouchy jumper, you felt both ridiculous and exposed. You smoothed your hands down the fabric, cheeks hot. “I look stupid.”
Angelina sat up and whistled. “You look hot. Fred’s going to trip over his own feet.”
Your pulse jumped.
The common room was buzzing with early risers when you descended the stairs. Fred was leaning against the back of the sofa, head thrown back in laughter at something George was saying, that familiar freckled grin lighting up his whole face.
You swallowed hard.
“Alright,” you whispered to yourself. “Here goes nothing.”
Fred spotted you almost instantly, grin widening as he pushed off the sofa and came striding toward you. His long legs made it impossible to escape, and before you could even brace yourself, he swooped in and pressed a warm kiss to your cheek.
“Morning, love,” he said brightly, arm looping around your shoulders. He smelled faintly of cinnamon and sugar, like always.
You braced for the comment - for the frown, the teasing, something - but instead, he launched right into a story.
“So George and I were in Zonko’s yesterday, and wait ‘til you hear this! We’ve finally cracked the spell formula for the trick wands. Oh, you’re going to love it—”
And that was it.
He didn’t look twice at your legs. Didn’t even blink. His arm around you was easy and comfortable, and his laugh was so carefree it made you want to scream. By the time you reached the Great Hall for breakfast, you were seething quietly.
That night, you reported back to the girls, sprawled across your blanket fort once more.
“Nothing?” Katie asked, incredulous.
“Not a word?” Alicia echoed, eyes wide.
You shook your head miserably. “Not a single bloody thing. He just told me about joke wands for ten minutes.”
Angelina groaned and flopped back on her pillow. “He’s either completely blind or completely unfazed. And I don’t know which one is worse.”
Katie narrowed her eyes, determination sparking. “Alright. Time to up the stakes.”
You groaned into your pillow. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”
Alicia’s grin spread. “Skirt didn’t do it? Next time…jeans. Tight ones. And a top to match.”
The girls giggled, already plotting, and you couldn’t help but feel the creeping dread in your stomach.
Because if Fred really didn’t care what you wore…what did that mean?
———————————————————————
By the time the next Hogsmeade trip rolled around, you were regretting everything.
Katie had all but shoved the outfit into your arms. Tight, low-rise jeans that clung to your hips in a way that made you blush just looking at them, and a snug, low-cut top that left very little to imagination.
“I can’t wear this in public,” you hissed, staring at yourself in the mirror of the girls’ dorm.
Angelina leaned against the bedpost with her arms crossed, smirk firmly in place. “Yes, you can. And you will. Because this is science.”
“For womankind,” Alicia added solemnly, which made Katie snort.
You groaned and covered your face with your hands, but five minutes later you found yourself tugging your cloak around your shoulders and heading down the stairs, praying the ground would open up and swallow you.
Fred was waiting for you in the common room, hair still damp from a shower, grinning wide the moment he saw you.
“There she is,” he said, bounding over. His eyes flicked down instinctively as you reached him - just for a split second - but you missed it, too busy tugging the hem of your top (which was riding up your stomach) back down.
“Ready?” you asked quickly, desperate to deflect.
“More than ready,” he said easily, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you walked toward the portrait hole. His hand slid down to your waist as you moved through the crowded staircase, fingers pressing just a little firmer when a group of boys shoved past.
Your heart stuttered, but you chalked it up to Fred being Fred - always casual with touch, always without thinking twice.
By the time you reached Honeydukes, he was still his usual self. Joking, laughing, buying you your favorite sweets like he always did. Not a single comment about the outfit. Not even a raised brow.
At one point, as you leaned over the counter to inspect a jar of Fizzing Whizzbees, Fred’s gaze lingered, jaw tightening briefly before he looked away. But you didn’t see.
“Alright,” he said later, as you strolled back up toward the castle with bags of sweets swinging from your hands. “Now be honest. Between you and me, do you reckon George could pull off selling Canary Creams at Slughorn’s dinner party?”
You tripped on a step. “What? Fred, I…are you seriously thinking about pranking Slughorn right now?”
He grinned, utterly unbothered. “Always thinking about pranking Slughorn.”
You gaped at him, exasperated, and that was the moment you knew.
He really didn’t care.
Back in the dorm later that night, the girls were waiting like vultures.
“So?” Katie demanded, practically bouncing on her bed.
“Spill,” Alicia added.
You collapsed onto your pillow with a dramatic groan. “Nothing.”
Angelina sat up so fast her blanket fell to the floor. “Nothing? You were practically falling out of that top.”
“Tell me about it,” you muttered, cheeks heating.
“Unbelievable,” Alicia said, flopping back against her cushions.
Katie narrowed her eyes, wicked grin spreading. “Alright then. If the skirt didn’t work, and the top didn’t work…there’s only one thing left.”
You raised a wary brow. “…What?”
“The LBD,” Angelina said with a flourish, as if the three letters explained everything.
“The what now?” you asked.
They groaned in unison.
“Little. Black. Dress,” Alicia said slowly, as though speaking to a child.
You blinked. “That’s a thing?”
Katie threw a pillow at your head. “Of course it’s a thing! It’s the thing. The ultimate test. No man alive can ignore a girl in a little black dress.”
Angelina smirked, eyes gleaming. “And lucky for you…Gryffindor’s throwing a party next weekend.”
Your stomach dropped. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” they chorused.
———————————————————————
The dormitory was a war zone of fabric.
Angelina had practically raided her trunk, Alicia had added jewelry to the pile, and Katie was sitting cross-legged on your bed holding up a pair of knee-high boots like they were sacred relics.
“This is ridiculous,” you muttered for the hundredth time, glaring at the dress laid out in front of you. Black. Tight. The neckline plunged lower than you’d ever dared. The hemline…well, calling it “modest” would’ve been a straight up lie.
Angelina grinned like a cat. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s indecent,” you shot back.
“It’s science,” Alicia countered with what had become their tagline.
“For womankind,” Katie cheered dramatically.
You groaned into your hands, but twenty minutes later, there you were in front of the mirror. Dress on, boots hugging your thighs, hair tamed just enough to look intentional. Your reflection stared back, wide-eyed and flushed.
“You look…” Angelina tilted her head. “…dangerous.”
“Like a heart attack waiting to happen,” Alicia added approvingly.
Katie wiggled her brows. “Fred’s not going to survive the night.”
The common room was already pulsing with music and laughter by the time you descended the stairs. Red and gold banners hung from the ceiling, butterbeer bottles clinked, and students filled every corner.
But the moment you stepped into view, the air shifted. Heads turned. Conversations stuttered. A whistle cut through the noise.
Your face burned. You kept your chin high, forcing yourself to stride through the crowd until your eyes found the only person you cared about.
Fred.
He was across the room, laughing with George, a butterbeer in hand. But then his gaze landed on you.
For a fraction of a second, his grin slipped. His eyes darkened, flicking down your figure with a heat that made your knees wobble. His hand tightened around the neck of the bottle.
Then, just as quickly, the easy smile returned. He passed the drink to George, wove through the crowd with that infuriatingly confident stride, and slipped an arm around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“There you are,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Come dance with me.”
No comment. No raised brow. Nothing.
On the dance floor, his hand stayed firm at your waist, thumb brushing slow circles against the fabric of your dress. Once, when a Ravenclaw boy’s gaze lingered a bit too long, Fred pulled you closer, his smirk sharpening. But he said nothing.
You felt your frustration boil under your skin. Didn’t he notice? Didn’t he care?
By the time the party had started to wind down, you couldn’t take it anymore.
You tugged Fred toward the stairs, heart pounding. He followed easily, brows lifting in amusement. “What’s this then? Sneaking me away for a midnight snog?”
You whirled on him, arms crossed, trying to mask the twist in your chest. “Why don’t you care what I wear?”
He blinked, caught off guard. “…What?”
“The skirt. The jeans. This dress! I’ve tried everything. And you don’t even blink!” Your voice cracked, equal parts embarrassment and anger. “Everyone else’s boyfriends get jealous or at least say something, but you—”
Fred’s smirk curved, slow and dangerous, as if the pieces had finally clicked. He stepped closer, gaze fixed on yours.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” His voice was low, teasing but warm.
You faltered. “Well, you don’t act like it.”
“That’s because,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your temple before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “you can wear whatever you want, baby. I can protect what’s mine.”
The words sank into you like honey, melting every knot of frustration until your knees felt weak.
When he pulled back, that cocky grin was in place again, but softer now. Tender.
From across the room, the girls - watching unabashedly from their blanket pile - sighed in perfect unison.
And then he kissed you, properly this time, leaving no room for doubt at all.
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the tower windows, warming the common room in a way that felt almost cruel after last night’s chaos. Empty bottles and crumpled banners littered the floor, evidence of a Gryffindor party well-celebrated.
You shuffled into the girls’ corner still in your pajamas, hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep. But the second you sat down, three sets of eyes locked on you like you were a mouse cornered by kneazles.
“Well?” Katie demanded.
You buried your face in your pillow. “Don’t start.”
“Don’t start?” Alicia gasped, clutching her blanket dramatically. “You basically set the bar for dramatic boyfriend declarations. Protect what’s mine? Merlin’s beard, we nearly fainted.”
Angelina was already grinning like she’d won a bet. “I knew it. I knew he was holding out on us. That boy’s got steel nerves. He noticed from the start.”
You peeked out from behind your pillow, cheeks hot. “He…he really didn’t say anything, though. Until I practically started a fight.”
Katie flopped back on her bed with a sigh. “Because he’s Fred. The man thrives on winding people up. He probably loved every second of watching you spiral.”
“Ugh,” you groaned, but there was no real bite in it. Because they were right. Fred had loved it. You’d seen it in his smirk, in the way his eyes danced when you finally cracked.
Alicia leaned forward, smirking. “So? Be honest. Did the line make you melt?”
You threw your pillow at her. “Shut up.”
Angelina caught it before it hit, tossing it back at you with a cackle. “She melted. Absolutely puddled.”
Katie sighed dreamily, hugging her knees. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. If my boyfriend ever said that to me, I’d swoon on the spot.”
You groaned again, flopping back dramatically against the cushions. “He’s insufferable.”
“Insufferable,” Angelina agreed, smirk tugging at her lips. “And absolutely perfect for you.”
Across the common room, Fred lounged with George near the fire, pretending not to listen but clearly tuned in, his ears just a little too pink to be casual. When your eyes met his, he sent you a shameless wink, mouthing, Told you so.
Your stomach flipped, traitorous and warm, and despite yourself, a smile tugged at your lips.
Because damn it all…the girls were right. He was insufferable. And he was yours.
Pairing: Jaemin x reader
Description: If there was one thing Na Jaemin was known for, it was being a fuckboy with no interest in commitment. If there was one thing you knew him for, it was being your best friend…and long-time crush. When his group of guy friends gets tired of the roster Jaemin seems to be running through, they propose a deal - they’d each give him $100 if he could settle down with one girl for at least three months. But that was easy money to Jaemin. After all, he could just fake-date you.
Content warnings: swearing, talk about sex, mentions/consumption of alcohol, a panic attack (not the reader), one punch gets thrown, reader has a somewhat bad relationship with her parents, their obliviousness to the other’s feelings makes you want to slam your head against a wall, some angst but it’s mainly through unaddressed fluff. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything.
Word count: 31,947
A/n: I didn’t know I could write this much, but after making my smau, I was ITCHING for written work ahahahhahahahaha. Please enjoy, though who am I to tell you what to do…as always, feedback would be greatly appreciated. I love you :) also because I must tag @fullsunstrawberry in everything I do...here you go - I love you the mostest!
Read the epilogue here!
The semester was in full swing for just over a month, and Haechan was already tired of the amount of girls Jaemin had brought over to their apartment. The first two years of university cemented Jaemin’s image as resident fuckboy, but no one cared about the fact that they couldn’t keep him for more than a night because he was hot enough to make the one night worth it. Similarly, Jaemin couldn’t care less about being labeled a fuckboy - at the end of the day, all it meant was that he was able to get his dick wet with no added pressure from the expectation to ever commit; the concept seemed like heaven to him.
However, the start of junior year had his best friends thinking it was time for a change. As Jaemin sat down in one of their usual cafés for lunch, all eyes were on him. “Alright, Jaemin, we figure you’ve had your fun for the past two years now,” Chenle said with a gleam in his eyes.
“Too much fun…” Haechan adds under his breath.
Jaemin looked around at the group with furrowed brows. “Whatever is going on, can we stop it and just have our coffee and sandwiches like normal? Why am I being targeted for the amount of fun I’m having? You’ve all had your fair share of fun, too.”
Jeno let out a small laugh at Jaemin’s defense. “Yeah, but we aren’t nicknamed the campus fuckboy. Plus, we’ve all been in actual relationships during our time in college.”
Jaemin’s face drops, no longer interested at all in the conversation they were clearly wanting to have. “I could be in a relationship if I wanted to be, I just don’t want to,” he’s quick to mutter in reply.
“Why not?” Renjun asks, raising his eyebrows in wait.
Jaemin lets out a scoff. “All that love and commitment is stupid. You guys put so much effort into your previous relationships and yet, we’re all currently sitting at this table single. There’s no one who makes me want to even try being in a relationship. Why would I want to risk wasting all that effort on someone?”
His six best friends eyed each other around the table, either not buying it or not caring. “Look man,” Mark starts, getting Jaemin to turn his attention over to him. “Regardless of how you feel about love, Haechan is tired of listening to you and whatever girl you bring home that night…and he’s especially tired of it always being a different girl to walk in on him while he’s singing in the kitchen making breakfast. So, to maybe help him out, and also to test your ability because honestly, I don’t know if any of us think you’re capable…in the nicest way possible, of course. We wanna propose a bet- or a deal is probably the better word for it.” Jaemin shoots his gaze over to the rest of them, but no one bore a look of amusement, they were all curiously locked in. “If you can get a girlfriend and settle down for at least three months, we’ll give you $600.”
Well originally, Jaemin had no interest in any part of this, but if everything worked out the way his brain was planning it, that $600 could potentially be easy cash…not to mention a lot of it.
“I’m in,” he pipes up immediately, truthfully stunning his best friends at the table. Nevertheless, they all shake on it, and then Jaemin only has one thing to do…after finishing his coffee and sandwich, of course.
One day later, you get a text from Jaemin. Free to catch up today? Your cheeks blush warmly at the message. It wasn’t anything special, but after being glued to each other’s sides during high school, college saw you and Jaemin having considerably less time for each other; so it was always nice to see you were still a thought in his mind because truly, you missed your best friend like no other.
Free to catch up everyday :)) You respond, and Jaemin’s reply comes instantaneously.
Perfect ;) meet you at the café in two hours
You check the clock before mapping out how you would spend all your time in between now and then, quickly deciding most of it should be directed towards making yourself look presentable, seeing as you’ve done nothing but rot in bed all morning.
Fast forward two hours and you were already sitting at one of the café tables when the bell rang as Jaemin walked through the door. He scans the inside before his eyes find you and he lights up. “Hi, best friend!” He says overenthusiastically as he pulls out the chair across from you. You furrow your brows at his tone, not to mention his usage of ‘best friend,’ when you think you remember Jaemin calling you that only once before when you were both still in high school, and had since never labeled you like that again - not that it was an incorrect label, but one that he typically didn’t make a huge deal about unless…
“Oh, god,” you start sarcastically. “What mess did you get yourself into now?”
“Hey!” Jaemin shoots back in mock hurt, moving a hand over his heart as if you’ve just shot him. You let out a light laugh, rolling your eyes.
“Sorry, Jaem, please continue.”
He immediately ducks his head to face his lap, his tone bearing a fraction of the force it previously had. “Okay so, I got myself into a mess.” You can’t help the genuine laugh that escapes you as you shake your head. Jaemin whips his head up to face you in response, but as you manage to stop your laughter, all you can do is meet his gaze with a softness in your eyes that perfectly balanced the playful smirk on your lips.
“I’ve missed you a lot, you know,” you respond, and Jaemin rolls his lips inward to try and stop the smile as he directs his gaze somewhere off to the side.
“Yeah, hoping you’re still thinking that after I explain,” he replies hesitantly, and your face falls in an instant.
“You got me into a mess?!” You ask in disbelief, and Jaemin lets out a light sigh.
“Not yet, but that’s kind of the goal,” he answers, scrunching up his facial features as he waits for your reprimanding. Though it never comes, and instead, you speak plainly through a sigh.
“An explanation needs to come out of your mouth in three, two-”
Jaemin curls himself into a ball as best he can while sitting in the café chair, wanting some kind of physical defense before explaining himself in a rush. “I need us to fake date for three months so can you please please please be my fake girlfriend?” When he doesn’t get coffee thrown at him, he takes a moment to unfurl himself and look over at you again, his gaze met with your indifferent expression.
“Why?” You ask neutrally, and it seems to finally hit Jaemin that you were still the same sane, comforting presence you always had been, even if the two of you hadn’t properly hung out in over a year. He settles more decidedly into his chair, though he still frames his words through a lens of embarrassment, figuring that might be the best way to get you to agree - if you knew he knew he was stupid.
“$600 and to prove something to my friends,” he replies, his words light but his demeanor dead serious.
“And why me?” You toss back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes as he throws his gaze off to the side again with a scoff.
“Cause every other girl I know has a crush on me and it’d make this very weird. I’m not trying to actually be in a relationship. That’s the last thing I want.” His words this time are firm enough to match his demeanor, and it has you taking a sip of your coffee to fight back the awkwardness you would’ve otherwise choked on.
“...Right,” you say in agreement, because out of all the times you could come clean about your huge crush on your best friend, right after he tells you that he doesn’t want a relationship is probably the worst time to do so.
“So?” Jaemin inquires hopefully, snapping you out of your thoughts. You flick your gaze up to him before immediately darting it back to your coffee on the table, one of your hands messing with the straw absentmindedly. Then you give in, because you suck at saying ‘no’ to your best friend.
“...Fine, but then we’re making a contract,” you say plainly, swirling the ice around in your americano. Jaemin lets out something like a laugh, shaking his head.
“Y/n, you’re taking this so seriously-” He starts, but you whip your head back up to him in an instant, cutting him off with sincerity.
“They’ll see right through it if we don’t,” you state, and you watch Jaemin’s adam's apple bob up and down in his throat as he swallows awkwardly.
He shakes out of it before putting his hands up in defeat. “Okay, whatever. Go ahead,” he replies, disinterested. You roll your eyes, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from your backpack. Then you get to writing, because you were gonna need to set some intense boundaries if you were hoping to make it out of this alive.
“Alright, I think this should be good for right now,” you say after a few minutes, sliding the piece of paper his way. He takes one glance at it before letting out a laugh and directing his gaze back to you with raised brows.
“‘No kissing?’ I don’t mean to alarm you, but that’s actually the quickest way for them to see right through it,” he quips. You run your fingers through your hair awkwardly as you dodge his gaze, finally nodding your head with a sigh.
“Okay fine, we can change it. No kissing unless they bring it up or get suspicious. Good?” You ask, finally looking up at him again. He lets an amused smile paint its way across his lips as he stares at you across the table.
“Ha, we’ll keep it for now,” he agrees before turning his attention back to the paper and looking over the next thing you wrote. “‘No weird nicknames?’” He reads, popping his head back up to look at you for clarification. You roll your eyes, slightly embarrassed.
“Yeah, like sugar, pumpkin, honey, buttercup, sweetie, sweetheart, cutie pie, baby, babe, darling-” You’re cut off by a genuine laugh from Jaemin, helping you realize you’ve missed the sound of it a lot, and not at all helping the awkward situation you’ve gotten yourself into.
“Okay, you’re just naming every pet name imaginable,” he counters as though you were crazy.
You roll your lips inward, hesitating on how to respond before opting with a near-whisper. “I don’t like them,” you admit quietly, and Jaemin’s demeanor falls from playful to understanding. He opens his mouth to reply but closes it again before any words get out, instead taking another moment to think.
“They’re gonna expect me to call you something,” he finally says, speaking as though it were an apology.
You sigh, knowing he wasn’t lying. Idly messing with your hands, you reply quietly. “...are they gonna expect me to call you something, too?” You ask, and Jaemin contemplates with a sorry nod.
“Yeah, probably. Look, you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with, and if that’s just ‘Jaem,’ that’s fine.”
A more lenient answer than you were expecting, you shoot your head up to look back at him again, though your brows slightly furrow as you address the part he didn’t. “What about you?”
Jaemin lets out a soft sigh. “How about I just limit my usage of pet names, and I won’t call you anything food-related,” he suggests lightly, figuring those nicknames having made up your first seven examples meant you hated them the most. You roll your eyes but a smile crosses your face regardless because he was right, after all…and caring enough to actually realize that.
“I can live with that,” you relent, and a big grin comes back onto Jaemin’s face at the progress. He moves his attention back towards the contract, but immediately is whipping his gaze back to you in hurt.
“Why can’t I be the one to break it off?” He pouts, and you have half a mind to laugh, but you know he’s serious.
“If you date me for exactly three months and then break up with me, no matter how believable we make it, they’re either going to know it was set up or they’re going to assume you learned nothing and probably not give you the money,” you explain, and Jaemin’s pout turns into an impressed nod.
“You have a point…” He breathes out, causing you to smirk.
“I know.”
He bites on his bottom lip, deep in thought before turning back to you again. “We probably shouldn’t date for exactly three months then, either,” he adds, and you flash your eyebrows in recognition.
“That’s also true,” you say before putting together a calendar in your head. “Well, if today’s September 27th, three months is December 27th, so…we could have New Year’s Eve be our last night together?” You suggest awkwardly. Though, when you look back up towards Jaemin, he’s putting your timeline together with a nod.
“Works for me,” he cedes, scribbling your end date somewhere off to the side before continuing to scan down the list. His next question comes with the very last bullet point on the contract. “‘Come home with me for Christmas dinner?’” He reads before looking up at you in confusion. You shake your head with a laugh.
“Well, you didn’t think I’d do this for nothing in return, did you?”
Jaemin flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “Okay…so why Christmas dinner?” He asks, and you drop your gaze back to your coffee.
“My family keeps riding my ass about not having a boyfriend. If you come back with me and pretend to be my boyfriend there, too, then even when we end things, they’ll at least be off my case for a while,” you admit, embarrassment tainting your voice before you rush to make the request sound more appealing. “And it’s not actual Christmas dinner! It’s that first weekend after finals week. You remember the big dinner we always had with other family friends and all that,” you drag off with an awkward laugh.
“Okay,” Jaemin agrees immediately, and you look back up at him in shock.
“Really? You’re agreeing to that?” You question, but he just shrugs his shoulders.
“Y/n, you’re getting me $600, the least I can do is one dinner with your family. Besides, they’re practically my second set of parents. I’m pretty sure I had at least a hundred dinners with them during high school,” he jokes, and the tension in your shoulders falls. You guys were really doing this…all of this. The two of you left the café and parted ways soon after agreeing to the terms of the contract, Jaemin feeling $600 richer already with how easy this was going to be.
Jaemin picked you up from class on the first day you would be meeting his friends, five days after the two of you signed your contract to fake-date. He greets you with an easy smile outside of your classroom door. “Hey, you ready?” He asks, and you send a nervous smile back up at him.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” you reply with a laugh. He flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement, feeling much the same way seeing as this was probably the least conventional thing he’s ever done.
He leads you outside and towards the guys’ regular lunch spot at one of the tables set up in the campus commons. Jaemin had told his friends beforehand that he had gone and gotten himself a girlfriend and thus, to start the three month timer, and they were the ones who begged him to bring you to one of the lunches so they could meet you, and now here you were - walking casually towards the lunch table with Jaemin…too casually, Chenle noticed, because you weren’t even holding hands. He keeps quiet, but lets an easy smirk come across his face as you and Jaemin sit down next to each other.
“Alright, guys,” Jaemin starts as the rest of the friend group pins their full attention on you. “This is y/n. My girlfriend,” he says with a smile. The label sends ice through your veins. You could not believe Na Jaemin was introducing you as his girlfriend…it didn’t matter that the label was fake, the words sounded real coming out of his mouth. You turn your head to look at him, as if to get some kind of confirmation that it really was Jaemin next to you, calling you his girlfriend. By the time your gaze reaches him, he’s already looking over at you with a cheesy grin, nudging your side playfully with his arm and getting you to relax a little.
The guys go around introducing themselves, but as they make their full way around the table, Jeno immediately speaks up.
“So, how did the two of you get together?” He asks curiously. A valid question, which is why the guys all lean forward in interest, because of course they would be dying to know how their fuckboy best friend got an actual girlfriend rather than a hookup. It was a horrible question though, because it was one you forgot would ever come up, and you had no game plan to go about answering this. Though, it seemed all you had to worry about was keeping your eyes from going wide, because Jaemin did have a game plan for this, and he answered smoothly.
“I just asked her out,” he says with a shrug. “It’s always been so easy with y/n, I take it for granted most of the time. Every time I’m with her, I’m reminded that it takes no effort to breathe, that I’m standing on solid ground. We met up for coffee the other day and she said she missed me and I-” He falters for a moment, and you finally bring your gaze up from your lap to face Jaemin, just to see him shake his head as if he were breaking himself out of a nostalgia trip. “I wanted to hear that again and again,” he finally says seriously, and you can’t stop the smile from reaching your face. “So, though now it just sounds embarrassing saying it out loud, I straight up asked her to be my girlfriend right after that,” he adds through a laugh. “I had been waiting for the butterflies that everyone always talks about, but the fact that I’ve never really felt that with her just made me more sure I wanna be with her - there’s no discomfort or anxiety,” he says, and with your head ducked back in to face your lap, you miss it when he turns to look at you softly. “She’s just always felt like home.”
Jaemin’s answer seems to have done its job in convincing everyone, and it definitely did its job in reminding you that you were in deep trouble. Though, as the rest of the guys take in Jaemin’s words with an impressed nod, Mark tries to fill in his holes. “Wait, how long have you known each other?” He asks, which was another valid question seeing as Jaemin talked about you with history even though you had never met his friend group before.
“We’ve been friends since high school,” Jaemin says coolly, though this time, you’re the one to nudge him with a laugh.
“Best friends,” you add teasingly, and Jaemin chuckles as he looks over at your figure before nodding his head.
“Yeah, best friends,” he agrees fondly. “But, I’ve liked her for a while now,” he says, turning back towards the group as his face falls and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I just- obviously have the image that I do and I never wanted to get her tied up in it. She deserves more than being labeled as some fuckboy’s latest infatuation,” he says, and as you furrow your brows at him, he just shakes his head, moving on with a light smile. “Though, obviously, I saw her last week and couldn’t help it anymore.”
Sorry smiles cross most of the guys’ faces - they were no help when it came to keeping labels away from Jaemin, and he was sure putting on a convincing show, making it almost seem like it was their fault the two of you hadn’t already gotten together.
Haechan swings his gaze over to you with raised eyebrows, shifting gears to try and not to let the dampened mood actually settle in. “And you? How long have you liked him?” He asks, and you have to stop the laugh from leaving your system. Instead, you just shake your head fondly.
“Forever,” you answer truthfully, turning to face Jaemin before immediately pulling your gaze back down to your lap in embarrassment. “Any girl will tell you, it’s impossible not to fall for Na Jaemin.” At this, all the guys roll their eyes, but Jaemin just turns to study you softly, biting on his bottom lip in contemplation as he tries to sort out whether any part of your statement was true or if you were just really good at acting.
However, with the rumbling of Jisung’s stomach, he quickly discards the topic of you and Jaemin, deciding that after all the intro questions were out of the way, food was much more interesting. The guys laugh along as Jisung rips through his paper bag lunch, but it does its job in getting them to focus on their own food in front of them, too.
Casual conversation occurred over lunch, and you were pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t awkward at all. Not that you were expecting the guys to be awkward with each other, but you typically weren’t great at meeting new people; and now you were meeting six of them at once, somehow fitting right in, your occasional remarks causing the whole table to laugh - something you’d have to pat yourself on the back for later. The only disturbance comes from Chenle, who had begun leaning way back from the table, carefully balancing his weight on the bench as he seems to examine the ground by your feet.
The entire friend group eventually catches on to his antics, turning their attention towards him with raised eyebrows. “What are you doing?” Renjun finally asks, the question coming out as though he thought Chenle were crazy…which probably wasn’t too far from his actual stance on the matter.
Chenle shakes his head, pulling himself back into a normal sitting position as he locks his gaze onto you and Jaemin. “Don’t most couples have a hand placed on the other’s thigh or something while sitting? Why are you guys like- a foot away from each other?” He asks plainly. Your face drops and your eyes widen.
“We are not a foot away from each other,” you remark firmly, but then Jisung peaks beneath the table as well, pulling back up with a shrug.
“Uh, you kinda are,” he says, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes.
“Didn’t think you guys were big pda enthusiasts,” he says, trying to laugh it off, but Chenle is relentless.
“Have you kissed yet?” He asks immediately, and you almost choke.
“What?!” You return in shock, but Chenle looks between the two of you with uninterested brows.
“You’ve liked each other for forever and you’re this awkward?” He shoots back in a taunt. You sigh, collecting yourself because you knew what you were about to have to do.
“You’re right, Jaem,” you say, pulling his attention your way as you place a hand on his cheek and smile in disbelief. “Your friends are annoying,” you continue, and then you lean in and kiss your best friend and long time crush.
Admittedly, you’ve imagined this moment more times than you could count, but none of those fantasies could have prepared you for what it actually felt like to kiss Na Jaemin. His lips were perfect, he was perfect, and you knew that already but now you felt it. You remind yourself of where you’re at, why you’re kissing him in the first place, and bring yourself to pull back after the one soft kiss, trying your best to make it seem as though that alone didn’t cause you to lose your breath.
As the two of you pull away from each other, Jaemin’s gaze locks on you, running over every inch of your face with an unreadable look in his eyes to contrast the softest of smiles on his lips. “Yeah, angel, they are,” he says through an exhale, and as your face goes completely pink, his smile eases into a familiar smirk. “But if you kiss me every time they piss you off, I might have to have them stick around.”
You roll your eyes, nudging him in the side again as you focus on the playful banter and not on the fact that Jaemin just rewired your brain chemistry with one ‘angel.’ “Whatever, we both know I kiss you all the time anyways,” you tease, but as you try to shift away again, Jaemin catches your hand in his and looks at you as if you were crazy.
“No, I kiss you all the time,” he rushes to correct, and though you whip your head back to face him in offense, your eyes instantly soften upon contact, a tight smile playing at both of your features instead.
Your only thought was to kiss him again, and you’re thankful when Chenle cuts off any chance of that happening. “What is going on?” He asks in disgust, causing Renjun to laugh and shake his head.
“Hey, you were the one jumping their asses for their lack of public romance. This is your fault.”
With the conclusion of lunch, Jaemin kept you company on the walk back to your dorm. As soon as you’re out of sight from the rest of the guys, you let out a heavy sigh and accompanying drop of your shoulders. “Well, there goes rule number one…” You say in defeat. If you couldn’t even follow the first rule during your first outing as a ‘couple,’ the rest of these three months were not going to bode well for you.
Instead of matching your demeanor, Jaemin takes offense. “What, no! We changed rule number one to no kissing unless they brought it up or were suspicious, and they both, brought it up and were suspicious,” he claims firmly, but the playful tone underlying his words makes it so that all you can do is let out a small, wry laugh.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you say with a shake of your head, though the smile has made its reappearance on your face. Next to you, Jaemin stops walking, pausing for a moment as he stares at the pavement beneath your feet. As soon as you notice his absence at your side, you turn back around to face him and his small grimace.
“Thank you, by the way,” he says gently, and any remaining tension you were carrying falls away; because any time Jaemin fell softer, you were reminded of how you’d do anything for your best friend. “I don’t know if I really thanked you for letting me talk you into this. I know it’s stupid, but it’s nice to have them attacking me for whether or not I’ve kissed you rather than attacking me for my body count,” he finishes, and it feels as though all your joints had immediately locked up again.
Jaemin’s title as the campus fuckboy was not lost on you, but talking about anything close to relationships was never a strong suit for you guys; and with him quickly finding his place within a new friend group here at college, it meant you were even less in the know of his whereabouts on any given day. The last thing you were expecting was for Jaemin to keep you updated on who he just fucked, but the entire realm of conversation was always so unreachable for you two. You knew nothing of what the campus fuckboy was truly getting up to; there was sometimes talk in your class when a girl would come in beaming as she told her friends she managed to spend a night with Jaemin, but instances like that were all you got informed by, and you never dared pry deeper into those overheard conversations.
Sometimes your jealousy would damn near kill you - all these girls boasting about the fact that they had spent a night with Jaemin…you wanted to turn around half the time and tell them to forget about one night because you’ve spent countless days with him; that your entire high school career was covered in his handprints and bright smile which you were sure was laced with drugs - a smile you knew he wasn’t throwing around in the bedroom.
You never did snap, though, because it was easier to keep your ‘best friend’ label with Jaemin under the radar at college, unless you wished for tens upon hundreds of girls to line up in front of you and ask your advice on how to win his heart. Jokes on them, you were still figuring that out, yourself.
“What is your body count?” You ask with a hesitant swallow, your curiosity getting the better of you now that he’s finally brought it up.
Jaemin shoots his head up to face you but instantly dodges your eye contact again. For the first time since you’ve met him, he looks genuinely embarrassed. “Another time, y/n,” he says in soft dismissal.
You swallow harshly, in disbelief at what you were about to tell him, but as much as it would sting, it would keep your own feelings at a very needed bay. “If you still want to have sex, you can. I don’t mean to force you into celibacy. Just make sure it’s at the girl’s house so Haechan doesn’t find out,” you say lowly, and Jaemin immediately makes wide eye contact with you.
“Really?” He asks in something like shock. You act as though it’s no big thing, and you’re sure it probably shouldn’t be, anyways.
“Yeah,” you respond with a shrug.
Jaemin takes in your words with a contemplative head nod, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before his eyes light up in alert, finding another caveat to address. “What do we do if the girl starts talking about the fact that she hooked up with me?” He asks seriously, but you’ve finally found humor in the situation, shaking your head as though there were hardly a need for the question.
“Jaem, just about every girl wants to sleep with you, or at least make it seem like she did…a random girl claiming to have hooked up with you one day is just going to sound like she’s desperate for attention. No one’s gonna take it seriously,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. Absolutely nothing you said was wrong, and with a deep breath, Jaemin seems to accept that fact.
As he exhales, he resumes his continuation on the walk back to your dorm, a light nod of his head accompanying his next words. “Okay. Thank you-” His casual start is broken as he turns his head back over to you at his side in question. “Are you gonna be okay? Are you gonna like- hook up- uh…with other guys?” He asks curiously. All you can do is laugh at him.
“Casual hookups aren’t my thing and no way am I getting an actual boyfriend while we’re doing this, but of course I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure your sex drive is at least ten times greater than mine. I can handle three months,” you reply lightly, and seemingly all of Jaemin’s worries about this new implementation fade away - it seemed perfectly doable without getting caught.
As you get to your dorm entrance, you and Jaemin turn to fully face each other. “Thanks again for today. I think we got them somewhat convinced,” he says through a small laugh, and you flash your eyebrows in acknowledgement.
“No reason to thank me for that - you did most of the talking,” you rebuttal playfully.
Jaemin’s laugh turns into a knowing smirk. “You were the one who kissed me,” he teases, and you shake your head, but a wide grin spreads across your lips, regardless.
“It's not my fault that they both, brought it up and were suspicious,” you remind him, putting your hands up in defense. Jaemin takes a moment to laugh again before settling into a more fond look that was reminiscent of your high school days.
“We’re gonna have to start hanging out more again since they think we’re dating, but even before all that, I think it’d make me happy if we started hanging out more again just cause I’ve missed you…and I know it’s my fault we haven’t talked as often! I got a friend group of guys and an- agenda…with girls, and as such, my entire college career up to now has unfolded in that way. But I miss you because you’ve always been my friend, not because of some agenda or fake-dating scheme.”
“Mmmmmm, best friend,” you correct with a sure smirk, making Jaemin drop his head with a laugh of defeat.
“Yeah, best friend,” he cedes, and your smirk turns into a soft smile.
“I never do anything, so just text me when you wanna hang. I’ll be there.”
He looks back up at you with a small grin and a nod. “Same goes for you,” he replies. Then, all that was left was saying ‘goodbye’ in a much more awkward way than usual, before you went back up to your room to decompress from whatever the hell just happened.
It was a week after that first lunch when you were alone and bored in your dorm. None of the guys mentioned anything about having plans for the weekend while at lunch, which you had begun to join in on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So, although you just saw him, you figured Jaemin wouldn’t have anything better to do than hang out with you some more today. You shoot your gaze over to the clock, agreeing there was more than enough time left in the day to make a hang out worth it, and then grabbing your phone to text Jaemin.
Hey, I’m bored. Wanna do something? You send, and Jaemin’s reply is instantaneous.
With a girl rn
For a text that’s letting you know he’s following your directions, it hurts more than you thought it would to read. You know it’s for the best that this be your reality. Jaemin had been your best friend for so long now, the last thing you wanted was to ruin that with your feelings; and while fake-dating wasn’t helping, this reality-check definitely did. He’s not just your best friend anymore, he’s the campus’ heartthrob…the campus’ fuckboy. It was the entire reason behind the bet his friends made in the first place - a circumstance like this was only expected. So, you’d have to forget about the hollow feeling in your stomach right now and instead support your best friend in a best friend way, cause no matter how many times in the next three months he’s destined to call you ‘angel’ or look over at you softly every time you talk in the group, ‘best friends’ is all you are to each other. Oh, look at you go! I figure I’m your alibi, so I guess I’ll stay in for the rest of the night so there’s no possibility of one of your friends seeing me
His reply this time took about thirty minutes to get to you, and even his last text didn’t prepare you for the brick wall that faced you with this one. Thanks
Jaemin isn’t selfish, Jaemin is busy. It’s the mantra you kept repeating to yourself, because you know he’s not selfish; and while you were expecting a reply more aligned with an apology for forcing your Friday night to be spent indoors and alone, taking the time to text that out probably was not something Jaemin could manage while another girl was surely sucking him off.
The next Thursday, it’s Jaemin’s idea to hang out after classes. The two of you decided to chill at your place so that you didn’t have to constantly pretend around Haechan, should he be in their apartment. As you swing the door open to Jaemin’s presence, he looks at you with a big grin on his face. “Hey, angel,” he says, patting the top of your head as he walks into your dorm. You track his figure deeper into the living area, looking at him quizzically because the whole purpose of him being here was that he didn’t have to call you ‘angel.’
You just shake your head with a smile as he plops down on your couch. “Hey, Jaem.”
He looks up at you with innocent eyes. “What did you want to do tonight?” He asks, and you shrug your shoulders with a laugh.
“You’re the one who wanted to come over; my plan was to do homework.” Your answer has Jaemin’s face falling, and you watch as he gets up from the couch and immediately walks out the door, leaving you completely dumbfounded. You didn’t think homework was that repulsive to him. Though, moments later, there’s another knock on your door, and you answer it to be met with Jaemin again, this time his own backpack slung across his shoulders. “Wha-?” You question with a laugh of disbelief.
Jaemin sends a smirk your way before once again walking past you and towards the couch, immediately unzipping his backpack and placing its contents on the coffee table. “Homework,” he says casually, looking up at you with raised brows and a smirk. “Best friend, fake girlfriend, study buddy…you get all the fun labels,” he teases, causing you to shake your head before relenting and joining him at the coffee table.
It was an incredibly normal night. After the two of you finished up the last of your assignments - though getting distracted every five or so minutes with stupid jokes, complaints of coursework, or a sudden remembering of a story that needed telling did not help push things along, the two of you watched a movie. You ended up making hot cocoa, because the privilege of thermostats meant that it wasn’t a crazy option, regardless of the outside temperature, and then sat on the recliner, Jaemin taking up considerably more space on the couch in response.
The two of you had always been good movie watchers with each other. You both liked to enjoy movies in the same way - the lights off, no talking, no distractions from phones…even if it was a movie you had seen a hundred times. The two of you took movie nights seriously, mainly because with each other, you could. At least, you had yet to find anyone else who would sit and watch Coraline with you and not take a break to say something about how they find it creepy or flatout don’t like the movie when it’s not even halfway over. Though, Jaemin always happily watched, saving his only comments (typically about how “they just don’t make movies like that anymore”) for the credits.
Just like that, it was like a night from high school, and it ended much the same way - a side hug with Jaemin and his promises of getting home safe, though it was you rather than your mother that he was making that promise to now.
Walking back into his apartment, Jaemin immediately catches the attention of Haechan, currently making late night ramen in the kitchen. “Did you just get back from y/n’s?” He asks, pulling his attention away from the stove to turn his head towards Jaemin.
“Yeah,” Jaemin answers casually as he makes his trek through the front space and towards his room, only getting distracted when Haechan speaks up again with a playful lilt and a matching smirk on his face.
“Good night?” He asks, causing Jaemin to furrow his brows before realizing what Haechan was actually getting at.
“What-? Oh, shut up,” he dismisses. Turning back around to face Haechan revealed him to be completely distracted from his ramen - his back now leaning against the countertop as his casual crossed arms added to the tease in his raised eyebrow. Jaemin rolls his eyes at the antics, especially considering Haechan was the main reason this whole deal was made in the first place - because he was tired of Jaemin having sex. “We didn’t have sex. We did normal couple things,” he states confidently before turning around again to actually make his way inside his room and behind his closed bedroom door.
This meant Jaemin missed the way Haechan’s playful brows furrowed in confusion, his face falling flatter as he spoke through a soft exhale. “What?” Any more time he could have had to actually question it was overridden with the need to tend to his now boiling over ramen; so Jaemin got off easy the rest of the night.
Haechan was not as forgiving the next time he saw the guys at Monday lunch, though. With you still nowhere to be seen and Jaemin in his line of sight ordering food, he addresses everything in a more serious tone than any of the guys were expecting.
“Does anyone else find it odd that they haven’t had sex yet?”
Eyes go wide at the rest of the table. “They haven’t?!” Jeno practically shouts before immediately getting embarrassed and making himself as small as possible. Haechan just shakes his head.
“They haven’t even spent the night at each other’s places yet. He always comes back home after hanging out with her and it’s always just him.”
“Maybe they’re taking it slow,” Mark replies with a shrug, but all eyes lock on him with ample skepticism.
“Does ‘slow’ seem like a Jaemin thing?” Haechan rebuttals. “I mean, come on. We’re talking about the guy who’s notorious for getting his dick wet at any available opportunity.”
“So, we think they don't really like each other? They’re faking it?” Renjun asks with pursed contemplative lips.
Haechan’s the one to shrug this time in mystery. “$600 is a hefty amount. He’d do anything he can for that, including but not limited to getting a fake girlfriend and lying to us,” he states more firmly, but that’s as Jaemin joins the table; his brows furrowed and mouth hanging slightly open as he looked around at the guys in something like disgust.
“What in the world did I just walk in on? Y/n is not my fake girlfriend. The deal money is nice but I’m at least honorable about these things,” he argues, and immediately all the guys whip their gazes towards him, varying expressions on their faces as Jisung speaks up in genuine question.
“Why haven’t you slept with her yet?” The seriousness of the question and the sheer interest in the rest of the guys’ faces gets Jaemin to roll his eyes.
“You guys are atrocious, you know that?” He says in place of an answer.
Chenle raises his brows. “The question remains,” he taunts with a smirk.
Jaemin looks him dead in the eyes as he responds. “She means more to me than that.”
“Means more to you than that?” Jeno reflects back with a laugh. “Jaemin, are you forgetting your love language?” This is the first thing you can pick up as you finally get to the table after questions from your classmates held you for more minutes than should be allowed. Regardless, you immediately jump right into conversation.
“Love language?” You echo with a smile. “There’s something I’m knowledgeable about. How’s my words of affirmation boy doing?” You continue, all your attention directed towards Jaemin as you shed your backpack from your body.
He looks up at you still standing by his side, eyes soft and speaking through a small smile. “Better now that you’re here,” he answers, and you don’t stop the bashful smile from coming across your face as you finally get situated sitting down next to him. The gentle moment is broken, though, with Jeno asking a question in total shock.
“Words of affirmation??” He begs for clarification, and the rest of the guys lean in at the table some more in apparent interest. You look at them all as though there was some joke you weren’t getting.
“Yes? What did you think it was?” You question back, and they respond in almost perfect unison.
“Physical touch.”
You can’t stop the small laugh from leaving your system as you look back at all of them seriously. “Jaemin’s good at showing love through physical touch, no doubt, but words of affirmation is by far his favorite way to receive love, it’s not even a question. And sure, part of that is how he smiles like an idiot whenever I tell him he’s the most handsome guy on the planet - which is stupid because ‘handsome’ honestly doesn’t even begin to describe it…” You trail off awkwardly before shooting your head back up to face everyone.
“But have you ever seen him receive a compliment that has nothing to do with his body or looks? The way his eyes light up like something just clicked for him? I mean, he’s so many more things before he’s physically attractive, and all he was waiting for was someone to recognize that. Every time we meet up after class and I say something like ‘I’ve been longing to be in your presence all day,’ or ‘thanks for bringing me more happiness than I’ve ever known,’ he’s practically on the verge of tears every time. It’s why when I told him I missed him that one day, all he could think to do was ask me to be his girlfriend. He’s been waiting to be missed on a level that had nothing to do with his body. He’s been waiting to be affirmed in a way that isn’t physical.”
That seemed to get everyone else at the table to shut up, swallowing awkwardly as they instead turned their attention to their food. You let out a small sigh of relief as you dig into your own sandwich, but Jaemin doesn’t think he can even take one bite anymore; a weird feeling in his stomach and his mind going a million miles an hour. When he does pick up his sandwich, it’s not because he’s finally convinced he can keep it down, but because not eating now would be incredibly suspicious to everyone…including you.
Jaemin walked you back to your dorm after lunch, something that became typical since it wasn’t always possible to pick you up from class for lunch. You were walking in comfortable silence; in fact, an element of awkwardness was only introduced once Jaemin spoke up with a strange sort of cough and hesitant words. “I didn’t know I was a words of affirmation guy,” he finally says after a couple of minutes.
With the two of you out of sightline and earshot of the others, you let your actions and reactions express more naturally. So, you paused completely, making him eventually stop and look over his shoulder at you in question. “Oh…really?!” You say in light shock before shaking your head and resuming your pace so you could catch back up to him and continue casually. “I mean, maybe you’re not then, but just from what I know-”
You’re cut off with a small laugh from Jaemin as he shakes his head softly, matching his contemplative tone. “No, I think you’re right. Everything you said I- I think you’re right.” He says it as though he were almost embarrassed by the fact, and you decide that’s the last thing you’re gonna allow him to feel in this situation.
“Oh, well, would you like me to affirm you more often then?” You ask seriously. “We aren’t exactly meeting up after class everyday and I’m not exactly telling you I’ve been waiting for that very moment, but I can.”
Jaemin is quick to dismiss the idea. “No, it’s okay. No use doing that when this whole thing is fake. I mean, rule number three or something is that everything is immediately dropped when we’re in private,” he tries to play off with a laugh, and as you finally reach the entrance to your dorm, you turn around to face him solemnly.
“Jaem, that’s not me putting on an act. You do know I love spending time with you, right? And-” You shake your head, frustrated with yourself that this is something you obviously didn’t do a good job of communicating earlier. “Take us out of this whole situation thing,” you command, finding your footing in what you’re wanting to say. “Just- as friends. I love spending time with you. I want you in my life forever, yeah?” You finish softly, and when you look back up at Jaemin, he’s quick to break eye contact.
“Yeah.”
The next few weeks saw to it that you and Jaemin were hanging out more than ever. What you saw as insane luck meant that every time you texted asking if he could hang out, he was never ‘with a girl’ at the time; and Jaemin was texting you and being the one to make plans at a far greater rate than you were, anyways. Instantly, your relationship reflected that during your time in high school - the only difference was that sometimes in the midst of trying to pretend you didn’t have the hugest crush on your best friend, you were also having to pretend you did have the hugest crush on your best friend.
Hang outs were still mainly at your place so that the two of you never had to worry about Haechan, though sometimes you’d purposely have a night in at Jaemin’s to keep Haechan convinced. This was not one of those times. Instead, you opened your door to Jaemin as you have for the past three Friday’s now, which the two of you decided would be ‘date night’ in everyone else’s eyes while really, you’d just keep a low profile and do whatever you wanted. Due to schedules, you always had an hour for homework before you’d be met with Jaemin’s presence, and he was right on time today. “Hey, Jaem!” You greet with a smile as you swing the door open and step back to allow him inside.
“Hey angel,” he replies casually, because calling you ‘angel’ was now a very typical occurrence, regardless of who was around to hear it. He flashes a smile in your direction, but instead of beelining for the couch like normal, he stops to stand kind of awkwardly in front of you before continuing hesitantly. “Mark is having a Halloween party if that’s something you’re interested in…we could go together. I know parties aren’t really your thing.” He speaks as though it were an apology, and all you can do is chuckle at his antics.
“Don’t worry about that. I am your fake girlfriend, aren’t I?” You tease in reply, and Jaemin raises his eyebrows as though he didn’t know where you were going with this.
“...Yes,” he draws out slowly, and you just shake your head at him fondly.
“So, if you’re going, then I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you answer sincerely, and though you’d never be able to convince yourself of it, you made Jaemin blush - just the tiniest bit.
He lets out something like a sigh of relief before nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Okay, I’ll tell Mark we’re going, then,” he says happily, and then suddenly it’s right back to routine as he heads for the couch to chill before the two of you could decide what all you actually wanted to do that day.
The next time you saw Jaemin was two days later when he asked if you wanted to accompany him to the store. It was all light and casual conversation as you strolled through the aisles, most of the time pointing at random items and saying ‘you’ to try and see who could get the other to laugh more. The bit promptly ended when you pointed at a Scrub Daddy to relate Jaemin to, but he instead teased you endlessly for using an item with “daddy” in the name. The only thing to veer his topic of conversation away from that was when you passed the aisle that had been repurposed into Halloween decorations and costumes, making him stop in his tracks.
“Have you decided on a costume for the party yet?” He asks curiously, and you turn back around to face him and redirect your path to peruse the Halloween aisle, touching random bits of costumes before dropping them back to the rack with a shake of your head.
“Well, I was gonna go as an angel since that’s kind of what you call me now, but if we do it as a couple’s costume, then you’d end up as the devil or a demon or whatever, and I don’t love the idea of that. So…would you wanna go as Team Rocket instead?” You ask in return. Jaemin swallows awkwardly as he takes in everything you just said, but he can’t take too long to explore the slightly comforting feeling brought on by you saying the idea of him as a devil wasn’t your favorite…because that wouldn’t be very ‘I don’t care what anyone else thinks’ of him. Instead, he resorts back to a familiar tease, an eyebrow raised as a playful smirk crossed his lips.
“Who said I wanted to do a couple’s costume?” He shoots back and your face immediately goes red as you scramble for words.
“Oh! You don’t- I was just- it’s not-” You’re cut off with a warm laugh from Jaemin.
“Breathe, angel, I was just messing with you,” he reassures with a shake of his head.
“Maybe you would make a good demon,” you deadpan in return, and Jaemin’s eyes light with fire as his jaw drops.
“Hey!”
“Just messing with you, Jaem,” you banter back, and Jaemin bites on the inside of his cheek to stop a wide grin from making an appearance at your behavior.
“I’m fine going as Team Rocket, as long as I get to be James,” he says with a mock seriousness, effectively getting you to smile as you roll your eyes.
“Well, I wasn’t going to suggest you be Jessie,” you assure in the same manner, and Jaemin nods his head, seemingly content with the plan before another question comes to mind.
“Are we dying our hair?” He asks, and this time he’s actually serious. You think about it for a second before giving into the idea with a contemplative nod.
“We can get the spray that lasts up until you wash it,” you suggest, and with a nod from Jaemin, your Halloween costumes were set - all you had to do was make them.
Fast forward a week and the only thing left to do was iron on the ‘R’ decal on Jaemin’s top, which was exactly what you were doing in his apartment as he took the time to spray blue in his hair. You look up from the heat press as Jaemin walks out of the bathroom. “Huh,” you let out involuntarily, and if you were any less close with Jaemin, you would’ve been embarrassed beyond words. However, he just looks at you with furrowed brows and a curious grin.
“What?” He asks, and you shrug your shoulders as though it were nothing big.
“You look good with blue hair,” you answer, trying your best to be casual about it.
Jaemin’s curious grin had turned into a shiteating one. “Oh, yeah?” He digs, trying to get under your skin; though, you thwart the attempt immediately, instead responding with nonchalance - the exact opposite of what he was reaching for.
“Well, no more than normal,” you reply, and Jaemin’s brows raise impossibly.
“Now, what does that mean?” He asks playfully, but you just shake your head.
“You’re the fuckboy, Jaemin. You know what I’m getting at.” With that, your attention was back on the iron as it beeped and let you know his shirt was ready. You pull it out from under the heat and turn it around so Jaemin could see the final product, and with a nod of approval, he grabs it from your hands and heads back to the bathroom.
“Looks great, angel,” he finally says, studying his appearance in the mirror before walking back out to the living area. You just drop your head as you feel your face heat up at the compliment.
“I’ll uh- go get ready,” you say quietly, and then you grab your own costume and hair spray before trading places with him in the bathroom.
Jaemin doesn’t hide his small smile as he watches you walk back out to the living area in your matching costume with him, and you try your best to pin your focus anywhere other than his soft gaze. “Um- drinking at parties isn’t really my thing so- I can drive us back here afterwards. You can drink however much you want,” you get out awkwardly before moving to sit down next to him on the couch.
Jaemin chuckles lightly in response to your behavior. “Are you sure?”
You nod your head profusely. “Of course. You enjoy parties a lot. I don’t want you to change an aspect of it just because I’m there, too. So, however much you normally drink…go for it.”
Jaemin studies your figure with ample doubt covering his features. “I don’t know. Me drinking while knowing I have a ride home typically means I turn into too much to handle,” he jokes, but any form of negative self-talk from him always grounds you, and you’re quick to refute it.
“Not for me,” you say, turning your head to make eye contact with him. “Never for me.” Your soft reassurance has Jaemin simply staring at you, and you quickly turn your head back to face your lap as you overthink every little embarrassing thing you’ve already done tonight. On the other hand, Jaemin didn’t even think twice before leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.
Your cheeks puff out with a smile in immediate response to the contact, but as you lift your gaze back up to face Jaemin, your attention is caught by Haechan, who had just walked out of his room in costume - a vampire costume that was already iconic and he hadn’t even done anything yet.
Your soft smile turns into a full-on grin as you address him. “Woah, Hyuck. You look great!” You say with a laugh, and Jaemin whips his head around to face his roommate just to fall into his own bout of laughter.
“Oh, fuck off,” Haechan replies with a playful roll of his eyes as he walks towards the door. “Are you two gonna head out soon?” He asks more seriously, and Jaemin gives a light nod.
“Yeah, we won’t be too far behind you. Y/n just isn’t a huge fan of parties, so we opted for fashionably late rather than fashionably early.”
Haechan flashes his eyebrows up in acknowledgement before turning back from the front door to face the two of you again. “Alright. Don’t violate the couch too much in the meantime. It’s my favorite couch,” he banters, and this time it’s you and Jaemin to roll your eyes.
“You fuck off,” you say through a grin, and Haechan drops his head with a loud laugh before bringing his gaze back to the two of you with a soft smile.
“I’ll see you guys soon,” he says happily, and with that, he’s out the door.
It was about thirty minutes later when you and Jaemin entered the party house hand-in-hand. As soon as you got in, you realized your friend group was a lot more popular than you ever thought, because seemingly everyone you went to school with was here. For parties already feeling overwhelming, parties where you could hardly move without bumping into someone were even more so. Though, in the midst of the blaring music, a hundred different conversations, and all the dancing, your attention is turned to your interlocked hand with Jaemin as he gently rubs his thumb across the back of your hand.
You shoot your gaze up at him just to see he’s already staring back down at you softly. Unlike you, he looked completely at home in the party scene, though you figure one can’t truly get labeled a fuckboy without being so. That’s also why you assume he was able to tell you were already uncomfortable from the second you stepped inside.
Hardly a few feet from the entrance, he leans down to you at his side, speaking slowly in your ear so you could make it out from the rest of the noise. “We’ll stay only as long as you want, okay? If you wanna turn back around right now, we can.”
You shake your head minimally, turning to face him and realizing that action placed your lips dangerously close together. You roll them inwards in hesitation before shifting your gaze to his own. “I’m not going to make you leave super early. You like parties.”
A smirk plays on Jaemin’s lips as he raises an eyebrow at you. “I like you more,” he replies playfully.
You dart your gaze off to the side, ripping your hand away from his in the process. “I’m fine. Let’s just go find our friends.” You take a step out from the entryway but quickly notice Jaemin isn’t following. You whip your head around to face him just to see his hand outstretched for you again.
“If we’re going to go find our friends, your hand better be in mine,” he quips, causing you to roll your eyes before obliging and lacing your fingers back together. He gives your hand a light squeeze as he flashes you a wide smile and drags you to where he already saw Haechan, Jeno, and Renjun.
“Hey, you guys look great!” Jeno says with a bright smile as the two of you join their circle. Jaemin finally slides his hand out of yours to instead place it on the small of your back. Despite yourself, a small smile comes onto your face, not at Jeno’s words, but at Jaemin’s touch, and you relax a bit more against his hand.
Jaemin is the one to actually respond as the other two guys turn their attention to the both of you as well. “Thanks! My incredible, beautiful girlfriend made the costumes,” he says, tossing his gaze over to you at his side. You roll your eyes at him, but your smile grows.
“Making it is not the same as making it look good. You did that all on your own,” you shoot back earnestly. The three guys in front of you throw on a look of disgust, as if they weren’t the ones telling Jaemin he needed a girlfriend. Jaemin just looks over at you with a soft gleam in his eyes, his mouth straining as he tries to conceal a smile. He opts to just kiss you on the cheek instead, then reaching for your far shoulder and pulling you his way. He snakes his arms around you to keep you there in a hug from behind, his thumb gently rubbing up and down your waist. The five of you stood in a circle just talking for at least an hour. Occasionally, one of them would leave to grab drinks for the group, though you were sure to just stick to water the entire night as everyone around you became a comfortable state of tipsy.
Eventually, Jaemin unwound his arms from your figure, causing you to turn your head and look up at him in question. He lets an easy smile paint his lips. “I’m just running to the bathroom real quick. I’ll come find you again in a few.”
You nod your head, and your eyes follow Jaemin for as long as they could before he became completely indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd. You turn your attention back to Renjun, Jeno, and Haechan. “I’m gonna go find Mark,” you start with an awkward laugh. “I don’t know if he even knows Jaemin and I are here.” The three of them nod at you, Renjun racking his foggy brain for where he thinks he last saw him. You nod, thanking them for their company so far, and then heading off towards the kitchen under the guidance of Renjun’s memory.
When Jaemin steps out of the bathroom, he almost immediately runs into the body of another guy. Opening his mouth to apologize, the guest beats him to words.
“Jaemin, nice costume,” he says, and Jaemin loses his tension at the compliment.
“Oh, thank you-” He starts, but is quickly cut off again by the stranger.
“You got another one of your hoes to match with tomorrow?” He slurs with a smile, throwing an arm around Jaemin’s shoulder.
Jaemin’s eyes widen as he snakes out under the touch, guiding their hand back down to their side. “Uh, no, y/n’s my girlfriend. It’s just her and we’re just out for tonight,” he replies, turning his gaze away from the man to instead scan the crowd and try to lay eyes back on you.
“Ha! Good one,” the guy laughs out, and Jaemin snaps his gaze back to him in confusion.
“Good one?” He echoes back in question, but with a hard slap on his back that Jaemin thinks was meant to be playful, his conversation partner quickly leaves. Jaemin stands there for a moment puzzled, but he tries to shake out of the uncomfortable feeling as he directs his gaze back to the big crowd, looking for where you may have wandered off to once he sees you’re no longer with the previous group.
He quickly realizes he wouldn’t be able to find you by standing in one place, so he picks up his feet and starts weaving through the crowd again. When he feels a hand on his back, he assumes it’s you, and he whips around towards the figure. His face quickly drops when he realizes it isn’t you, and suddenly he’s extremely conscious of how everyone’s been touching him tonight.
“Such a shame your costume shows so little skin,” the girl says with a small pout and a fake innocence in her eyes. Jaemin tries to take a step back, just to bump into more people dancing and forcing him back into close proximity. He swallows hard, accepting the fact that he was having to engage in this conversation now.
“My girlfriend picked it out,” he says firmly, and the girl in front of him just tilts her head to the side, now rubbing a hand up and down his arm.
“Well, she’s ruining the fun,” she replies, something like pity in her eyes as she looks at Jaemin. He furrows his brows, his breath getting heavier as the air seems to get thinner.
“Um, I- I think I’m still fun without showing skin,” Jaemin fumbles out, and the girl just laughs, finally letting her hand drop from his arm as her doe-eyed expression turns mean.
“You’d like to believe that,” she says, shaking her head and walking off.
Jaemin stared after her in a weird mix of hurt and confusion that he hadn’t ever felt before. “What?” He asks in defeat, but there was no one there to give him any clarification.
He desperately starts looking around for you again. If he could just get back to you, if he could just slip his hand into yours, he was sure the heavy weight that’s found its way onto his chest would disappear. He was shaking, he didn’t know when he had started shaking, but it seemed to take the place of his breathing, and now he was worried about whether or not he would even have time to find you before he suffocated. Almost all the effort he was placing into finding you was now being placed into holding back his tears. Everything was too loud, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, couldn’t hear his voice if he spoke aloud, suddenly not sure if he was even getting any words out when he opened his mouth, which only worried him more because he was dying and he couldn’t tell anyone.
Holding your hand, it was the only positive thought he could seem to cling to, the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor in a ball - he had to find you, he wanted to hold your hand. He thinks it’s a miracle that his feet are able to start moving again, especially when someone definitely put 50 lb weights in his shoes without him knowing.
He finally lays eyes on you, now in the kitchen talking with Mark, Chenle, and Jisung. Though you were maybe ten feet away, it might as well have been miles, as another hand gets placed on his chest from a random girl in front of him. “James, let me know if you get bored of Jessie later. I can give you a good time,” she says with a smirk, and Jaemin feels like he’s going to throw up; though he can’t quite tell if that was because of her words or the whirlwind of the past three minutes. In fact, if he knew just how badly he was shaking, he would’ve questioned how she didn’t feel it when she placed her hand on his chest.
He shakes his head as quickly as he could without getting too dizzy to continue his trek towards you. “No, I quite like Jessie,” he says through hiccups, not sure when the first stray tear made its way down his cheek. He pushes past the girl without giving her time to respond and make him feel worse. All he wanted was you, and when he finally got close enough to place his shaky hand in yours, all he could manage were whispered words that he prayed would reach you, or at least leave his mouth at all.
“Please don’t leave me.”
Still in conversation with Mark, Chenle, and Jisung, you don’t turn too much attention to Jaemin slightly behind you as you settle your hand into his touch, but that’s when you feel how badly he’s shaking. “Jaem, are you okay?” You ask at your side, though your eyes remained trained on Chenle as he told the least dramatic story in the most dramatic way.
“There’s a lot of people here,” Jaemin whimpers out, the answer confusing enough to pull your focus away from Chenle.
“I know-” You start, your gaze following from your interlocked hands up his arm and to his face, but that’s when you actually see the state he’s in and your face instantly falls into worry. A steady stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks, his eyes tightly shut to block out the extra stimulation, only opening them to look at you before promptly getting embarrassed and turning away. You immediately squeeze his hand a little tighter in your hold, getting him to train his eyes back on you. You pick up your words as he does so, careful to hide your immense worry in your tone and instead speaking softly for him. “Hey…let’s get you to a quieter room, okay?”
Jaemin nods his head minimally, able to let out a choked response. “Okay.” You take no extra time in telling the others that you were going to have to get filled in on the story later. Instead, you just make sure your grip on Jaemin’s hand is enough to not lose him while navigating through the crowd as you immediately lead him upstairs and into an empty room.
“Talk to me, what’s going on?” You say, closing the door and turning on a soft lamp light before you whip back around to watch Jaemin pace the entire floor, his fingers running frantically through his hair.
“I don’t know. Everyone keeps talking to me and touching me and everything is so loud and my head hurts and it’s so hot I’m sweating and dizzy and freaking out-” He spoke all at once, and you knew the last thing he needed was to run out of breath while explaining. You jump to cut him off, still trying your best to make your voice as calming as possible for him.
“Hey…it’s gonna be okay. Can you sit down for me?” The second you said it, Jaemin was on the floor, his heavy breaths visibly not making it to his whole body. Your eyes soften some more as you look at him. It didn’t take a genius to tell you he’s never been in this situation before, and all he knew to do was trust you. You let out a soft sigh as you move closer to him. “I know you said you’re hot and sweaty and overwhelmed with touch, but is it okay if I hug you?”
“Please.” The word comes out weak, riddled with enough tears to make you break. You sit down behind him, placing your legs out along his own outstretched ones as you gently hug him from behind.
“You can close your eyes, just focus on my voice. You’re gonna be okay,” you state with confidence, rubbing a thumb gently up and down his side. Jaemin is quick to refute, shaking his head with an intensity you wish he wouldn’t right now.
“No, y/n, it feels like I’m dying,” he says, fear covering every aspect of his voice. You let out a soft sigh.
“You’re not dying, you’re panicking.” This, too, he refuses to accept. His response comes out as firm as it could through tears.
“I don’t panic. I’m the cool guy. I’m not panicking, I’m dying.”
Despite yourself, a small laugh escapes you through an exhale, and you hug Jaemin to you extra tight. “Baby, no matter how cool you are, there’s not a person in the world completely immune to panic attacks.”
Jaemin stills for a moment, the sudden switch confusing you before he speaks and confuses you even more. “I thought you didn’t like that word,” he says, wiping his face of tears and then placing his hands on your own arms around his torso.
You furrow your eyebrows, though with him in front of you, there was no point. “What word?” You ask. Surely he wasn’t talking about the word ‘panic attack’ but racking your brain, there was nothing else you said that wasn’t just a normal word.
“You don’t know you said it,” he says curiously, a small sniffle coming from his figure as he tries his own attempt at a light laugh.
“What are you talking about, Jaem?” You question again. At this point, you were sure one of you was going crazy, and you really were banking on it not being you. Though, Jaemin just dismisses the subject, and with you sitting behind him, you missed the small smile that now covered his features.
“Nothing, please just continue holding me like this,” he begs softly, and you nod your head, squeezing him tighter for a second.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply seriously, and there you and Jaemin sat for at least another ten minutes; the only noise to break the silence was his occasional cries as he still tried to rid himself of tears and calm down completely.
When you couldn’t remember his last sniffle, you start to rub your thumb up and down a portion of his waist, disrupting the physical stillness before you spoke and disrupted the silence.
“I wanna get you some water soon,” you say gently, but any attempt to move from your position was shot down as Jaemin quickly fumbled to grab your arms and press them firmly back down across his torso, his body beginning to shake again at the idea of you getting up.
“No! Don’t leave! Please,” he chokes out, and almost all of the progress you thought he made in the past few minutes was erased.
You sigh, and refusing to think about the fact that you were practically breaking your own rule, you lean forward to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m staying right next to you, Jaem,” you start, and you watch as he basically forces his breathing to get back to normal at your words…or at least tries to. “Do you want me to call Jeno and get him to bring up water for you, or do you want to follow me down to the kitchen, grab a water bottle, and leave?”
Jaemin thinks for a moment before dropping his head in what you assume was shame, which was the last thing he needed to be feeling. “I- can we leave?”
You squeeze your arms around his body once more in acknowledgement. “Yeah, come on,” you reply, and the two of you slowly make your way off the floor and into a standing position. As you let go of his waist, you immediately grab his hand in yours, looking up at Jaemin for confirmation that this was what he wanted to do. He stared back down at you with a teary smile and nod, and with that, you led him out of the bedroom and back downstairs.
Thankfully, Mark, Chenle, and Jisung were still in the kitchen, meaning you had to cover no extra ground to fill Mark in on your departure.
“Hey, I’m gonna take Jaemin home,” you say, turning to face Mark after grabbing a water bottle from the fridge he was standing next to.
Mark furrows his brows. “Everything okay?” He asks, knowing Jaemin wasn’t one to leave parties early, nor was he one to have tear streaks painted across his face.
You try to smile but it comes out more as a grimace. “Yeah, he’s just a little overwhelmed today. Thank you for inviting us, though. It was a blast.”
Mark nods his head in understanding. “Thanks for coming. Are you driving?”
“Yeah,” you reply, and Mark forces some sobriety back in his system.
“You haven’t had anything to drink, have you?” He asks in worry, and you let a grateful smile paint your face as you respond.
“No, I’m okay.”
Mark nods before taking another sip of his own drink. “Okay. Be safe. I’ll see you guys soon.” You reciprocate his nod in acknowledgement and then immediately lead Jaemin towards the front door and back to the car.
You make sure he’s all taken care of in the passenger seat before you start messing with the controls in the driver’s seat to move it to where you could actually drive. You make a mental note to apologize about changing the position of his seat and mirrors tomorrow after everything’s calmed down, but as you start driving, Jaemin is the one to beat you to an apology.
“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, and you risk a quick glance over at him with furrowed brows.
“Huh, why?”
Jaemin fiddles with his fingers in his lap, unable to look anywhere else because of his embarrassment. “For making you leave the party. You were having fun,” he answers softly, and despite your best efforts, a small laugh escapes you.
“Jaem, I was having fun because all we did was hang around with our group of friends. I don’t care for parties in and of themselves, you know that. Truthfully, I’d rather just be with you right now,” you say, and as you pull up to a stop sign, you look back over at him again. Defeat riddled his features as he spits out a response.
“But I’m just crying.” He speaks those words as though he were mad at himself for it, and you don’t understand how your best friend came to believe that he always had to be some perfectly presented guy.
You let out a sigh before turning your attention back to the road. “It doesn’t change the fact that I like spending time with you. Besides, you’d be crazy to think I’d rather be anywhere else right now when you’ve got me so worried about you.” When the only response from Jaemin is another sob he tries to cover up, you frown. “I’m not mad at you for making us leave the party early, and I’m not mad at you for crying,” you add on, and Jaemin finally lifts his head to look over at you in his driver’s seat. He seems to scan your figure up and down, processing your words and the fact that you were actually taking care of him right now. He sniffles once more before abruptly turning his focus back to his lap, and the car ride is silent the rest of the way to his apartment.
As soon as Jaemin gets into his own room, he already looks a thousand times better; the tension in his shoulders finally falls and his breathing gets more regular. You scavenge around his apartment for anything he may need during the night and next morning, because outside of his panic attack, he was still tipsy, too.
With a fresh water bottle and ibuprofen set on his night stand, you bid Jaemin goodnight, running a hand gently through his hair as he laid down in bed. However, before you can fully turn around and leave, Jaemin catches the hand you just had in his hair. In shock, you whip back around, just to be met with wide pleading eyes.
“Please stay,” he says softly, and your breath hitches for a moment before you resume your cool, or at least try to.
“Jaemin-” You start, your tone already giving way to your refusal. Though, Jaemin cuts you off in an instant, his grip on you getting slightly tighter.
“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” he shoots back, and his voice is already shaky again from the sudden raise in volume of his claim.
You sigh, trying to slowly snake your hand out of his grip as you reply. “Yeah, but I was kind of meaning that for while we were still at the party, not…now, when you’re going to sleep.”
He refuses to let you out of his hold, and he pulls you even closer to the end of the bed. “What if Haechan comes back?” He starts, trying his best to talk normally. “He’d be really confused as to why you didn’t stay over after the night I had.”
Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “There’s no shot Haechan makes it back tonight or is sober enough to think about anything but getting in bed himself. You’re just saying that to try and convince me.”
He finally lets his grip on you drop as he lets out a heavy breath bordering on the dividing line between defeat and hope. “Is it working?” He asks, and though you were finally free from his grasp, able to just say a final goodnight and leave to head back to your place, you don’t. Instead, you drop your head, speaking so softly you’re not sure Jaemin would even be able to hear.
“I want the side next to the wall.”
With your gaze facing the floor, you couldn’t see the sudden warm glow behind Jaemin’s eyes as he pulled back the comforter on that side and pulled his legs up so you could crawl over by the foot of the bed, neither of you saying another word as you do.
Jaemin didn’t know why he was so captivated by watching you fall asleep in his bed. The two of you must’ve been at least a full foot away from each other, as you immediately made sure to press up against the wall and make yourself as small as you could. That was fine by Jaemin. He wasn’t asking for the two of you to cuddle in the first place - this was still a fake relationship after all, and he was very much aware of that. In fact, that truth was probably more plaguing than ever at the front of his mind. Now instead of a reminder that he had to pretend to date you, it was a reminder that this was ending in two months. Jaemin’s tipsy brain couldn’t put together what the sinking feeling in his chest meant at the realization of that. So, he pushed it away, and just looked over at you sleeping peacefully right up against the wall. He didn’t need to have his arms around you - knowing you were next to him was enough, and for the first time that night since the party started, he was completely at peace.
When you wake up and realize you were more comfortable than usual in your bed, you open your eyes and figure out that it’s because you’re not in your bed. In fact, you’re hardly resting against a bed at all. Instead, one of your arms is lazily thrown over your best friend’s waist as your head rested comfortably, incredibly too comfortably, on his chest. The discovery that your legs were some kind of interlaced didn’t make things any better, and the full realization that you were practically on top of Jaemin had you jolt. This, of course, didn’t do anything but wake him up. With your head now propped up on his chest, you watch as he slowly peeks open one of his eyes, exhaustion still written over all his features. However, the second his gaze lands on you, he shoots open both eyes. Embarrassment quickly floods your being as you address everything. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
You’re cut off with a light chuckle and softly spoken words from Jaemin. “You’re okay.” Regardless of his response, you can’t shake the embarrassment. Jaemin’s arms fall from around your body as you try to get up, and that’s when you realize both of his arms were wrapped around you in the first place. You push the thought to the back of your head, turning to get off of his bed completely.
You’re stopped by his hand grabbing yours. You quickly turn your attention back to Jaemin, who still had yet to move any part of his body but his arms as he looks at you softly, pleading. “Can we go back to sleep?”
You swallow awkwardly, your throat now suddenly dry. You dart your eyes around his room before sighing and just landing your gaze back on him. “Um, do you still need me here for that?” You ask genuinely. Jaemin breaks eye contact this time, as he just looks down at your two hands still holding onto each other. He gives a slow nod of his head, humming a little.
You bite your lip to stop a smile from coming onto your face. It wasn’t often that you got to see your best friend looking as gentle and small as he did now. Jaemin, with the larger than life personality just wanting to stay in bed with you, it was hard to say ‘no.’ So, you don’t. “Okay.” Though when you move to resume your position back by the wall, he chuckles a bit and uses your still interlocked hands to pull you back onto him.
The next two days after you woke up on top of Jaemin (again) were filled with an awkward period of zero contact between the two of you. You couldn’t blame him for not responding to your text to hang out the day after. You were both really good at never crossing lines back in high school, but Halloween put a blur on every single one…and it didn’t help that he was tipsy that night, too. Outside of whatever rules in your contract were broken, you were sure Jaemin was also just embarrassed to no end.
There was a lot of pressure on him to be this man with no emotions; his label as a fuckboy meant people typically started and stopped all their thoughts about him at the sexual level, and he did his best to live up to their many expectations in that department, neglecting all the other parts of his being that needed tending to. Vulnerability was not a Jaemin specialty, largely because it’s never what anyone was looking for from him; and anything that lessened his sex appeal, and thus meant he couldn’t make a call and immediately have any girl he wanted, was a possibility he sought to avoid.
You didn’t necessarily mind the no-contact, though. Your heart was doing flips and spins in Jaemin’s presence on Halloween, and you had to give yourself a cool-down period before seeing him so that you could act normal around him again - whatever it was that ‘normal’ looked like when you were having to convince a group of friends that you liked your best friend while convincing your best friend you didn’t actually like him.
Jaemin made up an excuse for your absence at Monday’s lunch, but on Tuesday he finally messaged you again and asked you out for ice cream, which you of course said ‘yes’ to. He meets you at the entrance to your dorm and smiles at you with something like a sigh of relief when you smile back at him; though, with his messy hair, thick-framed glasses, and a hoodie adorning his figure, it was hard to do anything but smile - he looked criminally boyfriend.
“Hey, I’m- sorry…for it being weird these past few days,” he gets out somewhat awkwardly as you start on your walk towards the best ice cream parlor by campus.
You shake your head with a small laugh. “It’s okay. You’ve been going through it recently,” you joke, and Jaemin licks his lips before bringing himself to laugh as well.
“Thanks for uh- putting up with me on Halloween.” He speaks as though the words were bitter on his tongue. “I’m sorry about forcing you to spend the night.”
You let out a sigh. You wanted to stop and force him to see the sincerity in your eyes as you told him that you weren’t ‘putting up with him,’ but you knew you needed to keep this moment more casual so he wouldn’t find these vulnerable bits overwhelming and consequently shut down. So instead, you just keep walking with a small shake of your head.
“You don’t have to apologize for that. You just had a panic attack - if I didn’t spend the night, I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep. I would’ve stayed up all night worried about you. It was better that I was with you.”
Jaemin lets something like a grimace cross his features as he responds with a wry laugh. “You care about me a lot,” he points out, making you look up at him by your side with raised brows.
“Of course I do. You’re my best friend,” you say seriously, and Jaemin looks down to meet your gaze, giving away the distant look in his eyes.
“Ha, fair,” he begins. “I care about you a lot, too.” As he continues, he drops his head to face his feet. “But I don’t think I’d know how to take care of you while you’re having a panic attack,” he admits regrettably, but all you can do is give a soft smile.
“I’m not expecting you to. All I ask is that you let me be there for you again if you have another one…and that you stop being so embarrassed about showing emotions,” you tack on, causing Jaemin to laugh a bit in defeat.
“Okay, angel, but only with you. I have a hot guy persona to keep up in the real world,” he says through a smile, but you shake your head.
“You’re hot, regardless,” you deadpan, and Jaemin’s face lights up as he nudges you in the side playfully.
“Well, look at that! You sweet talker. Maybe I’ll pay for your ice cream today,” he banters, and soon the two of you are in shared laughter as you elbow him back.
“Whatever. I’m 80% sure you were gonna pay for my ice cream even before that.”
“80%?” He echos, bringing a hand up to his chest as though he’s been shot. “Such little faith,” he tuts, shaking his head and making you roll your eyes playfully.
“Am I supposed to have more faith in a fuckboy than that?” You tease, and Jaemin’s face falls into a mock seriousness, holding open the door to the ice cream parlor for you as he looks at your figure with raised eyebrows.
“No, you’re supposed to have more faith in your best friend than that,” he says as you pass through the door, and you look back at him to share matching small smiles.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I have nothing but faith in you,” you reply as he, too, fully steps inside and lets the door swing closed behind him. The proximity has you looking almost directly up at him as he stares down at you in much the same manner; playful gleams in your eyes and fond smiles adorning your faces. At once, he nods his head towards the counter behind you.
“Go order, angel. It’s on me today.”
You scrunch your face up at him with a big grin. “Thanks, handsome.” Then you promptly turn around and head towards where the cashier was waiting to take your order, not even taking one chance to look back and see how red Jaemin’s face had gotten in response.
Jaemin knew it was coming, that was the funny thing. He just wasn’t expecting the disconnect between his head and his heart to be remedied all at once; but looking at you standing in line and pointing at what flavor you wanted, he had never wanted to do this with anyone else, but he really really wanted it with you, today and every day after that.
Sitting down and actually eating ice cream included the most normal of conversations between you and Jaemin. He wasn’t your best friend for nothing - the two of you could talk forever and never run out of things to say or comfort and joy to find in each other’s presence. As such, when you finished your ice cream cones and left the parlor, interaction flowed as it always had while he walked you back to your dorm…meaning the two of you looked like just best friends; close enough on the sidewalk to hear each other but far enough apart so that there was no possibility of accidentally grazing the back of each other’s hands or anything. You were hardly conscious of it, elated at the fact that you and Jaemin were so close and consistent again after the past few years, but Jaemin could practically only focus on the distance between the two of you.
You had basically just stepped foot back on actual campus when Jaemin abruptly stopped, grabbing your wrist and turning you towards him as he spoke in a rush.
“My friends are looking, kiss me,” he says in something close to a panic, and so you immediately oblige, pressing up on your tiptoes to kiss him firmly. You place your hands on his chest to steady yourself as you break away, catching your breath - something that Jaemin always seemed to make you lose - as you turn your head around to look at the surrounding area.
“Where are they?” You ask through a light pant, turning back to Jaemin once you checked and double checked but caught no sign of his friends.
Jaemin licks his lips hesitantly, shaking his head. “They must have left already,” he says through an exhale, and you take a deep breath, finally allowing yourself to step away from Jaemin’s body as you face the ground, trying to regain your footing from the whiplash it felt you just went through. Jaemin lets out an awkward cough before speaking up again. “We should probably hold hands all the time when we’re in public, though. I’m pretty sure Chenle’s the only suspicious one still out of the friend group, but it’d throw anyone off if we’re dating and not holding hands. And if there’s one thing I learned from the Halloween party, it’s that people don’t know we’re dating, and that should probably change so it doesn’t just look like an act put on for the friend group…or Chenle’s never gonna believe it.”
He wasn’t wrong, and you knew that - you knew that before all of this even started. Rule number three was that the act is immediately dropped in private, but that came with the other side of things being that you had to put on an act while in public, regardless of who was around to witness it.
You nod your head slowly. “Yeah, okay,” you cede, and Jaemin’s hand immediately finds yours, the warmth from the contact making you realize how chilled your bones currently were. There was no more hiding it from girls in your classes now - you were Jaemin’s girlfriend to the general public, not just to his six best friends. You needed these next two months to pass by quickly, because with the promise of Jaemin’s hand being in yours more than ever, you were sure your chances of survival just decreased dramatically.
That Friday, your date night was replaced with a night in at Jaemin’s apartment. As soon as he shot you a text saying he was home from class, you made your way over to his place. He opened the door with the bright smile he typically revealed just for you, stepping back to let you inside with a fond, “hey angel.”
You step inside with a smile and small greeting in reply. “What do you wanna do today?” You ask, turning around to face him once you realize you were aimlessly crossing the span of his apartment for no reason. Already preparing for the question, Jaemin moves his hand from behind his back to reveal a thick blu-ray case in his grip.
“Harry Potter movie marathon?” He asks with a smirk.
You look back at him with raised eyebrows and a small grin of your own. “You know I can’t say ‘no’ to Harry Potter at any point in the Fall or Winter seasons,” you reply, and Jaemin’s eyes find a new glow behind them.
“That and Gilmore Girls; though I’m much more in the mood for Harry Potter because if we started rewatching Gilmore Girls now, we’d have to get through all those episodes with that floppy-haired jerk and really, Jess is so much better,” he adds on seriously, and all you can do is laugh.
“Hey, Dean is at least better than Logan,” you respond, and Jaemin lets out an actual groan.
“Please don’t get me started on Logan…can we instead get started on Harry Potter?” He asks again, waving the disc case around invitingly and causing you to laugh some more as you walk towards the couch.
“Just waiting on you,” you answer as you plop down on the couch, making Jaemin roll his eyes playfully before turning around to set everything up on the TV. As the familiar soundtrack fills the room, Jaemin places himself next to you like normal, handing you a blanket to make the cozy night-in complete.
Two hours later, as Jaemin got up to switch out the discs from The Sorcerer’s Stone to The Chamber of Secrets, you got up for a bathroom break, and when the two of you sat back down, there was maybe an inch less space between you both than previously. Not much else changed. That is, until not even ten minutes into the second movie. You catch in your peripheral as Jaemin moves his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. You don’t think anything of it until that arm doesn’t come back down to his side, but instead wraps around the back of your shoulders.
“Is Haechan here?” You ask lightly, trying to talk over the sound of your breath hitching. Haechan’s room was closest to the bathroom, and you don’t remember any sign of life coming from nearby while you were in there, but nothing else explained this, because this was not normal between the two of you.
“No,” Jaemin answers shortly, and all you can do is swallow hesitantly as you fight for words again.
“Then why is your arm around my shoulder?” You ask, trying to make it sound as though your words were a playful tease and not a desperate question.
Jaemin looks over at you with raised eyebrows and a playful smirk. “Because what if he comes back?” He replies casually, and you try to roll your eyes in much the same manner, as though his arm around your shoulder wasn’t single-handedly making your heart rate spike. He was right, anyway - if Haechan came back, it would be weird for the two of you to be sitting any other way.
It was during Prisoner of Azkaban when Haechan inevitably walked into the apartment. Busy with locking the door behind him, he was caught off guard when locking eyes with the two of you as he turned back around. Though, all at once, his gaze softened as he looked between you, Jaemin, and the television. “Hey guys,” he says warmly, and you mentally high-five yourself not only for the fact that you and Jaemin seemed to have truly won Haechan over, but also that you had won Haechan over; the main reason this bet was even made was because Haechan couldn’t stand whatever girl it was that Jaemin had over, but here he was, excited to see you cuddled into Jaemin on the couch, and that win was not lost on you.
“Hey,” Jaemin replied with a smile. “We’re watching Harry Potter if you want to join,” he continues, but Haechan shakes his head at the extended invite as he moves to grab something from the mess that was the kitchen counter.
“Tempting, but- I’m all good. I’m about to head back out, actually. Mark and I are gonna hit a few bars and try to unwind from this bullshit week,” he says with a weak laugh. You and Jaemin flash your eyebrows in acknowledgement.
“Let me know if you need a ride back home. We’ll swing by to grab you and Mark, or- I will, at least, depending on what time it ends up being. Regardless, be safe. I enjoy having you as a roommate,” Jaemin says, his tone turning more playful with every word.
Haechan rolls his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t drink and drive. We all know I’m smarter than that,” he says, but when he makes eye contact with you and Jaemin again, he meets your wide-eyed stares of doubt, causing him to shake his head with a more hearty laugh. “You guys suck,” he says with a smile. “I’ll keep you updated throughout the night. It was nice seeing you, y/n,” he continues seriously, beginning to fiddle with the front door lock on his exit.
“You, too,” you reply genuinely, and with one more nod and wave goodbye, he was out the door. It wasn’t even five seconds later when Jaemin’s arm detaches itself from your shoulder, instead finding comfort at his side again. He didn’t pay any mind to it, his attention pinned solely on the movie. You do your best to not show any physical reaction to the absence of his touch, especially when you were the one giving him a hard time for it in the first place. You’re almost shocked by how well Jaemin is able to turn it on and off, though you figure the real problem was how poorly you were able to do the same. Jaemin was just doing his part, exactly as he said he would.
Your heart had to stop looking for hidden meaning to every touch, every “angel,” because he was your best friend and crush, but you were his best friend and fake-girlfriend. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin ran through the same spiel in reverse inside his own head, figuring if he kept his arm around you now with the promise of Haechan being gone, you would surely catch onto the fact that he craved your touch more than typical of best friends - which was exactly what you both were going back to at the start of the new year.
It was the first Tuesday after you and Jaemin agreed to ramp up your public dating facade, and you were already the center of attention as you walked into class at 11:00. You tell yourself no one’s gaze locked onto you as you opened the door for class - that you were making it up; but at least some percent of that story was false, because as you sit in your chair and start pulling out your notebook for class, your name gets called from the seat diagonal to you. “Y/n, rumor has it that you and Jaemin are actually dating,” this girl, Hana, says. You knew she was looking for a response, so you don’t give her one, instead focusing on your pen mindlessly rolling between your fingers.
“You? With a guy like him?” She continues, adding more bite and disbelief to each word. You keep your gaze focused in front of you, jaw tightening as you try to hide more robust reactions. That is, until she continues. “You can’t be that good in bed.” Your fist clenches as you whip your head towards her; furrowed, taunting eyebrows matching the fire in her eyes and the smirk on her lips, the rest of her friend group snickering behind her. You have the patience for none of it - you were not going to sit here and take this.
“Actually,” you begin, your kind tone dripping in sarcasm. “I know this is something you don’t have experience with, so bear with me, but Jaemin genuinely likes me as a person and so I didn’t have to win him over with just my skills in bed. Yeah! He actually wants to hold my hand and tell me pretty things and I’m just so sorry that he never had the desire to do any of that with the likes of you!” You give her one last look before shrugging a bit, even your fake smile completely ridden from your face. “Actually, I’m not sorry at all.”
Hana looks mortified, her friend group in the surrounding desks all watching the exchange now with wide eyes. You don’t even think any of them saw it coming when Hana got up from her seat and lunged towards you, swinging at your face. “You bitch!” She yells at you, her fist making contact with the area around your eye. You wince slightly but you refused to give her the satisfaction of a bigger reaction - you’d leave that for when you were alone. You move your hand up to touch the area, making sure none of her rings caught your skin and drew blood, but when your fingers came back clean, you just move your gaze back to her in disinterest.
“Are you done now?” You ask monotonously. You catch her fist clench again in your peripheral and prepare yourself for another hit because seemingly none of the other students were concerned with stopping the exchange. However, your professor finally walks in before Hana can even get another word out, and instead she’s told to take her seat as you swing back to face the front of the room in your own chair. The throbbing that half of your face was currently experiencing would have to wait an hour and twenty minutes to be addressed, you weren’t letting her win.
Thankfully, that was your last of two classes for the day, so you were able to head back to your dorm directly after. You throw your backpack down in the entryway and immediately head for your bathroom to assess the damages. “Fuck,” you whisper under your breath. The hour and a half was enough time for a proper bruise to start forming, and it wasn’t necessarily the prettiest of black eyes. You move a hand up to touch the area again, this time just the light pressure already putting you in horrid pain. With a defeated groan, you leave the bathroom and dig through your freezer for an ice pack to hold up to the area instead.
Settling yourself down on the couch, you decide the last thing you need is for Jaemin to see you like this. With a sigh, you open your phone and pull up your texts with him. Hey, just a heads up, I don’t have a lot of time to hang this week or make it to friend group lunches.
Jaemin’s reply is almost instantaneous. Is everything okay?
You frown at the message. You hated lying to your best friend, but explaining what was up would defeat the whole purpose of saying you couldn’t hang out anyways. Yep! You reply instead, thankful when Jaemin didn’t press any further. You’d give yourself a week to heal, and then you were sure makeup would be able to cover what little would be left of the bruising by then.
Those plans didn’t even last twenty-four hours. There was a knock on your door after classes on Wednesday and you figured it was your RA here to remind you not to leave your windows open while out at class with the chances of snow ever increasing. Though, when you lazily throw your door open, it’s your best friend on the other side. Your eyes go wide and you immediately move a hand up to cover the left half of your face where your black eye was still very much at its peak. “Jaemin, what are you doing here?!” You ask in a rush, but he doesn’t match your demeanor at all.
Instead, he shrugs, a light smile painting his lips. “I missed you, angel-” He answers as he brings a hand up to your wrist and gently guides your own hand down away from your face…and that’s when his energy completely flips, eyes going wide as he rushes to place a hand on your cheek and assess the damage himself. “Oh my god, what happened to you?!” He asks in a panic. You shake your head adamantly, trying to move his hand away from your face as you reply with a serious bite.
“Nothing, it’s fine,” you reply dismissively, and Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow as he scans your entire face.
“Is this why you said you couldn’t hang out?” He asks, almost mad if you had to put an emotion on it.
You shake your head, dropping your gaze to face the floor. “Jaem, don’t worry about it-” You start indifferently, but he cuts you off with enough emotion for the both of you.
“What happened?” He questions again, this time his tone much firmer than any of his previous questions. His gaze bore into you, and you knew there wasn’t any getting out of this. You let out an annoyed sigh, shrugging like it was nothing as you go to reply.
“This girl in my class found out we were dating, and apparently that pissed her off because she didn’t think I deserved you or I was taking her spot and all that. And I snapped back so she punched me,” you finally answer, and Jaemin’s body language immediately softens as he looks over you once more with a frown and wide eyes.
“Y/n…” You don’t want to deal with his sorry tone. Instead, you move to meet his gaze again as you shake your head, the frustrated tears in your eyes rather revealing themself in your fractured tone.
“Please just sleep with her, Jaem. Tell her we broke up or something and then sleep with her. Or pretend you’re cheating on me with her…she’d love that, and no one would believe her if she said so, so we keep our cover,” you suggest in a rush, and Jaemin looks at you as though you just committed murder.
“No. Absolutely not,” he replies instantly.
“Jaem-” You start through a defeated exhale, but hearing you out was currently the last thing on Jaemin’s mind.
“I’m not fucking sleeping with someone who hurt you,” he states with force, and you don’t know why this is such a big deal to him, not when the solution was this simple.
“I would just rather have her satisfied and dealt with,” you respond hollowly, and Jaemin actually lets out a laugh.
“Oh, I’ll be sure to deal with her, don’t worry.” His angry promise makes you sigh, and all you can do is respond in defeat.
“Jaem-” You begin, and you’re not given any time to decide how you want to continue as he cuts you off. Passion still courses through Jaemin’s body as he shakes his head, taking a break from clenching his jaw to speak again.
“She should know better than to lay a hand on my girl,” he argues, and now you absolutely know you need to get him to calm down.
“I’m not really your girl,” you state plainly, and if you weren’t already feeling deflated, you sure did now as you admitted that. Jaemin seems to react to your statement in much the same way, his features softening for a moment as he looked at you again, bringing a hand up to run through his hair in frustration; though this time, the frustration was aimed towards himself.
“I- I know. I’m sorry, I never should have asked you to do this for me. I was so selfish, goddammit,” he rambles under his breath absentmindedly as he begins to pace back and forth. You shake your head softly, reaching out to catch Jaemin’s wrist and force his movements to still.
“It’s fine, handsome,” you state firmly, and you watch as a million emotions run over Jaemin’s face, him just sucking on his bottom lip in hesitation. The hand that was previously caught in your grip comes up to cup your cheek again, his thumb lightly grazing your bruise as he studies you with a sad look on his face.
“No, angel,” he begins with a sigh. “It’s really not.”
You falter under his soft gaze and sure words, shaking your head as you fumble for words of your own. “It will be fine, then. Just let me lay low for a bit. I probably won’t be at lunch on Friday…I don’t necessarily need your friends seeing me beat up like this,” you try and laugh off.
Jaemin looks at you quizzically. “They wouldn’t-” He begins, but you cut him off with pleading eyes.
“Jaem, please,” you counter, and he just nods his head solemnly.
“Okay.” He lets out a breath before darting his gaze around from you to the rest of the living area, locking eyes with your backpack and giving him a reason to stay in your presence for a bit longer. “Can we do homework together?” He asks, and you lightly sigh as you nod your head, guiding his hand down from your cheek so you could instead head towards the couch and set everything up on the coffee table for the two of you.
Your main distraction from homework came in the form of whatever was on the television. Jaemin’s main distraction came in the form of you; he could hardly finish one part of an assignment without turning his head to look over at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he studied you softly, then whipping his gaze back to his laptop before you could ever feel his eyes on you. It was the least productive he's ever been.
Friday was the next time you saw Jaemin, when he came over as per usual for your ‘date nights.’ However, with you missing the friend group lunch for the second time this week, he immediately greeted you with a related request. “Hey, the guys miss you. They wanted to know if you were down for a movie night tomorrow,” he says casually as he closes the door behind him.
You turn to face him with a straight face. “Jaem, my black eye isn’t going to be-” You watch as Jaemin rolls his lips inward and dodges your eye contact, and all you can do is let out a heavy sigh. “You told them, didn’t you?” You ask instead, and Jaemin’s hidden lips reappear to form a weak don’t-be-mad grin. That is, until he meets your eyes again and lets out his own sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he resets his facial expression to something more casual again.
“They wanted to know where you were,” he says in defense. You watch as the memory of lunch replays behind his eyes and he tilts his head slightly as he looks at you with an anticipatory cringe in how you were going to respond as he continues. “…and now they’re all pissed and want to be there to make you feel better, too,” he finishes with a dorky smile, as though his full set of teeth would fix everything. Unfortunately, he was right about that, and all you can manage is a huff of laughter as you shake your head.
“Oh my. Sure, we can have a movie night,” you give in with a smile, and Jaemin lights up before pulling out his phone to text the group that the plans for tomorrow are a go. Then, your Friday night with Jaemin consisted of a large pizza, red wine, and board games.
That Saturday night, Jaemin came to pick you up and take you back to his apartment where the movie night was being held, insisting that Haechan could hold down fort as he came to pick you up…and that no boyfriend would let his girlfriend drive herself over to his place when he had a perfectly good truck and an excuse to kiss you under the porch light before joining all the guys; you told him he was an idiot, but he met that with a kiss on your cheek, claiming that you were the idiot for not taking a free kiss under the porch light with the Na Jaemin…a low blow considering the reason behind your bruising eye.
When you step inside his apartment, the rest of the guys silence mid-conversation, instead turning all of their attention to you. Their shoulders drop as your black eye comes into the light. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you turn into Jaemin’s chest, and he wraps his arms around you lightly with a warm laugh, kissing the top of your head before turning his attention to his friends. “I’m pretty sure you guys promised me you would be chill about this if she came over,” he states playfully, causing the rest of them to drop their heads with a small laugh of their own.
“Our fault for caring about her,” Jeno banters back, and all you can do is sigh and pull away from Jaemin’s chest, facing the rest of the group again. He was right, not about it being their fault, but for the fact that their frowns just meant they cared about you, and it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same way towards them - you’d frown, too if one of them walked in battered and bruised.
You roll your eyes playfully with a mellow shake of your head. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” you assure, turning your gaze to Jaemin before tossing your head side to side with a small smirk. “Besides, I’d say Jaem’s worth a punch or two.” The guys in front of you laugh but Jaemin furrows his brows.
“Or two?” He echoes worriedly, making you turn to him again with a soft, sure gaze.
“One,” you promise him and watch as a bit of relief washes over his figure, nodding his head as he takes it in.
“Um, you guys wanna watch Transformers?” Jisung speaks up awkwardly, shattering whatever tension you and Jaemin just created and instead making everyone chuckle.
Mark whips his head over to Jisung. “I thought we were watching Spider-Man…?” He adds sulkily. Jisung’s jaw drops, because apparently he had been looking forward to a Transformers marathon nonstop since the plans were made; but Chenle cuts off any chance of a response from him, instead just shaking his head rapidly.
“It doesn’t matter. Just choose anything before they take the pause in activity to make out,” he says as though he were horrified by the possibility, and Renjun lets out a sure laugh as he places a hand on Chenle’s shoulder.
“Still traumatized by the pda you asked for at that first lunch?” He asks, and Chenle looks at him with wide eyes.
“Can you blame me? So, they’re in a relationship…that’s great. Slightly cringe, but whatever. You know what’s not cringe? Spider-Man.”
“The Transformers!” Jisung corrects adamantly, getting everyone to laugh again.
“Sure, the Transformers,” Chenle agrees automatically, and Haechan rolls his eyes with a soft smile as he moves to set up the TV.
The eight of you got situated before another beat could pass. Mark on the recliner, Chenle and Jisung on the small couch, and then you, Jaemin, Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun taking up the big couch in the middle of the room. You cuddled easily into Jaemin as he threw an arm around your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the side of your arm.
For the group of you typically being a mess of chaos when you were all together, the eight of you somehow all followed the same unspoken rules when it came to movie night. There was no talking and, surprisingly, no one distracted by their phone. However, the peace of the perfect movie night was broken maybe twenty minutes into the first movie, when a chill ran through your body and the resulting shiver didn’t go unnoticed. “Do you want a blanket, y/n?” Mark asks softly. All at once, the guys whipped their heads towards him, furrowed brows adding to their glares at his disruption. That is, until it registers for them what Mark just asked, and all their gazes soften as they draw their attention to you in wait for your answer, Haechan pausing the movie entirely.
You let out a laugh under your breath, shaking your head at Mark with a grateful smile. “No, I’m okay,” you say quickly, trying to get everyone’s focus back on the movie because one shiver was not enough reason for concern. The guys all flash their eyebrows at your answer, immediately accepting it as they turn their attention back to the movie.
It isn’t long though before you shiver again, and while your attempt to cover it up was stellar, it wasn’t enough to get past the man holding you in his arms. Jaemin leans down so his lips are by your ear. “Go put on one of my hoodies,” he whispers slowly.
You shake your head minimally in response, eyes still trained on the Transformers. “I’m okay-” Your whispered words are cut off when the movie pauses, and you whip your head over to face Jaemin now, remote in hand and raised brows as he stares back at you seriously. A chorus of complaints erupt from the rest of the guys but Jaemin is only focused on you, and you can’t do anything but let out a light sigh. “Are you sure?” You ask, and Jaemin’s brows go from raised to furrowed.
“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure. You’re my girlfriend. Please go dig through my closet and wear my clothes,” he replies firmly, nodding his head now in the direction of his bedroom. You dodge any further eye contact with him as you instead slip out of his arms and towards his room. You don’t spend too much time in there, more than aware that they were all still waiting on you before unpausing the movie. You throw on the first hoodie you see, trying to ignore how much it smelled like him - how comforting it was to be wrapped in that scent.
You put on a straight face as you walk back out to the living room, though you begin to think it was unnecessary considering their reactions, or- Jaemin’s, at least. He immediately broke from the idle chatter he was having with Jeno as he instead locked his gaze on you, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. You fall shy under his gaze, looking around at the rest of the guys to see if you missed something before accepting the fact that it was just Jaemin who had the answers. “What?” You ask hesitantly, and it forces Jaemin to snap back to reality and collect himself.
He lets out something of a defeated laugh, shaking his head as he concludes his look up and down your body. “You should’ve been swimming in my hoodies for the past two months already,” he answers seriously, and suddenly your cheeks are on fire. You hide your face in your hands and the rest of the guys let fond grins paint their face at the interaction between the two of you. That was the first time it truly hit all of them that they were each about to lose $100 soon. Though it was hard for them to even be mad about it, because in everyone’s eyes but your own, Jaemin was whipped, and that was all they ever wanted for their best friend.
The group got through three movies before everyone started fading, eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. Renjun was the one to turn the lamp on at the side table beside him, putting everyone on the same page as they all got up from their seats and started getting ready to leave. Chenle is the first to say his goodbyes and head for the door, but as he places his hand on the knob, he whips back around. “Oh, wait!” He starts, louder than any of you were prepared for as you stare back at him in question. He shakes his head, the volume of his voice apparently even getting to him, but then he looks back at you all seriously. “I’m having my big New Year’s Eve party again. You’re all invited, obviously. I don’t know anyone’s plans after finals week, so I figured I’d just tell you now before we’re all in different places - if you wind up back at NCIT by December 31st, I’d love to have you, and if you wind up back at NCIT even earlier than that, please please please please please-”
“Chenle,” you all cut him off in unison, and he gives an awkward laugh.
“Please consider helping set up,” he says flusteredly. You all let out fond chuckles as you nod your head at the boy, and he lets a wide smile grace his features before finally opening the door and leaving with a soft ‘thank you.’
Dropping you off at your dorm, Jaemin fumbles for words before you can even open the door back to your place, and you turn around to pin all your attention on him instead as he speaks up awkwardly. “Uh- about Chenle’s party…”
“Yes, I’ll go. We said that would be our last day together so we might as well be…together,” you say, and Jaemin nods his head slowly.
“Okay; and for next weekend…?” He leaves the question at that and that’s when you realize you truly hadn’t given him much to plan with yet. You shake your head with a small laugh.
“We’ll leave Saturday morning for my parents’ house. I have finals up until Friday anyways. The big dinner you have to be there for is Saturday night, so you can do whatever you would like with your break after that.”
Jaemin processes the information with a distant expression before pulling it into a smile. “Alright, angel. Good luck with finals next week. I’ll be ready to go Saturday morning,” he says happily, and all you can do is match his smile.
“Good luck on your finals, too-” You start, but as you move to wrap him in one last hug, you catch sight of the hoodie covering your arms and jump back. “Oh! I’m still wearing your hoodie. Sorry-” You speak in a rush as you work to try and slip out of it, but Jaemin shakes his head.
“Don’t worry. Keep it,” he responds seriously, making you whip your head up at him and causing him to laugh. “It would be really suspicious if I came back home with the hoodie that I just said you looked cute in, and I’m not taking any chances with us so close to the three month mark now. Just don’t lose it…it’s my favorite hoodie.”
You let out a flustered laugh. “Well, are you sure you don’t want it back, then? Haechan is probably asleep already-” You reason as you start pulling one arm out of the hoodie again.
“Just keep it,” he cuts you off with a warm chuckle before continuing more somberly. “Our three months are almost up. I’ll get it back in no time.” If the words were bitter on his tongue, you didn’t notice. You were too preoccupied trying to neutralize your own emotions at the notion of this all ending soon.
You’re scared your voice would betray you if you opened your mouth again to speak, so instead you just nod your head, finally wrapping him in that goodbye hug and then turning to let yourself into your dorm.
Finals week somehow went by in a flash, and you’re scared to add up how many hours of it you spent in Jaemin’s hoodie. Though, the atypical schedule meant that you didn’t really have to worry about that - you only ever ran into Jaemin on campus for friend group lunches, and those were canceled this week since half of you would be in the middle of finals during the usual span of time; so, Jaemin never had to find out that you were practically living in the very same hoodie you had tried so hard to give back originally.
Come Saturday morning, that hoodie was packed with all of your other clothes in your suitcase, currently in the trunk of your car as you drive over to pick Jaemin up before heading to your house. He places his luggage next to yours before opening the passenger door and sliding in. “Hey, angel! Ready to pull all this off for your parents, too?” He asks with a devious smirk. You roll your eyes, trying to buy into the playfulness to forget about the dread filling your system at the idea of heading back home right now.
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Thank you again for agreeing to this,” you say seriously, and Jaemin looks at you as though you were crazy.
“Of course I’d agree to do this. Do you realize how much you’re doing for me?” He banters back, effectively getting you to laugh a bit as the tension in your shoulders drops. “Besides,” he continues more thoughtfully. “It’ll be nice to see our hometown again.” His words are much more mellow this time, and you look over at him with a sad grimace before shifting into drive and actually getting out on the road.
As soon as Jaemin went to college, his family moved to Jeju Island, and for as often as the two of you talked about traveling there one day, it was much less exciting of an idea when it was already Jaemin’s home base and it’d just be you traveling to visit him. Even outside of that, you knew he missed the city - moving away from everything you know is only nice if it’s your choice, and moving to Jeju was definitely not his choice.
It’s not like his relationship with his parents was impacted, though. He understood, and was very appreciative of the fact that they held out on the move until he graduated high school. Truly, if they were wanting to move, this was the time to do it. He’d graduate college and get his own place wherever he wanted; it’s just that now his place to go back to was Jeju rather than Seoul.
On the other hand, your family stayed put in the same house from childhood, but your relationship had gone through rough waters since you started college; something not even Jaemin knew, and now you were wondering how oblivious you could keep him of your current home-situation.
The verdict was ‘not very long.’ As soon as the two of you walked in your front door, your parents seemed shocked to be laying eyes on Jaemin with you. You push past them and towards your bedroom to put your stuff down, sending just a meek ‘hi’ their way. Jaemin watched you disappear with ample confusion, but his face quickly straightened up into a smile as he greeted your parents with hugs and gratitude for having him over.
Your mom pulls back from the hug with a look of disbelief, shaking her head solemnly. “Jaemin, it’s wonderful to see you. I apologize for not having a space set up for you to stay. To be honest, when y/n said she was bringing a guest home, the last thing we were expecting was for it to be a guy,” she laughs off, and Jaemin’s eyebrows immediately furrow. Your own muscles tighten as you move to close your bedroom door, deciding that was already enough for you to hear.
“Why?” Jaemin asks in return, trying to match the laugh from your mom, though his was half-hearted at best.
Your mom shrugs it off like it’s nothing new. “Well, you know our y/n…doesn't exactly have a lot going for her-”
“Y/n’s gorgeous, actually,” Jaemin cuts off with force, now taking a full step back from your mom and causing her hand to drop from where it was still at his forearm. “And sure, she has her guard up most of the time but that doesn’t change the fact that once she’s comfortable enough to be herself, she’s incredibly easy to love,” he continues, brows furrowed as he makes sure to get his point across.
Your mom passes her gaze from Jaemin to her husband, taking a moment to exchange strange smiles with him before turning back to Jaemin. “Sorry, I seem to have offended you. I didn’t know you cared about my daughter that much.” She speaks every word as though she’s only half serious, and all it does is frustrate Jaemin even more.
“Of course I care about her but that’s not even the point. You shouldn’t be saying that about your child and you used to know that, cause you never said anything like that when we were growing up. So, I don’t know what changed but I can tell you it wasn’t the worth of your daughter.” Setting all your stuff down, you open your bedroom door enough to catch his last sentence and immediately let out a heavy sigh, knowing you had to go out there and do something.
“Jaem?” You start, walking back out from the hallway. His face instantly changes from disgust to warmth as he snaps his head in your direction.
“Yeah, angel?”
You nod your head back towards where you just came from. “My room is still the same one it’s always been. Since we’re apparently bunking together, if you want to go put your stuff in there so you’re not carrying it around throughout the house, you know where to go,” you say casually, trying to make it seem as though the sleeping arrangements were all you caught of his conversation with your mom.
Jaemin nods with a tight smile. “Alright, I’ll be back in a second,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as he passes you in his walk to your room and you take his place with your parents in the living room. You and your mom both watch as your dad looks between the two of you before immediately leaving to go outside, shaking his head as he does so and leaving just you, your mom, and the suffocating tension in the room.
You drop your head to face the floor and your mom is the first one to speak. “I didn’t know he liked you,” she says plainly, eyes darting towards the room Jaemin was currently in before landing on you again, your head now whipped up to face her with raised brows.
“Didn’t know he liked me or didn’t think I was capable of having him like me?” You ask in return, and your mom falters for a moment.
“Y/n…” She starts, but you shake your head.
“Am I good enough now? Is this enough for you? That I brought an attractive guy home who cares about me? Are you even the tiniest bit proud of me now?” The fire in your eyes soon matches that of your mother’s, her disproving gaze that you knew so well baring into you.
“Y/n, that’s not fair and you know that,” she counters, her voice raising with every word.
Your jaw drops as you look at her in disbelief. “What’s not fair is you judging me by the man I do or do not have to hold my hand at any given time.” You’re thankful when the words come out firm; you’ve never stood up to her like this, and when your mom studies you with intensity, it’s as though she doesn’t know the woman in front of her this time.
“Well,” she breathes out, bringing her gaze back to your own. “Being with him has apparently given you some confidence…or a voice, at least.” Her tone borders between indifference and slight disgust, and all you can do is shake your head, unsure of how your relationship with your mom ever turned into this.
“I refuse to believe that you find an issue in the fact that he makes me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world,” you say in almost a plea for her to tell you it’s not true, but she never does; instead, it’s just Jaemin’s breath hitching in the hallway that he tries to cover up so you wouldn’t know he was listening. When neither you nor your mom turn your heads towards him, he realizes he was still under the radar. So, he prepares himself to walk back into the living room as though he just got done putting everything away in yours.
When he gets back by your side, he lightly kisses your temple, turning to face your mom as he sneaks a hand to rest on the small of your back; your mom stares at the physical contact and you think her eye actually twitches. Jaemin opens his mouth to start casual conversation back up but your mom cuts him off before he can even begin. “Your father and I are going out for the day. We will be back to cook dinner,” she states, and your eyebrows furrow immediately.
“You haven’t seen Jaemin in years and you’re just gonna leave right when he gets here?” You ask in shock, and your mom glares back at you.
“Dinner,” she replies sharply, and then she’s out the door.
Jaemin’s hand on your back begins to rub lightly up and down, and as you turn to bury your face in his chest, he wraps you in a full hug. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, and Jaemin shakes his head. With one hand, he lightly guides your chin up so that you make eye contact with him, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you.
“Nothing to be sorry for, angel. It’s all okay. How about we just watch TV or something, go outside maybe…what’s gonna destress you?” He asks, his hand that was underneath your chin maneuvering to instead caress your cheek.
You shrug, doing your best to dodge eye contact as you reply. “Anything in your presence,” you say seriously, missing the way warmth just reached every corner of Jaemin’s being at your words.
“Okay,” he responds surely, and that’s how you found yourself walking the streets of your hometown, hand-in-hand with Na Jaemin. You visited his old house, the old playground, anywhere you could before the cold air finally caught up to you and you had to retreat back inside for some hot chocolate and more Harry Potter from your last unfinished rewatch session.
Jaemin never brought up the obvious tension between you and your mom, something you were thankful for, but it also left you feeling guilty because you knew it was on his mind - the equation of where things went wrong between you and your mom after he left Seoul was continuously being worked out behind his eyes. When you explained this part of the fake-dating contract, he wasn’t expecting for your parents to actually be on your ass about not dating anyone, but stepping into this house was like a minefield, and any conversation around the topic turned into an explosion.
He wasn’t gonna make you talk about it though, you obviously weren’t ready to. Instead, he just wrapped his arms around you as best he could, making sure you and your cocoa were always kept warm throughout the duration of your latest movie marathon.
Surprising you, when it was finally dinnertime, the atmosphere was lighter by the tiniest bit. Your parents were engaging with Jaemin, at least, and the presence of other long-time family friends put you at ease, too, because you knew a big fiasco is the last thing your parents would allow to happen in front of others.
“Are you staying with us all of break?” Your mom asks as she puts her fork down and places all of her attention on Jaemin. He gives a sorry grin in return as he shakes his head.
“No,” he begins, and your face immediately drops, forcing you to take another bite so it’s less noticeable. “I was thinking I would surprise my parents. I haven’t seen them since the summer, and I figure that means it’s time to fly out and see them again,” he continues with a light laugh. “Though, when y/n asked me to come back with her for this dinner, I- well,” he drags off, taking a moment to turn and face you at his side, a fond smirk on his lips before he turns his head back to face his lap before you can notice. “I realize I’ve gotten incredibly bad at saying ‘no’ to her,” he finishes, his own light chuckle following his words.
Gazes soften all around the table as they listen to Jaemin, but you can’t bring your head up to look at him, sure the look in your eyes would give away how desperately you were wishing for those words to be real.
Your dad is the one to pick up the conversation again. “Well, we’ll be sad to see you go so soon, but it’s sure been a pleasure having you fill our house again,” he says with a tight nod that Jaemin reflects back to him, slightly softer in his perfect Jaemin way.
That night, you and Jaemin went to bed before the rest of the adults did, but they had the advantage of alcohol to keep them occupied, and while that option was technically open to you and Jaemin, you both decided it would probably be best to stay under the label of ‘innocent youth’ with your parents and family friends.
You walk back into your bedroom after washing your face and putting on pajamas to see Jaemin already laying down. You trace his outline underneath the covers and sigh when you realize how little room was left in your full size bed. You slip under the covers and begin to turn on your side so you could take up the smallest space possible, but Jaemin evidently has other plans as he reaches over and pulls you so that you’re laying against his chest. “What are you doing?” You ask, propping your head up on his chest as you stare at him in confusion.
He looks back at you as though there were no need for the question, his smirk playing lazily against his lips. “If you’re going to end up on top of me anyways, I’d rather just hold you there,” he replies, and all at once you’re vividly reminded of Halloween night. You don’t argue back, instead just rolling your eyes and resting your head back against his chest as you try to hide most of the blush on your cheeks.
Jaemin idly draws shapes on your back as he watches you fall asleep on him. He swallows awkwardly, remembering what your mother said about you…what you said to your mother, and a kind of frustration fills his chest. He listens for any signal that you were still awake, and when he finds none, he presses the lightest kiss to the top of your head. “You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he whispers. His mortification comes when he feels you tense under his hold.
“You don’t have to pretend when it’s just us, you know,” you whisper back, and his heart breaks in his chest. His tone is firm as he replies, because if you were going to be awake to hear him say that, he might as well get his point across.
“Some stuff I never had to pretend for. Some stuff is just a fact.”
You let out a heavy sigh, flipping which way your head was facing on his chest before speaking softly. “Go to bed, Jaemin,” you say, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the feeling of defeat that arose knowing you don’t believe him. He thinks about saying more but he figures now is not the time for it…that in your friendship, it may not ever be the time for it. So, he lets out his own light sigh, his grip around you going slightly tighter as he gets to work on actually falling asleep.
The next day, all you really had time for was breakfast before you had to drive Jaemin to the airport. As you pull up to the curb for departures, Jaemin doesn’t even think twice before leaning over the center console to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for dropping me off,” he says sincerely amidst the rustling of him gathering his bags from various spaces of your car. You laugh as you open your own door, sliding around to the back of your car to pop the trunk and grab his suitcase.
“I’m coming inside with you, you know?” You tease lightly, missing the way Jaemin’s eyes soften at the care before he quickly vetoes your carrying of his luggage and rips his suitcase from your grip, causing you to laugh some more as you turn to face him now at your side. “But, of course, it was no problem,” you say genuinely, stepping inside the airport with him and too quickly facing the security checkpoint where you’d finally have to split. “Have a safe flight,” you continue, and with each word he’s now taking a step further than you dare to. “Tell your family I said ‘hi.’”
Jaemin looks over his shoulder to smile back at you. “I will,” he promises firmly with a matching nod, and you throw a grin and final wave his way as he turns back to actually face where he was walking towards the entrance for security. As soon as you’re out of his line of sight, you allow your face to drop slightly alongside your gaze, letting out a light sigh at the feeling of him walking away from you. However, your attention is caught by the increasingly loud sound of heavy footsteps. You shift your gaze back in front of you to see Jaemin had changed his path and was instead heading straight for you again.
“Jaemin-?” You question, but you’re cut off the second he gets close to you because he wastes no time in dropping his bags, cupping your cheek with his hand, and pressing a sure kiss to your lips. You melted right into it, something you would have to kick yourself for later, but at the present moment, all you could think about was his soft lips still lingering against yours.
“I’ll see you in a week, okay?” He says in a near-whisper. His words weren’t so much a statement as they were a reassurance, like he needed you to know that all you had to bear without him was a single week, like he intended to never leave you again once he came back. All you can do is swallow awkwardly, nodding as you look up at him through your lashes.
“Yeah.”
Jaemin’s gaze roamed over your entire figure as best it could with the two of you still in close proximity. You wanted to press up on your tiptoes and kiss him again for the hell of it, or maybe for the comfort of it, but Jaemin is the one to take action first, simply running his thumb gently across your cheek with a small smile before immediately turning to grab his bags and actually make his way through the security checkpoint. All you can do is stand and watch helplessly as he walks away from you. You’d see him in a week, sure, but then it’d be New Years before you knew it and all of this would slip right out of your hands…it practically already had.
You were back at NCIT before Christmas, trading in family-time for time with Chenle, who was the only other one of your friends on campus for most of that duration. He tried to pretend that he needed to meet up with you to talk about plans for his New Year’s Eve party, but most of it was just excuses to hang out when he got lonely. One by one, the guys all made their way back to NCIT, Jaemin being the last to do so, coming in on the evening flight December 26th.
You had brought Chenle with you to go pick him up, mainly because Chenle begged you to let him tag along. The two of you stood at the baggage claim for maybe fifteen minutes, Jaemin’s hoodie adorning your figure and providing you with comfort amidst Chenle’s constant nagging that you guys should have brought a sign saying that Jaemin was coming back from prison or something else more embarrassing.
The baggage claim carousel had already begun spinning for Jaemin’s flight, and eventually even Chenle stops talking to instead join you in a frown as the two of you search for Jaemin. The verdict was that he must have just been the last person off the plane, because around five minutes later, you catch sight of his figure. “There he is- what’s he doing?” You ask confused as you look at Jaemin speed in your direction.
“Running towards you,” Chenle answers as if it were the most casual occurrence ever. He tosses his gaze over to you with raised eyebrows before continuing. “And I think you should probably start running towards him unless you’re prepared to catch his weight, cause I’m pretty sure he’s ready to jump on you.”
Your eyes go wide at his words as you shake your head. “God, having a lunatic boyfriend is a lot of work,” you respond, feigning exhaustion. Chenle throws his arms up in defense.
“Hey, you chose him, not me,” he quips, making you smile before realizing you really had to start on your run towards him, because of all the things you were prepared for, catching Jaemin’s weight was not one of them.
You take off from where you and Chenle were standing, running up and meeting Jaemin somewhere in the middle as he lets go of his carry-on and puts his arms out for you. “Jaem!” You exclaim, jumping into his arms and wrapping around him like a koala.
“Angel!” He replies just as enthusiastically; hugging you tightly and spinning around once with the momentum.
“Chenle’s here so you have to kiss me,” you whisper in a rush, cupping his cheek with your hand as Jaemin steadies himself again.
He lets out a genuine laugh, catching your gaze with the brightest of smiles in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t gonna run all this way towards you for nothing,” he says surely. Then he presses his lips to yours, and the resulting warmth in your body should’ve made the snow outside impossible.
Jaemin breaks away from you when he feels a tug on his shirt sleeve, and the two of you turn to make eye contact with Chenle. “You’re being cringe now, can you please take me home?” He asks plainly, making you and Jaemin laugh as he puts you down on the solid ground again, slipping his hand in yours as the next best option. Then, after making sure Jaemin had all of his things, the three of you were on the road back to NCIT.
The next day, Jaemin and the guys went out for lunch, one you weren’t invited to because it was one you “couldn’t know about.” Sitting around the table in a perfect reflection of the start of the semester, the guys around Jaemin all wore a mixture of looks on their faces, ranging from impressed to sulky…though that last one was only Chenle, who despite having the most money in the group, hated giving it out.
Mark is the one to finally address the reason they were all there. “Well, you did it. I’m sure we don’t need to be the ones to tell you that you’ve been dating y/n for three whole months now,” he says with a light laugh. Jaemin can’t bring himself to join in on the smiles and playfulness around the table.
“I can’t believe it’s been three months already,” he says hollowly, but both his tone and the distant look in his eyes go unnoticed by his friends, their tunnel vision on their childish bet covering over Jaemin’s anguish at winning.
“Here’s your $600,” Haechan says after having collected everyone’s shares from around the table. “Can't wait to have a new PS5 in our apartment,” he quips, but Jaemin whips his head up at him, grabbing the $600 from his hands defensively.
“I’m not spending it on a PS5…” He begins, dragging off as the fire dies from his tone and he returns to a contemplative state of being. “I’m gonna buy y/n something nice.”
Gasps are heard from quite literally everyone else at the table, all of them looking at Jaemin with wide eyes. “Really?” Jeno asks in disbelief, and Jaemin makes passing eye contact with all of his friends, giving them all odd looks for being so caught off guard.
“Yes, really. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me, and I don’t know how to give her the world, but I can at least get her the best that $600 will buy,” he explains surely, and the rest of the guys all exchange glances with each other before turning back to him, Renjun being the one to take a jab this time through a hesitant laugh.
“Are we still talking to Na Jaemin?” He asks, making the rest of the guys laugh as well. Jaemin just lets out a sigh, finally able to find a bit of humor as well as he shakes his head, tucking the money away and turning the afternoon into a regular lunch hang out.
Two days later, you get a call from Jaemin sometime after dinner.
“Angel?” He says softly once you pick up, his tone making you smile on the other end.
“Yeah, handsome?” You respond warmly.
“Wanna go on a drive?” Jaemin asks, giving away no hints as to his current state of emotions, and your eyebrows furrow as you pry more.
“No destination?” You ask, and Jaemin shakes his head, not that you were able to see it anyways. His response is sharp.
“No.”
“Everything okay?” You question, the warmth in your tone turning into concern.
“Yeah,” Jaemin responds immediately. You let a beat pass in silence and it’s enough for Jaemin to want to fill it again on his own. “Just want some more time with you,” he explains shyly, and you let out a small breath of laughter as you oblige.
“Let me get my shoes on.”
“I’ll be there to pick you up in five,” he replies firmly before immediately hanging up.
True to his word, it only took five minutes before you’re opening the door to Jaemin. “Hey,” he says as soon as you make eye contact, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.
“Hey,” you reply, your face hurting as you try not to smile too widely at his actions. Jaemin wouldn’t have noticed if you did, though, because he immediately turns to face the floor sheepishly.
“Sorry if you were in the middle of something,” he finally says, making you furrow your brows at him - this wasn’t a Jaemin you were used to.
“Nothing that couldn’t wait,” you assure him before prying some more. “What’s up?”
Jaemin pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he shakes his head hesitantly. “Nothing. It’s just our last few days together. Figured we could hang out before you go off and get an actual boyfriend and I-” You watch as he fumbles for words, eventually giving up with a shrug as he finally makes eye contact with you again. “Go back to doing whatever it is I do.”
His answer doesn’t relieve you of any worry, and you move a hand up to cup his cheek as you tilt your head in study of him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jaemin nods his head slightly against your hand, a fond smile at your touch replacing the distant expression he previously held. “There’s just a lot on my mind. Nothing for you to worry about. Just wanted to hang out with you and kind of escape it all for a bit,” he explains casually, eventually bringing both hands up to guide your own back down from his face, idly playing with your fingers as he asks his next question. “Do you still like cloud watching?”
“You know I do,” you reply with a laugh, and Jaemin finally bares his teeth as he smiles back at you. He checks to make sure you actually did put your shoes on already before switching his grip so that he was just holding your hand as he walked the two of you to his truck.
You ended up at one of those nature parks, where the fields are preserved for fields-sake rather than playgrounds. The two of you got out and made your way around to the tailgate of his truck and you register that he already had blankets and pillows in the back, completely reminiscent of high school.
You both sat in silence for a while, staring up at the sky and giving yourselves a chance to be at peace, at least somewhere away from the false sense of urgency that always seemed to be around. Eventually, you move your gaze from the clouds above to where your arms were wrapped around your knees, debating with yourself before finally breaking the silence.
“Jaem?” You call softly, and he turns all of his attention towards you.
“Yeah, angel?” He replies in much the same manner. You dart your tongue out to lick your lips, anything you could do to prolong your question - which you were currently thinking should’ve lost in your inner debate.
You finally let out a sigh, still focused in front of you as you talk. “You know you’re much more than the image you’ve picked up around campus, right?”
Jaemin’s face immediately whips back to the front so there would be no chance of making eye contact with you. “Um…” He begins, but that was the only word he could come up with before forfeiting with an awkward swallow. You know that means it’s up to you to continue.
“I know that day I first met your friend group, you had to make up a ton of stuff on how we got together and everything, but I don’t know if you were necessarily lying when you were talking about how I deserve better than getting tied into your fuckboy image. I just- wanna make sure you know, in case that has ever been your thought process for anyone you’ve had a crush on, that there’s so many more sides to you than that. An image is an image, okay? Don’t let it get to you.” Your courage is built with every word and you finally turn to face Jaemin as you continue softly, surely. “They don’t know you like I do.”
Jaemin’s lips part with a heavy exhale before he rolls them inwards in hesitation. “Do you mean it?” He finally asks, and there’s just a trace of sadness riddling his voice.
“Of course I do,” you say firmly, and Jaemin takes in your answer with a slow nod.
“It’s been hard. I-” He grimaces before letting out an awkward laugh. “Oh, this is kind of weird to talk about with you,” he continues, making you laugh, too as the atmosphere lightens.
“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s me.”
Surprisingly, that seemed to do it, because the tension in Jaemin’s shoulders falls as he lets out a light sigh and finally finds his words for what seemed to be the first time that night. “I used to not care. If they wanted to label me as a fuckboy, that was fine. Truthfully, if I was getting my dick wet, I was good-” He cuts himself off at the sound of a slightly louder exhale than normal from you, and he whips his head your way with a pout. “Don’t laugh, I’m being vulnerable.”
You stare back at him with a fond smile on your face and raised brows. “I’m not laughing,” you assure, and Jaemin turns to face his knees again as he accepts your denial of the claim without a fight. Then he starts back up with his explanation, his tone heavy and contemplative.
“Lately though, I’ve just been thinking I want so much more out of life. But, I spent so long under the fuckboy label I didn’t know if I would ever be able to break free from it, if I could ever be more.”
Your gaze on him softens but your eyebrows furrow; there was something so weird about knowing he’s never viewed himself in the way you do. “Na Jaemin, you’ve always been more,” you respond firmly. The lightest of exhales escapes as laughter from Jaemin, and he lets a weak smile play at his lips before responding.
“And you’ve always felt like home…” He says, matching your tone as he finally turns to look at you again. “That’s another thing I wasn’t lying about that day.”
You immediately dodge eye contact, knowing it’d reveal to him in milliseconds your real emotions towards all of this…towards him. Probably against your better judgement as well, you lean into him at your side, resting your head against his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’ve had a nice three months with you,” you say, your own weak grin making an appearance.
“Yeah,” he agrees, wrapping his arm around you casually. “It hasn’t been too bad, has it?”
There it was, the reason you needed to snap out of it, because for Jaemin, it just wasn’t ‘too bad,’ and meanwhile you’ve been over the moon these past three months. You’d come to your senses eventually - remember that ‘breaking up’ was the plan all along, that the last thing Jaemin wanted was to be in an actual relationship, and that you were going to have to be as okay with that as ever. However, for now, you figured you’d just lean into him a bit more while you still can.
The next day saw all eight of you at Chenle’s place, helping him decorate and prepare for the big party, and then it was New Year’s Eve. Only you and Jaemin knew that it was your last night together before the ‘break up;’ and neither of you knew that the other didn’t want it to ever end, meaning when you placed Jaemin’s hoodie in his backseat as a way to return it before the party, you didn’t know the idea of giving it back nauseated him possibly more than it did you. As such, the air was tense and awkward between the two of you, trying to keep hidden how devastated you knew you were going to be at the end of the night, and too dumb to realize the best thing you could do is talk about it.
Hand-in-hand with Jaemin, the two of you join the rest of your friend group, already standing around in a circle somewhere on the outskirts of the set up dance floor. They greet the two of you with bright smiles, none of them plagued with the knowledge that their favorite relationship was ending tonight. However, with the eight of you chatting about anything imaginable, the night became incredibly casual, despite the overwhelming amount of people flooding in around you all.
Eventually, the group divides up, deciding a range of different activities sounded best for the time being. You ended up with Chenle and Jisung, the three of you indulging in the indoor s’mores kit that was set up. Jaemin never moved from where the big group of you originally were. Instead, he let the crowd all pass around him as he stayed focused on you, gaze aimed in your direction with a fond smile as he watched you interact with his friends.
The only thing to break him from his staring is when Mark taps him on the shoulder and hands him a cup of water. “Man, I hope you know you’ve turned into a completely different person,” he says as he does so, making Jaemin furrow his brows in question; though Mark shakes his head as though it were no big thing. “You got this glow about you that scares me, and the look in your eyes when you’re staring at her…I didn’t think I’d ever see that from you - you know, being so against relationships and everything,” he ends with a light laugh.
Jaemin drops his head, his own laugh escaping his lips. “It’s just what happens when you’ve found your person, I guess,” he replies seriously. “I mean, to me?” He begins, finally looking up at Mark in sincerity before throwing his gaze your way. “For her?” He shakes his head, his smile turning into a dumb grin on his face as he finally admits to what’s been on his mind for three months. “Everything’s worth it. All the risk, all the effort, I’d do anything for her.” He looks your way once more before his gaze turns distant and he lets a grimace slip across his features. “It just took being with her to make me realize…I want to believe in love,” he finally says, meeting Mark’s eyes once again.
Mark’s smile was painted widely across his face, though he stared at his best friend in something like disbelief. “Want to believe it? Jaemin, you’re in it,” he says firmly, and Jaemin immediately lets his gaze fall to his feet as he lets out a heavy sigh.
“It’s less scary than I thought it’d be,” he finally says, and Mark’s smile turns fond as he gets a glimpse at how his best friend operates. He puts on his best voice of comfort as he replies.
“You said it yourself, it’s what happens when you’ve found your person. You should tell her,” he says, tossing his head in your direction casually, but Jaemin’s muscles tense up.
“No, I can’t,” he says in a rush, and Mark lets out a laugh.
“From the one who says he isn’t scared,” he teases, but Jaemin shakes his head - it wasn’t that.
“I- it’s a weird situation,” he says, letting out a huff with his bad explanation. “I can’t tell her. Not tonight, anyways…she won’t want to hear that from me,” he concludes, dragging off miserably. Mark’s face completely flips as he stares at Jaemin quizzically.
“But- she looks at you the same way, you know?” He says surely, but Jaemin shakes his head again.
“No, that’s just how she looks at me. Even when we were in high school.” He takes a moment to pause, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips before continuing with conviction. “No, she doesn’t love me. Not like this,” he says, and then he’s walking away, leaving a very confused Mark standing there with parted lips.
“...I thought she’s liked you since high school,” he says under his breath now that he knew there was no way Jaemin would hear anyways. He looks between you and Jaemin before shaking his head - the last thing he needed on New Year’s Eve was to engage in overthinking.
You had just broken away from where you were talking with Chenle and Jisung to instead make your way over to the punch table. Grabbing yourself a glass, when arms wrap around you in a hug from behind, you know the only person it could be. “Hey, handsome,” you say with a smile, turning your head to the side to try and lay eyes on him.
“Hi, angel,” Jaemin replies, taking the opportunity to place a small kiss on your cheek before continuing. “Are we kissing at midnight or are we ending things before then? I’m not sure if you want to start the new year with me or not.” His tone borders on defeat, and you turn around in his arms to stare at him with raised eyebrows and a playful smirk.
“I’ll be your new year's kiss if you’ll be mine,” you reply, and Jaemin lets out a small chuckle. “Besides,” you continue more seriously. “Ending this doesn’t mean you aren’t still my best friend. You’ll be a part of my new year no matter what. We can kiss and just pretend that was our way to say ‘bye’ to dating, cause you know, I guess it will be.” For a moment that you always knew was coming, admitting its near occurrence now felt like you just had the wind knocked out of you. Jaemin just stares down at you with a wide grin, nodding his head along to your words in approval.
“Alright best friend, then I’ll make sure to find you again before midnight,” he replies, the entire thing making you swallow awkwardly as you nod your head back at him slightly.
“Yeah…” You respond in something like a whisper, and with one light kiss on your forehead, Jaemin vanishes again into the crowd.
The rest of the New Years party was a blast, no doubt, but the knowledge of what was coming, or more so ending, plagued your thoughts and eventually you just needed to slip away from the rest of the noise. You ended up on the balcony attached to some random bedroom, the cool air something of a relief for your current state.
The only pull back into reality was when the ever-present loudness turned into synchronized cheers, and you catch as the entire party starts counting down from fifteen seconds. You whip around to start on your rushed journey back inside, realizing you never told Jaemin where you would be; but as you turn, you make eye contact with him, just stepping onto the balcony himself, an easy smile crossing his features. “No need to rush. I told you I’d find you before midnight,” he says with a light laugh, and you drop your head with a small exhale as your own form of laughter. “Ready to say ‘bye’ to all this pretending?” He asks, stepping up to where he was directly in front of you.
No. “Yep,” you respond with the best fake smile you could. You already made it this far with no problems, you refused to let it slip that your heart was fully in this right when it was about to end.
Jaemin matched your smile, and as the crowd’s counting reached the ‘3, 2, 1,’ his hand came up to find its favorite spot at your cheek again. Then he leaned in and kissed you right as the party erupted with cheers of ‘Happy New Year.’
Your hands gripped tightly at his shirt, keeping you steady and keeping him close to you; though he wasn’t necessarily going anywhere with one hand cupping your cheek and the other placed firmly on your waist. Unlike any of your other kisses, this one…lingered. The two of you kept steady pace with each other, you gently sucking on his bottom lip and figuring for as long as he’d let this go on, you would take it for all it was worth, trying to pretend you could ever kiss him enough for a lifetime.
When you think he’s breaking away, you’re instead met with the feeling of his tongue running across your top lip, asking for permission - permission all too easily granted by you as you open your mouth to let him explore. Your New Year's kiss turned into a greedy make out session, which was probably the last thing you were expecting, but you couldn’t take the time to question it because you were too busy drowning in his taste. You loved the taste of Jaemin on your tongue, and his own soft moan - which he tried so desperately to cover up but that you still very much heard, let you know he was currently feeling the same way; and you’d mark that down as a tiny win in the midst of the huge loss you were about to incur.
Against your better judgement, you finally break away when you truly couldn’t breathe anymore, and Jaemin rests his forehead against yours. The air was just filled with the sound of panting as the two of you tried to catch your breaths. You swallow awkwardly once you do, taking a small step back as you process what just happened, Jaemin’s hand running down your body until you were no longer in reach. “You’re awfully good at ‘goodbye,’” you say in between breaths.
Jaemin immediately dodges your gaze, facing somewhere off to the side as his adam's apple bobs up and down. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he responds quietly, to the point where you were practically just reading his lips, and then he’s gone, leaving you alone on the balcony to deal with your flooding emotions on your own…not that you could do so in his presence anyways.
You hated that it hurt this much - that a goodbye you knew was coming still seemed to blindside you. You had allowed your heart to indulge in his every romantic gesture, and while on the surface you knew they meant nothing, you held onto hope in some deep dark corner of your heart that maybe it wasn’t all just pretend; and yet here you were, grouped in with the vast category of girls he’s said ‘goodbye’ to in the way he knew all too well. You were his best friend but you were no one special, and you didn’t expect the resurgence of a fact that you already knew to affect you as much as it did - to make it feel as though you had been hollowed out, bones chilled from the empty space your soul used to occupy.
You and Jaemin weren’t in contact the entire first day of the new year, though you couldn’t complain because talking to him right away was not something you figured your heart could handle. Instead, you went to work out at the gym and run errands and all those other things people do when they’re single and making a point to say they’re okay with that. To be fair, it kind of worked. Not that you were okay with whatever you and Jaemin had gotten yourselves into coming to an end, but that day of productivity and endorphin-inducing activity helped you ground yourself - these past three months were you helping out your best friend, that was all it was ever supposed to be.
The next day was far less productive, but you were still functioning like normal. The only disruption from your typical daily routine came with a phone call from Haechan. As soon as you pick up, he starts speaking.
“Why did you go and break Jaemin’s heart all of the sudden?” He asks angrily.
You furrow your brows, though it wasn’t like he could see it anyways. “What do you mean? The breakup was mutual,” you counter in confusion, and Haechan lets out an actual ‘HA’ in disbelief before he replies with animosity.
“I need to know what the hell your definition of ‘mutual’ is because Jaemin hasn’t stopped crying for the past twenty-four hours.”
You think he’s kidding, like this is one last stupid test of whether your relationship ever added up - but you shake the idea away, he already got the money, it was a week past three months, there wasn’t anything for you to mess up now, the story you’ve been telling would work as it always had. “Crying? What? We both agreed we worked better as friends,” you reply instantly, confusion adequately painting your voice.
Haechan cannot believe his ears, and he makes sure to let you know so. For as much as you were confused, he didn’t understand why you were acting this way, ten fold. “No, I don’t believe you at all now. He wouldn’t agree on that. I don’t know how Jaemin talked to you, but he talked about you as though he’s never held anyone’s hand before until he held yours. Y/n, it was like you were the one to put every star in his night sky, I swear there’s no way this breakup was mutual.” Your whole world stops and you go speechless on the other end. Haechan was being dead serious, or else he wouldn’t be angry, he wouldn’t be pushing the subject. His words turn over and over again in your head. Jaemin talked about you, evidently when you weren’t around. You were fake-dating and yet Jaemin went out of his way to speak of you fondly to his friends. Jaemin, who never saw the point of getting romantically attached like that, doing more than what was needed in expressing his feelings about you. You push down the feeling of nausea and instead let out a deep sigh.
“I’ll be over in five minutes,” you say quietly, and then you hang up the phone before ever getting a reply from Haechan.
You race over to their apartment, and before you could even knock, Haechan is swinging the door open for you. The two of you make eye contact and about a million emotions pass between you, but it was easiest to pick up on the uncertainty. Haechan opens his mouth as if he’s about to bombard you with questions, or maybe yell at you again…you weren’t sure, but instead he just lets out a breath, nodding his head back in the direction of Jaemin’s room with a soft, “in there.”
You throw a thankful smile his way, not that you were necessarily guessing at where Jaemin could be, but you were very grateful he was letting you off so easily. Even by looking at Haechan, you could tell Jaemin had truly been crying for the past twenty-four hours…Haechan looked exhausted.
You lightly tap on the door of Jaemin’s room before entering, breath hitching as you lay eyes on his figure, curled up in a ball and clad in his favorite hoodie that you had given back - the hoodie he now knew you had lived in for the past few weeks because he already caught your own scent on it. Tears raced down his face, and he immediately turned away from you to hide them as he squeaked out choked words.
“Please go away,” he says, and reality hits you all at once. It wasn’t like you thought Haechan was lying, but now you truly had to face the fact that you were the cause of Jaemin’s tears; he wanted you to go away.
“Jaemin, I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly, shaking your head to emphasize the point. Though, as you do so, your gaze catches onto a gift bag on his dresser, a label with your name written on it in his stupid perfect handwriting.
You walk up to it, swallowing hesitantly as you turn your attention from the bag to Jaemin and back again. “What is this?” You finally ask. Jaemin shoots his gaze your way, not having previously realized what had caught your intrigue.
“Please don’t-” He rushes to say, but in the pause, you had already pulled out a diamond necklace, holding it gently between your shaking hands. You shake your head, eyes wide and jaw dropped as you’re unable to form a coherent thought. You turn back around to face him, your gaze darting every which way because you’re not sure you can confidently hold eye contact with him.
“Jaemin, what-? Why is this in a gift bag labeled for me-? When did you-?”
He cuts you off, visibly annoyed. “It’s what I used the bet money on. Now please go away,” he demands more firmly, but you wouldn’t be able to follow through on it even if you wanted to, because as you process his words, you lose the ability to move.
“You spent the $600 on this?” You ask in disbelief, turning your attention fully towards him to try and find any cue that he was lying. “On me?”
Jaemin turns his head to the side, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs up and down with an awkward swallow. When he finally answers, his voice has lost its tension, his words instead coming out as though he were ashamed. “$700,” he corrects. “I didn’t want it to feel like I was just gifting you something from the guys.”
You think you’ve gone crazy, or maybe Jaemin has, but all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. “I-”
He quickly finds his fire again, apparently having had enough embarrassment for a lifetime in those few seconds. “Please leave,” he spits out. He dares look up to make eye contact with you before immediately regretting his decision and staring back down at his bed again, wiping more stray tears from his eyes as he fumbles out his next words. “You can take the necklace if you want but just- please leave.”
“Jaem-” You say softly before he can cut you off.
“What?!” He quips, though when he shoots his gaze back to you in irritation, he realizes you’re no longer standing at his dresser, but sitting at the edge of his bed with him. Your fingers barren of the necklace, you instead occupy one hand by placing it on top of his own.
“You could’ve told me you fell for me, too,” you say seriously, and Jaemin stops breathing for a moment as he looks up at you with wide teary eyes.
“Too?” He echoes weakly, and all you can do is give a tight smile, moving a hand up to wipe under his eyes as you try to hold back your own tears.
“I refuse to believe I played off my huge crush on you since high school that well.” You reply with a hoarse laugh.
Jaemin finally recovers his ability to breathe as he lets out a heavy exhale. “You like me?” He asks through tears, and you finally break, having to wipe your own stupid tears off your face before nodding at him with an embarrassed smile.
“I always have. Why do you think I made all those stupid rules to try and make sure we acted like a couple as little as possible?” A bittersweet laugh gets caught in your throat as you think back on it. “If I had to listen to you call me cute names all the time, I wouldn’t have survived knowing it was eventually going to end,” you continue seriously.
Jaemin’s finally able to let out a bashful smile and sorry laugh. “...I called you cute names all the time anyways.”
You nod your head with a fond smile. “I know.”
“I couldn’t help it,” he explains as more tears rush down his face, though this time, they’re at least sliding down next to an embarrassed grin.
You look at him with playful raised eyebrows. “Just like how you couldn’t help it when you kissed me every time you saw me? Or looked over at me super fondly?”
Jaemin softens as his eyes trace over your figure, the distant look in his gaze letting you know his mind was rather preoccupied with reliving the past three months. “Exactly like that,” he says lowly, and you let out a breath, forcing your gaze away from Jaemin as you instead focus on the way your fingers were idly fidgeting with each other.
“God, Jaem. I’m sorry. I should’ve realized-” You speak apologetically but Jaemin cuts you off again.
“No, I should’ve communicated. Well…” He lets another soft laugh leave his system, the tears finally drying on his face as he works towards fully collecting himself. “I should’ve communicated when you knew I was serious.”
You smile at his words, shaking your head again as you relive every moment of the fake relationship. “I didn’t even know you had time to catch feelings for me,” you begin with something like wonder in your tone. “I mean- weren’t you still hooking up with-”
When Jaemin cuts you off this time, it’s with the most flustered of cheeks and the weakest of laughs. “Um, about that…the very first girl I hooked up with after we added that rule-” He shakes his head with a small smile as he corrects himself. “Well, I say that…she was also the last girl I hooked up with.” Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you process the information, but Jaemin doesn’t give you much time to do so before throwing in another wrench. “I uh- accidentally moaned your name.”
Your head whips in his direction, your wide eyes straining against your dropped jaw. “Jaemin! You did not!”
“Why would I make that up?!” He quips back with a hearty laugh. You move a hand over your gaping mouth, unsure at what exactly you were supposed to do with this news. You shake your head in disbelief.
“Oh my god, what did she do?” You ask, curiosity dripping from your voice. Jaemin bites on the inside of his cheek before giving in again with a light sigh.
“Well, we immediately stopped because we were both mortified, I think. She said something about how I obviously had to go figure some things out, to which I agreed, but for different reasons than she thought…” He drags off a bit but instead just shakes his head and goes in a different direction. “I practically begged her not to say anything about it, but she laughed and said I was crazy if I thought she was going to tell that story and humiliate herself,” he finishes with a small chuckle, and you just stare at him with no less shock than before.
“I can’t believe this,” you manage to get out playfully.
Jaemin flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement before his eyes light up and he rushes through more words. “Oh! The best part is, a week or so later, she saw us holding hands in public and texted me saying that she’s rooting for us,” he recalls with a shiteating grin.
“Stop!” You get out, the idea of it damn near killing you. Though, before you can end up dying of laughter with Jaemin, another piece of information fits itself into the puzzle and you come back to your senses in seriousness.
“Wait wait wait,” you begin, focusing your gaze fully on Jaemin again. “So, you’ve been celibate for like…three months now?” You ask in shock. Jaemin isn’t even the tiniest bit regretful as he responds with a shrug, his sincere gaze meeting your own.
“I only wanted you. Wasn’t going to waste mine or anyone else’s time pretending any different.”
Your gaze softens immediately as a fond smile plays against your features. “Jaem…” You aren’t necessarily sure where you were going from there, but Jaemin picks it up anyways with a small shake of his head; his own weak smile making an appearance again as he recounts those first few moments.
“You kissed me that first day and I assumed I was fucked,” he explains casually. “Everything felt like it changed, and not because it was affection but because it was you.” His cheeks puff out again with a bigger grin as he continues. “Then I had that slip up and I knew I was fucked. Couldn’t get you out of my head for even a moment. It was starting to drive me crazy how much I wanted to make you happy.”
His eyes meet yours again as he finishes, and you search them for answers you knew you would have to ask for. “A good crazy?” You question hesitantly, but Jaemin is quick to shut down any worries.
“The best,” he assures, moving his hands so that he could interlace them with yours. He moves his gaze from your physical contact back up to your face before continuing seriously. “I love you, y/n.”
You swallow hard, trying to not let any more tears run down your face, albeit happy tears weren’t so bad. You squeeze his hands in yours as you nod your head. “I love you, too.”
“Can we date for real?” He immediately asks, his wide pleading eyes making you chuckle.
“It’s been ‘for real’ for a while now,” you say warmly, but Jaemin shakes his head, not having it.
“Yeah, but we’re currently broken up if you don’t remember. The entire reason you’re over here is because I couldn’t stop bawling my eyes out…which was the worst feeling in the world, by the way,” he banters back with a weak laugh. You let a grimace cross your face before pulling it into a fond smile.
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll never break up with you again,” you assure him softly. Jaemin doesn’t hide his wide smile as he shifts himself so he can easily lean in and kiss you softly, resting his forehead against your own as he pulls back to smile against your lips.
Summary — Everyone online seemed to think that you were Manon’s girlfriend. And sometime down the line—she started to wonder what it would be like to be loved by you.
Content Warnings — A tad bit of angst but ends with comfort, hopelessly in love reader, smut with plot (18+), dom Manon, inexperienced reader, friends to lovers, voyeurism, praise kink, overstimulation kink, choking, jealous Manon, reader is the soft masc who wears makeup and stuff like that, Manon likes being called Mami <3
Authors Note — I have so many ideas in my head for her and just can’t help but write as many as I can think of. I love this woman and need that so badly. I HOPE YOU’RE OKAY MANON MY LOVE !!!
This “____,” indicates your name. No Y/n.
—
There was music blasting throughout the hotel suite room that the girls were sharing tonight, Manon, Daniela and Lara dancing however they wanted. They were currently on a Weverse live which was always one of those chaotic times that their fans loved. It was Lara the first to sit back down, Daniela and Manon still behind her dancing their hearts out. They were doing all kinds of funny things, singing songs, dancing to random music, playfully hitting each other when the other didn’t agree to something. It was a funny sight to see, one that would be all over TikTok.
Lara was reading all the comments, her fingers threading through her hair and her face a little close to the camera to see what they were saying. And of course they were talking about ____, they always did when Manon was in the live.
____’slover : Where is ____?!?!?!
Manonspeanutbutter : Manon you look so good!!
Daniwanny : I wonder if ____ is in the live?
Laraswettshirt : Lara just one chance please!
____’sbiggestfan : Tell ____ to drop a album!
Lara’s eyes scanned as many comments as she could, her voice breaking the chaotic dancing once she said, “They want to know where ____ is, Manon.” That made Manon instantly stop dancing, Daniela as well, both girls taking their spots beside Lara and reading the comments to see that a lot of people were in fact asking about her. Daniela and Lara both saw the way Manon practically lit up, Lara turning to Manon to see her practically unfolding right before their very eyes. To think anyone could make Manon fold was beyond belief, because she was the one that usually made other people do that.
Manon adjusted her hair as she spoke, “____’s either at the studio or she’s in bed sleeping.” The other girls beside her nodded their heads in agreement, the comments still asking about her. “Y’all I haven’t seen her in a while dude, like I feel like I’m going crazy.” Manon told the eyecons, which made Lara and Daniela look at her with a smug look. “Like—these two won’t cuddle with me and then when ____’s here, she cuddles me like a baby and—ughhhh—I need that.” She dragged those last few words out, making it dramatic which definitely was noticed by the other two girls that were currently in the live with her.
Daniela looked at the screen and said, “I swear I think they got married behind our backs or something.” The way the comments started getting faster should’ve been absolutely impossible, they could hardly read it until Daniela saw one comment that asked her why she says that. “Literally—look ____ already has Manon’s first name tatted on her neck—“ You could hear the laugh come from Lara, Manon just sitting there like she didn’t care, “They also have like these matching rings that neither of them take off! Tell me they’re not married?!” Daniela practically squealed, her smile as bright and vibrant as the sun.
“I’ve been meaning to ask that, Manon—“ Lara began, her head turned to Manon who was now looking at her. “Why did she get your name tattooed on her? And in the most visible area too.” They didn’t find it to be a problem, everyone actually thought it was cute how much ____ cherished their friendship in such a deep way. But tattooing her name on her was a permanent commitment and the ink wasn’t red, so it wouldn’t be easy to cover up at all.
Manon sat back and looked at the camera, “Y’all know she’s one of my best friends. She asked me what she should get tatted on her and she couldn’t figure it out so I told her to let it be anything that meant something to her. After she got it she was like, ‘I just finished the tat Meret, you wanna see?!’ And she showed up with my name on her neck.” The comments were indeed going crazy, going faster than holy heck. “But it looks so tea so I don’t mind it. She looks so good with it.” Manon complimented, her eyes staying fixated on the camera, completely missing the way Daniela and Lara gave each other that knowing look.
Daniela tapped Manon and gained her attention, “So basically you are married?” She asked, Manon opening her mouth to say something which Daniela cut off. “No cause that’s like relationship goals and stuff—it does look good I won’t lie, but it’s like funny how you’re not phased by it at all.”
Lara pointed at Manon and continued talking for Daniela, “No but for real. Every-time Manon goes to post ____ on her story, she always has to show her neck tattoo. It’s like she wants people to know it’s there which by the way Manon—“ Lara pointed at her who was staring at her, “Doesn’t help the allegations of you guys being together in a relationship. Cause you could’ve fooled me, if I didn’t know y’all even I’d think you were a couple!”
“I can say this because I know she’s not in the live y’all, but that’s my ____.” Manon says as she pats her chest, both eyes of the other girls settling on her with soft smiles splattered across their faces. “Like I just love her so much and miss her like crazy, it’s not even funny. When I seen she had got my name tattooed—she had me kicking my feet and shit y’all.”
The two girls next to her laughed and repeated, “She had you kicking your feet and shit?” Lara questioned jokingly.
“She had her kicking her feet and shit.” Daniela laughed, which caused the other two girls to chime in and laugh too.
They all looked up at the camera, comments continuing to flood the live as Lara chirped up, her head snapping to Manon. “No y’all listen, one time I complimented ____ because she was like—she looked so good and I wasn’t even talking to Manon right?” She paused, Manon looking at her with her eyes narrowed. “But she heard me and was glaring daggers into me all night I’m like woahhhh! Calm down girl!”
Daniela chuckled loudly, “Dude for real, like you should not! And I repeat, you should NOT compliment her when this one’s around. She is not gonna like that at all!”
“It wasn’t even that, relax y’all.” Manon smiled as she spoke, her eyes going back to the camera.
“Yeah okay Manon, we all know how pissed off that made you.” Lara spoke, the girls sharing a small laugh. “If my best friend looked like that I would protect her sexiness too.”
Manon stared at the camera and said, “You’re such a lesbian.” Lara only laughed and shrugged. The girls went quiet for a bit, just doing their own thing except Manon who was still reading the comments.
Manonspeanutbutter : Is ____ single?
eyeconzzz : Manon stop acting like she’s only your friend
megansgamerheadset : She’s clearly so in love with her like bffr
“Y’all needa stop, for real.” Manon laughed, watching the comments go into a blur once again. She always found ____ to be very attractive though but she wasn’t going to breach her friendship with her just because of her attraction. “Like I find her to be like—really pretty, but that’s just my girl y’all. We’re nothing more, I promise.” Manon wasn’t very convincing, hell just look at all the videos on the internet when they’re together, they always have to be touching and always look at each other in ways that seemed far too intimate to be just friends.
Manon couldn’t lie, she’s thought about it before but they were just thoughts that she put in the back of her mind. It wasn’t something she wanted to pursue, because not only that, she knew how much ____ had going on. Traveling the world and doing shows and concerts left and right, which ____ always said that that made her too busy. Manon was the type to want a partner who wouldn’t be too busy for her, so ____ was definitely not on that list. Maybe if she wasn’t so busy all the time, Manon would consider it and possibly be in a relationship with her right now. But the two are almost always far away from each other, meaning, so much away time.
However though, ____ never failed to make sure she let Manon she was okay and that she missed her. Every morning, ____ sends Manon a long message that Manon always loves so very much and at night, she’d do the same thing. Sending a long good night message that Manon always loved, having a collection of screenshots of messages from her. Manon had a huge soft spot for her and no matter what, she didn’t want to do anything to ruin what they had. The most precious friendship she has ever had the blessing of having. She sometimes wondered how she was so lucky to even have her in her life.
____official ⭐️ : Hi guyssss! I miss y’all and I love y’all! I love you Meret! 🫶
lovealways : Hiiiiiii ____!
____’slover : ____ the kids miss you!
starshine : Drop the album ____ frfr
A shriek came from Manon that caused Daniela and Lara to jump, “Oh my God, ____!!!! I miss you baby!!!” That caused Lara and Daniela to look at the phone, smiling once they realized she was indeed in the live.
“Hi ____, we love you mommy!” Daniela waved, smiling brightly as she did.
“We miss you toooo!” Lara smiled, all three girls now focusing on the live.
____official ⭐️ : I saw y’all were on here and wanted to let y’all know that I’ll be back in LA tonight and will stay for a month!
The way Manon’s excitement didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, her eyes practically sparkling. ____ had a chokehold on her so badly she couldn’t even deny it, but that was besides the fact that she hadn’t seen her in months and now she gets to spend an entire month with her. “Oh my god y’all—____ we gotta spend every day together then! I miss you so much you don’t even understand.”
Daniela and Lara just knew she was just so in love that it wasn’t even hidden. It was the cutest thing ever though, “Please hurry up and come back ____ because she’s been being so mean when you’re not here.” Daniela joked, causing Manon to turn to her with a playful offended look.
“I do not, stop lying!” Manon interjected, turning back to the camera to read the comments again.
____official ⭐️ : I’m going straight to your house when I land Meret. I miss you just as much and can’t wait to see you.
Lara saw how Manon lit up at that, “____ please spare her because she doesn’t know how to act right now.”
Manon just smiled, “That’s my girl y’all, I love her so freaking much. What time are you getting on your flight ____?” Manon asked, her head resting in her hand as she laid on her stomach, Daniela leaning over top of her and Lara also staring next to them both.
____official ⭐️ : I’m on my flight now! I’m supposed to land around 10 so I’ll be seeing y’all soon if y’all are at Meret’s house afterwards. My phone is dying though so I’ll call you when I land Meret! I love y’all!
“Nooooo, my baby!” Manon whined, her smile being as bright as the sun. “I love you ____, I’m waiting for that call!”
“Bye loveeee—we’ll see you later!” Lara waved.
“See you ____, and bring me some airplane snacks!” Daniela chimed in, her wave small.
They couldn’t help but notice how excited Manon was, seeing as she grabbed the phone and announced to the eyecons. “My girl is on the way, so I’m ending this thing, goodnight eyecons!” And with that, the live was over. It was already 8:50pm so it was less than an hour before ____ arrives, so she had to hurry up. She was already getting up and throwing her bag over her shoulder.
Daniela and Lara looked at her like she was crazy, “Calm down girl, you’re gonna see her in an hour not in the next 5 minutes, relax.”
“Yeah, we know you missed her but we need to stop being in denial about being in love with her.” Lara added, Manon turning to her with her brows knitted together. “I mean—y’all would be cute together. Hell, she’s like the only person you let call you by your first name without cringing.”
Manon’s arms crossed over her chest, her eyes going from Daniela to Lara—to Lara and then back at Daniela. “____ has just always been there, no matter what. I do love her but just not in that way no matter how painfully fine she is—“ Manon paused with a laugh, the other girls laughing as well. “But there’s nothing going on there, I swear to y’all.”
They just stared at her, “Well alright, if you say so Manon. We don’t blame you but at the same time if you do get those kinda feelings for her, be upfront and honest with her girl.” Lara told her, seeing Manon nod as she stood across the room.
“Well we’re gonna be over there probably tomorrow because I’m tired.” Daniela told Manon, Lara nodding in agreement.
“That’s fine.” Manon said, her hand on the doorknob before she said, “Just gives me more time to catch up with my girl. I’ll see y’all later, love y’all!” Manon waved at them, the two giving her an enthusiastic bye and love you back. Manon was so excited she practically ran to her car after she left the building, her hand going to fish out of phone from her purse to send ____ a message.
My ____ 🥹💕
____ baby I can’t wait to see you! I’m on my way home right now so I’ll see you in a few! Love you! 💕
Read at 8:55pm
I can’t wait to see you too Meret! You’re all I’ve been thinking about so best believe I’m going to give you a ginormous hug when I see you! I love you so much! ❤️
My ____ 🥹💕
I love you, be safe on your flight! I’ll be home when you get here! 💕
Read at 8:56pm
Okay Meret! I’m so excited, I’ll be there soon. I love you more! 🫶❤️
Manon stared at the messages for a long moment, smiling so softly. She loved ____ so much it was unreal, she couldn’t wait until she got to be with her again. Her ____.
—
—
—
The fight was long and annoying, but you landed 20 minutes before you were actually scheduled to. So you decided that it would be best to surprise Manon. You had swung by a drove around a bit, looking for any store that was open because you wanted to get her some flowers. And of course, you were lucky it was 9:40 because there was a shop right across the street. A flower shop. There were so many to choose from, but you wanted to get the best for her. That’s when your eyes landed on a bouquet of beautiful marigolds, shining as brightly as she did.
You paid for them and was off to your vehicle, now heading to Manon’s home. You were sure she was home by now and hopefully she was still awake because you really are dying to see her, you missed her so much and even though you’re exhausted from all the stuff you’ve been up to, you had all the energy you needed for her. It didn’t take you too long to get to her place and luckily she gave you a key to her front gate and home so you could get in. Making sure to lock the gate behind yourself, you pulled your car into her driveway. You were so excited, gathering your things and the flowers you just bought for her. You took a step out of your car, closing the door which then turned your car off.
With careful steps, you walked up her staircase and pulled your keys from your pocket. You were being as quiet as you could, putting the key in the key hole and successfully unlocking the door. Once you were inside, you gently locked the door behind you, looking around and getting that comforting warmth you always did. You could smell something delicious and also hear shuffling around that was accompanied by the sound of soft music. Manon was in the kitchen. You took careful steps through her home, walking around a corner and spotting her. She was facing your direction but she wasn’t looking at you due to her looking down at some vegetables she was chopping up.
You leaned against the entryway, smiling and softly saying, “Meret.” She looked up and practically jumped over the moon, her entire face glowing with a bright smile. She placed the knife down that she was using and ran around the kitchen island, your arms already open wide to give her the biggest hug you could ever give her. Once she got to you, the impact of her hugging you almost knocked the wind out of you, but you engulfed her in the most desperate hug you’ve ever given anyone.
“Oh my god, ____! I missed you so freaking much—!” She jumped slightly in the hug, pulling back to look at your smiling face, her hands cupping your cheeks to get a really good look at you. “I missed you so much, you don’t even understand! Look at you—you’re so adorable!” She pulled you back into the hug, her scent and warmth being so welcoming that you melted completely in her arms, your head resting on her shoulder as you held her closely. You didn’t even realize you had tears coming out of your eyes until she pulled away from you and looked at your face. “Awe, ____, what’s wrong?” She asked, clearly concerned.
You shook your head, “Nothing, I just missed you so much Meret. Being without you for so long was so hard—I’m telling you I cried so many times because I was missing you.” You could see the soft smile she gave you, her thumbs going to your cheeks to gently wipe away the tears.
“Aweeee ____, babes it’s okay. You know I’m always one call away, don’t ever feel like I’m not there with you. Even if it’s not physically, I will always be there with you in spirit, okay?” Her eyes stared up at you, making that cute face that always made you smile. “Look at that smile. Come on, are you hungry? I know you probably haven’t eaten a single thing since you got on that plane.”
You shook your head, “Nah I haven’t ate. I was gonna go get something to eat but since I got off my flight earlier than expected, I wanted to surprise you.” Manon grabbed your hand as she listened to you, walking back around the kitchen island and guiding you to the stool closest to her. You sat on the stool after you pulled it a bit closer to her. You placed the flowers on the counter, knowing she was more excited to see you than notice the flowers. “These are for you, Mer.” You pointed to them, her eyes coming up to finally spot the flowers, the biggest smile etched across her face. She picked them up and couldn’t contain her happiness, her glow making you smile.
“You always know how to make a reunion special, huh?” Manon loved when you got her flowers, she had an entire collection of gifts you gave her. She put the flowers back down and said, “I’m gonna put these on my nightstand.” Her smile still as bright as it was since you entered. You were staring at her, your elbow resting on the counter as you hand held your head up. She looked up at you, “You look tired as hell, ____. Didn’t get any sleep on the plane?”
“You know how me and planes are. Turbulence is something that’ll keep my ass awake.” She chuckled at that, her soft laugh making your heart melt. “How has everything been here with you? I know we haven’t talked as much as I would’ve loved for us to while I was away, so lemme know everything.” You told her.
“Well—“ She started, placing the knife down again as she slid both of her hands across the edge of the counter, leaning against it and staring at you. “There hasn’t been much going on, just rehearsals, meet and greets, me and the girls partying. The usual. But we’re off for the rest of this week so tomorrow night we’re hitting the club!” She did a little dance as she said that, your smile making her smile even more. “What about you though? How has it been adjusting to this rapping stuff? I know you got the ladies going crazy when you’re on stage.” She teased.
You shrugged, “Eh, I don’t care for them. It’s been pretty intense though, and this shit has me exhausted. My manager keeps trying to get me to go to clubs too, saying I need to let loose and relax but that is not my type of relaxing.” You explained, and she knew that.
“Oh yeah, your type of relaxing is staying up at 2 am playing that blocky game with Megan and Yoonchae.”
“First of all, it’s called Minecraft and secondly—you know me so well.” You both shared a laugh, a soft sigh escaping you both and your eyes locking for what felt like eternity. “I really missed you, Meret. Honestly and truly—there’s not a day that went by when you weren’t on my mind.”
Manon walked over to you and hugged you, placing herself in between your spread thighs as she wrapped her arms around your neck. If anyone saw you—they’d definitely think you were a couple. Especially with your hands being placed on the small of her back. She pulled away to look at you, “Me too. I won’t lie, I cried a few times when I missed you too.” Manon loved touching your face, her hand going to your chin to gently turn your head to take a look at the tattoo that was still freshly inked into your skin. ‘Meret.’
“I see you really fuck with the tattoo.” You said, feeling her fingertips graze it gently.
“It looks good on you. I may have to get me one with your name on it.” She released your face and went to her stove, opening it up and bending over to do so. She looked so divine but out of respect, you had to look away. She was only wearing a pair of black sweats, a cropped long sleeve t shirt, and she still made the simple outfit look fantastic. Not to mention how gorgeous her curly hair splayed on her shoulders.
“What you making?” You asked her and looked at her once she finally stood up straight, holding a pan with two oven mitts and placing it on the countertop.
“Meatloaf.” She knew that was your favorite, seeing how your eyes lit up from across the counter. “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize the smell.”
“I guess it’s been so long since I had your meatloaf. Which is the best meatloaf ever, might I add.” She smiled and removed the cover that was keeping the heat in, the steam shooting up and around the kitchen. She took the oven mitts off and let the meatloaf rest on the side, then walking back to the cutting board. You looked at her and couldn’t help but compliment her. “You’re so beautiful Meret. Always so beautiful.”
A small smile tugged at her lips before she looked up. She would be lying if she said that didn’t make her heart do a million backflips. “So you finally come back to LA and decide to flirt with me. Real smooth ____.” She chuckled. You both enjoyed the soft music as Manon continued cooking, walking around the kitchen and getting everything ready. She sung softly to songs that came on, occasionally feeding you some of the food she was cooking, giving you a taste test. It was a ten out of ten for you, everything she cooked was so good.
Once she was finished, she set both of your plates up, meatloaf, a side of vegetables, some fruit, and a small slice of cornbread. She knew you must’ve been hungry because you seemed to never really eat if it wasn’t her cooking, so she wanted to make tonight special for you. You both sat at the kitchen island and ate, facing each other as you talked with each other, laughing occasionally and just enjoying the moment you two finally got to share together. She missed this—missed you. And now that she has you, she didn’t know if she wanted you to go back home after the month is over.
You helped her clean the dishes when you both were done, covering leftovers and putting them in her fridge. She guided you upstairs, holding onto your hand as if you would disappear if she wasn’t. She took you to her bedroom, because she’d be dammed if she let you sleep alone after you finally came home. You smelled great so she wasn’t going to bother you with a shower, she knows you showered before coming. But she let you get comfortable, watching you take the hoodie off you were wearing, having a white t shirt and just your gray sweats on now. She watched you plop down onto her bed, a smile pulling at her lips.
She walked around the side of the bed and crawled onto it, “Get your booty up.” She chuckled, watching you groan and sit up to let her pull the covers up, holding it open to invite you in. Once you crawled in, she settled onto her back, you instantly coming up to cuddle onto her chest, your head resting on her with your arm laid across her stomach. She instantly pulled you closer, her arms going to wrap around you. The way your eyes closed made her smile so brightly, hearing how your breathing already slowed to the soft hum of a snore. You were already out and she found you to be so adorable. She placed a kiss to your temple, a slow lingering kiss that she touched softly like she was planting it permanently on your skin.
She had to take a picture and send it to her girls, so that’s exactly what she did.
Manz 💛
My baby is home!
Read by Everyone
Lara ❤️
Aweeeee look at the two lovebirds!
Read by Everyone
Dani 💕
She looks soooooo at peace girl, you’re really her person. 🥹
Read by Everyone
Megatron 🤖
____! Ask her if she wants to play Minecraft, me and Yoonchae have been waiting for months!
Read by Everyone
Manz 💛
Dude she’s literally asleep I’m not waking her for no gaming session
Read by Everyone
Yoonchip 🍪
She said when she came back that would be the first thing we’d do so wake her
Read by Everyone
Lara ❤️
Let the baby sleep, I’m sure she was tired as hell from all the concerts and shows she’s been doing
Read by Everyone
Manz 💛
She was because after we ate she almost instantly went to sleep
Read by Everyone
Sophia ❤️
All of you should be sleeping because we literally have rehearsals in the morning. Not only that, y’all wanted to go to the club tomorrow night so go to sleep. Tell ____ I miss her!
Read by Everyone
Yoonchip 🍪
Yes mom 🙄
Read by Everyone
Sophia was always easily able to shut anything down. She didn’t play when it came to their schedules so she wasn’t even being mean, she was just very responsible. Manon tossed her phone to the side and slid down further into the bed, her arms locking you in a tight hold. She snuggled closely to you, your soft snoring causing it to be easier for her to fall sleep. She needed you just as much as you needed her and the fact that you’ve been separated for so long made everything about this worth it.
—
9:30a.m.
Manon was now at rehearsal, a little sad since she had to leave ____ so early. But she made sure to leave her a message on her phone, letting ____ know that she’d be back later. She made sure she didn’t wake her earlier which was easy considering how sleepy she was before. She knew they’d probably be stuck in rehearsals all day considering how distracted she was. She just wanted to go back home to ____. To her home. They were on a 15 minute break, Manon sitting on the floor with her legs splayed out, her phone in her hands.
She was scrolling through her gallery, looking at pictures of ____. Of course her friends noticed, this time Megan and Lara coming over to see what she was doing. Lara sat beside her on the left, Megan on the right and both of them saw her phone. “Why do you look like a sad puppy?” Megan asked, leaning back on her hands.
“She had to leave ____ earlier and now she’s sad about that.” Lara was trying to tease Manon, but considering that Manon didn’t smile or anything was pretty concerning. “Are you okay Manon?”
Manon just shook her head, brows knitted together. “Nothing I just—can’t get her outta my head. I don’t know why it hurts so much to be away from her.” Manon explained, her eyes still on her phone scrolling through picture after picture—video after video.
Sophia was walking by and heard the three talking, which caused her to become curious and join the conversation, crouching before the three and eyeing Manon. “What’s wrong?” She asked, clearly concerned with the sudden change in Manon’s energy.
“She’s upset because she had to leave ____ this morning.” Megan told her, eyes going back to Manon who was now looking at Sophia. She genuinely looked so sad it actually hurt the girls heart, but this attention caused Yoonchae and Daniela to join as well. All eyes on Manon.
“You know she’s gonna be there when you get back home, right Manon? She’s not going anywhere.” Sophia told her softly, trying her best not to upset her anymore. She wanted her to perk up and be happy again, because they needed good morale. Everyone needed to be in good spirits to get through rehearsals. Unfortunately for them though, rehearsals were scheduled for damn near all day and that was what upset Manon the most.
“I know but we’re gonna be stuck here all day. Then you guys wanna go to the club after—I don’t know.” Manon sighed, her gaze averting back to the floor.
“You’re never beating the allegations, Manon.” Yoonchae spoke, causing almost all the girls to look at her.
“I can understand being upset for not being around your friends but—you look like you’re about to cry.” Lara informed her. “Are you sure you don’t like her more than a friend?” She asked, everyone’s gaze returning to Manon who was just staring at the floor.
“Because it’s okay if you do—“ Sophia began, her hand going to Manon’s leg who was now looking up at her. “We know how good she treats you and how often she’s there for you. We wouldn’t even blame you if you liked her more than a friend.”
“Hell people already think y’all are dating, so what’s so wrong with going for it?” Megan asked, shrugging as she did so.
Manon’s shoulders rolled, a sigh escaping her. “I don’t know. I just hate when I’m not around her. Especially after she was gone for months and just came back. It just feels weird, you know?”
They wouldn’t blame her if she wanted something with ____, but she was in so much denial it wasn’t even funny. Everyone could see right through that “she’s just my good friend,” bullshit she kept spewing. ____ just came back last night and she’s already acting like she’s depressed after leaving her for a few hours. But they also didn’t blame Manon for not wanting to pursue her because they knew she’d possibly be overthinking if it’ll ruin anything. She was just confused, that was all there was to it.
Daniela went closer to Manon and crouched, “We understand your feelings for her and you and I both know that it’s more complicated than you’re letting on. Just—I don’t know, maybe test the waters and see if you really have more romantic feelings for her and not just that friendship stuff you keep lying about.”
Manon just stared at her, the other girls nodding in agreement. “That’s exactly why we need to go to the club so you can let loose after this. Because mopping around here isn’t helping us leave faster.” Lara told her, not in a mean way, just in that way of saying she didn’t want to be stuck in here all day. “Come on. Your ____’s gonna be home when you get back. Promise.” Lara stood and so did everyone else, except Manon. Which caused all the girls to practically pull her up, hearing her let out an annoyed groan, but they knew she was okay. They just needed to talk to her about it.
But even so… rehearsals ended at around 6:30pm. Which meant they were going to shower and head straight to the club. Somehow, Manon wasn’t thinking about ____ too much, she did need to unwind.
—
You were wrapped in Manon’s blankets, your head against the head board as you watched her tv. You could see on her location that she was still at rehearsals but at the same time, she hasn’t messaged you back yet. You’ve been blowing up her phone so maybe they were doing bad and not really getting breaks. That is, until you saw her location say she left the rehearsal studio. You thought maybe she was coming home, but you had remembered her saying she was going to the club afterwards. But you missed her, you needed to see her. And the only thing you could think to do was go to the club to see her, even though clubbing was definitely not your thing at all.
You’ve been away from her for way too long to wait an entire day just to see her again, do you were already getting up to shower in her shower. Once you were done, you went to her closet because you did not feel like unpacking any of your clothes. You were happy she had some baggy clothes, so you took a pair of her jeans, a basic top, and a zip up hoodie that you’ve seen her wear multiple times before. You were already annoyed with the fact that you needed to go to the club just to see her. When you pulled your phone out to check the time, it being 7pm now, you checked her location and saw that she was indeed at the club.
That also might means everyone else is there, so you were excited to see them all too. You wasted no more time, with putting your shoes on and heading out her bedroom, going down the stairs and leaving out the front door but making sure to lock it. It was getting dark outside and these are the moments when you’d stay inside, but you know they can always be up at night partying their hearts out. When you got in your car, you sent her one more message knowing she might not reply due to her being at this club, but you wanted to let her know you were coming. You needed to see her, and that was the only reason you’re going to this club.
It didn’t take long for you to arrive, so many people lined up around the corner. You forgot you were a rapper for a second, hearing people calling your name and practically cheering as they saw you exit your car. Asking for pictures, autographs, and hugs that you loved giving to your supporters. Luckily you being a rapper made the bouncer notice you, ushering you past everyone and letting you in the club. The God forsaken club. It reeked of alcohol, sweat, and disappointment. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for your friends, Manon, and that’s when you saw Megan. She and Lara were dancing on top of a table, seeming like they were having the time of their lives.
You walked through the crowd of people, seeing that there was some people surrounded by them just watching. But you were able to push yourself to the front, seeing that they were in the vip section. “Megan! Lara! Hey!” You called out, both of them stopping their dancing momentarily. You could see the way they lit up from the sight of you, jumping slightly. Lara whispered something to her body guard, who nodded and then went to the barricade that was closing them off from the other people. He opened it and let you in, you walking through the gate that he then closed behind you.
Once you got through, Lara hugged you, and then did Megan. “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you ____.” Lara smiled, looking at you from head to toe. “Those—don’t look like your clothes.”
Megan chuckled, “They look just like the ones Manon wears when she’s not all glammed up.”
You looked down and grasped the hoodie, “Oh yeah—“ You chuckled, smiling as you looked back up at the two. “I didn’t really feel like unpacking my clothes so I borrowed this.” You explained to them.
“Wait ____, why are you here?” Megan asked, her head tilting slightly. “Not that we’re not happy to see you but, you and me both know that you do not fuck with clubs.”
“I wanted to see Meret.” You told the two, both of their eyes meeting before going back to yours. “I was texting her during rehearsals but she didn’t respond yet so—I guess I got a little worried.” You told them, your hand going to the back of your neck to nervously scratch it.
Lara nodded, “Rehearsals were hell today. Manon kept messing up because of you. YES YOU.” She pointed at you, your face contorting into one of confusion. “She was going on about how she hated being away from you, and how she needed to see you or she might die, so to get her to focus, Sophia took her phone. I think she still has it—which is why you haven’t gotten a reply from her.”
That made sense now. The way she was attached to you last night said everything too. “Dude she was so sad I swear she was going to cry.” Megan said, “I was gonna call you to see if you could come to rehearsals but Sophia told me not to. Because well—you’re a huge distraction for Manon.”
You threw your hands up in defense, “Can y’all stop labeling me as a distraction?” You asked, the two chuckling softly together. You looked around the vip area, “Where is Meret? And the other girls?” You asked before turning back to them.
“That’s a good question.” Lara said, her eyes now scanning the room. “They probably went to the bathroom, I’m not quite sure.”
You continued scanning the room, still not seeing them. Lara and Megan went back to dancing, you pulling out your phone to call Manon. But it went straight to voicemail, which let you know her phone was either dead or you’re unknowingly blocked. You highly doubt that though, so you just sat in the vip lounge that was away from so many eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder where they could possibly be. You wanted to leave so badly, you really did but you needed to see her. You stood up, walking through the lounge and back to where Lara and Megan were previously standing, but now they were too gone. Were they playing a joke on you?
Not only did you hate clubs, but you also hated being alone in huge places like this. There were so many cameras on you, and you tried your hardest to look nonchalant, trying to act as if you were relaxing on your phone but you weren’t. You were secretly just scrolling back and forth on your messages with Manon, looking for her everywhere. That is, until you finally spotted Daniela. She was standing with the rest of the girls. Your eyes finally spotted Manon as well, standing next to them all, looking graciously beautiful. She had her hair braided up in a bun that complimented the black dress she wore so well.
She looked divine, and you didn’t hesitate to leave the vip area. People were staring at you as you went and as you got closer, someone stopped you dead in your tracks. “Hi there.” A woman who you clearly didn’t know greeted you, her eyes scanning your face. “Sorry to bother you but I’m such a huge fan and was wondering if I could get a picture with you?” She asked you, which softened you a bit.
You nodded, “Of course.” Which she then pulled out her phone and you naturally placed your arm on her shoulder, just to show her you’re welcoming and friendly.
When you took the picture, she pulled back and smiled at you, “I was wondering if you did—hookups with your fans?” She boldly asked, your head tilting in confusion, her eyes trailing you everywhere. “I couldn’t help but notice how tensed you looked, so I wanted to personally help you relax.” She mused, her eyes dark and narrow the more she spoke. You didn’t know what to say, your mouth opening and closing which only seemed to ignite a fire in her, her smile widening as she took a step closer. Her outfit was very revealing, showing everything which made you avert your gaze.
“Um no—I’m sorry but I don’t hookup with fans.” You told her, but she clearly wasn’t backing down. She wanted you so badly but you definitely didn’t want this. You’ve been hit on by fans before, but no one has ever boldly came and asked you if you’d sleep with them.
Little did you know, Manon’s eyes were on you. The other girls were eyeing you too, knowing that Manon was indeed getting jealous and territorial. But they all knew that you were getting attention that was very unwanted, attention that you never looked for. And it pissed not only Manon off, but everyone else too because they could see how uncomfortable you looked. They didn’t even try to stop Manon when she started walking your way, but to cause a problem, but just to get you out of that situation. She knew she was jealous, she could feel her heart drop when she saw you with that woman who was clearly hitting on you.
“That’s too bad. I could show you a good time though. Whatever stress you’re dealing with will be gone by tomorrow morning.” She told you, her hand going to graze your jaw, your body stiffening up like you were being yelled at. “Just one word, you and me, in the bathroom. It’ll make all your problems go away.”
You gently grabbed her hand and removed it from your face, shaking your head as you did so. “No, I’m so sorry but I can’t do—“ Your words were cut off by a hand grabbing your wrist, your eyes looking up to see it was just who you wanted to see. Manon. She looked upset and you’re sure she was because this woman was all in your space.
“She said she’s okay. Please leave her alone.” Manon stared at the woman, her eyes burning holes into her skull. She didn’t let the woman say anything as she started pulling you away with her, not once letting you out her grasp. “You don’t need to be in a place like this.” Was all she said, her hand dropping from your wrist to your fingers to intertwine them. You thought you were going over to the rest of the girls who were staring at you both.
“Are y’all leaving?” Daniela asked.
You were trying to say something but Manon answered, “Yeah, we’ll see y’all later.” She waved softly, smiling like that situation hadn’t pissed her off. But they just waved back, not missing the small smile and wave you shot at them which they returned. Once you were outside, Manon let go of your hand, following you to your car that you instinctively opened the door for her. Once you were both inside, she had her arms crossed over her chest, staring forward and saying, “We gotta have a talk.”
You could feel your entire heart drop, she usually wasn’t serious with you but you could hear that this was serious. You don’t know what you could’ve done, you came to see her and now she seemed upset at you. You didn’t say anything, just driving with soft music playing. You kept glancing at her, and yeah she did look a bit upset. Not fully angry, just a tad bit annoyed. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous, like you knew she was upset but you never liked any kind of animosity between you and her. The tension was thick, your hands shook on the steering wheel.
The drive felt long but it wasn’t really. Once you were at the front door of her home, she unlocked it and let you in first. With the soft sound of her door closing and the soft click of lock going in place, Manon calmly said, “Sit.” Pointing towards the living room, your legs feeling heavy as you walked. You took a seat on her couch, Manon following behind you and standing before you, a soft sigh coming from her before her hand rubbed against her forehead. Like she was soothing an ache in her head.
“Meret, what’s wrong? I don’t understand why you’re upset with—“
“I’m not upset with you.” She cut you off, not with any hint of anger.
She seemed jealous and you could see it clearly. “Then what’s wrong? If you’re jealous that I was talking to that woman, I promise it wasn’t like that.” You reassured her, seeing her shoulders relax momentarily.
Manon sighed and paced for a second, the sound of her heels clicking as she moved. “Okay—I can admit I was a little jealous, yeah.” She looked at you, her eyes softening at the way you stared at her. “Okay maybe I was very jealous. I just—I don’t know what’s going on with my feelings.”
Your head tilted, curiosity getting the best of you. “What do you mean?”
She bit her bottom lip as if she was debating on telling you or not. “I feel like I’m going crazy. It’s like when you’re around, I feel at home. And when you’re not, my entire mood changes.” She spoke, you not interrupting her once. “I can’t explain it—but I know that I hate seeing women all over you.” You could hear the way her voice shook just a bit, her eyes not meeting yours. “Even though you weren’t giving in to her, something about it made me so mad I wanted to drag her through the damn club.” A short humorless laugh escaped her, her eyes landing on your face.
“Meret.” You stood up, standing in front of her with your hands gently going to grab at her forearms. “I promise you don’t ever have to worry about women around me. I wasn’t even in the slightest bit interested in her.” You chuckled, watching her look at you, smiling softly. “You were the only woman I was looking for out there. And then when I did see you—“ You spoke, your eyes respectfully taking in her appearance, “I was just—so amazed by how beautiful you look.” The way she stared at you was dangerously attractive, your hands leaving her forearms so you could contain yourself. She smiled brightly at you, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you into a hug.
You returned it, feeling her relax against you which made your body relax as well. Once she pulled back, her eyes stared deeply into yours, which made you so very nervous. You could feel your heart beat growing faster, the feel of her hands snaking their way up your sides to settle onto your shoulders. You saw the way her eyes looked down at your lips, which made you freeze, but you had to stop her. Your hands went to hers and pulled them off your shoulders. You just didn’t want her to do something she’d potentially regret. “Meret I uh—I think we should maybe not…” You didn’t even know what was happening, but your heart thumped harder than holy hell.
She looked away for a moment before asking, “Could you see us as more than friends?” She saw how that shocked you, her eyes scanning your features before she continued talking. “It’s just that—“ Manon paused, taking a deep breath before she started talking. “The girls and I were talking. They were saying how they felt like my feelings for you were more than on the friendship level. And I’m starting to think they were right.” She could hear the way your breathing hitched. “I don’t wanna ruin our friendship, but I also don’t wanna keep pretending like I just wanna be your friend. The way I cry over you when you’re not here is definitely not how I cry over anyone else.”
You listened to her carefully, watching her pull away just slightly. She looked like she was going to break any moment now, so you took a hold of her hand to stop her. “Meret, listen to me.” You softly said to her, her eyes searching your face for any signs of uncertainty. “I’m gonna be honest since we’re here now.” You started, chuckling as you spoke. “I know I’ve been hopelessly in love with you ever since we became friends.” You nervously said that, barely being able to speak correctly. “I thought it was just a little crush that would go away but hell—it didn’t. Then when we had that conversation about how busy I seemed to always be, I was like—damn how the fuck can I be with her when I’m not always around? I know you said physical touch is your love language…”
She stared at you, her lips parted slightly as she stared at you. She didn’t say anything, her hand going to the back of your neck, her fingertips playing with the hair at the base your neck. Her fingers trailed from your neck to your jaw, turning your head to the side so she could see the tattoo. “You already got my name branded on you. The Internet thinks we’re together. Do you think—this would ruin us?” She asked you, her hand going to your chin to turn your face back towards her. She was so beautiful you could feel yourself nearly folding at the mere sight of her pretty doe eyes.
Your lips trembled, your brain almost forgetting to speak. “I—I don’t think it would.” You answered honestly. “I know how I feel, and how I’ve felt for so long.” You stared at her for a second before continuing. “I know I love you. I’m in love with you, and if our current careers weren’t getting in the way, I’d love to be with you. I mean, I don’t have a problem with the fact that we’re not always together because I know whenever I come back to LA, I’ll always come back to you.” The way her entire demeanor seemed to relax made you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in.
But Manon didn’t say anything, the feel of her hand going back to the nape of your neck. Her face was centimeters away from yours, “I love you—“ She muttered, letting her lips press gently against yours for a second, “And I wanna be with you too. I can get over us being apart sometimes—but I can’t get over the thought of another woman having you.” She pulled you into a deep kiss, her lips being softer than you’d expect. She was feverish, her tongue swiping your bottom lip which made you open your mouth, inviting her tongue to intrude. Your entire body was as stiff as a board, you didn’t expect this to happen.
She was quick to push you onto her large couch without breaking the kiss, gently making sure you were comfortable and okay with everything. Her hands were exploring your body everywhere, trailing down your neck to the hem of your hoodie, which caused you to stiffen up. She noticed and hesitantly pulled away, “Are you okay?” She softly asked you, her eyes scanning your flushed face. You couldn’t even reply, only nodding quickly and staring at her like she was the most gorgeous thing on earth. And to you, she most definitely was.
She looked down at you for a second, her eyes scanning over your hoodie. “Is that mine?” She asked, trying to do anything or say anything to sooth your nerves. But still, you couldn’t form coherent words, you were so nervous, lying as flat as a board. “What’s wrong ____?” She asked.
Your mouth felt so dry, “I don’t—I just never—you know…” You couldn’t get anything out, especially with her on top of you, looking as divine as ever, but she knew what you were trying to say. But it surprised her to say the least, because she would think that with all the time you have on the road, you’d let some steam off. Well, she guessed you did that by playing games with Yoonchae and Megan all night.
She couldn’t deny knowing that you were inexperienced turned her on. No other woman had ever got to touch you before, that sent a spark of electricity through her chest and straight to her core. The way you nervously looked away had her in awe, her hand coming up to gently take a hold of your chin, turning you to face her. Her smile was so gentle but it didn’t help your nerves, you could see the dark intent behind those eyes. “Don’t be scared baby—“ She murmured, hearing your breath get caught in your throat. “I won’t do nothing you don’t want me to. But if you want me as much as I want you—“ Her voice went lower, Manon leaning down to be right by your ear, “I’ll make sure every woman on this earth knows you belong to me.” Then she gave your earlobe a small lick, before taking your lobe in between her teeth.
She could feel the shiver that ran throughout your body, her lips ghosting from your ear to your neck, right where your tattoo was. You could feel her smile against you, before her lips latched onto the skin, right next to the tattoo. She gently sucked at first, testing the waters and adding a bit more suction around the area. You could feel how fast you were hardening in your jeans, your brain feeling like it was short circuiting from her being on top of you, doing this with you. Her tongue licked a long strip over that mark she was making, so she could give it a harder suck, the way you winced making her feel more confident in her actions. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so Manon took the liberty to grabbed your hands and place them on her plush booty. You could feel how her dress was riding up, the feel of the back of her thighs in your hands.
It was something you never thought you’d experience, because you have thought about what it would be like to have a moment like this with her before. You just such envision it would be like this, this intense. There was so much emotion going through your body, your twitching cock not calming down for a second. Her lips were everywhere on your throat, leaving marks on almost every spot she could see. You shivered beneath her, which she then took the liberty to go to the zipper of your hoodie, tugging it down slowly until it unclasped at the hem of your hoodie. Only then did she pull away off your neck, her bottom lip being bitten so beautifully by her teeth.
She sat on your abdomen and slid back slightly, the movement causing her backside to push backwards against your painfully hard cock. She felt it easily, causing her to position herself more onto it. “Do I turn you on, baby?” She asked you in such a teasing voice, her right hand going to your jaw to press her thumb against your bottom lip. You could only nod, but that’s not what she wanted. “Use your words baby. I don’t bite—well, not too hard.” She teased, especially with the way your neck was covered in many love bites that were already darkening.
You nodded frantically, “Yes—yeah Meret. You turn me on so much…” Your voice was merely a whisper, Manon being satisfied with your answer. You could see the way her dress was riding up and over her thighs, the way they looked so soft had you twitching against her. Of course she noticed, which caused her to press herself harshly against your cock, rolling her hips softly against you, the soft moans escaping you turning her into a mess. But she wanted to take her time with you, she wanted to see you fall apart underneath her.
Manon leaned down closer to your face, your lips instinctively trying to reach for hers but she just stayed a few inches away, a smile of absolute bliss etched across her face. You wanted her so badly and she would tease you until she was satisfied. Her hands fumbled at your sides underneath the hoodie, feeling you tense under her very well manicured fingertips. “You’re so sensitive, ____. If you ever wanna stop—“
“No.” You cut her off maybe a little too quickly, her smile dropping for a second. “I can shamefully admit that I’ve thought about you—in this way. It’s just making me nervous to finally have this moment with you even though I want you so bad.” She let out a soft moan at your words, her lips finding yours in a slow and delightful kiss.
Manon moved to the corner of your lips, pressing a soft kiss there and going to the space between your ear and your neck, placing another soft kiss there and whispering so seductively. “I have too.” She admitted, not an ounce of shame in her voice. “A lot of times when we’re together cuddling and you’re sleeping, I always notice the way you get hard in your pants.” She chuckled as you physically jumped a little from embarrassment. She pulled up to look in your eyes, her face mere inches away from yours. “I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to be fucked by you.”
She smiled at the way a shaky breath left your lips. But she was tired of going too slow, which resulted in her reaching behind her to take a hold of her heels, tossing them aside and then going to reach for the hem of her dress. You watched with hungry eyes, Manon didn’t waste a second before she was tugging the dress up and over her head, now being almost bare before you. Her body was heavenly, the way her skin glowed underneath the warm lights caught your eyes just right. She didn’t waste any time and took a hold of your hands, placing them back on her ass.
She was wearing a beautiful lacy black bra with matching panties, utterly breathtaking. When her hands went to the end of your shirt, she saw how your body clenched. “Are you scared?” She asked, voice so reassuringly soft that you didn’t know how to act.
“Maybe a little… but not like scared scared, more or less just nervous.” Her expression softened at that, her eyes never once leaving yours. She pulled her hands away and stood up, your eyes following her frame and watching her take a seat beside your body as you laid there. She was sitting next to your legs, her face turned to yours.
“It’s okay.” Her hand went to your thigh, gently caressing your skin behind the fabric. “We can go slow, I promise none of this will hurt.” She watched you once she reached for the button of your pants, your eyes trained solely on her. The button came undone with a soft pop, her fingers then trailing to your zipper and slowly pulling it down, the buzz being almost completely muffled to you as she did so. Her hands then went to both sides of your jeans, gently tugging them down enough to where it was underneath the bulge in your underwear. She took in the sight, you were painfully hard, throbbing and twitching just from her staring at it. “You okay?” She asked.
You nodded quickly, a satisfied smile etching across her face. She slowly reached one hand over your bulge, gently placing it against it and holding it there. She didn’t miss the way your chest quickly began to rise and fall, your cock twitching under her touch. She watched your face as she slowly massaged it, making sure her thumb sure her thumb rubbed harshly against the swollen head. Your eyes fluttered slightly, your breathing faltering and hands twitching with the slight stimulation she was giving you. She needed more, and when her hands pulled your boxers down just enough, to watch your cock spring free and bounce against your abdomen, then standing straight up with a slight lean to it.
She was very surprised with your shear size, being way bigger than she thought it would be. It only made her want you more, she needed you. But she needed to see you lose it. She wrapped one hand around you, your hips bucking involuntarily which made the beautiful woman before you smile. She slowly stroked you to the base, going all the way to the tip, a shiver running down your spine. Manon stopped for a second, “____.” She called, your eyes opening halfway to see her spitting a generous amount on of saliva on your tip, the feeling making you shudder. “Don’t close your eyes baby, I want you to watch.”
You sat up slightly, leaning on your forearms and watching as her hand softly stroked you at first, her eyes going to your face to take in your expression. “Fuck…” You moaned, your hips twitching the more she fisted your cock, her hand going up to twist up around your tip, her thumb running over your slit to smear the pre-cum around the head, letting it glisten along with the spit she gave you. Her she placed the other hand on your cock, now being able to cover almost all of her, her hands twisting in a way that had you softly moaning her name. The sound of your voice made her lower region ache, her thighs squeezing together to soothe the ache her clit was emitting. “Meret…”
Manon watched the way your abdomen tensed, your shirt exposing just a small portion of your lower stomach. Her eyes trailed to your face, your hand twitching up to grab her before you dropped it back down. Everything was feeling way too much and you’ve masturbated before multiple times, but another hand doing it for you felt like heaven. Especially her soft hands, the warmth accompanied by the wetness of your own pre-cum and her saliva. “You’re so big baby—it’s so sexy watching you fall apart for me.” Her eyes went back to your face.
Your eyes were sealed shut, your mouth slightly hung open. She could feel the way your cock twitched so vigorously, her hands working faster and holder tighter on you. She wanted to face you when you came so without removing her hands, she stood up and threw her leg over your own, her grip tightening more and more as she stroked you faster. “I’m gonna cum…” You breathed, your hand going out to grip one of her wrists, Manon loving the way your face contorted. The slick sounds being music to her ears, she couldn’t help the smile that crept upon her face.
Manon leaned closer to you, whispering right in your face, “Cum for me, baby. You’re doing so good for me—just let go.” The way your eyes slowly opened to look at her had her wanting to plunge herself on you right now, but she loved the idea of making you cum without even entering her. She removed one hand from your cock to pull your head into her shoulder, your deep breaths brings the sweetest melody she’s ever heard. “I love you ____. Be good and fucking cum for me.” One of her hands snaked up to your hair, tightly intertwining her fingers in your locs to hold you in place. Her warm breath against your ear was like adding fuel to fire, her tongue darting out to lick the soft shell of your ear.
That was all it took, your body tensing and locking, your mouth spewing a bunch of curses and her name. She pulled back slightly to watch the way the hot jets of sperm escape you, it shooting up so violently like it didn’t want to stop. She placed her other hand back on your cock, using both hands to get as much out as she could.
“Ohhh fuck—sensitive…” You murmured, her eyes trailing to your pleading face.
“Shhhhh…” Her hands slowly stroked you, your blissed out face being the perfect picture to her. “You deserve this. I know you’re only inexperienced because you were waiting for me to make a move. So relax, you deserve an award for that.” She could tell the praise from her did something to you, especially with the way your softening cock was already stiffening back up. Her lips went to yours, not wasting time as she pressed a kiss to your lips, you instantly responding and letting her tongue make way into your mouth. She sucked hungrily on your tongue, the kiss being so sloppy that saliva smeared everywhere on both your faces. You were so lost in the haze of her doing all this to you that you didn’t realize she was hovering over your cock.
She was still in her underwear, but the feel of the heat wafting off of her is what caught your attention. “Meret…” You softly called, her hand going to your face to gently caress your cheek. “Are you sure this is okay? I mean—we just…” You didn’t even know what you were trying to say, just that you were starting to feel butterflies all in your stomach swarming your intestines.
Manon’s hand slid from your face to your throat, seeing how your eyes averted to the right side of the room. She needed your full attention on her so you could know it was her doing this with you. She looked so captivating, but the lust, dominance and desire in her eyes was a beat you didn’t miss. Her hold on your throat was soft. She lowered her covered heat against your still slick cock, causing you to twitch from the aftershocks that were still there. “Why act like I just didn’t milk the fuck out of you?” She could see the way your face heated up, your ears burning at that.
She found it cute, adorable even. She let her folds spread against your cock behind her pantie, the feeling affecting her and you. She generously rolled her hips, so slowly to give you the full effect. “You’re so shy, there’s no need to be with me.” Her hips continued to rock so delightfully slow, the thick head of your cock nudging her clit every time she slid forward. Her hand left your throat, reaching behind her to unclasp the lacy black bra. Manon wanted to put on a show for you, her hands slowly removing the fabric and tossing it on the coffe table next to you.
Her perky breasts were a sight to behold, a sight that you couldn’t look away from. But more importantly, she saw the way you lit up, “Are those—?” You smiled softly.
“Nipple piercings, yeah.” She laughed softly. You chuckled but you found them to be sexy, and she saw how desperately you looked like you wanted to just ravage them. She, however, was done with all the foreplay. She took your wrists in both her hands, placing them at the edge of the couch above your head. She let her hands trail across your stomach, a shiver shooting throughout your entire body. Her lips were next to your ear, one of her hands going to your hair to lightly yank your head to the side, turning your face away from her.
“I want you to relax.” Her breath was warm against your cheek, the shell of your ear being taken between her teeth. Her hand trailed lower, taking a hold of your cock that twitched from the touch, a whimper leaving your chest. “And let me do all the work.” She used the tip of your member to move the fabric of her panties aside, the slight stimulation causing your eyes to flutter. Once the fabric was successfully along the side of her folds, she used your tip to rub it against her swollen nub, the slight squelching sound and sensation making both of you shudder.
She couldn’t take it anymore, she needed it. She needed you. She firmly grasped you, “Baby—“ Your voice shook slightly, Manon sliding your thick head between her folds and traveling it downwards to latch onto her entrance. She sat up to look down at you. Like she wanted to make sure you were comfortable. “Meret…” Was all you could muster. She looked so blissed out. With a tilt of her hips, she angled you just right to slide right in, your eyes shooting close and your body locking up. The sight was everything to her, the way you seemed to become breathless with a bunch of wanton moans escaping your throat.
She breathed a deep “fuck…” as she sat there for a moment. One of her hands slid across your chest, going to grasp at your throat. Once your eyes opened, you could see how much she needed you, she needed your attention on her. Her lips being slightly parted, the wetness in her eyes, everything was so intimate and erratic. Her hold on your throat wasn’t tight, but you knew it meant that she just wanted control over you in this very moment. She gave your hips one experimental roll, your entire body jerking from the contact. And was she loving it. “It’s so sexy when you squirm underneath me.” She let her hips drag a little more slowly, making sure you could feel every inch of her velvety walls clinging along your cock.
Your entire chest felt like it was collapsing, so much so that you completely forgot about one of the most important things. “Baby… condom?” You asked shakily, reaching your hand out to her which she took gently, before slamming it back beside your head.
Her perky breasts were in your face, the shine from the nipple piercings catching your eye. You could see the smirk visible on her face, Manon slowly yet harshly rolling her hips into your own, your eyes rolling back as she did. The feeling was all too much, but she wasn’t going to allow that. With a harsh yet soft grab, she took your chin in her hand, tilting your face to look at her. “I know you’re clean and so am I. If I’m doing this with you for the first time then I wanna feel all of you. None of that condom bulllshit.”
She wasted no time in sitting back firmly on top of your cock, her hands on her thighs, raising her hips in such a teasing yet satisfying way. The way she stared you in your eyes was so intimately beautiful that it almost had you bursting right there. Every time she pulled up, you could feel the veins in your cock being rubbed so deliciously which caused you to twitch inside her. The feeling was everything to her, and she was for sure putting on a show for you. Her right hand slide to the middle of her body, her fingers trailing up to take one of her nipples in between. She moaned at the feeling, her eyes never once leaving yours.
The way your cock was stirring her insides was such an unholy feeling, so delicately good that she knew she was going to become addicted to. Manon reached out and grabbed one of your hands, placing it on top of her unattended breast. You didn’t know what to do, just holding the mound in your hand. She didn’t seem to mind, and now she was full on bouncing on top of your cock. Your eyes looked down to where you were joined, seeing your previous orgasm spreading every time she lifted up.
The feeling was so undeniably good that the moans that escaped you were out of character. But it only fueled the woman on top of you, her hips raising and falling with reckless intent, the slicked noise being music to her ears. Her hips rolled with deadly precision, the right amount of her velvety walls nudging against your sensitive head every time she circled them. “You look so good like this, baby.” Her praise made your cock twitch which she indeed noticed. “Fuck—never woulda guessed that I could’ve had you like this for a long time. Look at me, ____.”
Her hand reached down to your throat, squeezing enough to have your breath get caught but not enough to stop airflow. She looked so divine above you, her hips working you over in a way that had you squirming underneath her. You could tell she loved eye contact. She was staring so intently into your eyes that the sight alone had your cock ready to burst. “You gonna cum baby?” She asked, her hand that was toying with her breast now reaching behind her to caress your tightened balls. You were wondering why you were so hot and forgot that you were completely clothed still, with her beautifully situated on top of you. But she was waiting for your response. Her hand around your throat tightening just slightly, “Answer me.” Her voice was stern and commanding.
Your hands shot up to her wrist, “Ye—yes I’m gonna… fuck…” She was so impossibly tight it had you losing your mind. Manon lowered herself towards you, her face a few inches away with her hand still around your throat but tightening. “Mer…” You would be a liar if you said her choking you wasn’t speeding up your orgasm, your eyes trying to stay open and on her.
She shook her head with a sly grin on her face, “Call me Mami, baby.” The way her hips sped up had you trembling, her ass rising and falling very quickly, the curve of your cock sliding so perfectly into her in a way she couldn’t even hold together. “Fuck—I need you to cum before me. Come on.” Her hand that was on your balls released them before going to her clit, getting herself to tighten the more she circled it with two fingers.
“Mami…” Your voice came out as a broken whimper and she’d be lying if she said that it wasn’t the sexiest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m so close Mami.” Your arms went to wrap around her body, just needing something to hold on to. It felt so much more intense than a regular session of you masturbating, the warmth completely engulfing your cock in a way that had your eyes stinging with slight water.
Manon inched closer to your face, her lips close yet never touching. She started riding you roughly now, her hips practically slamming against your own. The way your face started twisting, your voice coming out as broken moans of her name told her everything she needed to know. She removed her hand from your throat and placed them on either side of your head. She wanted to see and hear everything once you came, and she wasn’t going to waste this moment by choking you. Maybe another time.
Her eyes were fixed on your face, your hands tightening on her lower back once you locked up. You tried keeping your eyes on her but they instantly shot closed. Your body convulsed violently under her, her eyes never once leaving your face seeing your teeth grit the more she moved. “Oh fuck—Mami fuck…” She could feel you shooting thick ropes into her, though the sensation made her want to never get up. She hardly slowed her movements, “Baby…” Your voice trembled, your body pulling itself flush to hers to try and get some ground on the situation.
Her hand went to the back of your neck, holding you closely the more she overstimulated your nerves. “That’s it ____. Fuck I’m close too.” Her fingers trailed to your hair, threading in your locks to hold you tightly. Her eyes were shut, her face in utter bliss. She could feel how you were twitching violently inside her, cock still spurting inside her. The way you were whimpering was so sexy to her, “Hold on baby. I’m almost there.” Her free arm wrapped around your back, securing your body against her.
Your face was pressed to her collarbone, your mouth hanging open and leaving a small amount of saliva every time she bounced on top of you. Her grip around you tightened, pulling you closer to her. You were so overstimulated that your entire body was trembling, you could feel your legs shaking. It was a great feeling but a little too much, and Manon loved every second of it. “Fuck baby. I’m cumming—shit!” Her voice reached a peak you never thought you’d hear, her walls contracting violently around you before tightening completely.
She held you impossibly closer, her arms damn near constricting your blood from flowing. She gently guided her hips in small bounces, occasionally adding little circles and stimulating you more. You didn’t let her go. You couldn’t. Your arms held her, a soothing hand caressing her back trying to help her regain her composure. The feel of her body against yours was so intense, so heavenly, so beautiful that your body jerked every time she moved. Manon removed her arm from around your back, pulling your face away from her neck so she could look at you.
She watched your face wince every time she circled her hips. She tugged at the hairs on the nape of your neck and pulled you close to her, sealing your lips in a deep kiss. Her tongue slipped against yours quickly, hers sucking gently at yours causing you both to moan out in each other’s mouths. Her hips bounced gently before coming to a hesitant stop, hers walls still convulsing around you. Your hands went back to her lower back, caressing the skin so tenderly that it had her shuddering against you. Manon sighed against your lips, the kiss stopping and her pulling away so slowly.
Her eyes stared into yours, a sparkle that you swore you’ve never seen before. She was definitely in love with you and you could tell that. “Are you okay?” Her voice was so soft and gentle.
You nodded with a small grin, “I’m more than okay, Mami.”
She chuckled softly at that, “You gonna keep calling me that?” Her smile was so beautiful even after what you’ve both just done, being breathless and worn out.
“Nah. I like calling you baby more.” Her eyes held so much love and adoration that you almost cried from the sight. “What does this… y’know?”
You didn’t want to get the wrong idea, however, even though she did say she was in love with you earlier. The feelings you were feeling were a bit too much. You understood it all but you hoped this wasn’t just a quick fuck for her. She saw how you looked away a bit, her hand pulling at your chin to get you to look at her eyes. They held nothing but pure love and intentions in them. “____, I meant what I said about being in love with you. I wanna be with you so bad it fucking hurts.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “I just don’t want us to ever feel like our careers—the distance is getting in the way.”
She genuinely wanted to be with you and that had you bursting at the seams with joy inside. “Baby, I love you.” You started, hers eyes staring down so lovingly at you. “I promise you that the distance doesn’t matter to me. Not even a little bit. If you ever need me even if it’s for a second, you know I’ll be there. I’ve always been there.”
Her eyes looked like they wanted to spill over, her smile making you fall more for her. If that were possible. This time you pulled her into a kiss, initiating it deeper with your lips moving so slowly against her own. The kiss wasn’t too long once she pulled back, her hands falling to your shoulders and then forearms to gently caress your skin under the hoodie you were still wearing. “I love you more. But just know that this…” She gave a harsh bounce against your cock, your entire body jerking up as your hands tightened around her. She could only smile. “I’m probably addicted to it.”
Manon smiled before wrapping her arms back around your neck, pulling you into the most heartwarming kiss ever. You would be lying if you said that this wasn’t the best night of your life.
—
Now at rehearsals, Manon and the rest of the girls were doing the choreography for Gnarly. They’ve been here since 7am which was normal for them. It was only 9am but it felt longer. Manon was a bit sore from last nights activity but she somehow didn’t let it affect her. Her girls could see the glow on her face from a mile away, the way she smiled almost every second and the way she just looked way more vibrant. She was on her A game this morning so they knew something had happened. It left them all wondering. When it was time for break, they couldn’t help themselves.
It was Lara who walked over first with Megan, both of them watching Manon who was stretching in front of the mirror. “You gonna spill the tea or what?” Megan asked, joining her in the mirror to just look at her reflection.
“Yeah, you’ve been more focused than all of us and it shows.” Lara sat on the floor beside the two girls, stretching her legs trying to get the tension out of them.
Manon was stretching her arms above her head, now seeing Sophia and Daniela coming up behind in the mirror, though Yoonchae had walked away to go somewhere else, maybe the bathroom. She turned to all of them, “Are y’all here to like—interrogate me or something?” She asked, her eyes going between all the girls.
Sophia walked up on the right to and looked at Manon, “Not at all. We’re just curious why you haven’t done a single thing to make rehearsals chaotic yet.”
They all just stared at her, Manon turning back to face the mirror and shrugging. “Me and ____ are together.” She said it so casually like it was the most obvious thing ever. But the shock that came from them had her so confused, “What the hell are y’all freaking out about?”
“You can’t just come in here with this—“ Lara vaguely gestured over Manon, “This unknown glow we’ve never seen. You’re always glowing but my goodness!”
She could see how excited they all were, which only made her shake her head with a smile. “Oh my God Manon, girl!” Daniela practically shouted, clearly cheering her friend on. “We gotta know the details like now! What happened after y’all left the club?”
Manon took a breath, deeply inhaling any oxygen she needed right now. She wasn’t going to go into too many details but she wanted them to note some. “Well I was jealous, and then I kinda just said fuck it and told her how I felt.” They all practically leaned in, waiting for her to finish. “Then one thing led to another and we—y’know.” Her head tilted as she said that, getting the girls to understand what she was hinting at, all of them shrieking in awe. They loved that for the both of them, because they wanted ____ and Manon together. They knew Manon was in love, it wasn’t hard to see.
They were going over the details, just talking back and forth between each other. Manon was explaining how ____ was inexperienced before that which made them all soften in a way. They were morally surprised at that fact though, but they found it to be cute. Daniela was being overly dramatic about how she knew that ____ was waiting on Manon because she already basically knew how ____ felt. Basically.
Amidst all the chattering, you walked in. You were holding a tray of coffee, and a big bag of breakfast food for Manon and the rest of the girls. You knew she hadn’t eaten yet and maybe the other girls didn’t either, so you took the liberty to buying them all breakfast. You walked in and saw them all surrounded by the mirror, none of them noticing you. You were walking over to greet them, not knowing what you were in for. You didn’t know if Manon had told them yet or not, so you didn’t want to call her the pet name “baby,” not just yet if she hadn’t told them.
But you figured she did once Megan looked back at you, practically shooting your name with a loud and dramatic, “Look who it is!” That caused them all to turn, but it was Manon who practically ran towards you.
She was so adorable, her happiness being the best part of your day. “Babyyyyyyy!” She shouted, her arms open wide as she pulled you into the biggest hug, you trying to steady yourself and not drop the food. God she knew how to relax every bone in your body. Not that you were stressed or anything, she just made you so happy that almost nothing else mattered. She pulled back briefly to press kisses all over your face, not missing a single inch of skin.
“Hi baby.” You mumbled in between her kissing, her lips going to your cheek, forehead, jaw, lips. Everywhere. In the corner of your eye, you saw the rest of the girls walking over to you both, nothing but big smiles etched across their faces. “Hi—gu—guy!” Your voice was a bit muffled, now that she pressed a big kiss to your lips this time, just before pulling away and wrapping her arms around one of your arms. “I got you all breakfast.” You smiled, holding up the food and drinks. But none of them looked at that. All eyes were on you. You could feel sweat pooling at the nape of your neck, your palms getting sweaty.
“Sooooo, you finally did it huh?” Daniela asked, a teasing tone in her voice.
“And to think that she was your guest is even more crazy. All that time on the road and you’ve like—never?!” Lara was so distraught, of course Manon told them.
You were a bit more nervous to be around them now. “It’s okay ____.” Sophia started, walking a up on you just a little. “I mean, with the tattoo of her name on your neck, the matching rings you both wear, I mean—it was pretty obvious that this was bound to happen.”
You smiled softly, looking over at the beautiful woman who was leaning on your shoulder. She was staring at you so lovingly it made your heart melt. “Just as long as y’all don’t bring that PDA bull crap around us all the time.” Megan sighed. She walked over to you and took the tray of coffee and the bag of food, so casually as she trailed towards a table in the building.
“By the way, I love this for y’all. Y’all look so cute together.” Daniela practically jumped, jogging past you as she lightly nudged you and went towards where Megan was sitting. You already knew you were never going to live this down.
Lara was next to walk by you, “Just as long as you don’t get jealous when we perform M.I.A, then I’m down for this.” Oh, and you might wanna cover up those marks on your neck a little more.”
You chuckled at that, because yes you’ve seen those performances. They were always wild and crazy but at the same time, you weren’t going to make them change their routine just for you. But it was embarrassing with the fact that your neck that was littered in hickeys were on full display. Sophia stood before you, a smile on her face as she reached for a hug, Manon pulling away briefly so she could do so. “We all love you, and we love you for Manon. We know you’ll do right by her, just always keep her happy for us, okay?”
“Of course, Sophia. I love her way too much and—I’m too afraid of you to let you down.” Sophia laughed at that, her hand going to your shoulder and giving it a good squeeze, just before she walked over to where the rest of the girls were. Now it was just you and Manon standing there and when you turned back to her, she leaned forward to place a softer much firmer kiss to your lips. She wrapped her arms lovingly around you, both of you practically melting against one another. “That wasn’t particularly unpleasant.”
Manon pulled away, your hands dropping to her hips with a firm grip still on her. “It was bound to happen. I’m glad it turned out this way though.” Her smile lit up the whole room, your eyes softening more and more. “So what do you think about a hard launch?”
Your eyes went a little wide, her smile only widening. “Like a relationship hard launch or like a—“
She laughed and cut you off, “Yeah, a relationship hard launch, what else?” She had asked you.
“I would love for you to hard launch us. If I’m being honest, I wanted to do it last night but didn’t know what you’d say about that.”
She reached for her phone that was in her pocket, pulling it out and unlocking it. You watched as she scrolled through her apps and tapped on her profile. Instagram. She went to a post, it was a new one. She turned her phone and showed you. “Already has 5 million likes.” She stated, your eyes looking at her phone and seeing it was a photo dump of you and her. It had so many likes and comments and you could see that it was clearly still getting more. “I posted this when I woke up this morning. Hope you don’t mind.”
You gently placed a kiss to her lips, smiling down at her with nothing but love and adoration. “I’m glad you did it. I’m gonna do it too, because I love you so much and need you to know that you’re all I want. I know a post won’t prove that but it’ll prove to the world that you’re my world.”
She couldn’t be more happier. Knowing that the girls were looking at you both, phones out recording, giggling and all. They were happy for you. YOU were happy for you. This was all you needed and no matter what, Manon knew it was you.
It was always you.
—
meretmanon
5.7m Likes
Now you know world. It was always her. @____official ❤️
—
Authors Note — I really enjoyed writing this! I was trying to shorten it up because it was getting waaaaay too long! But I love Manon and can’t help but be so sad with every thing that’s going on. I hope that anyone who read this enjoyed! Requests are open and if you do requests, you can request short fics because this took entirely too long lmao. Thank you!
summary: bob gets drunk and confesses some things that make your thoughts spiral—then after a night of bad dreams, you overreact to natasha and bob's jet malfunctioning during a hop, which results in some heated words and a very heated locker room confrontation (based on req from @alyygx)
notes: this was really difficult to write, so i really hope it doesn't suck? sorry if it's a little flat, or if it feels off in places, i definitely had to force myself through it at some points... but i'm still really proud that i got it finished! and as always, please let me know what you think! (p.s. sorry if there are any weird formatting breaks, word was being annoying and i don't think it copied over... but it's possible?)
warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk bob, angst, miscommunication, jealousy, negative / spiralling thoughts, moderate overreacting (reader is a lil dramatic), italics, kind of heated arguments with both natasha and bob, probably some serious violation of naval law, and SMUT (m oral receiving, semi-public sex (on base), shower sex, unprotected p in v) 18+ ONLY MDNI!!!
word count: 16830
your callsign is dove
Bob Floyd doesn’t drink.
Usually.
You don’t even realise that he’s drunk until the fifth round of Never Have I Ever, when he blinks slowly at his beer like it betrayed him. And this is after a particularly harsh round of Where’s The Water that Mickey somehow convinced Bob to play.
Three tequila shots and a lot of targeted questions later, Bob is flushed and slumped against the arm of Jake’s couch, nursing his second bottle of beer. Granted, five standard drinks might not get a regular fighter pilot this drunk—but Bob Floyd is a lightweight, that much you’re sure of.
“Bob,” Mickey says, grinning across the coffee table. “I heard you the other day, man—drink up!”
Bob frowns. “Heard me what?”
Reuben chuckles. “Singing in the shower.”
Bob just blinks at him—slowly—head tilting slightly like he’s buffering.
“Oh my God,” Natasha smirks, “Floyd is drunk.”
You bite your cheek to keep from smiling too wide, watching Bob from across the couch where you’ve been sensibly sipping soda all night. It’s almost adorable. You can tell he’s fighting hard not to let it show, but the colour in his cheeks—and on the tip of his nose—and the way his eyes have gone all glassy are too much of a giveaway.
Bob Floyd is indeed drunk.
“Come on, Bobby, keep up,” Jake says with a shit-eating grin. “Javy said never has he ever sung in the shower—which, I don’t believe, by the way—” He gives Javy a pointed look. “But the rest of us have had a drink, and you...?”
Bob’s frown deepens as he lifts the beer to his lips, his nose scrunching up like the taste offends him.
“Maybe we should stop playing drinking games,” you offer—at which the whole room actually boos.
“Just because you’re sitting up there all high and mighty with your soda,” Mickey says, “doesn’t mean you have to mother all of us.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m not mothering you, Garcia. I’m looking out for future-you, the one who can't afford a forty-eight-hour hangover.”
Mickey’s eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Looking out for me, or for Bob?”
There’s a round of oohs then, and a couple of poorly disguised giggles from your half-drunk friends—but you ignore it.
“I’m looking out for all of you.”
Mickey opens his mouth to retort, but Bob speaks first.
“I don’t feel s’ good,” he mutters.
Every head turns toward him, eyes wide. He’s gone pale, except for the red flush on the tip of his nose, and his breathing is laboured. His hand rises slowly to his mouth as his eyes squeeze shut.
“Bathroom!” you shout, scrambling off the couch. “Come on, Bobby. Bathroom—now.”
There’s a chorus of laughter and teasing as you grab Bob by the arm and yank him off the couch. Mickey and Bradley—who are sitting on the floor—shuffle quickly out of your way, and you drag Bob through the apartment toward the bathroom.
He only just makes it to the toilet bowl.
He drops to his knees, hands gripping the sides, and throws up everything he’s eaten tonight—while you just stand there.
You’re not sure what to do. If it were Natasha, you’d hold her hair. If it were Jake, you’d laugh. If it were Mickey, you’d rub his back while biting back an I told you so. But Bob? You’ve never even seen Bob drunk, let alone on his knees in Jake’s bathroom, heaving into the toilet.
It also doesn’t help that you have a ridiculous, all-consuming crush on the man. A crush so deep, so completely devouring, that not even this is giving you the ick. Which it absolutely should. You should not be looking at him right now thinking about wrapping him in your arms and kissing his sweaty forehead until he feels better.
Like, no. That’s weird.
When he finally stops heaving, he hovers for a moment—face still over the bowl, breathing hard. His knuckles are white on the porcelain and his glasses are sitting slightly crooked on his nose. You want to offer to take them off for him, but you’re not really sure how to act. You’re never sure how to act around him—but right now, the wires in your head feel completely fried.
“You—you good?” you ask quietly.
He sinks back on his heels, chin dropping to his chest. “Feel dizzy.”
You crouch beside him and place a hand on his back, ignoring the way his warmth burns your palm. “Do you want some water?”
He nods slowly. “Yes, please.”
“Okay. Stay put.”
You jump to your feet and head for the kitchen, ignoring all the teasing and giggling in the living room.
“Is he still conscious?” Natasha calls, her voice edged with mild concern.
You nod. “Yeah. Lost all his dinner, though.”
“Maybe we should call him an Uber,” Bradley suggests.
Jake grins. “Or Dove can drive him home.”
Your face heats, but you don’t answer—you just spend a few extra seconds pretending to look for a bottle of water in the fridge, even though it’s sitting right there in front of you.
You wait until you hear them move on—new game, new round, new victim—before grabbing the water, shutting the fridge, and slipping back to the bathroom.
Bob hasn’t moved much. He’s sitting on the floor now, back resting against the bathtub, glasses pushed up into his hair, eyes shut.
“Hey,” you say softly, crouching in front of him. “Got some water.”
His eyes crack open—and he blinks at you a few times, like he’s not sure if you’re real, then gives you the tiniest, tired smile. “You’re nice,” he mumbles.
You hand him the bottle. “You’re drunk.”
He uncaps it carefully and sips slowly, sighing as he swallows. Then he lets his head fall back and his eyes slip shut again. “Don’t feel good.”
“I know,” you murmur. “Think you can stand?”
He opens one eye. “Why?”
“Because I’m taking you home.”
He pauses. “You—you don’t have to.”
“I know,” you say. “Come on, Bobby.”
You stand, holding out a hand—and he stares at it like you’ve just offered him a miracle. Then he slips his fingers into yours and lets you help him up. He sways a little, steadying himself with a hand on your shoulder, and you slide an arm around his waist before you can think too hard about it.
He leans into you without hesitation—heavy in the way that only a six-foot-something man who’s forgotten how to carry his own body weight can be. Your arm tenses instinctively to hold him up, and for a second, that’s all you can focus on—the solid weight of him, the quiet pressure where your bodies meet.
Then everything else hits you—hard.
He’s so warm. And solid. His arm drapes clumsily across your shoulders, his hip bumping yours as you guide him out of the bathroom, and your heart decides now is a great time to try to beat its way out of your chest.
This is so much worse than you expected.
He smells like clean laundry and cedarwood and maybe just a hint of tequila—and somehow that combination makes your knees weak. His breath ghosts across your cheek as he stumbles and leans more heavily into you, and holy shit, he’s basically wrapped around you now.
You try to focus on walking. One foot in front of the other. Normal things. Simple things. Not the feel of his fingers curling loosely into the fabric of your shirt, or the quiet shift of his body leaning heavier into yours with every step. Not the little huff of air he lets out every time he exhales, like just existing right now takes effort.
You are not thinking about how close his mouth is to your temple.
You are not thinking about how easy it would be to turn your head and kiss his jaw.
You are—absolutely, definitely—not thinking about how badly you want to take care of him forever.
You clear your throat. “You still with me?”
He hums, barely audible, and your grip on him tightens just a little.
You guide him back through the apartment, trying to ignore the amused glances from your friends as you shuffle past the lounge like some awkward, tangled two-person creature. Whatever game they’ve moved on to is still going, and Mickey is in the middle of a dramatic retelling of something that definitely didn’t happen—judging by the look on Reuben’s face.
“Hey,” Natasha calls, pushing off the couch. “You guys leaving?”
“Yeah,” you say, adjusting your grip on Bob. “Try to get him home before he forgets how to walk.”
“Need help getting him to the car?”
You shake your head. “We’ve got it. Right, Floyd?”
Bob blinks slowly, eyes unfocused as he glances down at you—then he turns to Natasha and mumbles, almost dreamily, “S’ pretty…”
Your chest tightens—just a fraction, but enough to notice.
Natasha snorts. “Thanks, Bob.”
He turns back to you and frowns—slow, confused—like he doesn’t understand why she’s laughing.
You keep your expression neutral, ignoring the green-eyed monster trying to claw its way out of your chest. “Alright, Casanova. Let’s get you out of here before you really embarrass yourself.”
Natasha moves ahead to open the front door, and you guide Bob carefully through it, calling a quick goodbye over your shoulder as the others shout after you.
“Bye!”
“Drive safe!”
“Use protection!” Jake—of course.
There’s a chorus of drunken laughter before the door clicks shut behind you—and just like that, it’s quiet.
You exhale slowly, trying to focus on your steps, on keeping Bob upright. But your brain is still stuck in that moment—caught on two little words he probably won’t even remember saying.
So pretty.
He didn’t say a name, but he didn’t have to. He was looking at Natasha. And you know you shouldn’t care. He’s drunk. Out of his mind. He’d probably say the same thing about Jake if he had a chance to stare too long into those pretty green eyes.
But still. It hits. Harder than you want to admit.
Because he’s the one you’ve been quietly crushing on for months—carrying the weight of it in silence, like some secret you’re too scared to say out loud. And maybe you knew he didn’t feel the same. Maybe you were always bracing for this. But hearing it—watching him slur soft compliments to someone else while clinging to you like you’re nothing more than the designated driver—that hurts more than you expected.
Not that you can blame him. Natasha is gorgeous. She’s cool and charming and easy to like. You don’t fault him for noticing. You just wish he hadn’t said it out loud. Not like that. Not with his arm slung around your shoulders, not while you were trying so hard not to fall even deeper for him.
You know it shouldn’t matter.
But it does.
And right now, it feels like it matters more than anything else.
“Come on, Bob,” you sigh as the elevator stops on the ground level. “Let’s get you home.”
You steer him through the lobby and out into the cool night air, guiding him down the short walkway to where your car is parked beneath a flickering streetlight. He’s quieter now, but no less heavy, one arm still slung around your shoulders like it belongs there.
But it doesn’t. And you need to remember that.
You open the passenger door and ease him down into the seat. He folds his legs in slowly, letting his head fall back against the headrest, eyes half-lidded but still tracking your movements as you reach across to buckle him in. His cheeks are pink from the alcohol—or maybe the night air—and there’s a dazed little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“You’re staring,” you murmur, trying not to look directly at him.
He hums, but doesn’t deny it.
With a deep breath, you close his door and circle around the car, forcing your hands to steady as you slide into the driver’s seat.
“You look sad,” he says quietly.
“I’m fine,” you lie, jamming the key into the ignition. “Just tired.”
The car rumbles to life. You adjust the heat, dial down the radio before your music can start blaring, then flick on your indicator and ease away from the curb.
Bob watches you silently, eyes a little clearer now. There’s a small frown between his brows when you glance at him, but it softens as you turn your focus back to the road.
“Let me know if you feel sick,” you say. “I’ll pull over.”
He nods once, eyes drifting closed again as his head lolls against the seat. “I don’t like being drunk.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “Then why’d you let Fanboy talk you into it?”
“I dunno.” His voice is softer now. “’M too boring. I wanna be fun.”
Your brows pull together. “You’re not boring. Who told you that?”
He doesn’t answer—just squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in deep through his nose. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, half-expecting him to be sick, but he exhales slowly—and then lets his head turn toward you again, those tired blue eyes finding your face.
“You don’t know, do you?” he murmurs.
You blink, checking your mirror before flicking on your indicator. “Know what?”
“How pretty she is.”
Your stomach twists, heart stuttering in your chest.
“I wanted to tell her,” he adds, words a little slurred. “Tried to.”
You swallow. “You did tell her, Bob.”
He shakes his head. “She didn’t hear me.”
You almost roll your eyes—but don’t. “Yes, she did.”
He turns back toward the windshield with a frustrated sigh, like a kid trying to explain something you just won’t get. And maybe that’s what makes it worse. Because even now—even with him slurring compliments about Natasha and leaning heavy against your passenger seat—he still looks so unfairly sweet. Pink cheeks, soft mouth, hair mussed from running his hands through it while he threw up his dinner.
If he wasn’t so goddamn him, you might’ve left him passed out on Jake’s bathroom floor. But no—you just have to be half in love with the man. And now here you are, driving him home while he whispers about how beautiful someone else is.
The drive doesn’t take long—barely ten minutes of quiet roads and warm white streetlights. Bob keeps his head tipped back against the seat, but his eyes stay open, watching you like he’s trying to memorise something. Or maybe he’s just trying not to be sick.
You pull into the lot beside his apartment building and park in one of the visitor spots. The engine cuts off with a shudder, and for a moment, neither of you move.
“Come on, Lieutenant,” you sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Home stretch.”
He mumbles something you don’t catch, but lets you help him out of the car. He’s steadier now—barely—but still leans on you as you guide him across the lot and through the front doors of his building.
The elevator ride is mercifully short—just the third floor. You keep him upright with an arm around his waist, fingers curled in the fabric of his jacket, trying not to notice how easily he fits against you. Like he belongs there.
The hallway blurs past as you walk him to his door. He fumbles with his keys, brows drawn in determined concentration, until the lock finally clicks open. You push the door in and steer him gently inside.
It’s warm, dimly lit, and perfectly tidy—but still cozy in a way that surprises you. Like he’s not home much, but still tries. There’s a jacket draped over the back of a dining chair, a pair of boots by the door, and an array of model planes lined up neatly on a shelf above the TV.
You help him toward the couch and ease him down into the cushions. He lets out a heavy sigh, head tipping back again. You hover for a beat, your eyes flicking toward the door.
“You need anything?” you ask.
He shakes his head, lids heavy. “Just… sit with me. For a bit.”
You hesitate, but then you nod—because it’s easier than saying no. Because you don’t really want to leave. Even if he does keep talking about Natasha.
You toe off your shoes and lower yourself onto the far end of the couch, keeping your distance.
“I tried to tell her,” he says after a moment, voice thick and quiet.
You resist the urge to sigh or roll your eyes or bolt for the door.
“Bob, you did tell her,” you say, keeping your voice steady.
He rolls his head from side to side. “I didn’t say it right.”
Your throat goes dry and your eyes drop to your lap.
“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. “Should’ve said it sooner. Before tonight. Before… tequila.”
You force a small smile. “Yeah, well. Tequila tends to make everything worse.”
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t respond. Just stares at nothing, blue eyes bleary and brows drawn like he’s trying to work something out.
“She’s not just pretty,” he murmurs, eventually. “She’s… all the time. You know? Even when she’s mad. Or quiet. Or trying not to laugh.”
Your heart gives a slow, aching lurch.
You nod—once—because you can’t bring yourself to say anything.
He goes quiet after that, eyes half-lidded, like the weight of his own words is catching up to him. You glance over, half-expecting him to nod off—but he shifts slightly, slouching deeper into the cushions and sliding one arm along the back of the couch. Not quite around you, but closer.
You pretend not to notice.
A minute passes. Then another. You sit still, hands folded in your lap, gaze fixed on a spot somewhere between the rug and the coffee table, trying not to fidget—trying to figure out how you can leave this sweet but incredibly drunk man without feeling guilty.
“Y’know…” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and honey, “you’re real warm.”
Your head turns—slowly—and you find him blinking at you with that same soft, open expression he always wears when he’s not paying attention to how much he’s giving away.
You raise an eyebrow. “Warm?”
He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. Like, you got that—like—sunshine heat. Not hot. Just…” He pauses, frowning like the words are slipping through his fingers. “Comfortable.”
You stare at him, caught off guard—and then, despite yourself, you laugh. A quiet, helpless sound, full of affection you wish you were better at hiding.
“Jesus, Floyd,” you mutter, shaking your head. “You’re really drunk.”
He grins—lazy, lopsided, impossibly endearing—and lets his head roll to the side. “Yeah. But m’not wrong.”
You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. The compliment shouldn’t mean anything—especially not when it’s coming from the same lips that called someone else pretty just ten minutes ago. But it does mean something. Because it’s him. Because it’s soft and unfiltered and just for you.
You don’t say anything—you can’t—you just stare down at your knees and hope the dim light hides the heat rising in your cheeks.
A moment later, the cushions shift again—just barely—and you feel the soft brush of his fingers at your wrist. He’s not holding your hand. Not quite. Just resting there.
You glance down, heart fluttering.
“Thanks for takin’ care of me,” he mumbles, already halfway to sleep. “You’re real good. Like… best I know.”
Your throat tightens.
He doesn’t mean it the way you want him to. He probably won’t even remember saying it. But you still let yourself lean in just a little—close enough to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of him radiating through the narrow space between you.
Just for a moment.
Just until he falls asleep.
And when he finally does, you wait just a little longer—watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing. His lashes rest delicately against flushed cheeks, and his mouth is parted just slightly—pink and relaxed, no trace of the words that made your chest ache a few minutes ago.
He’s beautiful. Even now. Especially now.
Then you shift—slow and careful as you ease off the couch, holding your breath until you’re certain you haven’t disturbed him. He doesn’t stir. Just sinks deeper into the cushions with a sleepy sigh, one hand slipping off his chest to rest beside him.
You find a blanket in a basket beside the couch and drape it gently over him. Then you grab a glass from the kitchen, fill it with water, and set it down on the coffee table with a couple of painkillers you found in the cabinet above the fridge.
You hesitate one last time before you go, glancing back at him from the doorway.
Still asleep.
Still beautiful.
Still not yours.
You close the door behind you with a soft click, and force your feet to move away from the man you’re almost certainly falling in love with.
- Bob -
Bob has never woken up so sore in his life.
Not after hell week at the Academy. Not even after the emergency ejection he and Natasha had to pull a few months back. Nothing compares to this—the pounding headache, the dry throat, the dull throb at the base of his skull from sleeping upright on a couch not made for someone his size. His mouth tastes like regret, his eyes are burning, and his heart feels like it’s trying to beat out of rhythm just to spite him.
God. Why does anyone drink?
He groans softly as he shifts all the way upright, his body creaking like an old ship. His back cracks, his neck pulls, and his stomach gives a slow, threatening roll as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Don’t die.
In front of him, on the coffee table, sits a full glass of water and two painkillers neatly placed on a napkin. He frowns, confused—his brain crawling through the fog to figure out when exactly he’d gotten up to—
And then it hits him.
You.
You were the one sitting across from him with that sugary little half-smile when Mickey started heckling him into playing drinking games.
You were the one who laughed that sweet laugh when he took his first shot of tequila like a rookie and winced so hard his glasses slipped down his nose.
You were the one who sipped your soda, calm and smug, when Javy threw out a never have I ever had sex in public—and he’d looked away so fast, cheeks burning, pants suddenly too tight. He can’t even remember who else drank. Just you. Just the way your lips curved around your straw like it was no big deal. Like you hadn’t just rewritten the entire architecture of his brain.
And after that—God, after all that—you were the one who helped him to the bathroom. Who rubbed his back. Who got him water. Who helped him into the car, buckled him in, walked him up to his apartment and didn’t even flinch when he all but collapsed into your side like some drunken deadweight.
You were the one who sat next to him on the couch and listened to him ramble.
About how warm you are.
How soft you are.
How pretty.
Oh, my God.
He scrubs both hands down his face, like he can erase the memory if he just tries hard enough.
He’s managed to keep it together for months. He hasn’t told anyone. Not even Natasha. And now, one night, one bad decision, one slurred drink too many, and he’s spilling it all over you like an idiot.
Telling you you’re warm like sunshine?
That you’re good?
He’s lucky you didn’t just dump him on the couch and leave. But you didn’t. You stayed. You made sure he had water. Painkillers. A blanket.
You took care of him.
And now he’s sitting here, mortified beyond belief, stomach churning for reasons that have nothing to do with tequila—and everything to do with the way he probably just ruined the one chance he had at something good.
After a good ten minutes of trying—and failing—to remember more of last night, Bob sighs and pushes to his feet. The room tilts, his head pounds, and his stomach threatens to evict the few sips of water he managed with the painkillers.
“Never drinking again,” he mutters to himself, voice rough.
Then—slowly—he makes his way to the bathroom, flinching as he flicks on the light. His reflection is a horror show—paler than usual, bloodshot eyes, deep shadows beneath them. His lips are cracked and white, his hair looks like he’s been electrocuted, and he smells like something recently exhumed.
He draws a deep breath and reaches past the shower curtain to turn on the shower. Then he strips off yesterday’s clothes, drops them in a pile on the floor, ditches his glasses, and steps into the tub.
The water is too hot, scalding almost, but he doesn’t adjust it. He just stands there with his eyes closed, letting it beat against his shoulders until his skin turns pink and his fingertips start to wrinkle. As if he can sweat out the memories clinging to him. As if he can burn the words off his tongue, the ones he knows he said but wishes he hadn’t. He wants to come out clean—clear-headed and no longer haunted by your voice saying you’re really drunk.
But it doesn’t work.
You’re still there. Behind his eyes, in his chest, beneath his ribs. He can still feel the ghost of your arm around his waist, your hand on his back, the steady way you helped him out of the car like he was something worth holding on to.
He brushes his teeth—twice—but it doesn’t help. He can still taste tequila. Still taste regret.
Eventually, he pulls on a pair of old sweatpants and a faded Navy Athletics hoodie, and makes his way to the kitchen, blinking hard against the headache still pressing at his temples. He manages to put a slice of bread in the toaster, butter it, and eat half before his stomach turns and he abandons the rest of it.
He drags himself over to the couch, slumps onto it, and pulls the blanket over his lap, fishing his phone out from between the cushions. He hasn’t checked it all morning—hadn’t even looked when he got home last night—but there’s nothing urgent. A few spam notifications. A weather alert. Nothing from you.
Just two texts from Mickey. One from earlier in the morning:
FANBOY: u alive or should we start carving your name into the memorial wall?
And another, more recent:
FANBOY: I’m coming over. Prepare for judgment.
Bob groans and lets the phone fall to his chest. He considers replying, telling him not to bother, but he knows it won’t matter—Mickey’s probably already halfway here.
And sure enough, right on cue—
Knock, knock, knock.
With a long sigh—and unsteady steps—Bob makes his way to the door and pulls it open.
“You look awful,” Mickey says by way of greeting, holding up a paper bag. “I brought Pedialyte, ibuprofen, and a sausage roll. Which one do you want first?”
Bob squints at the bag like it might kill him. “None of the above.” He steps aside to let Mickey in, letting the door swing shut behind him.
“Suit yourself,” Mickey says cheerfully, dropping the bag on the coffee table and collapsing onto the couch. “Dude. Seriously. You look bad. Like… medieval plague bad.”
“I’m aware,” Bob mutters, dragging a hand down his face as he sinks onto the cushions beside his friend.
“If I’d known you were this close to death’s door, I would’ve brought flowers and a priest.”
“Keep talking and I’ll throw up in your lap,” Bob warns.
Mickey grins. “There he is. There’s my boy.”
Bob rolls his eyes and sinks further down, letting his eyes flutter shut as his head falls back.
“Wanna talk about it?” Mickey asks.
“Talk about what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The tequila shots. The beer. The part where you threw up in Hangman’s bathroom.”
Bob cracks one eye open. “Hm. Not really.”
“You kissed Payback on the cheek when he brought you a drink,” Mickey goes on, unperturbed. “And told Coyote he could be the next Captain America. Then you lost four rounds of Never Have I Ever, and I’m pretty sure you said yes to something about a sex swing in Croatia—which, by the way, I will be following up on—”
“I did not—” Bob starts, sitting up straighter. “Wait. Did I?”
Mickey just laughs.
Bob exhales heavily. “I didn’t do anything too embarrassing, right?”
“Well, you told Hangman he had ‘beautiful eyes’. That’s probably going to haunt you for a while.” Mickey pauses. “But nah. You were mostly just… sweet. A little dazed. Giggled a lot.”
Bob leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. He breathes deeply, trying to ignore the nausea still curling in his gut—made worse by whatever godawful body spray Mickey’s wearing.
Then, quietly, he mutters, “I told her I think she’s pretty.”
Mickey frowns. “You told Dove?”
Bob nods slowly. “Like… repeatedly.”
Mickey snorts. “Oh no. Please tell me you didn’t confess your undying love half-faced on Don Julio.”
Bob grimaces. “Not… exactly.”
“That’s not a no.”
“I think I called her sunshine,” Bob mumbles.
Mickey throws his head back, laughing. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Holy shit,” Mickey leans in, eyes gleaming. “You really like her, don’t you?”
Bob groans. “I’m never drinking again.”
“I don’t see the problem,” Mickey says, still grinning. “If she took you home and tucked you in, she clearly didn’t hate it.”
“She hasn’t texted me.”
“Yet,” Mickey says firmly. “It’s barely eleven. She probably thinks you’re still asleep—or hugging the toilet bowl. And come on, man. You were a lot last night. She’s probably still processing.”
“Great,” Bob mutters. “Just what every girl wants—too much Robert Floyd.”
Mickey grabs a throw pillow and chucks it at him. “Shut up. You’re adorable.”
Bob doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue either. He just sighs and lets the pillow rest in his lap.
Mickey watches him for a beat, then asks, “You want some Pedialyte now, or do you need to flirt with death a little longer?”
Bob hesitates. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“That’s the spirit.”
- You -
You fall onto your couch at exactly eleven o’clock. You’ve already done all the things that usually make a Sunday feel like a Sunday—sheets changed, dishwasher emptied, a slow grocery run while still half asleep. You even stopped for a coffee on the way back, hoping maybe the caffeine would help clear your head, shake something loose.
It didn’t.
Your phone’s been on Do Not Disturb for most of the morning, flipped screen-down on the kitchen counter while you folded laundry or stared into the fridge like something inside might offer you answers. But you’ve still tapped the screen more times than you care to admit. Just to check. Just in case.
Even now, half-reclined on the couch with one leg dangling off the side, you tug it out of your pocket and hold it up like it might have changed in the last five seconds.
The screen lights up.
Still nothing.
He still hasn’t texted.
Which isn’t surprising, really. He was slurring when you helped him out of the car—barely keeping his eyes open when you sat him down and stayed just long enough to be sure he wouldn’t get sick or wander off somewhere to sleep on the floor. He probably doesn’t even remember you were there.
Or maybe he does. Maybe he remembers everything—and wishes he didn’t. Maybe he regrets it. Maybe he’s embarrassed about what he hadn't meant to say out loud—that thing about Natasha.
Not that you expect a message. Not really. You don’t expect some long, gushing paragraph about how grateful he is or how sweet you were or how sorry he is for getting so drunk he couldn’t make it up the stairs on his own. You don’t expect a text saying he remembers what he said and that it isn’t true. That he doesn’t look at Natasha like that. That it was the tequila talking. Not Bob.
You don’t expect anything like that.
You’re just... hoping.
The group chat has been mildly active this morning—Javy posted a blurry selfie with an ice pack on his forehead, Natasha sent a string of skull emojis, and Jake contributed several photos of the wreckage left behind in his apartment, including what appears to be a half-eaten burrito wedged into the couch cushions.
But nothing from Bob. Not last night. Not this morning.
You haven’t texted him either.
Part of you wants to. Just to check in. Just to make sure he’s alive and—well, not concussed. But you just can’t. You can’t bring yourself to open that thread, to type those little letters and hit send.
Because if he wants to talk to you—if he wants to talk about last night—he’ll text you.
And if he doesn’t?
Well... that’s your answer. Simple.
You sigh and sit upright, lobbing your phone to the other end of the couch like it personally offended you.
There’s no point spiralling about it. He’s probably just sleeping. Or nursing a brutal hangover. Or too embarrassed to face anyone, not just you.
It doesn’t mean anything.
And you’re not going to sit here and twist yourself into knots over a few drunk comments and a silence that might not even be about you.
You're fine.
It’s fine.
Everything is fine.
After a quiet afternoon spent half-watching reruns of an old CW show—phone face-down on the couch beside you—you finally decide to run a bath. Something about the warm water might help, you figure. Or at least give your brain a break.
You even go to the small effort of digging out some bath salts someone gave to you last Christmas and lighting a couple of candles—mostly for the ritual of it. Then you flip off the lights, strip out of your clothes, and sink into the tub with a sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut.
But half a second later—
Ping!
Your phone—no longer on Do Not Disturb—lights up on the vanity just an arm’s length away.
You hesitate, but only for a second, before drying one hand on the towel, leaning over, and picking it up.
Bob.
It’s in the group chat, but you still feel that little rush of relief. That he’s alive. That he’s awake. That he decided to say something.
He’s sent a selfie—sprawled on a couch with a damp towel folded over his forehead, cheeks flushed, his glasses off. His expression is somewhere between dramatic and pitiful, lips turned in an exaggerated pout, big blue eyes aimed squarely at the camera. And you can’t help the small, involuntary smile that creeps across your face.
God. How does he always manage to look like that? Like someone’s kicked a puppy and he’s taking it personally. Like all he needs is a warm blanket and a forehead kiss and maybe someone to promise him the world won’t end just yet.
A message pops up beneath it:
I’m never drinking again. Ever.
You let out a quiet laugh, the sound echoing off the tile. And then—because you’re completely, hopelessly, inescapably soft—you stare at the photo for a beat longer than you should. Pulse humming. Chest aching. Head filling with images that aren't at all helpful. Him in your doorway. That lazy smile. The slow, sleepy way he’d looked at you last night.
You sink a little lower in the water, trying to chase the thoughts out.
It was just the alcohol. Just the moment. Just a passing, drunken compliment he probably doesn't even remember. It wasn’t real. Not in the way you want it to be.
He said a lot more about Natasha than he did about you.
Sure, he called you sunshine—but that doesn’t mean anything.
You’re not going to overthink it. There’s no point. And you’re definitely not going to start rehashing everything else he said.
You just need to stop thinking.
Relax.
Enjoy your bath.
Don’t think about Bob. Or his eyes. Or his soft smile. Or the fact that you’ll have to see him tomorrow and confront every stupid emotion that you’ve been trying to ignore for the past twenty-four hours.
-
You barely sleep.
You spend most of the night tossing and turning, waking every hour from a different version of the same nightmare—each one starring Bob Floyd. Each one worse than the last.
The first is expected. Nothing too strange. You’re back at Jake’s apartment, but it’s quiet. Just you and Bob. He’s drunk, but not sloppy—smiling at you like he’s been waiting all night to be alone with you. His words are slurred, soft around the edges, but his gaze doesn’t waver.
“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, eyes warm, fingertips brushing your jaw.
And then—
“Natasha…”
Your eyes snap open to the dark ceiling above. Your chest is tight, your pulse won’t settle, and it's suddenly too warm. You shift and roll to the other side, pushing the covers halfway down your body—trying to convince yourself it was just the wires of your subconscious getting crossed. Nothing more.
And eventually, you drift off again.
The second dream is stranger. You’re standing on the tarmac, watching jets land one by one. Callsigns crackle over the radio—Phoenix, Payback, Coyote, Fanboy. But never Bob.
You keep scanning the horizon—the perfectly clear sky—but the tower says nothing. Natasha is there, helmet in hand, nodding like everything’s normal. But her WSO isn’t there. Bob isn’t there. And no one seems to notice.
When you ask where he is, they blink at you.
“Who?”
You wake with a jolt, air dragging rough through your throat. You throw the covers all the way off this time, fingers pressing into the mattress like you need to anchor yourself. It was just a dream. Nothing real. But your chest still aches like you’ve lost something—something vital you can’t name.
You fall asleep again eventually, but not for long.
The third dream is quiet. Almost eerily so. You’re home, sitting on the edge of the couch in the dark—phone in your lap, the screen black. You don’t know what time it is, you just know you’re waiting.
When the screen finally lights up, you flinch. It’s Maverick.
“Hello?”
“There was an accident,” he says, voice calm. “Bob… didn’t make it.”
No detail. No apology. Just a flat statement of fact.
And then silence.
You wake up gasping, lungs pulling too much air too fast. You’re still alone in your room, knuckles white against your bedsheet, nausea twisting deep in your stomach. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.
But God, it felt like the truth.
It takes ten minutes of staring at the ceiling and counting your own breaths before you manage to fall asleep again. But you wish you hadn’t.
Because the last dream is the worst.
You’re in the air. Mid-hop. Everyone is flying too close, their jets brushing into formation like magnets. Their faces are hidden behind masks. Their voices crackle with static and urgency. You can’t understand what they’re saying—but they sound afraid.
You glance down.
And see blood.
Your gloves are red. So is your chest. Thick, dark blood stains your suit—fresh and everywhere. Sticky between your fingers. Spattered up your sleeves.
You don’t know where it came from. You don’t know whose it is.
You try to call for Bob. Try to find his voice in the chaos. But the screaming starts before you can get a word out. And it’s not over the comms.
It’s inside your helmet.
You wake with a rasping cry, bolting upright, chest heaving. Your hands are shaking. Your heart is thundering. Your whole body is drenched in sweat.
You sit there for a long time—just breathing. Just reminding yourself what’s real. Telling yourself that Bob is fine. That you’re fine.
But it doesn’t help. Not really.
Because how is that fair?
Four bad dreams in one night. Four twisted omens in a row. Four reminders—loud and clear—that no matter what you do, you’re going to lose him. That it’s already written.
That it’s only a matter of time.
You don’t fall back asleep. You can’t.
It’s barely four a.m., but there’s no way you’re risking another dream—not after all that. So you throw your legs over the side of the mattress, plant your feet on the carpet, and force yourself out of bed.
You take a long, hot shower and make a full breakfast—eggs, toast, even some blistered tomatoes. You eat about half of it before your stomach twists too tight to finish, so you scrape the rest into a container for later, pretending that makes it less of a waste.
Then you sit in front of the TV, but you’re not watching. Not really. The volume is low, the coffee in your hand has already gone lukewarm, and your mind won’t stop looping. Every image, every sound, every dream. Over and over and over.
You’ve never had dreams like that before. Not all at once. Not so vivid, so loud. It’s like your subconscious was trying to shake you awake. Trying to tell you something.
Maybe it’s a warning.
Maybe it’s a sign.
You want to believe you’re smarter than that. More rational. But how do you ignore something that felt so real? That many dreams, that brutal, that clear?
Panic rises hard in your chest—fast and sharp and hot. Your heart flutters. Your stomach lurches. You dig your fingernails into the cushion beneath you, trying to tether yourself, but your hands won’t stop shaking.
An hour passes. Maybe more. You just sit there—spiralling.
Then your mouth floods with saliva—that sick, unmistakable warning—and you jump to your feet, already halfway to the bathroom when your phone chimes. Loud. Sharp.
It’s your alarm—your backup alarm. The one you set for the absolute latest you can leave without being late for work. The oh-shit alarm.
Which means you don’t have time to be sick. Or to panic. Or to think.
You grab your bag—keys, wallet, ID card—shove your feet into your boots, and run out the door.
The drive to base is a blur. You don’t remember the lights, the traffic, the turns—only the moment your car is in the lot and you’re jogging across the tarmac toward the squadron building. The second you push the doors open, you can hear voices echoing down the hall, which means Maverick hasn’t called the room to attention yet.
You slow your pace as you make your way down the corridor, pulling in steady breaths so you don’t look like you sprinted the whole way here. Then you turn into the briefing room.
“Well, look who decided to join us,” Jake drawls from the back row. “I was about to send out a search party.”
You don’t reply—just shoot him a flat look.
“Hey,” Natasha says from her seat, a small crease between her brows. “You alright?”
You nod once and drop into the chair closest to the door, furthest from everyone else. Natasha is only two seats down, and beside her—Bob. Clean shave. Hair perfect. That crisp flight suit making his shoulders look broader than usual. He’s smiling faintly at something Natasha said, and it twists in your gut before you can stop it.
You drop your gaze to your lap, focusing on a loose thread on your sleeve until Maverick breezes in and calls the room to attention.
He starts running through the plan for the day, even though you went over all of it Friday afternoon. It’s a flight day, which normally wouldn't be so bad—if you weren’t paired with Natasha and Bob. Which means not only are they both going to be in your ear during the hop, but you’ll have to spend most of the day in the ready room with them—watching them talk, watching him smile—waiting for your slot at the very end of the schedule.
Eventually, Maverick dismisses Jake, Reuben, and Mickey to the hangar and the rest of you to the ready room. You’re the first out the door, quick down the hall, and into the room before anyone else. You head straight for the back and drop into a chair, pulling out your phone like you’ve just remembered something vitally important—anything to keep your eyes down and your thoughts to yourself.
The others file in and Bradley makes a beeline for the ancient coffee machine, smacking it to life. Bob and Javy sink into the couch near the radio, heads bent over some quiet conversation you can’t quite hear—and Natasha walks straight up to you.
“You seem off today,” she says—no preamble.
“I’m fine,” you mutter, eyes locked on your phone. “Just tired.”
She studies you for a beat—eyes sharp, searching—before leaning back against the desk behind her.
“So… how was the rest of your weekend?”
“Fine.”
“How was the drive home with Bob on Saturday night?”
Your pulse kicks, but your voice stays level. “Fine.”
She tilts her head. “How are you feeling about today’s hop?”
“Fine.”
“Seriously?”
You glance up, brows raised. “Yes. Seriously. Everything is fine.”
You don't mean to be snappy, but it slips out anyway. You’re tired, on edge, and jealous—and the woman at the centre of it all is standing right in front of you. Normally you’d swallow it down—bury it—but after a night of barely any sleep, your fuse is short.
“Damn,” Bradley says, appearing with his mug in hand, “someone’s feisty today.”
Natasha is still watching you. She doesn’t look hurt or upset—just curious, like she’s trying to work out why you’re acting like this. Because she knows this isn’t you. She knows something is wrong.
“I barely slept,” you say, softer now. “I’m sorry. I’m just… not in the mood.”
She lifts a brow. “Not in the mood to talk to your friends?”
“Not in the mood to talk—period.” The words come out sharper than intended, but you can’t take them back—the green-eyed monster living in your chest won’t let you.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’ll leave you alone.” She pushes off the desk and steps away, then glances over her shoulder. “But don’t let whatever this is affect your flying.”
Guilt stirs low in your gut as you lower your eyes back to your phone. Bradley’s hand lands gently on your shoulder, giving a quick, reassuring squeeze before he moves away to join the others by the radio.
After a beat, you glance up through your lashes—and catch Bob looking right at you. His eyes go wide, cheeks flushing pink, and then—nothing. No smile. No nod. He turns back to the others like you don't even exist.
And he keeps it that way. All day. No acknowledgement.
Not when your names are called over the speakers.
Not on the cart ride to the hangar.
Not during pre-flight, inspections, or the final briefing.
The first time he speaks to you all day is over comms, thirty thousand feet up, running a check.
“Maverick to all stations, comms check. Over.”
“Dove, comms clear,” you respond, voice steady despite the lump in your throat.
Then Natasha’s voice cuts through the static, clear and confident. “Phoenix, loud and clear.”
And finally, Bob’s voice—quieter than usual but unmistakably his. “Bob, reading you.”
You swallow hard and exhale slowly, your eyes flicking toward Natasha’s jet just ahead, the faint silhouette of Bob visible behind her.
You’re doing your best not to think about last night—about those nightmares—but up here, surrounded by nothing but sky and cold metal, the memories cling tight, vivid and unrelenting. Your pulse pounds in your ears, drowning out Maverick’s steady instructions.
You follow along, scanning the sky, then your instruments, then back again—your head spinning with the endless cross-checks. Your grip on the stick tightens until your knuckles turn white. You know, logically, that you’ve done this a thousand times before. You know there’s nothing to fear.
But today feels different. And maybe it’s just your nerves, or your paranoia playing tricks—but you can’t shake the sense that something is wrong.
After twenty minutes of easy flying and a lull in comms, you notice something. Natasha and Bob’s jet suddenly rocks, a subtle but unmistakable tremble that sets your pulse racing. You squint through your canopy, trying to pinpoint what’s wrong. It’s almost imperceptible—but it isn’t normal.
You flick your comm switch, keeping your voice even despite the tightening in your chest. “Phoenix, your jet’s handling looks off. You sure everything’s okay over there?”
Natasha’s reply is smooth, steady. “We’re fine, Dove. Just minor turbulence. Nothing to worry about.”
Your eyes don’t leave their jet as it shudders again, your heart pounding hard enough you’re sure they can hear it through the radio. Your chest rises and falls too fast.
“Maverick to Phoenix and Bob, status check. All systems nominal?”
“Copy, Maverick,” Natasha answers, but then her tone shifts. “Fuel’s looking—wait, hold on. We’ve got an unusual fuel imbalance warning. Left wing tank is reading low, right wing high. Bob, you seeing the same?”
“Affirmative,” Bob’s voice is clipped, calm but serious. “Left tank down by nearly three-hundred pounds. Right tank steady. Running cross-feed now to balance.”
“Maintain heading,” Maverick instructs. “Monitor fuel flow and report any changes. How’s the transfer rate?”
“Nominal transfer rate, but imbalance isn’t correcting. Left tank keeps dropping faster than it’s filling,” Natasha reports, unease creeping in.
“Suggests possible leak or valve malfunction,” Bob adds. “Running diagnostics.”
Your hands start to shake despite your best efforts, pulse pounding in your throat. You keep glancing toward their jet, watching them handle this with practiced calm while your stomach twists in panic.
You try to steady yourself, but the silence over comms drags on, and your nerves fray. You need to hear something. Anything. You need to know they’re okay. You need to stop imagining flames, ejecting pilots, and worse.
“Phoenix, what’s going on over there?” you break the silence, voice tight. “That imbalance is getting worse. You need to declare an emergency if there’s a leak.”
Natasha’s voice returns, still calm and collected. “Dove, negative. We’re on top of it. No leak indications. Bob’s running valve checks now. Maverick, we’ll advise if status changes.”
The knot in your stomach tightens, panic bubbling up like a tide you can’t hold back. A few months ago, you watched them eject after a bird strike—you feared for them then, but now? It’s different. They’re your friends. Your family. And Bob... he’s so much more. You can’t lose them.
“No, listen—fuel imbalance can cause roll issues,” you say, voice trembling. “I’m getting a warning on my HUD too. Formation sensors say you might lose control if it worsens. Want me to take lead and help stabilise?”
“Dove, stand down,” Bob interrupts, his tone hesitant but firm. “We have it handled. No need to complicate things. Maverick, isolating problem now.”
“Handled?” you repeat, disbelief sharpening your words. “That doesn’t sound handled. I’m not telling you how to do your job, but if you don’t act fast, this’ll become a real problem.”
“Dove, this is why we train,” Natasha snaps, frustration clear now. “Bob and I know our aircraft. Trust us. You focus on your own jet.”
“I’m just trying to keep us all safe!” you fire back.
“Enough,” Maverick cuts in, voice sharp and commanding. “Everyone, breathe. Dove, Bob and Phoenix are managing it. Bob, update me every minute. Dove, maintain position and stay ready to assist. No sudden moves.”
“Understood, Mav,” Bob replies. “Running manual balance procedure now. Should level out soon.”
You don’t say anything after that. Not because you’re calm—but because you’re not sure your voice won’t crack if you open your mouth again.
The silence over the radio is heavier than engine noise, heavier than altitude, heavier than gravity. You keep formation, hands tense on the stick, eyes flitting back to the silhouette of Natasha and Bob’s jet just ahead—waiting for the next wobble, the next slip, the next warning light.
But it never comes.
“Fuel flow has stabilised,” Bob reports after two long minutes. “Manual balance is holding. No further discrepancies.”
“Copy that,” Maverick says, voice calm but wary—like he’s waiting to see who’s going to blow next. “We’ll cut the hop early. Everyone maintain spacing and begin RTB. Keep comms clear unless it’s mission critical.”
You acknowledge him with a short “Copy,” then fall back slightly, trying to breathe through the adrenaline still thrumming through your veins.
The flight back is quiet. Too quiet.
No one says a word—not Bob, not Natasha, not even Maverick. The silence should be comforting, but it isn’t. It leaves you too much time to replay the argument in your head—your voice sharp, your tone panicked, the way Bob cut you off without even hesitating.
You taxi in last, eyes flicking toward their jet on the tarmac. The canopy lifts, and Bob climbs out, dropping from the ladder with practiced ease—without even glancing your way. Natasha follows, speaking to him as they start toward the hangar—and again, neither of them look at you.
You kill your systems, climb out, and by the time your boots hit the ground, the only evidence of the afternoon’s drama is the tight ache in your chest and the adrenaline you haven’t quite managed to shake.
You’re safe. They’re safe.
But it sure as hell doesn’t feel like a win.
Especially not when Natasha storms toward you, her stride sharp and purposeful. She stops just short of you—close enough that you feel the heat of her glare, far enough to keep up appearances.
“You want to tell me what the hell that was up there?” she says, voice low and taut with frustration. “Because from where I was sitting, it felt a lot like you didn’t trust us to do our jobs.”
You finish unclipping your helmet and look at her, heart racing. “I was just trying to keep you safe.”
She exhales sharply through her nose. “We didn’t need saving. We had it under control.”
“Did you?” you ask, harsher than you mean to. “Because from where I was sitting, you were losing fuel and altitude and acting like it was nothing.”
Her jaw tightens. “And from where I was sitting, you were losing your damn composure over something we train for all the time.”
You glance around—the tarmac is buzzing with motion, but no one seems to be paying attention to the two of you.
“You could’ve declared an emergency,” you say, voice dropping. “You should have.”
Her brows shoot up. “So now you’re telling me how to fly?”
“No,” you bite out. “I’m saying if something happened to you—if something happened to him—”
“You don’t get to play the protective card when it comes at the expense of the team,” Natasha cuts in—her voice is still low, but the edge is razor sharp. “We had a job to do. We did it.”
You open your mouth, but she’s already turning away.
“Next time? Trust us,” she throws over her shoulder, walking back toward the hangar without waiting for a reply.
And you’re left standing alone on the tarmac, helmet in hand, adrenaline still surging through your veins—and the sting of her words settling deep beneath your ribs.
You walk through post-flight like you’re on autopilot, following each step by habit more than focus, and then debrief with the ground crew. You nod when you're supposed to, say all the right things—but you’re barely paying attention. Your eyes keep drifting to the group across the tarmac—Maverick, Natasha, Bob, and the crew chief, deep in conversation beside their jet. They’re obviously going over the fuel imbalance, and normally, you’d be right there with them—listening, learning.
Not today.
Bob is standing stiffly, arms folded tight, a small crease between his brows. He doesn’t look your way. Doesn’t say a word. Just listens, nods, offers the occasional clipped reply. The silence from him is deafening. And you know it has something to do with you.
You glance down, pretending to double-check your own paperwork, but your mind is a million miles away.
The problem is, you don’t know what you did. Not just now, in the air—but before that. Maybe even back on Saturday night. Something shifted. Something went wrong. And now you’ve only made it worse—running your mouth like that, second-guessing his and Natasha’s judgment.
Maybe he’s still embarrassed about how drunk he got. Or what he said about Natasha. Maybe he’s worried you’ll tell her. Or maybe he just regrets the whole thing—and doesn’t want to deal with you anymore.
You replay every moment, searching for the crack where things split open. And still, you come up empty.
“Alright, team,” Maverick calls, cutting through your thoughts. “Good effort today. We cut the hop short for the right reasons, and we all got back on the ground safely.”
You look up, and Natasha meets your eyes for a moment—her stare cool, unreadable. Bob doesn’t look at you at all. He just folds his arms tighter across his chest.
Maverick continues, “Debrief in the ready room. Full honesty. No sugar-coating. We don’t get better by pretending everything went fine. Understood?”
“Understood,” you say with the others, though your voice sticks in your throat.
You all climb into the cart. No one says a word. The silence follows you all the way to the squadron building, and by the time you step into the ready room, it’s heavier than ever. The air feels too thin, the lighting too harsh. You take the seat closest to the door and Bob settles at the opposite end, eyes fixed on the table, fingers drumming quietly. Natasha sits beside him, posture easy—but you can tell her jaw is still set.
Maverick starts the debrief, his tone even, but your focus is shot. You can’t stop your thoughts from spiralling. You sit there staring at the scuffs on the linoleum floor, wondering when exactly it all went wrong. Wondering if you’re just imagining everything—or worse, if you’re not.
By the time Maverick wraps up with a few final notes, you’re barely breathing. And the second he dismisses you, you're on your feet.
You don’t wait for the others. You grab your gear and walk fast—too fast—straight out into the hall and down toward the locker rooms, the echo of your boots the only sound. You need a second. A breath. Anything to shake the tight grip of panic clawing at your ribs.
You just need to be alone.
You burst into the women’s locker room and drop onto the bench between the rows of lockers. You brace your elbows on your knees, bury your face in your hands, and try to remember how to breathe. But the cool, sterile air does nothing to settle the heat in your chest. With a heavy sigh, you sit up, tug off your gloves and shove your flight suit down around your waist.
You didn’t mean to lose it out there. In the air. On the tarmac.
But you did.
Bob couldn’t even look at you this morning—and now, after the way you acted, he probably hates you. Or at the very least, thinks less of you.
He’s probably with Natasha right now, talking about you. Laughing about you. Calling you a jerk for snapping at them. And honestly? You wouldn’t blame them. You were a jerk.
You replay every moment again and again in your head again, searching for a way to make it make sense. Trying to convince yourself this isn’t the end of something. That you haven’t just undone all the trust you spent so long building.
You breathe in. Hold it. Let it out slow. Then do it again.
And again.
The room is silent except for the distant buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of the base beyond the walls. You’re just starting to settle—your pulse finally dipping below emergency levels—when the door creaks open.
And footsteps.
Then the distinct, unmistakable click of the lock turning.
Your head snaps up.
“Bob?”
He steps forward slowly, like you’re some wounded animal he’s afraid to spook. His eyes dart around the room—taking in everything except you. The tiled walls, the metal lockers, the fact that he’s probably never set foot in here before.
“Hey,” he mutters, voice low—but it lands sharp in the quiet space.
You blink at him, startled. “What are you doing in here?”
He hesitates, still not looking directly at you. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” you mumble, sitting up straighter.
He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands as deep into his pockets as they’ll go. “You don’t seem fine.”
“Well, I am,” you say, firmer.
There’s a beat of silence—and your heart is pounding so hard, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.
“I—I just want to know why,” he says eventually.
You exhale sharply and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Why what?”
“You know what.”
You let out a bitter little laugh and shake your head, eyes fixed on the locker in front of you. “I was just being overcautious. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Well, that’s the only answer I’ve got right now,” you say, sharper this time. “So if you’re here to yell at me too, maybe just don’t.”
“I’m not here to yell,” he says softly. “I’m here because I want to understand.”
You sigh. “I don’t know, Bob. I just—I freaked out. I saw the numbers and panicked. I just didn’t want to lose—” You cut yourself off with a shake of your head. “It doesn’t matter.”
He steps forward, eyes wide behind his glasses. “It matters to me.”
You press your lips together and nod once, throat tight. “Well, it was stupid. And it’s done.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t leave. Just keeps standing there like he’s got all the time in the world, like he’s not going to let you hide behind flimsy excuses or brush him off. And the silence presses in again, heavier than before.
“It’s not done,” he says—quiet, but steady. “I’m not done.”
You stare at him—finally locking eyes—your jaw tight. “What do you want me to say, Bob?”
“I want the truth.”
You laugh again, dry and humourless. “Yeah? Which part?”
His expression doesn’t change. “All of it.”
Your mouth opens, then shuts. Your chest aches. There’s too much to say and no good way to say any of it. You can’t tell him you’re jealous. You can’t tell him you’re in love with him. So instead, you go for the sharpest edge.
“Well, what’s your problem then, huh?” you snap. “You don’t message me all day yesterday. You don’t look at me this morning. You barely speak to me on the flight line. So if we’re handing out truths, maybe start with that.”
He blinks like you’ve slapped him. “That’s—”
“I don’t know what I did,” you go on, heat rising fast in your voice. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, Bob, I really have. How did so much change in twenty-four hours? If you’re pissed at me, just say it. Stop looking at me like I’m the one who—who broke something.”
“You didn’t break anything,” he mutters through a breath. “And I’m not pissed at you.”
“Sure doesn’t feel that way.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then what is simple, Bob?” you ask, standing with your arms crossed. “Is the way you feel about Natasha simple? Was getting drunk and telling me how much you like her simple? Because it sure as hell didn’t seem very complicated on Saturday night when you were slurring about how pretty you think she is.”
The words slip out before you can fully process them—and your face burns immediately.
His eyes go wide. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
“Shit,” you mutter, covering your face with both hands. “Fuck. I—I’m sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean—”
“Natasha?”
You peek between your fingers to find him standing right in front of you now—brows furrowed, cheeks flushed, eyes full of confused disbelief.
“I—I wasn’t talking about Natasha,” he stammers, “I wasn’t—oh, God. You thought I meant—”
You drop your hands. “Bob, I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”
He shakes his head quickly, stepping even closer. “No—wait, hold on. You thought I meant Natasha? That that’s who I—no. No, you’ve got it all wrong.”
You rear back a little, frowning. “Well, forgive me for getting the wrong impression when you were six drinks deep and rambling about how beautiful she is.”
“I—I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “I swear. I wasn’t even—God, I wasn’t thinking about her. You’ve got this all backwards.”
You fold your arms across your chest, retreating half a step toward the bench. Your heart is pounding again—loud in your ears, high in your throat.
“Then what were you thinking, Bob? Because from where I was standing, it looked pretty damn obvious.”
He runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “No, you don’t get it—what I said wasn’t about Natasha. It was never about her.”
You scoff. “Sure.”
“Please—listen.” He takes another step forward, then hesitates. His mouth opens. Closes. He frowns, eyes narrowing. “But if—if you thought I was talking about Natasha… is that why you were mad?”
The words hit you square in the chest.
You freeze.
“I wasn’t mad,” you say quickly. “I was—” You stop, the words catching in your throat.
“You were mad,” he insists.
“I wasn’t mad!”
He flinches slightly at your tone.
You take a deep breath and drop your gaze. “I wasn’t mad,” you repeat, quieter this time, “I just—”
You bite the inside of your cheek. You can feel it building—the real reason, the words you’ve buried so deep they’ve started to choke you. But you can’t let them out. Not yet. Not when it’s this messy. Not when your heart feels like it’s dangling off a ledge.
“I just thought I knew where we stood,” you say instead, eyes burning. “And maybe I was wrong.”
Bob doesn’t move.
He’s staring at you now, really staring, like he’s trying to read between every word you’re not saying.
“You thought you knew where we stood,” he repeats softly. “So… where did you think we stood?”
You shake your head, but he doesn’t let up.
“Because from where I’m standing,” he goes on, voice tight with something that might be desperation, “we flew a perfect hop three days ago, spent half the weekend practically glued at the hip. You drove my drunk ass home and looked after me when you didn’t have to—then today you’re… upset. Angry. You start a pointless fight with Phoenix and claim you were just being overcautious.” His eyes search yours, hard and fast. “I’m not stupid, Dove. You knew we’d be okay.”
You look away. “Drop it, Bob.”
“No,” he says, stepping closer. “I want to know. I need to know. Why did you do that?”
You open your mouth—then close it. Your pulse is thudding in your ears again. Loudly. Your hands curl into fists at your sides.
“I just—” You bite down, hard. “I panicked. I saw the numbers, and I panicked.”
“Why?”
“Because I—I’m tired, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
He shakes his head. “The truth. Why?”
You lock eyes with him again, breathless at the proximity of him. “I—I wasn’t—
“Don’t lie,” he whispers—soft, desperate.
“Because I couldn’t lose you,” you say before you can stop yourself, voice breaking at the edges.
The words hit the air like a shockwave, echoing in the small space left between your bodies.
Bob blinks, stunned.
But now it’s out, and you can’t stop.
“I couldn’t lose you,” you repeat, voice trembling. “I was in my jet, and I saw that you weren’t steady, and I didn’t think, I just—I reacted. And I know it was out of line—I know what I said was too far, but I just kept thinking that if something happened to you, I would never forgive myself. That if I let it go and you went down in flames, I—” Your breath catches hard in your throat, and you press your palms against your closed eyes. “Shit.”
You’re crying. Hot, angry tears that blur everything.
Your breath stutters.
“I’m in love with you, okay?” you choke out. “That’s why. That’s why I freaked out. That’s why I’m all messed up. Why I was angry—and jealous. Because I’m in love with you and I can’t lose you and—and if you’re in love with her then fine, I’ll deal with it, I will, but I can’t pretend like it doesn’t matter. Because it does. You do.”
Your voice finally crumbles at the edges, and you suck in a ragged breath, heart hammering, shoulders curled forward like they’re bracing for impact.
Bob doesn’t speak.
Not yet.
He just stares, stunned—and you don’t dare look up to see what’s written on his face.
For a long, aching moment, there’s nothing but silence.
Then—he snorts.
Actually snorts. A small, stunned breath of disbelief that turns into a short, shaky laugh.
Your hands fall from your face, eyes snapping up to his. “Are you—” You blink hard, throat raw. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No—God, no.” He shakes his head, still breathless, mouth curled into something halfway between a smile and a wince. “I’m not—I’m not laughing at you. I’m just…”
He exhales hard, like he’s been punched in the chest.
“Jesus, Dove. You think I’m in love with Natasha?”
You don’t answer. You can’t.
His hand comes up—almost instinctively—then drops again before he touches you.
“I wasn’t talking about her,” he says, more serious now. “On Saturday—I mean, yeah, I was drunk, and I probably said too much, but none of it was about Phoenix.”
You stare at him, heart still hammering.
“I was talking about you,” he says. “It’s always been you.”
You blink once—then twice. “Me?”
He nods. “You, dumbass.”
Your breath catches. He takes a step closer.
“I honestly thought you knew,” he says softly. “I thought I’d freaked you out. Screwed everything up. You were looking after me, and I was—God, I was so far gone I barely remember half of what I said. But I remember thinking that I’d ruined it.”
You’re staring now, wide-eyed, frozen in place—and he’s only inches away.
“And you being mad at me the next day. Avoiding me. I thought it was because I’d crossed a line.”
“No,” you whisper. “I—I was avoiding you because I didn’t want you to see how upset I was.”
He lets out another shaky breath. “God. We’re both dumbasses.”
Heat rises in your chest, crawling up your neck, into your cheeks. The air between you feels heavier now, charged with something neither of you has the will to break. His gaze doesn’t waver, and it’s no longer searching for answers—he’s already found them. There’s warmth there now, deep and unguarded, and it makes your pulse stutter hard enough to hurt.
Bob takes a step forward, close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath. His hand starts to lift, hesitates, then settles gently on your jaw like he’s testing whether you’ll pull away.
You don’t.
Your name slips from him in a low, almost disbelieving murmur.
And before you can even think, his mouth is on yours—no warning, no time to brace. The kiss crashes into you, fierce in its need but softened by the way his lips linger, like he’s been holding this back for far too long. You melt into him instinctively, hands curling into the front of his suit, feeling the solid weight of him anchoring you. He draws you closer still, one arm winding around your waist, the other cupping your face like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched.
It’s dizzying, the rush of it—heat, relief, something that tastes dangerously like hope. You gasp against him and he kisses you deeper, like he’s trying to make up for every day he didn’t do this.
When you finally part, it’s only by a breath, foreheads pressed together, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek in slow, almost reverent strokes.
“You,” he says softly. “Always you.”
Your lips curve into a smile before you even realise, a rush of warmth flooding your chest—and then you’re surging up to kiss him again. Harder this time. Needier. He makes a low sound in his throat as you push into him, and he stumbles back until his shoulders meet the lockers with a dull, rattling thud.
You don’t stop. You press closer, chasing the heat of him, your fingers sliding into his hair and tugging until he groans. His mouth parts under yours and you take advantage, kissing him deeper, hotter, until the air between you is nothing but shared breath and the faint taste of him.
He’s flustered now, breathless, his hands clutching at your hips like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. The kiss turns wet and frantic, your mouths dragging together in a mess of heat and want. When you nip at his lower lip, he exhales sharply against your cheek, the sound so rough it makes your knees buckle.
His hips press forward without thought, and you feel the hard, insistent heat of him through the fabric of your flight suit. The low, helpless sound that escapes him only makes you kiss him harder.
Bob breaks away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead pressed to yours. His pupils are blown wide, lips kiss-swollen, and he swallows like speaking takes effort. “We need to stop before I—”
“Before you what?” you murmur, brushing your lips over his again, your smile curling slow and wicked.
A faint groan catches in his throat. He’s still looking at you like you’re something half-dangerous, half-divine when you lace your fingers through his and start backing toward the showers.
“Come on, Lieutenant,” you say, heat threading through every word. “We’ll both feel better after this.”
You walk through the door to where the showers are and stop halfway down the row of stalls. Then you reach in, twist the tap, and listen to the pipes groan before water rushes out. It always takes a little too long to heat up, so you turn back to Bob, your hand still in his, and catch the way his eyes flick anxiously toward the door.
“We shouldn’t,” he says, “someone could—”
You shut him up with a kiss before he can finish, your mouth hot and insistent against his. His protest melts under the press of your lips, his breath catching as he stumbles back a step.
Your fingers find the zipper of his flight suit, dragging it down in one slow, deliberate motion. His shoulders go tight, like the good part of him still wants to behave, but you push the fabric back, shoving it down until it hangs loose around his waist.
“You’re thinking too much,” you murmur.
Your palms smooth slowly down the front of his thin cotton shirt, feeling the quick stutter of his breath beneath your hands. You linger there, just long enough for the air between you to grow heavier—then you sink slowly to your knees.
And his eyes go impossibly wide.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his flight suit, still bunched low on his hips, and you start easing it down. Inch by inch, dragging it slowly over his thighs until it pools around his ankles. The white of his briefs is a sharp contrast against the dark of his suit, the outline beneath leaving very little to your imagination.
When your palm slides over him, gentle at first, he inhales hard through his nose. His hands twitch at his sides like he’s not sure whether to stop you or pull you closer.
“Dove…” His voice is hoarse, strained.
You glance up to see his jaw tight, his pupils wide and dark, every inch of him pulled taut between doing the right thing and giving in completely.
You rub him again, slower this time, and his knees flex like he’s fighting to stay upright.
You lean in closer, warm breath ghosting over his hips as your lips trace the lines of muscle disappearing beneath his briefs. The subtle movement of your mouth, the gentle brush against fabric, is pure temptation—too much for him to resist.
Bob’s head dips forward, eyes fluttering closed for a fraction of a second before snapping open, wide and glassy. His hands twitch again, hesitating at first, then finally reaching down, clutching your hair gently as if anchoring himself.
“God,” he breathes out, voice rough and broken. “You’re going to kill me.”
You part your lips against the fabric covering his hard length, teeth grazing just a touch, making him shiver. The tension between needing to stay composed and losing himself in the moment warps his expression—one foot in restraint, the other sliding toward surrender.
His hips shift forward, pressing subtly into your mouth, and you take that as your invitation to deepen the motion, sliding your tongue slowly against him, tasting through the cloth.
He groans low, hands tightening in your hair, pulling you closer like he’s trying to claim what you’re offering—like he can’t wait a second longer.
You pull back just enough to meet his gaze—those dark eyes wide, pupils dilated, searching yours with a mix of desperation and longing. Then you curl your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and start dragging them down—slowly—savouring the shiver that ripples through him, the subtle hitch in his breath like a secret confession.
His body stiffens, muscles tightening, but his eyes don’t waver. They stay locked on yours, silent and electric. You see the war in his expression—part restraint, part surrender—like he’s weighing the consequences of being caught here. Like this. With you.
His hands grip your hair tighter, desperate and possessive, and it makes your pulse spike. The contrast between his tension and the softness in his eyes twists your chest with want. The room feels impossibly small, the only sound your shared breathing—heavy and uneven.
You tug his briefs lower, inch by inch, the fabric sliding down his thighs. You can feel the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, taut muscles flexing under your touch. His dark eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes, pupils heavy with need and confusion.
His breath hitches sharply when you free him completely—his cock springing free. Hard, hot, even bigger than you imagined. It bobs barely an inch from your face, making your mouth water and your core clench.
“God,” he breathes, voice ragged, “you’re driving me crazy.”
You lick your lips, eyes shamelessly locked on the impressive length in front of you. “Good.”
You lean in slowly, bracing a hand on each of his thighs, your breath warm against the sensitive skin of his cock. Your tongue flicks out, just barely grazing the tip, tasting the salty heat lingering there—and he lets out a sharp, startled breath.
The knot behind your hips tightens, your pulse thrumming in time with the wetness gathering between your legs.
One hand slides up slowly, your fingers curling around the base of him, feeling the way he pulses beneath your touch. His hips twitch forward instinctively, chasing the friction your mouth teases.
Your eyes lift to meet his, holding his gaze as you close your lips around the tip—and he gasps.
Your tongue traces tiny, teasing circles around the head, savouring every tiny twitch that ripples through his body. You pull back just enough to release him, slow and deliberate, as if memorising every desperate sound that slips from him.
His breathing is uneven now, stuttering sharply when you take him into your mouth again. Deeper this time, letting the weight of him slide against your tongue. You hum softly, tightening your grip, revelling in the way he chokes on his next breath.
The taste of him is intoxicating—the warmth, the slickness—and you can feel the pool of your own saliva at the corners of your mouth. His eyes never leave your face, glued to the slow, steady slide of his cock between your lips.
He looks almost completely unravelled—cheeks flushed, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any blue left. His glasses are still sitting crooked, fogged slightly from his heavy breathing and the steam curling through the air.
Your tongue slides along the underside of his cock, tracing the tender, swollen ridge where the head meets the shaft. Drool slips freely now—slick, warm—dripping down your chin, making every movement slippery and delicious.
Bob’s breath hitches, his hands tightening again in your hair, holding him steady even as he starts to lose control. You feel the tremble in his thighs, the subtle jerk of his hips—desperate for more friction, more sensation.
But you don’t rush. You pull back just enough, then take him deeper again. Soft moans escape his lips, barely held back. His pulse throbs visibly beneath your palm, his cock twitching under your touch, telling you exactly how close he’s getting.
You hollow your cheeks and suck gently, pulling at him like you’re savouring a rare, delicious taste. Your hand strokes in rhythm, slow and steady, and his whole body shudders—a sharp breath catching in his throat.
His eyes flutter closed, lashes resting against flushed cheeks, but then snap open again, glazed and wild with need. You pull back again, lips swollen, mouth slick with drool and precum.
“Sweetheart,” he rasps, voice ragged, desperate, “‘m not gonna last if you keep teasing me like this.”
You smile around him and increase the pressure of your tongue, moving your mouth faster now. His breath stutters, low groans slipping free as his hands tighten in your hair, holding you firm. His body trembles beneath your touch, muscles clenched.
Then suddenly—his grip on your hair sharpens, almost painfully, and before you can deepen the rhythm, he pulls back with a harsh breath.
“Seriously,” he mutters, “you’re going to kill me.”
You glance up, lips parted and cheeks flushed, but before you can answer, his hands slide down to your shoulders, gripping them firmly. With a sharp tug, he pulls you off your knees, making you stumble slightly as your legs lose balance.
His mouth claims yours immediately—hard, urgent, desperate—silencing every word you might have spoken. The sudden closeness sends heat rushing through you, your bodies pressed tight as his hands slide lower, tracing the curves of your waist.
When he pulls away, his breath is heavy, chest rising and falling fast. His dark eyes search yours, pupils blown wide with want.
“We need to be quick,” he says softly, voice thick. “Before we get caught.”
Without hesitation, you start pulling at the zipper of your flight suit, fingers trembling with anticipation. The fabric falls open, and you shrug out of it, pushing it down around your hips and kicking it off into a pile on the floor.
Bob moves quickly too, kicking off his flight suit and briefs, and yanking his shirt over his head.
You can’t take your eyes off him even as you continue undressing—pulling your shirt over your head, discarding your bra, stepping out of your embarrassingly damp panties.
“God,” Bob exhales, voice low. “You’re beautiful.”
His lips find your neck, hands wrapping around your ribs. The heat of his skin on yours makes your head spin, but you don’t have time to dwell on it.
“Shower,” you murmur, voice breathless.
His tongue laves at your collarbone, soothing the spot where his teeth had just been.
“Bob,” you breathe.
He glances up, his glasses almost completely fogged.
You laugh softly, carefully slipping them off for him, folding them, and placing them on the pile of clothes. Then you turn toward the shower stall and step inside, never losing the heat of his body close behind yours.
You step beneath the spray of hot water and turn to face Bob, your bodies pressing close, chest to chest, breath mingling with the mist. His lips ghost over your temple, then trail down the curve of your neck, each kiss feather-light but charged.
Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging him just enough to draw his mouth back to yours. The kiss is softer now—a pause after the urgency—but no less full of want.
Bob’s hands slide higher, tracing your ribs, skimming the sensitive skin beneath your breasts. You arch toward him, pulse thudding as his touch sets every nerve alight.
If you had a moment to think, you’d probably nearly faint at the fact that you’re naked with Bob in the shower right now. But there’s no time. You’re on base, and if you get caught—the consequences would be too severe to imagine.
“I need you,” you whisper, barely audible over the rush of water.
A low groan rumbles deep in his chest before his lips find yours again—more urgent this time. Your hands grip his shoulders as his slide down your sides, fingertips tracing wet skin until they settle at your hips.
He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, his expression suddenly serious.
“Are you sure?”
You press your body tighter to his, hips moving deliberately to grind his hard length against your slick skin—and he chokes on a moan.
“Yes,” you murmur. “I’m sure.”
That’s all it takes for one of his hands to slip between your legs, fingers sliding easily through your wet heat.
“Sweetheart,” he sighs, eyes fluttering shut, voice thick. “You’re so wet.”
Your cheeks flush as a tremor rips through your body, aching low and fierce. His fingers move slow, teasing, coaxing you open—each touch setting fire to your nerves.
“F—Fuck,” you breathe out, breath hitching. “I’m not going to last long.”
He chuckles low and presses a finger to your entrance.
You gasp sharply, gripping his shoulders tighter, nails digging in. He pumps once—then twice—and then slides another finger in, curling just right, making your knees wobble.
“‘M sorry, baby,” he murmurs, voice husky. “Gotta get you ready.”
You nod, resting your forehead against his shoulder and trailing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along his chest as his fingers stretch you. When he adds the third, the delicious burn makes your muscles tremble and a broken moan spill free.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he soothes. “We have to be quiet. Someone could hear.”
The way he’s holding you steady while coaxing you open—so tender yet so commanding—makes your chest ache with something fierce. You’ve never seen this side of Bob before—obviously—but you always knew every part of him was perfect. Especially this part, raw and vulnerable, naked and intimate… and about to fuck you right here in the showers at North Island Naval Base.
“Turn around for me,” he says softly.
You whimper at the sudden loss of his fingers, and he chuckles low against your skin, pressing a kiss to your temple. His hands find your shoulders—turning you to face the wall—before sliding down and gently gripping your wrists, lifting them until your palms rest flat against the cool tile.
His lips drop to your shoulder and trail up your neck, tongue flicking softly beneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You ready?” he whispers, breath hot against your skin.
“‘M ready,” you murmur, voice trembling.
His hands glide down to your hips, fingers digging in as he pulls you flush against him. Your back arches instinctively, your ass pressing against the hard length of him, and he lets out a choked sound—half groan, half sigh.
You glance over your shoulder, breath heavy, catching sight of his hand dipping down to trace through your slick again. “You’re so ready for me, sweetheart.”
A low whimper leaves your lips and you push back, desperate for more.
The hand still on your hip tightens while the other guides his cock to your entrance, the head nudging between your folds. His eyes flicker between your face and where he’s about to sink in, torn between watching you and watching the way you take him.
Then, with breath held tight between you, he pushes forward.
You gasp at the delicious stretch—the first inch testing you.
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick. “You can take me.”
His grip on your hip tightens—almost painfully so—as if bruising your skin will ground him enough to hold back some of the need threatening to overwhelm him. The other hand slides up your ribs, palms your breast, fingers pinching your nipple until you gasp sharply—and that’s when he pushes in another inch.
“So good for me,” he mutters, voice rough and strained.
You let out a breathy, garbled moan, hips wriggling slightly. The stretch is immense, filling you completely—intense but not painful, just enough to make you ache for more.
Slowly, reverently, he sinks deeper. Your breaths come ragged, moans choked and urgent. You both know the danger—any noise could give you away, the clock ticking mercilessly down as the threat of being discovered looms.
Bob’s hand stays on your breast, fingers teasing your nipple just enough to distract you from the growing pressure of him buried inside. And finally, he bottoms out, hips flush against your ass.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathes. “You’ve got all of me.”
He pauses for a moment—still—but you feel the tightrope of his control beginning to fray.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, voice trembling. “You—you can move.”
His hands find your hips again, this time gentle, grounding.
“I’ll go slow—”
“No,” you interrupt, glancing over your shoulder again, breath hitching. “I want you to fuck me, Bob. We don’t have much time, so just—please.”
His hips jerk back and then thrust forward, the sudden movement nearly buckling your knees if he wasn’t holding you so steady.
“Fuck,” you choke out, breathless.
“You want me to fuck you?” His voice drops low, dangerous.
You throw your head back, pressing your fingertips harder against the tile. “Yes. Please.”
“Such pretty manners,” he murmurs, voice laced with heat. “Such a good girl.”
He thrusts forward again—harder this time. And again. And again. There’s no stopping now.
His movements are relentless and rough, but his touch holds a tenderness that makes you feel like something sacred—like you’re his alone to claim. He fucks into you with fierce need, and the noises climbing up your throat are raw and inhuman, impossible to fully stifle.
Every thrust hits the perfect spot, sending your vision hazy and your skin aflame. You can hear his ragged breaths, the obscene, wet slap of skin against skin—but his rhythm never falters, steady and unyielding.
“Fuck,” he groans, voice rough and broken. “You’re so perfect.”
He leans forward, hands sliding up your sides. One finds your breast again, fingers pinching your nipple hard enough to make you cry out, while the other dips between your legs.
His fingers draw teasing, deliberate circles around your clit—coaxing, taunting—careful to avoid the bundle of nerves just enough to make you ache. He rolls your nipple with practiced ease, like he’s always known exactly how to make you come undone. Like it’s etched into his very bones. You and him. Perfect pleasure. Perfect harmony.
“Bob,” you whine—really whine this time, desperate and breathless. “Please.”
He grunts low into your ear, chest pressing against your back, claiming you utterly.
“Please what?”
“T—Touch me,” you choke out, the words riding the rhythm of his thrusts.
His hand slips from your breast to grip your hip, steadying you both—and for the first time, his hips stutter. You know he’s close; neither of you are lasting much longer.
“I am touching you, sweetheart,” he breathes against your skin, voice thick.
You groan, frustrated, bratty, and desperate.
He chuckles softly. “You want me to touch your clit, baby?”
Before you can answer, his fingers find it—making you choke on a sharp breath. The pressure is perfect. The fullness of him inside you. The slick heat of his skin against yours. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—so badly that you’re trembling, on the edge, about to come apart embarrassingly fast.
His thrusts grow harder, sharper, until each one drags a broken sound from your throat. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but take it, his cock stretching you just right while his fingers work you into a fever.
“Bob—” His name leaves your lips in a gasp, your knees threatening to give out as white heat coils low in your belly.
“I’ve got you,” he rasps, voice fraying at the edges. His hips piston into you, chasing the end, the wet sounds between you filthy and relentless. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”
It hits hard. Your orgasm rips through you with a sharp cry you barely manage to swallow, clenching tight around him, body shaking under the force of it. His fingers stay firm on your clit, drawing it out, making you gasp and whimper through every pulsing wave.
“Jesus, sweetheart—” His voice breaks as his rhythm falters. One, two more deep drives and he’s gone, spilling into you with a guttural groan, hips pressed tight against yours. His forehead drops to your shoulder, breath ragged, heartbeat thundering against your back.
Neither of you move for a moment. The air is thick with steam, heat, and the heavy sound of breathing. His hands stay on you—steadying, grounding—as if letting go might mean waking from a dream.
It’s only when your heartbeat starts to slow that the world begins to filter back in—the tile under your palms, the rush of water, the faint sounds of life outside. And you remember that you’re still on base, in the showers, with the door locked and his cum inside you.
Bob shifts behind you, gently pulling out and turning you in his arms. You go willingly, your legs a little unsteady, your gaze catching his. His hair is wet and plastered to his forehead, his eyes dark in a way you’ve never seen before—raw, open, and a little unsure.
Without a word, he pulls you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and solid, the heat of him sinking into you, indistinguishable from the shower’s embrace. You press your face to his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of sweat beneath the steam.
For a moment, there’s nothing but the beat of his heart against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest. The reality is there, a quiet hum beneath the comfort—what you just did, what it means, how much has changed—but neither of you say it. Not yet.
You swallow hard, chest still heaving. “We should—”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice low in your ear. “Before someone finds us.”
When you pull back, he’s smiling softly—boyish, almost shy—and it makes your chest ache. How can this man do what he just did to you and then have the audacity to look so damn sweet about it?
You can’t stop yourself from grinning as you push up onto your toes and press a quick kiss to his mouth, both of you smiling into it like idiots now. You pull away before it gets dangerous again and rinse off in a rush. The water shuts off with a squeak, and you crack the stall door just enough to snag the single towel hanging on the hook outside.
There’s only one—since you weren’t exactly expecting company—but you make do, passing it between you in quick swipes, bumping elbows, stealing kisses, stifling laughter.
Bob redresses and tugs his flight suit up just enough to hang loose around his hips, hair still wet, while you wrap yourself in the towel. Then you head back to the locker room together, about to round the corner toward your row of lockers when—
“You know the lock didn’t latch properly, right?”
Natasha is perched on the bench in the middle of the room, brows arched, lips pursed.
“Holy shit,” you gasp, stumbling back into Bob.
“Oh my God,” he mutters, dropping his head into your shoulder as if he can hide there.
“H—How long have you—”
“Only a few minutes,” she says, and her smirk is lethal. “Which is about two minutes more than anyone should have to endure. You’re lucky I’m a professional.” She tilts her head. “I came in earlier to apologise to Dove and heard… noises. I recognised your voice—” she gives Bob a pointed look that turns his whole face crimson— “and immediately fled for my own survival. But then I ran into Mav, who was wandering this way, so I had to stall him with a full TED Talk on the history of carburettors versus fuel-injection. You’re welcome.”
Your eyes go wide. “He didn’t… hear anything, did he?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I saved you from public humiliation and probable court-martial. And now…” She crosses her arms, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. “I get to sit here and watch you two try to pretend you’re not freshly defiled in a government facility. This is my new favourite reality show.”
You groan. “Nat—”
“Relax,” she says, eyes sparkling. “Your secret’s safe with me. But you owe me a therapy session.”
Your lips twitch. “Happy hour at The Hard Deck?”
“That’s my girl.” She winks, already backing toward the door. “Now get dressed. I’m parched, and the others are dying to hear all the details that I’m definitely not keeping to myself.”
Then she’s gone—the door clicking shut before you can even think of a comeback.
You turn to Bob. “We’re never living this down, are we?”
His cheeks are still flushed, but he shakes his head. “Never.”
“And she’s going to tell everyone before we even get there?”
He nods, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Definitely.”
You narrow your eyes. “Then why are you smiling?”
He shrugs, sliding his arms around your waist and tugging you close. “Because I just had sex with the woman I’m in love with—for the first time.”
Heat rushes through you so fast it’s almost dizzying. “Yeah?”
He rests his forehead against yours with a dramatic sigh, his shoulders sagging. “And now I get to be interrogated about it by my entire squad.”
You giggle softly. “Or… we could skip the interrogation and go back to my place.”
His groan melts into your mouth as he kisses you.
“I’d love to,” he murmurs, “but you promised Phoenix cheap cocktails and free therapy. And frankly, I fear her more than the navy.”
You sigh. “Yeah, you’re right.”
He kisses you again, deeper this time, and your arms loop around his neck.
“How about,” you murmur against his mouth, “one drink, just enough explanation to make Mickey stop asking questions… then we go home and have Olympic-level sex until we pass out?”
His grin is warm against your lips. “Deal. And then I’m never letting you go.”
